A Princess? - Chapter Two

            Later that afternoon, I stumble upon the stairs to my bedroom. I am still thinking of that pendant. That scary pendant. And what puzzles me most is that mom didn’t even notice the pendant hanging around my neck. She didn’t even say anything that connects to it. Mom really doesn’t appreciate what she’d given me. Wait! I can’t make it. I don’t understand. Is this pendant really mine?

            I hop on my bed, throw the bag far, faraway and sink my head into my pillow. Something not nice is happening. I have to ask mom about it. I really have to.

            The minute I enter the kitchen, I can see mom on her knees, dunks her head into her palms, sobbing " I guess " and in front of her were tiny pieces of glasses, I suppose so. Like I said, something not nice is happening. See? I have great instincts.

            “Mom?” I sing. Mom isn’t going to make any movements, because once she told me that if she had smashed a glass or any of the dishes in the kitchen, she’ll kill herself for doing it. I hope mom isn’t going to kill herself this time.

            “This is the third time and is the third glass that fall out of my hands,” mom sobs, fighting back her tears. When she takes her hands away from her face, I can see she really is crying. Her nose is so red. I mean, pink. So pink. I can’t believe it. As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen mom cried before, and now she’s crying, over smashed glass! Funny.

            “Oh, I thought it was something else,” I say, bending down, trying to help her. Well, indeed I was pretending. I never helped mom before. This was only because I wanted to ask her about the pendant.

            “You’re faking, babe, I know that.” Mom gathers the bigger glasses into a small mountain. Okay, that is the best thing I love about mom; she’s a clairvoyant to me. When she’s alone with me in the mansion, she knows what I was going to do, what I was intended to watch in the TV, what was desirable for me to eat. She’s my mom. She stands and takes off her apron, walking away and leaving me alone. She’ll be back, I guess.

            Well, no. Mom doesn’t come back. She left me there doing the work. I even hear her clicking on the TV in the living room. What a mean mom! I was just trying to fit in when she just walk away and spoiled everything. Hmm, I guess I could talk to her in the living room.

            After I had finish cleaning all of the rubbish (I even sweep up the whole kitchen! Phew, tiring), I walk over to mom, wishing she isn’t really sleeping or gone upstairs and locked herself in.

            Yes, there was the head lying back against the sofa. But wait. I can hear her snore. I walk closer to her, and look at her. Oh, great. Mom has gone to Rome already.

 

 

            It is already midnight, and I can’t even sleep yet. My mind is still thinking of that eerie-like pendant. It was really scary when mom didn’t even notice it. I thought it was maybe her pendant, but it seems like it was mine now.

            At last, I drag myself into the fantasy life. I am dreaming, I think.

            Out of nowhere, I can suddenly hear a piercing sound of, like your window shutter is sliding up. It was like somebody was trying to enter my bedroom. This is getting SCARY! Wait no, I hate ghosts. I open my eyelids a bit, wishing the ghost can’t see me in the pitch black room.

             But hold the phone. It was a no ghost. Instead of seeing scary headless man, I see a leg stepping inside. I thought ghosts don’t have any legs. I was in shock. Burglar! Blimey. I hate burglars, and ghosts. But why didn’t the burglar alarm chime in? Why didn’t it work out? Mom had already switched it on. Puzzling.

            I want to gain my guts to strangle him, but then I thought that I must have been dreaming. I must have. Wake up, right now. No, I’m not dreaming because I pinch a bit of my hip and I did feel the pain. Stupid girl.

            I watch the leg. One by one entering the window, with the wildest slow. Then comes the body, a really firm and tough body. Suddenly the head pops in, and I can see that it was really a boy. A boy of my age. I am dreaming. And I wish the dream goes on till the end, because I want to see how the dream’s ending was. I wait, like a lady sitting quietly in the cinema, waiting eagerly to watch the movie. When the moonlight strikes straight to his body, my eyes grow wider and wider, because I can see the resemblance of Evan Shamrock. His brown curly locks, his smile of a prince, and I can even see his emerald-green eyes shining. You’ve got to be joking me. This is a real ridiculous dream. How"how can I dream of that dork? He can’t be in my dream. It’s a total lie.

            Suddenly that dorky Evan walks up toward me, toward my bed, like flirting me, even though I know he thinks I shut my eyes. He smiles, teeth still flashing white. Suddenly he reaches me; he touches my temple, giving me some kind of a tingle down my spine. Hey! It was the same like the tingle on my spine when I touch the pendant for the first time! Okay, shocking. He puts his hand away, staring at me, I guess, even though I didn’t look up at him. Like I said, his glances were like the most welcoming alert.

            Okay, good God, why am I suddenly feeling really sleepy? Real sleepy. Like I’m on drugs. Great, now I’m going really far away from my own world . . .

 

 

            I wake up, sweating desperately. The last night dream was very odd. Really odd. Like, over-odd. I sit up, yawn, and think about the dream for a while. Evan Shamrock? Who really is he, exactly? I guess this dork got to have something hidden behind his eyes. I touch my cleavage, to see whether the pendant was there. Oh great. I had slept with the pendant, without even taking it off. Silly me. Now the pendant must have been really spoiled. Hey, no. it didn’t spoil! The diamond is still sticking on the shamrock figure. I am thrilled. THRILLER! " By Michael Jackson.

            I fetch the clock beside me. Usually I have to have mom to wake me up, but today why mom didn’t come in and babble? She must have been sleeping right now, too. And I guess I was the one who was going to babble at her.

            I glance at the clock. S**t! I can’t believe my eyes. It’s not that I’m late, no. Just look at the clock! I mean, usually I will wake up like six thirty to six forty, but now it wasn’t even reached six yet. It is still five forty-five in the morning! Believe me or not?

            I smile all the way to bathroom. Nothing like this could have happened everyday, you see. I’m a great sleeper. Even tough I have had enough sleep, if mom slaps on my face, I will still sleep. But if she starts talking and babble, I can’t even shut my eyes. Her mouth was her great weapon. Nothing could be beneath it. And"

            Something caught my glances. Why everything seemed so weird? Okay, now, I see a letter and a small shamrock (!) placed nicely on my dressing table. Even though my bedroom wasn’t very tidy today"bundles of clothes in one place, papers and homeworks everywhere, and the unmake bed"but I still can recognize any thing that wasn’t really mine. I dart toward my dressing table, pick the letter up, and try to examine it. This wasn’t like any ordinary letter; the envelope was emerald-green in colored. Okay, great. Everything seems to be emerald-green in colored, since that Shamrock guy slipped into my life.

            I tear the envelope apart, unable to stand the curiousness. My mind focuses on it.  Nobody had ever sent any letter to me, except for that love letter Joe had sent me (which I didn’t think it was a love letter, because it looks like a birthday card). As it was already open, I hold it up to read. Here it goes:

 

 

Dear Fiorella Isla Ophelia Rochelle Scarletta,

 

            I am obliged to send this letter to you. My name is Capt. Evan Shamrock. I am working with the Queen Sahara, and was ordered to take you back to where you belong, the Shamrock Island. I know it sounds weird to you, as you have never heard of the island. Queen Sahara rules the island, and right now, she wanted an heir, so she sent me to fetch you and bring you back to island. As the matter of fact, Queen Sahara’s real daughter was you, and before anything happens to her, she would want to see her heir. I hope you can be an heir for her, as there were not any more heirs in the royal family. Perhaps you can take over her place and rule the kingdom.

 

         Yours,

P/s: please respond once you received this letter.                           Evan.

 

            Stop, stop, STOP! Okay, first of all, I’m going to faint. I sit down on my bed wide-eyed. What the heck? And Fiorella what? My name isn’t Fiorella. It’s Kris, you dumb a*s! And, captain? Did he said, Captain Evan Shamrock? Stop dreaming, dork. He thinks he’s a captain, for God’s sake. Queen Sahara? Shamrock Island? Wow, nice name, and great, as his family name was Shamrock, too. All of this was" hold the phone. Maybe mom knows about it. Maybe mom was Fiorella Isla whatever I think it was.

            I walk out of the bedroom, looking right and left, holding the letter in my hand. No one was outside in the hallway, and probably mom was still in Rome. I mean, I thought she was already up. Chefs are never late from waking up early, to think whether tomato suits with pancake for breakfast, even though it was still one hour fifteen minutes before breakfast. I run slowly toward mom’s bedroom, which were just few doors next to my bedroom. You see, our mansion is real big. Not to brag, but I’m telling you the truth. There are 83 rooms in it, if you may please excuse the expressions.

            I knock a few times on her dark colored oak door, and a few seconds after my knocks I can hear loud footsteps stepping impatiently on the poor floorboards, toward the door. I felt like a giant coming to me to tear me apart with it claws but then I felt real relief as I meet my mom’s blue eyes, even though I don’t like it much. You see, it puzzles me much, because my eyes were not like hers. My eyes didn’t even have any shades of blue; they were just some sort of green colored, and a bit of crystal in the middle. It disappoints me, though, having a mom without the same color in the eyes. Well, MJ kind of delighted to tell me that she and her mother, Mrs. Smith, got the same eye color that is brown, very thick brown. I am so jealous.

            Mom answers the door, her eyes were like close but I think they are opening. She looks up at me. “Whazza?” she mutters. Ugh, mom, stop ‘whazza whazza’ing me. I am so confused, okay?

            “It’s Kris, and I wanna ask you something.”

            “Wha"” she’s just starting to say something, but then I can hear my voice slips in.

            “These statements I’m going to tell you were connected to Queen Sahara.” I say, looking real firm. I think I could handle all of these, brightly. Huh, don’t you dare bragging, Kris.

            “Queen Sahara?” she seems like, freshened a little. Well, hello Fiorella. I guess she was Fiorella, even though she really didn’t admit it yet, but she will.

            “Yeah,” I shrug. Mom didn’t answer me, as she looks down at her feet, thinking for a while. “Oh, c’mon, mom?” I raise my brows.

            She lifts her face to look up at me, and I can’t even believe what I saw when she smile at me. She really actually smile, and it wasn’t really faking; it was the softest smile that I have ever received from her. “Come on inside,” she drags me into her bedroom. “I shall to tell you a story.”

            Well, dear readers, actually, I had never been into mom’s bedroom before. It was always locked when I tried to sneak in. She was keeping the key to her bedroom, and she was acting as if there is something mysterious hiding within it. I really wanted to see her bedroom, and now I actually gape, as I saw a huge, real huge framed photo of a lady, hanged just right in front of her bed (hey, I notice that her bedroom was cleaner than mine). She was supposed to put her photo hanged there instead of a stranger’s photo. Mom just stand behind me, not saying a word to let me wonder a while what the heck had happened, as I getting closer to it. Something’s really happening in here.