Free Just Your Average Princess by Kristina Springer

scrub smells amazing. Seriously, it’ll fly off the shelves if we stock it.” She looks at my dad expectantly. She’s so darn sure of herself.
    My dad leans back in his chair, considering this. After a few seconds he looks at Milan and gives her a huge smile. And my mom smiles at my dad. Everyone looks happy. Except for me. I cross my arms and slump in my seat.
    â€œGood thinking, Milan,” Dad says. “We can probably do that. What do you say, Julie?”
    Mom’s nodding. “It sounds like a great idea. I’m sure I can whip it up. And we can put it in tiny adorable jars. You’ll help me make it, won’t you, Milan?”
    â€œOf course,” Milan agrees. “I’d love to!”
    What? Are they joking? She’s been here for all of a week and a half and now we’re letting her develop products?
    â€œIt’ll be a lot of fun,” Milan continues. “And Jamie can fetch us the pumpkins. Right, Jamie?”
    Everyone looks at me. I give them a tight smile. Yay. I can be the pumpkin fetcher. Wonderful.
    â€œTell him your other idea, Milan,” Sno-Cone urges.
    Oh God, there’s more?
    Mom and Dad look at Milan eagerly and Milan is grinning. “Okay. You know how you sell hot chocolate and hot apple cider at the concession stand?” she asks. “I think you need to sell something else for more”—she waves a hand in the air—“sophisticated tastes.”
    Dad gives Mom a puzzled look. I know what he’s thinking. Sophisticated and Average aren’t exactly synonymous. “What do you suggest?” he asks.
    â€œPumpkin spice lattes,” she returns, clearly pleased with herself.
    I’m secretly pleased too—Dad’s going to shoot this idea down. He hates froufrou coffee drinks. Straight black coffee is all he sells at the concession stand.
    Dad twists up his face. “Hmm. I’m not sure about that one, Milan. It sounds a little … complicated.”
    â€œOh, but it’s not, Uncle Henry,” Milan says. “I’ve been working the espresso machine at home since I was six. If you get an espresso machine for the concession stand I’d be happy to make the pumpkin spice lattes.”
    Dad mulls it over for a few moments and then finally grins. “Okay then. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Let’s do it.”
    And that’s my signal. I abruptly stand. “May I be excused?” I say to Mom. “I have a lot of homework tonight.” That, and I can’t sit here and listen to this for another single second.
    Mom nods. I pick up my plate and utensils and head for the kitchen, pausing briefly at the garbage can to dump in my dinner. I place my dishes in the sink and head for my bedroom, avoiding the dining room.
    Once I’m safe behind my bedroom door, I fling myself onto my bed and let out a scream into my pillow. I flip over onto my back and whip my pillow across the room, almost knocking over my desk lamp. I’m so mad! What the heck was that? Now Dad’s kissing Milan’s butt too? C’mon!
    I get off my bed and pace around the room. It’s ridiculous. This whole thing is completely ridiculous. You know, I’ve always told myself that Dad couldn’t help being so cold to me. That he always wanted a boy and did his best dealing with the disappointment of my being a girl. But with how he’s acting with Milan now, well, he’s never been nice to me like he is to her. And she knows it. So let’s get this straight—not only is Milan seeking Danny’s attention, now she wants my Dad all to herself too?
    I kick my thick history book lying on the floor and let out a yelp. “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” I whisper, sitting back on the bed and leaning over to rub my toe. Ugh. That’s going to leave a bruise.
    I need to zone out, to forget things for a bit. Maybe read a book or watch TV. I glance at my nightstand and spot the