Imperfect Princess (Modern Princess Collection Book 1)

by Sonya Jesus

  Hell, Ledger never liked me before. Why would he start now?

  For a split second this morning, I thought Kai had recognized me, but twenty-one-year-old Kai Madison probably didn’t even know who I was. I don’t know why I thought I could waltz right up to him and everything would magically kick into place. Obviously, I did not think this part through.

  In my defense, my goal was to see Kai again, not exactly to talk to him.

  I sink to the floor, my back sliding down the wall as I hold the script in my hand. I told Corbin I’d read it, but I’ve only gotten past the first page. There’s a tragedy being played out in my head at the moment. Focusing seems to be a challenge.

  “I miss you,” I confess to the air. I sprawl out on my back, staring at the lights and cords above me, and press the script to my chest. My gaze flickers to the right, and I capture my reflection in one of the snow-covered mirrors.

  I was still me. Still imperfect on the inside. “Still Thorn.”

  “Who is Thorn?” A deep voice comes from just above my head, but it isn’t Kai’s.

  I slowly open my eyes to find Corbin standing over me. He’s been nothing but nice to me in person and online, minus the D, and I like having an ally in this school. “Weren’t you going to dinner?”

  “I had a quick bite.” The words come out awkward, like neither of us were expecting company and are unsure of how to kick someone out of a public space. He takes a seat, right next to my face. “You stayed.”

  The obvious statement invites no room for question, so I drag my body to the side. The backs of my bare legs are stuck to the hardwood floors, so in a skirt, I peel my ass off the floor yoga-style, which looks like an awkward pelvic thrust and slide.

  Not that I had ever done any thrusting in my life, unless the sporadic movement of a seizure can be considered thrusting.

  I wince once I’m far enough away from him and sit up, waiting for the stupid joke about sticky thighs or chub glue. “It’s been a long day,” I admit as he watches my peculiar mannerisms and fiddles with a thin blue highlighter balanced on his ear. Virginal and awkward. Devastated and damaged. That’s all me.

  “Because of Jumping Joe’s this morning?” He opens his satchel and leans against a big boulder that’s half-painted in white with glued cotton. “You were kind of silent after that.”

  I smile nervously. “I didn’t really have much to say. I was busy admiring your awesome tour guide tactics.”

  “Well, I do excel at most things.”

  Eh… was that flirting? Most of my relationship experience has been compiled from Netflix without the chill part. “C-ooooo-l.” I stretch the word out. By the fifth ‘o’ I realize I’m boy-challenged and stupid-prone.

  “Yeah… sometimes it is.” He smirks and points to the script he had given me with the invite to audition for the main role. His villain. “How’s the reading going?” He offers me a new topic of conversation.

  “I have not read very much,” I confess at the risk of offending him. “I got distracted by all the sparkly things on the set.”

  “Imagining yourself sitting on her throne?”

  “You really want me to play the Snow Queen?”

  He smiles wickedly and winks. “When I wrote her part, in my head, she looked like you, and I think you can really help bring her to life. She’s socially awkward and kind of quiet at first.”

  “Umm. Thanks?” I fumble through the pages nervously. “But she’s the villain, right?”

  “Yeah, villains always have the best roles.” He laughs and turns to one of the pages. “Read the highlighted section.”

  I walk over to him and read the three lines, gasping in the process. “So, in your head, I look like a serial killer?”

  “My thesis was to put a modern twist on a classic.”

  “Right… blame your thesis.”

  We both chuckle at my sarcasm.

  “To be honest, Vanessa Voight had wanted the lead role, but then you blessed my world.” He winks at the sugary tone. “And I can’t think of anyone else bringing my thoughts to life. I might have already ordered you something.”

  “Like a prop gun?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Your thoughts are kind of messed up. What makes you think I can play the part of a serial killer?”

  “Well, the Snow Queen has blonde, whitish hair, almost like yours, blue eyes, and a killer body.” He pauses and looks at me, then realizes what he said. “No pun intended, but I mean she does lure guys back to her ice castle, and she’s pretty hot.”

  I blush, unsure of whether he’s flirting with me or saying I look like a killer. I busy my hands as I answer, “Well, then she’d melt the ice.” I flip through the clipped pages, pretending to read some of the highlighted parts. When I look up, I find his lips smashed together and his eyes squinted in amusement.

  “What?”

  “Are you saying my character is flawed?”

  I swallow hard and shut the pages, handing them back to him. “All the best characters are flawed, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know… Are you flawed, Rose?”

  My words get trapped inside my head. Bringing them out in cohesive sentences is a trait I don’t possess at the moment.

  “Tell me about you. What’s your character arc? Where does your place of comfort start?”

  “Not here,” I choke out, a little nervously. The stunned, sad look on his face urges me to reformulate my answer. “Getting acclimated at CamU hasn’t been the easiest. Hence, this morning.”

  But that’s my place of comfort: Kai.

  “You’ve only been on campus for two days, and Madison’s an asshole most days. I wouldn’t worry about what he says. You’ll probably be forgotten by tonight.”

  That’s an awful thing to say. I smile sadly. “Glad I’m forgettable.”

  “Shit, that’s not what I meant. You are most definitely unforgettable. I give it a couple of days before guys start asking around for you, which kind of sucks.”

  “Sucks, why?”

  “Because I like being your only friend.”

  My face falls flat. Kai’s my friend. Was.

  “Damn…” He stretches out the word and plops the highlighter into his bag with a loud sigh. “Your face is very expressive. Now I feel like shit. I did not mean that as an insult.”

  “I didn’t take it as one. I’m used to not having many friends.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Homeschooled. I had sur—I was sick a lot so I didn’t have much connection with people my age.”

  “No boyfriend?”

  “Nope.” I pop the word. No boyfriend. No best friend. No sex. My love life stopped at fifteen. Then again, it had only started when I had met Kai.

  “So, you are flawed.” He quickly corrects himself, “I mean, I’m flawed too. Fitting in at CamU isn’t the easiest when you aren’t part of the elite one percent.”

  I force a smile. “Hmm.”

  “Maybe we can be flawed and lonely together?” He shuts his eyes and holds a finger out in the air. “Let me try that again: As friends … because I’m an awesome friend.” He was going to say something else, but for a guy who spends a lot of time with words, he kind of sucks with the whole explaining thing.

  So, I put him out of his misery. “I’d like that, friend.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Hmm?” People knowing a lot about me isn’t a good thing.

  “Do you know Kai Madison? You were kind of looking at him like you did.”

  I smile. “No, but I’ve heard him play. On the Internet.”

  “He any good?”

  “Why?” I point toward the script. “Don’t tell me this is a musical.”

  He throws his head back in laughter. “I’ll take it into consideration, but I think this is a no-lyrics-necessary kind of script. Dark and just twisted enough to get your goosebumps going. Of course, if I can find the right girl to play the part.” One of his brows lifts, and he scooches ov
er to me. “Just audition. You may be a horrible actress, and I’ll have to let you down easy. Plus, you’d look really pretty on my set.”

  “It is a pretty set. So you make settings and then find the actors?”

  “Pretty unconventional, but the school always photographs the main scene to advertise with flyers and posters. You may have seen them splattered around campus.”

  I had. “I’m sure there are other actresses who would love to be the lead in your play. What happened to Vanessa? I get the feeling she’d play a wicked killer.”

  He snorts at my seriousness. “You know, she’d probably take that as a compliment, but maybe don’t risk pissing off the girl sleeping in the next room.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “She can audition all she wants. She’s not a theater major. She wants this part because of her handle on social media. She sees it as a publicity stunt. She’ll want to take over my set, my play...”

  “Did she say all of this?”

  “No, but I’m a smart person. It’s not hard to interpret motive when she plasters it all over social media. You know, she snuck in here once to take a picture, and we had to have this place locked down. As of now, only people working on the set have access. I put in your request, so you should be able to come in.”

  “Thanks, but I haven’t officially agreed to be part of your play.” Not sure what the DEA would say about it.

  “I hope you do… I rather have someone I can tolerate.”

  Snorting through my nose, I bob my head. “Sounds like you know her.”

  “I know a lot of people.” He winks at me. “She’s one I can do without.”

  “I haven’t met her yet. Officially.”

  “You’re not missing anything.” He stands up, bringing his satchel with him. “So, you’ll audition? You can add the magic that it needs.”

  I sigh loudly and glance around the set for the modern version of The Snow Queen. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, let me show you where all the nice people hang out on Thursday nights.”

  “Maybe later?” I reach into my pocket and hold out the cell phone I barely ever use. “I’ve got a blind date with the heiress.”

  He grimaces. “Yikes. Did you give her your number?”

  “No, but when I got my room placement, they gave me her contact information. I’m sure they did the same with her.”

  “So, she knew you were coming?”

  “Part of the reason why this is so much fun.” I mock excitement by swinging my arm around like a be-all-you-can-be mascot. “I’m not looking forward to meeting her, and I wouldn’t mind a buffer… Want to come with me, friend?”

  “I’ve already met Vanessa,” he points out again.

  “But I haven’t,” I offer cautiously. I’ve never really asked someone to go with me somewhere. Even with Kai, he just kind of showed up. “I’m kind of nervous.”

  He glances at his bag and back at me. “I’ve got a lot of work to do and reports to send in.”

  “I don’t even know where Gepetto’s is. She just summoned me.” I hold out my phone for him to see the message that read: Dinner at Gepetto’s. Six. Do not make me wait.

  He reads it and swipes one of the scripts lazily left on the floor. “Sounds like she’s super excited to see you.”

  “Funny,” I say sarcastically, tucking my phone back into my pocket. “I could really use a friend for moral support. And I mean, a tour guide to show me the way.”

  He bobs his head back and forth and rolls the scripts in his hand, then points at me with it. “You’re auditioning for my play.”

  I roll my eyes and take the script. “I’ll consider being your killer if you save me tonight.”

  “Sounds like a deal worth making.”

  “You don’t sound like the Devil or anything.”

  He brushes past me, tapping his shoulder to mine, and heads down the stairs. “I never said I was the good guy. Just the playwright.”

  “Is that your major?”

  “At CamU, Ph.D. students can create their own program. Perks of the rich.”

  We step down the side stairs and head for the aisle. “Kind of like custom-order doctorates?”

  “Yeah. In undergrad, I double majored: Criminal Psychology and English.”

  “So, you decided to add theater to the list?”

  “With the way the world is, you got to be smart about the future. I don’t come from money like most of the students here. With this degree, I can write, analyze, or teach.”

  “Kind of smart.”

  “I may have a couple extra neurons up here.” He points to his brain with his blue highlighter.

  We leave the campus through the arch near Jumping Joe’s and take Imperial Boulevard toward the restaurant. Corbin points to different places, mentioning the businesses and the history of the town. Despite the rich appearance of the street, there are streets I should avoid.

  “Basically, if you stick on Imperial, you’re good. The beach side is kind of high-scale but safe. They have private beach houses along the shore. I’d avoid some of the streets behind the church. Some businesses didn’t thrive. A lot of mom-and-pop shops closed up, and a lot of shady stuff goes on down there.”

  “Shady stuff?” I echo back. “Is that code word for drug deals?”

  “It’s code word for don’t go that way.” The pitch of his voice holds a warning.

  He stops in front of the massive church. “This is the second landmark of Society Hill. The Church of Perpetual Sorrows.”

  “It’s beautiful.” I had never been sightseeing. “I love the window.”

  “It’s a smaller replica of Notre Dame’s Rose Window; they call it the Window of Sorrow.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because the center pane has a heart instead of a cross, and it’s cracked. Every time they replace it, it cracks right down the center of the window.”

  “Weird.” Like me. I take a second to admire the Church of Perpetual Sorrows, located directly across the university. The bell towers stand high, and when they chime to cue the hour, it brings a smile to my face. I’ve grown up my whole life without a faith to cling to, yet these past years I found reprieve in believing in a higher power. I’m not sure what that higher power is, but I like to believe in it.

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of weird things in this town.”

  “Like what?”

  “The Glass Room… If you see a rose in the reflection of the mirror while you're dancing, legend says you'll marry the person you're dancing with.”

  “Isn’t the place adorned with little roses all over the wall?” I remember seeing pictures in the brochures the DEA got me.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, and there’s a fireplace that leads you to the underground tunnel. The servants used to use it travel between the guards’ quarters—now JJ’s—the stables, the fields, and the church.”

  “That’s kind of cool. Are they still open?”

  “Most of them were sealed off, but there are a few in working condition.”

  I had not been told of any of this in my debriefing. “How do you know all of this?”

  “I’ve been down there before. For research. My play has a tunnel in it.”

  “Is that where the killer stuffs her bodies?” I kid.

  He chuckles, placing a hand on his stomach. “Not quite that exciting. She uses it to escape when the police come looking for her.”

  “I don’t remember there being police in Andersen’s book.”

  “Ah, do you read fairy tales?”

  “I used to.” I recall the stories from Gaspar’s book. “The dark ones are my fav.” I change the subject before he pries further. “So, what’s really down there in the tunnels? Why are they closed off?”

  “Nothing special, just lots of cobwebs and forgotten crap from the university’s younger days. Even some old furniture from the original castle. It’s easy to get lost if you don’t have a map. It’s like a maze.”

  “There’s a map of the unde
rground tunnels?”

  “Yeah, they used to host a haunted underground tour.”

  Sounds kind of creepy. “Do they still do it?”

  His eyebrow arches as he glances at me. “Why? You want to go?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been the daring kind. Mostly, I’ve been secluded these last few years.” Sometimes I get the itch to be more than life allows.

  “What if I told you that twenty years ago, some students went down there and found a burned body, would you still want to go?”

  I gasp. “Is that true?”

  He chuckles. “Probably not.”

  7

  Vita Bitch

  Thorn

  We stop in front of a building with lots of windows. It looks antique and like something right out of New Orleans. Warm orange-toned lights stream out, and potted green plants hang from the multiple ornate arches on the second-floor veranda. ‘Gepetto’s Restaurant’ is written on a large white sign extending the whole front entrance.

  “Is she meeting you on the first floor or second?” Corbin asks.

  I shrug. “The message didn’t say. What’s the difference?”

  “The first floor is bar-style food: burgers, sandwiches, fried doughnuts.” The top floor is Italian and a bit on the fancier side. It’s where people go for fancy date nights around here.”

  “I’m going to guess she’s on the first floor. I don’t think I’m her type.”

  He holds the door open for me. “Vanessa Voight’s type is a wallet with a dick.”

  “Harsh,” I blurt out but enjoy his honesty. “Are you saying Kai is rich?” I attempt to throw off my early comment. I don’t want him thinking Kai and I have a history.

  “Most everyone here is rich. Unless they have a scholarship or something. They are probably the student-workers you find on campus.”

  “And you? How can you afford a place like this?”

  “I have a stipend and a job, other than student teaching.”