Playing Princess

Playing Princess 1.5

“Holidays! Finally!” I shouted at the top of my lungs and flung my bag across the sleek wooden floorboards across from my front door. “Woo hoo!”

I danced in the threshold of the front door and bumped it shut with a swing of my hips. Swirling around, I was startled to come face to face with my mother.

The smile was wiped off my face at the sight of her and immediately my body came to a standstill. “What are you doing here?” I picked up my bag roughly, slightly embarrassed I had danced like an idiot when I thought no one was in the house. “You’re never home. Why kill my mood?”

Mum’s usual stony face twisted into a scowl as she prevented me from running upstairs to my room by blocking my way. “I have to talk to you. We have to talk to you.” She inclined her head towards the living room where I realised a figure sat with their back to us.

I frowned, craning my neck around her to glance at the figure but all I could see was the back of his head where a mop of tousled brown hair lay upon. “Who’s that?”

“Come on,” she muttered, a stressful look on her face. Somehow, she made it seem as though it was my fault she appeared so distraught.

“Wait, I want to change –”

“We actually don’t have time for that.” The young man rose from his seat and turned round to face me. I took a second to take in his informal attire like that of any other guy; jeans and a blue flannel unbuttoned at the top. If I had listened closely, I would have noticed that his accent was different to mine and my mother’s.

“Who are you?” I blurted out without thinking and let myself be herded into the living room.

When I glanced at his face closely, I could feel wave of shock jolt through me, freezing me to the spot. I had seen his face so many times on Google Images when I was searching up the entire Devereaux family. The young man in front of me was none other than Andrew Devereaux – Prince Andrew Devereaux.

“You really do look exactly like her,” he murmured, looking at me curiously but impatiently. “But the eyes of course.”

“Wait . . . Prince Andrew? Of Aldern? What are you doing here – in my house?” I squeaked, bewildered.

He raised an eyebrow at me, looking creepily like Peyton when he did that. “You know who I am?”

“You know who he is?” my mother echoed suspiciously and led me toward shim so that he was within arm’s reach. “How?”

I felt a flush creep into my cheeks. “I-I . . . I found a picture in a magazine and-and I thought it was me but it wasn’t.” My fingers fumbled for the crumpled picture I kept in my blazer pocket and unfolded it, handing it over to my mother. “Then I did a little research –”

“Yes good for you but now you don’t have to research anymore,” Andrew interjected and frowned at me. “Mum told me you should have been in Aldern with Peyton by now.”

“I come home to find my first class ticket ripped up in your wastebasket,” she growled from behind me and crumpled the picture in her hand, looking at me angrily. She didn’t even seem fazed by the fact that I looked exactly like the princess. Why – oh no.

 “You knew,” I accused in a whisper, eyes widening in shock. “You knew this entire time and yet you didn’t even tell me?”

“It’s a long story,” she replied quietly and fell on the soft cushioning of the couch, looking exhausted. “Sit. You too, Andrew –”

His face was hard but he obliged. “I don’t –”

“Mum!” I cried out backing away to look at the two of them clearly. “He just called you mum!” I stared at Andrew who didn’t look at all surprised. I couldn’t believe how slow my reaction was. “You’re my older brother?” Those four words left me before I could register them in my mind.