6th ♕

"Mom, talk to me." I cornered her in the kitchen. Our kitchen was five steps wide, which made it easier for me to just spread around my legs and block the path. Today was the day of the final interview. I was scared as hell, and it would be a lot easier for me to go there with a light heart, and not with her hating me.

She sighed. "Okay, I'm talking now. Are you happy?"

"I'm sorry that this is happening," I said.

"Why are you doing this, George? Is not like you want to," Mom no. 2 told me. "Everybody keeps on saying how you're not going to win this. There's no way you're going to be the next princess. They even bet at work!"

"I don't even know what happened. But after getting into the top ten, I don't want give up just because they told me that I can't do it."

"You're so hardheaded. You know you don't want this," Mom no. 2 pointed out.

"I know. I don't like staying up late at night to put on all those lotions that Lenora told me to use. I hated it when they made me stand still or walk with a book over my head. I felt like the book would squeeze inside my head and I'd die because it was in there," I said, while reenacting the things that Lenora and her team made me do. "But since I'm doing all this, it's also because I want to give it a try."

"No, you don't."

"I've made it to the top ten, so who knows? Maybe the panel will be insane today. Plus the shelter can only give me one shift a week. There's no other job I could think of," I confessed.

And I had made a deal with Victhur Arzen.

"But a job in the palace? And it's not just a job. Let's say, something crazy happens, you get chosen, and you're up to be the next princess. Then, is that it? Is that the life you wanted? Cozying smiles and dressing up like a paper doll all your life?" Mom no. 2 was getting even more worked up.

"I don't know."

"You have to know what you want. If you go along with this, your whole life will change before you realize it."

"Mom, I just want to live at this moment, and this is me living. This is me doing what I should do for today. I don't know what's in tomorrow. But if I'm doing my best right now, maybe, just maybe tomorrow will be kind to me."

"But you're doing this against your will," Mom no. 2 argued.

"Maybe yes, since I don't like 99% of it. But the remaining 1% is like a haunting cry. It keeps on telling me to go. And for the record, my life never went right. I'll try going wrong this time."

"You're insane."

"I'm your daughter, what can I say? But insane as it is, can you please cheer me on?" I asked her. She went silent. "I could really use some comforting words. Like, maybe I still have someone I can go home to if this day will turn out to be the greatest humiliation of my life. I'm planning to wear an overall jeans."

"Of course you can come back here," she said, her voice softening. "And don't you dare wear anything like that."

"How about your blazer?"

"Not that one! You're seventeen. Wear something suitable for girls your age," she told me.

"Hmm... I'm still in the middle of thinking what exactly girls around my age should wear. Did you know that one girl wore neon lights to the first interview?"

"Neon lights? Did she glow?"

"Totally."

"That's weird. You should wear something normal. Did you already get your pick?"

"Yeah, I did. But Lenora had her personal and much powerful opinion. We'll be meeting in her bus at nine," I said, looking at the clock.

"A bus?"

"She has one of those. It's pretty neat. She carries around all her dresses, shoes, and makeup in there. There were even sofas and vanity tables inside."

"Well, that's expected. Lenora is quite a famous designer."

"And the royals, Mom, they're not bad," I told her.

"If you decide to be one, then I'll change my opinion about them," Mom no. 2 replied, looking at my shirt. "Are you going out? Are you sure you're wearing the right clothes? Reporters are following you."

I shrugged. "I don't really feel like wearing a dress at seven in the morning."

"Do your best today," Mom no. 2 finally cheered me on.

I forced a smile. "Hope that would be good enough for them."

♔~♕

It was a nice jog to the shelter. I saw a few reporters following me around. For the past three days, they'd been a constant part of my life. According to Pete—because I still refused to watch TV to save energy—the reporters had all concluded that I was currently the most interesting contestant of this search.

Sometimes, it felt like I was here for their amusement more than anything.

I kept the set of keys that Pete had lent me during the day of the first interview. I used this to go in and out of the shelter any time of the day. Since it was still early, nobody was around. The shelter's walls were high enough to prevent the reporters from getting in or taking pictures. Plus, there were many dogs that would announce their presence if spotted.

My favorite was Dog. He was my dog, even if I couldn't take him home yet. There was only a limited space to our house, and we couldn't really keep a pet.

It was more than a year ago when Dog was brought to the shelter. He was only a puppy at that time and some teenagers had spray-painted him. When I saw the poor guy, I wanted to hunt down those freaks that did that to him. But after several days of not being able to pinpoint the perpetrators, I just filed a report.

I probably got attached to him because of that. Most of the paint had already worn off. There was still some on his belly, but they'd fade away over time, too. However, Dog was still afraid of the sound of clacking spray paint even now.

"Dog, I got in," I told him, sitting on my heels. He happily wagged his tail and greeted me. Patting his head, I said, "Pete's mom gave me a lot of clothes. I will wear one later. My schedule is eleven, and I still have five more hours."

As I was playing with Dog, I heard a small crying sound. Getting up, I walked around the kennel, and I saw a little puppy trying to squeeze his way out. I helped him get back. His belly was stout, so there was no way he would get out of the kennel.

This little one was adopted together with his mother. But since his mother was badly hurt when a truck had hit her last week, she was scheduled to be euthanized. It was something I was deeply against, but the shelter was always full. Even with the adoption program, there were still so many of them. Old man said that it left us with no choice.

The puppy tried to squeeze his way out again. If only we had a bigger shelter and better funds, maybe this kind of thing didn't have to happen. Things like this made me feel like my heart was getting squeezed into pieces. I pressed my forefinger's nail to the side of my thumb. One thing I learned was that when you directed the pain elsewhere, it would eventually wear off.

"Do you want to escape? I promise, they won't hurt you. I'm so sorry about your mommy. I'm so sorry." I patted the puppy's head. "I'll try my best to have you adopted, okay?"

The little thing looked at me, his eyes speaking.

"I know you're scared, but you'll be okay," I told the little pup.

He softly barked.

I heard my phone ring. It was Lenora, asking me where I was. We had agreed to meet early today. Well, I was in the middle of comforting a lonely pup, talking to my own dog, and trying not to bawl here in the kennels alone.

"Bye, pup. I have somewhere I need to go," I told him, before I pushed him inside his kennel again. "Try to sleep. You'll get breakfast in about an hour."

♔~♕

"Why should you be the next princess?" Famy asked me, while she was working on my hair.

"Should we really practice this?" I asked.

"Come on, George. We rehearsed this thousands of times now," she said.

"Well, I'd like to have it as a job," I replied, pulling a part of my hair that Famy had curled and watching if it would go back to its usual wave, unlike this one that was so scripted and shiny and unnatural.

It did.

"No, that's not why, George. Try again," Lenora said, all the way from the other end of the bus. I turned around and saw that she was busily looking at a gown. I'd chosen the black or red dress, but Lenora told me it would be better if I'd pick something that would look outstanding. So she had decided that I should wear the yellow ballroom gown with butterfly wings.

"Can't I just wear something simpler?" I asked her. If I had thought that the neon light was something, well, I was about to fly. "Like maybe just a pure ballroom gown. No wings."

"This one had received a lot of praise during the Spring Runway. It's playful and elegant," Lenora replied.

And it had wings.

"Let her hair fall down on her shoulders. I have a flower crown over there. Please put it on top of her hair," Lenora instructed Famy. "Quickly. It's almost time. Get her ready to fit into the gown."

Time was easy to spend when you were getting groomed to pass the final interview. Before I knew it, I was getting squeezed by three of Lenora's assistants to the said ballroom gown. They tied it so tight on the back that it felt like I would throw up everything I ate this morning.

"Great! She looks perfect," Lenora said. "Show me a smile, George."

I smiled.

"Try widening it a little bit more," she told me. "You're not even trying."

I tried.

"We should work on that, but we don't have time. I just hope that the dress will be enough for the panel to be swept away," Lenora concluded.

I couldn't agree more.

"Now that you're ready, my job here is done. We're not allowed inside, so just do your best, Georgiette," Lenora added.

"Thank you," I replied.

"Go now. Careful on your way down," she said.

Famy helped me get down the bus in one piece. The dress made it hard for me to walk, breathe, or even speak. But somehow, I made it inside the building, after all the looks I got from everyone. They were mostly looking at the dress. Majority went behind me and took pictures.

See?

"So this is it, George. I'm so happy that you've made it here. We're proud of you no matter what," Famy told me.

"Thanks for all the help," I replied.

"A hug would be nice, but it might ruin the wings. Lenora told me that Pete will pick you up later, just give him a call. She has an appointment this afternoon," Famy informed me. Remembering that she was carrying my handbag—which was also from Lenora, because she didn't approve of me using a backpack—Famy handed it to me. "Oh, and here's your bag. Break a leg!"

"I'll try not to, literally speaking," I said, laughing. I was wearing three-inch heels. This was almost a sure ticket to breaking my legs.

When I turned around, there was someone who was waiting for me. She was wearing black slacks and blazers. Such a familiar sight. She courteously asked me, "Are you a finalist?"

"Yes?"

"Name please?"

"Georgiette Elise McAlden."

She looked at her chart. Then after another second, she said, "Follow me."

"Sure thing," I replied, following her inside the hall.

She opened a door for me, as I tried to move around with a ballroom gown and high heels. I mostly looked like a robot, conscious about moving properly and not tripping straight to the floor.

The white bond paper posted outside the black door indicated: Waiting Room.

This was it.

"You're number four, so you still have about an hour before you will be called. There are some refreshments over there on that side. Feel comfortable while waiting," she told me.

I nodded.

While trying to find a seat, I saw one girl looking at me. She was wearing red, glittery feathers instead of wings. This must be some kind of a trend.

Let us all fly high to the sky.

I stood on the sides instead of taking a seat beside her on the couch. If I had found it hard to walk with this gown and high heels, it felt like a completely out of this world task to sit. How would I even properly answer the panel if I couldn't breathe? Lenora wanted me to stand out with this dress, but I could feel myself spacing out instead.

I placed a hand on my waist, relaxing my thoughts. No, it wasn't working. I still couldn't breathe.

When I checked the clock, I realized that I still had time. Going out of the waiting room, I asked the one standing outside, "Where's the restroom?"

The lady in the blazer smiled, pointing across the hall. "It's over there, Ms. McAlden."

"Thanks," I replied, taking my bag with me. There was no way I could live another minute in this dress.

I tried my best to move fast while wearing high heels and a ballroom gown. With each step forward, I could feel my feet burning inside my shoes. I should be nervous for the final interview, but there was a searing pain in my legs. Aside from this bothersome gown, it was taking all my attention.

After a while, I finally saw the restroom sign. I was about to let out a sigh of relief, when I saw someone walking out of the gents' restroom. The restrooms were a little way from the junction of three halls. One was the hall where I came from and where the waiting room was located. The one who just got out was walking to the left wing, passing in front of me.

I panicked, accidentally clacking my heels loudly as I turned around, going straight to the right wing, where the ladies' restroom was located. I really hoped he wouldn't see me. He almost didn't notice me, believe it or not, even if what I was wearing was so bright and yellow and head-turning for the reason that it was so unusual for someone to be wearing a dress like this, he almost didn't glance my way.

But I blew it.

I had made a very noticeable sound, which made him turn his head in my direction. Ah, that was not the way one should remain concealed until she intended to be seen.

"Wow, are those, like, real wings?" Prince Arthur asked behind me, astounded. He was the one who got out of the gents' restroom earlier, and this was not the time I wanted him to see me.

I knew it was impolite, but I went on walking. He was the prince of the kingdom. I should show my respect. But when a girl had to go, she had to go.

However, the gown made it impossible for me to keep on walking at the pace I wanted. The hem got stuck on one of my heels. I tried to get it out, but I found it hard to maintain balance. I had to lean against the wall and forcefully kick away the hem from the three-inch heels that I was wearing.

"Shit. Why isn't this coming off?" I muttered under my breath.

"George?" Now Prince Arthur was even more astonished.

"It's not me, sorry." I tried kicking again. It didn't work.

He walked over to where I was, and was now standing in front of me instead. "It's you, no?"

"Nah, try again." I was busy ripping the piece of cloth I was wearing.

"You're wearing a dress," he said. "A very, very unusual dress."

"With wings, mind you. Look, I know I look very funny right now, but can you help me? The hem won't come off," I said to him, raising my shoes and the dress along with it.

"Sure," he replied, coming to my rescue. Prince Arthur somehow managed to get the hem out of my right shoe with one move. "Better?"

"Thank you," I said in relief.

"So is this your dress for the final interview?" he asked me.

I cleared my throat. "Not quite."

"No?"

"I can't even talk properly with this. I can't even think. My mind is getting devoid of oxygen. So I need to get this off and change into something that I'll be more comfortable to wear," I told him.

It was a good thing that Famy had brought my bag. My first choice was in there. It was a dusty rose colored woven dress with an open back. It was way lot simpler and lightweight compared to the one I was wearing. A pair of new shoes wouldn't fit in the bag without Lenora noticing, so I had to endure the heels, though.

"So why did you wear this in the first place?" Prince Arthur asked.

"Pete's mom is a stylish. You might know her. She works for your mother sometimes. She made me wear this. Sheesh, what's with these wings? It won't come off," I complained, trying to unbuckle the wings behind my back.

"Shall I help you?"

"Are there CCTV cameras around here?" I asked, looking around just to be sure. It would appear very scandalous if he would help me break my wings.

He also checked around. "Not in this area."

"Before anyone sees us, please help me get this thing off my back," I asked him. "There's a place where they have attached the wings."

Prince Arthur examined the back of my dress for a while, before he was able to locate it. I heard one wing fell on the floor, and then another. After he was done, he said, "There you go."

"Lenora would kill me," I muttered.

He laughed. "You're full of surprises. I can't even predict what you're going to do next."

"What can I say?" I felt another burning sensation in my legs. But I should at least get out of this dress; that would make me feel a lot better. "So see you when I see you?"

"In about twenty minutes. And Georgiette, save the day, okay? I'm getting beyond bored with all the scripted speeches I'm hearing all morning," Prince Arthur said, winking.

"What was that?" I asked, disgusted.

"What?" He winked at me again.

"Don't wink at me," I warned him. I almost threw one of the butterfly wings to him, but I should refrain from harming the prince of the kingdom. My goal was to be his princess-in-training. There wouldn't be a need for one if he wasn't around anymore.

So I succumbed to just walking away. Not as graceful as I wished, but I somehow managed.

"See you there," he called.

"Like I have another choice," I said back, waving a hand.

I was the only person in the ladies' restroom, so I didn't bother going to one of the cubicles. I doubted I would fit inside with this humongous dress I was wearing. Instead, I locked the door and took off everything in front of the huge wall mirror.

Lenora would definitely scold me for this, but I would just apologize to her later. The final interview was a tough battle, and I had to be at least conscious.

I pulled out my preferred dress from my bag. After putting it on, I checked my hair. Gladly there was nothing to fix since the hairspray held everything in place.

"Ah, ooh, eee, uh, ah-ee." I exercised my jaws.

Now I was getting very nervous.

The ball gown somehow fit inside my bag, but I had to carry the wings back with me. When I arrived at the waiting room, I saw the one wearing red feathers wings exiting the room with her things.

"Ms. Georgiette Elise McAlden, please proceed to the conference room," I was called by the announcer.

There was no more time to get myself ready. I couldn't even find my head and think straight. All I could hear was the loud thumping of my heart. It was seeping into my bones and making me feel weak in my knees.

Leaving my bag on the couch together with Lenora's wings, I entered the conference room. This time, it wasn't just the conference room that had changed. There were five people sitting in the panel, two security personnel, and two secretaries.

The room itself was spacious enough, compared to where the initial interview was held. The only thing that didn't change was the presence of the one-way glass, which I could bet was where the prince was sitting comfortably