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Madeline Pirkl
Hour 3
Final Short Story

The plane finally took off after an hour-long delay. Cam was asleep in the seat next to me so I pulled out my iPod. I was too keyed up to sleep. We were going to England for a class trip. It was entirely for historical learning purposes but that didn’t change the fact that we were going to England! I’d waited nine months for this, and it was finally happening!  Our class had gotten permission from the Queen—the Queen!—to spend three weeks living in one of the castles. The castle was supposedly home to some great Prince who fell in love with a servant girl. As the story goes, the servant girl had been the daughter of a noble, a Baron, I think. Anyway, her father got married to some title-less noble who only married him for his title. Soon after the marriage, though, the girl’s father died, and her stepmother—and stepsisters—began treating her like a servant.  When she grew older, the girl met the Prince by accident. He thought she was a courtier, and slowly fell in love with her. Before long, the King announced that his son would have to marry, and at the kingdom’s annual ball, the Prince announced that he would marry the servant girl. She told him then of her true status, and he decided that he didn’t care. They were married soon after that and lived happily ever after. At least, that’s the amount of the story I got. I don’t know any of the details, but that’s your real life Cinderella for you.
“You may remove your seatbelts, now,” said the calm overhead voice. “You are free to move about the cabin as you please.”
Cam mumbled in his sleep and rolled over. I giggled. One side of his wavy brown hair was smashed to the side of his head. I watched him for a moment before nature called, and I took my seatbelt off to go find the bathroom.
When I got back ten minutes later, after waiting in line behind six people, Cam was awake.
“Hey, Ash,” he greeted sleepily, running his hands through his hair. He shifted around until he was seated comfortably upright. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” I answered. “I just got through my…third song on shuffle before I had to go.”
He smiled. “How long ‘til we get there?”
“Oh…only about ten hours. We just left Jersey.”
“What? How long was I out?”
“’Bout an hour,” I said, plopping down into my seat. I sat with my back to the aisle so I could talk to him more easily.
“Geez,” he ran his hands through hair again and pushed up the long sleeves of his black shirt. “It took that long for the plane to take off?”
I nodded rapidly. “Yep. So anyway, what should we do now?”
“Ashlyn!” someone shouted, making us both jump. “Sit back properly in your seats. You don’t want to ruin the trip for yourself before we even make it off the plane.”
It was Ms. Winters, one of the school’s history teachers. She was always stuck up, wearing her nasty gray hair in a tight bun.  Her closet seemed to only be full of business suits and ugly flower print dresses. She never let loose, either. On days when there was nothing to do in class, she would come up with something extra for us to do.
“Sorry Ms. Winters,” I called.
I faced forward and rolled my eyes at her back. Fortunately, she had only been our teacher in ninth grade. Now, we had the cool and more exciting Mr. O’Toole. He was the one that set up the trip for us. His cousin was married to a friend of the sister of the Queen’s main advisor. Quite a chain, I admit, but it got us to England.
“What’s her problem?” Cam asked. “She always picks on you. Besides, if we can have our seatbelts off, what’s it matter if we ‘sit back properly’?”
“I get the feeling she doesn’t care,” I said. “She hates me.”
“Ugh.” He folded his arms in irritation. “How would that ‘ruin’ the trip, anyway?”
I laughed. “Why don’t you just go back to sleep? Maybe you’ll less be cranky when we get there.”
“Heh, yeah, maybe,” he said and put his seat back. I saw him peek out of the corner of his eye to smile at me. I grinned back and pulled my iPod out again.
* * *
“Ash,” I heard the voice and felt the shaking on my shoulder, but waking seemed very unlikely. “Ashlyn, wake up. We’re in England…Ash? ASHLYN!”
I shot up from my chair and asked “What?”
Cam chuckled. “The plane landed. It’s morning. And we’re in England.”
I perked up. “Oh, that’s right!”
He chuckled again, heaving his carry-on over his shoulder in order to pull mine down. “Yeah, come on. Ms. Winters is gonna freak if we don’t get off this plane soon.”
I reached out to take my bag from him, but instead, he bolted. I stared at the empty space until time caught up with me, and I realized what happened.
Racing after him, I yelled, “Cam! Get back here.” I ran off the ramp, into the airport terminal, and right into…
“Ms. Winters!” I gasped. “I was just trying to hurry up…so I wouldn’t be late for…”
“Just go and join Cameron with Mr. O’Toole, please,” she drawled irately.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Several hours later, after the longest and most interesting bus ride atop a double-decker, our class arrived at the castle. I saw it from about a mile away. It was made of stone and mortar with over a dozen towers. Once we got off the bus, and once our stuff was unloaded, the class was led through a pair of humungous double wooden doors and into a large foyer.
A multitude of paintings and tapestries hung on all the walls of the entrance hall. One near a massive staircase was a painting of a teenage girl with long, flowing, fair hair beside a tall prince with dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She sat in a blue velvet chair, and he stood behind her, looking down at her, while she looked up at him. Their expressions were those only of a young couple in love.
“Hey, Ashlyn.”
I jumped. As I’d been staring at the painting, a classmate of mine, Sean, had come up behind me.  “That girl kinda looks like you.”
“What?” I asked, skeptical, tucking my own fair hair behind one ear.
“Yeah, see?” he pointed at the girl. “She has the same exact hair…and you see her eyes? They’re practically the exact same green.”
“Hair color and eye color do not mean I look like her.”
“But her profile matches yours.”
“It does not.” I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. Sean was an art student, and he just liked to show off his art skills.
“It does! Look. Stand here.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me over to stand next to the painting.
“Sean, will you just leave her alone?” Cam said.
“It’s okay, Cam,” I said and joined him at the foot of the stairs.  Sean remained next to the painting appearing somewhat annoyed.
I thought I heard him mumble something about the Prince’s appearance being a lot like Cam’s. Ignoring his comment, I headed up to the top of the stairs where the teachers were assigning rooms. Miraculously, Cam and I each got our own rooms. They were across the hall from one another, each with its own gigantic bed covered with a ton of pillows and a fluffy comforter.
“Wow,” he said. “Your room is almost as big as mine.” He crossed his arms haughtily and leaned in my doorway with an arrogant smile.  He’d changed into his Renaissance costume for dinner; instead of his usual blue or black t-shirt, he now wore a blood red tunic with his black pants. It brought out the reds in his amazing dark brown eyes.  The outfit fit his hairstyle better too; he typically cut in the style of a sixteenth century prince.
I held in a snicker and said, “Well don’t you look nice.”
He placed one hand over his heart. “Your sarcasm is heartfelt.”
Grinning, I stood up to hug him. He hugged me back and asked, “Are you gonna change for dinner?”
“I was about to and then you appeared in my doorway.”
Cam held up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry! Here.” He turned with his back to me. “I won’t look. I promise.”
“Get out,” I said, laughing as I shoved him out the door.
* * *
At dinner, we went down to the great dining hall. More paintings and tapestries hung in here as well.  Above one fireplace hung another painting of the same couple from before. The girl was wearing a green sixteenth century style dress. Like most women’s clothing from the Renaissance, starting from the waist, it laced up the front to just above the breast.  Her skirt flowed in layers down to her feet with matching sleeves. The bell sleeves started at the elbow and extended almost to her knees. Around her neck was a gold necklace with a green heart shaped stone. Her long fair hair was half tied back in an array of elaborate braids. The rest hung loose, curled into perfect little ringlets. The Prince stood beside her again and held her hand.
“Ashlyn,” said a voice behind me. I jumped again. “That girl is wearing the same thing as you.”
“No she isn’t,” Cam said. He was clearly irritated for some reason.
“Whatever you say, Cam,” said Sean, knowing when to back off. He gave my costume another once over and walked away.
“That guy never knows when to quit.” That’s what he said, but I saw him comparing my dress to the painting too. Then, I noticed that Cam’s costume matched the Prince’s.  Just as I was about to point it out to him, though, Ms. Winters shouted above the din of voices. I guessed I would just have to leave it alone.

Later that evening, after we were sent back to our rooms with group assignments and schedules, Cam came to my room.
“We’re supposed to go bed,” I told him.
“Yeah, I know that. But I wanted to congratulate you on being in my group.” He held up a slip of paper between two fingers, grinning as if simply happy about group assignments. But I knew his grin said he was up to something.
My brow creased, eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something.”
The smile faded, and he admitted, “Yeah, you got me.”  He swung the chair out from under the desk and sat on it. “Let’s sneak out tonight.”
“Whaaat?”
“Come on, Ash!” He stood up and put his hands on my shoulders. “You have to come with me. There’s all sorts of stuff in this place that they’ll never show us.”
“Cam!” I whined. “Do you know what kind of trouble we’d get in if we got caught?”
“Then we won’t get caught.” His eyebrows rose, and he looked so hopeful.
I stared at him disbelieving for a moment longer. Then I sighed. “Fine. Just let me change.”
“No time.” He grabbed my hand. “You’ll just have to come in that.” And he dashed from the room.
“No, Cam, wait. I can’t go gallivanting around a castle in this dress!”
But he wasn’t listening to me.  Cam dashed around a corner and through a door I hadn’t noticed before. He led me down a narrow staircase lit by very few sconces. Our shadows flickered around every corner. Finally we reached the bottom and a wide corridor opened up.  It was darker than before and more frightening. The shadows jumped out at me and I screamed. Cam slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Sorry,” I squeaked when he pulled it away. “The shadows…”
He chuckled. My glare was wasted on him in the dark.
He took my hand in his again, and I felt calmer when he did. It was comforting to know he was looking out for me.  I held my skirts in my other hand, trying desperately not to trip over them. As we went further down the hall, it got darker. I became more anxious with each step I took. Just when I was beginning to think we would soon be in total darkness, a door emerged at the end of the tunnel. Cam grinned over his shoulder and pushed it open.  The room beyond was absolutely tiny. One candle lit the whole room, but it was brighter in the smaller space.
”Ash,” Cam whispered, causing me to jump yet again. “Look at this.”
He was holding a gold necklace with a stone the shape of a heart.  I thought it was an emerald, but I wasn’t entirely sure. “What is it?” I asked.
He slapped my arm lightly. “It’s a necklace, duh.”
“Okay…put it back.”
“Why?” Now he was getting whiny. “You should put it on.” He stood behind me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I warned as he closed the clasp beneath my hair. “Or not…”
“I knew it! It totally matches your dress!”
“That’s great and all, Cam, but I should not be wearing this necklace.”
“But you look so cute.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. Blush filled my face up to the roots and a warm flurry of butterflies flooded my stomach.
Suddenly, my vision became blurry. “Cam…”I mumbled. “I…I don’t feel so good…”
“I…don’t either…Ash…” he said. His grip on my waist slackened.
I slumped forward, and my faced smashed into the floor. I thought Cam fell next to me; But I was already unconscious.

The first sound I heard upon waking was splashing water. It confused me since my last memory happened to be sneaking out of my room on a class trip with Cam. Before I figured it out, though, a wet rag splashed onto my forehead, forcing my eyes open. Fully conscious now, I realized I was staring into a familiar pair of dark eyes.
“Cam,” I mumbled. “What happened?”
“You fell down the stairs, Milady,” said Cam’s voice but I felt like this wasn’t Cam.
“Stop joking around, Cam,” I said. “Seriously, what happened?”
“I am sorry,” the supposed Cam apologized. “I think you have mistaken me for someone else. I am not ‘Cam’. My name is Aren. Prince Aren of England.”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Cam,” I grumbled. “Stop fooling around.”
“What is your name, Milady?” said ‘Prince Aren’. He did not sound like he was joking at all, which was odd since Cam never spoke old English unless he was kidding around.
“You know my name. It’s Ashlyn.”
“Lady Ashlyn,” he said earnestly, “I am telling you the truth: I am not Cam. My name is Prince Aren.” He looked me directly in the eye and I saw something there that Cam rarely had: honesty.
“Oh, goodness,” I sighed. “You are telling the truth. Th-then…what year is it?”

Cameron woke with a watermelon-sized headache. He could barely open his eyes for the pain, but he tried anyway. What he saw first was a pair of well-known green eyes. He smiled at them and the face behind the eyes smiled back.
“You are awake!” said the recognizable voice of Ashlyn. “You must have fallen very hard, Lord…um…”
“Cameron,” he answered. Did I just agree to being a Lord? he thought just before it occurred to him that this could not be Ashlyn. “Hey…where am I?”
“You are in the manor of the Baroness where I, her servant, was told to look after you.”
Yep, she was definitely not Ashlyn. Ashlyn would never admit to being a servant. “What year is it?” he inquired.
She giggled. “Why, it is 1508.”

“1508?” I nearly shouted, shooting up off the bed.
“Yes,” he answered. “For almost six months now.” His smile was almost patronizing only I knew he just wanted to lighten the mood.
Oh, crap. Ms. Winters was going to kill me. And Cam if he was here. Oh my goodness! Cam! Had he been sucked into this as well? Shit! What if he had? He’d probably get himself thrown into the dungeon, and then where would we be?
“…shlyn…Ashlyn?” the Prince pulled me out of my reverie. “Is something wrong?”
“Huh? No. Nothing wrong.”
He smiled Cam’s smile, the one that always made me smile back and got me into a lot of trouble because I was unable to resist it. “If nothing is wrong…would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my father’s ball tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” I felt the urge to refuse instantly blocked by that smile. “Okay.”
“Wonderful.” He swept my hands into his. “I shall have a dress made for you immediately. Marie!”
A small Asian woman immediately scurried into the room. She carried what I assumed to be an old-fashioned tape measure. She was kinda creepy, not smiling, not showing any emotion what so ever.
“I’ll leave you to your work, Marie,” Aren said. “Ashlyn, I will meet you in the dining hall for lunch when you are finished here.”
I shot him a helpless look hoping he would understand I did not want to be alone with this creeper. He chuckled, just like Cam, and left. So, I was alone now…with an irate little Asian woman who, without further ado, yanked out her tape and found every possible inch of me to measure for my costume.

Cameron sat bolt upright. “1508? Seriously?” His head spun, dizzy with headache.
“Yes,” the girl replied with a nod.
“Dammit! Um…okay,” Cam took a deep breath. “Then, well, who are you?”
She laughed just like Ashlyn; he had to keep reminding himself that she was not Ashlyn. “I am Isabella.
“All right, Isabella, how did I—“
“ISABELLA!” an older lady shrieked at the top of her lungs as she strode regally into the small room. “Why have you not begun your chores?” Cameron nearly jumped up off the cot. The old lady looked exactly like Ms. Winters with her hair tied back in a bun and the ugliest choice of clothing any woman had ever known.
“I am sorry, Stepmother,” Isabella mumbled. “I was only attending to Lord Cameron as you asked me to.”
Stepmother? Cameron thought, and his confusion slowly cleared into realization.
“Who?” her eyes flicked toward Cameron, and she did a double take. “Oh! Lord Cameron, the young man who was found unconscious on our property?” All thought left his head when she eyed him like that.
Isabella nodded.
“Return to your chores then, Isabella. Your stepsisters and I will handle his recovery from here.”
She nodded again and exited the room. Now Cam was left alone with the old lady. She watched him closely with a creepy smile on her face. Not a word was exchanged for several minutes, until finally, the lady spoke.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked.
Cam’s brow creased momentarily. “The Baroness?” It sounded like a question to his ears, and he prayed that wasn’t what it sounded like to her.
“Yes,” she said agreeably. “I have a lot of influence in this kingdom, you should know. You’d do well to heed what I say.”
“Really,” he muttered under his breath, “’Cause I thought Baron was the lowest title anyone could have…”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. What were you saying?”
“I was merely hinting that it would not do you harm to—“
“MOTHER!” shouted an angry young girl. She sprinted into the room, holding up her skirts and somehow, she still managed to trip over them. She certainly wasn’t the prettiest girl ever, but she wasn’t too misfortunate looking with murky brown eyes and poorly applied make-up. “Why hasn’t Isabella finished with the laundry? I need my costume for the ball tomorrow night!”
“Calm down, Evangeline,” the Ms. Winters clone said carefully. “I just sent her upstairs.”
Evangeline flipped her straggly brown hair over one shoulder and folded her arms in a pout. “Fine…oh,” her expression rapidly changed to excitement, “who is this?” She’d set eyes on Cameron. He nearly flinched away from her look, but instead forced a smile.
“This is Lord Cameron,” her mother replied. “He has offered to take you to tomorrow night’s ball.”
“Wait. What!” Cam jumped up off the bed. “I never—“
“Oh, but you so wanted to thank us for our hospitality a moment ago.”
“No, I didn—“
“But you do now, do you not?”
He stared from one face to the next. The Baroness’s calm, persuasive face and Evangeline’s overly hopeful face made him want to scream. But, finally, he said, “Yeah, I guess I can take you to the ball.” He dreaded the idea of dancing, and now he had to dance with the ugly stepsister, literally.

The night of the ball arrived more quickly than I imagined it would. My costume was made in less than a day—a complete shock to me—and now, I was being readied to head down to the great ballroom of the castle. This was something they had not shown us yet back home, and I was certain to be duly unimpressed when—if—I got back home by its shabby appearance from years of wear and tear.
Aren picked me up right outside my room wearing a stunning red velvet tunic with rubies braided into his long hair. At his belt hung a rapier; I wasn’t sure what he needed it for, but it completed his appearance. He held out his arm to me on which I gracefully placed my own.
“You look beautiful, Lady Ashlyn,” he said as we walked towards the ballroom.
I blushed furiously. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He laughed, and I forgot for a second that he wasn’t Cam. I guess that’s easy to do when the guy looked and sounded just like him.

Evangeline, the Baroness, and her sister waited as patiently as is possible for a family of arrogant nobles in the foyer for Lord Cameron to finish getting ready for the ball.
However, that was not what he was doing. He was trying to convince Isabella to come. He had forced out of her the story of her father’s marriage to the Baroness, and she had reluctantly told him that that was the story of her life—as he expected. Her father, as he saw in paintings, looked exactly like Mr. O’Toole. That’s when all the pieces clicked, and Cameron figured out that he was in the story of the couple that had lived in the castle five hundred years ago. And if that was true, Ashlyn must be at the ball too. So he had to get Isabella there; only then could they get things straightened out and get home.
“I cannot, Cameron,” she whispered frantically. “What if she catches me?”
“She won’t!” he wanted to yell. “It’s a masquerade! No one will no you’re you!”
She bit her lower lip. “How will I get there?”
“Your stingy stepmother has another carriage, doesn’t she?”
She nodded. “But she will recognize it.”
Cameron placed both hands on her shoulders, begging her to listen. “It will be all right. Trust me.” He gave her one of the smiles he always gave Ashlyn when he was trying to get her to be disobedient. It never failed.
Once more, she nodded, and Cameron bolted for the front door. “Sorry I took so long,” he called down the stairs. “I couldn’t possibly accompany such a beautiful girl if I didn’t look equally as good.”

The ballroom was exquisite. The ceiling reflected the elaborate floor, which portrayed swirling spirals of gold flowers on a glistening white marble surface. Mirrors lined the walls also so millions of dancing figures twirled around the room. It made me dizzy.
“Are you going to be all right?” Aren whispered in my ear.
My head jerked in his direction. “What? Oh, yes…I’m fine.”
“Do not worry about the staring,” he said.  Great, now I would be worrying about the staring. “No one expected me to bring you.” Wonderful, just wonderful. Now I find out I get to be the center of attention.
Aren, on the other hand, was used to it so he simply asked me to dance. With reluctance, since I had no idea what the dance steps were and was otherwise incapable of dancing, I agreed. He took my hand in one of his and carefully placed the other on the small of my back. He then carried me out onto the dance floor leading me through the steps with ease. The decorations of green and gold whirled before my eyes, almost making me dizzier.
As the Prince, Aren was eventually made to live up to his obligations and dance with every eligible noblewoman in the kingdom. Therefore, I stayed safely off to the side and watched Aren lead airhead after airhead through the steps. Noblewoman really weren’t that bright, were they?
Just as I was beginning to relax with so many people staring at me, somebody asked, “May I have this dance, Lady Ashlyn?” I jerked around, expecting to find Aren behind me and instead found…
“CAM!” I gasped excitedly. “You are here! Thank goodness.” I threw myself into his arms.
When he pulled back from the embrace with his hands on my shoulders; his eyes locked on mine for a moment, as if he were deciding. My brow creased in question. He said nothing for a long minute and then, finally, he said, “Ash! I have someone for you to meet!”
“Huh?” I said, taken aback.
Cam pulled away from me and behind stood a slight girl with long blond hair and familiar green eyes. Those were my green eyes. I inhaled slowly and my eyes widened as I recognized the girl behind the mask.
“Ash?” Cam said, waving a hand in front of my face. “Ashlyn, this is Isabella.”
I nodded slowly. Isabella pulled off her mask, and I thought I was looking in a mirror. “Oh my gosh,” was all I could say. “Who are you?”
“Isa—“ Cam began but I cut him off.
“I heard you. But what I want to know is…who is she…to me?”
“Oh! I think she’s your past life. If I’m right—which, let’s face it, I always am—you should have met my past life?”
“I think so.” I pointed in the direction of Prince Aren’s dancing figure on the ballroom floor.
Cam froze for a fraction of a second. “Whoa.”
Isabella spoke, then, and I flinched at the sound of my own voice. “Lord Cameron?” I snickered. Lord Cameron? “Might we find a place to speak to His Highness, Prince Aren?” I noticed a light blush in my—her—cheeks. Had she met the Prince before?
“Good idea. Ash,” he turned to me, and I felt my stomach burn with nervous butterflies, though I had no idea why. “Go get ‘Aren’ and bring him out to the balcony. Make sure no one comes with.”
I nodded briefly. Aren was just bowing to his last partner—the end of the dance—so I hurried out to him. “Aren!” I panted as I reached him.
“Lady Ashlyn!” he exclaimed happily. “You are out of breath. Why—“
“Don’t worry about it. Will you come with me onto the balcony…please?”
“Of course. You must just need some air. It is rather hot in here…”
I let him babble as we hastened outside. Once we’d pushed open the double doors, he gasped and then smiled, as if he had come to his own conclusion about seeing a girl identical to his date.
“You have a twin,” he declared, proving my point.
“No. I don’t,” I said bluntly. “Cam, can you explain? It’s your theory.”
Cam nodded and stepped out of the shadows. “If she has a twin, then you must too.” Aren gasped again while Cam smiled the same smile Aren had worn moments before.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Cameron. I come from the year 2008 and so does Ashlyn,” he gestured towards me, “I am not sure how we came to be here, anyway, this, here, is Isabella, and I believe she is the girl you are supposed to be with.”
Isabella blushed furiously up to the roots of her hair. I imagined that’s how I appeared when I blushed. Aren walked over to her quietly, calmly, and took both of her hands in his.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he inquired. I had no clue what he was talking about. “The girl I met in the market that day, was you.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Yes. But I must tell you—“
“You are not a Countess.” His expression, to my surprise, was not angry. He seemed…overjoyed to have actually found the girl he was looking for.
Behind me, Cam had placed a hand on my shoulder. We decided to leave the two alone and return to the ballroom. He led me across the dance floor, out to an alternate balcony, and waited for the few couples to leave before speaking.
“For fear of sounding cheesy, Ash,” he started, “I’m just gonna plunge right in.” He paused. I stared at him, confused again by his words this evening, but I let him continue. “If these are our past lives, then that means something about us, right?”
“Cam, I have no idea what you’re talking about—“ He didn’t give me the opportunity to finish. Instead, his lips met mine in a long, lingering kiss. When the kiss broke, all I could say was, “Oh.”
“Oh? My literary, history geek has nothing more to say?” he smiled, placing one hand gingerly over on my cheek.
I put my own hand over his to hold it there. “It only means I understood what you were saying.” I smiled up at him, and he took the opportunity to kiss me again. I kissed him back in earnest.
We broke apart again, and the scenery around had changed. It seemed we were back in that tiny basement room. The door to the room was open, and Ms. Winters stood outside it, glaring in at us.
“I should have known you two would sneak out in the middle of the night to do something like this,” she sneered.
Mr. O’Toole waited patiently behind her, laughing quietly to himself.
“You two will be on probation for the remainder of this trip,” Ms. Winters said sternly.
“Oh, give them a break, Fran,” Mr. O’Toole demanded. Fran? I repressed a snicker. “It’s just their first offense.”
She scoffed and stalked off in a huff.
“Thanks, Mr. O’Toole,” Cam and I both said.
“Don’t mention it. I always knew you two’d end up together.”
Bright fuchsia blush filled my cheeks. Cam squeezed my hand. After that, we headed back up to our rooms and thus began our trip in England.

Description
Madeline Pirkl
Hour 3
Final Short Story

The plane finally took off after an hour-long delay. Cam was asleep in the seat next to me so I pulled out my iPod. I was too keyed up to sleep. We were going to England for a class trip. It was entirely for historical learning purposes but that didn’t change the fact that we were going to England! I’d waited nine months for this, and it was finally happening!  Our class had gotten permission from the Queen—the Queen!—to spend three weeks living in one of the castles. The castle was supposedly home to some great Prince who fell in love with a servant girl. As the story goes, the servant girl had been the daughter of a noble, a Baron, I think. Anyway, her father got married to some title-less noble who only married him for his title. Soon after the marriage, though, the girl’s father died, and her stepmother—and stepsisters—began treating her like a servant.  When she grew older, the girl met the Prince by accident. He thought she was a courtier, and slowly fell in love with her. Before long, the King announced that his son would have to marry, and at the kingdom’s annual ball, the Prince announced that he would marry the servant girl. She told him then of her true status, and he decided that he didn’t care. They were married soon after that and lived happily ever after. At least, that’s the amount of the story I got. I don’t know any of the details, but that’s your real life Cinderella for you.
“You may remove your seatbelts, now,” said the calm overhead voice. “You are free to move about the cabin as you please.”
Cam mumbled in his sleep and rolled over. I giggled. One side of his wavy brown hair was smashed to the side of his head. I watched him for a moment before nature called, and I took my seatbelt off to go find the bathroom.
When I got back ten minutes later, after waiting in line behind six people, Cam was awake.
“Hey, Ash,” he greeted sleepily, running his hands through his hair. He shifted around until he was seated comfortably upright. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” I answered. “I just got through my…third song on shuffle before I had to go.”
He smiled. “How long ‘til we get there?”
“Oh…only about ten hours. We just left Jersey.”
“What? How long was I out?”
“’Bout an hour,” I said, plopping down into my seat. I sat with my back to the aisle so I could talk to him more easily.
“Geez,” he ran his hands through hair again and pushed up the long sleeves of his black shirt. “It took that long for the plane to take off?”
I nodded rapidly. “Yep. So anyway, what should we do now?”
“Ashlyn!” someone shouted, making us both jump. “Sit back properly in your seats. You don’t want to ruin the trip for yourself before we even make it off the plane.”
It was Ms. Winters, one of the school’s history teachers. She was always stuck up, wearing her nasty gray hair in a tight bun.  Her closet seemed to only be full of business suits and ugly flower print dresses. She never let loose, either. On days when there was nothing to do in class, she would come up with something extra for us to do.
“Sorry Ms. Winters,” I called.
I faced forward and rolled my eyes at her back. Fortunately, she had only been our teacher in ninth grade. Now, we had the cool and more exciting Mr. O’Toole. He was the one that set up the trip for us. His cousin was married to a friend of the sister of the Queen’s main advisor. Quite a chain, I admit, but it got us to England.
“What’s her problem?” Cam asked. “She always picks on you. Besides, if we can have our seatbelts off, what’s it matter if we ‘sit back properly’?”
“I get the feeling she doesn’t care,” I said. “She hates me.”
“Ugh.” He folded his arms in irritation. “How would that ‘ruin’ the trip, anyway?”
I laughed. “Why don’t you just go back to sleep? Maybe you’ll less be cranky when we get there.”
“Heh, yeah, maybe,” he said and put his seat back. I saw him peek out of the corner of his eye to smile at me. I grinned back and pulled my iPod out again.
* * *
“Ash,” I heard the voice and felt the shaking on my shoulder, but waking seemed very unlikely. “Ashlyn, wake up. We’re in England…Ash? ASHLYN!”
I shot up from my chair and asked “What?”
Cam chuckled. “The plane landed. It’s morning. And we’re in England.”
I perked up. “Oh, that’s right!”
He chuckled again, heaving his carry-on over his shoulder in order to pull mine down. “Yeah, come on. Ms. Winters is gonna freak if we don’t get off this plane soon.”
I reached out to take my bag from him, but instead, he bolted. I stared at the empty space until time caught up with me, and I realized what happened.
Racing after him, I yelled, “Cam! Get back here.” I ran off the ramp, into the airport terminal, and right into…
“Ms. Winters!” I gasped. “I was just trying to hurry up…so I wouldn’t be late for…”
“Just go and join Cameron with Mr. O’Toole, please,” she drawled irately.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Several hours later, after the longest and most interesting bus ride atop a double-decker, our class arrived at the castle. I saw it from about a mile away. It was made of stone and mortar with over a dozen towers. Once we got off the bus, and once our stuff was unloaded, the class was led through a pair of humungous double wooden doors and into a large foyer.
A multitude of paintings and tapestries hung on all the walls of the entrance hall. One near a massive staircase was a painting of a teenage girl with long, flowing, fair hair beside a tall prince with dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She sat in a blue velvet chair, and he stood behind her, looking down at her, while she looked up at him. Their expressions were those only of a young couple in love.
“Hey, Ashlyn.”
I jumped. As I’d been staring at the painting, a classmate of mine, Sean, had come up behind me.  “That girl kinda looks like you.”
“What?” I asked, skeptical, tucking my own fair hair behind one ear.
“Yeah, see?” he pointed at the girl. “She has the same exact hair…and you see her eyes? They’re practically the exact same green.”
“Hair color and eye color do not mean I look like her.”
“But her profile matches yours.”
“It does not.” I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. Sean was an art student, and he just liked to show off his art skills.
“It does! Look. Stand here.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me over to stand next to the painting.
“Sean, will you just leave her alone?” Cam said.
“It’s okay, Cam,” I said and joined him at the foot of the stairs.  Sean remained next to the painting appearing somewhat annoyed.
I thought I heard him mumble something about the Prince’s appearance being a lot like Cam’s. Ignoring his comment, I headed up to the top of the stairs where the teachers were assigning rooms. Miraculously, Cam and I each got our own rooms. They were across the hall from one another, each with its own gigantic bed covered with a ton of pillows and a fluffy comforter.
“Wow,” he said. “Your room is almost as big as mine.” He crossed his arms haughtily and leaned in my doorway with an arrogant smile.  He’d changed into his Renaissance costume for dinner; instead of his usual blue or black t-shirt, he now wore a blood red tunic with his black pants. It brought out the reds in his amazing dark brown eyes.  The outfit fit his hairstyle better too; he typically cut in the style of a sixteenth century prince.
I held in a snicker and said, “Well don’t you look nice.”
He placed one hand over his heart. “Your sarcasm is heartfelt.”
Grinning, I stood up to hug him. He hugged me back and asked, “Are you gonna change for dinner?”
“I was about to and then you appeared in my doorway.”
Cam held up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry! Here.” He turned with his back to me. “I won’t look. I promise.”
“Get out,” I said, laughing as I shoved him out the door.
* * *
At dinner, we went down to the great dining hall. More paintings and tapestries hung in here as well.  Above one fireplace hung another painting of the same couple from before. The girl was wearing a green sixteenth century style dress. Like most women’s clothing from the Renaissance, starting from the waist, it laced up the front to just above the breast.  Her skirt flowed in layers down to her feet with matching sleeves. The bell sleeves started at the elbow and extended almost to her knees. Around her neck was a gold necklace with a green heart shaped stone. Her long fair hair was half tied back in an array of elaborate braids. The rest hung loose, curled into perfect little ringlets. The Prince stood beside her again and held her hand.
“Ashlyn,” said a voice behind me. I jumped again. “That girl is wearing the same thing as you.”
“No she isn’t,” Cam said. He was clearly irritated for some reason.
“Whatever you say, Cam,” said Sean, knowing when to back off. He gave my costume another once over and walked away.
“That guy never knows when to quit.” That’s what he said, but I saw him comparing my dress to the painting too. Then, I noticed that Cam’s costume matched the Prince’s.  Just as I was about to point it out to him, though, Ms. Winters shouted above the din of voices. I guessed I would just have to leave it alone.

Later that evening, after we were sent back to our rooms with group assignments and schedules, Cam came to my room.
“We’re supposed to go bed,” I told him.
“Yeah, I know that. But I wanted to congratulate you on being in my group.” He held up a slip of paper between two fingers, grinning as if simply happy about group assignments. But I knew his grin said he was up to something.
My brow creased, eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something.”
The smile faded, and he admitted, “Yeah, you got me.”  He swung the chair out from under the desk and sat on it. “Let’s sneak out tonight.”
“Whaaat?”
“Come on, Ash!” He stood up and put his hands on my shoulders. “You have to come with me. There’s all sorts of stuff in this place that they’ll never show us.”
“Cam!” I whined. “Do you know what kind of trouble we’d get in if we got caught?”
“Then we won’t get caught.” His eyebrows rose, and he looked so hopeful.
I stared at him disbelieving for a moment longer. Then I sighed. “Fine. Just let me change.”
“No time.” He grabbed my hand. “You’ll just have to come in that.” And he dashed from the room.
“No, Cam, wait. I can’t go gallivanting around a castle in this dress!”
But he wasn’t listening to me.  Cam dashed around a corner and through a door I hadn’t noticed before. He led me down a narrow staircase lit by very few sconces. Our shadows flickered around every corner. Finally we reached the bottom and a wide corridor opened up.  It was darker than before and more frightening. The shadows jumped out at me and I screamed. Cam slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Sorry,” I squeaked when he pulled it away. “The shadows…”
He chuckled. My glare was wasted on him in the dark.
He took my hand in his again, and I felt calmer when he did. It was comforting to know he was looking out for me.  I held my skirts in my other hand, trying desperately not to trip over them. As we went further down the hall, it got darker. I became more anxious with each step I took. Just when I was beginning to think we would soon be in total darkness, a door emerged at the end of the tunnel. Cam grinned over his shoulder and pushed it open.  The room beyond was absolutely tiny. One candle lit the whole room, but it was brighter in the smaller space.
”Ash,” Cam whispered, causing me to jump yet again. “Look at this.”
He was holding a gold necklace with a stone the shape of a heart.  I thought it was an emerald, but I wasn’t entirely sure. “What is it?” I asked.
He slapped my arm lightly. “It’s a necklace, duh.”
“Okay…put it back.”
“Why?” Now he was getting whiny. “You should put it on.” He stood behind me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I warned as he closed the clasp beneath my hair. “Or not…”
“I knew it! It totally matches your dress!”
“That’s great and all, Cam, but I should not be wearing this necklace.”
“But you look so cute.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. Blush filled my face up to the roots and a warm flurry of butterflies flooded my stomach.
Suddenly, my vision became blurry. “Cam…”I mumbled. “I…I don’t feel so good…”
“I…don’t either…Ash…” he said. His grip on my waist slackened.
I slumped forward, and my faced smashed into the floor. I thought Cam fell next to me; But I was already unconscious.

The first sound I heard upon waking was splashing water. It confused me since my last memory happened to be sneaking out of my room on a class trip with Cam. Before I figured it out, though, a wet rag splashed onto my forehead, forcing my eyes open. Fully conscious now, I realized I was staring into a familiar pair of dark eyes.
“Cam,” I mumbled. “What happened?”
“You fell down the stairs, Milady,” said Cam’s voice but I felt like this wasn’t Cam.
“Stop joking around, Cam,” I said. “Seriously, what happened?”
“I am sorry,” the supposed Cam apologized. “I think you have mistaken me for someone else. I am not ‘Cam’. My name is Aren. Prince Aren of England.”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Cam,” I grumbled. “Stop fooling around.”
“What is your name, Milady?” said ‘Prince Aren’. He did not sound like he was joking at all, which was odd since Cam never spoke old English unless he was kidding around.
“You know my name. It’s Ashlyn.”
“Lady Ashlyn,” he said earnestly, “I am telling you the truth: I am not Cam. My name is Prince Aren.” He looked me directly in the eye and I saw something there that Cam rarely had: honesty.
“Oh, goodness,” I sighed. “You are telling the truth. Th-then…what year is it?”

Cameron woke with a watermelon-sized headache. He could barely open his eyes for the pain, but he tried anyway. What he saw first was a pair of well-known green eyes. He smiled at them and the face behind the eyes smiled back.
“You are awake!” said the recognizable voice of Ashlyn. “You must have fallen very hard, Lord…um…”
“Cameron,” he answered. Did I just agree to being a Lord? he thought just before it occurred to him that this could not be Ashlyn. “Hey…where am I?”
“You are in the manor of the Baroness where I, her servant, was told to look after you.”
Yep, she was definitely not Ashlyn. Ashlyn would never admit to being a servant. “What year is it?” he inquired.
She giggled. “Why, it is 1508.”

“1508?” I nearly shouted, shooting up off the bed.
“Yes,” he answered. “For almost six months now.” His smile was almost patronizing only I knew he just wanted to lighten the mood.
Oh, crap. Ms. Winters was going to kill me. And Cam if he was here. Oh my goodness! Cam! Had he been sucked into this as well? Shit! What if he had? He’d probably get himself thrown into the dungeon, and then where would we be?
“…shlyn…Ashlyn?” the Prince pulled me out of my reverie. “Is something wrong?”
“Huh? No. Nothing wrong.”
He smiled Cam’s smile, the one that always made me smile back and got me into a lot of trouble because I was unable to resist it. “If nothing is wrong…would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my father’s ball tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” I felt the urge to refuse instantly blocked by that smile. “Okay.”
“Wonderful.” He swept my hands into his. “I shall have a dress made for you immediately. Marie!”
A small Asian woman immediately scurried into the room. She carried what I assumed to be an old-fashioned tape measure. She was kinda creepy, not smiling, not showing any emotion what so ever.
“I’ll leave you to your work, Marie,” Aren said. “Ashlyn, I will meet you in the dining hall for lunch when you are finished here.”
I shot him a helpless look hoping he would understand I did not want to be alone with this creeper. He chuckled, just like Cam, and left. So, I was alone now…with an irate little Asian woman who, without further ado, yanked out her tape and found every possible inch of me to measure for my costume.

Cameron sat bolt upright. “1508? Seriously?” His head spun, dizzy with headache.
“Yes,” the girl replied with a nod.
“Dammit! Um…okay,” Cam took a deep breath. “Then, well, who are you?”
She laughed just like Ashlyn; he had to keep reminding himself that she was not Ashlyn. “I am Isabella.
“All right, Isabella, how did I—“
“ISABELLA!” an older lady shrieked at the top of her lungs as she strode regally into the small room. “Why have you not begun your chores?” Cameron nearly jumped up off the cot. The old lady looked exactly like Ms. Winters with her hair tied back in a bun and the ugliest choice of clothing any woman had ever known.
“I am sorry, Stepmother,” Isabella mumbled. “I was only attending to Lord Cameron as you asked me to.”
Stepmother? Cameron thought, and his confusion slowly cleared into realization.
“Who?” her eyes flicked toward Cameron, and she did a double take. “Oh! Lord Cameron, the young man who was found unconscious on our property?” All thought left his head when she eyed him like that.
Isabella nodded.
“Return to your chores then, Isabella. Your stepsisters and I will handle his recovery from here.”
She nodded again and exited the room. Now Cam was left alone with the old lady. She watched him closely with a creepy smile on her face. Not a word was exchanged for several minutes, until finally, the lady spoke.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked.
Cam’s brow creased momentarily. “The Baroness?” It sounded like a question to his ears, and he prayed that wasn’t what it sounded like to her.
“Yes,” she said agreeably. “I have a lot of influence in this kingdom, you should know. You’d do well to heed what I say.”
“Really,” he muttered under his breath, “’Cause I thought Baron was the lowest title anyone could have…”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. What were you saying?”
“I was merely hinting that it would not do you harm to—“
“MOTHER!” shouted an angry young girl. She sprinted into the room, holding up her skirts and somehow, she still managed to trip over them. She certainly wasn’t the prettiest girl ever, but she wasn’t too misfortunate looking with murky brown eyes and poorly applied make-up. “Why hasn’t Isabella finished with the laundry? I need my costume for the ball tomorrow night!”
“Calm down, Evangeline,” the Ms. Winters clone said carefully. “I just sent her upstairs.”
Evangeline flipped her straggly brown hair over one shoulder and folded her arms in a pout. “Fine…oh,” her expression rapidly changed to excitement, “who is this?” She’d set eyes on Cameron. He nearly flinched away from her look, but instead forced a smile.
“This is Lord Cameron,” her mother replied. “He has offered to take you to tomorrow night’s ball.”
“Wait. What!” Cam jumped up off the bed. “I never—“
“Oh, but you so wanted to thank us for our hospitality a moment ago.”
“No, I didn—“
“But you do now, do you not?”
He stared from one face to the next. The Baroness’s calm, persuasive face and Evangeline’s overly hopeful face made him want to scream. But, finally, he said, “Yeah, I guess I can take you to the ball.” He dreaded the idea of dancing, and now he had to dance with the ugly stepsister, literally.

The night of the ball arrived more quickly than I imagined it would. My costume was made in less than a day—a complete shock to me—and now, I was being readied to head down to the great ballroom of the castle. This was something they had not shown us yet back home, and I was certain to be duly unimpressed when—if—I got back home by its shabby appearance from years of wear and tear.
Aren picked me up right outside my room wearing a stunning red velvet tunic with rubies braided into his long hair. At his belt hung a rapier; I wasn’t sure what he needed it for, but it completed his appearance. He held out his arm to me on which I gracefully placed my own.
“You look beautiful, Lady Ashlyn,” he said as we walked towards the ballroom.
I blushed furiously. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He laughed, and I forgot for a second that he wasn’t Cam. I guess that’s easy to do when the guy looked and sounded just like him.

Evangeline, the Baroness, and her sister waited as patiently as is possible for a family of arrogant nobles in the foyer for Lord Cameron to finish getting ready for the ball.
However, that was not what he was doing. He was trying to convince Isabella to come. He had forced out of her the story of her father’s marriage to the Baroness, and she had reluctantly told him that that was the story of her life—as he expected. Her father, as he saw in paintings, looked exactly like Mr. O’Toole. That’s when all the pieces clicked, and Cameron figured out that he was in the story of the couple that had lived in the castle five hundred years ago. And if that was true, Ashlyn must be at the ball too. So he had to get Isabella there; only then could they get things straightened out and get home.
“I cannot, Cameron,” she whispered frantically. “What if she catches me?”
“She won’t!” he wanted to yell. “It’s a masquerade! No one will no you’re you!”
She bit her lower lip. “How will I get there?”
“Your stingy stepmother has another carriage, doesn’t she?”
She nodded. “But she will recognize it.”
Cameron placed both hands on her shoulders, begging her to listen. “It will be all right. Trust me.” He gave her one of the smiles he always gave Ashlyn when he was trying to get her to be disobedient. It never failed.
Once more, she nodded, and Cameron bolted for the front door. “Sorry I took so long,” he called down the stairs. “I couldn’t possibly accompany such a beautiful girl if I didn’t look equally as good.”

The ballroom was exquisite. The ceiling reflected the elaborate floor, which portrayed swirling spirals of gold flowers on a glistening white marble surface. Mirrors lined the walls also so millions of dancing figures twirled around the room. It made me dizzy.
“Are you going to be all right?” Aren whispered in my ear.
My head jerked in his direction. “What? Oh, yes…I’m fine.”
“Do not worry about the staring,” he said.  Great, now I would be worrying about the staring. “No one expected me to bring you.” Wonderful, just wonderful. Now I find out I get to be the center of attention.
Aren, on the other hand, was used to it so he simply asked me to dance. With reluctance, since I had no idea what the dance steps were and was otherwise incapable of dancing, I agreed. He took my hand in one of his and carefully placed the other on the small of my back. He then carried me out onto the dance floor leading me through the steps with ease. The decorations of green and gold whirled before my eyes, almost making me dizzier.
As the Prince, Aren was eventually made to live up to his obligations and dance with every eligible noblewoman in the kingdom. Therefore, I stayed safely off to the side and watched Aren lead airhead after airhead through the steps. Noblewoman really weren’t that bright, were they?
Just as I was beginning to relax with so many people staring at me, somebody asked, “May I have this dance, Lady Ashlyn?” I jerked around, expecting to find Aren behind me and instead found…
“CAM!” I gasped excitedly. “You are here! Thank goodness.” I threw myself into his arms.
When he pulled back from the embrace with his hands on my shoulders; his eyes locked on mine for a moment, as if he were deciding. My brow creased in question. He said nothing for a long minute and then, finally, he said, “Ash! I have someone for you to meet!”
“Huh?” I said, taken aback.
Cam pulled away from me and behind stood a slight girl with long blond hair and familiar green eyes. Those were my green eyes. I inhaled slowly and my eyes widened as I recognized the girl behind the mask.
“Ash?” Cam said, waving a hand in front of my face. “Ashlyn, this is Isabella.”
I nodded slowly. Isabella pulled off her mask, and I thought I was looking in a mirror. “Oh my gosh,” was all I could say. “Who are you?”
“Isa—“ Cam began but I cut him off.
“I heard you. But what I want to know is…who is she…to me?”
“Oh! I think she’s your past life. If I’m right—which, let’s face it, I always am—you should have met my past life?”
“I think so.” I pointed in the direction of Prince Aren’s dancing figure on the ballroom floor.
Cam froze for a fraction of a second. “Whoa.”
Isabella spoke, then, and I flinched at the sound of my own voice. “Lord Cameron?” I snickered. Lord Cameron? “Might we find a place to speak to His Highness, Prince Aren?” I noticed a light blush in my—her—cheeks. Had she met the Prince before?
“Good idea. Ash,” he turned to me, and I felt my stomach burn with nervous butterflies, though I had no idea why. “Go get ‘Aren’ and bring him out to the balcony. Make sure no one comes with.”
I nodded briefly. Aren was just bowing to his last partner—the end of the dance—so I hurried out to him. “Aren!” I panted as I reached him.
“Lady Ashlyn!” he exclaimed happily. “You are out of breath. Why—“
“Don’t worry about it. Will you come with me onto the balcony…please?”
“Of course. You must just need some air. It is rather hot in here…”
I let him babble as we hastened outside. Once we’d pushed open the double doors, he gasped and then smiled, as if he had come to his own conclusion about seeing a girl identical to his date.
“You have a twin,” he declared, proving my point.
“No. I don’t,” I said bluntly. “Cam, can you explain? It’s your theory.”
Cam nodded and stepped out of the shadows. “If she has a twin, then you must too.” Aren gasped again while Cam smiled the same smile Aren had worn moments before.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Cameron. I come from the year 2008 and so does Ashlyn,” he gestured towards me, “I am not sure how we came to be here, anyway, this, here, is Isabella, and I believe she is the girl you are supposed to be with.”
Isabella blushed furiously up to the roots of her hair. I imagined that’s how I appeared when I blushed. Aren walked over to her quietly, calmly, and took both of her hands in his.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he inquired. I had no clue what he was talking about. “The girl I met in the market that day, was you.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Yes. But I must tell you—“
“You are not a Countess.” His expression, to my surprise, was not angry. He seemed…overjoyed to have actually found the girl he was looking for.
Behind me, Cam had placed a hand on my shoulder. We decided to leave the two alone and return to the ballroom. He led me across the dance floor, out to an alternate balcony, and waited for the few couples to leave before speaking.
“For fear of sounding cheesy, Ash,” he started, “I’m just gonna plunge right in.” He paused. I stared at him, confused again by his words this evening, but I let him continue. “If these are our past lives, then that means something about us, right?”
“Cam, I have no idea what you’re talking about—“ He didn’t give me the opportunity to finish. Instead, his lips met mine in a long, lingering kiss. When the kiss broke, all I could say was, “Oh.”
“Oh? My literary, history geek has nothing more to say?” he smiled, placing one hand gingerly over on my cheek.
I put my own hand over his to hold it there. “It only means I understood what you were saying.” I smiled up at him, and he took the opportunity to kiss me again. I kissed him back in earnest.
We broke apart again, and the scenery around had changed. It seemed we were back in that tiny basement room. The door to the room was open, and Ms. Winters stood outside it, glaring in at us.
“I should have known you two would sneak out in the middle of the night to do something like this,” she sneered.
Mr. O’Toole waited patiently behind her, laughing quietly to himself.
“You two will be on probation for the remainder of this trip,” Ms. Winters said sternly.
“Oh, give them a break, Fran,” Mr. O’Toole demanded. Fran? I repressed a snicker. “It’s just their first offense.”
She scoffed and stalked off in a huff.
“Thanks, Mr. O’Toole,” Cam and I both said.
“Don’t mention it. I always knew you two’d end up together.”
Bright fuchsia blush filled my cheeks. Cam squeezed my hand. After that, we headed back up to our rooms and thus began our trip in England.