Who Made You a Princess? (20 page)

Shani, you dummy, get a grip. It’s probably not him anyway.
“Hello?” I said breath-lessly, pressing a hand to the sore spot on my skull.

“Hi, darling,” my mother chirped.

“Mom!” I floundered through half a dozen things to say, then settled on a lame, “How are you?”

“
Superbe
,” she said in a flawless accent that told me she was either in Paris or had just been there. “I have a surprise for you.”

With my mother, it’s best not to guess. “Really? What?”

“Come downstairs and I’ll show you.”

I stalled. “Downstairs where? Where are you?”

“In a very nice room your headmistress calls the visitors’ study. Daddy and I are waiting. Hurry, now!”

I FLEW IN TO
my dad’s arms and squeezed him as hard as I could, breathing in the scent of Polo cologne and crushing the fine wool of his
suit under my hands. “I’m so glad to see you,” I said into his shirtfront. “What are you doing here?”

“Sharing our happiness with you.” Smiling, Mom detached me and pulled me into a hug.

I recognized her dress from the Valentino show in Milan. “You look great. Love the color.” The deep wine red showed off her
coffee-colored skin, and she’d chosen a lipstick to match. “What do you mean, share your happiness? What’s the good news?”

I gazed from one to the other as my dad ushered me over to the leather couch and waved me into it. Mom sat next to me while
he took the chair kitty corner from it.

Mom smiled, the cat-got-the-cream one that meant she was pleased with something I’d done. But I hadn’t done anything except
pass my midterms (at least, I was pretty sure I’d passed with A’s and B’s) and make up my mind about a boy.

And neither of those options would make my parents leave Paris to come and see me.

It had to be something about them. “Don’t tell me. Are you guys renewing your vows?” They looked at each other. Uh, okay.
Guess this had never occurred to either of them. “You’ve bought another company?” Dad shook his head. “You’re having another
baby?”

“Good grief, Shani,” my mother exploded. “Of course not!”

“Well, then? Tell me.”

“I think you have something to tell us.” When I just stared at her, Mom reached into her Chanel tote, its black patent as
smooth as obsidian. She opened
Paris Match
to the centerfold and tossed it in my lap.

I stared at the photograph filling the upper half of the page. A guy and a girl sat in the grass under a tree. The girl was
reaching out with both hands as a guy offered her a—

I blinked. That looked like—

It was. And the necklace was as clear as day.

I read the article so fast the type blurred. Then I got to the second picture. In it, Rashid and I were dancing, him behind
me in some salsa hold with his hands around my hips. The light caught the necklace, bouncing off all those diamonds.

My eyes hurt. I lowered the magazine and closed it. “I don’t get it.”

Mom laughed. “I’d say you did. Where is that necklace now?”

“In Ms. Curzon’s safe.”

“That was sensible.” My dad’s baritone sounded solid, reassuring. Both of which I needed right now.

“You know this article is total speculation, right? Rashid and I aren’t engaged. I’m only seventeen. That’s crazy!”

“Age is irrelevant when it comes to the Kingdom of Yasir,” my mother told me.

A needle of cold apprehension darted through my stomach. “What?”

She waved a hand at the paper. “You saw what it said. The Star of the Desert goes to the prince’s future bride. It’s been
in the family for centuries. When Rashid’s mother, Queen Zuleikha, got engaged to the Sheikh, the stone was set in a ring.
Rashid had it reset as the centerpiece of that necklace.”

And here I’d thought it was nice. Different. I didn’t know the big old diamond had a
name
.

Never mind that. What was going on in my mother’s perfectly coiffed head?

“It doesn’t matter what it was, Mom. I’m giving it back to him. He’s in Yasir this week, or I’d have given it back days ago.”

“Given it back? Why?”

I stared at her. “Um, weren’t you the one who sent me to those deportment classes where they tell you never to accept expensive
gifts from men?”

“They weren’t talking about princes, sweetie.”

“The point is, we’re just friends—in fact, at the moment I don’t think we’re even that. He found out I was seeing someone
else and—”

“What?” Dad blurted.

I put up a placating hand. “Relax, Dad. He’s really nice. I met him at Mansfields’ this summer. His name is Danyel Johnstone
and he’s—”

“Wait, wait.” Mom waved her hands, brushing the thought of Danyel out of the air. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.” Identical scary faces. I swallowed. “I hope you can meet Danyel soon, that’s all, because he’s—”

“Are you telling us,” my father said slowly, carefully, “that you’re seeing some other boy? Not the prince?”

“Well, Rashid is out of town, so technically I—”

“Shani!”

Okay, this was getting weird. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

My mother took a calming breath. “You know it’s unacceptable to be seeing this other boy while you’re seeing the prince.”

“Well, yeah, I get that, which is why I made up my mind, finally.”

“And?”

I eyed him. “I don’t get why it matters so much who I go out with. I haven’t even seen you since—” Hm. How long had it been?
“June.”

“I care deeply when my daughter is involved with royalty.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, then. Rashid got a little tweaked when Danyel showed up at this restaurant opening
last weekend. That’s when he took off and went back to Yasir.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Mom said.

I had like two seconds to wonder how she knew this, when Dad said, “You’ll make it up with him. You’ll tell this Danyel boy
that you won’t be seeing him anymore, and Rashid should be satisfied.”

My jaw unhinged itself and hung open. “What?”

“You heard me, Shani. It’s very important that your relationship with Rashid not be sidelined by irrelevant friendships.”

Carly has this expression about stepping into an alternate universe, where people say things that make no sense and you wonder
how you got there.

And how you’re going to get out.

I was
so
in that place now.

Forming sentences was beyond me. So I went with small words. Simple and direct. “Why?”

He glanced at my mother. They came to some wordless agreement and my mom slid closer to me on the couch. She took my hand
in both of hers.

Uh-oh. Something seriously big was going on. Because as you’ve probably figured out, my family isn’t the most touchy-feely
one you’ve ever met.

“Shani,” she began, “remember when I told you that your great-grandmother married one of Rashid’s great-uncles?”

For a second, I couldn’t remember. Then a vague memory came of wondering if we were fifth cousins twice removed. “Yes.”

“Well, she wasn’t the only one.”

“Was he a bigamist or something?” I was trying to keep up, honest.

“No, no. I mean, that isn’t the first time our two families have intermarried.”

“I know.” I tried to remember what Rashid had said. “Since, like, the sixteen hundreds or something.”

“That’s right. But what your mother is trying to say is that every three or four generations, our family—meaning my side—marries
into Rashid’s family.” Dad looked at me as if this was supposed to mean something to me, but I must have looked as blank as
I felt, because Mom picked up the story again.

“There are any number of brothers and sisters on both sides in recent times, so this is pretty easy.”

“There are? How come I’ve never met any of them?” I wanted to know. “To hear you guys talk, you’re onlies.”

“We are, but our parents weren’t,” Dad said.

“So okay, but what does this have to do with me? Yeah, we’ve kind of bonded because he’s some kind of cousin and we were friends
when we were little. We appreciate each other for different reasons. But why does that mean I have to dump Danyel?”

“Because, sweetie—” Mom took my hand in a firmer grip. “—you’re the fourth generation since your great-grandma.”

I still didn’t get it.

They gazed at me, waiting.

And then all the synapses in my brain lined up and fired at once. “You have
got
to be kid-ding.”

Mom smiled with encouragement, as though she was telling me some huge secret. “Not at all, darling. We’ve known it for years.
Why else would we make sure you had the best education money could buy? And deportment and elocution classes?”

“Uh, so I could run Dad’s company someday?”

“No. You don’t need to know the rules of precedence to run an oil company. We’re very happy to hear that you’re friends who
appreciate each other—that’s a wonderful place to start, now that you both are grown. Soon after you graduate, the Sheikh
has given permission for you and Rashid to be married. You’ll become Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Yasir. Isn’t that
exciting?”

CARLY TOLD ME
later that she could hear me screaming from three floors away.

At that moment, every bad thought I’d ever buried, every lonely moment I’d ever had because my parents weren’t there, every
deserted Saturday afternoon of going to the movies with a maid came spewing out of me and into the faces of the two people
who were supposed to love me.

Love
me. Not sell me to the highest bidder.

“No!” I shrieked. “No way am I marrying him. And you can’t force me into it!”

“No one is forcing you,” my father tried to say, but I tromped right over him.

“This has all been a setup. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it? It’s not to take computer science classes, it’s to romance me
and make me fall for him.”

“Well, of course we want you to be happy with your future husb—” my mother began.

“Don’t say that word!” I threw my arms out and slapped a silk lampshade by accident. The lamp teetered dangerously before
it rocked to a standstill. I grabbed a vase out of its niche in one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

“Don’t you dare!” Mom warned.

“Can you blame me?” I hefted it, calculating the distance past my father’s ear to the fireplace behind him. “What else is
in the plan? You gonna march me to the church the day after graduation?”

“No, of course not. Watch your language. You didn’t grow up in the projects. And there’ll be no talk of church. A state wedding
would happen in Yasir, in the mosque.”

“
Mosque?
”

“We’ve already talked to your headmistress about you dropping one of your electives and taking World Religions for the last
two terms. You’ll get private religious instruction, too, from an expert with the Yasiri embassy. No wedding will happen until
you convert to the national religion, of course. The country wouldn’t accept anything less.”

I stared at them, my eyes practically standing out on stalks. “This can’t be real.”

My mother shook her head. “We converted several years ago, sweetie. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not,” I said. “In that case, I think I’ll be a Christian.”

“You can believe what you like in private, but for all public occasions, you and Rashid must present a united front.”

“Me and Rashid nothing,” I managed to choke past the red gob of rage in my throat. “There is no me and Rashid. I’m not going
along with any of this. You’re crazy.”

“Don’t speak to your mother that way, young lady,” my father said.

I laughed, a high hoot of disdain. “You have no right to tell me to do anything. You lost it when you checked me in here and
left me behind for four years.”

“You’re our daughter,” Mom said.

“No, I’m not. If I was, you wouldn’t want to send me permanently to the other side of the world!”

Mom tried to put her arms around me, but I jerked away, still holding the vase. The smooth china felt slippery under my fingers.
“I won’t deny you were a surprise, but honey, the minute they put you in my arms I wanted you.”

I faced her, my eyes filling with tears. I blinked them back. “Then how can you sell me off like this? Do you even know him?”