Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I look down to find a little girl of about seven or eight, and I blush over where my thoughts just were. I have no business thinking about sex while in the midst of representing our monarchy.
But damn … Jackson is such a temptation that I give myself a little grace.
About forty-five minutes ago, I sat through a welcome presentation some children put on, then gave a tiny speech and wheeled into the center’s gymnasium several rolling carts of sports equipment. There were balls, bats, mitts, protective pads, helmets, and even a pair of new athletic shoes for every kid. When I chose Jonesboro as my “typical American town,” I wanted to come bearing presents for the children. My secretary found this rec center in a lower-income area that doesn’t have the money to fund all their programs. The one most sorely in need was athletics, and I had all of these gifts purchased here and waiting in storage, ready for me to hand out. I also donated two hundred thousand dollars of my own money for badly needed building repairs.
I bend at the waist to get closer to the little girl. “Well, hello.”
She grins up at me, her front tooth missing, and I find it absolutely precious. “Thank you very much for the new equipment you gave us, especially the shoes. Mine had a hole in the bottom.”
My heart squeezes over how grateful a kid can be just for a pair of shoes. “You’re very welcome. What sport do you play?”
She smiles bigger. “Soccer, baseball, basketball, and cheerleading.”
My eyes widen. “That’s a lot of sports. Do you have a favorite?”
She shakes her head. “I like them all. But I’m best at soccer. I actually think I could be better at baseball if I tried a little harder. At least that’s what my daddy says, but he also says I should stick with what I love the most, even if I’m not the best at it.”
I smile at her, looking around to see if I can locate her father, but I don’t see anyone nearby that seems focused on our conversation. “Your daddy sounds like a pretty smart guy. I bet he comes to all your games to cheer you on, doesn’t he?”
Something flicks across her face, and her smile turns downward. She shakes her head and lowers her eyes. “My daddy’s in jail. But I get to go once a week to see him, and I tell him all about my sports.”
A jolt of shock rockets through me so severely that I lurch upright. I feel like someone just kicked me in the gut so hard that I can barely breathe.
I hadn’t expected her to say that. I’ve never met a child whose father was in jail, which probably means I’m too incredibly sheltered.
I know this recreation center supports low-income families. I also know from my humanities studies that poverty leads to criminal action. I just never connected it in such a real way. It’s pressing down upon me that what I’m doing—handing out free sports equipment to all these kids—is really… nothing worthwhile at all. If I were to use the true power of my tiara and the money from our mines, I could stop poverty, which ends the drugs and criminal behavior and keeps families together.
For the first time in my life, I feel a bit worthless.
Before I can think of something to say to her, something that will make us both feel better, Jackson is at my side with his hand at my elbow. “Your Highness, it’s almost time to make your closing remarks.”
I jerk at his words because it’s nowhere near time to go. I don’t even know what to say, but I’m horrified to feel relief at the fact he’s going to speed up our visit and get me out of here. Because this little girl’s truth hurts way too much, and I really, really would like to leave.
I’m such a coward.
Jackson turns to the little girl and squats. He nods over his left shoulder and says, “I heard a rumor that they’re giving out cupcakes over there.”
The girl’s eyes light up and she flashes that toothless smile again. With a tiny wave, it’s forgotten that she has new shoes and her father is in jail. The promise of a sweet confection has taken her attention, and I’m grateful because she has to live with that reality every day.
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Let’s take a walk,” Jackson murmurs as he squeezes my elbow. He leads me across the gymnasium but my legs feel like lead. I manage to follow him out a set of double doors and down the hall past where Paul is stationed. He nods at both of us as Jackson turns us down another hall and we enter an empty office. He closes the door behind us and releases my arm.