So Not A Princess Movie

Damia Frances - Lahr and Ken Lahr

Chapter Eight :

Damia Frances - Lahr and Ken Lahr

"How do you know that I am a freshman?" I looked at her in bewilderment.

She softly sighed, "Look at the dorm assignment papers. It says exactly who you are dorming with."

My eyes darted quickly to the paper:

Damia Frances - Lahr

Major: Fashion Merchandising

Minor: Cosmetology

Year 3

"A junior?"

Damia sighed, "So, you read that and that is the only question that you have for me?"

I stuttered,"W-well, I mean, I didn't know that juniors still chose to have dorms."

"Yes, I chose to have a dorm because my family lives close by, but I didn't want to live with them. I wanted to live on campus," Damia spoke rigidly, "Anything else, Princess?"

I shook my head, but then looked at her and opened my mouth, but closed it right after.

Why would she know about Ken's party, I mean, the two probably didn't even know each other, right? They had to be on different polar ends of the social scale, right?

"Out with it." Damia interruppted my thoughts.

"Um, I was wondering if you knew anything about the party that Ken was having. . ." I stared at my feet in alomst what felt like a mixture of shame and embarassment.

"So, Ken invited you to the party?" she leaned against the door frame.

I couldn't speak. Damia just commanded a type of prescence. It was almost like she knew the latter on how to manipulate focus. I weakly nodded.

Damia wickedly laughed, "Last time I checked, he didn't go for redheads. . .this world is going insane!" She just stood there laughing, "You know what, just go to it. Have fun, I know Ken will try to!"

"We are referring to the same guy right? Blonde, blue eyes, tall?" I sheepishly asked.

"That's him!" she gushed.

I gulped shamelessly, "I don't like blondes like that, Damia."

Damia stopped laughing for a moment to process what I had just said. It took her a moment, but she doubled over in laughter, "Ken is fucked then!"

"Excuse me?"

* * * * *

The Next Day

I was reading a book about a girl who died during 9/11/01 when a small manicured hand ripped it out of my hands.

Wait, manicured? I didn't think Damia really whent that far into nair care. The things you learn every day!

I looked at her with a look of sheer annoyance, "Excuse me? I would like to read my book, thank - you."

Damia smirked, "Oh, Princess, let's get you ready for the ball, yes? Yes."

"Ball? What heck are you talking about?" I spoke worriedly, but I tried my best to conceal it. Nervousness is not something you want to let someone like Damia know of.

"My party. You're coming too," she paused and devilishly, but like an angel at the same time, smiled, "Oh, and the guys want to meet my little princess."

" 'You're little princess'? No. And what party are we even going too?" I put my foot down on the floor as I sat up.

"Fiesty little princess!" she laughed, "Can you hit a bullseye too, everytime?"