Young Writers Society

I arose to the sun shining down on me. Sitting up, I rub my bleary eyes, attempting to rub the gunk from my eyes. Nicoletta is already up, ready to start the day as always. It aggravates me how early she gets up. She neatly makes her bed, throwing a pillow my way. I catch it midair.

"Get up," she tells me.

"Rather snippy this morning," I tell her.

"Rather slow," she shoots back. "Get dressed, Cassie."

I go to my closet before I realize a dress is on my bed. I find it unbearable when my mother picks out my clothes for me. She does it rarely, so today must be a big day.

I go into the bathroom and undress. "Big day?"

"How could you forget?" my sister screeches from outside. I jump at the hysteria in her voice. "You and Alex are announcing your relationship."

Oh, I think. I had forgotten about that. No, no, I hadn't. I had blocked it out of my mind. There's no way of getting out of this. I can't fake being sick because Mom doesn't believe it anymore.

The last time I attempted to fake an illness was for an interview. I had put powder on my face to look pale. I adjusted the heat so I could sweat and look feverish. When mother walked in, I almost got away with it. She said it would be rescheduled and then went to kiss my cheek.

I think that's where it went wrong. My mother frowned deeply and touched her lip. Then, my mother wiped a hand across my forehead, powder sticking to her fingers. I got the silent treatment the rest of the day. I never did it again.

"Perfect," I call back. "Just what I want on a Friday."

"Come out so I can do your hair," she tells me. I put on the dress and stare at myself in the mirror. I smile a little.

The dress is light blue, the color of the sky on a nice day. It's floor-length. The bodice of the dress has short sleeves and jewels lining it. The skirt is lacey and flows when I move. The shoes are white heels which I foolishly walk in. I stumble from the bathroom and collapse on the stool.

"Goodness, do you brush your hair at night?" my sister demands as she combs through my hair. She's nearly ripping it out.

"Ow! Gently!" I cry. She tries to be gentler, brushing out the tangles.

We sit in silence as she does her work. My sister rarely does my hair. The maids usually take care of it. Or, I brush through it once and call it a day.

"I know you saw him last night," she says, a tremor of disgust in her voice. I know who she is referring to.

"I don't feel like talking about it," I reply, staring at her in the mirror. She looks back.

"What did you say to him? Is he still trying to pursue you?" she asks. Now I know why she's in such a bad mood.

"I told him...I couldn't," I reply, beginning to do my makeup. She takes two small sections of my hair in the front and starts to braid them. She ties them in the back and pins tiny, white daisies on them.

"Oh," is all she utters. I want to slap her. It isn't her business who I talk to. It's none of her concern. But, I know she means well. She is always looking out for me, that one.

"Mom wanted you to wear this," she says after she finishes with my hair. It's a tiara. That is my mother, Queen of Being Conspicuous. 

I slip it on and stand up. "Too much?"

"Always," she giggled. I hug her tightly. "I like this as much as you do, Cassie. Don't be nervous. I know you'll look beautiful up there."

"Thanks, little sister," I kiss her cheek and make my way to the palace steps. That's where all the big announcements are declared. I have no idea why. It should be in a more formal spot. But that's where everyone can gather, I suppose.

I meet Alexander in the foyer. He's clad in a black suit with a light blue tie, matching my color. In his lapel is a white daisy. He looks dashing but anxious, as I am. I smile at him, hoping to mask my nerves.

"Look at you," he comments. "You look pretty, Cassandra."

"Thank you," I answer.

He bows, I curtsy. I slip my arm through the crook of his. We both breathe out a sigh, glad to be next to each other. My father and mother greet our people. My parents can drone on about anything for what seems like centuries. 

The double doors fly open, signaling our grand entrance. I suck in a breath, plaster on the fakest smile in the world, and walk out with my beau.

I adjust my microphone and follow the words on the screen, only visible to us, "Welcome, all, thank you for joining us today on this exciting moment in our little lives."

I inwardly gag at the words. Little lives? Who came up with that one, a five-year-old? If you want to lie for us, make it truthful.

"Princess Cassandra and I are happy to announce our engagement," Alexander continues, a broad smile on his face. Yes, I think, our engagement. Even though we only met a month ago!

The crowd cheers. Don't get too excited. I'm underage, not ready to be Queen yet. I'm only 17, can't throw my life away too soon. But, we need to prepare the people a year in advance.

The cameras. They shine in my face, blinding me. I want to scream. They have no right to see the little part of me left. But, I make small talk, answering questions. Alexander is better at this than me. He cracks jokes, compliments me, and gushes about how happy he is to be with me. Isn't everyone a good liar?

I see him, not in the crowd, but his parents are with my parents. Prince Hunter stares at me. He comes to join our little posse.

"Congratulations," he says to us. I can't thank him. I don't look his way. 

"Thank you, Prince Hunter," Alex shakes his hand. I sense the awkward tension. Alexander doesn't know about Hunter and me, but he does know about Hunter and his pranks.

"Good of you to come," I force out.

"Will you be in the wedding, Prince Hunter?" asks a reporter, shoving a microphone in the boy's face.

"I will make an appearance, yes," Hunter laughs. I can't imagine what this could mean. He could interject, play a prank, or show up. All of them would be bad.

Alexander and I walk inside, followed by our families.

"That wasn't so bad," Alex tries to lighten the mood. "You alright, Cassandra?"

"Of course," I lie. "Of course, I am."