By Rebecca Harvey 10V

Prince Charmings do exist

Palms sweating, my forehead lined with a hot dew, my

stomach swirling with butter flies; I can bet my bottom dollar that
my face is a shade between moss green and scarlet red. Just the
thought of my appearance makes my stomach swirl which is not a
good thing when I’m on my way to meet my potential new boss and
give him the article that could make or break my career.
I told myself ‘Elizabeth Farley, you’re an average built woman,
with everything going for you, good job, good apartment, good
figure. From your wavy blonde hair that floats down to just above
your waist glistening in the sunlight like strands of gold to your size
ten waist. Every detail fits into place to make you beautiful. Stop
panicking. Your imagination and creativity makes you who you are
today, and has landed you an interview to become your new to be
bosses secretary and Woman’s Weekly’s top journalist. To be given
this job would boost your life prospects as well as your pay check,
by a couple of zeros.
The skyscraper that is Woman’s Weekly Head Quarters is
situated in the centre of New York and is surrounded by
comparatively, inconsequential buildings, for these buildings sit in
the shadow of the intimidating power and beauty of the skyscraper
that disappears up into the broken clouds. The sun reflects off of the
building in a spectrum of colours. This makes the worst of days
appear beautiful.
‘Stay calm, stay calm, you’re gonna walk into the office cool
and collected.’ This is my wishful thinking at its best. ‘Stay calm,
stay calm,’ I repeated.
I hardly noticed the glass doors to the reception opening
when,
‘Oh Liz, good luck we’re all rooting for you, who’d want that stuck up
cow Jennifer to fill the spot as their secretary anyway, I mean….’ I
let her carry on while my thoughts drifted to Jennifer. Who was I
kidding, how was I supposed to compete with a woman like Jennifer,
a woman that was more experienced in so many ways. We all know
her for apparently being very experienced in the bedroom and it is
not a secret that she had slept with over half of the men at Woman's
Weekly. Huh! How was that fair when I couldn’t find a man who was
genuinely interested in me and who wasn’t after one thing and I
don’t mean my pay check. Jennifer’s other attributes include being
more mature, more beautiful, with long legs that any other girl
would die for and the fact that all a guy has to do is look at her, and
then he’ll follow to her every whim. The only thing I had above
Jennifer was the fact that I didn’t have the personality of a witch and
the fact that my imagination perimeters were a great deal more
than, “clothes, men, more men, makeup and guess what, more
men.” That was when reality pulled me back from my sarcastic
thoughts.

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By Rebecca Harvey 10V

‘Oh Liz, I’m sorry, am I boring you? It’s clear you’re not
listening and honey, are you feeling ok because I’m sure your not
supposed to be turning a light shade of green, but hey, it’s not that
noticeable.’
Great! I thought me turning green was a figment of my wild
imagination; I can’t begin to think how I must look, with only half an
hour until my appointment, snap out of it stay calm and focus on
returning to a normal shade of pink.
‘Sorry Kate, you weren’t boring me,’
I was just too busy making sarcastic comments about Miss Jennifer
Forbes to answer, better not to start a conversation with Kate about
the witch as I’d be here for hours. I do love Kate to bits and we’d
known each other since High School but sure, she could talk for
America.
Kate had short charcoal coloured hair that surrounded her
snowy white face and as she frowned at my lame excuse I could see
she didn’t believe one word of what I’d just said. Her lips started to
twitch into a smile and I could see I was forgiven. She rushed over to
me and swung her arms around me and held me close, she always
knew how to make me feel better.
‘Don’t worry he’ll love you. I’m sure he’ll see straight through
Jennifer’s charade anyway. Good luck, I know you’ll do fine.’
‘Thanks,’ I laughed. By now my self confidence had gone anyway
and my nerves were building and I just wanted to get this over and
done with.
‘Miss Farley,’
‘Call me Elizabeth,’
‘Elizabeth, Mr Garducci will be ready for you in five minutes, I would
ask that you hand me your article and read these terms and
conditions.’
Her frail hand wavered slightly as she passed me a sheet of paper
which told me what I already knew. It explained that the article that
I had written would be judged against the other competitor, Jennifer,
and the best one would be awarded the promotion. The title I had
been given was, Prince Charmings’ do exist. This is pretty ironic,
as I don’t have anyone let alone a prince charming. I was feeling like
I was fourteen again sitting outside the principal’s office, waiting to
be called in and punished, although the only punishment today
would be having to hear Jennifer and her gloating. If that were the
case, I would go home, snuggle on the sofa and eat chocolate until I
was sick, watching all the reruns of Will and Grace to my heart’s
desire. Now that, was appealing.
I felt a smile fall on my face which was instantly wiped off
when Jennifer strolled out of the office with a smug grin on her face.
This radiated around the room and made my stomach clench in
anger and restraint, for not marching straight over there to wipe
that smug grin off of her face and with that a surge of nauseating
worry swept over me. For I realised that I had no hope what so ever.

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By Rebecca Harvey 10V

So I decided to not think about it any more and distracted myself by

staring out of the wall length window.
The sun light beamed off of the windows and illuminated the
whole of New York in a summery glow. I stared for what seemed like
a fragment of a second when my humming of the song “New York,
New York,” was cut off with the cough of the secretary, whom
Jennifer or I would replace.
‘Mr Garducci is ready for you now, proceed if you may.’
I made a mental note that if I was to miraculously get the
promotion, I would need to expand my vocabulary and get elocution
lessons. That made me smile.
‘Ok thanks, I mean thank you. Sorry, I’ll just go through.’
My thoughts were screaming ‘SHUT UP!’ Did I just say all that, oh no
I just can’t stop. Oh shut up concentrate. My thoughts weren’t
helping when I couldn’t even manage to speak like a human being
let alone walk. Okay left foot, right foot, I can do this, ready? Ready,
smile.
‘Hello Elizabeth,’
Oh my God. Talk about irony because I swear my prince charming
was standing right in front of me. His eyes smouldered as I peered
into them. They were pools of shimmering blue, I couldn’t help but
gaze. They showed passion but I couldn’t help but see flashes of
mystery that I wanted to unravel. His hair the colour of midnight
swept round his defined cheekbones in such a way that sent ripples
of warmth up my spine. He stood up and outstretched his hand as
my eyes examined the rest of his body. His suit clung to his body
perfectly outlining his muscular, chiselled build. The urge I had to rip
his shirt off to reveal what must be an eight Pac, was harder than I
thought to suppress. Finally, his voice could melt butter, it was
alluring yet incredibly obscure and mystifying. I reached over to
return the hand shake and the contact sent shivers rippling up and
down my body. I smiled sweetly mesmerized by his beauty, and
hoped I didn’t look as completely and utterly helpless as I felt.
Although I’m sure my face betrayed me and flushed a shade of
scarlet. He winked, gave me a quick smile and sat down. At that
moment in time he felt familiar and a sensation of déjà vu flowed
through me. I couldn’t place it but was sure I would find out.
He started to read through my article, his eyes skimming over
the page, a smile twitching at the sides of his lips. I was in my own
little world when a flashback hit me.
It was based at Yellow Stone Park, I started to remember, it
was where my inspiration for my article was found. It may have
been the most embarrassing day of my life to be honest; for I’m
sure I lost all dignity I had left that day.
I was strolling along the promenade by the pond in a daze. I
seem to remember I was prying ideas from my surroundings, but to
be fair I wasn’t paying much attention at all when I tripped over a
twig, yes a twig for christ’s sake, and ploughed straight into one of
the roller skaters that were showing off their skills, and because that

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By Rebecca Harvey 10V

wasn’t enough he flew backwards, arms flying and landed straight

on his backside. Whilst I took off into yellow stone’s very own pond.
As I soared towards them, I heard the ducks shriek with frantic
flapping of wings and movement of water. Then it hit me, the taste
of salt mixed with mud sinking up my nose and down my throat. I
was upside down, legs up in the air and floundering around looking
like a total moron. As I tried to get up a pair of strong hands helped
me. I looked up and met a gorgeous man’s striking eyes, and
instantly started apologising, only to find out he wasn’t the roller
skater but an innocent bystander, who had just witnessed the whole
scenario, and was just trying to help.
How embarrassing. He helped me out the pond and took me
to his car away from the curious gaze of the witnesses, where he
gave me a jumper to wear over my soaked clothes. Then the
familiar eyes focused my déjà vu. The prince charming that seemed
so familiar, the prince charming that pulled me out of the pond and
my new boss they both seemed so familiar. Was it, no, could it be,
no, or maybe it was? This time the sensation that hit me pushed the
déjà vu straight out my mind, nerves and embarrassment hit me all
at once, I could feel my face getting hotter and hotter and my hands
start to shake. Had I just written about my new boss being my
prince charming, rescuing me from the wrath of the yellow stone
park, yes I did.
His laugh broke my whizzing brain’s train of thought and he
said,
‘Elizabeth it seems we have a lot to talk about.’ My heart, I swear
missed a beat and then just sped up.
‘Yes I agree,’ I stuttered. Maybe he doesn’t recognise you, maybe he
liked the story not realising that it was about him even though I can
tell my face will have given everything away.
‘Well, your article was very, lets say interesting,’
Oh, he knows I can tell, what to do, what to do, oh Jennifer is not
going to stop gloating. What do I d… – His eyes met mine and I
couldn’t help but relax, the pools of shimmering blue were so
therapeutic. He gave a sigh and closed his eyes and with that I
swear I melted into butter. My body felt so light and fluid, how could
he send sensations through me like this? I started to pray he would
pick my article as working with him would be like heaven all at once.
His eyes opened and he peered up through his long, thick eyelashes
looking so irresistible, and at that moment he broke he news that
changed the scene instantly.

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