A/N: Hi! I was wondering if you could review. You know, that thing at the bottom of the screen where you say what you think of the story? Anyway, my mom ordered me a copy of Anna and the King of Siam, so I'm not going to post again until I read it. I don't own Dear America, The Royal Diaries, or the King and I. Enjoy!
Minakhom 9, wan phut, 1862
I sit down on one of the benches in the courtyard to write. The sun is shining, and it is slightly windy––––
. . . (~) . . .
There is darkness everywhere. No stars, no moon, no nothing. What is going on?
"Pensri, wake up!"
I blinked open my eyes to see Princess Ying over me.
"Ying!"
"You were twitching in your sleep."
"No, it is fine. I am just happy you are here."
"Good," Ying says, then she spotted you. Her face clouded.
"Pensri...where did you get that?" Ying asks.
"I got it from that missionary, the one that taught Lady Thang English."
"Oh, yes. I remember them. Talking about their God," Ying said in a strange, disapproving, voice.
"Ying, it's the same as us telling them about Buddha –"
"No, it's not! We tell them because we want them to know. They tell us because they want us to be part of their religion."
I thought about that. Is Ying right?
"Do you know about that new guard, Jimmy Smith?" Ying asked, interrupting my thoughts.
"Yes. I was introduced to him, the first day he came, I think."
"I don't trust him."
"You don't?" I ask, relived that someone shares my thoughts on the new guard.
"No, I don't. Is that bad?"
I shrugged. "Well, I don't trust him either."
"Why?"
"He's odd. Why would our father even allow a British person to be a guard?"
We sat in silence, unknowing, continuous, silence for what seems like forever.