Maggie Malone Gets the Royal Treatment Page 7

  “Oh, well, I…thanks, Henry,” I stammer. I’m totally tongue-tied because first of all, a REAL-LIFE PRINCE just called me incredible. Me! And second of all, I can’t believe that Mimi has a part in this crazy cousin-feud too! And here I was, turning my cheek—over and over—thinking the problem was all Penelope. I must look as flustered as I feel, because Prince Henry reaches for my hand, and when he does, I chomp down hard on my cheek. This time I get my tongue too. I’ve really got to work on that.

  “Are you all right, Mimi?” Prince Henry asks, adorably concerned.

  “Um, yeah, I’ll be right back, okay?” I say through a close-lipped smile, hoping no blood is seeping out. I grab the sides of my puffy dress and run across the lawn behind the tent where a bunch of servers are shuffling back and forth. I find a parked linen truck and twist the little side mirror around so I can stick out my tongue and survey the damage.

  “ACKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” I scream when I see Frank’s face in there. He’s laughing and sticking his tongue right back out at me.

  “Frank, what are you doing here?” I whisper, looking around to see if my little explosion attracted any attention. Fortunately, the party sounds drowned me out.

  “Just checking in, Malone,” Frank says with a sly grin. “Everything going okay?”

  “Well, obviously Penelope and Mimi have this serious rivalry thing going on. But guess WHAT? Turns out, the meanness goes both ways. Only I’ve been all give Penelope another chance, she’ll come around, don’t make any waves. And she’s just getting worse by the second. It’s like the more I let her get away with, the more evil she becomes!”

  “You hit the nail on the head with that one, Malone,” Frank says, pulling a nail from the side of his mouth and hammering it into a board with three hard whacks. “Get it? Hit the nail? I crack myself up, honestly.”

  “What are you doing, Frank?” I ask. I swear I don’t think I’ve seen that guy in the same place twice.

  “Oh, just a little home repair work for my cousin, Ishmael,” Frank explains. “He’s not very handy with a hammer, but if you want a magic carpet ride, he’s your guy. Anyway, you know what you have to do, and it’ll be good practice too…Handmaiden.”

  “Oh, yeah, that,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Thanks for reminding me, Frank. And yeah, I’ll have to deal with that when I get home, but if these girls want to fight like two cats in a bag, it’s not like there’s anything I can do to stop them. Besides, my day as Mimi is almost over, so she’ll just have to figure this mess out herself!”

  “Actually,” Frank says, putting his hammer down. “That’s not how it works.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I demand.

  “Here’s the thing, Malone, and I feel a little bad about not mentioning this sooner, but in order for you to keep taking the MMBs for a spin, you have to affect each life you try on in some positive way. Magic has a price.”

  “Wait, what?” I ask. “You didn’t tell me that! I could lose my MMBs?!”

  “Well, yeah, that’s sort of the point of all of this. And you did that, no problem, when you were in Becca Starr’s shoes,” Frank says, looking guilty. “So you need to figure out a way to bring Mimi and Penny together, help them see eye to eye. These girls have been at each other since they were in nappies—that’s British for diapers. They sure do have some funny words, don’t they? Anyway, they’ll probably keep going at it till they’re knocking wheelchairs unless they learn to get along. And somebody’s got to be the bigger person to make that happen. I believe that person is you, Maggie Malone.”

  “So I need to patch things up between these two princesses or it’s bye-bye MMBs? In the next hour? How am I supposed to do that? I don’t want to lose them—you know I don’t—but that’s a pretty tall order, Frank!”

  “You’ll figure something out,” Frank says. “I don’t doubt it for one second.” Before I can tell him he’s officially nuts, somebody cranks the linen truck’s engine and I barely have time to jump out of the way before it pulls away, the tailgate flapping in the breeze.

  Chapter 18

  When I Stick to What I Know

  I make my way back toward the tent, but I don’t see Henry outside anymore. He must have gone back in—or maybe he’s hiding somewhere. I wouldn’t blame him. I did act a little freaky when he touched my hand. Inside the tent, the orchestra has switched back to some more wedding-type music. Couples are swishing across the dance floor, and since I don’t have a dance partner, I trot over to the cake table.

  The woman working the cake table is a serious grump. When I walk up, she acts like she doesn’t see me even though I know she totally does. And here’s the thing: there are THREE CAKES and none of them are peanut butter flavor. There’s a giant, rose-covered, ten-tier white cake for the bride, a big, velvety chocolate airplane for the groom, and a red and blue and brown ice cream cake in the shape of a pheasant (as in, the hunting bird). That one’s in honor of the groom’s springer spaniel, Seymour.

  I stand in front of the big white cake and hold out my plate. The lady hands over a slice. Then I move on to the airplane. When I hold up my plate, she looks at me with these giant bug eyes but finally cuts me off a sliver. Gee thanks. Honestly, how many times in my life am I going to get to eat a piece of a cake shaped like an airplane?

  “And a slice of the pheasant, por favor,” I say with a smile to the tight-lipped cake lady. She takes her knife, slices off the bird’s butt and plops it onto my plate. I can tell she thinks she’s giving me a terrible piece, but it’s mostly icing so I couldn’t be happier.

  I happily clutch my cake trio and scan the room, finally locking eyes with Henry. He’s back at our table and he’s waving me over. I want to cry happy tears. With the way I ran away from him like that, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d found a way to switch seats. I wave back and start making my way back to the table when somebody starts clinking their spoon on their water glass. It must be time for speeches.

  This should be as fun as watching Granny Malone and her friends play a game of canasta, I think to myself as I lower myself into the seat Prince Henry has thoughtfully pulled out for me. The Archduke of Wincastle, who is at least a hundred years old, goes first. He mumbles something about tradition and prosperity and I don’t know what else because, well, it’s really boring and I am very busy trying to balance my fork on my water glass. The second he finishes, Penelope bolts out of her seat. She races toward the stage and snatches the mic right out of the archduke’s hand.

  “What is she doing?” Prince Henry whispers to me.

  “Thank you, Your Imperial and Royal Highness, for those ever so lovely and inspiring words of wisdom,” Penelope gushes. The archduke sits down looking confused. I’m guessing this is not the official order of how things usually go around here.

  “Maybe she has a toast for the bride and groom?” I whisper back to Prince Henry. Just as I say this, Penelope glares in my direction and I know she’s devised another plan to throw me under a stampede of royal horses.

  Penelope clears her throat. “I’d love to offer my best wishes to the bride and groom,” she says, looking in their direction. “But I feel it’s only right that the next speech be given by the one who wears the Crown Cape. Without further ado, please welcome Princess Wilhelmina of Wincastle!” Penelope smiles, looking oh-so-pleased with herself.

  Oh no she didn’t!

  Every eyeball in the room is on me, including the two that belong to Prince Henry, who looks totally terrified for me. He can’t believe I’m actually going to do this and honestly, neither can I. But it’s not like I can just run out of the tent or click my heels together and disappear, which would certainly come in handy right about now. I stand up slowly and give Prince Henry a little shrug as I push back my chair. The room starts to spin a little as I walk toward the stage. When I pass Penelope, she bumps me hard in the shoulder and mumbles something I can’t make out,
thankfully.

  I pick up the microphone and scan the crowd of unsmiling, unfamiliar faces. This is almost as bad as the time in third grade when I made it all the way to the Math Olympics and then I froze on the stage and couldn’t answer a single question. Actually, it’s worse. At least then I didn’t have mean old Princess Penelope in the audience, snickering at me and enjoying every second of my humiliation.

  “Umm, cheerio everyone,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m sorry, I don’t really have anything prepared…” I look over to see Penelope grinning ear to ear, pleased as punch to see me looking like a raccoon caught in headlights. Not gonna happen, Princess Penny! I give myself a quick pep talk. It’s now or never, Malone. You’ve made it this far. You can do this!

  “But I too would like to offer my best wishes to the bride and groom,” I start. “Let’s give them a nice round of applause!”

  Even though I’m clapping like a lunatic, nobody joins in. This is not going well. What can I say about two people I don’t even know? Ooh, I know. Compliments! People love compliments!

  “They sure look fancy today, don’t they? I mean, they look perfect—just like a teeny, tiny bride and groom on top of a wedding cake!” I gush, but the crowd just looks confused. I figure that was the wrong thing to say so I try to backpedal. “Except they’re not made of cheap plastic and they’re definitely not miniature people. In fact they’re huge!” I say, opening my arms wide. Hello, they are royalty! But when I say this, the groom’s table lets out a big gasp. Now I realize this is probably because the groom is a little on the hefty side, to say the least. I’m dead meat. I seriously want to pick up a fork and dig myself a hole in the grass and climb down into it. Take a deep breath, Malone. Think, I tell myself. Wait, don’t think! Just stick to what you know.

  “Starting a brand-new life is a big deal—because you never know what that life is going to be like,” I say, and I get a few nods. Man, this is not an easy crowd.

  “Princess Clementine and Prince Clayton have it all,” I add, and there’s lots more nodding and even a few polite grins out there. “But the truth is, their life together won’t be perfect. Because no life ever is, even if you’re royalty—no disrespect, Your Majesty.” I give a quick curtsy toward the queen, who twists her lips into the tiniest of smiles. I kind of expected a little more out of her, after we booty scooted together and all, but whatever. I start to relax a little.

  “I’m just a kid, but there’s one thing I do know: Life is like a grab bag from the candy store,” I say. “It might be full of the best lollipops you ever tasted, but there’s also going to be some horrid, sour jellyfruit in there too.” The crowd is chuckling and actually looking happy now, and I’m starting to feel like at least half a million royal bucks.

  “So to the bride and groom, I would like to say: May your life together be a lot more sweet than sour, and may every day together be an exciting new adventure!”

  I raise my water glass and the whole room goes crazy clapping and cheering. Except for Penelope, who stands and rushes from her seat in a red-faced fury.

  Chapter 19

  When I Save My MMBs

  “Nicely done,” Prince Henry says as soon as I get back to the table.

  “Thanks,” I say, blushing. “Would you excuse me for just a few minutes?”

  “Of course,” he says, standing with a smile. “Just try to steer clear of that horrible cousin of yours.”

  I smile back but say nothing. There’s no way I’m losing my MMBs over this girl’s bratty behavior. I can do this. I can be the bigger person.

  They’ve actually built a bathroom out here just for the royal reception. A lady in an apron opens the door for me, and right away I can hear Penelope sobbing inside one of the stalls.

  I knock softly on the door.

  “Go away,” she shouts through her heaving sobs.

  “It’s me, Mimi,” I tell her, mostly because I don’t know what else to say.

  “Well fluttering fiddlesticks then, most definitely go away,” Penelope blubbers.

  “I’ll go away,” I say calmly, “when you tell me exactly why it is that you hate me so much.”

  Penelope whips the door open and stands there glaring at me. Man, is she a mess. Her eyes are all bloodshot and her face looks like a blotchy tomato and she has snot running out of both nostrils. If I had a hankie, I’d give it her, but she’d probably shove it up my nose. I close my eyes for a second because I’m afraid she’s going to punch me in the face.

  “Are you off your blooming trolley?” she howls at me. “You want to know why I hate you so much? Really? You want to know why I, the most unpopular princess Wincastle has ever known, hate you, the most admired and beloved noble in our country’s history?”

  I assume this is one of those questions you’re not supposed to answer, but Penelope is looking at me like she wants me to say something.

  “Um, yeah, I guess I do,” I say.

  “Because you…have…everything,” she replies, slumping down the wall of the stall and landing in a puddle on the floor. Her sobs grow louder, and I’m starting to worry she’s going to choke on her own snot. Eww.

  “Everyone loves you,” she wails. “And not just in Wincastle, but all over the world! You always get all of the attention, and even when I try to mess it up, you come out smelling like a rose. But that’s not the worst of it. The worst is that you can’t even be bothered to fight back anymore. You used to—you’d get downright wicked, and when you did, I could tell myself that you were no better than me. But you are better than me. You are. Everyone’s always known it and I guess I have to face it now too. It’s not fair. I hate you and I want to be you all at the same time. It’s maddening, I tell you. Utterly, spectacularly maddening!” She drops her head onto her knees.

  “Penelope?” I say it like a question, because I’m not sure if she’s going to let me talk.

  “What?” she sighs from her spot on the floor.

  “You do know that being—wicked, as you say—is a choice, right?” I ask. “I mean, you could make a decision right now that you’re only going to say and do nice things. Every day, to everyone. It’s really not that complicated.”

  Penelope lifts her head. “That’s easy to say when your life is perfect,” she whimpers.

  “But how do you know my life is perfect?” I ask. “And what’s so bad about yours?”

  “Everyone hates me,” she sighs. “And it’s too late to change that. I’m a lost cause.”

  “That’s not true,” I tell her, pulling her to her feet. I push her toward the sink and hand her a wet towel.

  “Come on,” I say. “We’ve got to clean you up and get back out there.”

  “Look at me!” Penelope cries at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m an absolute wreck.”

  I twist her to face me and dry her eyes with a hand towel. Then I take out the compact that Amelia stashed in my bag. It’s tucked in right next to my genie pocket mirror. That reminds me that I’m going to have to tell Frank that he was right. Again. I powder Penelope’s nose for her, smooth her hair down, and spin her back around.

  “Look, you’re beautiful,” I tell her.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror and she gives me a weak smile. “See?” she says. “And you really are disgustingly kind. I can’t believe I never saw that before.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say, grabbing her hand and dragging her out the door.

  “Where are we going?” Penelope asks as we snake our way through the crowded tent.

  “You’ll see,” I say over my shoulder, squeezing her hand.

  We arrive at the wedding party table still holding hands. Prince Henry sees us first and gives me a confused look.

  “Prince Henry, I need to rest my feet for a bit, but Princess Penelope was just saying how much she’d fancy a dance with a handsome prince,” I say.

  Henry is too
much of a gentleman to do anything but smile politely and extend his hand to Penelope.

  “May I have this dance, Princess?” he asks.

  “Oh and Penelope, would you do me a huge favor?” I add. “It’s dreadfully hot in this cape, but you know the rules—it must be worn at all times when it’s not in its case at the abbey. Would you mind wearing it for a bit? I’d be most grateful.” Well, Frank did say I had to make a positive change in this life. Why stop when you’re on a roll?

  Penelope’s jaw drops. “As you wish, Princess Mimi,” she says, accepting the cape, which Henry fastens for her. As they make their way toward the dance floor, a hum takes over the room. Flashbulbs start popping wildly again and echoes of Do you see who is wearing the Crown Cape? can be heard throughout the tent.

  My molasses-stained butt and I sure hope she remembers to bring that thing back, or I’ll be sitting here all night.

  Chapter 20

  When I Find Out What I Didn’t Know

  As the night wears on, all eyes are on Penelope. She’s actually glowing. I don’t think it’s the Crown Cape either. You can tell she’s really happy and having a great time and feeling good about herself. The photographers can’t get enough of her. They go wild getting shots of her smiling and dancing in the arms of Prince Henry.

  Finally, the party seems to be winding down. At what has to be the stroke of midnight—I’m so tired I’m actually holding my eyelids open with my hands—Penelope flutters back to where I’m sitting and plops down with an exhausted but giddy smile.

  “Sorry I was out there so long, Mimi,” Penelope says, and you can tell she actually means it. “I just didn’t want this night to end. I still don’t want it to end.” Her smile falls a little bit. “But I know it has to, and before it does, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  She bites her bottom lip but says nothing.