Princesses Don't Wear Converse

Princess Constance of England had an extravagant life and hated it. She hated spending four hundred dollars on a shirt when she could spend four dollars at a department store. She hated all the glitz and glam. She just wanted to be normal. That was exactly what Ashton Irwin could provide. Normality. If only she wasn't engaged to a prince...

10Likes
8Comments
667Views
AA

2. Chapter Two

Connie’s P.O.V.

2014

“Constance Cornelia Miriam van der Watson, how many times must I tell you to stop running through the house?!”

“Technically, it’s a palace, not a house, Mom.”

“Stop being difficult!”

I came to the end of the hallway. “Dead end,” I muttered to myself.

“Yes, dead end.”

I slowly turned around, knowing I was in trouble. My mother was glaring at me; beads of sweat dripping form her forehead. I smiled innocently.

“Constance, you’re almost twenty-one years old, not five.  Don’t you think it’s time to grow up?”

I pushed past her and walked down the hall. “It’s hard to grow when you barely had a real childhood.”

Mum sighed. “Please, just go back to the fitting.” I could tell she was tired, not just from running but of me.

“Mum, I hate fittings.”

“Well, too bad. You have to get something to wear for the birthday party.”

“A huge ball full of people who I don’t even know is not a ‘birthday party’, Mum.”

"What will get you to go to this fitting, Constance?"

"Cancel it."

"I can't"

"Sure you can. Just ask El to make some phone calls and cancel some orders and.."

"This isn't just your birthday. It's the birthday of a princess and possibly queen, something not only you should be a allowed to celebrate, but also the rest of this country. So what else will get you to this fitting?"

"Can I invite some people I actually want there?"

"If it'll get you dressed, then fine."

"And I want.."

“Please, can we just go?” she stopped me.

I sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Mum left me in front of the ‘mirror room’ and went downstairs. I opened the door and saw five elderly women, holding measuring tapes, swatches of cloth and needles. “Does anyone know where Eleanor is?”

An old, Chinese woman answered, “She said she would be here in five minutes.”

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

I stepped up onto a wooden stool. One of the ladies gave me a big, pink ball gown. I took off my sweatpants and black shirt and, with a lot of assistants, put on the dress.

“This is hideous!” I complained.

“It was the darkest color from the selection your mother gave me and I know how much you hate bright colors,” a Spanish accent echoed through the large room. El walked up beside me in front the semi-circle of tall mirrors. She wore a white button-up shirt tucked into a pair of stone-washed jeans, black high heels and a grey blazer. She pushed the sleeves of her blazer up to her elbows and opened her black binder.

“See?” She held the binder open for me to see.

“Gross! What is wrong with that lady?!” I exclaimed, flipping through the pages of light pink ball gowns.

Eleanor picked up my clothes that I dropped onto the ground, dug through the pockets of my pants and pulled out a black hair tie. She tied her long, chestnut brown hair into a neat ponytail. She looked at the clock on the wall and I swear her bright blue eyes were about to fall out of her head.

“What’s up?” I asked, concerned.

“It’s 2:30! This fitting should’ve been finished an hour ago! Now we’re off schedule! Oh god, your mother is going to fire me!” She started pacing across the room, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“She won’t fire you,” I said, trying to calm her down.

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m only her assistant because my mother works here and you wouldn’t stop begging her to give me some kind of job.”

“And because you’re the most organized and hard-working person on earth. And she won’t fire you because my birthday is soon. If she fires you, I’ll guilt-trip her. If that doesn’t work, I’ll bring up the fact she didn’t give me a birthday present and you staying would be the best present ever.”

“It’s Thursday. Your birthday is on Sunday.”

“I know...”

“I haven’t gotten you anything yet. Neither has your brother.”

“Did Mum?”

“It’s not my place to tell you.”

“When has that stopped you?”

“Yes, she did. She’s giving you it at your party.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn it.”

Some of the ladies raised their eyebrows but said nothing. Then the door opened.

“Um, is Eleanor here?” Charlie asked.

“Y-Yeah, here.” She stuttered. Sixteen years passed since El first admitted she liked Charlie. Apparently, she still did and so did he. Charlie pushed his dirty blonde hair to the side, something he only did when he was nervous or shy. “Mum is looking for you.”

“O-Okay.” She stumbled to get up. I couldn’t help but giggle. She was only clumsy or nervous when: a) Mum was angry, b) her mother was sick and c) when Charlie was around. And it was totally adorable! El glared at me before leaving and it was just me and Charlie. Well, just me and Charlie and the Needle and Tape Gang.

“Ask her out already,” I said casually, as if it were no big deal to bring that up. “How many times do I have to tell you I won’t” he replied, closing the door behind him as he entered the room. “By the way, you look horrendous.”

“Go tell Mum that.”

“Never mind. You look gorgeous!”

“Sure I do. Now go ask her out.”

“What will Mum say? She’ll kill me, and then fire Eleanor and Maria. I won’t let her punish them for no reason.”

“Do what I do.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t tell her.”

“You’re lucky. You’ve mastered the art of lying since you were little. I’m twenty-four and I still can’t lie.”

“Exactly! You’re grown up! And so is El, she’s twenty-three! You both can make your own decisions!”

“Go tell Mum that.”

I sighed. Mum always found a way to ruin everything.

 

 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...