"Clear Wing Synchro Dragon, finish this off! Spin Sky Storm Strike!" yelled Rainbow as she commanded her monster to deliver the final blow to her opponent. The beast roared as it took to the air and flew upward as it flew out of the building; it then stopped at its maximum altitude before diving down and spinning quickly as it collided with its target.
"And moving on to the semi-finals is Rainbow Dash!" said the MC as the duelist pointed to the sky as her dragon roared behind her.
"I'm telling you folks, this Invitational Tournament has been nothing short of amazing!" said another MC.
"And remember. The tournament winner gets a shot at the World Champion at our next premium live event: Crown Jewel!"
Watching one of the TVs in Mane Melody was Zipp as the girl sat in one of the waiting chairs and looked at the screen.
"With the way Ms. Dash is dueling, I wouldn't mind seeing her and Isaac run it back for round 2," said the MC.
"So, she's moving on, huh?" stated Hitch as he appeared next to the girl and looked at the screen.
"Yup," confirmed Zipp as they continued to watch the broadcast.
A camera crew was following Rainbow up the ramp as she was looking to head to the back. As she was walking down the stairs to the backstage area, she ran into Isaac as the World Champ stared at his potential challenger. The crowd's roar was heard in the background as the feed transmitted the two confronting the other; Zipp and Hitch were now more interested in seeing what might happen to the two duelists staring each other down.
"You! Me! Two!" shouted Rainbow as she pointed at Isaac and herself before throwing up two fingers. The athlete told the World Champion that she would win and get her rematch of becoming the top duelist.
Isaac merely smiled as he responded to Rainbow's remark.
"Everyone wants to face the champ. Get in line!" responded Isaac.
His music then began to play as he walked past Rainbow, giving her one last glaring look before climbing up the stairs to the stage as he looked to entertain the crowd. Rainbow kept her glance as she walked away. Isaac walked down to the field in the arena as the crowd sang along.
Adrenaline in my soul
Every fight out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet
Crowd is here, about to blow
Waitin' for me to start the show
Out the curtain, lights go up
I'm home (whoa)
"Whoa!" said Hitch and Zipp as they sang along and shouted that part as loud as they could.
"Cállate!" yelled Mario.
The boy looked at his two classmates as he glared at them for shouting his father's song.
"Would you two shut up?! I don't want to hear you two singing that song while I'm around!" said the boy as he saw the image of his father. His glare grew more intense as Hitch and Zipp saw his demeanor change.
"Sorry, bud," said Hitch.
Mario scoffed at Hitch's response as he put in some earbuds to drown out the song. The two exchanged looks after seeing Mario's latest outburst involving his father. They returned to watching the TV as the World Champ activated his Duel Disk.
"Have you uncovered anything?" asked Isaac as he video-called his wife.
"Nothing new, but I'm still working on it. Owloysius is installing a more improved security measure," said the woman as she was looking at a hologram board and moved her hands about to make the images change. "By the way, honey, how was your duel?"
"Same old, same old. But... Rainbow got in my face and is already declaring herself the #1 contender."
"She really must want to lose to you twice," chuckled Twilight as she turned around to face her husband. At that moment, one of her employees whispered into her ear. "Alright, I'll be there," stated the woman as her employee left.
"Another issue?" asked Isaac with a smile.
"Yeah. I gotta go, honey. I'll be in touch."
"Take care."
The video call ended as the World Champ looked out of the limo's window. He was staring at the passing buildings as next to him was Juniper; the woman was on her tablet, looking at their next set of appointments for the next few days. However, right now, the pair were heading somewhere... and it didn't take long to get there.
"We're here, sir," said the driver.
"Thanks," responded Isaac as Juniper got out.
The pair arrived at an old, run-down building as the windows themselves were a bit smashed; the paint itself was starting to wear down as the sign above creaked with a small breeze. Isaac smiled before heading inside as Juniper followed him; stepping through the front door, the World Champion was welcomed to the sight of old and rusty gym equipment. A big room filled with tons of mats and punching bags nearby. While the pro duelist liked what he saw, Juniper had a different expression. She flipped a light switch and was surprised to see them still working as it dimly lit the place.
"How soon can we buy it?" asked Isaac, looking about.
"Well, with a single call," said Juinper as she scrapped a finger over a counter as it had some dust. She blew on it as the dust scattered and made the woman cough as she inhaled some. "But... [cough]... are you sure you want this place?"
"Come on, Juniper. Don't you agree it gives it that old aesthetic, gritty, dirty feel?" chuckled Isaac as he pulled a climbing chain.
"Well... [cough]... yes," said the woman, still trying to get the dust out of her lungs.
"I want a place where duelists can come in and hone their craft. A place of sanctity, if you will. All it needs is a little TLC." Isaac knocked on some dumbells as they fell to the floor with a thud, but he didn't care.
"More like a lot," stated Juniper as she took photos with her tablet and scanned about the room.
Once she collected all the data she needed, she began to work her technological prowess. The agent was running different schematics on the blueprints she took photos of as they gave her many ideas on changing the room. She then added the adjustments that her client wanted, and when she got the final result, she held her tablet out to project a hologram of the finished product. Isaac jumped down from a nearby window as he saw the hologram.
"What do you think?" asked Juniper as she showed him the remodel design.
"I like what I'm seeing. But let's make a few adjustments. The punching bags over here. We'll add a second floor to turn it into a running track upstairs. Weights and treadmills over here. And in the center, one giant field with a few smaller ones spread out." said Isaac as he touched the hologram and moved pieces around to fit his vision.
"Alright, so, what do you want the name of your Duel Monsters school to be?" asked Juniper as they were working on the final details to make Isaac's vision of having a school dedicated to teaching Duel Monsters to anybody come to life.
"The name needs to draw attention. Me being World Champion automatically draws that in. But I want to make sure that the name alone has creditability. Mmm." said Isaac as he pondered the name. "How about... DMC?
"DMC... what does that stand for?" asked Juniper.
"Duel Monsters Collide," said Isaac as he put his hand out to envision the name of his dueling school.
"I think I can work with that," said the woman as she inputted Isaac's name for his training dueling facility and added the final touches.
"Now... we just need the materials to start building," said the World Champ.
"Then let me make a few calls to see what I can do," said Juniper as he retracted the hologram and tapped her earpiece as she began to contact someone.
"Hello? Yes, I'd like to..."
Juniper walked away to handle the assembly of the construction and materials while Isaac smiled. The World Champ then pulled out his phone and began to contact someone of his own.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Rarity."
"Darling. It's been a while. What can I do for you? Need me to make another attire for you to wear for your duels?" asked the fashionista.
"Heh. Not yet, Rares. But... I have something here that needs your superior interior design. You up for the challenge?" asked Isaac as he looked about the old-run place.
"Darling! Nothing is too much of a challenge for my designs!" boasted the fashion designer as she took pride in making things look fabulous. "Just name the time and place!"
"That's what I like to hear," smiled Isaac as he began to lay the groundwork for the fashion designer.
In the workshop class, the students were at their workstations. Izzy was humming a song to herself as her workstation was full of stuff and junk. The girl had a hammer and was hammering some nails into a piece of wood before grabbing a wrench and turning some screws. The girl was lost in her own little world as she worked on her latest project.
The teacher came to the girl's station, noticing her grabbing a small statue and winding up the keyhole.
"And what's all this, Ms. Moonbow?" asked the teacher.
"Behold!" said Izzy as she put her goggles on her head and sprinkled some glitter into the air as it fell. "Introducing... Villa de la Izzy. Echo. Echo. Echo." said the girl as she provided the echoes herself. "It all begins on the days of Yore, on the eves of the Translucent Moonstone Moon…" She said as she started echoing herself again.
The girl flipped a tiny switch as her entire city, which she made of junk, lit up. It was a small village with a plaza in the middle and a fountain in the center. Tiny figurines that she made were standing in front of the fountain as she winded them up and made them wave hello.
"My, my! Stellar work as always, Ms. Moonbow!" said the teacher, once again amazed by Izzy's creativity. "And who are the tiny statues supposed to be?"
"Easy. They're my friends!" smiled Izzy as she pointed at each figure. "There's me. Zipp, Sunny, Roll, Pipp, Hitch, and Mario. All of us. Like a team."
"Mmm," said the teacher as he jotted down some notes. "Excellent work!"
"Yippee! Thanks!" smiled Izzy as she began to play with the windup toys.
Soon, the school bell rang.
"Alright, class dismissed!" said the teacher as the students began to pack their stuff.
Luna was shown outside the classroom as she held the door open; the students all gave passing-by hellos to their Vice-principal as she smiled at them. Once all the teens left, she approached the professor.
"So, how was today's batch?" asked the woman.
"All talented. Each is very invested in learning. But more specifically, Ms. Moonbow shows promise." said the teacher as he led Luna to Izzy's workstation as her creation was still there.
Luna looked at what Izzy made and the tiny waving figures that resembled the girl and her friends.
"Ms. Moonbow's creativity is unlike anything I've ever seen. She could make anything from even a pile of junk. She could have a career as an engineer.
"Perhaps. Izzy reminds me of someone else with her eccentric and overabundance of energy," stated Luna, as she too saw that Izzy had potential for a bright future with her skillset.
In Ms. Cheerilee's English class, the woman was covering the topic of Poetry; most of the students were bored out of their minds as they listened to the professor ramble on.
"Words and language, no matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. We don't read or write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, which is filled with passion." said Cheerilee.
"Medicine, law, business, engineering... these are noble pursuits necessary to sustain life, but poetry. Beauty, romance, love... these are what we stay alive for. The quote from Whitman: O me o life of the questions of these recurring of the endless trains of the faithless of cities filled with the foolish but good amid these o me o life. Answer that you are here. That life exists, and identity and the powerful play continues, and you may contribute a verse. If the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. What will be your verse?"
Ms. Cheerilee's small speech gained the attention of some of the students. The words spoken by the woman seemed to inspire the teens as they thought about what she said and how/what verse they might leave as their mark. Cheerilee smiled at seeing her class snapping out of their bored expressions before looking at a certain desk.
Hitch had his head down as he was shown scribbling something on a piece of paper. The boy had a laid-back and semi-focused look as the sound of his pencil could be heard; he was unaware of Ms. Cheerilee approaching his desk as she was not pleased to see the boy not paying attention. Cheerilee cleared her throat to get the teen's attention as Hitch didn't seem to hear her.
"Hitch!" whispered Roll to her friend who sat behind him.
"Hitch!" shouted Cheerilee.
That got the boy's attention as he sat up and made his pencil fly upward as it fell on his desk. He quickly saw his teacher looking at him with a glare as he hid his piece of paper under his arm, hoping she didn't see it.
"Yes, Ms. Cheerilee," responded the boy with some nervousness in his tone.
"Seeing as how you'd rather pay attention to your scribbling rather than my lesson, perhaps you'd like to explain what that thing under your arm is?!" stated the woman.
"Oh... it's um, n-nothing," said Hitch, as he gulped.
"Nothing, you say? Well, if it's nothing, then perhaps you wouldn't mind sharing with the rest of the class, then!" yelled Ms. Cheerilee.
Hitch was sweating even more as he didn't like being put on the spot by his teacher, but it was his fault for not paying attention. The boy soon lifted his arm as he revealed the piece of paper he was scribbling on; he picked it up and looked at it before glancing at his professor, who kept his glare on him. Roll rubbed her forehead while looking away, praying for her friend that Hitch find some mercy in Ms. Cheerilee's wrath. The teen took a deep breath as he read what he had written.
"You are my half; you are what I've been searching for; everything pointed to you, and destiny brought you into my life. I don't know much about you, but if our halves meet, then it can be so true. Love is complicated, confusing, and mysterious, but none of that matters every time I see you. We know so little about ourselves, and we know so little about one another, but let us join together and share our feelings. Please go out with me, and let us share our time; let me be a part of you as you can be a part of me."
Hitch finished reading what he wrote as he looked at his teacher. Ms. Cheerilee stood there as she took in what was said outloud.
"It's a uh, uh, a poem," said Hitch as he put the paper down.
"Seems you did pay attention, Mr. Hitch. Great work," said Ms. Cheerilee as she walked away.
Hitch let out a sigh of relief, knowing he dodged a bullet. The boy slumped back in his chair as he thanked the heavens for avoiding trouble.
"Nice recovery," whispered Roll to her friend from behind.
Eventually, the bell rang as Ms. Cheerilee's latest English class began to file out. Hitch and Roll were about to be out the door when...
"A moment, Mr. Hitch!" said the woman as she caught the student before he left.
"Good luck, bud," whispered Roll while patting the boy's shoulder as she prayed for his safety before heading out.
Hitch let out a nervous gulp as he made his way to his teacher's desk. Cheerilee was grading some papers as she finished grading the latest assignment before setting it in a stack of papers and looked at the teen.
"Yes, Ms. Cheerilee?" said Hitch nervously.
"Take a seat," said the woman as the boy sat beside her desk. "Don't think I've forgotten what happened in class, Hitch."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Cheerilee. I promise to pay attention next time."
"Don't let this be a recurring thing, Hitch. You're a smart student and a hard worker. With the way your grades are, you might be on track to be your class representative next year. And know that's a big responsibility. Like.. a sheriff to a small town. Do you understand?"
"I do. And I promise from now on, no more distractions," said Hitch, giving his word that he'd focus.
"I'll hold you to that. Now then, about your poem? While it served as a cover for the class, I am genuinely impressed by what you wrote. It's one of the best pieces a student has written in all my years of teaching. Tell me, what was your inspiration?" asked Cheerilee as she leaned forward on her desk and looked at her student.
"Um, well, it... just came to me," said Hitch sheepishly as he rubbed his neck.
"Come now, Hitch. A poem like that doesn't just come to someone unless they've really thought about it. Or... it comes from within. Poetry is also a way for us to express ourselves or certain emotions that we're either too nervous or can't put into words." said Cheerilee. The woman looked at her student as she began to examine him. "Tell me... do you have feelings toward anybody?"
"Um, what?" said Hitch, caught off guard by what his teacher mentioned.
"Ah, that right there confirms it," said Cheerilee.
"What? I'm just... wasn't expecting you to ask that!" responded the boy as he tried to defend himself.
"Hitch. You're a teenager. And a boy. It's perfectly natural to be attracted to a girl, whether it's romantic or not. It's the basic biology of a male and a female. So..."
"Well, I don't know about feelings, but... there... is someone I'm very close with. Her name is Sunny."
"Ah, Ms. Starscout," said Cheerilee as she knew who Sunny was as she was in one of her other first-year students' English classes she taught.
"Yeah. She's been my best friend since we were kids. We've always done everything together."
"Ah, the classic tale of childhood friends," sighed Cheerilee, with a little bliss in her voice as she daydreamed a bit. "Well, all I can say is, Hitch. Treasure your friendship with Ms. Starscout. Regardless of any further intentions between you two, always remember that bond you two have as friends. It's an important thing to have in life, and it may be more powerful than you give credit right now. Do you understand?"
"I... understand," said Hitch, not fully understanding what his teacher said. But he knew that he would never forget his friendship with Sunny due to how close they were.
"Very well. You're free to go. But remember..."
"I promise," said Hitch as he got up and proceeded to the door. "See you tomorrow, Ms. Cheerilee."
"See you in class, Hitch!" said the woman as she leaned back in her chair after seeing her student leave.
That boy is a lucky one.
And speaking of boys, Mario was lying on the grass underneath a tree. The teen had his hands behind his head as he had his eyes closed; the boy had some headphones in as he was silently jamming out to the music he was hearing.
"...Me in the pen. Then me and Lorenzo, rolling in the benzo..."
"You seem to be jammin'!"
The boy heard the response as he opened his eyes and saw Zipp standing over him.
"Mind if I chill?" asked the athletic teen.
Mario gave a small hand gesture as he took off his headphones, with Zipp sitting next to the lying boy as she pulled her knees to her chest. The pair didn't say anything initially as Zipp looked forward, with Mario returning his gaze upward. The latter was eyeing the passing clouds while the former watched some students from afar as they talked and played. Eventually, the silence was broken as Zipp rested her head on her knees and was snapped out of her thoughts by her friend's voice.
"So, what brings you here, rich girl?" asked Mario.
"I'm actually ditching Physics," Zipp answered, knowing her mom would not approve of skipping classes. "You?"
"Free period," said Mario, as he had nothing else to do before his next class.
"Lucky," said Zipp with a small smile.
"Well, compared to you, when you're an heiress, you can do whatever you want?" responded the boy.
"Right? An heiress?" reiterated Zipp, as she didn't like hearing that label. "Hey. Can I... ask you something?"
"Shoot," responded the boy while still looking at the sky.
"Do you, um... do you feel a sort of responsibility for who your parents are?" asked the girl. Mario merely turned his head and gave the girl a look, "I'm not talking about your father," said Zipp, waving her hands about dismissively. "It's moreso your mother."
Mario's expression changed as his eyes shifted.
"We're alike in that both of our mothers run companies. And seeing as how we're their offspring, that makes us heirs."
"Heirs?"
"You know... inheritors."
Mario raised an eyebrow at Zipp's statement, showing he wasn't catching what the girl was trying to say.
"Alright. Look, let's put it this way. Our parents are like royalty. So if our Moms are queens, that makes you a prince, and I'm a princess. We're royal by blood. You follow that?" said Zipp.
"Why didn't you just say that, to begin with?" asked Mario as he felt that would've been easier.
"It's the 21st century. That's the equivalent of royalty nowadays in business owners and companies. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about history with you. I just want to ask you if, because you're related to your mother, do you feel like your future is already decided?" asked the girl.
Mario turned on his side and looked at Zipp.
"So, is this another moment of the princess being vulnerable behind her tomboyish, tough, cool demeanor that you don't want others to know about?" asked the boy with some smugness.
"N-No, I mean, maybe I..." Zipp was now stuttering as Mario held his smug smile, seeing how he made the girl flustered. "Look, I wanna be real with you. My mom wants me to take over the family business. She wants me to "inherit the throne," as she often says. But... I don't know if me being a business owner is what I want to do for the rest of my life."
"And here I thought your only worry was trying to find a prince to sweep you off your feet," responded Mario, keeping his smug smile.
"That too. Wait a minute, n-no! Not like that!" said Zipp as she registered what Mario said and what she responded with.
The boy couldn't hold it back anymore as he let loose a series of laughs that made Zipp's face red.
"It's not funny, lover boy!"
"Oh, it's pretty funny, rich girl," responded Mario as he ceased his laughter and looked at the girl.
"Look, I'm dead serious. Do your parents know what they want your future to be?"
"No," responded Mario as he shifted his position to sit up. "When it comes to me and my mother, she just says to do what I think is right. Whatever I decide to do with my life, she'll support it."
"I... You're lucky. I wish... I wish... I wish my mom were a bit like that." said Zipp, jealous at how her lifestyle differed from Mario's.
"Tell me. How was it having to grow up with your mother's expectations?" asked the boy as he scooted closer to Zipp and rested his left arm on his knee.
"Heh. Where do I begin?" chuckled Zipp as she recalled some memories.
"Now, Zephyrina, let's go over this again."
The 6-year-old girl pinched at the hem of her dress and rolled her eyes at the nanny.
"Again, Mrs. Tori?"
The tea chairs were uncomfortable. Zipp wondered if they knew about it since she could testify how they felt. They were made of wrought iron, contorted into curls that resembled cold, rigid flowers. The little raised nubs where the tips of the petals were supposed to be pressed on Zipp's back—somehow at all the worst pressure points.
"Yes, we shall do it again," Mrs. Tori, the woman hired by their mother to be her daughters' nanny, said sternly. "Zephyrina, how will you ever become a good lady if I can't teach you proper tea etiquette?"
The girl groaned, shifting her butt on the hard chair as she felt another painful pressure point.
"But we've done the exact same thing for two whole hours! 'Would you like some tea, Ms. Storm?" 'Yes, please, thank you, Mrs. Tori.' 'Milk or sugar, Ms. Storm?' 'Two cubes of sugar, please, thank you, Mrs. Tori.''Why can't I ask for more than two cubes of sugar?" blurted out Zipp.
"It's not ladylike to ask for so much sugar," responded Mrs. Tori.
"But it tastes better that way. Tea is so bitter. Ughbleghughhh."
Zipp sat across from Mrs. Tori, the nanny who had served her family devotedly for over 30 years. Mrs. Tori had been Haven's nanny too. She was a tired older woman, with one wrinkle every time she admonished a girl for incorrect fork placement or stirring the tea in the wrong direction. They sat outside in the terraced tea garden; the air was motionless, without wind. Servants stood at the gates like peri-fossilized people slowly solidifying into statues. The walls were overgrown with flowers and grafted citrus trees, perfectly manicured by their legion of gardeners.
"Now, watch carefully again." Ms. Tori did not move. She executed. The teapot raised, hand against the lid, tilting the teapot for 4 seconds, releveling the teapot. All Zipp could do was sit and watch.
As she executed, she spoke. "See, Zephyrina. A good lady has poise. She has dignity. She is demure."
The teapot rested on the saucer. Clink.
Zipp burped. She was getting so hungry the acid was starting to come up.
"Zephyrina! Really!"
Zipp wanted so badly to get up from her stupid tea chair and just bite straight through one of the fruits growing on the trees, skin and all. And from the furtive glances she saw the nanny make at the orange tree, she knew she wasn't the only one hungry.
"Now, Zephyrina, your turn."
"I thought I got it right the last time."
"Your pouring of the tea was much too abrupt and careless, with too much splashing. You must be gentle with your pours."
Zipp gave Mrs. Tori an incredulous look and leaned back in her wrought iron chair so hard that it tilted back a few inches. "I got the tea into the cup, didn't I? Ugh. Why don't you just let Pipp do the tea ceremonies or whatever you call it? She actually enjoys this kind of thing." Pipp was only 5 when she passed Tea Etiquette 101 with flying colors if that was even worthy of being called a subject.
"You are the Crown Heiress, Zipp. You will receive the most guests. You will have to have tea with them. And you must represent your company well with the way you have tea. Your mother would understand."
Zipp was staring at the vines on the wall, listening with one ear. Two oranges looked particularly ripe if she could quickly dash over and grab those two. The tiers of cucumber sandwiches and macarons lay untouched. They hadn't got to that part of the lesson yet. And if they didn't get to that point today, all the food would be thrown down the rubbish chute and remade for the next time. Zipp watched the tired older woman sitting across from her as she counted the untrimmed strands of hair on her fetlocks. The tea was the first. Then the hors d oeuvres. Then, the proper salutations and introductions. Then, the appropriate small talk. But Mrs. Tori kept glancing at the orange tree, rebelliously poking out of the restraint, tying it to the trellis on the wall.
In that sense, Zipp felt a kindred spirit with Mrs. Tori. Without saying a word, Zipp poured them both tea. Zipp dropped four cubes of sugar into her own cup. Zipp got up from her chair and picked the ripest orange off one of the trees. She placed the fruit on a saucer and pushed it across the table to Mrs. Tori.
"What is this?"
"It's for you, Mrs. Tori," Zipp said. "You look hungry."
"Safe to say, I didn't pass the lesson that day," said Zipp as she finished recounting her memory and made her get a small chuckle.
"I never took you for a rebellious, tomboyish girl," responded Mario with a smug look.
"Shut up," responded the girl with the same tone as she playfully punched the boy in his arm as both chuckled.
"What other trouble did you get up to?" asked Mario.
"Well..."
"See, Mrs. Tori! If I connect these sticks together and pull the string like that…see!? It spins really fast, and it flies into the air!"
The governess gasped, but not for the right reason. "Zephyrina! What have you done with the watercolor brushes!?"
Zipp had turned ten last month and had grown increasingly unfocused during her lessons with the nanny. Ever since Zipp began more advanced education under her tutor—a retired professor from the Canterlot University College of Science—all the more she rebelled against the subjects she hated. One of the paintbrush handles was sawn off to make the shaft of the mini windup helicopter. Pieces of canvas were meticulously shaped into the blades, and the string used to support the easel was cut to make the winding device.
Zipp looked disappointed. "Well, you said you wanted to teach me arts and crafts, right? This is arts and crafts. Watch!" She dashed outside, chasing the spinning rotor as it drifted out of the window. "Did you see that!? Did you see that!?"
Mrs. Tori grabbed her from behind. "Zephyrina. Stop that. Look at me. Do you want to act like a real lady or not!?"
"So what? I AM a lady." She rolled her eyes. "You mean running in grass strips me of all my regal titles?"
"Grass! Oh goodness, Zephyrina, there's mud all caked on your skin and hair! And look at all the dust and scratches on your fingers! How will they ever be filed down!? And your dress! You've creased it!" The nanny picked up the delicate fabric at the hem and showed it to her. "This was your mother's when she was a little girl. It's a family heirloom. Your mother took such good care of it when she was your age. You're ten years old, Zephyrina, old enough to understand that, right?"
"Well, I already told you I hate it."
"Zephyrina, watch your language! A lady does not speak with that tone to anybody!"
"Well, it's the truth! It's all your fault for making me wear it in the first place!"
Silence.
The nanny sighed heavily and put her hands to her face.
Zipp's expression softened. "I…I'm sorry, teach, I didn't mean to be…"
"No, Zephyrina. It's all right." She faded into a barely coherent mumble, further muffled by her hands against her face. "Do you think I care what you wear? Do I care if you act like a lady? 'Make my Zephyrina start acting like how a lady should.' And then "Her Majesty" struts off with barely a thank you. Was it that long ago I was still scolding her to sit straight at the dinner table? And now she's the one bossing me around. Ugh. I'm too old for this. I should be retired."
Zipp sat quietly on the painting stool, listening to the old nanny continue to mumble. If there was one ladylike thing Zipp was good at, it was listening to rambling—whether it be a long scolding or the fiftieth speech of the day at the diplomat meeting—and staying just awake enough not to fall asleep and embarrass their family or business.
"Ugh, Zephyrina," she continued to mumble to herself. "Why have I got to make you be this way if you don't even want it? You act more like a boy than my two sons did. And I know how to raise boys. It would be so much easier if you were a boy."
Zipp suddenly looked up from the floor.
Do you want to act like a real lady or not?
She hurled the wooden helicopter at the floor, snapping it into pieces. She ran off to her room and shut the door. She sat in front of her vanity mirror, which she mainly used as a study desk cluttered with thick math books that loomed over the puny little makeup palettes. She pushed a stack of books away to see herself in the mirror. Her butt was hurting from sitting so much on the stool.
"Am I really a boy…?" she whispered to herself.
It would be so much easier.
"NO! No!" She shouted at the mirror.
She would do anything.
She was a lady, right? Right?
And ladies acted a certain way.
Yeah. Yes. That's what she would do. She would act a certain way. If it meant she would be a lady.
She unfolded the hem of the beautiful dress she had so carelessly ruined. She tried to iron out the deep creases with her hand. They did not settle.
Mrs. Tori announced her retirement after Pipp turned eleven. An informal hour-long reception was held in her honor in Royal Events Hall C4, ending with Pipp chasing after the retired nanny in tears. A year later, Zipp turned 12, which, by family tradition, was the appropriate age for a young lady to begin carrying out duties. Her first public engagement was to be a speech at the dedication ceremony for the Petunia Pavilion at the Zephyr Heights Botanic Gardens. Her team of aides had already marked it on her calendar for her.
Zipp grew her hair long, longer than her sister's, and styled it in the feminine styles dictated by the estate hairdressers. A delicate floral dress with petunias had been picked out for her to wear for her debut, and Zipp did not protest. And finally, there were no words spoken. Haven did not object. Zipp did not object. The public did not object. There was no more hushed gossip among the servants about Zipp trying to "change" into a male heir.
Zipp remembered one evening she walked out in her approved hairstyle, dolled up in delicate natural makeup, wearing her official casual dinner jacket with the regal standard embroidered on the front. Pipp briefly looked up from her phone and smiled to say hello.
"Good evening, Zephyrina," Haven said. "Won't you have a seat?"
And that was the end of it. There were no arguments about how a lady should behave. Just dinner. In peace. One and a half hours of styling her hair, an hour of fixing her makeup, another hour trying to zip the back of her dress…just for…peace.
Zipp had been dreading her royal debut night for a while. Two hours of stimulating conversation about aerodynamics with her tutor had devolved into two hours of sitting still on a cold, tightly padded "glow-up chair" while letting her face and hair be tickled with various implements.
"Hold still," the beautician said. A few brushes would tickle her face, and then she could move for a few minutes. An attendant would offer her some lavishly decorated canapes, each so finely presented that their prettiness seemed to cancel each other out, and together, it became a plate of gaudy, tasteless overindulgence.
But she sat there. Still.
"Hold still." More tickling. More alterations to her custom-designed dress.
Zipp wondered if this was what it felt like to sit in the boarding room.
Her butt was falling asleep. Then, the knock at the door woke it up.
"Zephyrina. You look beautiful."
The girl bowed a little, her foot slipping a few inches after stepping on one of those emerald ribbons. Even Zipp had to admit she looked beautiful. The professional makeup artist, designer outfit, and mane stylist all crafted the perfect look for her body proportions, facial structure, and skin colors. The ribbons around the hemline complemented the emerald streaks in her hair. Her eyes lifted with makeup to make her look more innocent. A logical mind like hers should appreciate the analytical thinking that went into creating her look.
"I'm happy for you, Zephyrina. You've really matured. That Mrs. Tori really taught you a few things when you were younger, hmm?"
"I…I suppose she did," Zipp said, covering her mouth as she chuckled.
They heard the overhead wire reels start to squeak.
"Well, it's showtime, dear." A quick peck on the cheek, then it was time to go.
How do you feel, Zephyrina?
That question was never asked.
The girl got off the chair and began to make her way across the stage, and she stood to a sea of applauding people. She was told to smile until the saliva on her teeth dried out. She read off the half-sheet of paper she was given. She had not prepared at all before. It took her no more than a minute. Everybody applauded again. The newspapers printed in the dozens of millions of Zipp's photos and a trite headline in stale ink: Crown Heiress Zephyrina makes royal debut in an elegant floral gown.
"Heiress Zephyrina looked like a regal, poised young royal today, in her first official engagement dedicating the new…" and the rest faded to gibberish.
There. Like that. She was a Lady. A Princess. An Heiress.
And she hated it.
"I see where your destain comes from," said Mario as he listened to Zipp's latest memory from her growing up.
"Yeah. I was not too fond of it. Everything."
"Well, if you hated it, why didn't you just tell your mother how you felt?" asked the boy.
"If you knew my mother, she wouldn't listen or just put it off to the side like one of her company tasks," responded Zipp as she let out a sigh she was holding in. "That's why I'm so against accepting that my future will be running the family business. I don't want to make it seem like I'm letting her down, but, like I said. This is a family business. As far as I can tell, it's been that way for generations. I just... I don't want to be that "black sheep" of my bloodline. You get me?"
"Yeah. I get it. I can't say I can relate to your feelings, but I understand where you're coming from," responded Mario. "So... what happened after that?"
"It's... not easy," said the girl.
Following her debut, Haven was surprisingly nice to her daughter that night. For Zipp, she felt like her mother was putting on a show for the cameras. Once the banquet was done, Zipp said goodnight to her mother as she headed to her room. Another legion of stylists was waiting at her wing of the mansion to undo the lace on the back of her dress carefully, lest she rips it apart—which she might have, considering she had survived four hours without pulling out the hanging thread that was tickling her side.
It was just before she went to undress, standing at the entrance to her secondary bedroom—her miniature lab—that she was faced with a familiar figure.
"Mrs. Tori!?"
"Zephyrina."
"I thought you retired."
"You know I wouldn't miss your royal debut, now would you?"
She looked back once to check for cameras or eavesdropping servants. "What's the matter? Mom told you to come back and make sure my posture was at the correct angle?"
"Now Zephyrina! It's nothing like that!"
"Then what?"
A long silence. Even in just a few years, she was noticeably more frail. Her breathing was heavy, even standing stationary on a smooth marble floor.
"How do you feel?"
Zipp frowned. "What?"
"I'm asking you a question. How do you feel?"
"I…" her learned courtesy tried to take over, but she was interrupted—much to her relief. It would have killed her to say "it was wonderful" for the fifth hour straight to mom's uncle, mom's uncle's boss, and her sister's cousin's friend, and so on.
Mrs. Tori sighed, her airway croaking. "I came to give you a little snack."
"If it's another 'cuisine a la frou-frou,' I'll be…" Zipp trailed off. At first confused. Then shocked. She gave Zipp an orange.
"Here you are, Zephyrina. Fresh from the garden."
Zipp peeled it and bit straight through the segments. She couldn't comprehend the avant-garde cuisine they had served at the banquet earlier that evening. She had the mental capacity to understand what béchamel sauce was and what crème anglaise was, but somehow, it slipped her mind quickly like the words were just a jumble of characters.
This orange made sense.
Zipp broke down in tears and leaned on Mrs. Tori.
"I can't do this, teach. I can't. Being a lady is too hard. I'm sick of always looking lovely, going to events, laughing below a certain volume…"
Mrs. Tori pat her on the back. "If you're not yourself, you become dead on the inside."
Zipp could feel a shell around her. Enveloping her body. Heavy. Stiff. With just a little crack where she could trace a thin trail of air to breathe.
"What…what am I?" she barely got out.
"You're you."
Zipp swallowed a lump. Squeezed the last bit of fear out of her eyelids.
"Well, back when you said it was easier if I were a boy…that hurt me a lot."
"You…you heard that?" Mrs. Tori gasped—then her face sunk into a knowing smile. "Of course you did. You were always such an observant girl, inquisitive. You could make a fine detective one day, I dare say."
"I just wanna like the things I like. Is that not enough?"
"As long as you are yourself, that's enough." Mrs. Tori sighed. "Look at you, you're…"
Zipp rolled her eyes and laughed. "Ha, you can say it. I look greaaaaat. I know. The stylists really worked their magic on me—how is this makeup still on me after I stuck my tongue out at the chocolate fountain and dunked my face into the hand-washing bowl thingy?"
"But how do you feel dear?"
"Oh, I feel awful," she said with no hesitation. "Wearing a princess dress from a fairy tale, and I feel awful. Some girl I am, am I right?"
She gave Zipp a firm pat on the head. "You forgot how to be yourself. And that's because I forgot how to be myself. I built my career at the Junior Speedsters Kindergarten, cultivating what would become some of the greatest minds in Zephyr Heights. That's why I was given the honor of being your nanny. But then I found myself…doing the opposite of what I had built my reputation out of. Look at you this evening. I got you to be exactly how a lady is 'supposed' to be. I did what Haven—your mother—asked of me as your nanny. But at what cost? To you? Or to me?" She let out a weary smile. "You're old enough to understand that, right? Zipp?"
"I was old enough to understand that a loooong time ago," Zipp quipped. They shared a quiet laugh.
Zipp could easily take a deep breath. Even if the makeup was still glued on her like tattoo ink, the perfume the beautician sprayed liberally in her mane had worn off.
"But what…won't Mom hate me?"
Yet another silent, weary smile from the nanny—like her mark of authentic disapproval rather than stern scolding. "I told her how you were responding to my lessons. And how, in my years of childcare experience, it's best to support a child's healthy interests—suppression only causes depression or rebellion later in life. But she wouldn't listen. 'I gave you one job, blah blah blah.' She was like that as a little girl, too, you know. She just cares so much about her company and her duty that she'd do anything or be anything to appease tradition."
Zipp let out a mischievous giggle.
"She gave the job to me, the supposed childrearing expert, but I'm no expert if I'm not allowed to do what I think is right. I can try talking to her again. But I think if you really want to change your mother, that will have to come from you. She'll listen to you. You look too much like your father for her not to listen."
Zipp wasn't quite sure what the older woman said but went along with it.
"But I…I love Mom." It felt unnatural coming out of her mouth as a self-proclaimed, rebellious 12-year-old girl, even if it was true. "Maybe she annoys me sometimes, but I don't want her to be sad either. If I'm not what she wants me to be, I'll…"
"Zeph—Zipp, I've raised three rich children, including your mother, you, and Pipp. Your sister loved my lessons, your mother even more. But out of all of you, believe me when I say you are the most fit to rule this company."
"But…I don't understand. But I don't want to be a princess. I don't want to be a heiress. I don't want to be a lady. I'm sick of…tea parties and painting and canned speeches—"
She grabbed Zipp by the shoulders with surprising force for a 70-year-old. "Then…tell them! Tell them what it means to be a lady. Redefine the word 'Lady'. That's what royals are so damn good at, am I right?"
The girl stepped away to toss the orange peels in the trash can.
"Whatever. We're cool."
Zipp hugged Mrs. Tori. Maybe to the untrained observer, it was Mrs. Tori who was proud of Zipp—proud for her scripted and choreographed royal debut. But Zipp felt even more proud for her governess, some 60 years her senior. She felt proud of her, for Mrs. Tori would at last live her truth—
For six months, then... Zipp laid flowers on her grave.
The girl recounted her final memory as the scene returned to the present. Zipp looked forward, unaware of a tear rolling down her face. Mario had been listening with great interest as he could tell that hearing the death of Zipp's nanny really resonated with the teenage girl. Zipp sniffed a bit as she wiped her tears with her wrist, trying to regain her cool composure.
"You good?" asked Mario as he placed a hand on Zipp's shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry, you had to see that," apologized Zipp for not acting like the tomboy she was.
"Don't apologize. Just... let it out," said the boy as he rubbed Zipp's shoulder to offer comfort and emotional support for her.
"I appreciate that. But, I'm good," said Zipp as she got rid of the last of her sniffles and tried to regain her cool image. "Thanks... that's uh, heh, that's twice I've let my feelings out to you. That must change your opinion about me, huh."
"Maybe... but I don't mind," said Mario as he stared at the girl in the eyes and smiled.
Zipp also smiled from hearing the boy's response as she placed her hand on his that rested on her shoulder. The girl looked into her friend's eyes as they stared; his smile and concern made Zipp feel something. A warm feeling in the pit of her stomach filled the girl with a sense of comfort and assurance that everything would be okay. The two teens kept their gaze on each other until a ringing was heard.
They turned to look forward as some of the students were starting to head back to school for their next set of classes.
"Guess my free period is over," said Mario, removing his hand from Zipp's shoulder and standing up. He grabbed his backpack to sling over his left shoulder as he prepared to head off.
"Hey!" called out Zipp as she stood up, Mario turning to look at the girl. "You uh, you free tomorrow? 'Cause there's this bowling alley I wanna check out. Figured it'd be a fun place for us. Sunny and the others agreed, just... wanted to ask if you and your sister wanted to tag along?"
"Bowling? I'm down," said Mario, liking the idea.
"Great. So, I'll shoot you a text later with the details. And uh, thanks for again, listening to my problems, lover boy," said Zipp, slightly sheepish.
"Anything for you, rich girl," responded Mario with a wink as he left.
Zipp turned slightly red at Mario, winking at her and how he responded; she quickly regained her composure and began to head back inside to avoid getting in trouble for cutting another class.
Author's Note: First off, I want to apologize to you guys. This chapter was meant to go out yesterday but work kept me busy for the whole day that I didn't have a chance to edit it. So again, apologies for makingyou all wait. On another note, we get to see a bit inot Zipp's past of how she became who she is today and the impact the person.