Two Peas in a Pod

by Sarah Mlynowski

  Not exactly Prince Charming.

  More rain!” Jonah says, looking out the window of the dining room. We just finished dinner. Lawrence and Minerva have already gone to bed, and the maids are tidying up in the kitchen.

  It had better not rain tomorrow for the contest. I have three rounds planned. And rain would ruin everything.

  Tap. Tap-tap.

  “Abby, do you hear that?” Jonah asks.

  I listen closely. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

  “Sounds like someone is knocking at the front door,” I say. Or tapping, really. “Should we ask Belly to get it?”

  “Nah, let’s see who it is!” Jonah says, jumping to his feet. He jogs out of the dining room, Prince running behind him. I follow them.

  There is another series of taps. Yep, they’re definitely coming from the front door. Jonah pulls it open.

  A soaking wet teenage girl is standing there. Her long blond hair is plastered to her cheeks and thin shoulders.

  “Hello,” she says. “I got caught in the rain. Can I please come in?”

  “Of course,” I say. I pull the door wide open and she steps inside. “Are you here about the contest? It doesn’t start until tomorrow.” I guess being early shows initiative.

  She looks at me, confused. “Contest?” she says.

  Minerva, Lawrence, and Belly appear in the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” Minerva asks.

  “This girl came to the door soaking wet,” I explain. “She got caught in the rain.”

  “It ruined my hair. I just had it straightened, too,” the girl says.

  Lawrence lights up. “Welcome, dear,” he says to her.

  Minerva whispers something to Belly, who nods and rushes off.

  “I’m Abby and this is my brother, Jonah,” I tell the girl. “That’s our dog, Prince.” I point to Prince, who’s sitting in the corner.

  “I’m Tulip,” she says.

  “What a beautiful name,” Lawrence says. He’s still smiling. In fact, he’s practically beaming.

  Wait. A. Minute.

  Could this be the girl from the story? The one who was supposed to knock on the door and is so delicate that she feels the pea?

  “Do you live in Bog?” Lawrence asks. “I tend to know every villager, and you don’t look at all familiar.”

  Tulip shakes her head. “Nope. I’m a princess by birth, from the kingdom of Marsh. But my elder half sister took over the kingdom, and she’s kind of mean. So I’ve been wandering for days, trying to find a place to call home. I stopped in Bug but got bitten by so many mosquitoes I didn’t even bother going to the castle there.”

  She’s claiming to be a princess? This has to be the girl from the original story!

  “So you don’t have a kingdom anymore?” Jonah asks.

  Tulip shakes her head.

  Lawrence’s face is still all lit up. “A princess in need of a kingdom?” he says. “Excuse us for a moment, won’t you?” he says to Tulip. He turns to me. “Abby, a word, if I may?”

  As Minerva chats with Tulip, Jonah and I go stand with Lawrence in the corner. Lawrence looks thrilled. Honestly, he hasn’t looked this happy since I showed up. He’s practically dancing.

  “Tulip must be given the pea test,” he whispers. “She is a real princess by royal birth. Surely she’ll feel the pea.”

  “But Prince ate the smushed pea,” Jonah points out.

  I shake my head. “Lawrence, we’ve decided that the ability to feel a pea under a hundred mattresses is NOT the true test of a princess. Remember? We decided that the princess of Bog has to be a strong leader — not a delicate flower.”

  “But her name is Tulip!” Lawrence says, exasperated. “She is a flower! It is meant to be!”

  I sigh. “I’d like to confer with my brother.”

  Lawrence scowls but moves away to give me and Jonah some privacy.

  “Who do you think that girl is?” Jonah asks me.

  “She’s the princess from The Princess and the Pea! All along I’ve been hoping the real princess — from the story — would show up,” I say. “But because she never did, I came up with the contest. But now, here she is!”

  “So maybe we should give her the pea test,” Jonah says. “And see what happens. Maybe if she feels it, she’ll become princess and the story will continue the way it’s supposed to.”

  “But … but … but maybe Maryrose sent us here to change the story. Maybe we’re supposed to find someone to replace Tulip. I’m not sure Tulip is princess material.”

  “How can she not be princess material when she’s a real princess?” Jonah asks.

  “I mean princess material for Bog!” I say, wringing my hands. “Tulip doesn’t look strong at all. I bet she couldn’t do one push-up.”

  Lawrence stomps back over. “Princess Abby, with all due respect, you really should offer Tulip the princess test. The REAL test, not your made-up contest. Minerva, send Belly to fetch a pea from the kitchen.”

  “We’re all out of peas,” Minerva says, coming over to join us. “We didn’t buy more from the market stall in the village because Princess Abby and her brother don’t like peas.”

  “What’s wrong with peas?” Lawrence asks.

  “They’re gross,” Jonah explains.

  “Have you ever tried them in mac and cheese?” Minerva asks. “They’re not bad.”

  Just then, Belly returns, with a tray of cookies and a glass of milk, plus a fluffy white towel.

  “Oh, thank you ever so much,” Tulip says, drying her long golden hair with the towel. She wraps it around her shoulders. Then she accepts a glass of milk and takes a sip. “Oh, my,” she says, trembling. “The milk is so cold it almost froze my lips.”

  Minerva whispers to Belly. Belly rushes off and returns with a cup of hot tea.

  Tulip lifts the china cup to her lips and takes a sip. “Ow!” she cries. “It burned my tongue.”

  Tulip really IS a delicate flower. A delicate flower with delicate taste buds.

  “A REAL princess,” Belly whispers to herself. Her shoulders slump.

  “Bog’s princess will be strong and smart and brave and loyal!” I remind Belly. I lean close and whisper, “Delicate taste buds do not a true princess make!”

  Tulip starts fidgeting. She wrinkles up her face. “I’m so sorry,” Tulip says. “But this towel is ever so scratchy.”

  Oh, COME ON. I have been using those same towels this whole time. They are not scratchy at all! They’re super soft! They’re like cotton balls against my skin.

  “And could someone swap out the rug in this hallway for one with softer fibers?” Tulip asks. “The soles of my feet are burning.”

  Oh, brother.

  Lawrence grins from ear to ear. “Of course, dear! Belly, bring up a softer rug at once.”

  “Right away, sir,” Belly says, and dashes off.

  Talk about picky. And delicate. She’s like Penny times a million. No way can she lead a kingdom. No way!

  “I think we should just give her the crown,” Lawrence says to me quietly.

  “Absolutely not,” I say, feeling firm. “She’s welcome to enter the contest along with everyone else.”

  Lawrence frowns.

  “What is all this talk of a contest?” Tulip asks, running her fingers through her hair.

  I explain about tomorrow’s contest to find the next princess of Bog.

  Tulip sighs. Loudly. Then she seems lost in thought for a moment and her eyes brighten. “Wait. Yes, I’d like to enter the contest.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “It’s going to be hard.”

  She lifts her chin. “I’m sure.”

  Fine. She probably won’t pass and then she’ll have to move on. Buh-bye, Princess Petals.

  Lawrence grins again. “I’m sure you’ll be crowned in no time.”

  “I’d better get some rest,” Tulip says. “I’ll need all my strength for tomorrow.”

  “Give her Jonah’s previous bed in the double room,” Lawren
ce says. “The one with the many mattresses. And we’ll see what happens.”

  I pull him aside. “No,” I say. “Absolutely not. It proves nothing! I couldn’t sleep and I am not a princess. You have to give the story a rest.”

  He smirks. “A rest?”

  “You know what I mean. Where did the story even come from? Did you make it up?”

  “No!” he scoffs. “I didn’t make it up. I heard it from a reputable source!”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t remember!”

  He totally made it up.

  “She is not taking the test,” I say. “And that’s that.”

  “Fine,” he grumbles. “As you wish.” He marches off toward his office.

  “I only sleep on satin sheets,” Tulip says as she follows Belly. “I hope that’s not a problem. And I’ll need a sleep mask, of course.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Abby,” Jonah whispers. “Aren’t you a little curious to see how Tulip would do on the pea test?”

  “No!”

  “Just a little?”

  I hesitate. “Well …”

  Jonah laughs. “I knew it!”

  I laugh, too. “But Minerva said the kitchen is out of peas.”

  Jonah frowns. “True. But I have three M&M’s left …”

  “Three gross, melty, smashed, and cracked ones,” I tell him. “And if you put one under a mattress, you can’t eat it.”

  He smiles. “We’ll see.”

  We open the door to Tulip’s room. She is in the adjoining bathroom, washing up.

  “Put the M&M under the bottom mattress,” I whisper to Jonah.

  My brother nods and darts off, slipping the M&M right under the very bottom mattress.

  Meanwhile, Prince climbs up the ladder of my old bed in the room, and jumps on the top mattress.

  “No, Prince,” I say.

  The bed starts to shake. Then I notice. There’s a slight purple tinge glowing right up from the middle of the mattress.

  “Jonah!” I whisper. “I think my old bed might be the portal back home!”

  Jonah’s eyes widen. “Awesome!”

  “I’m ready to slumber now,” Tulip says, coming out of the bathroom. “Can you remove your animal from my room? I’m allergic to pets.”

  “All pets?” Jonah asks.

  “Yes,” she says. “All.”

  Humph.

  Belly steps in.

  “Leave my ladder,” Tulip tells her. “I don’t like to feel trapped.”

  Belly nods and backs away.

  If only I’d thought to say the same thing.

  Tulip climbs up to the very top mattress, puts on her sleep mask, and lies down.

  “Come on, boy,” I say to Prince, then turn back to Tulip. “Tulip? Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes?”

  “Aren’t you scared to sleep so high up?” I ask.

  “Scared? Of course not. I prefer sleeping this high up. It keeps me away from any dirt on the ground. Good night.”

  She looks perfectly comfortable. I bet she sleeps like a baby.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  “Come in?” I say groggily. It’s the middle of the night.

  “Ugh!” Tulip says, stepping into my room. “There’s something wrong with my bed! I can’t get comfortable! It’s almost like there’s a pile of bricks underneath the mattresses.”

  Seriously? The princess test works?

  “Why don’t you try counting sheep?” I suggest.

  “I don’t like all that baa-ing,” she says.

  “How about alligators?” I ask. They’re pretty silent. Silent and deadly.

  “I’ll try,” she says. “Thanks.”

  She disappears.

  I have to know. Is it the M&M?

  I wait for Tulip to go back to her room, and then sneak down the hall after her.

  “What’s happening?” Jonah asks, suddenly behind me.

  “Why are you up?” I ask.

  “I heard Tulip. What’s wrong with her?”

  “She can’t sleep!” I sigh. “I was going to take out the M&M and see if that actually makes a difference.”

  “I’ll get it,” he says.

  “You will, won’t you?”

  We both know what he’s planning to do with the M&M.

  We sneak inside her room. Tulip is back on her top mattress. And she’s counting. Out loud. “One alligator. Two alligators. Three alligators.”

  Jonah creeps over. He sticks his right arm under the bottom mattress. Then he pulls out the M&M and pops it into his mouth.

  Ewww.

  I look up at Tulip. A second ago, she was up to thirty-seven alligators and sounding really annoyed and agitated.

  Suddenly, she’s fast asleep.

  Seriously?

  Does that mean that the story is real? Is she the real princess?

  And does that mean … that she should be the princess of Bog?

  In the morning, a bunch of girls are standing on the grass in front of the castle. My princess contestants have arrived!

  And standing right in the center of them is … Tulip. She’s wearing a yellow sundress with spiky heels that keep sinking into the ground.

  I call her over. “Listen, Tulip,” I say, my stomach flip-flopping. “I know you’re a real princess and maybe it’s only fair that you be crowned princess of Bog. I think you’re supposed to be the princess, even if you’re not what we’re looking for.”

  She smiles. “No, I WANT to enter the contest. Fair and square. I want to prove something to myself.”

  What does she want to prove? She might pass the IQ test, but there’s no way she’ll pass the bravery test. And I can’t really tell if she’s kind or not. We’ll see.

  Tulip hurries back into place. Minerva is walking among the girls, taking a head count.

  “Twenty-one girls!” she says.

  That’s SO MANY potential princesses.

  One by one, Minerva registers them for the contest.

  “Okay, all but one girl is the right age,” Minerva says to me. I see a little girl frowning and kicking a rock.

  “No fair that seven is too young,” she says, making a muscle with her arm. “I’m sooo strong! And I’m the best at science in my grade!”

  “Don’t worry, little sis,” an older girl says to her. “If I win, you can be my second-in-command.”

  “Really?” the girl asks, beaming. “Awesome!”

  I personally wouldn’t be so happy to be second-in-command, but maybe that’s just me.

  Belly hands me a megaphone.

  “You think of everything, Belly. Thanks!” I turn to the crowd. “Okay, girls,” I shout. “The first round of our contest is an IQ test!”

  Wendy, the tall, strong girl we met yesterday, says, “IQ stands for ‘intelligence quotient.’ It basically measures how smart you are.”

  I pass the megaphone to Ms. Jingle, who is standing beside me.

  “That’s exactly right,” the teacher says. “But before we begin this round, I want to make one thing clear.”

  Everyone continues talking.

  She lifts her hand and snaps twice.

  Everyone quiets down. Good trick!

  “If you don’t do well on this test,” she says, “it doesn’t mean you’re not smart. It just means you don’t do well on these kinds of tests. Some people are book smart. Some people are people smart. Some people are music smart. Some people are swamp smart. There are all different kinds of intelligence. But this is the best I could come up with in such a short time, and we have to narrow down our group. So good luck, everyone!”

  Minerva takes the megaphone next. “Okay, girls, follow me into the castle library, where desks have been set up for you.”

  We all head into the castle. It’s so nice and cool compared to outside. The maids stand in each corner, fanning the air with palm fronds. This place is obsessed with palm fronds.

  The library is right off the Great Hall. It’s a large room lined with
leather-bound books. Twenty desks are set up in rows, all facing a large desk at the front where Ms. Jingle takes a seat. As each girl enters the library, she’s handed a test and a pencil. Minerva gives Jonah the job of walking around with extra pencils and a sharpener, just in case.

  I flip through the test as the girls sit down at their desks. Wow — it’s five pages long. The first page is math and measurements. One question says: About how wide would you say Bog Swamp is? (A) Two inches wide. (B) One foot wide. (C) Fifty-two feet wide. (D) Two thousand three hundred feet wide.

  I glance at the paper of a tall girl with spiky brown hair. She’s circled A. Two inches wide.

  Oof. Her hand is more than two inches wide. Her foot is more than two inches wide.

  I doubt she’s going to make it to the next round. I look around the room and wait for the girls to finish. Tulip is hunched over the test, counting on her fingers. I almost feel bad for her. But when she fails, Bog will get its rightful princess — a real leader.

  I walk to the back of the room — and gasp.

  Belly is sitting at a desk, staring in total concentration at a question. And she’s on page five already!

  “You’re entering the contest?” I whisper to Belly. I’m shocked. She seems too quiet to be a leader.

  She fills in the last answer of the test and glances up at me. “Oh, I’m not entering,” she says, turning her test back to the first page. “I just took it for fun. You had one extra seat.”

  I tilt my head. “For fun? A five-page test?”

  “I like tests,” she says. “But I’m not a princess! I could never be a princess. I’m just a maid.” She crumples up her test, runs to the front of the room, and throws her test in the garbage can.

  “No, Belly!” I whisper, but she’s already gone.

  “Ugh, this test is too long,” the girl sitting next to Belly’s empty seat mutters. “Today is my day off! And this is boring.” She draws an X on the top page of the test and gets up and follows Belly out the door.

  Finally, after an hour passes, Ms. Jingle announces that time is up.

  There are groans. There are cheers. The remaining girls walk up to Ms. Jingle and hand her their tests. Ms. Jingle, Minerva, and I walk the girls out into the hallway.

  “If you wait here,” Ms. Jingle says to the girls, “I’ll let you know the names of the finalists in about fifteen minutes.”