I was awoken at 3 A.M. by Queenie shaking me. At first I thought it was a surreal interruption into my otherwise pleasant dream.
"Rachelle, wake up. You must wake up. We are in danger."
I yawned. "What is this, a drill? I don't want--"
"Goddamnit, we're all going to die! Get up NOW." Queenie yanked the covers off me.
I sat up. "What's going on?"
Mia appeared in the doorway. "Grandmere, this is scary! What should I do?"
Queenie sighed. "Mia, just pack your important things and get in the car. We have to get to the airport."
"Car? Airport? Why didn't someone tell me about this?"
As Mia left, Queenie filled me in on the situation. "We got a call from someone, we don't know who it is yet. They claim that there is a bomb in the embassy and we have half an hour to get out before it blows up." She looked at her watch. "Actually, we now have twenty-three minutes."
A bomb. Shit.
I shot out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. I only had a few things (laptop, CDs, spare clothes) that I had to pack, so I threw them all into a backpack. I put the Genovian Seal that I had got from my mother around my neck.
Queenie shoved it inside my shirt. "Don't let anyone see that. Do you have a death wish?"
"What?"
"If the perpetrators of this incident are whom I think they are, there will be many people around who do not wish to see the Royal Seal." She dragged me out to the limo. "Don't worry about your precious Satine; I got the servants out already. They are trained in case of emergencies like this and will meet us at the airport."
We sped through the dark New York streets, lights off and flags flying, running red lights and speeding through intersections with diplomatic immunity. Joseph was driving us (we didn't have a regular chauffeur, and Queenie didn't trust anyone from an agency). Mia was huddled in the back, hugging her teddy bear and whimpering to herself. Queenie was in between us, chattering in rapid-fire French to someone on her cell phone.
I was watching the scenery go by and thinking about what a weird situation this was. Just a month ago I had been a street kid with no hope of ever getting a job or going to college--now I was a royal personage being rushed to safety because someone thought I was important enough to kill. Amazing.
Mia sniffled. "Who would do something like that? Who would be mean enough to plant a bomb in my house?"
"Anyone who isn't satisfied with the way Queenie is running Genovia," I said, thinking about the Royal Seal. "And anyone in America who really knew about the situation. And someone who could infiltrate the embassy to the point of being able to plant a bomb. And someone who didn't actually want us to get blown up, so they sent in a message telling us to get out..."
"But who knows about Genovia? It's just a stupid old country."
I nodded. "There's hardly anyone in the US who cares about the political situation in Genovia to do something like this."
"Lilly might. We were talking a few days ago and she said that she thought the whole idea of a Royal Family was...um...obsolete," Mia ventured.
Had I been fully awake, I might have started speculating about the suspects. But it was 3:30 in the morning and I was very, very tired. I can't usually get by on less than seven hours of sleep.
We were at LaGuardia before I knew it. The airport was crowded, but we were hustled through security and into the departure lounge before I had a chance to open my eyes.
Mia settled down into a plastic chair and curled up with her teddy. She looked very young, too young to have to be dealing with any of this crap. I almost felt sorry for her--she hadn't asked for any of this. No teenage girl should have to worry that there are whole political groups who would cheerfully put her head on a spike.
Queenie was standing at the gate, yelling at a clerk. Joseph was behind her, looking intimidating. "What do you mean the plane is not here yet? Where could the plane be? Does this airport have no charter planes? I called and asked for one an hour ago, surely you must have found someone that is willing to take a queen to her country?"
The lady shook her head. "I'm very sorry, Miss. We here at LaGuardia International Airport do not usually take last-minute charters. You should have made an advance reservation--"
"There was a bomb threat at the embassy! We must go back now! How could I have known about it in advance?"
"Very sorry Miss but I--"
"This is a matter of life and death! Surely there is a pilot with a small plane who is willing to take us across the Atlantic?"
"The only European flight we have this early is for Heathrow Airport in England. It leaves in fifty-five minutes. Would you like to take that one?"
Queenie shook her head. "I must have a flight directly to my country. Do you know of Elwes International Airport, in the city of Tobeins? Does any pilot here know where it is? I am a rich woman and I will pay anyone very handsomely who can take me there." She quietly spread a roll of bills out on the counter.
The clerk's eyes widened and she stuffed the bills in her breast pocket. "I'll see what I can do."
I wandered around for about a half hour, getting coffee and drinking it slowly. Except for a brief jaunt up to Canada on a field trip and a week in Mexico with my dad a few years ago, I had never been out of the country. Queenie hadn't mentioned whether we were just laying low until the heat from the bomb threat died down, or if it was going to be a permanent situation.
I ended up back in the lounge. Satine and the other two servants, Marina and Loare, had finally arrived and were glued to the TV, which was turned to CNN.
Onscreen, someone was talking about "the attempted bombing of the Genovian Embassy in Manhattan. The building was partially destroyed at 4 AM today when a small plastique bomb went off. Luckily, nobody was hurt, as the building had already been evacuated. There was not very much damage, as you can see from our newsfeed--" the embassy was shown with a small hole in the entranceway "--but police are already making an inquiry. Sources say that the bombing was politically motivated and may have been the work of anti-Royalist Genovians in the United States."
Satine noticed me and beckoned me over. I sat down next to her. "How are you doing?" I asked softly.
Satine hugged me. "I am just glad you are not hurt, Rachelle. But I am also glad that I will be able to go back home soon!" Her eyes were shining.
"Home? But I thought you were Florinese."
"Yes. But I consider Genovia to be my home. After all, I have spent most of my life there." She sighed. "I would like to go back to Florin, though, to visit the farm where my ancestors lived, and to walk through the Fire Swamp where my great-great-great-grandmother hid when she was being chased..."
I put my arm around her. "I promise I'll take you to Florin, Satine. I'll free your parents and then we can all go and you can show me all the places that you tell me about."
We sat there, looking into the future.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I shall conclude, for I am no longer a duchess in America. A new age is dawning, and with it, a new diary. Keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting installment about my zany political hijinx in Genovia.
"Rachelle, wake up. You must wake up. We are in danger."
I yawned. "What is this, a drill? I don't want--"
"Goddamnit, we're all going to die! Get up NOW." Queenie yanked the covers off me.
I sat up. "What's going on?"
Mia appeared in the doorway. "Grandmere, this is scary! What should I do?"
Queenie sighed. "Mia, just pack your important things and get in the car. We have to get to the airport."
"Car? Airport? Why didn't someone tell me about this?"
As Mia left, Queenie filled me in on the situation. "We got a call from someone, we don't know who it is yet. They claim that there is a bomb in the embassy and we have half an hour to get out before it blows up." She looked at her watch. "Actually, we now have twenty-three minutes."
A bomb. Shit.
I shot out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. I only had a few things (laptop, CDs, spare clothes) that I had to pack, so I threw them all into a backpack. I put the Genovian Seal that I had got from my mother around my neck.
Queenie shoved it inside my shirt. "Don't let anyone see that. Do you have a death wish?"
"What?"
"If the perpetrators of this incident are whom I think they are, there will be many people around who do not wish to see the Royal Seal." She dragged me out to the limo. "Don't worry about your precious Satine; I got the servants out already. They are trained in case of emergencies like this and will meet us at the airport."
We sped through the dark New York streets, lights off and flags flying, running red lights and speeding through intersections with diplomatic immunity. Joseph was driving us (we didn't have a regular chauffeur, and Queenie didn't trust anyone from an agency). Mia was huddled in the back, hugging her teddy bear and whimpering to herself. Queenie was in between us, chattering in rapid-fire French to someone on her cell phone.
I was watching the scenery go by and thinking about what a weird situation this was. Just a month ago I had been a street kid with no hope of ever getting a job or going to college--now I was a royal personage being rushed to safety because someone thought I was important enough to kill. Amazing.
Mia sniffled. "Who would do something like that? Who would be mean enough to plant a bomb in my house?"
"Anyone who isn't satisfied with the way Queenie is running Genovia," I said, thinking about the Royal Seal. "And anyone in America who really knew about the situation. And someone who could infiltrate the embassy to the point of being able to plant a bomb. And someone who didn't actually want us to get blown up, so they sent in a message telling us to get out..."
"But who knows about Genovia? It's just a stupid old country."
I nodded. "There's hardly anyone in the US who cares about the political situation in Genovia to do something like this."
"Lilly might. We were talking a few days ago and she said that she thought the whole idea of a Royal Family was...um...obsolete," Mia ventured.
Had I been fully awake, I might have started speculating about the suspects. But it was 3:30 in the morning and I was very, very tired. I can't usually get by on less than seven hours of sleep.
We were at LaGuardia before I knew it. The airport was crowded, but we were hustled through security and into the departure lounge before I had a chance to open my eyes.
Mia settled down into a plastic chair and curled up with her teddy. She looked very young, too young to have to be dealing with any of this crap. I almost felt sorry for her--she hadn't asked for any of this. No teenage girl should have to worry that there are whole political groups who would cheerfully put her head on a spike.
Queenie was standing at the gate, yelling at a clerk. Joseph was behind her, looking intimidating. "What do you mean the plane is not here yet? Where could the plane be? Does this airport have no charter planes? I called and asked for one an hour ago, surely you must have found someone that is willing to take a queen to her country?"
The lady shook her head. "I'm very sorry, Miss. We here at LaGuardia International Airport do not usually take last-minute charters. You should have made an advance reservation--"
"There was a bomb threat at the embassy! We must go back now! How could I have known about it in advance?"
"Very sorry Miss but I--"
"This is a matter of life and death! Surely there is a pilot with a small plane who is willing to take us across the Atlantic?"
"The only European flight we have this early is for Heathrow Airport in England. It leaves in fifty-five minutes. Would you like to take that one?"
Queenie shook her head. "I must have a flight directly to my country. Do you know of Elwes International Airport, in the city of Tobeins? Does any pilot here know where it is? I am a rich woman and I will pay anyone very handsomely who can take me there." She quietly spread a roll of bills out on the counter.
The clerk's eyes widened and she stuffed the bills in her breast pocket. "I'll see what I can do."
I wandered around for about a half hour, getting coffee and drinking it slowly. Except for a brief jaunt up to Canada on a field trip and a week in Mexico with my dad a few years ago, I had never been out of the country. Queenie hadn't mentioned whether we were just laying low until the heat from the bomb threat died down, or if it was going to be a permanent situation.
I ended up back in the lounge. Satine and the other two servants, Marina and Loare, had finally arrived and were glued to the TV, which was turned to CNN.
Onscreen, someone was talking about "the attempted bombing of the Genovian Embassy in Manhattan. The building was partially destroyed at 4 AM today when a small plastique bomb went off. Luckily, nobody was hurt, as the building had already been evacuated. There was not very much damage, as you can see from our newsfeed--" the embassy was shown with a small hole in the entranceway "--but police are already making an inquiry. Sources say that the bombing was politically motivated and may have been the work of anti-Royalist Genovians in the United States."
Satine noticed me and beckoned me over. I sat down next to her. "How are you doing?" I asked softly.
Satine hugged me. "I am just glad you are not hurt, Rachelle. But I am also glad that I will be able to go back home soon!" Her eyes were shining.
"Home? But I thought you were Florinese."
"Yes. But I consider Genovia to be my home. After all, I have spent most of my life there." She sighed. "I would like to go back to Florin, though, to visit the farm where my ancestors lived, and to walk through the Fire Swamp where my great-great-great-grandmother hid when she was being chased..."
I put my arm around her. "I promise I'll take you to Florin, Satine. I'll free your parents and then we can all go and you can show me all the places that you tell me about."
We sat there, looking into the future.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I shall conclude, for I am no longer a duchess in America. A new age is dawning, and with it, a new diary. Keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting installment about my zany political hijinx in Genovia.