The Princess & the Pauper Page 10

  Crazy Dave had started his van, and it was rattling behind me. I turned around and looked at him through the dirty windshield. He smiled and I clenched my jaw, determined.

  "Change your mind?" he asked, leaning out his window.

  I sighed. "I have no choice, I guess."

  "That's what my mother said when the police took me back home," Crazy Dave said. "Get in." He opened the passenger door again.

  I just stood there. I had always wondered what it would be like to ride in the front seat of a car, but I'd always thought it would be in a Porsche convertible or a nice Mercedes. You know ... something in leather. This seat was made out of vinyl and there was a split down the center that was hemorrhaging foam, although someone had tried to duct-tape it. Another disturbing detail. In the movies they were always using duct tape to cover people's mouths when they were kidnapped.

  Don't be such a spoiled brat, I told myself. You should be happy you have someone to drive you to this concert. And you wanted to be normal, right?

  I closed my eyes, braced myself, and stepped into the van. Crazy Dave hit the gas so fast, the door slammed shut and I was flattened against the back of the seat.

  "Where's the seat belt?" I demanded.

  He shrugged. "It's a long story. One day last summer I was cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway, listening

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  to some righteous White Stripes tunes, and what happened was ..."

  He spaced out for a second, oddly reminding me of Heinrich the Lisper.

  "Actually," he said thoughtfully. "I don't think it had seat belts when I bought it."

  "What if we have a wreck?"

  He lurched into traffic to a chorus of honks. "That's crazy talk," he said. "I've been crash-free for at least three weeks."

  I gripped the armrest and started silently praying as he stepped on the gas again. Maybe being a normal girl wasn't going to be quite what I had imagined.

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  ***

  Chapter 16

  That afternoon was a dizzying swirl. Carina and Ingrid had told me I would be visiting a hospital before the ball, but a few things had been added to the princess's schedule. I ended up having lunch with the mayor of Los Angeles and taking a tour of Bel Aire that included the country club half the girls in my school belonged to. All the while I was being snapped at by Fröken Killjoy to stand up straight and speak with more authority and stop fidgeting with my hair. I was having a hard enough time pulling off the Carina act without her watching every move I made.

  And if that wasn't bad enough, we were accompanied by an official Vineland reporter and trailed by at least ten American journalists and photographers. Everywhere I went, people were asking me questions and taking my picture. Even Carina's two bodyguards, Daryl and Theodore, couldn't fend them all off.

  By the time we got to the last stop before the hospital, I had a million flashbulb shadows flitting before my eyes, my throat was dry from talking, and my back was killing me from standing up so straight.

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  "Where are we now?" I asked Ingrid, squinting to see better as we climbed the steps to a dark, serious-looking building.

  "It's some old mission," Ingrid replied. "I think you're meeting a Buddhist priest."

  "All righty, then," I said as we walked into the cool, quiet building. What did a Vinelandish princess say to a Buddhist priest, anyway? It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

  It turned out that the Buddhist priest was in L.A. to lobby for better aid to the children of Bangladesh. I averted my eyes when I shook his hand. He seemed like such a wise, holy man. Could he look at me and tell I was an impostor?

  "I appreciate all the aid Vineland has given to poor children all over the world," he said in a beautiful accent. "Your country has made the lives of hundreds of thousands of children so much better. We cannot thank you enough."

  He was still gently shaking my hand, and suddenly I realized it was my turn to talk.

  "I speak for my country," I began, amazed at the voice coming out of my mouth--the voice of a princess, "when I say that we are inspired by your efforts to help the children of the world. Children are our future, and we must continue to work together to help improve their lives."

  About a million flashes went off, blinding me from all directions. I said good-bye to the priest and seconds later we were ushered out of the monastery and into the waiting limo.

  "Can't we issue a royal order banning photographers or something?" I asked, shutting my eyes against the purple and red squares floating across my vision.

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  "You were great!" Ingrid said, grinning. "You're so natural!"

  I glared at her. "I can't believe I just lied to a Buddhist priest," I said. "I am definitely going to hell for all eternity."

  Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

  B.B. pulled the limo out into traffic, and on the way to the hospital Ingrid coached me again on how to act once we arrived. I was to listen to everything the doctors told me with a concerned expression and nod as much as possible.

  "Carina's pretty good with sick kids, but you don't have to touch any of them if you don't want to," Ingrid said casually when we stopped in front of the hospital.

  "What are you, the Tin Man?" I asked.

  Ingrid just looked at me blankly.

  "You know, The Wizard of Oz? He doesn't have a heart?" I prompted.

  "Thanks a lot," Ingrid said lightly. She was the kind of person who is never insulted by insults. "I'm not as up on the old movies as Carina is."

  The door to the limo swung open and Killjoy stuck her head inside.

  "Girls!" she snapped, causing my pulse to skyrocket. This woman made me more tense with one word than every teacher, boss, and landlord I'd ever had. Combined. "Let's get going. We're already behind schedule."

  "We're sorry, Fröken Killjoy," I answered, picking up Carina's purse and stepping out of the car.

  The woman drew herself up to her full height, her eyes widening with fury. "What did you call me?"

  Oh God. What had I done now? "Uh ... ," I faltered. "Fröken. Kill--"

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  Ingrid jumped out of the car and smacked my arm. I snapped my mouth shut.

  The woman narrowed her eyes at us, then turned and marched toward the hospital. She had the step of the German soldiers I'd seen in old films in history class.

  "Isn't that her name?" I whispered to Ingrid.

  "No," she whispered back. "It's Killroy."

  "Thanks for telling me," I said, taking a deep breath.

  This was going to be a really long night.

  We walked into the lobby of the hospital and were greeted by a tall, balding man wearing a white lab coat over a shirt and tie.

  "Princess Carina, I'm Doctor Fielding, the chief resident in the children's ward," he said, reaching for my hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

  I was about to shake hands with him as I normally would, but then I remembered what Carina had taught me and held out my hand, palm down. He hesitated a moment before grasping my fingers, and I just felt like a total poseur. My simple method of handshaking had thrown this man who spent every day helping sick kids. I wanted to disappear right then and there.

  "The honor is all mine," I said, trying to convey the truth of it with my eyes.

  He smiled, and I knew he was comfortable again.

  Dr. Fielding took us up to the children's ward, where he introduced me to the kids in the playroom. Most of them had degenerative diseases, and he said a few might never leave the hospital. Just looking at their open, tired faces somehow exhausted me.

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  "Does Carina visit a lot of hospitals?" I asked Ingrid under my breath.

  "Like every other day," she replied.

  Wow. Maybe being a princess wasn't all parties and shopping and whirlwind vacations. I noticed a little girl sulking in the corner, playing halfheartedly with a Barbie, and walked up to her.

  "Hi," I said. "What's your name?"
r />   "Lea," she replied quickly. She was wearing a San Francisco Giants hat over her bald head.

  "Pretty name," I said. It was the only thing I could think to say.

  "Lea is in the hospital for radiation therapy," Dr. Fielding said, stepping up next to me. "She likes to mess with the nurses--always pushing the button on her bed to call them."

  "Well, that's what the button's for!" Lea said, lifting her little chin.

  Dr. Fielding laughed. "Got me there."

  "Are you really a princess?" Lea asked me, narrowing her eyes skeptically.

  "Yes, I am," I told her, crouching to the floor.

  "Then where's your crown?" she asked, touching my forehead with her fingertip.

  "I didn't bring it with me, but I have it down in the car," I said. Then I had an idea, but I wasn't sure if I could pull it off. It would actually involve giving an order, the idea of which made me cringe. Still, I had a feeling I had a way to cheer the little girl up.

  "Daryl?" I said, turning to the security guard, who had

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  accompanied us into the hospital. "Would you go down to the car and get my crown? I'd like to prove to this little girl that I really am a princess."

  "Yes, miss," Daryl said with a little bow. Then he disappeared.

  It was almost too easy.

  A few minutes later Daryl returned with the black box they transported Carina's tiara in. He placed the box on the little plastic table that was covered with crayons and drawings. I popped open the latches and there was the crown, sitting in a bed of purple velvet.

  Lea's whole face lit up. "Whoa!" she said.

  "Do you want to try it on?" I asked.

  "Really?" she replied.

  "You can wear my hat if I can wear yours," I said.

  She ripped off the baseball cap and tossed it at me like it was a rag. Everyone laughed. I pulled it down over my newly blond hair, then lifted the tiara and placed it on Lea's head. Her eyes rolled up, trying to see it.

  "Here you go," Dr. Fielding said, lifting a small, heart-shaped mirror off the wall.

  Lea took one look at her reflection and grinned. She turned her head from side to side and touched the sparkling stones.

  "You look better than me," I told her as flashes popped all around us.

  I stood up and we all watched as Lea gave the other girls in the room a turn with the crown. I wasn't sure if Carina would have done the same thing, but I had a feeling I had done the right thing.

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  "She hasn't looked at herself in a mirror since her hair started thinning," Dr. Fielding told me quietly. "They told me you had a real way with kids. Looks like they were right."

  "Thank you," I said as Lea did a little spin, showing off for her audience.

  I was starting to think that even the hospital visit part of being a princess wasn't so bad. In fact, it was just as amazing as the clothes and the makeup and the jewelry and the hair.

  It was just a whole different kind of amazing.

  On the way home I couldn't stop thinking about those kids. How was I supposed to be all happy-go-lucky and ballworthy after that? I sat in the back of the limo with the tiara in my lap, staring out the window as we drove back to the posh Beverly Hills hotel Carina and Ingrid were staying in.

  "You're so much like her it's scary," Ingrid said suddenly.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Whenever we do one of these hospital runs, she's all quiet and moody afterward," Ingrid said with a shrug.

  "Seriously?" I asked. "I would think she'd tell B.B. to drive her straight to Rodeo." I felt uncharitable and icky the second I said it.

  "You think she's a complete snob, don't you?" Ingrid asked.

  "No!" I answered automatically. Ingrid lowered her chin and leveled me with a dubious stare. "I mean ... well ... she doesn't seem to realize what she has, you know?" I racked my brain for a way to say what I was thinking without insulting her best friend. "The way she

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  was tossing aside all those clothes those designers had sent her the other day? One of those dresses is worth more than my tuition. Seriously."

  "Yeah, but that's the way her world has always been," Ingrid said. "Do you know she had to sneak her first pair of jeans into the palace? And her parents don't even let her wear them outside her bedroom just in case a reporter happens to be in the house for some reason."

  "So? Who cares about jeans when you can wear whatever else you want?" I asked.

  "Trust me. If you couldn't wear jeans, you'd miss them."

  "Okay, fine, but does she have to order people around all the time?" I asked. "She doesn't even say 'please.'"

  "You didn't either when you asked Daryl to go get Carina's tiara," Ingrid countered.

  I flushed. I had said "please," hadn't I?

  "See? It came naturally to you within one day of people following you around and catering to your every wish," Ingrid said. "But you have to understand her life. You were bothered by the reporters and their stupid cameras within one hour. Imagine if you had a posse like that following you around all the time. And whenever she leaves the palace grounds, there are more reporters hiding in the bushes. She can't go anywhere or do anything without being tracked."

  I sat back in my seat and took a deep breath. Okay. So having your every move watched would definitely be less than convenient. And between Fröken Killjoy and Daryl and Theodore and the reporters and, yes, even Ingrid, I hadn't had a moment to myself for the last four hours. I

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  couldn't imagine what it would be like every single day.

  No wonder Carina was dying for an afternoon masquerading as a normal, denim-wearing, entourage-free human being.

  "All right, so it sucks to be a princess," I said, half resigned and half sarcastic. "But I still can't wait to put on that ball gown tonight."

  Ingrid leaned across the car and put her hand on my knee with a mock-serious expression on her face. "That doesn't make you a bad person."

  We both laughed as the car pulled up in front of the hotel. I felt a little thrill of warmth rush through me. All that was left to do was get ready for the ball. And as worried as I was that I might mess up that night, I had to admit that I was psyched. I was about to have my one and only Cinderella experience.

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  ***

  Chapter 17

  Walking into the embassy was like walking into a fairy tale. And not the creepy kind where someone gets eaten by a wolf. Everything and everyone in the building seemed to gleam. The walls were covered with thick wine-colored velvet drapery, and every gold and brass fixture shone in the twinkling lights of the huge chandeliers. The women were dripping with jewelry, and their gowns put the red carpet at the Oscars to shame. The guests sipped from sparkling champagne glasses, and a five-piece orchestra played classical music just loud enough to be heard over the hushed conversation. It took me a moment to rearrange my expression from one of total amazement to calm indifference. I just hoped no one had noticed my mouth hanging open before I had the chance to correct it.

  "Oh! Here comes the duchess of Thames," Ingrid said under her breath as a huge woman with cleavage everywhere rapidly approached us. "Ask her how dear, sweet Muffy is."

  My heart thunked, anticipating my first real test. "Princess Carina!" the woman said, her strong perfume

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  filling my nostrils. "What a pleasure to see you again." She bowed slightly and then took both my hands in hers. "I trust your parents are well."

  "Yes, thank you," I replied, glancing at Ingrid. "And how is dear ... sweet... Muffy?" I tilted my head slightly the way Carina did when she asked a question.

  The duchess turned pink with pleasure. "Oh, what a dear you are, remembering my poor little dog!" she said. "I'm afraid she has a bit of the arthritis, but she's otherwise fine." She smiled, seeming truly touched by my question. "Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure you have hundreds of people waiting for you."

  Hundreds? I thought, swallowing h
ard and hoping my sudden spike in body heat wasn't visible anywhere on my body. I have to do this hundreds of times?

  "Thank you," I told the duchess. "It was nice to see you again."

  Ingrid hooked her arm through mine and led me across the room. "That was perfect," she said. "You might not need me after all."

  "If you leave me, I'll kill you," I replied. Ingrid laughed and whacked me on the back--hard.

  "You're stuck with me for the night. Don't worry."

  Fröken Killroy stood across the room, talking with a distinguished-looking man in a tuxedo. She laughed and brought her hand to her chest, and I suddenly realized she was actually flirting with the man. Well, that was good. Maybe he would keep her occupied all night. I was less concerned about messing up in front of random dignitaries than I was about messing up in front of her.

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  A few people came up to Ingrid and me and introduced themselves, and a waiter offered us champagne, which Ingrid grabbed and I quickly refused. Obviously I needed to keep my head clear.

  Finally the two double doors next to us opened and a waiter in a white tux stepped into the room. "Ladies and gentlemen! Dinner is now served!" he announced.

  "Perfect," Ingrid said as the crowd started to move toward the doors. "Now you'll just have to make small talk with the people at our table for a while."

  "And remember which forks to use when and to keep my elbows off the table and sit up straight and blah, blah, blah," I said.

  Ingrid smirked at me. "A princess never says 'blah.'"

  Somehow I made it through dinner with no major disasters. Probably because I barely ate a thing. The first course was some kind of fancy avocado crab salad that I couldn't eat because I was allergic to avocados. But I was glad about that because it was arranged in such a complex tower that I had no idea how to start trying to politely pick it apart. Then came the escargot, which you couldn't have paid me to eat. Ironic, considering I was technically getting paid to eat it, but oh, well.

  I had a little bit of my filet mignon, but I bit into a piece of fat and it took me way too long to get up the guts to secretly spit it into my napkin. After that, I was too nervous to eat anything else.

  At least the people at our table were easy to talk to. We were sitting with the duke and duchess of Neandar and