Coal Part 2: 1st Draft

Part 2 is less extreme than Part 1. But don't let that fool you. The action is just starting!

Coal put her invitaion and camera into her shorts and quickly walked back to the kitchen. Debra was waiting for her.

"Why were you outside?" asked the woman, who had just showered, her body swathed in a bath robe.

"There's no more silver polish. I looked for some in the garage, but there wasn't any." Coal held her breath. She had learned to lie at the drop of a hat to avoid a beating, but she wasn't so sure Debra would fall for it, now that she was so close to getting what she wanted.

"Forget about all that. There's shopping to do." Debra smiled smugly. "You'll be carrying my bags of course."

Debra took great glee in lowering Coal's position by making her do the tasks of a servant. Ordinarily, Coal would have mumbled under her breath, and shuffled off to the garage. But she had the pictures. Coal smiled back. "Sure, whatever."

Debra froze momentarily, a slight frown spread over her face. Then she turned to the intercom. "Ashford! Ashton!" she yelled. "Shopping! Now!" Debra turned back to Coal, her eyes flicking over her quizically. "Start up the car."

Coal felt a sliver of satisfaction as she went to the garage. She had felt Debra's eyes on her back, angry and jealous that her daughters didn't have what Coal did. Maybe I can do more than distract the prince. If Debra still hates me even though I'm wearing rags, and no makeup, who knows who will approach me at the ball? Her heart lept in her chest.

Suddenly curious, Coal took the invitation out her pocket. It was made of heavy, gold lined creme paper, stamped with the Royal Seal. It was addressed to "Duchess Erva Inis Sterving". Coal shrugged. She probably wouldn't have to show it as long as her name was on the list. She opened the invitation, and gasped! There was a black-and-white picture of Prince Dominick, who obviously didn't want his picture taken, scowling. He also didn't look like he wanted to be prince, with his twelve o' clock shadow, and his long messy looking hair. Despite his disheveled appearance, Coal found him attractive. There was something about his dark, black eyes. They seemed so intelligent. He didn't seem to be one of the guys who would fall for the Debra or the twins.

"They aren't going to get their hooks into him." she breathed aloud. She tore herself away from the prince's picture to read the inside of the invitation. "Their Royal Majesties, The King and Queen of Wachovia, cordially invite you to the 21st celebration of His Majesty, Dominick Colin Dansforth Russert, Prince of Satffordshire. The theme: Costume Ball. The place: The Royal Banquet Hall. The time: 9 pm." Coal smiled. "This is perfect." Hearing the garage door opening, she quickly put the invitation back in her pocket.

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"Ciara! It's been so long since I've seen you!"
Exclaimed Mrs. Didora at the front counter of The Chicken Koop restaurant in the mall's food court. Mrs. Didora and her family used to be the marquis's servants, until Debra got into the picture. Then she and her family started their own resaturant chain. Coal thought of Mrs. Didora as an adoptive grandmother, and always stopped by the food court to see her whenever she was in the mall. She was the closest thing she had to family, and it was nice to be called by her real name for once.

"It's great to see you too, Mrs. Didora. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mrs. Didora took off her hat, and turned to the younger middle aged woman beside her, who was ringing up a customer. "Take over for me Priscilla."

"Sure thing mom. Hey, Ciara!" said the young woman, as she moved over to the chicken fryer.

"Hey, Mrs.Hampton. Tell Marcus and Anthony I said hi."

"I will!"

Mrs. Didora stepped out from behind the counter and led Ciara over to an empty table. "So how have things been going for you, Ciara?"

Ciara raised her stepmother's shopping bags into view. "Same old, same old."

"I'm sorry dear." Mrs. Didora sympathized, patting her hand.

"It's all right. In a few days, I won't have to worry about them. I've finally Debra in the act. On camera."

"Wow! She's gotten sloppy."

"I know. This time her goal was an invitation to Prince Dominick's birthday party."

"Oh no! Did she get what she wanted?"

"Of course. But I'm going to stop her."

"I don't think showing your father those pictures is going to do any good. Even if he divorces her tonight, she'll still go. And use her daughters as bait."

"I'm not showing my dad these pctures just yet. I think I'll do that on my birthday as a gift to myself."

The older woman ran her fingers through her shoulder length salt and pepper hair. "You lost me." she said laughingly.

Ciara produced her invitation. "I'm crashing the party."

"How'd you get that? I heard less than a hundred invitations were given out. That's not even half of the nobility!"

"Soomeone owed me a favor. Actually, I have a favor to ask of you myself.

Mrs. Didora looked skyward, and sighed. "Let me guess. You need a costume that will keep all the attention in the room away from the Vicks." Mrs. Didora used to be a famous dressmaker until she lost it all in a stock market crash, forcing her and her family to temporarily become servants in the marquis's household.

"I know nobles are always asking you to make dresses for them, even though you've sworn them off."

"And I've always turned them down." Mrs. Didora had sworn never to make another dress again, after she made the wedding dress for Ciara's mother. After Ciara's mother died in childbirth, Mrs. Didora had thought her talent was a curse. She hadn't made one since.

"Please! I'll never ask you to make me another one again. I have to stop them. No one else will."

Mrs. Didora sighed. "All right. But it can't be free. I'll have to buy material. And of course, you'll have to have a good mask."

Ciara groaned. "How much do you need?"

"At least two hundred goola."

Ciara winced. "There goes my rent money. But I don't need it anyway if I can I can get rid of The Vicks."

Mrs. Didora held Ciara's hand and squeezed it. "I wish you mother's family had sent for you. You still haven't heard anything from them? No letter, phone call, or email?"

Ciara shook her head. "Swaziland is a faraway place. For all I know, my relatives could all be wiped out from war or famine." She smiled weakly.

"Oh, Ciara! Don't say that!"

"it's all right, Mrs. Didora. I lost hope of ever meeting them a long time ago. You shouldn't worry about it."

"You should never give up hope, Ciara. I've always had hope for you, always believed you would have a good life. I know your mother's family will come for you. You have to believe it too."

Ciara smiled. Mrs. Didora always had a positive outlook, no matter what. "Fine. I'll hope for your sake then. I always feel better after talking to you." Ciara handed her the money. "I have to go or else the Vicks'll say I stole their stuff." Ciara got up. "How's business?"

"Pretty good. Want to know a secret?"

"Sure."

"It's already a favorite of a certain prince." she winked. "I'll give you a hot number seven when I drop off the dress in a few days. Can't go to a birthday party without a present."

"Really? Thank you, Mrs. Didora!" Ciara took off running towards the dress shop where she had left the Vicks, and bumped into someone. She dropped her bags, and all the clothes the Vciks had bought spilled out. "Oh!" she exclaimed, hurriedly stooping to pick them all up. "They're going to kill me!"

"I'm sorry." A young man came into view beside her, helping her scoop up the clothing. He was dressed like some kind of rock star, wearing all black, with sunglasses.

"No it's my fault. I was in too much of a hurry. You didn't see me." She paused to stare at the young man. There was something about his hair. And his unshaven face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her. His voice trembled sligtly, as if he was afraid of the answer.

"Your Majesty?" she whispered. She felt a mixture of fear and excitement all at once. She froze, not quite breathing.

He lowered his glasses so she could see his dark black eyes. "Ssssh. I'm here to get a new costume. I don't want to be mobbed on my way out." He picked up his bag, and he put his glasses back on. Now it was his time to pause and stare. "I wish someone like you was at my party." He whispered, then hurried off.

There's more to come! "Coal Part 3 :1st Draft"