Prince of Gulbrania

by Lauren M. Flauding

  “Homecoming Princess: Kayla Morrison!”

  It took me a moment to realize that I needed to walk up and stand with all the other royalty. People were cheering and James smiled at me as I took my place with the others.

  “Homecoming Prince: Wyatt Brooks!”

  My heart pounded as Wyatt came over to stand next to me. His eyes lingered on my tank top before he dragged them up to my face. I felt a moment of discomfort, but shook it off as I smiled at him.

  “Looks like we’ll be sharing a dance,” he whispered.

  “I don’t mind if you don’t,” I replied.

  “Why don’t we make it easy and just dance together the entire night?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said, hating myself for sounding really lame as I responded to his understated way of asking me to homecoming.

  He smiled and slipped his hand into mine, making my heart nearly beat out of my chest. I noticed Miranda glaring at me, and I suddenly remembered that she wanted to be homecoming princess. I felt a little bad, at least, as bad as I could feel standing there holding Wyatt’s hand. It wasn’t like I’d tried to become royalty, it hadn’t ever really appealed to me. Maybe I could add it to all the things I was planning to put on my college applications. That had been my objective for the past few years. If I had enough impressive things on my applications, maybe the admissions people wouldn’t mind that my father was in prison for attempted murder.

  Chapter Eight

  Frog

  Chemistry lab was quickly becoming the worst class of my day. It wasn’t that the work was hard. Since Mrs. Clements was still on probation, they just stuck us with a substitute from the English department who had us watch instructional chemistry videos from the 80’s. So we watched people with big hair do experiments, which was clearly a lot safer than having us do them ourselves. No, I didn’t mind the videos, or the substitute, but I hated having to watch Kayla and Wyatt be all cozy for an entire hour. I tried to ignore them, but they were right in front of me, and every time he put his arm around her or whispered in her ear I wanted to roundhouse kick him in the head. It didn’t help that Milo kept up a constant commentary on their actions.

  “Hey, did you see how he brushed her hair back to touch her neck? That was pretty smooth. Or the way he dropped his pen so he could put his hand on her thigh when he picked it back up? You should take lessons from this guy.”

  At least Kayla was still coming over to my house the next day to work on our project. Not that I thought that meant I had a chance with her, I was just glad that I’d be able to spend some time with her.

  The video we were watching ended - some snoozer about alkali metals - and a few seconds later the bell rang. I headed toward the door, but tripped over somebody’s bag on the way there and ran into the back of Alice Rowes.

  “Watch where you’re going, Jell-O pants!” She called out, and several students around her snickered.

  I rolled my eyes and tried to leave, but suddenly Wyatt was in my way.

  “Hey, leave him alone,” he said, giving Alice a glare that made her turn bright red. “He didn’t do anything to you.”

  Kayla looked at Wyatt with admiration, and I had to bite back a rude remark. This sort of thing happened often. Some guy would be nice to me to impress some girl. Usually I didn’t mind, but this was Kayla.

  “If anything, you should be thanking him,” Wyatt continued, raising his voice. “We should all be thanking him. He saved us from blowing up the other day.”

  A few of the students nodded thoughtfully.

  I really wanted to hate this guy, but he was doing me a favor. “Thanks,” I muttered, stepping around him.

  “Anytime,” he replied, clapping his hand on my shoulder in an exaggerated way as I went by.

  I couldn’t get out of that classroom fast enough. If there was anything more uncomfortable than being tormented, it was being praised.

  *****

  “You should be folding laundry when she comes in. Then she’ll think you’re all domestic.”

  “Or really lame,” I replied, looking at Milo in exasperation. I’d made the mistake of telling him that Kayla was coming to my house, so he’d come over to help me prepare. While I cleaned up, he had been making ridiculous suggestions on how to make the atmosphere more appealing.

  “Oh! And you should bake some cookies!” Milo added. “The smell will drive her wild.” He chewed on his lip. “Or maybe that’s for when you’re trying to sell your house...”

  “I think it smells alright in here as it is.”

  Milo raised an eyebrow at me, so I went to find a can of air freshener and gave the room a couple sprays.

  “Are you going to take her up to your room?” Milo asked.

  “Probably not. That’d be kind of weird.”

  “Yeah, you should wait until at least the third date if you want to be a gentleman.”

  “Milo, this isn’t a date!”

  “It’s all about perspective.”

  I looked at my watch and straightened a few pillows on the couch. Milo sat down, immediately messing up the pillows.

  “Is your mom going to be here?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s been working pretty late these days.”

  “Perfect.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant by that statement, I heard the rumble of Kayla’s truck in my driveway.

  “She’s here!” I hissed. “You’ve got to leave!”

  “Do I have to?” Milo whined. “I could just hide in the closet and spy on you two. That’d be a lot more fun than doing my homework.”

  I glared at him and he took the hint.

  “Okay, I’ll go out the back,” he said, standing up. “Good luck!”

  He started to leave, but I had one more question.

  “Hey, Milo.”

  “Yeah,” he said, turning around.

  “How do I look?”

  He glanced at me and frowned. “Um, like... Frog?”

  I sighed. I guess that was about as good as I was going to get. There was a knock at the door and Milo gave me a thumbs up, then ran through the kitchen and out the back. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Kayla

  “Don’t look at me! You’re making me laugh!” I said, trying valiantly to keep a straight face.

  Frog smiled. “I have to look at you!” He replied, adjusting the camera. “If I don’t, I’ll end up filming the wall or something.”

  “Okay, fine. But just try not to smile.”

  Frog raised his eyebrows. “Not smile? You might as well throw me out the window.”

  I fell into another laughing fit, then tried to calm myself. It had been a surprising night. At first things had been a little strained, after all, it was kind of awkward coming to his house. But then we made an outline for our movie and started filming it, and with every segment we did, things got more ridiculous. We started with a demonstration of the Armenian alphabet, and Frog kept making funny comments on what every letter looked like. Then we showed how to make lavash, the traditional bread, and somehow we got flour everywhere. Lastly, we were trying to replicate an Armenian folk dance, but at this point I was so far gone that any little thing would set me off into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was with Frog, and that I was having a really good time.

  “Are you ready to try again?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “I think so.”

  Frog played the music and I started doing the steps, carefully avoiding his eyes so I wouldn’t laugh again. I got about 20 seconds into it, then tripped and fell to the floor. Frog rushed out from behind the camera.

  “Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling down to help me up.

  “I’m fine,” I said, laughing as I stood up. “I just think we might be here all night.”

  “That’s alright with me,” Frog muttered. I glanced at him and an awkward second passed before he stepped back. “Um, I think it might work better if you did it like
this.”

  He did some of the dance steps, and he actually looked pretty decent.

  “You’re a good dancer,” I commented. “Maybe you should be on camera for this part.”

  “No thank you,” Frog replied. “I don’t need to give people more reasons to make fun of me.”

  “Oh, so you’re just going to let me take that bullet?”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Pretty much.”

  I gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Alright, then. Let’s get this over with.”

  It took a couple more tries, but I finally got it together and we finished the dancing segment.

  “Okay, so what now?” I asked, falling onto the couch.

  “Your work is done,” Frog said with a shrug. “I’ll just edit out all the laughing and we’ll have a great video.”

  “All the laughing?”

  “Maybe I’ll make a blooper reel for the end.”

  I groaned. “Please don’t. I don’t want evidence of me making a fool of myself.” I looked over at Frog. “Are you sure you don’t want any help editing?”

  “Nah, it’ll be easy. Plus, you’re busy with all your homecoming stuff.”

  I nodded. “Hm. Sometimes I’m afraid all that’s going to fall apart.”

  Frog chuckled. “No way. You’ll pull it together. You always do. I’ll never forget that time you put on a bake sale at the last minute so we would have enough money to go to the water park.

  I stared at Frog. I had a faint memory of that bake sale, it had to have been over ten years ago, but how would he have known about it? Frog ran a hand through his shaggy hair and then peered at me.

  “You really don’t remember, do you?”

  I felt like maybe this was some big joke. “Remember what?”

  Frog sighed and sat down on the other end of the couch. “We used to play together a lot when we were younger. We were actually pretty good friends.”

  I bit my lip, trying to recall anything that validated Frog’s statement. When I didn’t respond, he continued.

  “There was one summer when we spent almost every day together. We dug a big hole in my backyard to try and make a pool, and when it didn’t work out, we buried some toys in it. They’re probably still out there,” he said, glancing out the window. “Anyway, then you guys moved and I hardly saw you after that. It was when we were about seven.”

  I blew out a long breath. Seven. That would explain why I didn’t remember anything. That was when my dad went to prison and my world fell apart. Still, I felt bad that I had no recollection of this part of my childhood.

  “Wow, Frog, I’m sorry. I must have a hard time remembering because I went through a lot when I was seven. My dad...”

  But before I could let the lie slip out, a woman came through the door. Frog jumped up.

  “Hi mom. You’re home earlier than usual.”

  Mom? This woman was gorgeous. I stood up and looked between her and Frog, but I couldn’t find a trace of resemblance. Maybe he was adopted.

  “Frederick, you have company?”

  “Oh, yeah. You remember Kayla Morrison. We were working on a project.”

  Several expressions flashed across her face before she smiled. “Of course! It’s been so long! How are you, sweetie?” She crossed the room and gave me a hug.

  “I’m... I’m fine,” I responded, a little taken aback with her affection.

  “Kayla is our junior class president,” Frog interjected. “And homecoming princess,” he added in a tone that seemed a little bitter.

  Frog’s mom gave me an approving look. “That’s very exciting! And how is your father, honey? Do you get to see him very often?”

  I nearly choked. “My father... is dead.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Did he pass away in prison?”

  There it was. Somehow, this woman knew the truth. I guess if Frog and I really used to be such good friends it would make sense that our families had been close, but that fact didn’t give me any comfort. She must have seen the horror on my face because she stepped back and straightened her skirt.

  “I’m just going to run upstairs and change. It was lovely to see you, Kayla.”

  “You too,” I squeaked as Frog’s mom excused herself. I glanced at Frog, who was giving me an odd look. Maybe he knew the truth as well. I slowly sat back down on the couch, unsure how to proceed. How could I cover this up?

  “Are you okay?” Frog asked timidly.

  I studied him. If he already knew, what was the point of lying? I didn’t really know him too well, but he seemed nice enough. Could I trust him with this secret?

  “My dad isn’t really dead,” I said slowly.

  “But people at school think he is.”

  “Yeah, because that’s what I told everyone.”

  Frog frowned. “Why?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve spent a lot of time and effort to succeed at school, academically and socially. If people found out my dad was in jail, all of that could fall apart.”

  Frog nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “I won’t.”

  I searched his face, and was comforted to see that he looked sincere.

  “I’m not going to lie about this forever,” I added quickly. “Just until I get out of here and go to college. Hopefully somebody will accept me despite my father’s situation.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Frog said, smiling. “Actually, I think they offer scholarships to children of incarcerated parents.”

  I laughed in spite of myself. It was amazing that Frog could put a positive spin on this. And I felt a little bit better telling the truth to at least one person. I glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped. I hadn’t realized how late it was. If I didn’t get to the diner quick I’d be locked out.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said, getting up from the couch and hurriedly gathering my things. “Thanks for everything. If you need any more help on the video, just let me know.”

  “Oh, okay,” Frog said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t have time to talk. I gave a quick wave and rushed out the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Frog

  I just stood there for a few minutes, trying to remember and hold on to every moment I had spent with Kayla that night. It had been incredible. Well, until my mom came home and killed the mood. But even then, Kayla had trusted me with one of her biggest secrets. That had to mean something.

  I finally collapsed onto the couch and noticed something on the floor. I reached down and picked up Kayla’s cell phone. She must have forgotten to check for it in her hurry to leave. I turned it on and was surprised to see there was no passcode. I looked at a few of her pictures and notes and then I saw some text messages from Wyatt and I immediately felt sick. As tempted as I was to go through everything in her phone, I knew it just wasn’t right, and it would probably just make me depressed. I went through her contacts until I found her mom and called the number.

  “Hello? Kayla?”

  “Uh, no, this is Frog... Frederick Vonnegan.”

  “Oh, Frederick! How are you? Is Kayla still at your house?”

  “No, she just left, but she forgot her phone here. I was calling you to see how I can get it back to her.”

  “Oh, that is so sweet of you,” Kayla’s mom gushed. “I would say just bring it to her at school tomorrow, but I know how attached you kids are to your devices.”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Well, if she just left, she’ll be heading to the diner.”

  “Diner?”

  “Yes, Kathleen’s Diner on 38th. She’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll take it to her there.”

  “Thank you so much, honey. Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  I ended the call, wondering why Kayla would be at some diner this late at night. Just then, my mom came down the stairs.

  “Who were you talk
ing to Frederick?”

  I held up Kayla’s phone. “It was Mrs. Morrison. Kayla left her phone here and I need to take it back to her.”

  “Oh.” My mom looked like she was caught in some private dilemma. “You’re going tonight?”

  “Yeah. She’ll probably be wanting it. Is that okay?”

  My mom stared at the wall and took a long time to respond. I didn’t know why she was acting so weird. “Yes,” she said finally, “just be careful.”

  “Sure, mom,” I said, standing up to get my car keys.

  “And take your pills before you go,” she added.

  I rolled my eyes, but dutifully went upstairs to my bedroom and swallowed down two of the awful pills. I waited for the familiar tingling sensation to subside before heading to the garage. I was pulling out of the driveway when suddenly there was a tapping sound on my window.

  “Hi Freddy!”

  I flinched so violently that I hit my head on the roof of the car and nearly backed into the mailbox.

  “Zane!” I shouted, rolling down my window to scold the neighbor boy, “I told you not to call me Freddy! And what are you doing out this late?”

  “Did you know your car antenna isn’t functioning properly?” He asked, flicking the antenna and giving me a toothy grin. “You should get that fixed. Or I could fix it.”

  “You could fix it?”

  “Yeah, I do it for my dad all the time. It’s easy peasy.”

  I shook my head. “Um, maybe another time.”

  Zane leaned in closer, like he was sharing a secret. “It’s kind of important.”

  I stared at the precocious eleven year old, trying to make sense of his behavior. “Okay, you can do it this weekend.”

  “Hm. There’s a million things that could happen between now and this weekend,” Zane responded.