When Meeshell got back to her dorm room after dinner, she collapsed onto her bed. Thankfully, Farrah wasn’t there, so Meeshell didn’t have to put on a brave face. The day had been an epic fail! She felt as if she’d been thrown for a loop. Even the ever-cheerful Apple had seemed discouraged.
Maybe Meeshell wouldn’t join a club or a team. She didn’t need a bunch of new friends. She didn’t need to be popular. But from what Apple had said, being in a club was part of the Ever After High experience, and experiencing normal life on land was Meeshell’s goal.
She checked her messages. The first was from Professor Baba Yaga, reminding her to check in if anything was wrong. The second message was from Hagatha, alerting students that there would be no green bean hash next week, due to a union dispute with the giants. And the third message was from Mrs. Her Majesty the White Queen with the thronework assignment for Princessology.
MirrorPad in hand, Meeshell sat on the balcony, her legs curled beneath her. Where was a seagull when she needed one? She really wanted to send a message home. She really wanted to talk to her Merfriends. To someone who’d understand.
StoryTeller2: Hi. How are you doing?
The MirrorPad lit up, startling Meeshell. It was as if StoryTeller2 could read her mind, knowing she needed someone to talk to!
StoryTeller2: How come?
Seashell: I tried out for cheerhexing and Track and Shield today, and I was a total disaster.
StoryTeller2: Yeah, I heard.
Seashell: You heard?
StoryTeller2: Word gets around. Blondie Lockes showed some highlights on her Just Right show. You can’t keep any secrets at Ever After High.
She sure hoped that last statement wasn’t true.
StoryTeller2: Don’t feel too bad. I’m not good at sports, either. Why are athletes always popular? I don’t get it. When will intelligence and artistic creativity get as much attention as sports?
Seashell: Thanks for trying to make me feel better. But it was hextremely embarrassing.
StoryTeller2: Believe me, I know embarrassing. And what I saw wasn’t all that bad. At least you didn’t fall flat on your face. I do that all the time.
Seashell: You do?
StoryTeller2: Yep. A bit of a klutz.
She felt better knowing that she wasn’t the only klutz on campus.
Seashell: So, you obviously know who I am but I don’t know who you are. Who are you?
As usual, a long pause followed.
Seashell: Hello?
Another long pause with no response.
Seashell: You still there?
Whoever was conversing with Meeshell clearly didn’t want to reveal his or her true identity. But why? It seemed strange to her. Yet how could she feel annoyed, when she was also hiding her true identity?
Seashell: Okay, you don’t have to tell me who you are. But can you tell me just one thing about yourself? Just a little hint?
StoryTeller2: Just one thing?
Seashell: Yes. One thing and I’ll stop asking.
StoryTeller2: I’m a prince.
A prince? Her heart flitted for a moment. Not only did this mysterious person seem nice and sensitive, but he was also a prince? She’d promised to ask only one thing, but now a stream of questions flooded her mind. And one question in particular lingered.
Are you my prince?