Page 102 of King of the Crease

“Promise me you will get back out there. I feel like you haven’t dated because of me.”

“I’ve wanted to be there for you. Your mother had enough romantic drama for both of us.”

“You were there for me. Now it’s your turn. Be your loud, proud bisexual self.”

I snort. Who’s the parent and who’s the child?

Brody and I sit back down to eat. I can’t stop smiling. The smartest person I know called me the smartest person he knows.

“What?” Brody asks, noticing I’m staring.

“Nothing.”

The TV playing in the background segues from the end of It’s a Wonderful Life to the local news. Our heads simultaneously whip to the screen when we hear Ardenia come out of the newscaster’s mouth.

“There’s poised to be a major shakeup in Ardenia. Reports are coming out that the king has been diagnosed with ALS. Prince Nicholas, heir to the throne, is reportedly planning to step back from the monarchy and renounce his rights to succession. Prince Nicholas of Ardenia, who recently caused a stir in Sourwood…”

Brody and I stare at each other in a state of shock.

“Dad,” he asks, “is it cool if I continue cursing?”

32

NICK

After being a good little royal for my entire life and rarely attracting controversy, I’ve now become a magnet for drama. First, I got drunk and kissed a man on camera. Then, I interrupt my father’s meeting to yell about abdicating the throne, the news of which promptly leaked. Technically, one cannot abdicate the throne before he becomes king, but rather renounce my rights to succession, so I can’t even have a dramatic outburst correctly.

The day after Christmas, I released a statement on my plans. Typing each word hurt more than the last. Agnes wept when she read it.

Is this what my mother would want? Is this what I want? Again, I couldn’t help feel that I was doing something because I was supposed to, and not because I wanted to.

Rejecting one’s birthright is a very confusing proposition.

To formally codify my plans requires an act of parliament, which is in recess until early January. I spent the days after Christmas hiding away in my wing of the castle. Father and I haven’t spoken, only exchanged head nods of acknowledgment in the rare times we pass each other.

My so-called “friends” haven’t reached out now that I won’t have any power in a week’s time. The only friend who’s called has been Millie. She offered to host me in Sourwood in case I wanted to come back once I’m a private citizen. Maybe you could reconnect with an old friend, she suggested.

Hank texted me, asking how I was doing, if I wanted to talk.

As much as I would love to see Hank, I burned that bridge so thoroughly, the fire department is still trying to put out the flames. Hank has a son and friends and a business. And I’m apparently a fucked-up mess. Soon to be broke, unemployed, with zero job skills, forever a global cautionary tale. He doesn’t need that in his life.

By New Year’s Eve, I am desperate to get out of the castle. I sneak through a quieter entrance, away from the lingering paparazzi, and wander the streets. I wear a hat and sunglasses to avoid suspicion. I marvel at full stores and restaurants, my fellow Ardenians. They are truly great people and don’t deserve to have a laughingstock as a leader.

I find myself walking to a familiar place. Saint Brigid’s Children’s Hospital. Mother and I used to come here to deliver presents during the holidays. Snow has begun to fall—soft flakes drifting past the car windows.

I go inside, not sure if I’m moving my legs or I’m possessed by the kind spirit of my late mother. Some of the nurses turn my way as they recognize me. I’m still the prince, so they don’t stop me from coming in.

A little girl curtsies dramatically when I approach.

“Your Highness,” she says solemnly.

I bow back just as dramatically. “Your Majesty.”

She giggles, and for the first time all day, something inside me loosens.

I visit rooms. I kneel beside beds and listen to stories about school and pets and favorite cartoons. One boy asks if I really live in a castle.

“I’m afraid so,” I tell him. “Very drafty. Terrible heating.”