I nod.

My father steps back and rests his arm around my mother’s shoulders. She leans against him, and I turn to walk toward the tall ornate doors that mark the main entrance to the palace. One is still propped open from when the car was being loaded. I pause when I reach it, and glance back at my parents. They’re still standing in the same spot, watching me leave. I smile at them, then step outside the palace and into the warm summer sunshine. The shiny black SUV is parked just outside the main doors. Richard and Michael are both standing next to the car.

“Ready, Princess?” Richard asks.

“Yes, I am,” I reply confidently.

Richard climbs into the front passenger seat next to the driver, and Michael climbs in next to me in the back. We pull up to the massive iron gate. The doors creak open slowly, revealing the expanse of open road ahead of us. Crowds of tourists mill about just outside the gates. I look out at them from behind tinted glass as they point and exclaim at the car.

Progress is slow as we drive away from the palace and wind through the city, but we eventually reach the highway. I relax against the seat in preparation for the two-hour drive to the coast as tree-lined roads fly by.

I doze off during the drive and am jolted awake by the bumpy country road that signals our arrival at Glendale Cottage. To call the royal residence a cottage is an understatement. At one point, it was a fairly modest dwelling, but years of restorations and renovations have made mansion a more appropriate noun.

We pause at the gated entrance so the driver can flash his identification. Once he does, the gate slides open, allowing us to roll up the clamshell drive to the front of the house. I head inside as soon as we park, while Richard and Michael begin unloading the car.

Over the course of the next four days, I’m quizzed relentlessly by Richard on every single aspect of my cover story. Once he’s satisfied I remember each detail, he passes me over to Michael to test me on my knowledge of American culture.

Our sessions of preparation are much more enjoyable, mostly thanks to Michael’s easy-going nature, which I appreciate even more after enduring days of Richard’s taciturn manner. The subject matter is also more interesting, although the one topic I remain unable to master is American football. I make the mistake of mentioning my confusion regarding the sport to Richard at dinner one night.

He decides it is absolutely necessary for me to have some understanding of football to pass as an American student, thanks to its widespread popularity throughout the country. I’m immediately tasked with reading a book on the sport, which makes me more confused. Michael tries to help, but seems equally baffled by it.

The day before I’m scheduled to depart, Richard enters the suite as my hair is being cut and dyed from strawberry blonde to light blonde to inform me he has set up a call with a retired professional football player to teach me about the sport.