A short time ago, in a kingdom not too far away, lived a beautiful baby girl named Livya. Livya’s parents ruled as the King and Queen of Manhattan, and she was their pride and joy. The day of her birth was a glorious one for the people of the island, and her jet black hair and pale skin were soon an iconic representation of royalty, youth, and potential.
​
In the years that followed, as freckles began to dot Livya’s white skin and her height reached four feet, an uneasiness grew throughout the kingdom like a plague. The commonfolk felt divisiveness between the royals and their own kind, and riots appeared in the streets.
​
Livya was no longer a sign of national pride, but a representation of inequality. The public school system lacked proper staffing and resources while Livya sat in pristine quarters with personal tutors all day for the sole reason that she was born into royalty and the island’s children were not. One day, protestors approached the palace, battering down guards and reaching the Queen’s chambers before security approached. The Queen’s windows had been shattered and she was cornered to a wall. The palace was no longer safe.
​
In order to keep their beloved daughter away, Livya was taken to the family cottage on the coast of Long Island to live with her caretakers. The King and Queen bid their daughter farewell until they gained control of Manhattan’s tumultuous situation. Livya did not understand what she did that was so wrong, but she missed her parents, and her dog and caretaker Sally were hardly satisfactory companions. Livya lived in isolation from her parents, aside from the occasional visit, but laws were rapidly changing for the young girl.
​
In order to solve the educational crisis on the island, the King and Queen, along with their supervisors released a statement that the funding generated toward Livya’s tutors would now be funneled into the public school system. When it reached Livya’s 15th birthday, she would be attending school with all of the other island children.
​
She had no say in the matter, and as her parents delivered the news to the young girl, they wiped their eyes and held back sobs. Livya understood it was what they had to do to remain in power and stop the riots, so she agreed.
​
After Livya blew out the 15th candle on her nine-layer chocolate fudge cake, she gathered her belongings and headed to her car. The limo was still intact, even if her tutoring was not. She held up her frilly, long dress and climbed inside, and as she sat for thirty minutes on her way to The Bronx Center of Education, Livya pondered the idea of meeting other children. Would they play piano together, or take turns knitting a scarf with her? Would she be invited to run around their front lawns and watch movies in their theatres?
Livya’s driver turned to her.
​
“You ready?”
​
He smiled. She barely knew this man. No, she was not ready, but she was a princess, so she would be complicit. Her driver opened the door for her. She put on her best camera-ready smile and inhaled sharply. Pointing the toe of her heel to the sidewalk, Livya carried her dress in her hands and walked toward the entrance of the school, bodyguards surrounding her.
She had not been expecting the crowds to appear, but cameras began flashing from all over the place. The princess looked down, as she was always told to do.
​
She walked through the doors of the school and was immediately greeted by Mrs. Stuart, the head of school. Livya had been briefed on the woman’s Harvard education, husband of twenty years, and children who attended the school. She also knew that her daughter, Lucille, would be Livya’s tour guide for the day.
​
Lucille curtsied before Livya. Livya smiled. Lucille had blonde curls that reached her shoulders and a white smile that lit up the room. Her powder blue jumper matched her eyes, and she was perfect. Livya never had a true friend before, but this seemed like a good starting story of one if she had ever seen one. She had dreamed of this moment since the time she was a young girl. A real friend? She was about to burst with excitement.
​
"Livya, it's a pleasure to meet you," Lucille said.
​