Prince Amos

by Gary Paulsen

  Mrs. Wormwood’s mouth fell open.

  Dunc took the prince’s arm and pulled him inside the motel room. “Uh—he means we’re real sorry, Mrs. Wormwood. We won’t let it happen again.”

  The prince brushed an imaginary crumb off his sleeve. “What a difficult person.”

  Dunc scratched his head. “I think you better have a crash course in being Amos, or we could be in some serious trouble here.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Well, it’s just that Amos is a little more laid back. You know, less formal.”

  “I see. Is there anything else?”

  “You’ve got to quit being so neat. Amos is sort of casual—in a sloppy kind of way.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Let me show you.” Dunc recombed the prince’s hair so that it was flat on one side and stood up on the other. Then he took Amos’s suit jacket, wadded it up, and sat on it.

  The prince put it on and looked at himself in the mirror. “Your friend certainly has strange taste.”

  Amos was watching the big-screen TV in the penthouse. He had already ordered room service three times and was thinking about calling them again.

  “Ahem.” Charles cleared his throat. “I hate to bother you, sir. But His Highness has an engagement in the Crystal Room at Wilshire Park in one hour. I think you should dress.”

  Amos looked down at himself. “I am dressed. This is the suit Gus had on. What’s wrong with it?”

  “The engagement will require a more formal attire, sir. I have your clothes laid out for you in the dressing room.”

  Amos pressed the off button on the remote control. “I guess it won’t hurt me to change clothes.”

  He moved to the dressing room. Charles followed. Amos looked at him. “Did you leave something in here?”

  “No, sir. I’m here to assist you.”

  “I don’t know how things are in your country, Chuck, but where I come from, a guy my age dresses himself.”

  Charles bowed. “As you wish, sir. I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

  Amos looked at the clothes lying on the couch. He picked up a piece of gold braid. “How hard can it be?”

  Charles coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. “Might I suggest, sir, that you not wear your cummerbund on your head? It goes around the waist.”

  Amos pulled it off his head. “It’s a belt? I would never have guessed! I figured it was either a hat or a slingshot.”

  “May I?” Charles fastened the black elastic piece around Amos’s waist. “Might I also suggest that you comb your hair before we depart?”

  Amos touched his hair. “I hate to break it to you, Chuck, but I already combed it.”

  Charles sighed. “Yes, sir. Would you mind terribly if I touched it up a bit?”

  “You can try.”

  Twenty-five minutes and a jar of hair grease later, Amos was finally ready.

  “There.” Charles was obviously pleased with himself. “No one would ever guess you’re not the prince.”

  Amos blew a big pink bubble. It popped and stuck all over his face. “I told Dunc this prince business would be a cinch.”

  Charles closed his eyes. “The car is waiting.”

  On the way to the Crystal Room, Charles explained Amos’s duties. He would be the guest of honor at a reception given by the Daughters of Independence. He would be introduced to several ladies and their husbands. All he had to do was nod his head, shake hands, and say something appropriate—like good afternoon.

  They were met at the door by a rather large woman wearing a formal gown and a sparkling tiara in her gray hair. She curtsied and said, “Ooh, Your Highness, we are so-oo delighted to have you.”

  Amos stuck out his hand. “Thanks, lady. I’m glad you asked me. It’s not every day you get invited to a swank deal like this one.”

  The woman looked confused. “Uh, yes—well, please follow me, Your Highness.”

  She led him to the front of an elegantly furnished room. A long line of people had formed, waiting to meet him.

  Amos nodded, said good afternoon, and shook one hundred and sixty-three hands. By the end, his hand felt like a ripe watermelon. It was swollen to three times its normal size.

  Charles leaned over. “You’re doing very well, sir.”

  Amos glared at him. “You didn’t tell me I had to shake hands with everybody in the city.”

  The next woman curtsied, and Amos nodded, but he put his hand in his pocket.

  A reporter was waiting at the end of the receiving line along with his cameraman. They flashed a couple of pictures and asked if the prince would be willing to answer a few questions.

  “His Highness is quite fatigued. We will be leaving for the hotel at once.” Charles took Amos’s arm and propelled him toward the door.

  The reporter followed. “I understand that Your Highness actually hates being in the United States and is rushing through this goodwill tour in an effort to return home as soon as possible?”

  Amos stopped and turned. “I don’t know where you get your information, bud, but I can honestly say that I’d rather be in the good old U.S. than anywhere else in the world.”

  The reporter was writing furiously. “Then why have you avoided most of your appointments with our state legislature?”

  “Hey. You’ve got it backward. From what I hear, those guys in the capitol don’t want to talk to me.” Amos shrugged. “What can I say?”

  Charles took his arm again and whispered, “I think you’ve said quite enough.”

  Dunc passed the prince in the hall of the capitol. “How’s it going, Gus?”

  “Not well. By now, I had hoped to locate some evidence of the conspiracy. So far, all I’ve done is run for coffee. How about you?”

  “I’m on my way to Senator Grafter’s office. He forgot his briefcase, and I have to get it for him. You can come with me if you want.”

  The prince looked relieved. “It sounds better than going for more coffee.”

  The senator’s secretary unlocked the door. “Let me know when you boys are through in there. He likes to keep it locked up tight.”

  Dunc looked around. “The senator thought he left his briefcase on the floor by the coatrack. But I don’t see it, do you?”

  The prince walked around the desk. “Here it is.” He picked up the leather case and started back around. The latch flew open, and papers went everywhere.

  Dunc rubbed his chin. “You know, Gus, you and Amos may be more alike than you realize.”

  The prince knelt and started putting things back into the case. One of the papers caught his attention. “Dunc, look at this.”

  Dunc scanned the paper. “Now, why would a state senator have a letter in his briefcase about a possible oil strike in Moldavia?”

  The secretary opened the door. “Are you boys having trouble?”

  “No, ma’am. We just had a little accident. We’ll have it picked up in no time.” Dunc started stuffing things back into the briefcase.

  “Here, I’ll do that.” The secretary picked up a handful of the papers. “Senator Grafter sent word that he found the document he was looking for. He doesn’t need his briefcase after all.”

  The prince shot Dunc a worried look.

  Dunc reached over to help straighten the rest of the papers. “I was just wondering. What does the senator do when he’s not here? I mean, what kind of job does he have?”

  The secretary looked surprised. “At one time he was the president of his own oil company. Everyone knows that. But he resigned when he was elected senator, so there wouldn’t be any conflict of interest. Now he completely devotes himself to serving the people who elected him.”

  “That’s very interesting.” Dunc headed for the door. “Well, we better get back. The senator may need us.”

  They walked down the hall and ducked into the nearest rest room. Dunc checked to make sure no one was listening. “I’d say we now have a major suspect.”

&n
bsp; The prince nodded. “Senator Grafter. It looks as if he’s after our new oil strike. But what I don’t understand is, why is he trying to discredit me in the bargain?”

  Dunc tapped his chin. “Does your father have any enemies?”

  “I’m sure he does. Most monarchs do. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t think the senator is working alone. Someone from your country has to be feeding him information. Someone who wants to make you and your father look bad.”

  The prince drew himself to attention. “I’ll have my country’s special police force investigate this right away.”

  “Great. In the meantime we’ll keep an eye on Senator Grafter.”

  “I wonder if we should call and check on Amos?” the prince asked.

  Dunc smiled. “Amos isn’t really good on phones. No, I think it would be better if we checked on him in person.”

  The doorbell rang. Amos waited for Charles to answer it. It rang again.

  “Might as well make myself useful.” Amos turned down the video game on the big-screen television and opened the door.

  A woman wearing a brown fur around her neck bustled in. She planted a gushy kiss on Amos’s cheek. “How are you, my dear nephew? Harold and I were bored, so we thought we’d drop in for a visit.”

  Amos wiped the wet kiss off his face. A boy a few years older than Amos marched in through the door behind the woman. He stood so straight and his nose was stuck so far in the air, Amos wondered how he could see where he was going. Three porters carrying bags and pushing carts with trunks on them followed the boy.

  Charles stepped in from the kitchen. He was obviously not expecting them. “Lady Sophie, how … nice to see you. May I take your coat?”

  “Of course you may take my coat, idiot. Do you think I want to wear it all day?” She threw the fur into Charles’s arms.

  Harold noticed the video game on the television. “What’s this? Taken to playing children’s games, Gustav? I would think a prince would have more important matters to attend to.”

  Amos looked at Charles. “I need to see you in the kitchen.”

  “Certainly, Your Highness.”

  Amos closed the door. “Who are these people?”

  “They’re your relatives. That is, they’re Prince Gustav’s relatives. His aunt Sophie and his first cousin Harold.”

  “Can we get rid of them?”

  “I’m afraid it would be very bad form to ask them to leave. They might suspect something.”

  Amos sulked. “Okay, but I’m going to finish my game. I didn’t rack up all those points for nothing.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  The doorbell rang, and Charles started for it. Amos stopped him. “I’ll get it. You keep the relatives happy.”

  Sophie gave Amos a phony smile as he walked past. He pulled the door open. Dunc and the prince tried to step in. Amos’s eyes widened, and he slammed the door. He looked at Sophie. “Room service. They have the wrong room.”

  The doorbell rang again. “I guess those guys just can’t take no for an answer,” Amos said. “I better go out and have a little talk with them.”

  He opened the door just wide enough to ease his body through and pulled it shut behind him.

  “Are you crazy?” Dunc started. “You nearly—”

  Amos held up his hand. “We’ve got trouble. The relatives from back home are here. Aunt Sophie and Cousin Harold. From the looks of their suitcases, I’d say they’re planning on staying awhile. Maybe we better switch back while there’s still time.”

  The prince patted Amos’s shoulder. “It won’t be long now. I’m expecting an important call at your motel room from my chief security officer. Then we should be able to clear up this whole matter.”

  “What am I supposed to do with them?” Amos pointed at the penthouse door.

  The prince grinned. “Do what I do—ignore them.”

  “You better get back inside before they get suspicious.” Dunc moved to the elevator. “We’ll get back to you as soon as we know anything.”

  Amos watched the elevator doors close. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Harold was turning off the television.

  “What are you doing?” Amos yelled. “Do you realize it took me a full hour to get that score?”

  “Surely you’re joking,” Harold sneered. “No one with any intelligence would waste their time with something as moronic as this.”

  “Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that.” Amos reached for the remote control. “I challenge you to a duel.”

  Charles turned on the overhead light in the living room. “Sir, it’s two o’clock in the morning. You have an appointment in a few hours.”

  “Hold on one minute.… Yes! I win again.” Amos stood up and stretched. He looked at his list of winnings. “Okay, Harold, time to pay up. You owe me your foxhunting horse, your motorcycle, your new white limousine, and your estate in Suffork. I’ll take an IOU.”

  Harold scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Amos. “I can’t believe I let you sucker me into playing this stupid game.”

  Amos gave the paper to Charles. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Harold. Why don’t you just admit you were up against the best and didn’t have a chance?”

  Harold put his nose in the air and stomped off to his room.

  The corners of Charles’s mouth turned up slightly. “Well done, sir.”

  “Thanks. I guess I better get some sleep. What’s on the schedule for today?”

  “I’ll wake you at seven. We are visiting a group of schoolchildren.”

  Amos yawned. “I can handle that. Good night.”

  Seven o’clock came before Amos thought it had a right to. Charles called him, shook him, and finally ended up dragging him out of bed.

  Amos stumbled into the kitchen, wearing the prince’s pajamas. His hair stood up. He could open only one eye, and even it was having trouble.

  Sophie was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. She studied Amos over the top of the paper as a cat studies a mouse. “You seem different, nephew. I can’t put my finger on it, but something isn’t right.”

  Charles brought Amos’s breakfast. “The United States has had a quite an effect on His Highness.”

  “So I see.” She held up the front page. “You told a reporter you’d rather be here than anywhere else in the world. Does that include your own country?”

  Amos rubbed his eyes and looked at the picture. “Hey, that’s a good likeness. I’ve always wanted to be on the front page. Wait until I show the guys back home.”

  Charles cleared his throat. “It’s time to get dressed for your appointment, Your Highness. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Right.” Amos slid off the chair and headed for his room. “I think I’ve got the hang of it, Chuck. I’ll call you if I have trouble with that slingshot thing.”

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she watched him leave the room.

  Amos managed his clothes a little better this time. The only thing Charles had to do was slick down his hair.

  The chauffeur held open the door of the car while Charles and Amos stepped inside. Amos plopped on the leather seat. “What a relief to get away from that Sophie! How does the prince stand her?”

  “The prince rarely has any contact with her. There have been hard feelings between the two families. Sophie is married to the king’s brother, and for a while it looked as if her son, Harold, would be the heir to the throne. But then Prince Gustav was born and dashed her hopes. She has always resented him.”

  The car stopped in front of the capitol building. Amos started to get out. “I forgot to ask. What am I supposed to say to these little kids?”

  Charles straightened Amos’s tie. “Nod your head, shake hands, and—”

  “I know,” Amos said. “Say something appropriate—like good afternoon.”

  Charles smiled. “Very good, sir. Only it’s morning.”

  “Whatever.” Amos looked out the window. A familiar figure approached the car. />
  “Quick, hide!” Amos ducked down in the seat. “That’s my teacher from school.”

  Mrs. Wormwood knocked on the car window. “Excuse me, Prince Gustav. The students are waiting.” She knocked again. “Yoo-hoo, Prince.”

  Amos slid into the floor. “If she sees me, we’re dead meat.”

  “May I offer a suggestion, sir?”

  “Only if it has to do with catching a quick plane to Mexico.”

  “I think you should go through with it. She won’t know you. You’ve fooled everyone so far—even the prince’s own relatives.”

  Amos sat up. A little. “You don’t know this woman. She has radar or something. Once, in the back of the room, Jimmy Farrel was making this pile of spit wads while she had her back turned. Out of the blue she stopped, went straight to Jimmy’s desk, and made him eat every one of them. It was spooky.”

  Charles watched Mrs. Wormwood beat on the window. “I suppose we could cancel. But it wouldn’t do the prince’s reputation any good.”

  “You don’t understand,” Amos said. “If she catches me, she’ll send what’s left of me home in an envelope.”

  “Very well, sir. We’ll call it off. After all, it’s not your country or your reputation that some ruthless person is attempting to ruin. I can see why you would want to put your own personal problems before the welfare of an entire country.”

  Amos groaned. “Oh, all right, I’ll do it. But Gus better appreciate this.”

  Charles signaled the chauffeur, who came around and opened the door for them.

  Amos stepped out. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Mrs. Wormwood actually curtsied. He leaned over to Charles. “This definitely has possibilities.”

  She led them to the courtyard on the side of the building. Amos spotted Dunc and the prince waiting in the back of the line to shake his hand. The prince pulled Amos’s ball cap down low. Dunc winked at him and grinned from ear to ear.

  Amos played his part to perfection.

  Almost.

  He shook hands and said good morning to everyone in line until …

  Melissa.