Playing Princess

Playing Princess 1.2

The moment I got back home, I helped Kyle onto the couch and was grateful it was Friday night, otherwise I’d be freaking out over not getting a good night’s sleep. It was already seven-thirty, I had to pick up Peyton from her tennis practice and Leonard was supposed to come home from the café and help me cook dinner!

“Of course it’s all my responsibility, not my stupid mother’s.” I glowered at the family portrait hanging along the fireplace then made a face at it. Mum stood behind Leonard and me with Peyton perched in the middle of us. Each member excluding Peyton had natural blonde hair while only Peyton and Leonard had the brown eyes. Mum and I had the blue ones. Peyton’s hair stood out among the three of us: it was dark brown and ruler-straight, nothing like the rest of our hair. I could only assume she had taken after dad more than mum.

Only thing I knew about him was that he had left the moment my mother had gotten pregnant with Peyton – and he hadn’t known of her existence either. I had been four at the time so obviously not the proper age to be able to remember a fatherly figure too much.

The sad thing was, I didn’t know why he had left us when I was so young and it still confused me to this day. I shook my head, averting my gaze from the portrait. My mother only had it done to make it so we looked like a ‘family’. It was ironic how she wasn’t around for family time yet the portrait seemed to say otherwise.

“Kyle, you just sleep your days away don’t you?” I muttered and snatched his car keys I had placed in his limp hand. Man he could sleep through a tornado if he wanted to!

As expected, my friend didn’t reply as I picked up the magazine and my notebook just to pass time when I waited for Peyton.

The moment I arrived at the tennis centre, I spotted my little sister still playing an intense match, smacking her racquet forward and shot the ball across the net. As much as I taunted and teased her, I was always genuinely impressed with her skills in tennis; she actually wasn’t half bad.

I sighed, knowing this would only run overtime again then pulled out the magazine and stashed my phone away. Returning to the page I had bookmarked, I skimmed through the article about this Devereaux Princess, daughter of King Elliot Devereaux of the fairly large country of Aldern, located somewhere by South America. The girl was the same age as me, seventeen, yet she was already preparing for the throne once her father’s reign would end and he would resign – but that wouldn’t be until a couple year’s time.

It must really suck to be her, I thought smugly, skipping the pages on the background info on the small royal family and the country Aldern. I jotted down some quick notes of interest down in my book and dog-eared the page, turning it afterwards.

The image which lay printed in full colour on the page hadn’t been much at a first glance – it was of the Princess with her father, the picture having been taken at a press conference.

However the second glance I took proved the picture to be more than just the Devereaux Princess on the page.

It was me.

Long blonde curls draped just past her shoulders and her lips were stretched into a small smile which I used on my mother often to fake enthusiasm. The girl in the pictured looked to be my exact replica, most likely my own reflection on the page even though I would never dare to wear a sundress in my entire life like the picture did.

My whole world froze and my mouth ran dry. This couldn’t be possible, I thought in a panic and stared at my very own eyes gazing back at me, only they were a deep warm shade of brown. I felt my heart thud loudly in my ears when I noticed the crease in my left cheek, marking the dimple I saw in photos when I smiled.