The Prince: A Selection Novella (HarperTeen Impulse)

have a good shape for it.”
    Of course, at those words, I was forced to look at said shape, and there was no denying just how striking she was.
    “Do you enjoy your work?”
    “Oh, yes. It’s amazing how photography can capture just a split second of something exquisite.”
    I lit up. “Absolutely. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m very into photography myself.”
    “Really? We should do a shoot sometime.”
    “That would be wonderful.” Ah! This was going better than I thought. Within ten minutes I’d already weeded out a definite no and found someone with a common interest.
    I could have probably gone on for another hour with Celeste, but if we were ever going to eat, I really needed to hurry.
    “My dear, I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I have to meet everyone this morning,” I apologized.
    “Of course.” She stood. “I’m looking forward to finishing our conversation. Hopefully soon.”
    The way she looked at me . . . I didn’t know the proper words for it. It sent a blush to my face, and I nodded my head in a tiny bow to cover it. I took some deep breaths, focusing myself on the next girl.
    Bariel, Emmica, Tiny, and several others passed through. So far, most of them were pleasant and composed. But I was hoping for so much more than that.
    It took five more girls until anything really interesting happened. As I stepped forward to greet the slim brunette coming my way, she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Kriss.”
    I stared at her open palm and was prepared to shake it before she pulled it back.
    “Oh, darn! I meant to curtsy!” She did, shaking her head as she rose.
    I laughed.
    “I feel so silly. The very first thing, and I got it wrong.” But she smiled it off, and it was actually kind of charming.
    “Don’t worry, my dear,” I said, gesturing for her to sit. “There’s been much worse.”
    “Really?” she whispered, excited by the news.
    “I won’t go into details, but yes. At least you were attempting to be polite.”
    Her eyes widened, and she looked over at the girls, wondering who might have been rude to me. I was glad I’d chosen to be discreet, seeing as it was last night someone called me shallow, and that was a secret.
    “So, Kriss, tell me about your family,” I began.
    She shrugged. “Typical, I guess. I live with my mom and dad, and they’re both professors. I think I’d like to teach as well, though I dabble in writing. I’m an only child, and I’m finally coming to terms with it. I begged my parents for a sibling for years. They never caved.”
    I smiled. It was tough being alone.
    “I’m sure it was because they wanted to focus all their love on you.”
    She giggled. “Is that what your parents told you?”
    I froze. No one had asked a question about me yet.
    “Well, not exactly. But I understand how you feel,” I hedged. I was about to go into the rest of my rehearsed questions, but she beat me to it.
    “How are you feeling today?”
    “All right. It’s a bit overwhelming,” I blurted, being a bit too honest.
    “At least you don’t have to wear the dresses,” she commented.
    “But think of how fun it would have been if I had.”
    A laugh tumbled out of her mouth, and I echoed it. I imagined Kriss next to Celeste, and thought of them as opposites. There was something entirely wholesome about her. I left our time together without a complete impression of her, since she kept pointing the conversation back to me, but I recognized that she was good, in the best sense of the word.
    It was nearly an hour before I got to America. In the time between the first girls and her, I’d already met three solid standouts, including Celeste and Kriss, who I knew would be favorites with the public. However, the girl just before her, Ashley, was so dismally wrong for me she washed all of those thoughts out of my head. When America stood up and moved toward me, she was the only person on my mind.
    Something about her eyes was mischievous, whether she meant it or not. I thought of how she acted last night, and I realized she was a walking rebellion.
    “America, is it?” I joked as she approached.
    “Yes, it is. And I know I’ve heard your name before, but could you remind me?”
    I laughed and invited her to sit. Leaning in, I whispered, “Did you sleep well, my dear?”
    Her eyes said I was playing with fire, but her lips carried a smile. “I am still not your dear. But yes. Once I calmed down, I slept very well. My maids had to pull me out