Princesses Don't Become Engineers

by Aya Ling

  No. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't yawn or show any sign of boredom. She had to remember that it was already a near miracle that she was allowed to enter the University.

  When class was over, Elaine prepared to leave, but Monsieur held up a hand.

  "No recess for you, Mademoiselle. You are to sit here and retake the quiz you missed during the time you were absent. You are not to leave until the bell rings."

  "A...quiz, Monsieur?"

  "We have a vocabulary quiz every week, starting since the second week of this semester. Now take the desk here and get out your pencils."

  Elaine dreamed that James and Ari have returned to the palace for their proper wedding, but Winifred wouldn't let her out of the room until she finished fifty math problems. So she again sought escape through her window. She slipped down the tree, raced through the courtyard, and wham! She ran into the strange boy, who was carrying two bucketfuls of ice-cold water--water splashed down her face, her neck, she couldn't make it to the wedding...

  Elaine blinked water from her eyes and found herself staring at the apple-green papered ceiling. She was lying in bed, in her University cloak, and she still had her shoes on.

  A damp towel landed on her face.

  "Now you're awake," Winifred's voice came from her side, stern and unrelenting. "You've been sleeping since you returned from school, haven't you?"

  "I'll go and prepare a dinner tray," Effie offered, heading to the door. "Our princess must be worn out from her first day at school."

  Elaine dropped the towel, causing a stain on the bed sheet.

  "It's dinner time already?"

  "It's nearly bedtime."

  "Damn! Why didn't anyone wake me?"

  "I was helping out at the kitchens and Effie had laundry to do, so we couldn't come right away," Winifred said. "And stop using swear words. Yes, I know you're more like a monkey than a lady, but I can't allow the king and queen hearing the way you just talked."

  Elaine shrugged and rubbed her eyes. "Oh no!" she sprang up. "Winnie, can you be a dear and fetch me a lamp? Candles burn out so easily, and I have to have loads of homework! Oh, and can I have some coffee, please?"

  "No. Valeria and I agreed long ago that you should have no more than a cup a week."

  "Winnie! I'll fall asleep if I can't have any coffee!"

  "I'll sit right here and make sure you don't," Winifred said grimly. "The bed will be safe from you."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Elaine had imagined that once she entered the University, she'd be able to handle any difficulty, as long as she could escape Lady Wesley's princess lessons.

  Unfortunately, she found herself grudgingly admitting that it was tougher than she expected. There were many, many times she was seized with the desire to jump out of the window or hurl her textbook at the wall, just like the days she was tutored by governesses.

  They had seven subjects, nine hours of instruction every day. Classes went from eight to six, with only a ten-minute break between classes, and a half-hour for lunch.

  Rolling out of bed at seven in the morning was a daily challenge. She had to drag herself from the soft, fluffy pillows that cradled her head like a cloud, throw off the snug blankets and stagger out of the large, comfortable four-poster bed, bleary-eyed, yawning and groggy. And then she had to guard herself from falling asleep in class. She was tempted to learn from a fellow classmate who had mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open, goldfish-like, but reminded herself it wouldn't do her any good for the final exams.

  Once she got back to her bed chamber in the evening, her head feeling like it was going to explode, she had to spend more hours reviewing the lessons, previewing the next day's work, completing whatever assignments they had and preparing for weekly quizzes, tests and recitals. For a child who was used to only a few hours of instruction a day and spending the rest of the day idling away or prowling the palace grounds, the dramatic increase in study hours was overwhelming.

  But it wasn't just the ungodly hours she had to keep. She struggled with almost every class. She received an F in every Tintagelese vocabulary quiz. She stuttered and made numerous mistakes when called up to recite passages in literature. Historical dates, geographic locations and chemical elements made her head spin. She was never good at memorizing details--something her governesses had tried to make her do with books of etiquette and poetry. Math was easier--she had a natural aptitude for numbers--but lacking the head start that her classmates had, she needed extra time solving each question. A lot of extra time.

  There was only one class she excelled in from the beginning: physics. Ever since she was captivated by the lecture when she sneaked into the University in disguise, Elaine felt in her bones that this was her native subject. The professor never seemed impatient when she asked questions, even when her questions seemed ludicrous. In the physics quizzes set every two weeks, she always came ahead with an A, which made her feel better about her poor performance in other lessons.

  Then there were her fellow classmates at the University. Word got around that the princess was allowed to enroll, despite having failed miserably in the entrance exam. Everyone believed she only got in because she was the princess.

  "She'll leave eventually," a pupil whispered when Monsieur commented to the whole class that Elaine broke the record with five Fs in a row. "When she realizes that the school isn't to be taken lightly."

  "Better stay in her little gilded nest, it's much easier that way."

  And there were students who openly despised her.

  "It's all about privilege, you know," she had heard someone saying out loud. His name was Francis Wesley--Lady Wesley's nephew, in fact. "She doesn't even know how to spell 'laboratory'! I can't believe Thane let her in. He claims the University doesn't admit any students but the brightest."

  "I heard that Old Hugo had recommended her."

  "You must've heard wrong," Francis said, smirking. "Did you hear she didn't even know what a common denominator is?"

  "You can't be serious? I wish my father was the king. Must be nice to have anything you want."

  Elaine had to resist the temptation to drop a mouse in his coat pocket or rub tar over the soles of his shoes.

  Since she was 'the girl', no one wanted to befriend her. Even in the few instances that a boy picked up her book or told her which page they were on, his friends would tease him mercilessly for trying to win the princess's favor.

  But worst of all was the boys who had the nerve to leer at her. She should have known it. Despite being completely swathed in the black University cloak every day, her hair in a bun and zero effort to beautify herself, she was the only girl at school. Moreover, since she resembled her mother, who was the national beauty, unwanted stares and glances followed her everywhere she went.

  One day, when Elaine received yet another F in Tintagelese, a scolding in history, and failed her geography quiz, one boy came up to her, just when she was preparing to leave. He seemed a few years older, with large protuberant eyes and a smirking expression.

  "Hello, princess. My name is Edgar. I'm in the third year. I don't believe we've met before."

  "No, I don't think so," Elaine said, rather waspishly. She was in a grumpy mood, not to mention both hungry and sleepy.

  Edgar grinned, oblivious to her lack of attention. "Bran said that your grades have been far from satisfactory. Teachers have been talking of your incompetence in every subject."

  Elaine muttered something under her breath, something that sounded like "got to tell Bran to keep his big fat mouth shut." Aloud she said, "Not every subject. I am getting along well enough in math and physics."

  His grin did not waver. "But there's still much room for improvement. Hence, I would like to offer you my services."

  "Services?"

  "I would be happy to tutor you in the subjects you're struggling with, dear princess." He held out his hand. "Surely, you want to pass the final exams so that you can remain at the University? I'd be delighted to help y
ou. If you carry on without assistance, you will soon be kicked out of school."

  He leered at her, his gaze fixed on her face.

  Elaine took a step backwards. It was a tempting offer, but rebellion rose within her, blotting out all other emotions. She couldn't bring herself to agree, especially not when he was speaking in that infuriatingly condescending manner.

  "No. I can manage by myself, thank you."

  Edgar stiffened. His face turned red and splotchy. "But...but you can't possibly pass the exams, you're way behind now..."

  "I said I'll manage," Elaine said in her most imperial, princess-sy tone, which she imitated from hearing Princess Arianna of Linderall speak.

  Leaving him with his jaw hanging in the hallway, Elaine sped away. She couldn't get to her room fast enough.

  That conversation with Edgar kept playing in her mind, long after she returned to her room. Elaine sat on the window sill, her knees drawn up to her chin and looked outside at the stars sparkling in the velvety sky.

  She hated to admit it, but Edgar was right. She simply didn't have enough time to catch up with seven subjects. She couldn't get a decent grade in most of the quizzes now; she wasn't sure she could pass all of them by the end of the year.

  She had to do something.

  Elaine burst into the throne room, her hair flying behind her, her eyes bright. The king may not have paid much attention to her education in the past–but now in her despair, she was going to make him listen.

  He looked up as she approached, a questioning look in his eyes. His pen paused in midair, but he did not put it down.

  Elaine climbed on one of the large, handsome mahogany chairs (the chairs in the throne room were built to impress) and tried not to swing her feet.

  "Papa," she said in her most coaxing tones. "I've a favor to ask."

  "Are you thinking of quitting the University?"

  "Er...not exactly. I just need to have a few minor, insignificant conditions changed."

  The king pursed his lips. "When you phrase it that way, I doubt what you ask is insignificant."

  Elaine offered an impish grin. "I'd like to drop some of my subjects. That's all."

  "What do you mean?"

  She related her difficulties with literature and language, taking care to shovel the blame on her teachers.

  "Professor Samuel is determined that I should leave the school. He calls on me every class to read passages and answer questions, and then makes fun of me in front of the class. No other student is singled out, it's so unfair! Just because I am the girl, the princess. No matter how hard I try, he's never pleased."

  "What about your other classes?"

  "History and Tintagelese are a little better, but I could do without them. Gladly. I'm so tired of memorizing dead people's events and twisting my tongue. They eat up the time I need for math and physics and chemistry."

  The king stroked his beard. "So basically, you want to drop literature, history, and Tintagelese."

  Elaine nodded eagerly. "I can't pass the end-of-the-year exams in those subjects. But I am sure I can do well in math. Math problems are so much more fun. And the professor says I'm a whiz in physics."

  "Elaine." The king laid his hands on his knees. "I'm afraid what you ask for is impossible."

  Elaine nearly fell off her chair. "Why? Why can't I just take the subjects I like?"

  "Remember what the headmaster said when you were granted admission?"

  "Um... 'Congratulations and welcome'?"

  "You will be treated equally as everyone else. No concession will be made due to your gender or royal heritage."

  Elaine groaned. "I don't see the difference, Papa. Bran said that he could choose his own classes."

  "As a matter of fact, he could only choose half of his classes. Bran is in his third year, which means he can study a few subjects at a more specialized level. But you are only a first-year. It is required that you have a basic grounding in all subjects, in the areas of humanities and sciences."

  His tone, brusque and firm, implied that nothing more she said could influence him.

  Elaine tried another tactic.

  "Papa." She jumped off the chair and bounded over to him. Placing a hand on his arm, she looked up at him with a beseeching expression. "Please. I truly want to study math and science at the University, I'm sure I can. Professor Albert set us a problem the other day, and only a few of us, including me, knew how to solve it. But if I must take humanities, they will drag down my grades and you know what that means."

  "I'm sorry, child." The king gently pried away her fingers that clutched on his sleeve. "But you remember what the headmaster said. If you want to be a University student, you must abide by University rules."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Elaine left the throne room, seething with fury.

  She couldn't pass the end-of-the-year exam–it was simply impossible. She was already struggling with the subjects she had talent in, not to mention those that she received F after F.

  Should she swallow her pride, seek the headmaster, and tell him that she decided to leave the University? It would be fairly simple and straightforward–just a few minutes' admission of defeat–and it would be over. No more struggling to haul herself out of bed at seven in the morning, no more suffering monotonous lectures while standing in the corner, no more stress-filled evenings in which she battled with piles of homework and exam preparation. She'd probably have to tolerate a new governess, but at least she would have her afternoons gloriously free.

  But what about the excitement of unraveling a particularly sticky algebra problem, or the enlightening moment when she found the answer to physical matters she had been puzzled by? Could she really pull the wool over her eyes, once she had tasted the intellectual power of knowledge? There were so many things she would like to know about.

  Elaine twirled one long glossy braid between her fingers. Perhaps she ought to have a talk with Valeria. Her own mother, Queen Eleanor, would certainly urge her to "give up this University nonsense." Ralph was too busy and he was seldom sympathetic. He might be disappointed and even contemptuous if she confessed that she considered giving up–when she'd been so full of confidence just a month ago! Valeria, on the other hand, was a good listener. She didn't treat her like a child. Yes, it was best that she seek Valeria's counsel.

  Elaine flew down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time when she landed on the first floor. She ran into Garam on her way to the kitchens.

  "Good morning, princess." He tipped his bowler hat at her. "I was just going to the laboratories; they are developing a new medicine. Don't you have class? I thought I'd see you there."

  "Er..." Elaine couldn't very well say she skipped her lessons. "Not now."

  "Bran tells me you're having a hard time," Garam said. "Remember that the University's reputation is the work of many, many generations. It's normal that you'd find the classes difficult--I considered quitting when I was a pupil there myself. But I pulled through and it was worth the effort."

  "I'm sure it is," Elaine said blandly. The plaques in the corridor were plain evidence. But none of those University graduates had to suffer prejudice.

  Garam disappeared in the direction of the University and Elaine continued on her way.

  The kitchen was buzzing with activity as usual. Assistants washed vegetables, chopped nuts and cracked eggs, others stirred soups and stews, maids hurried to and fro, balancing plates and dishes and pots.

  Like a slippery eel, Elaine wove her way in and out of the kitchen staff, keeping an eye out for Valeria. Surprisingly, there was no sign of the Amarantan princess–considering her bountiful figure, she should be easy to spot.

  "Princess Elaine!" A stout kitchen maid, Marianne, planted herself in the way. "What are you doing here? Anything you want?"

  Elaine noted with amusement that Marianne was purposefully shielding her from the large dinner table.

  "Don't worry, Marianne," Elaine said, flashing a cheeky grin. "I'm not here to steal w
hatever food you're hiding–I have better things to do now. I only want to talk to Valeria. Is she around, or is she with the baby?"

  Marianne's expression relaxed, though she did not budge.

  "Her Highness should be in the pantry. Is she needed in the palace?"

  "Oh no. I just want to talk to her."

  Before she entered the pantry, something heavy crashed on the floor, followed by a yelp of pain.

  Alarmed, Elaine dashed inside. Valeria lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her face pale and her lips pressed together. An upturned wooden chair was nearby. She smiled weakly when Elaine approached.

  "Pretty stupid of me. I thought I could get the jar of lemon curd on the top shelf. As you can see, I failed miserably."

  "Where did you hurt yourself?" Elaine knelt beside her.

  "I...I think my leg is broken."

  "I'll get Garam now. Don't you move an inch until he arrives."

  Elaine burst into the main kitchen and yelled, "Valeria broke her leg!"

  The kitchen staff went frantic. There was a clatter of pots and pans, followed by the shuffling of feet, interlaced with gasps and utterances.

  "Oh, the poor dear! Wonder how serious it is?"

  "Can she even walk?"

  "How're we goin' to get her back to the palace?"

  "Fetch the physician, quick! Hurry!"

  A boy answered and started to move to the door.

  "Wait!" Elaine shouted, but no one paid her any attention.

  Muttering swearwords that would have shocked her governesses, Elaine jumped on a table and put both hands round her mouth.

  "GARAM'S NOT IN HIS OFFICE! HE'S IN THE LABORATORY!"

  This time, heads turned, accompanied by wordless stares. The errand boy stopped, confused.

  "What is a laboratory?"

  "I'LL GET HIM!" Elaine hopped off the table and dashed out of the kitchen. How lucky it was that she had run into Garam earlier, and that she was the only person in the kitchen who knew where the laboratory was!

  Elaine tore through the courtyard, past the stables, down a narrow alley that was a shortcut to the University.