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The Princess Who Stood on Her Own Two Feet

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Jeanne Desy

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“To the one in the skies, this city must look like a scintillating pattern of speckled glows in all directions, like a firecracker going off amid thick darkness. Right now the urban pattern glowing here is in hues of orange, ginger, and ochre. It is a configuration of sparkles, each dot a light lit by someone awake at this hour. From where the Celestial Gaze is situated, from that high above, all these sporadically lit bulbs must seem in perfect harmony, constantly flickering, as if coding a cryptic message to God.”

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“For the first time in a long time, I actually look at her. I've always thought Lena was pretty, but now it occurs to me that at some point—last summer? last year?—she became beautiful. Her eyes seem to have grown even larger, and her cheekbones have sharpened. Her lips, on the other hand, look softer and fuller. I've never felt ugly next to Lena, but suddenly I do. I feel tall and ugly and bony, like a straw-colored horse.”

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“Never think you cannot be a success based on someone else's measurement of success. Success is not a one-size-fits-all process. It is a personal and relative concept that requires sheer excellence.”

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“To think I actually talked to the boy who nearly got you killed," Ivy mutters, shuddering with disgust. "I'm so sorry I did." "It's okay. You didn't know," I reassure her as we take a seat on some pool chairs. "But you told me before what his appearance was. I should have recognized him!" "It's fine, Ivy. Even if you did your best to avoid him, he would've found way to hit on you eventually." Ivy wrinkles her nose at the unfamiliar language. " 'Hit on'? What does that mean?" "Flirting. Or, for Dunstan, more like a procedure. He's been hitting on any pretty girl he sees ever since he and Melanie broke up. I don't know if he's doing this to make her jealous or what, but it's really annoying." I look back up to see Ivy go rigid. For some reason she looks classically surprised; her hand is over her mouth, and the rosy blush is back with a vengeance, "Ivy? You okay?" Ivy removes her hand, muttering something so quietly I can't hear it. "Sorry?" "You called me pretty." The moment those words are said, Ivy stares down at her feet as her face gets brighter. "Well, yeah," I murmur, my face hot. "You really are beautiful tonight, Ivy.”

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