Amelie

Prologue: Part Two (Amelie P.O.V.)

After sitting quietly, smiling, giggling, and acting like the perfect ladies for two hours, Mrs. Howard and my mom released Kat and I to do as we pleased for the rest of the afternoon. Every day, Kat and I liked to go to the public library in town, order a coffee for each with pastries and then sit to discuss different authors, books, classes, instruments, art, and our days away from our mother's prying ears. When we would walk to the library, people would nod at us and wave their hands trying to get us to notice them. We've had guys give us flowers at random, and sometimes we'd be escorted to our destinations by young men that go to the same school as us.

Kat and I had been best friends basically our whole lives, and I had grown to think of her as a sister. Our mothers had raised us as if we were princesses, and everyone treated us like we were. We wore dresses every day and nightgowns to bed. Our hair was done to perfection by our mothers and our nails were done once a week by professionals. Our gorgeous and expensive dresses were coordinated to match with our nails, and our jewelry was all real gold and silver with diamonds that caught everyone's attention. We never left our homes without makeup, heels and handbags were a must.

Our fathers were never really in the picture since we were toddlers. My father had died when Puerto Rico had begun to sink almost ten years ago. Help had arrived from the Royal palace, but the helicopters couldn't take us all. My father -- brave and kind -- had stayed behind to drown with the island while my mother and I were flown away to safety. We never had a funeral since there wasn't a body to bury anymore.

Kat's father had died when he was drafted to fight a war in Vietnam and a missile had hit the camps where many soldiers were seeking refuge. The whole place exploded and burned down, not leaving any bodies or evidence. The camp didn't even exist anymore, now it was just a flat piece of land where a golf field was being built.

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Since Kat and I had been raised as if we were real life princesses, we had a lot of rules set by our mothers. We both knew more languages than all the normal people at our school. Everyone in France knew French (except for maybe most of the tourists), and they were taught basic English at school. Kat and I knew Italian, English, Spanish (me being born into the language, and her learning through tutors and lessons with me), Japanese, German, and we were still learning French. Each of us had to learn to play an instrument, so I had chosen to play the guitar and Kat had chosen the piano. Of course, our mothers weren't pleased with us knowing how to play just one instrument so we were given lessons to learn to play a few other instruments along the way. We had to smile and wave at strangers, and to act appropriately based on the event. If we were at a funeral, we had to look sad but not cry. If we were at a celebration, we were to smile and clap politely.

My mother had never told me why we were to act this way, even though I had asked many times.

"Are you okay, Amelie?"

I snapped myself out of my thoughts and bowed my head in acknowledgement at a young boy who was waving at us from an open window across the street. "Of course, Kat."

We continued to walk in silence.

When we made it to the library (it had a café inside it along with a gift shop), two men held the doors open for us and smiled as we walked by them. Kat and I smiled back, thanked them, and sashayed into the warm and cozy library. Not very many people paid attention to us when we went to the library, and I think that's one of the reasons we actually liked coming here every day we could. Kat and I ordered vanilla cappuccinos with two small, red velvet cupcakes.

"How was French class?" Kat asked casually, as she did every weekday.

Kat knew about Ethan and I's secret relationship, and she was very supportive since she was also seeing a guy in secret -- her piano instructor. Even though she was great at playing the piano, she still went to piano classes just to see her boyfriend Xavier. They'd been dating for about two months and some change, a little longer than Ethan and I.

"It was great, I learned a lot of new things." I payed the bill this time, and Kat tipped. We walked out of the cafe and towards the comfy chairs by the fireplace -- our designated hang out place.

"Like what?" Kat asked as she sat down on the loveseat. I sat on the seat across from hers, and set the small plate that held my cupcake down on the coffee table beside me. Kat held hers in her lap and gave me an encouraging smile.

"Apparently a make out session can turn into a break up scene in less twenty minutes," I said calmly. I took a sip from my cappuccino and lowered my gaze to the hardwood floor, crossing my ankles and holding my warm cup with both hands.

"Oh, Amelie, I am so sorry," Kat said, sounding sincere.

I knew that if anyone was going to understand, it was her. And I wanted to tell her everything and cry, but in a place so public it was impossible. Not even my bedroom was private enough. The only private place was my head, and that's where most of my secrets and fears were buried. If word got around to my mother about crying or the somewhat relationship with Ethan, I'd be writing my etiquette rules (a list she made up all on her own consisting of nearly a hundred things I can and can't do) on sheets of paper until my mom was satisfied but before my fingers bled.

Gotta keep myself beautiful, I thought to myself sarcastically.

"It isn't important," I said. "He was just a guy." I picked up my cupcake and focused on the frosting rose that sat at the top of the cupcake, smiling a little as I looked back at the guy who had given it to us. I caught his eye and he smiled, showing dimples. I mouthed a "thank you" and returned my attention to Kat. "There are a lot of interesting men all over France."

She pursed her lips and then flipped her shoulder length brown hair behind her shoulders, letting her hazel eyes wander around the room before settling her gaze back on me. "Amelie, it's okay to let it hurt. Don't shut out the pain, let it come and accept it. Then you'll move on."

I smiled at her. "I already did, Kat. I hurt for a few minutes, cleaned myself up, and then drank nasty tea. I'm a lady, I can't sit around crying over a boy."

"Either way, you loved Ethan. I could tell from the way you spoke of him, and how eager you were for your mom to tell you that you were allowed to have a relationship."

"Love isn't real," I said firmly. "The only that exists close to love is lust, and that's all that was between Ethan and I. I was just bored, and I felt like being taught something other than French." I took a bite of my cupcake, closing my eyes and savoring the rich taste of it. I swallowed the bite and opened my eyes, leveling my gaze with Kat again. "Though I did learn how to French kiss, so I guess a few things were French. But still, it was all lust."

"You guys never, um, you know, have sex. So it wasn't lust," she lowered her voice a little. "Unless you had sex and didn't tell me about it."

"We didn't have sex. But not having sex doesn't mean it isn't lust. Sometimes kissing and touching is all you need out of a person," I muttered. "But, onto a brighter topic, I finally finished my portrait of the roses in the garden."

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about art. We grabbed a few art books and tried to interpret the meanings of a few sculptures and paintings. When it was beginning to get dark we walked to our homes quietly. The Royal government had set a curfew for all citizens: nobody was allowed out after eight thirty. Those who were out past that time, even if just one minute after, would be shot on spot and taken to court if they didn't die from it.

Once inside, my mother helped me out of my dress and placed it on a hanger even though she was going to be hand-washing it in the morning, then removed my shoes and placed them in my closet. She hung my jewelry, brushed my hair, and ran a bath for me. I washed my hair, cleansed my face, and then dressed myself in the silk nightgown my mother had picked out for tonight. We watched the Royal Announcements at nine, and at nine thirty I lied in bed to sleep.

There were nights, like tonight, when I would stare out the window and fantasize about sleeping on grass with the stars and moon high above me. I would fantasize about not having such a strict government, and how it would feel when the light night breeze touched my skin as it did to the characters we read about in my literature class. I would think and wonder about what I'd be doing if my father was still alive and Puerto Rico hadn't sunk; how different my life would've been then.

But I would always come back to the reality of it all.

I was trapped in a life that wasn't my own, but was instead managed by the government.