“Oh, I didn’t mean…That is, I didn’t think…” Footsteps sound toward the door. “Wait for me, your Highness!”

I listen to their voices and footsteps fade, rage boiling up my spine. It’s official. Prince Lincoln, I hate you more than anyone else in the universe. Someday I’ll show you what a ‘real warrior’ can do.

Pacing around the squeaky wooden floor, I imagine how awesome it would have been to trip them both down the stairwell. Hitching the book under my arm, I march straight out of the library, down the stairs, and into the first floor ballroom. As I stomp through across the dance floor, my eyes catch movement through the tall windows around me. Thrax mill about the hedgerow maze outside, all dressed up for some kind of formal shindig.

Grr.

I leave Cissy a goodbye note in the reception hall (including a not-too-believable story of how the two pillows got destroyed) and stomp off to my station wagon. I almost get in six accidents on the drive home, mostly because I’m practicing ‘you’re a jerk’ speeches instead of paying attention to the road. Once in my own driveway, I’m barely aware of parking the car, marching into the house, and slamming the door behind me. I make a beeline for my room.

I’m half-way there when Mom pops her head in from the kitchen. “Hi, Myla. I got us some frozen dinners. Yours is chicken, I think.” She shoots me a long stare. My eyes still flash red with rage.

Mom frowns. “Is everything alright?”

No, it’s not alright. I hate this thrax Prince guy so much I can’t stand it. I take a deep breath. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I just have a lot of homework to do.”

“Do you want to eat in your room?”

“That would be awesome.”

I march into my room and settle onto my bed. Pulling a textbook out of my backpack, I toss it open to a random page.

Mom steps up to my bedside. “Here you go.” She sets a tray of greenish-orange goop onto my nightstand. I glance at the ‘food’ and wince. Even for our house, this is disgusting stuff. Note to self: learn how to cook.

I force a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t stay up too late doing homework.” She gives me a peck on the cheek and walks out the door.

I shovel some frozen dinner into my head and stare at the same random chapter in my textbook. An hour ticks by. None of the words on the page sink into my brain. My eyes flutter shut while the book’s still open on my lap.