Dear Diary,

My entire sixteen years, I have never been good enough. If my mother had read that, she would say that mature girls didn’t complain, especially not princesses. Fortunately, my mother and I aren’t on very good terms, and the chances that she would even bother to read anything I write are slim. You see, dear diary, being the busy, important person that my mother is, she usually doesn’t see me too often. My parents made a pact, when they married, to be joint rulers of the kingdom, so they’re both constantly busy and don’t often visit me: their invalid middle daughter.

Before I go on, I suppose I should tell you a little bit more about me first. My name is Jaimie Rosalind Gioni, second to last daughter of King Gerard and Queen Lise. I was... and am, a sickly child. My lungs have a weak condition and they always seem to be half full of liquid, so it’s hard for me to breathe sometimes. My hair is thin, it falls out if it gets long so it’s cut short. Not as short as a boy, but only down to the bottom of my ears. It’s all fine and fluffy and light brown, like duck down on ducklings.

Lastly, I’m paralyzed from the waist down and cannot feel or move my legs. It happened when I was born, something was wrong with the way I came outof dear old mom and my spine got messed up. Ever since, I’ve been unable to walk. Mother sent out for doctor after doctor, but none of them could fix me with their nasty herbs, and mystery potions. After a while of that, my parents gave up on me and I basically became the useless daughter. No reasonable man will marry me, says my mother, I am going to grow old and die in this wheelchair.

The rest of my family doesn’t really think much better of me. Tomorrow is the Spring Celebration annual ball.  Not that I’ll really be able to do much at it besides sit off to the side in my depressing little wheelchair and cough all night, but at least I’ll be able to watch. I know, I know, I’m drowning myself in self-pity, right? Every year, all the sixteenyear-old girls are presented for the first time in front of the king and queen and essentially “come out”.

It’s basically where each girl’s parents show off their talented, pretty daughters to everyone and boast about them in hopes of securing their daughters husbands. Preferably to them, rich husbands. I think its pretty stupid, but it’s custom and has been for many years. Nobody thinks I’m going to do it because my parents haven’t anything about me to show off. But, I’m going to do it anyway. It can’t hurt to try. Besides, its tradition and every girl does it. What’s the worst that can happen?

Sincerely,

Jaimie.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Diary,

It’s official. The Spring Celebration ball was a disaster, and it didn’t even happen. And it’s all my fault. First off, the day began rainy, which made everyone grumpy because all the outdoor decorations they had put up had to be laboriously taken down again to keep them from getting soggy. After the rain cleared, the decorations and tables and flowers had to be put back up, and the whole process took three hours. The maid had dressed me in my favorite pale blue and green gown and, at my insistence, woven the customary white flowers into my hair that were worn by the “coming out” girls.

I wheeled myself out to the gardens where the ball is held every year and managed to disrupt the path of three servants carrying heaping platters of roasted lamb stuffed with bread and lemon and assortments of iced pomegranates, flavored ice sherbet, and coconut crusted pies. I was acutely embarrassed and the servants were very forgiving after they cleaned the pineapple cream icing off me and saw who I was, but the incident did provoke a snicker from some of the court ladies nearby. “Sitting duck does it again…” a fat lady with butter-colored hair that I knew to be Countess Trilla. It hurt to hear my old nickname again. I held my composure though and my maid pushed me off to my rooms to clean me up again.

An hour before the guests were due to arrive, Sabrina, my favorite lady servant, came and re-wove the flowers into my hair and helped me dress again (my earlier gown was splattered with grape tarts and coconut entrails) this time in a beautiful golden brocade. If I had known then what was going to happen, I would have never left my chamber to go to the ball. Never even poked my head out the door. But I did. Sabrina took me back to the gardens, and this time, I was determined not to let Countess Trilla get to me.

Customarily, there are special chairs set out for those girls who are being presented, so I had Sabrina help me into one. She left after that to help the others prepare and left me there beside my wheelchair. I had gone early to practice getting into my wheelchair by myself because Sabrina wouldn’t be allowed during the ceremony. I grabbed the arms of the chair to lift myself upward and in one movement, tried to slug myself into the wheelchair, but I didn’t quite make it. I only succeeded in pushing it away from me. Propelled by my failed attempt at getting into it, the wheelchair shot backwards and clipped the pole holding up one side of the banner.

It teetered and careened over, bringing down not only the banner, but all the hanging decorations that had been strung and attached to it. The pole smashed right into the main food table, sending dishes and platters of meat, fruit, bread,and candies flying. The flying food effectively took out the gorgeous flower arrangements that were positively everywhere. To top it off, my still rolling wheelchair smashed into the glass fountain, shattering it completely, making it rain over the entire mess. And there in middle of it, lying on the ground, was me. Coughing.

The entire thing was blamed on me and I burned underneath Mother and Father’s rebukes and disappointed faces. The ball was cancelled and rescheduled for tomorrow, and I was just now informed that I am not required to attend if I wish not to. And I certainly don’t. Nothing but disaster follows me, and I don’t think I can take my parent’s disappointment in me again.

Sincerely,

Jaimie.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Diary,

Earlier this morning, Sabrina came in with my cleaned gown that I ruined yesterday with my destructive clumsiness and laid it out. Then after she helped me bathe, she began weaving the white flowers into my hair again. I asked her what she was doing. What was she thinking? There was no way I was going to the ceremony, not after yesterday.

“You’re going to that ceremony,” she had said determinedly. I groaned inwardly.

“After yesterday?  I’m a failure, Sabrina!  All my life I’ve failed my parents, and now… now I’ve ruined everything.  There’s no way I can do it again.”

“The only people who failed here, are your parents. They failed you. They’ve left you the task of impressing them to win their love and support. I may serve them, but I do not approvetheir parenting. You won’t fail them. You have to do this. Show them who’s who! Prove to hem, Jaimie, prove to them you are something to be proud of.  Go to the ceremony. Hiding up here in your room is doing nothing but harm. Now sit still and let me weave these flowers in.”

Sabrina’s right. I shouldn’t have to live like this, cooped up and always in fear of what my parents and of what others think of me. Let them call me by my wretched nickname, ‘Sitting Duck’, and see if I care. It’s time I gave them a piece of my mind.

Sincerely,

Jaimie.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Diary,

Needless to say, last night was interesting if not wonderful. Sabrina dressed me in the blue and green gown I had originally planned to wear and wheeled me to the gardens. The guests were already arriving when I got there.  The gardens looked beautiful again, lit by lanterns and decorated with flowers and I couldn’t help but feel guilty at the thought of all the work it must have taken to restore it all. People stared at me when I dismissed Sabrina and wheeled myself to my designated chair, by myself.

I had to make them see I wasn’t helpless, and as much as I love Sabrina, being shadowed by her to help me isn’t exactly… well… helping me. A nearby attendant helped me into the chair and then the herald announced my father and mother’sentrance and they processed in, to sit at the thrones. Everyone fell silent as father had stood and given his customary buttered-up welcoming speech to the visiting nobles and to all the guests attending.

After he sat, the others girls and I were given our cue. I had sweated even though it was a cool evening and my nerves were everywhere when I reached for my wheelchair to lift myself into it. The gardens were literally as silent as the tomb as every human being there stared at me as I pushed myself up. To this point, I was praying so very hard that nothing would go wrong, and my arms almost gave out. Almost.

I sat, hard, in the wheelchair and heard everyone letting out their breath as I wheeled myself along at the end of the line of girls ceremonially walking up to my parents. I had to let out my own breath, as I didn’t realize I had been holding it as well. Finally, when it was my turn, I stared at them, unsure of what to say. No. This couldn’t happen, I couldn’t forget what I was going to say, not now!  I looked at Sabrina and she gave me an encouraging nod. Then, I spoke out.

“Mom… Dad…” I was hesitant at first but my voice got stronger, “I… know I’ve sorta been an embarrassment to you. I can’t walk, I cough too much, I can’t bear any children, many things.  And I’m a disaster waiting to happen on wheels. But I’ve spent too long cooped up in my room, hiding from being teased, and hiding from you because I hated the disappointment you had in me and I hated myself for failing you. I can’t do that anymore. I may not be able to give you grandchildren, and I may not make you proud, but I won’t let you control me anymore. I just want you to know, I’ll do what I want now and I’ll not hide.” 

Then I turned around and wheeled back to my chair. My parents were dumbfounded and the crowd was shocked. The horrible silence broke when someone started clapping. Soon, everyone was clapping! I spent the rest of the night being talked to and befriended by more people than I had ever in my life.

Last night, my parents came up to my room and we had a long talk. They apologized, for everything, and we have a good deal of healing to do, but I’m happy now. It’ll be worth it. Wow. Okay, now I’m surprised at myself.  When was the last time I was really happy? Too long ago. Hiding and being scared of people’s opinions wasn’t worth it, and it destroyed my life. Why didn’t I see it before? Princess Sitting Duck is no longer, ladies and gentleman, but I, am back.

Sincerely,

Jaimie.