"He likes to be called Wills," one said, stressing the S.
"I tell you it's Will," the other one insisted. "The other way reminds him too much of his mother."
"Palo," Hunter mumbled through clenched teeth not looking at the girls. "Prince William likes to be called Palo."
At the mention of the royals name Hunter instantly had their attention.
"Excuse me?"
Hunter faced them and repeated what he said in a bored tone.
The girls exchanged a look.
"And how do you know this?" one demanded.
Hunter shrugged.
I bent over my work, not wanting to be a part of things. Writing furiously but smiling, amused.
"You know what?" Hunter said in mock amazement. "On Mondays he likes to be called Bobby."
The girls looked at him weirdly.
"Ricky," The name popped out of my mouth involuntarily.
The girls looked at me.
I cleared my throat. "He likes to be called Ricky on Monday."
"Oh yes," Hunter acknowledged. "Ricky on Mondays. Bobby on Wednesdays."
I watched the girls leave and heard Hunter's laugh with mixed feelings. I was glad he was smiling again and that he had a humorous side to his situation but I did feel sympathy for the girls. I mean, they could be me. And I would throttle any Etonian who would mislead my views on Prince William. Those poor two would probably be saying on the plane returning to where they came from, "Hey, Mom, guess what we learned in Eton--Prince William likes to be called Palo!" I looked at my notes and cringed. I changed the tape in the recorder. Was what Hunter telling me misinformation as well? How will I be able to tell? "Does this happen often?" I asked.
"When I feel like it."
Dont know how to take that line.
"It's worse on the Internet--"
I perked up at the mention of my playground.
"I'm thinking of leaving AOL," he expressed.
"No!" I said just a little too loudly.
He raised an eyebrow.
"I-I" Why did I detest the thought of him leaving a place I frequent? "When I leave England that'll be the only way I can stay in contact with you." Why did I want to stay in contact with him?
He said nothing.
"Would you -" I hesitated. "Would you like to talk with me on AOL?"
"Yes."
That made me smile. But that still didn't mean he was going to stay. "What's your SN?"
He gave it to me.
"There's still E-mail," I said hopefully more to myself than to him. "Do you have an addy?"
Hunter gave me that as well.
"The girls there just throw me off I guess," he said as though he needed to explain. "I've been called spoiled. Been cussed out. And they don't even know me."
Gee, has he seen the present state of my message board? Kinda know how that feels.
Funny thing is, all of these girls make this whole big thing about how Etonians aren't suppoesed to talk about the bloke, how we will be thrown out etc, and then they go and ask about him anyway! he paused. Either that or they go searching around for Eton info.
I laughed. We want you to get expelled!
Hunter laughed. Wills would never let it happen.
Prince protection? It actually exists?
And youre different, he said as if scolding me for using the word we.
Im different? How?
Other people, unless my sister has spoken to them, don't even know I know him, let alone am actual friends.
Well, its kinda critical that I know. If Im to write your story.
I didn't even tell you, Julia did, right?
Yeah.
"And the girls who lie!"
I jumped from shock. He should really stop doing that to me. But there was a rule of venting: once you start you can't stop.
"They IM me and pretend that they know nothing about Eton or Prince William. I feel like screaming, "Just ask me! I know what you really want!"
Wow! Being Prince William's friend can really be the avocado pits, huh? I wondered, Why don't you bail, Hunter? If you hate it so much, why don't you bail? William's stuck with his life, you're not. You could be free. So, why don't you bail? Because there's something called friendship and you don't bail of inconveniences. You put up with it. Even when the other guys kisses your gf? Maybe even then.
I checked the watch. I hated to leave him in mid-vent mode but I really had to wrap this up. "So how does this end? You and Julia get back together?"
"Everything's different. We can't go back." he told me.
I wrote down what he said and then read it. I looked at him. "I can't end it like that."
"Why not?"
"Why not? Why not?!" my voice was rising. A story must have three things. A main character (him), a conflict (the love triangle thingy), and a goal (what was the freaking GOAL?). He was a writer he should know this. "It's inconclusive."
He shrugged. "But that's the way it happened."
"It's inconclusive," I said again. "Readers are going to look at it and go: And then?????" He looked tired. I guess reliving his drama in talking to me exhausted him.
"Get back together with Julia-"
"I can't."
"Then let William get with Julia." At the glare he gave me I could tell he wasn't too happy with the idea. "Let me write it so that Julia's in the hospital on her deathbed and with her last breath she reveals who she truly loves. William -- or you." There's no ending!?!? "Why should I do it anyway?" I asked him.
"Don't you know? We're spoiled rich kids here. We always get what we want."
What did he mean by saying that? Was he saying "That's how society perceives us. Don't want to disappoint." I thought of the brat with the blonde kid earlier. Gee, where would society get that idea? Was Hunter saying: Thats how society percieves us and Im sick of it! Did he want me to say, "No no! Youre not like that. Ive spoken with you and from what I can see you're not like that. Same goes for Tref and Andrew. Theyre down to earth. Cant include William's name. Never met him.
I looked him straight in the eye. "Can I kill you?" I asked suddenly.
He smiled. "No."
There goes my favorite ending.
His smile became broader as if he knew what I had planned. Darn, he was cute! Aggravating but cute.
I dumped my garbage in the nearest trashcan. Making me write a story with no ending? Grrrr!
"If you love me you'll do it."
"If you love me you wouldn't force me," I called behind me. I was halfway out the door.
"Are you going to do it?" he called.
"I made no promises."

I took of my sandals and rolled up my pants legs so I could walk barefooted on Eton's grass. Just hoped I wouldnt step on anything nasty. I paced back and forth on the lawn. If I got any weird looks from the boys - and I think there were - I wasn't aware of them. I felt the dew crush under my feet. You still have two feet on the ground. Just because you talked to William's second in command you're still mortal. You're still on solid ground. To prove it I picked up a blade of grass with my toes. I was starting to doubt.
I sighed leaning against a tree trunk pulling my knees to my chest. From the corner of my eye I saw Hunter coming down the hill. I turned away from him and looked in the distance. I pretended to be totally absorbed in the arrangement of my folder.
"Writing?" he asked.
"Your story or PW?"
"Either one."
"I have writer's block," I mumbled. But I was staring at Prince William's picture when I said it.
He sat down next to me. I didn't see him as he did it since I was looking away but I heard him. "Is he too real for you now?" he asked quietly.
Is Prince William too real for me now? Why? Because I peeped into his love life? Because I'm in the presence of his friend now? Because every cliché about him: yearning to be normal, disgust at photographers, confusion at fame... is being brought to life by you? Is Prince William too real for me now? Does the discovery matter? It's not as if you can take me back. I closed the folder.
I felt him lean nearer to me.
Don't touch me, I thought, still not looking at him. I can stand talking to you but don't touch me. "Can you tell me why I'm doing this again?" I asked once more.
"To stroke my ego."
Oh, yes. That's right. His valuable ego. "Why aren't you writing it?" my voice shook with frustration. It's your story. You write it. I'm just going to make a mess of it! And you'll get angry at me! And- And--
"Because I don't want to-"
I closed my eyes and felt tears brimming. As if I do???
"And because it will be weird writing about myself. You know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know what you mean," I snapped, wiping the tears away before he could have a chance to see them. "Do you want to know how I know?"
"Uh, sure?"
I felt like slapping him. He wasn't getting how ticked off I was about it. "Because to write this story I'm going to have to put myself in it. If I write it from your point of view? As in put my words in your mouth. You're going to sound soooo gay." How do I know this? Because I tried it several minutes earlier and that's the way it turned out (hope all copies are burned).
There was silence.
Hunter stood up. "You're supposed to be a writer," he said, then left.
I watched him leave in bewilderment. What was that tone he used? Scorn?
I felt a throbbing headache coming on. It hurt too much to think.
I should've shouted back to him, "Same to you!" or "What's that supposed to mean?" I stared at the back of my palms. You know, it's times like these when you realize what the middle finger was invented for.
Hunter's words echoed unmercifully back and forth between the space where my brain's supposed to be. It was a taunt and it was working. Dang! From a cute guy? From and Etonian? From a friend of William? How could it not work on me?
So he wanted to speak in terms of "supposed to be"? How's this? This was not supposed to happen! I was supposed to go in Eton, attend the tour, go out. Peter is supposed to be taking me around London and pointing "There's Big Ben". Hunter and I, we were never supposed to meet. This must've been a mistake. Me being who I was: PW fanfic writer and him being who he was: friend to William - this wasn't supposed to happen. Why did it happen? Why did he tell me what he told me? Why did I have this privileged information?
To put it in a story.
To put it in a story.
To put it in a story.
Had he ever stop to think what this could do to me? He might be okay with it. With being William's friend and not letting it go to his head. Congratulations, Hunter, you have special powers. The rest of the world... Maybe we're not that strong. Maybe I'm not. We faint when we see the prince. We shriek when we see the prince. Here I was, I haven't spoken to William himself, yet. Just you. And I was shaking. I'm going to need some help if I start sticking my nose high in the air because: Wow! I know about William's love life. I've talked with his friend. Damn! I shook hands with Tref and Andrew. They're hands shook William's at some point. Shaking the hands that shook the hand...
I knew I was stalling. Why was I stalling? Because I was breaking Starrside's code. (I didnt know I had one.)
Send William back in time -- as long as it's fiction.
Give him a fatal disease -- as long as it's fiction.
Turn him into a frog -- as long as it's fiction.
Make him act like the jerk -- as long as it's fiction.
Kill him. Yes, kill him! -- as long as it's fiction.
Hunter was asking me to break that code.
And also there was...I've been writing about Prince William for so long. It's almost second nature to write about him. Can I break away from him? Will I succeed? Or is my fame as a writer only linked with his? Without him as my main character, do I fail? Did I want to find out? Can I take that risk?
And I was afraid. Afraid of what Hunter would say when he saw his story. What if I failed to meet expectations? What if he took one look at it and cried, "No, no. That's not what I meant at all. That's not what I meant at all!" Can I take it? Would my effort be worth it? If that's the way it ends?
I sighed, looking at the sky. As if I could cast my troubles to it and never see them again.
Forget Hunter! Just do it! a voice inside me screamed. Yeah, I'm sure that's what William was thinking when he kissed Julia.
It started to rain.

"...No boy may give information or contribute photographs, articles, letters etc. to any journalist or publication..." I was in the Eton library (yes, they have a section on the royals) and flipping through Valerie Garner's book of Prince William when the paragraph containing that sentence caught my attention. It's on page seventeen.
My eyes bulge. Publication? Wasn't a webpage a sort of publication? Did Hunter want to get us into trouble? Hold it! What's this we stuff? It's not as if I'm going to school in Eton or anything.
I almost bumped into a girl if she hadn't noticed me first.
"Hi."
Julia. I looked at her.
"How's the story going?" she asked me.
"I wish I knew," I mumbled. I looked at her intently. If Hunter can't give me an ending maybe she could. "Can I ask you stuff about Hunter? You could say no if you want."
"Sure," she told me.
We went to a table.
Hunter's ex-. I was sitting with Hunter's ex-. It's not as if I think of her as that all the time. Just the first two seconds when we begin a conversation. It's how she was introduced to me. If she was introduced to the world as William's girlfriend; will the same effect happen? Is that what Hunter was protecting her from? That would suck. She had so much more to offer.
I spy with my wandering eye... Etonians. Near the bookshelf was the blonde with the stubborn cowlick that I was admiring over in the cafe earlier.
"See anything you like?" Julia teased.
I blushed in my hands and pointed him out to her.
She slapped me. "That's my brother!"
Name?
Stephen. (pronounced Steven not Stefen. Drat!)
"Introduction," I begged.
The bell rang and he had to get to class. Dang!
She gave me a sympathetic shrug. "I'll tell him you think he's cute."
I noticed her hand on the table. The ring shone on her right fourth finger. The heart no longer facing her. I know who gave it to her...
She saw me admiring it and and played with it. "Hunter gave it to me," she said softly.
I smiled not knowing whether to be happy or sad. Happy for what was and sad for what mightve been.
You know, there would be a time of day where we would both think of a kiss. Right at the exact same moment?
To whoevers going to be my BF: I want that! I want that!
She shrugged. "What do you want to know about Hunter?" she asked me.
"Would you go back together with Hunter if he asked?" If she said yes then I'd smush both her and Hunter together like two sticky halves of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"No," she told me. Was that regret in her voice? "We can't go back to the way we were."
"Would you go with William should he ask?"
I forgot her answer. It sounded like a no. But not exactly a no. Hmmm...
"Why?" I asked.
"I can't be with William knowing Hunter's watching and I can't be with Hunter knowing that William's watching."
Girl has problems! Tsk tsk. What was the point of having two guys - two hot guys - going after you when you couldnt be with either one of them? "Well, you'll just have to get a new boyfriend and both of them can watch!" There, that sounds fair, doesn't it? "When did you break-up?"
"Six months ago."
Six months ago????? Hmmm, did Hunter mention it? Had I dozed off in the middle of his whining? Six months? I thought the break-up was three-days ago! At the most a month. Six months! My mouth dropped open.
She gave me an odd look.
"Uh-uh," I stammered. "When did you meet Hunter?"
"When we were.... fourteen."
"When did you meet Wills."
"Known him forever."
"When did Hunter meet Wills."
"Six or seven."
Did the calculations in my head. Hunter wanted to protect Julia from William's world? She's known William longer. True. She's known him longer. But Hunter's had more exposure.
"How did you and Hunter meet?"
"Through Wills."
Is it just me or this getting be more and more like a bad soap opera. I cocked my head and looked at her lips. She kissed William? You know, if she did choose to take William I would mind it a bit. She's my favorite bet. She's grown up with him. Knows what to expect. She's not one of those girls who'd grab him and plaster his face over every single magazine cover just to flaunt to the world "Hey, look what I've caught!" Here's a thought. We all know Prince Charming went for Cinderella because she had the right foot size. But would Cinderella have gone for Prince Charming if he wasn't a prince? Okay.... I admit. Ulterior motive. If Julia goes with Hunter; then William is still up for grabs!
Hmmm... If Julia goes with William. Then Hunter's available. And I've been single since the beginning of time. Oh, gee. What to do? What to do? "I wish I had a boyfriend." I sighed.
"Never had one?"
I smiled. "Never been touched. Never been kissed." My usual reply. (Ahem! Any guy wanna change my destiny?)
"Your expectations are probably too high." she guessed.
My expectations too high? I think my sister's bf said the same thing to me about a week ago. My reply? "My expectations too high? All I want is a decent looking male within my age range. Zit-less. Can carry on an intellectually stimulating conversation. Preferably with a British accent. How high an expectation is that?"
Without blinking he replied. "You want Prince William."
Exactly! How high an expectation is that?! Incidentally, Hunter also fits the description. But then I'd have to keep him angry if I wanted that Brit accent. Not bad. Could be fun. My attention turned back to Julia. "How did it all end?"
"It was over when Hunter said, "It's over."
Hunter was the one that called it off? All right, where was the boy? I needed to box him. I prefer the girl breaking things off. I think it's the feminist in me. Women's lib. All that. Don't know which hurts more though. Never been in a break-up. To do that I'd have to be in a relationship first, right? And we all know that hasn't happened yet.
It was after a row.
Row, row, row your boat...
Row, meaning fight. Brit slang, she explained.
"When you kissed William... was he doing a solo act?" I continued my interrogation. "Or -- did the kiss have a twist?"
"I kissed him back," she told me.
Oh yeah... I could see where Hunter could get upset over this. I scanned my notes. Questions. Questions. Hmmm... How long had William been crushing on Julia? Was it a childhood thing that bloomed? And what about Zara Simmonds? Just a rumor? What if it were real?

Zara: No, William. I can't be your girlfriend anymore.
William: (Brit accent). Why not?
Zara: You're in love with someone else.
William: (pause) Julia...
Zara: (sad smile) You've known it all along.
(close curtain).

I saw it in my mind. William leads Julia next to a building. They are alone. Overcome with the magic and romance of the moment (and his hormones. let's not forget them) he grabs her and kisses her.
Kiss twist.
Julia pulls away. "William, what are you doing? Hunter's going to-"
"Julia, I love you!" he declares.
There is confusion in her eyes as she finds it hard to construct a sentence. "B-but how? Why? When?
"I've always loved you," he expresses. His breathing thick.
She thinks about her boyfriend. Hunter. "Why now, Wills? Why tell me now?"
"Julia, I never realized how much you meant to me--until I couldn't have you."
Eck! Yuck! Puke! Barf! Oh, man! Could he really use such a cheesy line like that? If he can I'm sure he can pull it off (William-obsessed part of me talking there). Maybe talking to Hunter hadn't changed me as much as I thought. I sighed.
"What's wrong?" Julia asked.
"Hunter," I said. Though nothing was really wrong.
"Oh, don't sigh for him," she advised. "He's not worth it."
They're my sighs and I can do whatever I want with them. Besides... It's not as if Hunter broke my heart... Yet.
I thought about "the fight that never happened." Thought of Andrew. What if he didn't stop it? William threw the first punch. Would they have just decked it out wherever they were? Or would they have taken it outside and a circle of boys would form around them and call out for blood? Would there be bet-taking? They'd take off their jackets. Maybe even their shirts? In winter weather? I don't think so. Besides my estrogen level would go out of control if I imagined them shirtless. Who'd win? Part of me says William. He's a prince (and because I want him to?) And another part says Hunter. He's American. Who had the greater animal instinct? Who's been in more fights? Has either of them been in a fight? "Were you there when Hunter and William fought?" I asked Julia.
"No. But Andrew did give me a play-by-play."
I smiled at the mention of Andrew's name.
"With voices," she grinned.
I would've loved to have heard it. I turned back to my notes. They were all after the break-up. "Since I'm only experiencing the aftermath. I need to know the difference between now and before."
"Okay," Julia nodded.
"Compare now and before. What's different between you and Hunter?"
"What do you mean what's different? Everything's different!" she sounded like she was going to cry. Or she was frustrated.
Okay... generalizations aren't going to help me when I'm looking for specifics. "Now and before. The difference between Hunter and Wills relationship." I shot the criteria out to her.
A pause, maybe to compose herself from her earlier display of near hysterics. "Surprisingly, not much has changed."
Hmmm... I take that as, they always hated each other's guts. Or they're pretending for Julia's sake. Maybe for everyone's sake. Or they could still be really good friends. It could happen. "And you and William?" I asked.
"The incident brought us...closer."
Oh. Oh! Interesting.... Very interesting.....
"So are you going to write it?" she asked.
"I made no promises," I mumbled. "You don't feel weird about me writing it?" I saw a way out. If she didn't want it done then I could tell Hunter. "It's your story but its Julia's story too. She doesn't want it done. I can't write it."
But, of all things, the girl said: "No, I think it would be quite interesting actually. Reading about myself. Knowing I was part of the inspiration." Darn!
But, its your love life out for the world to see. I pointed out.
She smiled. No ones going to believe it. Itll be under fiction.
I'd just like to take this moment to say: WEIRD! London is filled with weird weird people. I think it's the water supply. Shouldn't someone take this up with the Prime Minister? Oh, Tony!... "So you and Hunter are not going back together." I asked again to make sure I heard her right the first time.
She laughed bitterly. She'd give it a chance if Hunter would give it a chance but... Hunter's not going to give it a chance?
Okay... so Hunter doesn't want to get back with Julia. Julia's not going to get back with Hunter. So what am I do bugged about? (Why am I writing this story?) For some strange reason I think they still like each other. Six months! Since months since the break-up. If they had no feelings for each other you'd think they'd move on. Out of everybody in the triangle... William's the only I see in a straight line (but the again, I do regard him as Prince Perfect) He saw what he wanted and he made his move. Maybe it wasn't the right move. But still he did something. Some action. Hunter! Julia! Move, please. And if they get their hearts broken again? What then? Sigh... Best not to say anything.
"What time is it?" she asked me.
"Near four," I looked at the clock on the wall. Half an hour more before Pete picks me up. It was a welcomed thought.
She stood up. "I have to go."
"Okay, tell Stephen I think he's cute."
She left.
And I was left alone in the library save the librarian and his assistant. I opened the Prince William books I collected from the shelf and began looking through them once more. As if I hadn't done so a gazillion-million times already. My head swam as I saw pictures of Hunter. There he is! There he is! my brain would announce to itself, which would do nothing to help relieve my headache. If anything it was enhancing the sharp pain. Andrew! There goes Andrew! it would shout as the familiar face would appear in a photograph. Is that Tref? I'd squint at the a page. Mt. Olympus only knows what the librarian was thinking. Is that Nick or Hunter? I'd look at the dark-haired boy, placing the book right at the end of my nose. He's short. Must be Hunter. My headache became worse.
I then began to read the short narratives and the captions. "Prince William attended such-and-such party with friends...", "Prince William arrived here-and-here later with three friends...", "William's friends immediately acted by doing this-and-this..." Hunter! One of them could be Hunter! a voice inside me yelled as I read the words. For some reason the revelation scared me.
I placed a sharpened end of the pencil I was holding against my temple. I could feel it leaving an indention. Lead. Aren't bullets made out of lead? Oh, yes... Such happy thoughts I have. I threw the pencil down. Not liking how I felt with the thought. It rolled across the table noisily and landed softly on the floor carpet. That kid who died... I wonder if he was a writer.
I laughed nervously. It resounded in the empty room. Okay, jokes over, I thought panickedly. This is not my life. This is not my life. This couldn't be my life. This has to be someone elses life. Yoo-hoo. To whoever it is who's life I borrowed, you can have it back now! I'm done with it!
Silence.
I groaned.

Before the legend became myth