Chapter 1

When I Find Out Princess Apprentices Are an Actual Thing

"So what's the deal with this dance thingy coming up?" I ask Alicia as I slide into my seat in homeroom. I'd noticed a flyer taped to the wall by my locker this morning, something about a Pinkerton Ball and Royal Court Assembly. I have no idea what that even is, but everyone was crowding around that poster like it was a treasure map or something.

"DANCE THINGY?" Alicia shouts, grabbing my hand and squeezing it good and hard. "The Pinkerton Ball and Royal Court Assembly is only THE BIGGEST DEAL of the whole entire school year!"

"A dance is the biggest deal of the school year?" I ask. We never had dances at my old school, Sacred Heart. Instead, the boys got to go on "wilderness retreats" while the girls had these supersized sleepovers in the lunchroom where we wore fuzzy slippers, got mini facials, and slept on air mattresses. I have to say, it was a little bit of heaven-especially the year Beatrice Ballard's mom bought all the fourth grade girls matching pink satin pj's. It was all good times until around 4 a.m. when even the nicest girls went all cuckoo-ca-choo on you from lack of sleep, and the chaperone moms-the same ones who had happily painted flowers on your toes a few hours before-would start to lose it too, going all bushy-haired and bug-eyed just as the sun came up. My mom always thought the whole thing was a really bad idea, and now that I think about it, she may have had a point. Maybe this dance idea is a better one.

"Oh, it's way more than a dance," Alicia insists, nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls you see in the back of people's cars.

"Tell us more," Elizabeth whispers, leaning in for the scoop.

Elizabeth showed up at Pinkerton the same week I did and we bonded right away. She's super sweet, but she barely ever speaks above a whisper, so I only get about every third word. I can see her mouth moving really fast and I know she's got a lot to say, but bits and pieces are all we hear. Since Elizabeth's mom talks the same way, we don't expect the volume to get turned up anytime soon. But that's okay. Everybody's got their little thing, right? I mean, I chew the inside of my cheek whenever I talk to a cute boy. The other day when Jake Ritchie said hi to me in the courtyard, I tasted blood for two hours.

"Well, every year, the sixth and seventh grades each elect three princess apprentices," Alicia explains, tucking a stray blond strand behind her ear. "They're going to announce them this Friday during morning assembly!"

"Wait, wait. What the heck is a princess apprentice?" I ask.

"Oh! Well, it's a really big deal to be a princess apprentice because for the whole next year, you get to serve the actual Pinkerton Princess-the eighth grade girl chosen by the school to reign," Alicia explains. "A princess apprentice gets to carry the Pinkerton Princess's book bag, take her lunch order, and bring her towels after PE. It's a huge honor."

"You're serious?" I ask. Alicia nods enthusiastically. I cut my eyes over to Elizabeth to see if she understands the glory of securing a spot on the Pinkerton Royal Court. She smiles, and I get the feeling she might just think the idea is as flat-out wacky as I do. But since we're both pretty new to this school, I figure it's probably best not to poop on the royal parade.

Elizabeth's family moved to town to be closer to her grandparents the same week I had to switch from Sacred Heart to Pinkerton when my dad lost his job. You'd better believe I was not happy about it, especially since I turned twelve about five minutes after I got to Randolph J. Pinkerton Middle School. Twelve was looking pretty lame there for a while, between getting separated from my BFF Stella, getting clobbered with a history book on my very first day of class, and basically finding out I was next to invisible at Pinkerton. But then my crazy Aunt Fiona sent me the Mostly Magical Boots and Frank-the-genie showed up and everything changed.

I know what you're thinking: Magical boots? A genie named Frank? Yeah, right, Malone. You've been mixing Pop Rocks and Coke again, haven't you? Trust me, I was right there with you. Especially when Frank-the-genie told me the part about how the boots are mostly magical. And then I was all, if these boots can't make me fly or turn my brother Mickey into a hamster, what good are they? But it turns out, whenever I put on the Mostly Magical Boots (MMBs for short) and say the magic words-something I did by accident the first time, before Frank had a chance to tell me how the MMBs work-I get to be somebody else for a whole day. Anybody I want.

Awesome, right?

So now I'm living proof that magical boots and genies are real, because I already spent a day as Becca Starr, the most famous rock star in the universe. I got to ride on her tour bus and get my hair and makeup done and sing onstage for twenty thousand screaming fans. Oh, and I got to meet Justin Crowe, the second most famous rock star in the universe and, it turns out, a super-nice, totally normal guy. The only part about the MMBs that stinks is that I can't tell anyone about the boots-not even Stella-or the magic will disappear right off them. Poof! Just like that.

Rats, right? I know.

"Why is the Royal Court such a big deal?" I ask Alicia now, trying to wrap my brain around the whole idea.

"Well," Alicia gushes, "everyone knows that you can't be a Pinkerton Princess or Prince someday if you never served as a princess apprentice or a duke. Plus..."

"Plus what?" Elizabeth and I ask at the exact same time when she drags out the word for a year and a half.

"Plus, every single year except one, the Marshmallow Queen-which I'm sure you guys know is the highest title at the biggest festival in town-was a former Pinkerton Princess! So the royal court is really a launching pad for all sorts of great things."

"If you say so," I tell Alicia. After all, Alicia is practically the mayor of Pinkerton. She knows everyone and is nice to everybody-including the new girl in the ridiculous reindeer sweater. (That was me.) She's been great about showing me the ropes around here, so I guess I'm going to have to believe her when she says this Pinkerton Ball business is all kinds of awesome. Even though, if I'm being honest, it sounds like the silliest thing since canned string.

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Excerpted from Maggie Malone Gets the Royal Treatment by Carolyn Evans, Jenna McCarthy
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.