The (Not So) Perfect Princess

I improve my acting skills

I counted the one-hundred-and-fifty-three steps out of habit as I clip-clopped down the hallway. Before I could convince myself otherwise, I opened the double doors of the dining room and walked through.

Mother and Father didn’t even look up when I walked in. Mrs. Bolshire took one glance at my outfit and just about choked on her eggs. If she hated what I’d picked out so much, why didn’t she treat me like a five year old and dress me herself like she did every other day? I almost spoke up and told her just that, but I held myself back. I couldn’t have her pounding on my bedroom door like this morning, ready to run it down with a horse. I bit my lip and sat down at my seat. Do it for Q. I told myself.

For the first few minutes of the meal, no one spoke. I barely touched my food. The only sound was the occasional clink of silverware. I wracked my brain frantically for a way to get food back to the three of them. Minutes passed, and still, no one spoke. Any other day, I would’ve been complaining about this or that, minor, useless things, just to get Mrs. Bolshire worked up. But not today. I didn’t need an angry governess lecturing me in my room. Finally, finally, an idea popped into my head. A terrible one, but an idea nonetheless. I purposefully moved my elbow too quickly and knocked half my breakfast onto the floor.

“Clumsy girl.” Mother scoffed. Mrs. Bolshire smirked again. Do it for Scout.

I shoved back my chair, knelt on the ground, and slowly began to clean up my mess. I grabbed the fallen apple, white roll, and chocolate chip muffin and tied them up in a cloth napkin. I then tied the napkin to the inside fabric of my dress, praying that it wouldn’t tear and fall out half way to my room. I didn’t have any time to think of a more efficient way to get food back to my three “guests”, so this was going to have to do. I scraped the fried eggs off the ground and back onto the plate, grabbed the fallen fork, and slowly stood up.

“I’m terribly sorry,” I agreed, trying my hardest to look sincere. “I am pretty clumsy. Always dropping and running into things. Silly me.” I set the plate on the table.

Mother and Father looked shocked. I’d never apologized to them before. As much as I hated it, I needed them on my good side (wherever that was). Bolshire squinted her frosty blue eyes at me. She wasn’t buying it. That proved that she knew me better than my own parents. A noisy, rebellious teenager all of the sudden being polite and dainty, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice? Heck, I wouldn’t buy it either. Especially not after what happened yesterday.

“Yes, you are.” Mother said, looking proud. Congratulations on finally getting some respect from your daughter. I thought. 14 years is a little late, though.

“I think it would be best if I left now,” I continued, forcing a smile. “I wouldn’t want to disrupt your breakfast anymore.”

“Yes, that would probably be best, as you have been quite annoying.” Father decided, nodding. “You are excused.” My eye twitched. Do it even for Eily.

I awkwardly curtsied and walked out of the room, hoping the napkin wouldn’t untie. I didn’t let my breath out until I’d closed the double dining room doors and was half way done counting my one-hundred-and-fifty-three steps. I opened one of the doors to my bedroom, waddled in, and slammed it shut. Three sets of eyes were locked on me.