And now we both blushed, because things like changing one’s garments should not be discussed among a Queen and one of her subjects.

Once more for Britain,� I said to the empty room. I might not be the Queen everyone wanted me to be, but I was intelligent and fully capable of breaking the code.

Myron, all six feet of super cuteness, comes forward. He smiles and I almost die, because he has one adorable dimple. Instead of getting embarrassed about his first name, he offers his hand and says, “Call me McDaniel.

Denny and McDaniel go into the percussion room and grab a bizarre metal contraption. Denny lifts it over his head and I give him a strange look, to which he responds like I’m a five year old, “Carr-i-er.

Denny gave me a strange look when I showed up in the band room, but I have always believed playing drums is no excuse not to look cute. Besides, if McDaniel shows up, I want to look my best. Oh, crap, I should be paying attention. “Did you hear anything I said?”I answer honestly, “No.”Denny runs a hand through his spiked hair and asks, “Do you really want to learn how to march?”“I have to learn to march if I want to be a part of the section, right?”“Right.”“Then, it doesn’t really matter if I want to do anything. It’s something I have to do.”Denny looks confused and partially like he’s completely regretting the decision to add me to his section, but proceeds to teach me drill for the better part of two hours. While we run through the steps, I look longingly over at my quints, which I have secretly decided to name Quincy.

My station has barely recovered from the massacre, and we have not held my formal coronation, not to mention the fact I am only eighteen years of age and have no parent present. How on earth do people expect me to find a husband in all of this nonsense?