Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

4

Community.

Motherfucking.

Service.

I would be lying if I said pulling on my janitorial suit didn't make me grin, reflecting back on just how differently my future could have been looking. Eight-hundred and fifty-two hours total to clock in, and with most spent cleaning up the local town hall I couldn't complain. Though Mom was worried about how I was going to manage my classes and service hours, the past two weeks hadn't been too bad. April offered to drill me on my classes, making sure I kept up before I started my shifts at the hall or down at the local homeless shelter.

My officer, Han, was a pretty solid guy. He made me work most of the weekend, but scheduled no more than two hours on school days. With twenty-six hours down, at the rate I was going it would take me the better part of the semester to finish my time, but I was in no hurry.

I fucked up, and now I was paying the price.

I hoped I would learn from this.

That I would start thinking for myself, and stop following Clark blindly.

Han, though more kickback than my last probation officer, was a hard-ass for punctuality. Every minute was clocked in to the millisecond and I wasn't allowed a break until he was sure I'd made some headway in my assigned work. Saturday afternoon found me back in the town hall, mopping down the floors after the Neighborhood Watch meeting and the ceiling of the main theatre hall. With the drama nerds booking the hall every other night, the place was always in disarray and I swore glitter always managed to cake itself onto the ceiling fans.

I was scrubbing one of them down when Han entered. If I had to guess I'd punch Han's age at around mid-forties. Though the lines around his eyes were minimal, his hair was a little on the grey side, and his beard was well-groomed though a little too long. I was yet to see his hair styled any other way than a low bun, nor him dressed in anything other than a yellow button-down and burnt Sienna slacks.

"Clear out, Minders," he said, waving at me from the end of the ladder I had dangerously perched close to the end of the stage.

Behind him stood a girl with bright, bottle dyed, red hair. Her curls were wild and framing her face as she hunched over her phone, typing furiously. Every now and again she let out a blurted sound of annoyance.

"Everything okay? My breaks not for another half hour?" I said, after all, it was only one in the afternoon.

"Ms Danvers needs the stage. Scrape down the gum from under the seats for now. I know you've been avoiding the job all week," Han's replied, grabbing the bottom of the ladder and holding it steady. Internalizing my groan, I dropped down and yanked free the scraper from my tool belt, sliding under a row of chairs near the middle.

Danvers was quick to stride onto the stage, barely sparing Han and I a passing glance, huffing at the display of props before snapping her fingers.

Seemingly out of nowhere another teen appeared. The guy was tall, having to duck under a low hanging tree center stage to meet her, and dressed far too light for the chaotic weather outside.

"Everything's wrong! I swear God is trying to sabotage me!" she complained, voice echoing through the empty room. Trying not to eavesdrop I slipped on Thomas' EarPods I managed to smuggle in, keeping my music low enough in case Han decided to call for me again.

"Stop being so dramatic, Bella. The set looks great. You're the only one who doesn't see it."

There was a beat of silence before Bella responded, slightly hysterical.