MY ABOVE 'the' NORMAL PRINCE

Tori's POV "The end." I smiled as I gently closed the book I had just finished reading. People often call me a hopeless romantic—and honestly, they're not wrong. I've always loved reading. Every time I open a book, it feels like I'm stepping into another world—a world where everything I read comes to life. Most of the time, I even imagine myself as the heroine of the story. I read almost every genre, as long as it has romance and a happy ending. That's what I live for: love stories with fairytale endings. And yes, I dream of having my own someday. But unfortunately... no one has ever even tried to ask me out. I've received love letters, flowers, and even gifts from guys. But that's not what I want. That's not what I'm hoping for. I'm not looking for grand gestures or sweet words just for the sake of impressing me. I'm waiting for something real—something that feels like the kind of love I read about in books. The kind that makes your heart race, that changes you, that makes you feel like you've found your person in a world full of strangers. Maybe I'm asking for too much. Maybe my standards are too high. But I can't help it. That's the kind of love I believe in. "I still can't find the man of my dreams!" I said out loud, letting out a dramatic sigh as I fell back on my bed, arms spread wide like the heroine of a tragic romance. The ceiling didn't respond. Of course it didn't. Neither did fate. "Tori!" I snapped out of my daydream at the sound of my mom's voice, sharp and familiar, calling from downstairs. "Coming!" I shouted back, reluctantly sitting up and glancing at the stack of books beside me. Fairytales could wait. Reality, apparently, could not. Then, in true hopeless romantic fashion, I twirled once and sang with the drama of a Disney princess, "Whaaat is iiit, moooother?" I imagined birds fluttering around me and sunlight spilling through my window as if I were in a magical musical number. Too bad reality didn't include background music. "Stop it, Tori! It's time to eat!" my mom called again, this time in a scolding tone that instantly broke the fantasy. I slumped a little, pouting as I sang back in the saddest, most theatrical voice I could manage, "Okaaay... fiiine..." Humming like a little bird, I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The morning sun streamed through the windows, warming the room just enough to brighten my mood—despite the missing prince in my life. "You better hurry, Tori, or you'll be late," my dad said, not even looking up from the newspaper. "It's the first day of school, and you're still indulging yourself in reading?" he added, shaking his head slightly with a small chuckle. I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my heart. "Excuse me, I was expanding my mind with literature. That's educational." He finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Wasn't that book about a pirate falling in love with a princess from the moon?" "Exactly," I said, pointing a finger at him. "Cross-cultural romance. Intergalactic diplomacy. Very advanced stuff." Dad chuckled, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. "You're going to be late for actual school, Miss Diplomacy." "I'm going!" I said, grabbing a piece of toast from the kitchen counter. "But for the record, I'm mentally and emotionally prepared for the day—thanks to Captain Alaric and Princess Elara." "Right," he said with a smirk. "Tell your teachers you're ready for math because of a moon princess." I gave him a playful salute. "Will do, Commander Dad." And with that, I twirled once more—because of course—and rushed off to face the real world. Still no background music. But hey, a girl can dream. Seeing all the kids walking, chatting, and laughing as they made their way to school reminded me of a story from one of the books I'd read. It was one of those coming-of-age tales—new beginnings, fresh friendships, a little bit of chaos, and of course... a hint of unexpected romance. I smiled to myself. Maybe this school year could be like that too. Maybe this time... something magical might actually happen. I was starting to drift into one of my daydreams—the kind where I imagine my life playing out like a scene from a romantic novel—when a hand suddenly gripped my shoulder. I yelped, spinning around. Of course. It was Raul. Though—note to self—never call him that out loud. Ever. He hates it with a passion. Use his full name and you risk having your hair ripped out by the roots. He prefers to be called Rose, like a flower that almost blooms. "Stop daydreaming, girl!" he snapped, rolling his eyes. "We've got two minutes. Two! Do you want to be the first students to receive an award from Mr. Principal? Because that's exactly what's gonna happen!" I blinked at him. "Is that... sarcasm or motivation?" "Both!" he barked, already storming ahead. With a sigh and a shrug, I followed, clutching my bag and whispering a quiet goodbye to my romantic fantasy. Real life was calling. Loudly. And by name. Unfortunately, Raul's definition of "two minutes" was wildly inaccurate. By the time we skidded to a stop just outside the school gates, the bell had already rung—and Mr. Principal was waiting. Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised. Uh-oh. "Well, well, well," he said, in that slow, terrifying voice only principals seem to master. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence." Raul tried to speak, but Mr. Principal held up a hand like some kind of drama judge ready to drop a penalty flag. "No excuses," he said firmly. "You're late. Both of you." I shrank a little under his glare, wishing I had an invisibility cloak—or at least one of those dramatic fainting spells like the heroines in my books. "As punishment," Mr. Principal went on, "you'll be helping the janitor after school today." Raul groaned. "Not this again..." "Yes, this again," Mr. Principal said with a pointed look. "The playground needs cleaning. You'll be joining the other late arrivals in picking up litter. Maybe it'll teach you something about punctuality—and responsibility." I forced a smile. "Do we get gloves... or a dramatic montage at least?" Mr. Principal blinked. "What?" "Nothing. Totally fine. Love cleaning. Big fan of playgrounds," I said quickly, elbowing Raul before he could make it worse. As we trudged toward the building, Raul muttered, "I swear this is your fault. You were the one fantasizing about moon princes or whatever." "And you were the one who grabbed my shoulder like a horror movie jump scare," I shot back. He snorted. "Fair." And just like that, our first day of school had officially started—with a scolding, a punishment, and zero magical meet-cutes. But hey. Maybe the day still had a plot twist waiting. Rose, I'm tired. Can you just finish this? I need to rest," Rose glared at me now, waving his dirt-smudged hand in the air. "Look at my nails! I just got them done yesterday. This—" he gestured toward the half-filled trash bag beside him "—is violence against beauty." I smirked. "I thought you said you were tough like a rose?" "I am," he sniffed, flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder. "But even roses wilt in filth. Yuck!" Another student nearby laughed quietly. Rose shot them a glare, then turned his attention back to me. "Tell Mr. Principal that this is discrimination against glamorous students." "Sure," I said, chuckling as I picked up a crumpled juice box. "You tell him that—after we clean up this juice apocalypse." He groaned but stood up anyway, dramatically brushing off the back of his jeans like he was prepping for a runway walk. "The things I do for friendship... and attendance points." As the two of us continued our sad little garbage parade across the playground, I couldn't help but smile. Between Rose's flair and my habit of turning everything into a fairytale, we probably looked like a strange, chaotic duo. As we dragged the trash bags across the playground, a sudden hush fell over the group. I looked up just in time to see someone new step through the school entrance. He was tall and lean, with dark hair falling just above his sharp eyes—cold, calculating eyes that barely flicked a glance at the crowd. His posture was perfect, but there was a distance about him, like he belonged to another world entirely. A teacher stepped forward. "This is Caius Montclair. He transferred here from another district. Let's all make him feel welcome." Caius barely nodded, his gaze scanning the ground as if he was already somewhere else. Without a word, he knelt beside us, picking up a discarded wrapper with careful precision. Rose stopped mid-sweep, candy wrapper dangling forgotten in his fingers. His eyes locked on Caius like a moth to a flame. His usual dramatic air fell away, replaced by something softer—tentative. "I—welcome to our trash duty," Rose stammered, suddenly shy. "I'm Rose... Rose Delgado. You can just call me Rose." I wanted to laugh the way she said his name; I want to correct him that his name is Raul. Caius didn't look up but answered in a low voice, "Caius." Rose swallowed, nervously tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "Brookside Academy, right? I heard they have a good art program. Do you... paint?" Caius finally met Rose's eyes, cold but steady. "I do." Rose's cheeks flushed a little. "Cool. We have an art club here, too. Maybe you'd like to join." I watched Rose inch closer, still holding the trash bag, completely captivated. Caius said nothing more, just resumed picking up litter with quiet focus. Rose whispered, almost to himself, "He's... different." I smiled. "That's the point." When we finished, Caius stood abruptly, giving us a quick nod before walking away, his expression unreadable. I laughed. "Let him have your heart. I'll support you." Rose placed a dramatic hand over his chest, clutching it like I'd just given him the highest honor. "Thank you, best friend. Your loyalty means everything to this fragile rose." I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Just don't let him pull your petals off, okay?" Rose winked. "Never. Only the ones I choose to share." ..................................................................... Hi-Yu