Yes, I’m still bummed out that my parents named me ‘Summer’. I mean, when you say my full name, Summer Kilpney, it doesn’t sound that bad, honestly–though, street kids bully me about being a ‘Summer time kid’.
Well, yeah, I love summer. It’s always so warm and toasty, and my mom always hires a new person to sell lemonade at our Frostin’ Drinks store.
I know they mean bad.
Well, anyways, long story short. I’m a princess. Yeah, big deal, whatever. My best friend Katie said that people bully me because they’re just jealous. I hope she’s right.
I looked in the mirror now, totally nervous. My mom had invited over four princes already to see if I’d like to marry them, but I rejected them all.
One little secret–don’t tell anyone, okay?
Before my grandmother died, she gave me a family heirloom.
My tiny black comb that I had tucked in my drawer.
Oh my gosh, I miss Grandmother so much.
Oh wait, right. You’re wondering, “What does this have to do with anything?
Well, my grandmother rejected (or divorced) my grandfather because he started to take drugs. And he was king!
Now, I’m scared of getting a prince in my life. What if he takes drugs?
“Summer! Come downstairs, he’s waiting!” my mom called now. Oh, great! A new prince in waiting, I see.
I had on my normal pink gown, my wavy brown hair hung loose at my shoulders. I knew what I had to do, and sighed. I wouldn’t even look at the guy in the eyes. I cannot make any dramatic scene.
“Are you coming?”
“Yes,” I called down to my mom.
I slowly made my way down the stairs. No, what was I thinking? I can’t act like those other princesses. I held my gown (BTW a ‘gown’ in this case is a dress) up as I raced down the stairs, nearly tripping on my satchel.
When the prince smiled at me, I seriously could not help smiling back.
“This is Charles III. I baked some cookies, in case you want some.” As Mother walked out of the room, she whispered in my ear, “Make the right choice.”
I slumped. If I told her what grandmother had said, she would be really sad. Mother, I mean.
“Hi, I’m Summer,” I muttered quietly as I slid in a chair across from Charles. I suddenly felt like smacking my head. Of course he knew that, since my mother had yelled it!
“Uh, yeah, I know,” he murmured, popping a cookie in his mouth. When he’d gulped it down, he held out a box. The same velvet box that I saw from all the princes I’ve seen. And shooed away.
“Lemme guess,” I mumbled as he opened the box. “A ring?”
“Umm, actually, a necklace,” Charles whispered and looked away. It was a diamond one, and it was really pretty. “I just saw this at the jewelry shop, and it looked prettier than the rings.”
“Okay.” I honestly didn’t know what to say next. He seemed like someone who wouldn’t have drugs. But, I can’t know for sure.
Charles cleared his throat, blushing and closing his eyes. “Will you… marry me?” His eyes fluttered open. I knew he expected me to say ‘yes’, but, man, these people are clueless. Completely clueless. I barely knew this guy.
“I don’t really know you…” I started, slipping out of my chair. “And I don’t love you, either, of course. So, I’m sorry, Charles, but no.”
His face turned pale and he got up and stormed up the stairs and into my bedroom! I screamed and my mom raced after me.
“What’s wrong, darling?” She asked hurriedly. “And where’s Charles?”
“He’s in my bedroom!” I yelled, barging in. He was looking at the pictures in my picture frames.
“Get out,” I ordered, taking his arm and pulling him out. My teeth clenched, I pointed to downstairs. “And do not come again.”
“I will,” Charles called as he stormed down the stairs. “And I will force you to marry me.”
As he banged the front door behind him, I couldn’t help but think, What is with that man?