Emily—my biggest vulnerability is the fact that I am a faerie princess, in exile. I meant for this to be a secret, but some girls at school—the ever popular “mean girls” stole my journal as a joke and found out what I am. To make things worse, one of their boyfriends kissed me—just out of the blue. Imagine how they feel about me now.
People believe that I am a huge freak. That I believe in faeries and a world that intersects ours, that I am a “dreamer” and someone who wouldn’t know reality if it bit her on the nose! Maybe they’re right. I have a tiny dragon that lives in my motel room, and a griffin parked on the roof. I know where the wizards and witches live in the city. I’ve seen angels and demons and every kind of fae disguised walking down the street.
My best friend, Morgan, is like me. Artistic, creative, misunderstood and broody. She’s an artist (and a really good one) but she always tells me what a romantic idiot I am. Like this guy I really liked turned out to be a real jerk and broke up with me by text message—TEXT MESSAGE! Is that lame, or what? But like a fool, I keep thinking about him and wondering why he even liked me in the first place—and vice versa. I guess I have a hard time letting things go
Morgan would say my best redeeming quality would be my faith in magic, and myself. I know what I am. I know there’s a secret world around us—I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it, I’ve been there.
It’s hard for me to think about what I want the most. I want to be able to live in a world where I won’t be chased and taunted by mean girls, where we can stop living on ramen every night and maybe get a real apartment in a good neighborhood and not live out of a hotel room. Morgan and I are hotel kids—old enough to be on our own, but still abandoned by the world from parents who left. Yet, we’re still young enough to miss and want parents, and have become our own little family. We want the same things everyone else does: love, acceptance, family. I want to reclaim my birthright as a faerie princess. At least for now.