The Princess & the Pauper Page 5

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  "No!" I screamed, completely drowned out by the cheering all around me.

  "Oh God! Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked, standing up.

  My eyes instantly filled with tears as I held my hands away from my soaked self. I could feel the warm liquid seeping through the fabric of my shirt, soaking my bra, and sticking to my skin.

  I'm so dead, my brain recited over and over, images of me as responsible work girl flitting through my mind and right out the window. I'm so dead I'm so dead I'm so dead.

  As Princess Carina continued to wave and bow and mouth her thank-yous to her adoring fans, I burst into frustrated tears and ran from the room.

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  ***

  Chapter 6

  "You know, sometimes I cannot believe the ridiculous things those speechwriters make me say," I blurted the second Ingrid and I were inside the sanctity of one of the ladies' rooms at Rosewood Academy. " 'We are the future'? I mean, who says that?"

  "You did," Ingrid said, her eyes teasing.

  "Thank you so much for your support," I said.

  "Oh, I was totally moved," Ingrid joked.

  I sighed and placed my purse on the dingy wooden countertop. I dug through it until I found my pressed powder and started to dab at my face. Why couldn't I just write my own speeches and say what I wanted to say? I was so sick of doing what everyone else expected me to do. And this was only one of many public appearances I was going to have to make while we were here. I already felt like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

  "What is it, four thousand degrees in this place?" I said, sweat prickling under my arms and along my hairline. "They could have at least turned on the air-conditioning for us."

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  "Okay, C, you're being cranky even for you," Ingrid said, leaning back against the wall. "What's the problem?"

  I took a deep breath and sighed again, dropping my makeup brush back into my bag. "The problem is, this is the first five seconds we've had without Killjoy right on top of us, and we're only getting it because that Weathers person won't stop talking her ear off. This trip is going to be nothing like I expected. And do you know what I found out this morning? The embassy ball is the exact same night as the Toadmuffin concert. There's no way I can skip out on the ball."

  "Yeah, Killjoy will definitely notice that," Ingrid said.

  I felt myself descending toward tears and took another long breath. I would not go there. I had to remain calm. Once I started stressing, I would get all blotchy, and that mess on top of the sweating would paint a totally unpretty picture.

  "I'm just going to have to accept it," I told her, my stomach turning. "There's no way I'm going to that concert."

  Ingrid exhaled a stream of smoke and looked at my reflection in the mirror. What I saw in her eyes made me want to cry even more. She didn't think it was possible, either. And once Ingrid started giving up, I knew I was really in trouble. It was so unfair. My first trip without my mother and I still wasn't going to get to do anything I wanted to do. Ribbit would be waiting for me all night long and he would never know how much I truly wanted to be there.

  Sometimes life really sucked.

  Suddenly there was a rustling of paper behind us and my heart hit my throat. I looked at the stall doors in the mirror, and one of them was closed. I'd never used a

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  public bathroom before an official security sweep in my life. It hadn't even occurred to me that someone might be in the room with us.

  Ingrid shot me a look, telling me not to move, and slowly crouched down to check under the doors.

  "Urn ... hello? Don't you know eavesdropping on a royal conversation is a federal offense?" Ingrid said, smirking wickedly at me.

  One of the doors swung open and out walked one of the sorriest-looking spectacles I'd ever seen--a girl of about my height with stringy brown hair, running mascara, and a huge brown stain on her blouse. She reminded me of Carrie at the end of that Stephen King movie after they've dumped the pig's blood on her. Okay, maybe not that bad, but still, it was the first image that came to mind.

  "Well, I was just leaving," the girl snapped, pulling in a noisy sniffle. She stuffed a wad of paper towels into the garbage can and glared at me. "Sorry the temperature wasn't to your liking, Your Highness," she said sarcastically as she swept past me.

  For a split second I couldn't even find my voice. I was fairly certain that it was the first time anyone other than Ingrid had dared to insult me. I wasn't sure whether to hate the odd little urchin or respect her.

  The girl started for the door, but Ingrid stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

  "What's your name?" Ingrid asked, looking the girl up and down. I raised my eyebrows at Ingrid. She had that look on her face that meant she was having a brainstorm, but I couldn't imagine what she was thinking. Did she

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  want to perform a charity makeover or something? I didn't think I had enough makeup in my bag for that. "Excuse me," the girl said flatly.

  "Interesting name," Ingrid said, scoffing a laugh. She stubbed out her cigarette on the top of the metal garbage can and smiled. "You know, I think I am the premiere criminal mastermind of the twenty-first century."

  "What are you talking about?" the girl asked. She turned to look at me. "Who is this girl, your royal wacko?"

  "I'm Ingrid," my friend told her, reaching out to shake the girl's hand.

  "Julia," she replied, still watching us like we had just escaped from an asylum. Instead of touching Ingrid, she took a step or two back.

  "Nice to meet you, Julia," Ingrid said. "And you've already met Her Highness, Carina."

  "Hello," I said with a nod. Then I shot Ingrid a look. What was going on in that devious little mind of hers?

  "You know, you two look a lot like each other," Ingrid said, circling Julia, then me, her hand on her chin.

  I had to work hard not to laugh. This girl was in serious need of a personal shopper. Not to mention a shower and some grooming lessons.

  "I don't think so, Ingrid," I said, zipping up my bag.

  "I'm so outta here," Julia said.

  "Wait!" Ingrid said, stopping the girl in her tracks. "Julia, just ... humor me for a second. Come here and stand next to Carina."

  "Ingrid, where are you going with this?" I asked impatiently. "I want to get out of here already."

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  "You know the little problem we've been discussing nonstop since we left the palace?" Ingrid said, staring at me meaningfully. "Well, we may have found the answer."

  I scrunched up my face in disbelief. How was this person going to help me rendezvous with the love of my life?

  "I don't like the sound of that," Julia said.

  "Come on, you know you're curious," Ingrid said. "All I want you to do is stand next to her. She doesn't have royal cooties."

  Julia looked at me and sighed, then trudged over and stood to my left. We stared at each other in the mirror, her face annoyed, mine skeptical. Our eyes were a similar shape and color and we were about the same height, but other than that...

  "Okay, now, visualize with me, people," Ingrid said, hovering next to Julia. "Add more makeup, a few highlights, and some zit cream. Then all you'd have to do is lose the split ends, the slouch, and the unibrow, and voila! You guys could be twins."

  Julia's face went white. "Did you people travel all the way from Vineland just to randomly insult Americans?" she snapped.

  "No, I--"

  But Julia wasn't waiting around any longer. She pushed past Ingrid and flung open the heavy bathroom door so hard it smashed up against the wall. Now that little temper tantrum? That looked familiar.

  "Wait!" Ingrid called out. "I didn't mean it as an insult! I just meant that with a little work ..."

  She followed Julia out into the hallway and I looked at

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  my reflection and sighed. I still had no idea what Ingrid was thinking, but whatever it was, it was clear that Julia person was not going to be a
willing participant. Which was fine with me. She had just a little too much attitude for my taste. And a little too little soap in her life, apparently. Oh, well, at least I had a moment to myself to-- "Carina?" Fröken Killroy's voice split the silence like a bullet. She pushed into the bathroom and sniffed the air. "Were you girls smoking in here?" Her mouth hung open in horror, causing her wattle to wiggle obscenely. So much for my alone time.

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  ***

  Chapter 7

  On the way home from school that afternoon, I pedaled so hard I thought my bike was going to shake apart. I'd had worse days--like the time I'd exploded a potato in the microwave, shorted out the whole building, and had angry people with souring milk yelling at my door in fifteen different languages--but this one was up there. I had planned on staying after school in the library and studying for my upcoming biology exam until it was time to leave for my interview. Now I had to get home, shower, find something to wear that looked semibusinesslike, and get myself down to the Take Five Lighting offices by five o'clock. All that and I had to look calm and poised and eager and happy when I got there.

  Maybe I should have talked to Carina for a few minutes longer. She could have given me some tips.

  But then again, ugh! Just thinking about those two girls made me pedal even faster. Where did they get off, picking on me like that? And they were such fakes! Carina didn't even believe a thing she'd said at that podium, and now the entire school was busy trying to

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  remember it word for word because it was so inspiring to them.

  If I never saw another princess again, I would die a happy girl.

  "Julia! Hey, Julia!"

  I slowed down a little bit, and my thighs burned from the sudden change in momentum. Without the wind from my speed I could feel the heat in my face as well. Who the hell had snapped me out of my adrenaline rush?

  "Over here!"

  I glanced across the street and saw none other than Ingrid herself, waving out the sunroof of a sleek black limo. Her whole torso was visible and she was grinning eagerly.

  I rolled my eyes and started pedaling again. What was wrong with that girl? I wondered if the king and queen of Vineland knew their daughter was hanging out with a complete nutjob.

  Suddenly I heard a screeching of tires and a few angry horn honks. I skidded to a stop and almost fell over. The limo completed an illegal U-ey across four lanes of traffic and pulled up next to me. The door popped open and Ingrid leaned out, releasing a blast of cool air from inside the car.

  "Come on, get in," she said.

  "Are you people crazy?" I blurted, trying to catch my breath. "You could have been killed! Is your driver on crack?"

  "Oh, B.B. does whatever we tell him to as long as the price is right," Ingrid said, waving her hand. I had to ask. "B.B.?"

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  "Buyable Bill," Ingrid said with a shrug. "We're thinking about making him drive us to Vegas. Wanna come?"

  She was definitely insane. "Later," I said, placing my feet on my pedals.

  "Julia, seriously," Ingrid said. "We have a little proposition for you, and I think you'll find it very interesting."

  I stood there for a moment, studying her face. I had to admit, I was curious. What did the princess of Vineland and her wacky friend want with me?

  "We'll give you a ride ho-ome ...," Ingrid wheedled.

  I looked up the street at the miles of hot road that lay ahead of me and realized that the mere breeze from the car had already chilled my ankles to a pleasant temperature. Plus I had never actually been in a limo before....

  "All right," I said finally, swinging my leg over my bike. "But I have to go straight home."

  "Yes!" Ingrid cheered. "B.B.! Put her bike in the back!"

  A tall, square-jawed man stepped out of the driver's side and swiftly removed my bicycle from my grasp. As he toted it over to the huge trunk, I ducked into the limo and sank into the plush velvet seat. Carina sat across from me, her legs crossed at the ankle and her hands folded around her knee. Her panty hose shimmered as if they were made out of real silk. I crossed my ankles as well, to hide the stretched-out fabric of my tights that had gathered there in massive rolls.

  Ingrid slammed the door and sat back next to me. "Do you want to tell her or should I?" she asked Carina.

  "I will," Carina said, her eyes flicking over me as the driver returned to his place behind the wheel. The way she did it made me feel about one inch tall. "But first, I'm

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  hungry. Let's get something to eat. B.B.! I have a sushi craving. "

  "I know just the place, miss," B.B. said, starting up the engine. He picked up a cell phone and started to dial.

  My stomach lurched as the limo pulled out into traffic. "But I have to go home," I said, glancing at my watch. "I have a job interview at five."

  "Really? A working girl?" Ingrid said, giving me a fake-impressed frown. The girl had probably never worked on anything other than her abs. "Don't worry. We'll get you there."

  Before I knew it, we were zipping up Wilshire Boulevard with some punk band I'd never heard before pounding through the speakers. Carina and Ingrid sang along with the lyrics, laughing as I stared out the window, feeling like I was being kidnapped. Hadn't these girls heard a word I'd said? I was in a time crunch here! But then, why would they bother listening to me? I was sure regular people were about as important to them as their royal nail clippings.

  The limo pulled to a stop in front of Asakuma, an upscale sushi restaurant that Elizabeth's family ordered takeout from every Friday night. I'd been invited to a couple of their dinners and the food was amazing, but I'd never actually been in the restaurant before.

  Ingrid and Carina climbed out of the limo the second B.B. opened the door, but I hesitated, looking down at my stained shirt.

  "Oh! You can't go in there like that!" Carina said, causing my face to flush. "B.B., open the trunk."

  The chauffeur did as he was told and I felt my jaw clench. The girl didn't even say please. How could anyone just take orders like that?

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  "Stay there a moment. We went shopping this morning," Carina told me before disappearing behind the car. She came back with a light blue sweater and tossed it at me. "Here. Wear this."

  I was about to protest when I felt the fabric beneath my fingers. It was the softest thing I'd ever touched. Cashmere. It had to be.

  "I can't take--"

  "Whatever," Carina said. "I bought two."

  The car door slammed, leaving me alone inside, and I checked the tag. Sure enough, the sweater was 100 percent cashmere. And according to the still-attached price, it cost $500.

  I stopped breathing. Her clothes really could pay the rent. My hands shaking, I unbuttoned the dirty blouse, folded it up, and put it in my bag, then pulled the soft sweater over my head. It was like wrapping myself up in a billion cotton balls. Only better. I tucked the price tag inside the neckline and stepped out of the car.

  "Better already," Ingrid said.

  I glared at her.

  "I mean, you look beautiful!" she corrected herself.

  The moment we walked into the restaurant, a man in a suit stepped forward, all smiles, and held out his hand. "Princess Carina, what an honor to meet you!" he said. Carina placed her hand in his and he grasped it for a moment. "Your driver called ahead and requested a private room. I'm happy to say we can accommodate you. Just follow me."

  "Thank you," Carina replied.

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  The man led us through a restaurant full of late lunchers in business suits and designer jeans. Cell phones rang, chopsticks clicked against dishes, and the conversation was hushed. He opened the door to a small room in the back corner, decorated with Japanese scrolls and puffy velvet pillows in maroons and purples. Carina slipped out of her shoes and sat down at the head of a table that rested on the floor. Ingrid and I did the same.

  "Our friend is in a bit of a hurry, so we'll see the menu right away," Carina told the maitre d
'. She looked at her glass, grimaced, and held it out to him. As far as I could tell, nothing was wrong with it. "And I'll have a fresh glass," she added dismissively. "A clean one."

  "Of course," the maitre d' said. "Please forgive me."

  Once again, no "please" from Carina. My mother would have said this girl was raised in a barn, not a palace.

  "Now, on to our little proposition," Carina said, turning to me. "This may be the only meal I get to eat away from my watchdog Fröken. Luckily that little school of yours needed her to deal with some legal paperwork. So if we're going to make a deal, it's got to be now."

  "Oooookay," I said. What was she talking about, a deal? And what in the world was a watchdog fröken?

  The waiter appeared with menus and placed three heaping plates of dumplings on the table. "Appetizers with the chef's compliments," he said. He placed a fresh glass of water next to Carina's plate and bowed before scurrying away.

  Carina and Ingrid didn't even blink. They just started eating. All I could do was wonder why restaurants gave free food to people who could more than afford it when

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  there were people who had to scrape together food stamps to keep themselves in mac and cheese. "Have one," Ingrid said.

  "Not hungry, suddenly," I replied. "So what's this deal thing?" I asked. "I kind of have someplace to be."

  Carina finished chewing, swallowed, sipped at her water, then spoke. "I want you to impersonate me, just for one day, so that I can go to a concert. You know. Kind of like in that movie Dave?"

  I had no clue what she was talking about.

  "It was my idea," Ingrid said proudly.

  There was a moment of silence as I looked from Carina to Ingrid, then back again. Then I cracked up laughing.

  "You guys are on something!" I said, reaching for my water.

  "This is serious," Carina said curtly. "I need to go to this concert."

  "So go," I said. "Who's stopping you?" From what I'd seen so far, this girl could do pretty much whatever she wanted.

  "Everyone! Everyone is stopping me!" she blurted, sounding like a toddler. I would have laughed if it wasn't so blatantly obvious that she was really upset.