Page 54 of Prince Charmless
Ignoring his foreboding tone, I ask, “All right, what else?”
“Worst-case scenario, my father might speak to you again. Avoid all topics that involve his second-born, the navy, or the state of this country’s football team. Oh, and stay away from the PM’s son. His name’s Kelvin, if you can remember.”
“Like the standard unit of measurement for thermodynamic temperature? That’s easy. Why should I stay away from him?”
“He’s an ass.”
I shrug. “You’re kind of an ass.”
“Not like him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s handsy,” Alex interrupts from the passenger seat, honking imaginary boobs in front of him.
“Yes, thank you for the demonstration,” Taylor says, annoyed. “At least, I’ve heard through the grapevine,” he adds to comfort me.
It’s nice to know I’m being looked out for.
“How much small talk do you think I’ll have to do at this thing?” I ask. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it with this crowd.”
“I’m not sure, but people like talking about themselves, so if you ask questions about their own lives, you don’t have to do much of the speaking.”
Huh. That’s actually helpful advice.
“Is your living grandmother going to be here?” I hope not. I’ve met enough royals for one lifetime. I can’t even bring myself to say the word queen.
“No,” he says. “She’s getting too old for stuff like this.”
Understandable. The fact that she’s been alive for this long is medically impressive. I bet Taylor’s family is rich enough to afford the elixir of life along with an army of physical therapists.
“Is she scary like your dad is?”
Taylor scoffs. “She’s a ninety-three-year-old arthritic woman who’s half your height.”
I squint. That doesn’t answer my question.
“She’s terrifying,” he concedes.
“Where are we going by the way? I don’t think either of you boys remembered to tell me.”
“Toussaint Botanical Gardens,” they say at the same time while pulling out their respective phones.
They remind me of each other.
“Oh, I had my first kiss at the botanical gardens.”
Taylor ignores me, but I feel the need to continue.
“Field trip, grade seven. His name was Noah Grant.”
“How was it?” he asks dully.
“The field trip or the kiss?”
He shrugs. “Both, I guess.”
“Field trip informative. Kiss awful.”
