Cornelius and Bartholomew Darlington were not in the mood to deal with their parents on this fine Sunday, thank you very much. Instead they had both snuck out of the palace, on their own mind you, and had gone over to their only commoner friend: Andrew. Of course, the princes had an act of not being able to shut their mouths and Andrew was aware of their royal status. They had neglected to inform anyone that they had revealed their secret.

Luckily the commoner knew how to control his tongue.

“Pineapple on a pizza is a sin,” Bartholomew said distastefully as he gnawed at the sweet pizza.

“If you hate it so much, then why don’t you ban it when you’re King?” Andrew retorted, his mouth full from the greasy food.

“Because we won’t ever be King. Unless our sister is knocked off the throne or decides to leave herself, we won’t ever have the chance,” Bartholomew answered, reaching for another piece.

“But say it does happen: which one of you will then be the direct heir?” the commoner inquired, moving to check his phone for messages. Bartholomew answered by pointing his finger towards Cornelius, who was browsing through Andrew’s mother’s bookcase with a slice between his teeth. “Why?”

“Because he was the firstborn,” the way Bartholomew said it was as if he had come to terms with his inability to ever inherit the crown and had accepted it.

“Didn’t your mother have a C-section?” Andrew remembered being told.

“Yeah but they took me out first,” Cornelius answered, returning to sit next to his brother and friend.

“So it’s purely out of chance? That’s a bit unfair,” the twins agreed.

“But if something like that ever happens, we will deal with it. Most likely I will give up my claim to the throne. I do not think I will be able to handle something like that,” Cornelius said, a bit dazed as he chewed. Satisfied, he grabbed another slice. There was a comforting silence as they ended the topic in their minds.

“So, you guys wanted to talk to me about something?” in one swift movement, evil grins appeared on the twins simultaneously.

“Yeah, we have a plan,” Bartholomew began.

“It is a good one,”

“A very good one,”

“You will love it,”

“But it might get us in trouble,”

“But don’t worry about that,”

“We’ll handle it,” Andrew kept looking between the twins, speaking sequentially. He sighed deeply.

“Alright. What is that you’re planning?” they shared a look of mischief before turning to their fifteen year-old friend.

“We’re going to prank the Royal Palace!”

♕♥ ♕♥ ♕

“Absolutely amazing!” Caleb commented as he took shots of my figure, poised on brick steps in front of his college. Somewhere, somehow, he had gotten his hands on a black tutu and fake piercings. I did not have any natural piercings, so it felt strange to have extra weight on places that once were not covered. My ears felt like an elephant’s. “Now can you do a leap?” he asked me. I did the step about a dozen times before he got the shot he wanted and one which I was satisfied with. “What about a penché?” after two weeks of continues practice for the pas de deux, which Madame had yet to say for what, he caught up on some of the terms. It made my little princess heart flutter.

But it saddened me. With the extra practice and his photography deadline coming up, there was even less time which we got to spend with each other without any work involved.

But there has been strange things happening lately.

My parents refuse to meet my eye line anymore, knowing that I was upset about having to change my appearance. My brothers were nowhere to be seen, and a search party was sent out a week ago when they snuck out of their own accord and were gone for too long. Luckily Rodger, their bodyguard, knew exactly where they were. They had a friend, Andrew, and was occasionally at his house. My parents were furious with this, claiming that they better spend time on their performance which was coming up in ten weeks.

Caleb and Anna had become friends. Spending time at the studio had them introduced to each other and it turns out that Anna had once done modelling when she was younger. Caleb had recognized it and they had hit it off quite nicely. I was happy that Caleb was getting to know my dance mates, I just wished that I could integrate more into their conversations.

And then there was Sarina. I discovered that she worked the nightshift at the café, so whenever I went to get a smoothie after ballet, she would be there. She tried to spark up conversations, but I was usually with Caleb or Ian so she did not stay long. But she was a strange one. She convinced me to try a cookies and cream flavoured milkshake instead of my regular smoothie, and I admit it was quite good. She also, not so subtly but rather bluntly, dropped the hint that she was going to be performing at the Royal Variety Show.

After what I saw at the open class with her leap and her backflip, I was kind of excited to see what the gymnasts would come up with. From a dancer’s perspective, for someone to be able to be that flexible all the time was just an incredible thing. Sure you had to be flexible for dancing, but it more about technique and performance and quality. Gymnasts and acrobats just have to go for it and that is absolutely terrifying. There was so much more risk.

“Hey are you okay?” I looked up to see Caleb staring at me with concern. Sighing, I shook my head.

“I am exhausted. Can we call it a day?” for a second he seemed a little out of it, thinking about it before nodding. I went to get changed while he packed all of his equipment up. He got enough photos, didn’t he?

The car ride to the café was silent and awkward, the only sound being Caleb’s action of biting his nails. He was completely stressed out and probably needed to go unwind at a pub, but I was too young for that and I liked to think he took my needs into consideration. I was probably selfish by keeping him by my side.

I ordered a milkshake but he took caffeine, preparing for the long night ahead. He took out his laptop and downloaded the photos we took. We scrolled through them together.

“I like that one,” I stopped his scrolling. “It’s more creative and looks good with that sun flair,” I tried to assist him by complementing the photo.

“It looks unprofessional,” he stated bluntly before continuing to scroll. This kept happening: I would complement a photo and he would find something he did not like about it. We kept going around in circles, not able to discern the beautiful from the terrible anymore. Eventually he grew agitated and began pulling at his hair.

“This is hopeless! If we had taken a few more photos then there would’ve been a perfect one, I just know it!” the way he said it made it sound like he was accusing me. I did not take lightly to his passive aggressiveness.

“I am the one helping you so don’t get angry at me if you can’t take a good photo,” I had meant to play it off a joke, but he froze in shock and stared at me as if I was the devil. I regretted playing off his emotions immediately. His brows furrowed and his eyes grew cold. In one swift movement he slapped his laptop shut, threw it under his armpit and exited the booth.

“Find your own way home,” he said sternly and left without passing me so much as a glance. I sat there, completely horrified and what I had just said. Of what just occurred.

Was that our first fight?

It was not as loud or as long as I had expected, but this felt much worse. He just left me.

Even though we had known each other for years, our disputes were usually contained and solved within a minute of two. It was a lot of understanding between us. We have not had something like this before.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’m sure he’ll come round,” I turned to see Sarina standing there, looking genuinely worried. I scoffed, completely irritated with this entire thing.

How dare he?

I know he was agitated but he could of at least had used a more subtle tone with me. He knows I hate being loud and prefer to settle matters the old fashioned way: talking calmly.

But I wasn’t going to just let him get away. I said something I should not have and now I feel bad. I had to go and apologize. I quickly exited the booth and ran outside, hoping to catch him before he left. Just as I burst outside, I witnessed his car swivelling out of the parking lot. He just left me to stand here alone. Totally annoyed, I yelled out in frustration. I did not even care about the strange glances my way from those walking down the street. Those inside the café were more understanding of the rage, having seen Caleb walk out on me.

“Hey,” I turned to see Sarina stand at the entrance of the café, her hands in her pocket. “Let me buy you a drink,” I scoffed and shook my head, trying to calm my nerves.

“Make it a double,” smiling, Sarina slipped back into the café. I joined her soon after and went to sit at the counter bar. Sarina’s hand worked to make my milkshake, putting twice as much ice-cream in as usual. It confused me why she was avoiding to use her one hand. She slid the milkshake over to me, as if she was a bartender. I appreciated her gesture. As she passed it over, I grabbed her wrist before she left. Dazed, with an embarrassed rosy colour on her cheeks, Sarina took a step back towards me.

I turned her hand around, palm facing up. It surprised me the massive bruise on her hand, the hardened blood revealing its freshness. I looked up with utter concern.

“Who did this to you?” I asked in all honestly, but it confused me why she began laughing. She propelled herself onto the counter, sitting on top of it as she looked down at me.

“A very dangerous enemy by the name of ‘uneven bars’,” she said dramatically, waving her arms about as if she was attacked by the devil. I rolled my eyes at her antics, realizing after the very first day I met her that she was a bit freaky. She did a backflip off the roof, after all.

“What happened?” I pushed, but she shrugged as if it was nothing.

“My hand grip got a tear in it while I was practicing, so my skin went along with it. It’s no problem,” to her, these kind of injuries were probably usual. The injury that I receive rather frequently is when I fall off my pointes and injure my ankle. I now wear an ankle guard whenever I perform, but it is not really needed anymore. I strengthened my ankle until the point where even if I fell, I could control my landing. Still, I fancied having both my feet in optimal condition.

“You gymnasts really are working hard,” I said, more so to myself than to her. She smiled and nodded.

“Everyone is looking forward to the performance. It’s something… different, for us,” I can only imagine. She took a quick breath and changed the subject, heading to clean up the counter. “So what are you going to do about that crappy guy who just walked out?” groaning, I plunked my forehead against the counter. Sarina couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry for bringing it up,” I shook my head, my cheeks sweeping the counter.

“He is at a very stressful time in his life, and I did not exactly make it any better. I should not have said that,” Sarina remains quiet, wiping across the counter. “I’ll go see him Monday to apologize,”

“Why not tomorrow?”

“I think he also needs some time to cool down,” nodding, Sarina understood.

“Well, je suis vraiment désolé,” I heard her whisper to herself, surprising me. I looked up at her with question.

“You know French?” suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Sarina swayed on her feet and bit down onto her lip. She brought up her uninjured hand to make the hand sign for ‘a little’.

“Uhm, sort of. My dad tried to teach me but I never got farther than the basics. I’m not all that smart,” with that Sarina left to the back of the café to put away the rug which she used. She returned a few moments later, and by then I was finished with the milkshake. I took out money to pay but unsuspectedly, I felt Sarina’s hand clamp over mine.

“I told you I’d buy you a drink, didn’t I?” to illustrate, Sarina took out money from her own pocket and placed it in the cash register. I tried to argue but she gave me one of those looks that clearly stated not to argue. I knew that look well, mostly from my parents. Sighing, I thanked her for it and dealing with my distressed figure.

“No problem. Now off with you, pastel ballerina,” she said with a chuckle before moving to another customer. I left with a smile, not something you would expect after having a fight with your boyfriend of three years. Ian, who had seen Caleb walk out on me from the parking lot, questioned whether or not I was okay.

And, believe it or not, I kind of was.