Her Prince in Disguise - Introduction
Al-Sintra Family
Andi’s story…
“Hello, Andrea,” Ms. Jeffs said with a polite, practiced smile. The guidance counselor waved Andi into her office. “Come on inside. We have a lot to discuss.”
Andi stood up, relieved to get away from the painfully hard bench that had been set outside for students waiting to speak with her. Hard was an understatement—it was designed for discomfort. The spindles on the back jabbed into her spine, like a silent warning: You don’t belong here unless you’re in trouble.
She walked into her counselor’s office and looked around. The room smelled like stale coffee and old paper, the walls lined with motivational posters that felt like empty platitudes. “Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars!” Sure. Unless someone decides to shove you out of the way so their golden boy can take your place on the rocket.
“Have a seat, Andrea.”
“Andi,” she corrected sharply as she lowered herself onto a chair that looked only marginally better than the bench outside. She didn’t lean back. No way was she getting comfortable in here. She had physics in five minutes, and besides, this place reeked of bad news.
Ms. Jeffs folded her hands in front of her, her gap-toothed smile widening like she was about to offer something pleasant. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.”
A favor? Andi’s stomach tightened. Nothing good ever started with those words.
“What kind of favor?” she asked, already bracing herself.
Ms. Jeffs cleared her throat. “Tony Perspecio’s grade point average is four point three nine nine.”
Andi blinked. “Mine is five point six.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Ms. Jeffs nodded as if this was some minor technicality instead of an indisputable fact. “But I’d like to appoint Tony as the class valedictorian.”
The words slammed into Andi like a gut punch.
Ms. Jeffs tilted her head, as if she were offering a fair trade. “You’d still be salutatorian. You’d even get to give a speech.”
Andi’s blood boiled. Heat crept up her neck, her pulse pounding in her ears. “But I earned valedictorian.”
Ms. Jeffs let out a breezy little laugh, the kind meant to wave away any silly notions Andi might have about fairness. “Yes, yes. And we’ll all know that you’re the valedictorian, but why not let Tony have the title? He’s tall, good-looking, and… well, he’s hoping to get into Harvard.”
Andi clenched her fists. “I’ve been accepted to the University of Pennsylvania.”
“Yes, and you’ve already gotten in,” Ms. Jeffs said, as if that settled it.
Andi’s nails dug into her palms. “I can only afford UPenn if I get a scholarship.”
Ms. Jeffs waved her hand, dismissing the concern as if Andi were being dramatic. “You’ll still get your scholarship. But Tony… well, see, he really wants to get into Harvard. And if he can put ‘valedictorian’ on his transcripts, it’ll boost his chances.”
Andi stared at her, the sheer audacity of this woman leaving her momentarily speechless. But only for a second.
“So, let me get this straight.” Her voice was deadly calm, the fury simmering just beneath the surface. “I did the work. I earned the title. But a guy wants it, and since he can’t beat me on merit, I’m supposed to just… step aside? To make things easier for him?”
Ms. Jeffs’ smile thinned. “You’re one of those feminist girls, aren’t you?”
Andi shot to her feet, shoving her backpack onto her shoulder with a force that rattled the chair. “No, Ms. Jeffs. I’m a nerd. Tony spent his weekends partying while I was studying. He schmoozed teachers while I was busy doing extra credit. He cheated his way to that four point three nine nine, and I earned my GPA.” Her voice rose, fury making her chest tighten. “And I’m sick of being told to step aside so that some guy can get credit for something he didn’t earn!”
Ms. Jeffs’ mouth pressed into a thin line. “There’s no need to raise your voice.”
Andi laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I think there is. Because I’ve earned the right to be angry. You’re telling me that my intelligence, my work, my effort—none of that matters as much as Tony being ‘tall and good-looking’ and wanting something he didn’t earn. And you think I’m the problem?” She shook her head, eyes blazing. “That’s not feminism, Ms. Jeffs. That’s basic respect.”
And with that, Andi turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
Physics could wait. Right now, she needed to breathe.
Laith’s story…
Prince Laith of Lativa was not, as his tutors liked to claim, “a menace to the stability of the kingdom.” He was simply curious. And if his curiosity happened to involve mischief and a mild disregard for authority, well… that was hardly his fault, was it?
Unfortunately for his headmaster, Laith was not alone in his pursuits. He had an identical twin, Prince Rafi, who shared his enthusiasm for pranks (and his complete lack of remorse). Worse still, their younger cousin, Prince Zayn, loved to assist in all of their endeavors. Too bad their other cousin, Princess Angela, had been sent to an all-girls’ boarding school. Usually, Angela came up with the best ideas.
So, naturally, when the three princes found themselves facing a pack of insufferable bullies at St. Augustine’s Boarding School, there was only one logical course of action: revenge.
The senior class of Ashworth boys were the worst. Led by their ringleader, Montgomery “Monty” Fitzhugh III, they were loud, obnoxious, and entirely too full of themselves. They delighted in tormenting the younger students, stealing desserts, and—perhaps worst of all—mocking Laith, Rafi, and Zayn for being “pampered little royals.”
This was deeply offensive to the trio. They were not pampered. They might be used to luxury, but their fathers believed very deeply in protecting the citizens of Lativa. All of the cousins had been raised with a deeply ingrained protective instinct and a hatred of bullies, whether that bully was in school or the corporate or diplomatic world.
Zayn, as usual, had the brightest (and most ridiculous) idea. “We should convince them that the school is haunted.”
Rafi nodded solemnly. “Or make them believe they’ve been cursed.”
Laith, always the strategist, tapped his chin. “Gentlemen, I propose… both.”
The key to a successful prank, Laith knew, was absurdity. If things got too frightening, the Ashworth boys might run and get the headmaster. But if the prank was just ridiculous enough, they’d be too embarrassed to ever report it.
Thus, the Phantom Sausage was born.
Step One: Sneak into the school kitchens and acquire one (1) sausage. (Easily accomplished, as Zayn was on suspiciously good terms with the head cook.)
Step Two: Create a pulley system with the sausage attached to a fishing line that would allow it to “fly” down the hallway.
Step Three: At precisely 2:00 a.m., moan ominously from the corner of Monty’s room and outside his doorway until the bully emerged. As soon as Monty investigated, the sausage would float menacingly down the hallway.
Step Four: Watch the chaos unfold.
The night of the prank finally arrived. Under the cover of darkness, the princes crept through the halls. Rafi had spent an unreasonable amount of time downloading ghostly wailing noises on his computer and secretly installing hidden speakers throughout the hallways.
Everything was set. The sausage hovered right outside of Monty’s room. Zayn, stationed on his computer, released the first eerie moan.
Monty stirred from sleep, rubbing his eyes and looking around in confusion. “What was that?”
A second moan followed, this one more dramatic.
Then Laith, through the secretly installed, carefully hidden speakers, whispered, “The wrath of the Phantom Sausage is upon you!”
Monty sat bolt upright. “Who’s there?!”
Rafi yanked the fishing line. The sausage drifted forward.
Monty shrieked, unsure of what was moving. In the darkness, it looked like a mysterious blob.
“What the hell?”
His minions woke up in time to see the ghostly sausage floating toward them, accompanied by the chilling sound of Zayn’s downloaded moaning.
Panic erupted in the bully dorm room. One boy dove under the bed. Another tried to flee, tripped over a rug, and crashed into a wardrobe.
And Monty?
Monty leapt out the window.
Granted, it was only a first-floor window, and he landed in a shrub, but it was still a decisive victory.
The following day, videos of Monty leaping out the window—minus the suspicious floating sausage—hit every student’s phone. No matter how many times Monty tried to explain, no one believed him.
Monty, for reasons no one understood, developed a deep-seated fear of breakfast meats.
And the tale of the Phantom Sausage became legend.
The headmaster, of course, suspected the princes, but as there was no concrete evidence (and no one wanted to admit they were terrorized by a floating piece of sausage), they escaped punishment.
