Princess for Hire

By Melanie Ezell

Daniel Henderson has managed to beat the odds and been accepted into Kingston Academy, one of the best private high schools in the country. However, when Daniel is invited to take part in a special program, he learns that there's more to the school than he had thought...

NOTE: This story is loosely -- as in VERY loosely -- based on the manga/anime "Princess Princess." After the initial concept, any similarities are mostly coincidental, unless they aren't. (Puzzle that out why don't ya.)

Part 6: Princesses On Parade

-16-

I blew on my fingers, hoping to inspire some reaction in the polish I had applied that would make it dry faster. I looked over at Brandy, who was sitting next to me on my bed, and watched as she angrily grabbed the bottle of acetone and scrubbed her nails clean for the fourth time.

"Take it easy, you'll get it," Sarah told her with a smile from her position in the floor, where she was holding Leslie's hand and painting the nails while Leslie just gave her a sappy grin.

Sarah had quickly adopted Brandy as her own little sister in the Princess program, and for the past few weeks had been hard at work teaching her the ins and outs of presenting as a girl. At first Brandy had seemed to enjoy every lesson, but more recently she had begun to get frustrated with the hassle of getting dressed and presentable on our Princess duty days. Sarah's response when questioned was that while Brandy might be like her, she was much less feminine in her tastes than Sarah. None of us Princesses had asked her yet, but my view was shifting more and more toward Brandy being just a normal guy and not like Sarah, and I think Sarah agreed with me.

Of course, this gave me even more reason to again question why I was so accepting of things. Not that I "enjoyed" a lot of the Princess activities per se, but they were more annoying than frustrating, especially once I had grown used to them. I might not particularly like wearing makeup or girl's underwear, which I had found had an annoying tendency to ride up or down at inopportune times if I failed to choose the style carefully, but the accoutrements alone were never enough to make me angry, while Brandy seemed to get upset every time something came less than naturally to her.

"Here, let me help you," I said to her gently once my nails were sufficiently dry, and I lifted the polish from her trembling hands. "Lay your hand on my knee, and I'll do it." She gave me a relieved smile, and soon I was repairing the damage to her nails.

"She'll never get it if she doesn't do it on her own," Sarah complained, frowning.

"Maybe, but we all need to look our best for the show later. You can take the time to show her how to do it later, but for now it's better to have it done so we can get going."

Sarah pouted up at me, but I had grown more immune to her ever since the trip into town just over three weeks ago. My decision to lighten up on everyone had made a tremendous difference in a lot of the regular student population's reactions to me, and I had since managed to make a few friends among the "normal" boys at school. They still treated me like a Princess even when wearing the boy's school uniform, which is one thing that I did tend to find mildly frustrating sometimes, but I had determined that I just had to get over it, and had since worked hard at doing exactly that.

The entire school had been given the day off to help prepare for the drama class's production of "West Side Story," with those non-Princess parts of the student body either working on final touch-ups to props, setting up the seating and tables, or working on food preparation with the Culinary Arts club. The few students who had escaped any duties for the day were sent into town with several of the teachers to hand out last minute flyers and free tickets at a few key locations. We had sold most of our stock weeks ago, but the school was determined to have a sold out show for the evening.

Meanwhile, us Princesses had been confined to the "P" wing of the dorm hall to prepare for the evening. We had been divided into groups by Jules to help each other get ready, and had since been working slowly but steadily to prepare for the showing at 7, though we had to be ready by three both so we could have a final checkup on our costumes and serve as hostesses to the guests who would be attending the show, since even before the Princess program that had been standard procedure for the school.

"There, finished. Just don't touch anything with your nails for the next half hour or so just in case, and be careful with them tonight."

"Right," she nodded, smiling down at the color on her fingers. "Thanks." She gave my knee a gentle squeeze and stared at me for a moment.

"Uh, right. Oh! Isn't it time to meet up with Jules so we can all practice our lines a final time?"

Leslie looked at my alarm clock next to my bed while blowing on her own nails, and nodded. "Yeah, it's just about. We've got maybe another hour before we have to be behind the stage to make sure our costumes are fine, and then, ugh, the stage makeup."

Sarah made a disgusted face at the same time.

"What's so bad about the stage makeup?" I asked.

Leslie looked pained. "You remember when I did your makeup that first day? And you said it was all hot and heavy and too stark?" I nodded. "Stage makeup is like that, only worse. And we ALL have to have it done that way, even you and Sarah, and it's all oily and always makes my face break out."

I grimaced. That sounded like a horrible experience.

"Dammit!"

I looked over at Brandy, who was standing by the bathroom door looking down at her hand, and I sighed.

"Come here, let me fix it."

Not long after, there was a knock on the door -- the signal we had been waiting for to know when to head over to Jules' room for a quick final read-through of all our lines, for those of us that had lines, while the rest would read the guy's parts so we could practice our timing, at least a little. I had been less than surprised when I was told that because I had a higher voice than a lot of the other Princesses and had done well in the tests that I would have one of the larger speaking parts among the girls in the cast. While we would all have to help out as best we could in the singing parts, even Amanda, I would be one of the few who had to speak up at another time. I had chosen not to object mostly because I figured it would be good practice, since it seemed that most of the staff, and even the other Princesses, already expected me to be Sarah's successor as most-girlish Princess after she graduated the next year. If that were the case, I wanted to be as prepared as I could be for having to be.

The run-through of the lines went well. Those of us with lines had our parts down cold, and so long as nobody had an accident in the next few hours or messed up their dance steps we knew we would give a good performance. Brandy and Wendy just stood to the side, laughing at us in seeming confidence that they would be more comfortable than the rest of us since they were playing the greaser's girls, with their poodle skirts and leather jackets and only one line between them.

As we made our way to the backstage area, I felt a buzz start to go through me. I might not have been expecting it, but as the time approached for our production, I was growing more and more excited. In fact, I was finding that I was actually looking forward to doing the musical.

We had had to cut down and restructure some parts of the play to make it fit both our allotted time and because none of us were professional dancers or singers. As a result, while we had most of the major numbers, including "I Feel Pretty," to Sarah's delight, but had been forced to cut or combine some of the others. In the end, I felt confident that we had a solid interpretation of the story, and I was sure that our audience, which would mostly consist of parents and alumni would enjoy the show.

The fitters were waiting for us when we arrived, and the people who would do the stage makeup were right behind them. It was time to get started.

-17-

"It wasn't your fault, Leslie. Seriously, I doubt she blames you."

Leslie just sat on my bed with his hands in his hands, staring at the floor.

The musical had started off well, but unfortunately one thing after another had started going wrong less than halfway through. One of the speakers in the sound system blew, filling the room with static in the middle of a song, followed shortly by a miscue on the lighting throwing the entire stage into shadows when the people running the sound and lights panicked trying to fix it. While the lights were down, the actors on stage had stumbled around running into each other and generally having a chaotic time of it.

By the time the lights came up, props were knocked over, the stage completely trashed, and Leslie was laying at the floor at Sarah's feet, holding a long piece of cloth in her hands that had been the skirt of Sarah's dress.

There had been silence in the auditorium for what felt like five minutes before Sarah ran off the stage, crying while trying to cover herself. Leslie had just lay there with a shocked look on her face while everybody else tried to recover. In the end, the curtain was drawn, not to be raised again, and the showings for the next two nights were cancelled.

As soon as we had gotten back to our rooms, Leslie had changed back into his boy's clothes and came over to my room, where I had yet to change, too busy trying to figure out who to check on first. Consequently, I had been sitting next to him all night while he cried on and off, keeping him company and helping him cope. I wanted to check on Sarah, but I could not leave him alone in the state he was in.

"I have to talk to her," he finally said, his voice raw from crying. "I have to apologize." He stood up, but made no move for the door, instead giving me a pitiful look. "Will you go with me?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding, then stood up. I had been in the dress for over six hours now, and it was wrinkled from where I had sat on it as well as from Leslie's crying on my shoulder. "Can I change first?"

He nodded. "I guess so, but... no, never mind."

I looked at him, and I could see the question in his eyes. I closed my eyes for a moment before moving, but when I finally went to the closet, I pulled out a casual girl's top and a skirt.

"You don't have to..."

"I know," I said, cutting him off, "but you wanted me to."

Leslie just hung his head while I went to the bathroom to change.

I could understand. After sitting there crying on my shoulder for over three hours, he wanted to be faced with as little evidence of me being anything other than the girl Becky as possible. I had no doubt I would have felt the same way if it had been me crying on someone's shoulder, it just was not the kind of thing that guys typically did together. As tenuous as my grasp on being considered a guy even in boy's clothes might have been, it was still more than he really wanted to deal with.

Even with that, combined with how upset he was, he had thought enough of me to actually stop himself from asking, at least out loud. He would never force me to do it, but I would do it if it helped him to feel better.

Once the tank top and skirt were on and I had made sure I looked okay, I stepped outside.

"Ready?" I asked him, and he nodded. A quick glance at my bedside alarm told me it was almost midnight. With any luck, Sarah would still be awake, and the teachers would be lax on curfew.

We made our way down the silent halls, Leslie clutching my arm tightly. I was now more than glad I had made the decision to dress as a girl if Leslie were this bad before ever reaching the room. The last thing I wanted to imagine is how bad he would have gotten without me there for him to lean on, or worse I suspected, me there as a boy to try and be tough in front of.

When we finally reached Sarah's door, I was more than relieved to see a light still shining under it. I gave Leslie a gentle shove, but he remained frozen several feet back, his face ghastly white and his hand sweaty on my arm.

"I can't," he managed to gasp out, and tried to pull me back toward my room. I refused to move.

"You need to do this, Leslie," I said to him, placing my hand on his wrapped around my arm.

He gave me a desperate look. "Will you go in first?"

I sighed. "Fine. But if you run off while I'm talking to her, then that's it, and I won't help you next time, okay?" I did not wish to be mean to him, but I felt he had to understand. He nodded, and let my arm go, backing into the shadows away from the door.

Left alone, I walked up to the door and knocked gently.

"Go away!" I heard Sarah croak from inside.

"Sarah?" I called through the door, "it's me, Becky. Can I come in?"

"Becky?"

"Yeah."

I heard her sniffle, then a shuffling sound. Soon, the lock on the door clicked, and Sarah slowly cracked it open, looking out at me through the gap.

"Are you alone?"

I shook my head. "Wait!" I called when she went to close the door.

"I don't wanna talk to anyone else!"

"They'll stay out here, it'll just be me coming in, okay?" I gave Leslie a look in the shadows, and he nodded, sinking down to the floor.

There was silence for a brief moment, then the door cracked again before swinging open, letting me into Sarah's room.

I walked in, and gave Sarah a long hug before casting about for a place to sit. Unlike the other Princesses, Sarah's room had a decidedly feminine look to it, as though she were trying to emphasize her girlishness in the middle of the sea of masculinity that was the all boys school. The walls were a pale green, and she had throws and comfortable mushroom chairs strewn about the room. She also obviously had obtained permission for custom bedding, her twin topped with a purple and green striped comforter with a large stuffed tiger sitting in the middle.

I settled onto her bed, and in a flash she had wound herself around me the same as Leslie had done in my own room.

"Oh, Becky, it was so horrible! I was just standing there, and all the lights were on, and they SAW!"

"They saw what?"

"They SAW, Becky! IT!"

I squeezed her gently, trying to comfort her, but I still did not understand what she was saying.

"Sarah, I still don't know..."

"They saw my panties!" She wailed, digging her nails into my arm. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, and did my best to bear it. "I haven't... I can't until I'm eighteen, and even then... it's... they SAW, Becky!"

"Shh, shh, it's okay Sarah. It's okay. Shh." I continued to pat her back as she cried into my shoulder, big gasping sobs, and wondered what she had done without anyone around. Looking at the tiger, I noticed its crumpled appearance and the tear stains on it's fur.

"They know, they know and they hate me. They... oh, Becky, I never want to go outside again!"

I finally got it. Sarah worked so hard to prove herself a girl every day, and the one thing in the entire world that absolutely proved her body was different had been put on display. She was mortified, she was scared, and she had nobody to turn to.

Except me.

It must have been half an hour again that I sat there and let her cry into my shoulder before her sobs finally calmed down, and when I gently shook her arm her head snapped up and she looked at me groggily.

"Wha?"

I laughed. "Did you fall asleep?"

She frowned, but did not start crying again.

"It's okay," I said before she could object. "I do have someone outside who wants to talk to you, though."

Panic crossed her face. "No! They all know! I can't-"

"Sarah!" She went silent, shocked by the harshness of my voice. "Sorry," I said to comfort her, "I didn't mean to yell. Nobody hates you, okay? Okay?"

She nodded, but said nothing.

"In fact, the person who wants to speak to you wants to apologize for what happened, but they were too upset to come in themselves at first."

"Leslie?"

I nodded.

"But... she grabbed my skirt! It ripped and-"

"I know, but it wasn't on purpose."

"I know, but..." She mumbled something, too quiet for me to hear.

"What was that?"

She sighed, and tears began to fall from her eyes again. "She knows now, and... he won't like me any more."

I gave her one more squeeze, and helped her up. "I can promise you that's not true," I said, leading her toward the door. Then I looked down. "But you might want to get dressed before I bring him in."

She looked down at herself, and let out a soft "Eep" before dashing for the closet and locking herself inside.

"Sarah..."

"You saw too!"

"So?" I said, exasperated, but still concerned for my friend. "Sarah, everybody here knows, and most everyone who was at the show already knew too. If there were any who didn't, well, they probably weren't paying attention to your panties."

"It's embarrassing!"

"I know, sweetie," I said, surprising myself with my own words, "but you've just got to face them and be strong."

After a long moment, she came out again, wearing a pair of feminine track pants with a tank top rather than the tatters of the dress. I opened my arms, and she gave me another crushing hug.

"Now, are you ready to talk to Leslie?"

She looked into my face and nodded her head slightly, and together we opened the door.

-18-

"I'm really really sorry about yesterday."

I gave Sarah a thin smile. "It's okay, stop apologizing."

She continued to cling to Leslie's arm as we made our way to the cafeteria for breakfast, with me on her other side for additional support.

I was tired. I was cranky. And I was dressed as a girl, again, though I only had myself to blame for the last one. We had been up past three in the morning, Leslie assuring Sarah that no, he did not hate her and no, he did not think she was weird and yes, he still wanted to be with her, all while I sat by and watched and helped to calm Sarah down during her occasional freakout.

The end consensus was that Sarah would be okay, but the one accident was enough, and she was determined never to go on stage again. We had convinced her that nobody at the school would think less of her, but she had refused to come out of her room for breakfast until we had both agreed to walk with her.

We had all spent the night in her room. Leslie was still wearing the clothes he had put on the night before, a couple of traces of eye makeup and chipped paint on his nails the only remnants from the play. I had wanted to go back to my own room to change into perhaps a comfortable pair of sweats and a baggy tee, but looking at Sarah and Leslie, both still nervous wrecks despite being reconciled, I decided it would be for the best if I could remain there for them as much as possible. Instead, Sarah had insisted I borrow some clean clothes from her since mine were crumpled and stained with tears again, and after a quick shower I was now wearing a pair of girl's jeans and a peasant top, hoping to spend at least Sunday dressed as a slovenly boy before classes resumed on Monday.

The halls were surprisingly quiet, even for a Saturday, and though I had almost been expecting him to be standing at the foot of the stairwell waiting for me, Andrew was nowhere to be seen. I took this as a small blessing, as I felt the less personal interaction Sarah had with the non-Princess males at the school until we knew she could remain calm the better.

It was a long, slow trip to the cafeteria, with both Leslie and I worried about Sarah and determined to turn right back around at the first sign of tears in Sarah's eyes. Luckily, as we made the trip she seemed to emotionally steel herself against the onslaught of abuse she was expecting, and when we at last reached the cafeteria doors she had a determined look on her still somewhat pale face.

Leslie and I shared a look before pushing the double doors open and stepping into the room.

Nothing happened.

No one in the room turned to look at us, or to jeer, or any other cruel action. No conversations stopped. If anything was out of the ordinary, it was how abysmally ordinary the entire cafeteria was acting.

All but one table.

Off in the corner, away from our normal table at the head of the room, sat the Princesses. All of them, including a rather uncomfortable looking Brandy and Wendy, had dressed in casual girl's clothes, and were waving us over.

For a second I was unsure of what was going on, until I saw Sarah visibly relax at the sight. Then I knew.

I kept an eye out as we made our way to the table, and started to notice more details about the layout for the day. The two tables to the exposed sides of the Princesses were both mostly full of students I knew and recognized as members of the Protectors, while even as I watched there were three or four others, including Andrew, Bobby, and Charles, roaming about the other tables, talking to the other students and especially focusing on the couple of tables where I could see several students giving Sarah cold and calculating glares.

When we reached the table, all the Princesses stood up and came forward to take turns wrapping Sarah in hugs and give her words of comfort.

As I watched, and saw a few tears of relief fall down Sarah's face, I finally knew that the Princess program, even with all its problems and annoyances, was exactly where I wanted to be at the school. Despite being boys at heart, all of the Princesses had embraced their femininity as fully as they could for the day in order to give Sarah the support she needed after the accident last night, something that none of them could have done as their boy selves, nor did I think that Sarah would have let them.

We settled at the table, and Sarah began to talk. And talk, and talk. She let it all out, everything we had helped her through the night before, but this time, she kept from freaking out. This time, she knew that she had not just my support, and not just Leslie's, but everyone's.

Occasionally, one of the Protectors would come over and speak to one of the girls furthest from Sarah, gathering information on her condition I took, until near the end of the meal the Head himself came up to the table, smiling.

"Good morning Sarah. Girls," he said, nodding to the rest of us. His face shifted to one of concern. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay? If there's anything I can do, please, do let me know."

Sarah gave him a smile of her own. "Thank you, sir. But, I think I'm gonna be alright." She looked around at us, and gave Leslie a small hug and a peck on the cheek, drawing a slightly disapproving look from the Head, but he said nothing.

"Well, that's good. Just remember, if you ever need to talk, you can either come to me, or the school's counselor. We're here for you, if you ever need us."

"Yes, sir."

The Head nodded his approval, and turned to go, but only made it a few steps before spinning around with a nervous expression on his face. "Oh. And, Sarah?"

"Yes?" She asked, curiously.

"Please, try to keep the public displays of affection down. We don't want all the other boys here to feel jealous they don't have a beautiful girl on their arm."

With a twinkle in his eye, he turned again to leave, and our entire table burst out laughing while Leslie and Sarah shared an embarrassed grin.

(End of Part 6)

Notes: Another slightly rushed part, I'm afraid. We've had computer errors at work for the past week, leaving me quite stressed and with little time or desire to write. However, I made myself sit down and slog through the mush that's left of my brain just so that you wouldn't have to miss the next part :P

Coming Soon: It's Halloween at Kingston Academy, and Becky and the other Princesses are less than enthused about their costumes. In addition, there's a surprise in a freshman who steps forward and ASKS to join the Princess program! Coming next Sunday (with any luck,) Princess For Hire Part 7: Princess Buttercup?

And as always, remember: if you comment, more will come. IF YOU COMMENT, MORE WILL COME.

Melanie E.