Princess & the Pauper

Prologue Night skies in L.A. seem to stretch out forever, sending their warmth out to the entire world, rolling above the ocean and reaching the countries on the opposite shore. I imagined the air I was breathing right then drifting into Vineland, a country I knew so much about but had never seen.I could barely believe I was really standing here on this balcony, looking up at the familiar night sky -- the only familiar thing around me.My jeans were gone (with a floor-length black silk dress in their place), my hair was dyed (from ferret brown to shades of glossy gold), and my black plastic watch had been replaced by strands of glittering rubies. I could just imagine my mom's reaction if she saw them. "My God, Julia. Look at you," she'd say. "One of those bracelets is worth more than I make in five years."Of course, I wasn't Julia that day -- I was someone else.And it wasn't even about the dress, the hair, or the bracelet.I glanced quickly at Markus Ingvaldsson, son of Vineland's minister of cultural affairs. He stood next to me on the balcony and looked out toward the Pacific. His hair was messy from the wind and flopped in his face, and the arms of his tuxedo were a tiny bit too short. I looked down at his hands, beautiful hands with long, slim fingers. On his middle finger he wore the signet ring that had been handed down through the generations.Handed down through the generations.The closest I'd ever come to owning something with that much history was when I'd bought a pair of used Roller Blades at a garage sale.Markus caught my gaze and started to smile, revealing the adorable small dimple on his left cheek.That was it -- I was turning to mush inside all over again. And it was all wrong. Foreign dignitaries' sons were supposed to be stuffy and boring and pretentious. They weren't supposed to have strong arms, and they weren't supposed to have dimples! Because...well, because...Because I wasn't supposed to fall for anyone.According to Mom, not to mention YM and all the shows on the WB, falling for a guy is exactly what sixteen-year-old girls are supposed to do. But when you're trying to maintain your grade point average while figuring out a way to make sure you and your mother don't get evicted, you don't really have a lot of extra time to spend stressing about the new hottie who works at the Circle K. So I had reached my age, sixteen, without ever having had a boyfriend, a serious crush, or even a guy to go to the movies with. And that was just how I'd wanted it.How Istillwanted it...right?Markus's smile widened, the dimple got deeper, and I blinked, then took a step back from him and returned my gaze to the view over the balcony.I could see the lights of the Palisades and almost make out the dark waves of the Pacific Ocean. I'd waded out in that ocean many times. I'd jogged along the bike path that ran along the beach. I'd lain in the sand and tried to get an even tan, never quite getting it right.Inside the French doors that led to the ballroom, people were dancing in Armani tuxedos and rich jewel-toned silk gowns to music played by a string quartet. The air smelled like a mix of fresh flowers and expensive perfume. Everyone was perfectly relaxed, perfectly calm. Everyone except for me. How could I be calm? I was in big trouble.Just a little while ago Markus and I had waltzed together inside that room. The other dancers had cleared the floor to watch us, admiring the graceful way we moved together. And even that was a lie. In my regular life I wasn't graceful at all. I was always running into lockers, tripping over curbs, and spilling coffee down the front of my shirts. But not tonight.Suddenly I shivered, even though the breeze against my face was warm and soft."Are you cold?" Markus asked, moving closer to me."No," I said, in a voice I'd practiced in front of my mirror, my cat staring at me in confusion as I stBrian, Kate is the author of 'Princess & the Pauper', published 0011 under ISBN 9780689861734 and ISBN 0689861737.