First things come first; you'll find in this book. So, this is the first thing. Snuggle up to your pet, get under the blankets, and crack open this book. Ahhh. Feeling relaxed yet? Well, then, let the story begin!

             You're about nine years old. It doesn't matter if this book is in the past, present, or future for you. All you need to know is, it happened, and I'm going to tell you exactly how and why.

            Anyways, you're about nine years old, and always following your big sister around. You live in a picturesque, quaint little village. Well, not quite quaint, you think as you stare up and forwards. The mansion. It sits proudly on the edge of town, its sheer, huge mass hulking over the rest of the town. It's made of shiny, brown bricks, and has windows with black, iron frames. There're balconies on the first and second floors, and its shadow casts most of the town into a slight gloom at this time of day.

            You don't like the mansion much. It's a bit of an eyesore, your mother says. But never let the ‘duke', as they call him, hear you say that. Mr. Richly isn't a real duke, but he's very rich, like the name suggests. Meanwhile, most of your beloved town is falling apart, and the ‘duke' does nothing to help.

            Your sister, though, stops you from walking on. You skid to a stop just in front of the breadbasket on her arm. Phew. Mama would be mad if you ruined the day's deliveries. Your father is a baker in the village, and your mother is a cook-for the ‘duke' and his family.

            "I want to see if Miss Maria comes out," says your sister. Miss Maria, or just Mari, is Mr. and Mrs. Richly's daughter.

            "This is a bad idea," you say reluctantly. You don't like disagreeing with your sister, you never have. She can be a bit stubborn sometimes, and, even at nine years old, you aren't ready to stroll around town on your own. "We aren't even in our best dresses." You look down at your frock, if you can call it that, and hold your skirt up for your sister to see. It's a faded, light blue dress that barely reaches your knees. It used to be your best dress, but that was a long time ago. Now it's threadbare and patched, and certainly not something to meet Miss Maria in. But your sister sits down on a bench, her own threadbare dress faded pink and spread around her. You sit down next to her and wait.

            After a while, you say, "Luise, we need to deliver the bread. It's getting cold, and Mama will not be happy if the customers get cold bread, and they might complain about us being late, and then Papa will have no customers-all because of us!" This is the kind of town you live in, where everyone knows everyone and isn't afraid to tell.

            "Deliver it yourself!" snaps Luise. She's grumpy from waiting so long in the cold, and you are, too. Normally, you wouldn't dare to stand up to Luise, but she's the one stopping you from delivering the bread and going home to warm your hands by your father's bread oven.

            You frown. "I'm only nine!" you snap back. "You're meant to look after me, and it's your own fault we're out here in the cold!" This sparks a dangerous disagreement, and the disagreement turns into an argument.

            Your hands are chapped and cold, and even the cloth covering the bread in your basket feels absolutely freezing. You keep arguing with your sister, even though you know you'll be in big trouble when you get home-and so will your dad's business. It turns out you can be a bit stubborn, too. But you at least know when to stop. "Luise, stop pretending this is funny," you say. "We both know Papa's customers will be mad. We can't do this to him." It's nearly eight o'clock, which is when all the deliveries should be at the customers' doorsteps.

            Just then, Ms. Maria comes out of the mansion. You stop arguing. She's wearing normal clothes, not the extravagant ball gowns you imagined her in. You do a double take. Those clothes actually...aren't normal. They're basketball clothes. Mari, as you now think of her in those clothes, is wearing a basketball jersey, a short, divided skirt, and flexible shoes. She also flaunts a slightly entitled smile. Your sister Luise steps forward and seems to forget her manners. You don't, though, and you bob a slight curtsy. After all, this girl's family is important. Her father owns the nearby college.

            Her mother is a party planner, though you think that's awfully stereotypical. You'd rather see the world, but that won't happen, since your family doesn't have those funds. You'll be lucky to get a job other than cook or baker.

            Mari talks. "Don't curtsey, I'm not royalty." She's a little snooty, but you like her. "I'm Mari. What's your name?"

            Luise cuts in. "I'm Luise, Mari, and this is my little sister." She doesn't bother to introduce you. You frown and stick out your hand to shake with Mari. The sharp-eyed girl spots the breadbasket! You gasp. Will Luise be mad that Mari knows who your parents are? Did she want Mari to think that you and she are visiting dignitaries? Luise looks embarrassed. "Yeah, um..." she trails off, leaving you to make a good defense.

            You quickly choose the best option. "Mari, we're delivering bread. You may play with us, but you must come, if we're late, our father's customers will be mad." Mari knows the truth now. You take a deep breath and hold it, but Mari looks...not mad. Elated, even.

            "May I?" she asks eagerly. "I don't want to be recognized at all, you understand. I'm known around here, and, well...I'm simply dying for a normal day." You laugh as you start walking. Luise laughs, too. Mari starts laughing.

            "Oh, Mari," you say, "Of course you can come. But if you want to be normal, you need to act normal."

            "How do I do that?" Mari asks.

            "Just talk like I do," says Luise. "I'm normal, after all. And lose the fancy posture," she says, sweeping her gaze from Mari's high-held head and straight neck to her elongated back to her elegant walk. "Slump a bit. Yes, there you go...you got it!" she cheers. You decide to help as well.

            "Here, wear this shawl." You give her a blue-and-white gingham shawl from around your shoulders. "And mimic my voice. It'll help you ditch the accent."

            "What accent?!" exclaims offended Mari in a posh English accent. She apparently hears it just a tiny bit, because you all burst out laughing.

            It takes a few minutes to recover, but you keep walking, and soon you've finished delivering the bread. Mari's skirt is now hanging naturally, and the shawl covers her expensive top. She's using the same walk and posture as you now, and her long, dark curls hang richly over her back. She doesn't talk as much, and helps you carry the breadbasket, now weighed down with gold coins that you were given for your timely delivery.

            "Wow, your family must make a lot of money!" Mari exclaims. When she sees you blushing, though, she stops. "Oh, no," she apologizes. "I'm so sorry." Her accent comes back, and you hurry ahead of her and Luise. You've been doing a good job being cool and fitting in with the older girls, but your younger-ness is coming back now that you've embarrassed yourself. The truth is your house isn't fancy or grand. It's about the size of Mari's family's shed, the roof is leaking, and the floor is creaky. You had thought you had discreetly told Mari that you were poor, but it seems she didn't understand. You wipe a few tears from your eyes, walking briskly a few feet ahead of your new friend.

            Luise and Mari are talking about basketball. You try not to let your breath come out in sobs, but a few broken ones come through. They don't even notice, and that makes your brow furrow, and your arms wrap around yourself. They turn off onto a side street, towards the makeshift basketball court. You sigh and spin on your heel, sniffling desperately, trying to hold yourself together, as you hurry to lag only a few inches behind. You really want to belong. But can a side character really have her own story?

            You imagine Luise telling this story. She's much less imaginative than you. Today, she would say, Today, I met a duke's daughter. My little sister and I were delivering bread. We stopped to wait to see if the ‘duke's' daughter would come out. My sister thought the bread would grow cold, but I knew we had time. She did come out, and we were friends immediately. The End.

            You frown and sit down as Mari and Luise play basketball, throwing the old ball through the reed hoop. It has no net. You remember the weeks your mother spent weaving reeds into this shape while other adults made balls and de-cluttered the space. It took almost a month, but, on the day of your birthday, the basketball court was finally ready. You think back to the gold coins now sitting next to you, tucked safely into the breadbasket. You know you only got those because people thought something must be wrong if you were late, and because Mari looks dignified even when she acts like you. At least they'll help fix the roof, though. It costs a lot of money just to fix one shingle, because everyone here in town is poor. Even if you pay the roof-fixers all the extra money you just made, they'll have to use it on supplies to keep their business going.

            Mari comes over to you. "Hey, any chance you have some water?" You shake your head no. "Oh, okay," she says. "Luise just looks hot." You smile thankfully at her. It's hard to play basketball in a dress, you know that.

            "I'll go get her," you say, standing up, only a little bit wobbly. "Luise!" You call as you walk over to her. "Luise, we've missed breakfast!" She turns, dropping the ball and walking towards you. "Luise, we need to go," you say.

            "Okay," she says. Sometimes, Luise seems weird for no reason at all. You lead the way to your house, which is fairly near the court. In fact, all you have to do is make it over the fence.

            Mari squeals. "I'm scared," she admits. "That fence is pointy!"

            "It's only wire and metal on this side," you say. "Don't worry. Our side is plastic and wire. Just grab that part." Luise cups her hands, making you a little step. You climb onto it, grab hold of the top of the fence, and swing yourself over it, letting go once you're hanging from your arms. You cup your hands as Luise climbs onto the top of the fence. The blunt metal doesn't cut into her shoes at all, and Mari marvels. You know that she's never done anything like this in her life. Luise steps down from where she's carefully balanced on the top of the fence into your cupped hands, then down onto the ground. Next is Mari. She nervously jumps up and grabs hold of the fence...but she grabs hold of the wrong part. She screams and jerks her hands away from the metal a second after they touch. You wince. That's happened to you plenty of times, but, quite frankly, you aren't supposed to jump the fence. You hop back over the fence to help Mari as Luise runs the other way, around the block and towards the entrance to the court.

            Mari's not bleeding. Her palms are just scratched. You sigh. She's really never done this before. "I'm sorry," she says, and she is. You know when people are sorry. It's just a knack you have. "My palms touched plastic, but I thought they touched metal."

            "So did I," you say as Luise comes rushing in. "I don't understand-"

            "People are coming!" she cries. "With Mama and Papa!" You frown and nod, but you don't move. "What are you waiting for?" asks Luise. You shake your head.

            "Stay here. Mama and Papa will be mad. We aren't meant to do this." Your face is a straight line, and your heart is heavy in your chest. Mama will be so mad that she had to leave her work at the manor to come find you, and Papa will be so...so...so disappointed. Papa doesn't get mad; he just gets disappointed. He usually says, ‘did I really raise you two to do this? Why would you do something to bad?'

            Luise frowns and sticks her tongue out at you. Great. Another argument. "But we'll get in trouble!" she pleads. You stare at her coldly. "I know I did it first," she says, "And I know I made you try it." You stand there, waiting, in the cold, as two distinguished voices get closer. Mama and Papa's voices. "But I won't apologize," she says firmly, crossing her arms. "I'm already in trouble, and you're not."

            "Guys?" Mari buts in. "Thanks for giving me such a fun day," and you can tell she's really loved being normal. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble. I'll confess." You shake your head as Luise nods. Mari hangs her head low and gazes up at your parents, who are now standing in front of you.

            Mari starts to stammer, trying to speak, but you interrupt her. "Mama, Papa," you say, "I'm sorry. Luise might have started the two of us climbing over the fence, and Mari might have given us away, but I got obsessed with it, and I made us climb the fence-this time," you confess nobly. Your stomach is all wobbly and snake-like. What will your parents think of your grown-up apology? Your mother's face softens when she sees Mari. Your mom is a cook for the mansion. Your dad looks disappointed. Your mom looks straight at Luise.

            "Lu-ise," she snaps, "Young lady. What will I do with you? First the chickens, then the bread, then, for the third time today, climbing a fence that I'm sure you've climbed for a while. Go play. I'll talk to you two later," she finishes off her speech.

            For the rest of the day, you watch your sister play games with Mari, and, for once in the day, you're happy to be on the outside, contented with a full belly from the pancakes your father brought to the court for breakfast, sleepy and happy while your sister and new friend run around dribbling a ball. The sun sets, and you're grateful for this day you've had, and for Mari's abnormally normal day.

...

            That evening, after dusk, you're at home, sitting at your spot at the round dinner table with your family, but no one's eating. Supper was quick and silent, and you're anxious about what will happen next. Your mother says in a stern voice, "Girls, it's very wrong to break the rules and then hide your breach of them from us." You nod, a guilty feeling stuck far down in your stomach, a knot in your throat that stops you from speaking. "But" she says in a lighter tone of voice, "Fences are pretty fun to climb, and I broke rules and made mistakes hiding them when I was your ages. Luise, as the older sister, I expect better from you. You tempted your little sister into breaking the rules. You will help your father during the day for the next week."

She turns to you. You gulp, feeling like your punishment is a predator about to close in now that it has your sister. "You went along with your sister." Your mother states this fact plainly, like an old brown dress. "That was wrong." Your dad escapes to bed. You sit there, waiting. Luise slumps, poking her potatoes with her fork. "But" she says for the second time that evening, "You owned up to your mistakes and stood up to your sister. You were willing to save someone who was accidentally hurt during your rule-breaking, even though they gave you away, and were willing to break the rules again and risk hurting yourself to get to them efficiently, even though it turned out to just be a scratch. For that, you will help your father at the front desk and make bread deliveries tomorrow. Case dismissed." You head to your room as Luise washes the dishes, thinking, I love my family. And I'll try my best to never do anything bad again.

Crawling into bed in an old nightdress, you loosen the bow on the collar and pull the blanket up to your chin as your mother comes in.

"Thanks, Mama," you say. "I love you, and I'll try my very best to never break the rules again. I promise." She smiles, and you hold up twelve thick board books and five medium-size picture books, and she laughs, really laughs, so much that you start laughing a bit, too. She sits down on your bed and reads every single book as many times as you want in incredible detail, pointing out little funny bits of the picture that the illustrator put in to make you laugh even more.

"Once upon a time," she begins, "There was a faraway princess, in a faraway land..." And the princess becomes a figment of your dreams.

The End (until tomorrow)