CHAPTER 11
Sunday, the 30th of November, 2239
Princess Carolynn Schreave
I flip through the pages of a magazine boredly. My subscription to BlankSpot (yes, it's one word. Don't ask me which illiterate idiot made that typo) was mostly to read about the celebrities of Illéa, and occasionally myself. I didn't want to see photos of the pathetic boys I had dismissed making their way back home. I guess it must suck for them to be the first batch eliminated from the selection. You don't get much lower than that.
If it was me, I would rather not be chosen in the first place then be the first to lose. At least if you aren't chosen you're with the other 99.99 percent of Illéa. Instead, said 99.99 percent would be whispering about why you were eliminated so early.
I know there's that old saying all publicity is good publicity, but come on. There's a line between something being humiliatingly funny and just downright embarrassing. I would say that being the first person eliminated crossed into downright embarrassing territory.
Oh well. Nothing much I can do about that. Besides, all these guys will lose eventually. They'll go back to their homes and I'll never have to think about them again. I wonder if I could get away with not inviting my ex-selected to my wedding?
Eh. Probably not. Above all else, I need to save face. Once I'm the Queen I can do whatever the hell I want, but not yet. Not until the country sees me as their Queen.
So I'll play the waiting game. I'll invite all of them to my wedding. I guess I won't mind that much. Maybe Nishav will take the opportunity to smile for once. Stranger things have happened. For example, last week an entire gas station worth of oil was found in some woman's backyard. No one knows how it got there. My bets are on some money launderers had been using the yard to dump the oil, and when she went to sell the house, the authorities found it. I have to say, when that report was placed on my desk to review, I had found it a bit too funny. I had even asked Mom if it was a real report or if she had just thrown it in as a joke to entertain me.
I haven't decided whether or not the woman was in kahoots with them yet. I'll figure it out when the province attorney gives us more details.
Still, it's a Sunday, and I'm not going to spend my day thinking about work like I did last weekend. I have better things in mind. With my minor elimination on Friday, the selection was officially started. Not that it wasn't before, but the public still saw it as the "beginning", now we're in the thick of it. Which means I better finish up round 1 of dates and move onto round 2. The sooner the better.
My date today was simple. A huge game of dodgeball.
It's cheating the system, and I know that's wrong. That I should be doing it by the books. I hate cheating, I try not to do it, but I think I'll allow myself an exception just this once.
Figuring out a way to group together all 8 of the guys I hadn't gone on a date with yet was hell. I was going to just go do a movie night and call it a day...well, night. Henri had suggested a game of dodgeball as a joke a few days ago, probably assuming that even if I took the idea and ran with it, royal security would veto it in the end..
Turns out, they didn't.
Of course there were a few rules. As always. We could all do a dodgeball game, I just couldn't play. Ridiculous. What harm is a brightly colored foam ball going to do? Besides, even if I fell, we were going to be playing on trampolines. I would be absolutely fine.
But no.
I have to watch from the sidelines.
Apparently the Crown Princess of Illéa is too important to be let into a dodgeball court.
I mean, I get the reasoning behind that. The heir to the throne is a precious resource, but it doesn't mean that I like hearing it. Whatever. If one day I'm going to rule the country, then I can't be risking life and limb by going into a dodgeball court. The guards are being overdramatic, sure, but they have a job to do. Just like I do. If we both want to complete those jobs, then I guess it's best for everyone that I don't go into the dodgeball court.
Besides, I have no need to go jump on trampolines with a bunch of sweaty guys, trying my best to avoid taking a dodgeball to the head. I prefer to spend my time on less common activities, activities that are worthy of my position, not that of the other citizens of my country.
"Your Highness," Jenna says as she enters my room. She had already been in here earlier to drop off my breakfast and latest magazine. "Would you like me to run the shower for you?"
"Please." I say, placing the magazine down on my chaise lounger. Once I hear the water running I head into the bathroom, the warm water making a soothing pattern on my back.
Once I'm done with my shower, Jenna leads me over to the vanity. The breathy scream of the hair dryer fills the room for a few minutes. Once Jenna is sufficiently satisfied with the dryness of my hair, she ties it into a ponytail on the top of my head. I told her I wanted my look to be ath-leisure when she visited me earlier. If I can't actually participate in the dodgeball competition. I might as well look the part. It's more of a consolation prize, but it's better than nothing.
When I finally go into my closet, I bypass all the usual frilly dresses and patterned skirts that I would normally choose to wear. They're not quite right for today. Instead, I go with a pair of purple leggings, a white tank top, and a purple zip up sweatshirt over it. In a moment of pure spontaneity,I grab a matching purple headband.
I look pretty, I always do. Today though, I know the selected will look at me differently. I don't look like a princess, not how they usually see me. I guess, more or less, I look like a normal girl. A girl they might meet at a cafe in their hometown. The girl from their college class that they might ask on a date to the movie theater.
Hm. Not what I usually wear, but maybe it will have some upsides.
So, with that thought in mind, I head down to the foyer to meet the 7 lucky guys plus Henri who were the few that I haven't gotten around to yet. It wasn't their faults, at a certain point I had just started going in alphabetical order. It didn't say much about their personalities, neither bad nor good. I had just missed their name and now I was doubling back and dating all of them.
"Your Highness." Nyson greeted bowing slightly. He was dressed in a dark sweatshirt and loose track pants.
"Hey." I greet the group as a whole. "Who are we waiting for?"
Nyson looks to Nathaniel who looks to Owen, "Uh, I think Henri and Cole." Owen offers up reluctantly.
Oh. That makes sense. Henri isn't exactly the arrive five minutes before the deadline type. "Okay. I guess we'll wait for them."
"That's nice of you." Nyson says, very un-sarcastically. Huh.
I smile at him, "It is, isn't it?"
"Dodgeball should be fun." Nyson says, absentmindedly toying with his shirt. He sounds a bit stiff, almost like he's forcing his words to be clear and concise.
"Yeah." I pause, looking at him oddly, "Hey, Nyson. You know you don't need to talk like that around me. Believe me, it doesn't matter in the slightest." I don't add the part because I'm not actually considering any of the selected anyway.
Nyson swallows, "I just...I thought...Miss Van Der Witts has been giving me lessons and I just assumed that you wanted this."
"In front of the cameras yeah- wait, did you say Miss Van Der Witts has been giving you lessons?" I ask, looking up at him.
"Mmhmm. She had us all do speaking tests, and she's been giving some of us private lessons on how to talk...more like royalty, I guess." Nyson explains. Oh, I guess that's kind of her. Her whole hiring was merely for show but it wouldn't hurt anyone to be able to speak properly. Might be able to help with job interviews or whatever in the future.
"That's nice of her. She didn't need to do that." I comment, humming lightly.
Nyson looks down at the word nice, "She's a good teacher." he says, very unconvincingly. Clearly Miss Van Der Witts' lessons hadn't yet included how to lie convincingly. Shame. She should really get on that, sooner rather than later.
"Why do you think my parents hired her?" I ask, teasing him lightly, "Actually, don't answer that. I don't even know why my parents hired her. It was a very last minute thing."
"Really?" Nyson asks, looking happy that I had entrusted information to him. "Why?"
I huff a breath. Normally I wouldn't spill secrets to someone like him, but I guess there's no damage he can do. Besides I need someone to vent to. "The whole selection was pretty spur of the moment. There was almost no planning that went into it, not on my end at least. I didn't find out till the day before I actually announced it."
"You're parents sprung it on you?" Nyson laughs slightly at my confession.
"More or less. They meant well, but still. Ugh." I whine, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I must have sunk very low to be whining to Nyson Avery from Columbia. Why is this selection constantly ending in me lowering my standards?
"I'm sorry." Nyson apologies, looking genuinely upset on my behalf.
"Thanks." I mutter drily. "But of course, I'm delighted for this all to happen. It's practically a fairytale." My voice is syrupy sweet, and the expression on my face is enough to give someone a cavity. Nyson seems to fall for it, smiling on my behalf. Good. This needs to look like something that I want, and luckily, the country seems pretty inclined to believe that all a young princess wants is her knight in shining armor to come marry her.
"That's good. I'm happy for you. You deserve something like this." Nyson states.
"What? A public spectacle of my love life?" I ask bitterly.
"No..Well, I don't know..I guess...Maybe…" Nyson stammers, starting a few sentences and never really finding ones.
Ugh. I know I'm being mean. "Thank you though." Nyson is a nice boy. As much as I despise this whole process, he doesn't deserve to be on the receiving end of my whining and complaining. God, this whole selection really is making me soft. What happened to the Carrie who didn't care about random people's feelings? I want her back.
Nyson smiles, "No problem."
"Sorry I'm late." Henri says finally making his way down the main staircase. The other boy, whatever his name was, isn't far behind.
"No biggie." I tell the pair, waving them over. "Okay, so if you aren't here yet, please raise your hand." After a moment of no one rasing their hands -duh- I continue with my speech, "Perfect. I'm ready to go, and if you aren't ready to leave yet for any reason that doesn't include a medical emergency, then that sounds like a you problem and please don't bother me with it."
My statement gets some chuckles, mostly from boys who think I'm joking. Ha. Silly selected. They'll learn soon enough though.
"Okay then, let's go."
The limousine we're taking today is much larger than the ones I usually use. Most often it's function is to transport royal families from the airport to the palace for various events. Coronations, weddings, occasional baby showers. Stuff like that, with huge amounts of foriegn visitors.
Still, despite the size of the limo, fitting 9 people in, half of them fairly large boys, is a tight squeeze. I end up squished in between the wall and Nathaniel. It's uncomfortable to say the least, and to be quite honest, I've never been in a situation like this before. I'm a princess for heaven's sake, I shouldn't be in such a cramped space. Maybe I should have a little chat with whoever it was that decided to only send one car. What a moron.
"Ever played dodgeball before?" Nathaniel asks calmly.
I look at him, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my face. "No. And most likely I never will."
Nathaniel pauses, looking confused. "What do you mean? You're not playing? He asks, seeming upset on my behalf. I don't have the energy to explain to him that it's not really that big a deal.
"Nope. My guards thought that it could be dangerous." I explain briefly. I would wave my hand in a so-so motion but I'm not quite sure that I can actually move my arm with how tightly it's pinned in place. This might be more dangerous than the actual dodgeball court.
"Just like your roller skating date." Nathaniel muses quietly. Oh right. I forgot that I had told him about that. "You have some very dedicated guards."
"Some of the best in the nation's military. All the palace guards are." I say, "You will not believe how few guards actually are allowed to work in the palace."
"Really?" Nathaniel asks, "How many?"
I look at the ceiling of the car, thinking for a moment. "Roughly about the top 2 percent of the military force. Not including the navy of course. Sailing a boat is an entirely different skill set."
"The navy does more than sail boats." Nathaniel tells me, "At least I think they do."
"Yeah. They do. But still, you know what I mean. Hey, you're a sailor right?" I ask, knowing the answer to my question.
"I'm an instructor, but pretty much." Nathaniel says, seeming happy I didn't call him a pirate yet again. He should consider himself lucky this time.
"Ever thought of joining the navy?" I ask.
"You sound just like those army recruiters that used to come to my school." Nathaniel smiles slightly, "And no, I haven't. Shooting guns and killing people really isn't my idea of a fun time."
I consider his words. I guess I approve of the script that the army recruiters say, it only makes sense that I sound like them. "Hm. The military does more than shoot guns and kill people, but I get that. Not really my thing either."
"You serve the country in a different way." Nathaniel agrees. Why thank you.
"Some might say in an even more important way." I sing-song. As if there was any doubt about my position in this country.
"Maybe. Probably." Nathaniel concedes.
I sigh, changing the topic quickly. This is getting a wee bit heavy and I don't want for this to be awkward when I'm practically on top of him. "How about you? Have you ever played dodgeball?" I ask, twisting my ponytail around my wrist as I speak.
"A few times." Nathaniel says, he pauses for a second, obviously deciding whether or not to tell me something. He must decide to go for it, as he opens his mouth to speak again. "My son tries it occasionally with his daycare."
I look at him blankly, "Your son?" I glance around the limo, suddenly acutely aware that most of the other boys had been paying attention to our conversation. And at least half were looking at Nathaniel with a newfound sort of fascination.
This couldn't be happening. There were background checks, security reports, things to ensure that problems like this didn't slip through the cracks. I mean, we weren't technically excluding guys who entered with children, but...their applications went into a special bin. Some would be put in the actual contest, but most were removed.
That's how it's been for every selection in history. There were teams of people whose jobs were to comb through the application. Of course, their actual title is "Application manager" and their actual job description was ensure that the information printed on the applications is accurate and acceptable.
But still, they knew what the actual job was.
How could it be that Nathaniel was one of the few applications deemed acceptable to be back in the normal pool? I mean, he's not bad.
But it's not like he discovered a new element, built a robot to destroy the world and won the national chess tournament three times in a row.
Nathaniel studies my face carefully, "Yeah. He's not mine biologically, I take care of him for a friend," he explains.
Must be some friend. "That's nice of you." I say, keeping my voice ecen. "What's his name?" I ask, half to be polite, half out of genuine curiosity.
"It's Tyler. Tyler Beckmann." Nathaniel tells me, looking happy that he got it off his chest. So if the last name is Beckmann, Nathaniel must not have actually adopted him. Probably foster care. That would explain how he got sorted back into the pile.
Still, I have to wonder.
What is his endgame? Certainly if he wanted to win -and let's be honest here, who doesn't? I'm a fairly good prize, if I do say so myself- he would have tried to keep that on the down low for as long as possible. Try to make me fall helplessly in love with him before coming clean. Gag.
Unless...is he an actual honest person?
Wow. You don't meet a lot of them in my world, in the world of politics. I don't quite know what to make of that. If I was actually considering any of these men for my hand in marriage I would have eliminated him on the spot, but it doesn't really matter. The kid, Tyler, poses no actual threat to the line of succession if Nathaniel doesn't marry into the family. The boy can just be something for the crowds to ooh and ahh over for a little while and to eventually forget about it.
Wait. Am I exploiting a literal child? That's a little icky. I know I've used my cousins for their...purposes before, but to be fair, that's what they're meant for. That's what their whole purpose on earth is. They're the spares to the throne, what else do they expect?
"That's nice." I say quietly, giving him my best smile. "How old is he?"
"He's 3 years old." Nathaniel says.
A baby. An actual baby. "Well, that's really great that you take care of him." I deliver the lines with perfection, "Really great."
Nathaniel looks like he wants to say something, but the limo door opens and our conversation is cut short. Thank God. I don't like Nathaniel enough for me to want to be in a conversation about his possibly adopted child. The jury's still out on whether they're actually related or not.
The trampoline park is trashy. That's the only word that can be used to describe it. The walls are painted a garish shade of blue, neon pictures affixed to them. The carpet is black, run through with yellow stripes. It wasn't thoughtfully designed like most places I attend are, instead it looks like the owners found as many brightly colored things they could and shoved them all into the cavernous room. The property taxes on this building must be through the roof.
Officer Ortega distributes special socks to everyone, except me of course. The socks are a neon shade of green with purple rubber dots on the bottom. They're supposed to stop people from slipping on the trampolines.
I watch, amused as each boy gets assigned a cubby. "Please store your shoes and socks inside." Officer Ortega informs them.
Nyson raises his hand cautiously, "Should we lock the cubby or nah?" I giggle slightly, earning myself a few looks from the selected.
"If you wish." Officer Ortega answers. "Just don't forget the combination."
Nyson considers this for a moment. "Oh. I'm not going to lock it then."
"What?" You don't have the best memory?" I ask teasingly, going to stand next to him. Nyson had chosen one of the top cubbies, probably due to his insane height. Of course he had. I can't see in, my head barely reaching the bottom of the cubby.
Nyson shrugs, "Probably better not to risk it. You never know."
Okay then. Apparently Nyson is a tad bit forgetful. Good to know in the unlikely case it will ever come in handy. "Sure." I respond. "Apparently you're not a risk taker." I say the last part more to myself, though of course Nyson hears as I intended him to.
Look, I don't get off on being mean to these guys, but it's somewhat entertaining.
"No. I'm not." Nyson admits, not looking too upset. Good for him. He might not be the brightest tool in the shed but at least he can take a joke. It's a good combination as I get the feeling there have been many jokes made at his expense in the past.
"It suits you." I say, walking off before he can ask what I meant. I'm not even sure what I mean. Somehow, this piece of information that I was just given fit into my mental image of Nyson. I must have spent a lot of time thinking about him subconsciously. Icky. I need to work on that. I have more important things to do than waste my time thinking about a bunch of guys who will become more or less irrelevant in a couple of months.
I guess if Henri made any friends among the selected I would be forced to keep in contact with them, but that's really it. I would never have to speak to, look at, or even think of these men ever again. I can't wait for that day. This selection is really taking a toll out of me.
Speed dating and small talk, all things I utterly despise. The dressing up isn't really a problem, I always look perfect. That's not a change for the selection. Still though, I just want these people out of my house and out of my life.
Out of sight, out of mind.
After the mess that was having each boy grab a cubby, some employees along with my guards herd the boys towards the actual trampoline part of the building. The dodgeball court is made out of two trampolines with foam on the walls, a red and white foam stripe running down the middle, effectively splitting the 2 sides.
"How are we picking teams?" A boy whose name I'm fairly sure is Owen asks.
Officer Ortega smiles, "Well, we're going to need some team captains for that, aren't we?" She asks rhetorically.
The boys nod, all choursing "Yes."
"Your Highness, would you like to do the honors?" Officer Ortega asks, gesturing to me. I'm standing on the other side of the net that separates the court from the rest of the building. The selected could still hear me though, so I guess it was acceptable.
"Uh, Henri and Nathaniel." I respond with the first names that come to my mind. Nathaniel looks happy, probably thinking that this means I don't care about his child. Which, to be fair, I don't. But only because I don't care about him. A connection that I don't think he's quite realized yet.
Officer Ortega nods, gesturing for the boys to step forward. "Which of your last names is first in alphabetical order?"
"Probably Henri's." Nathaniel answers honestly "Mine starts with a W."
Henri nods, "Mine starts with a P, so yeah. It does come first."
"Alright, Henri you get first pick."
I don't pay much attention as the teams are chosen, 4 on each side. It doesn't matter anyway. Who cares about the teams in a stupid dodgeball game?"
The selected play for a while. I zone out after the first 10 minutes. I know it's my date, but I honestly think I'd rather watch the paint on my nails dry then have to pay attention to this stupid game. Whoever invented this is probably a sadistic moron. Imagine creating a game where the objective is to literally hurl balls at your friends and hope that it hits them.
Despite my complete lack of attention, the guys look like they're enjoying themselves. I guess it's not everyday that you get to play dodgeball in a ridiculously bright arena with a high ranking member of the royal guard watching. Good for them.
See, I'm not mean. Look at all these opportunities for fun I'm providing these poor chaps with.
They should all send me thank-you letters when this is done.
After about an hour of this torture, the boys are instructed to exit the court. Finally. I had been getting extremely impatient, waiting for it all to be over.
Still, I have to ask, "Wait, who won?"
Officer Ortega turns to me, taking a break from corralling my poor selected. "Well, I believe that Nathaniel's team won. They won 3 out of the 5 matches that we played," she answers politely.
I nod. "Cool." Okay, prizes. What can I do in the way of a prize? Another date? Not, that's too much work on my end. These boys, to be quite honest, were the ones I hadn't bothered to go on dates with simply because I didn't find them all that interesting. With a few exceptions of course. I had put off Nyson's date because I figured that I should at least attempt to work out the electric scooter date. What type of princess am I if I'm not honest to my word? Nathaniel, I had the chance to get to know outside of dates, and I didn't want to see him every single day.
We need some boundaries in the selection. There is only so much time I can spend with these men before I inevitably grow bored of them. And I don't want to send Nathaniel home yet. He's harmless, but more than that, I don't know, I guess I like talking to him.
Ack. No. I don't like talking to him.
I guess I could organize some type of special event for them, an event that I wouldn't have to attend. Yeah, that works for me.
So, I turn to the lucky few who had managed to best the other team in dodgeball, "Good job everyone! So for our winners, how would you feel about a pizza dinner tonight?" I ask rhetorically. They would be fools to say that they don't want one.
"Pizza?" Nathaniel asks, "Do the chefs here even know how to do that?"
I consider his words. They probably do, but cooking such mundane food is beneath them. "I don't think it matters if they can. They just refuse to. So, I'll have my maid order some pizza from a local parlor. She'll send you where it's going to be." I state, giving them my well-practiced smile.
"Huh. Cool." Nathaniel agrees, smiling easily.
Nyson nods, "Yeah. I love pizza."
"Then I guess that you're all in luck." I wave my hand towards the cubbies, "Though we do need to get going, so please, get your stuff and let's move on out." The boys all oblige, getting their things from the cubbies and putting their normal socks and shoes back on. I wait impatiently by the door.
A blond boy with blue eyes finishes first, coming over to stand by me. I'm fairly sure his name is George. George Hudson, something along those lines. "Princess." he says in acknowledgment, "I haven't gotten to talk to you yet today."
Oh, not another jealous guy. Couldn't these people tell I'm not interested?
"No, you haven't." I respond evenly. I know what he wants from me and I refuse to give it to him. I know that I've said I want people groveling for my attention but that's in a very specific time and place. And neither the time nor place is quite right as of this moment.
"Well, I would like to remedy that." The boy continues, his blue eyes bright. I don't have time to wonder about what he means before he explains himself, "Can I sit next to you on the ride home?"
I bite my lower lip. I suppose I have to sit next to somebody on the way home, and though right now I'm not feeling too sentimental towards this boy, he did have the guts to ask. And I like that. I like when people have a certain spunk to them, when they go for what they want instead of sitting around hoping it comes to them. That's what I have to do. I have to go out and get what I want or people would overlook me. Fortune favors the bold. So fine, I'd let George sit next to me on the way home, try to flirt with me and make me fall in love with him.
What's the harm in that?
It'll be fine. It's a 20 minute ride home, he can prattle in my ear all he wants. Maybe I'll even listen to him. Who knows?
"Are you sure you want that, George?" I ask, enunciating his name. Might as well make him beg for it while I'm here.
George nods, "I do. So, I suppose the verdict is up to you, Princess. What will it be?"
I make a show of sighing, pretending to deeply consider his question. "Why not? That nerve will serve you well, trust me on that." I tell him, looking at the relieved expression that settles on his face. He looks happy, smug sure, but happy all the same.
"I'll look forward to it." George says, making to loop his arm in mine. I don't move, keeping them stiffly at my side. I don't want him thinking he can be too forward with me. I might have appreciated him taking the first approach, but I wouldn't technically say that I like him.
We wait together for the rest of the guys to get their shoes on and assemble near the front of the building. When my guards allow it, we're shuttled out to the limousine, the guards making sure that we spend as little time out in the open -in a vulnerable position- as humanly possible.
I perch on the seat next to George, blissfully, there's a wall on my other side, so I'm only pressed against one man. "Well, George, if you took the initiative to ask to sit next to me, what would you like to talk about?" I ask, feigning interest. His introduction had been fine. He had been fine, but to be quite honest, it was wholly forgettable. Maybe he will show me a new angle today.
George smiles, and I can't help myself but notice that it's a very attractive smile. A very attractive one. Hey, I might be in a committed relationship, but I have eyes. No one can fault me for that. "I don't know. I was wondering why dodgeball of all things?"
I look at him dead on, "Are you criticizing my date ideas, Mr. Hudson?"
He looks annoyingly unfazed by my tone of voice, "Not at all, Your Highness. In fact, I particularly enjoyed it. Just seemed like an odd idea. Take a roomful of competitive guys, give them foam balls and tell them to hurl the balls at each other as hard as possible. This might just be me, but it sounds like a recipe for disaster," he explains, his tone even.
I look at him smugly, "It wasn't a disaster, was it? Personally, I thought everyone enjoyed it. Of course you did." I state bluntly.
"Yes. I'm not denying that. It was fun to say the least. Reminds me of part of my training for the police force."
I consider his words carefully. I hadn't known that he was a police officer. Going by his looks and caste, I had assumed that he was a B-list actor or a rather unknown model. He should go into it after this whole selection. It's probably better off for his job prospects. We wouldn't want a handsome face like that getting damaged in some conflict, now would we?
"I wasn't aware that part of police training involved dodgeball." I say, flicking a dark curl off my shoulder. It had come free of my ponytail somehow. Odd considering that I had never actually stepped into the dodgeball court.
"Strictly speaking, it doesn't. But sometimes our instructors have us do it on a Friday to blow off steam. Makes the whole thing have a sense of comradery." George states proudly. He seems to enjoy talking about his work as a police officer.
"Are you saying that you're all normally fighting?" I ask, looking at him. I don't remark on how the selection must not be that big of a change for him. "I was fairly certain that the training didn't involve such competitiveness," I continue. I had looked over some reports on it, some testimonies of students, and nowhere does it state that the program fostered hostility.
So, I get the feeling that George might be the competitive one, not the police training.
Lovely.
"It depends. I think my group was more competitive than others." George says swiftly confirming my suspicions. He might not have said it outright, but I spend all day around people who tell me half-truths. I know how to spot one.
"What a unlucky coincidence." I say, tilting my head to the side.
"Some might say that." George admits, "Personally, I think it made me better."
"For you, maybe. But don't you think it's worse overall?" I ask, continuing to berate him. Fine, maybe I'm taking a bit of pleasure in this.
"Perhaps," he answers evenly.
I smirk at his response. One of the perks of being a Princess. No one can outright oppose me. They can disagree, they can suggest other outcomes, but in the end, I always win. Because, that's my birthright, and that's my future. I guess Pearl had gotten to George already, with her lessons in etiquette do's and do not's. I'm not saying that I particularly like the woman, but I will give her credit. She can get stuff done. Who knew that it would take a washed up reality tv star to be the one to convince my selected to agree with me.
Perfect. Practically heaven.
"Perhaps." I echo, "You know what, George. I don't have the energy to debate a topic that we both know I would win." he looks like he wants to protest this but I hold up a hand, signaling that I haven't finished yet. "So, tell me about something else. What is your favorite color?"
George looks surprised by my shift in demeanor and questioning, "My favorite color?" he repeats, seeming perturbed.
"Yes silly," I giggle. "Your favorite color. What is it?"
George takes my change with a considerable amount of surprise. "Okay. Um, I like the color orange," he says.
"Orange?" I wrinkle my nose, "That's such an ugly color."
George looks at me, "I like it. I like what it represents," he says cryptically. Ugh. What is with these boys and trying to act mysterious. Don't they know it's better to always lead head on? I have a five minute attention span max if they're boring me, so they better get the juicy stuff out first. That way I might actually consider finishing the conversation with them.
"And what does it represent?" I ask, my voice much sweeter than I feel.
George takes a deep breath before explaining, "It represents fire. There's something about it that's always called to me. The way fire can take everything in its path. I know that red is traditionally the power color, but for me I've always felt hat orange represents it better."
"Hm. You should bring that up to someone, sometime. Maybe you can start a revolution." I say waiting for the chauffeur to open the limousine door. We had arrived at the palace while I had been talking with George, as unpleasant as the conversation had been, it had been enough to distract me from looking out the window up until now.
"It was nice talking to you, George." I say, exiting the limo, giving the chauffeur a grateful smile. Once all the selected are out of the car, I address them all. "I had a lovely time today. Thank you so much for coming with me. If you were one of the winners, then expect a card to your room sometime soon. And don't bother attending dinner in the dining room. I promise you, this will be much better." I assure them. I don't know if it will be, but hey, it's always better to dangle a carrot in front of them.
I watch with some pleasure as the boys disperse, a few heading to the library, a couple back to their rooms, and most back to the men's parlor. I catch Henri's hand as he leaves, "Wait." I say quietly.
He nods, glancing at the few boys who haven't left yet. Once I'm satisfied with the amount of people left I speak to him. "I can't believe you lost dodgeball." I giggle lightly.
"To lose has many meanings," he says seriously.
"And you fulfilled all of them."
"Says the girl who didn't even participate."
I roll my eyes, "You know that my guards would never let me. It's so stupid. My cousins can do more things than me, and Teddy is 10 years old."
"I don't know, I think it's a small price." Henri says evenly.
I sigh, "I think so too. I want to be Queen more than I want to play some silly game. It's still annoying though." I complain leading him back to my room. It's fairly true, I don't really want to play dodgeball with a bunch of sweaty people that I don't even know. Sometimes the little things are irritating, but their minor inconveniences in the grand scheme of things.
"See? Besides, you weren't missing anything. Some of them took that game really seriously." Henri says, making me smile.
"I guess." I push open the door to my room. Luckily, Jenna is there. "Jenna." I call, waiting for her to get to the front of my room.
"Yes, Your Highness?" She asks, her eyes darting between me and Henri.
"Can you order a few pizzas for dinner? They're for Nathaniel, Nyson, uh, Owen and someone else."
"Eddie." Henri supplies for me.
"Yeah him. Send them a note saying where to meet." I explain, waving my hand lightly.
Jenna curtsies, making her way out of the room. I watch her go quietly, Henri following my gaze. Once she's gone, I turn to him. "Did you know that Nathaniel had a child?" I ask, sitting down on my bed. It felt like that conversation had been hours ago, but the thought still bothered me.
"Yeah. I did. He talks about him a lot. I think the boy's name is Tyler." Henri answers, making me frown. Why didn't anyone tell me?
"Wait why didn't you tell me?" I ask, going to stare at my reflection in the mirror. Despite the hefty amount of time that had passed, my makeup still looked good. I wouldn't have to touch it up before dinner.
"I told you Car, I'm not fueling your gossip problem."
I look up at him, "I do not have a gossip problem." I insist.
"No, I'm fairly sure you do."
I roll my eyes, trying to hide my smile. "Fine. Whatever, Agree to disagree."
I really wish that I didn't have 27 other boys in my home now.
A/N: Hello my friends, I hope you are all having a wonderful Friday, and that you had the best Thanksgiving if you celebrate it. Today, we met a new boy, George. If you're wondering what happened to his introduction, well, he didn't have one. He was submitted after that. But, I hope you like him. Also, the results of the poll are in. Lady Van Der Witts won as the worst teacher, which I completely agree with That's all I have to say in this A/N, have a fabulous week
