Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo was running. She was running away, faster than she'd ever ran in her whole entire life. She didn't know where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get away. Behind her, her Grandmere, Clarisse Renaldo, the dowager princess of the small European country Genovia, frowned in disapproval, yelling at her to come back, with her father, Phillippe, the crown prince of Genovia, to her left.

          Suddenly and unexpectedly, Amelia tripped over a rock on the hard ground and fell on her face. She was falling, falling into an endless dark spiral of nothingness. As she fell, she could feel hands grabbing at her - the cold, soft hands of Grandmere, her father's rough and warm palms. She shouted, she could hear herself shouting. And then she hit rock bottom.

          Beep! Beep! Beep!

          Princess Amelia woke up to the sound of her alarm clock buzzing incessantly. Groaning, she leaned over and fumbled blindly in the early morning sunlight, her eyes unadjusted and squinting in the light. Finally, her manicured fingers found the snooze button and she haphazardly smacked it, smiling as the beeping stopped. She buried her face back into her pillow, pulling her covers tighter around her body.

          Moments later, just as Amelia was beginning to drift back into sleep, she heard the door to her bedroom open slowly, creaking. The palace in Genovia was old, and she heard every step as the intruder walked towards her bed. "Go away," Amelia muttered, wanting only to sleep for another hour, knowing fully well that she had a full itinerary planned out for the day. Being the princess of a country often entailed long days of tiresome and tedious work at things Amelia really didn't care a lot about.

          When Amelia was six years old, her Grandmere, whom Amelia was terrified of, had told Amelia the news - her father was actually the prince of the country they lived in, Genovia. Amelia lived in a palace with her Grandmere and her father, Phillippe, who raised her. She had never met her mother, and all Grandmere and Phillippe told her was that her mother had left her here when she was a baby and moved back to her native homeland of New York in the United States.

          "Amelia, it's seven o'clock. I even gave you fifteen minutes extra to sleep in. What more can you ask from me? Wake up." Grandmere's voice was strict and cold, as usual and Amelia knew that she meant every word she said.

          In response, Amelia sighed and sat up in bed, pulling off her covers and stepping onto the cold marble floor. She ran her hands through her long, straight dishwater blonde hair, her mouth pursed in distaste. She wiped her fingers across her forehead.

          Grandmere frowned. "Collect yourself. You have a serious itinerary to follow today, seeing as you'll be leaving for America tomorrow morning. Speaking of which, I hope you've packed all your things that you'll need. I'll ship the rest once you get there." She pursed her lips in distaste. Amelia cringed. "And for goodness sakes, Amelia, put on some eyeliner and undereye concealer. You look dreadful this morning."

          Grandmere yanked open the curtains with a flick of her tiny wrists. She was a slight woman, petite, with white hair and tattooed eyeliner. When Amelia was younger and they spent the summers at Miragnac, Amelia had once went to see Grandmere late at night and was surprised to see that she was still wearing eyeliner. The truth came out – Grandmere's eyeliner was tattooed on. Amelia, a little girl, had thought that it was disgusting and asked Grandmere in all sincerity whether it had hurt or not. Grandmere merely told her that that was not a question that a young princess should ask.

          Amelia yawned, followed by a bitter smile covering her face. At least for the next year she'd be away from Grandmere. She was moving away from Genovia and the palace where she'd lived her whole entire life to New York to spend a year living with her mother, Helen Thermopolis, and stepfather, the algebra teacher at the local high school, Frank Gianini, as well as their newborn son, Rocky, in a loft style apartment and attending a relatively normal high school, Albert Einstein High School. And she couldn't wait to get there.

          Sweet freedom, at last.

          Amelia pulled out her diary and began to write, a favorite companion of hers.

          SATURDAY, JANUARY 15, 7:15 AM

          I'm leaving tomorrow.

          I'M LEAVING TOMORROW!!!

          I can't even believe it.

         

          I mean, one more day of greeting the press and all that silly princess stuff and going to a stupid party in a really, really nice dress without a date, and then I'm free. FREE! A whole year without Grandmere. I thought this day would never come. On the other hand, I wonder what it will be like, going to a real high school. I mean, the kids are probably going to think I'm some kind of freak. Lars, my bodyguard, will be coming with me to school every day. And I'll be going to school in my limo. Normal kids don't have bodyguards. And I guess they don't go to school in limos. But hey, a bodyguard accompanying me everytwhere is totally a small price to pay for my freedom. I've never gone to a real school. I'd imagine it's going to be really, really great.

          I made Dad promise to keep donating to Greenpeace daily while I'm gone.

          I've been waiting for this ever since I turned sixteen, and now it's finally happening. Finally.

          Anyways, I have to go. Grandmere's got my full day planned out. Nope, I can't just have a free day of peace and resting, maybe some packing, you know, before I LEAVE THIS COUNTRY FOR A WHOLE YEAR! But that's Grandmere, I guess. I won't lie, I'm actually kind of nervous about tomorrow. I mean, who knows what's going to happen? I guess that's what makes it so exciting.

          Sighing, but this time with delight, Amelia closed the journal, sliding it into the purse that she'd be carrying for the day. Her journal always went everywhere with her. With a spring in her step, Amelia walked towards her bathroom, picking up the clothes that Grandmere had laid out for her on the bed. A pink jacket and matching pink skirt, with pink high heels dyed to match the jacket and the skirt. Amelia nearly gagged. Imagine this, when she moved to America, she'd be able to even go out shopping and buy her own clothing, without Grandmere's approval needed. The thought brought a smile to her face. She'd finally be able to wear jeans and t-shirts!

          Ever since Amelia could remember, Grandmere had controlled every aspect of her life. Grandmere decided what Amelia wore, Grandmere told Amelia everything to say. Grandmere wrote all of Amelia's speeches. Grandmere decided how Amelia would wear her hair every day. Grandmere decided on all of the boys that Amelia would date. Grandmere even told Amelia what to eat.

          And now that Amelia was sixteen, she was sick of it. She needed her freedom. She needed to be on her own. Amelia wasn't the average princess. Other princesses were satisfied with the lives that they had – knowing that other people were jealous of them because they lived in castles and wore the prettiest dresses to balls, made by their own fashion designers. She knew that there were other, different things to experience in the world. She wanted to buy her own clothes and go to concerts, phone her friends just to talk and gossip. She wanted to be a normal girl. Amelia had always been envious of those normal girls who weren't princesses, girls who got to make all their own decisions in their lives. It was time for Amelia to assert her independence.

          SATURDAY, JANUARY 15, 8:45 PM

          I can't wait to get out of here!

         

          I'm finally going to be free.

          Today was like hell. Grandmere is really beginning to get on my every single nerve. Today I had to attend a press conference and answer tons of questions about how I'm moving away and stupid things like that. I'm sick of everyone asking me and me having to give them a subdued answer like a good princess would. I'm so excited I can hardly breathe, that's the truth.

          And then we had a farewell party. Which really wasn't that bad. It was actually kind of fun. Rene was there. And I won't really miss him. But can you imagine? Next year, I'm going to be attending high school dances! Not balls and fancy parties with governments and royal families. High school dances with normal high school kids.

          I wonder what my mother's going to be like. I mean, I've never met her. I hope she likes me. And I have a stepfather! And a stepbrother. His name is Rocky. Which I think is pretty awesome. Are they going to ask me to babysit him? I can't wait to meet my brother. And I can't wait to meet my mother. I wonder what the apartment they live in is like. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

         

          I'm kind of nervous about making friends there, though. What if the other kids think I'm a freak because I'm so freakishly tall and underdeveloped? I look like a twelve year old. Not a sixteen year old sophomore. Not to mention that I've got the weirdest hair. It's the ugliest colour ever and Grandmere won't let me dye it. Princesses don't dye their hair. And I've got a bodyguard. They're going to think I'm the weirdest girl they've ever seen.

          I'm making myself really, really anxious.

          Anyways, it's 8:45 at night and I've got to be up tomorrow morning at 5:30 AM to take the Royal Genovian jet to New York. Imagine my utter distaste this morning when I realized that Grandmere and Lars are both coming tomorrow. Well, Lars is alright. And I knew that he'd be coming. But Grandmere?! She told me this afternoon at tea. She's going to help me get adjusted. Hopefully, she'll be gone in a week. Or less.

          I can't wait to finally start living my own life.

          Biting at her manicured fingernails, Amelia shut her diary and shoved it into a bag that laid on the floor next to her bed, making sure to remember that she'd be taking that bag with her on the plane tomorrow morning when she left the palace. Turning off the lights, she pulled the silk sheets over her tired body and shut her eyes. These manicured fingernails would be the first thing to go.

          Amelia hated manicures.