The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

American Royalty

March 27, 2005

Chicago had always been one of Jaclyn's favored cities, always her pick for summer intensives. Returninqg for the first time since she was a young teenager was overwhelming, but nothing had changed.

The plane ride to Chicago from Sweden had been long and painful. Thomas and her were both cranky when tired, and neither of them could sleep well in those stiff chairs. Alice complained about the food, mumbling that she wouldn't fit into her tutu with all the fat she was digesting.

Even Monsieur Preljocaj had been antsy, insisting Jaclyn stand every few hours to do pliés and tendus to stay loose. It definitely wasn't awkward squatting down in a tiny aisle with strangers watching her. Definitely not.

Being home, or as close as she had gotten within the last year, filled her with ecstasy. Chicago wasn't where she grew up, Villa Grove was an hour and a half south, but she had always admired it more than the suffocating town. Her grandma's had taken her to different shows over the years, her mom had taken her photos in the landscapes for auditions when they couldn't afford studios or photographers. Competitions had been in the city, her father taking her around just to get pictures of different landscape ideas.

It was all so heart warming, and comforting that the newly found weights on her shoulders were almost manageable. There were rumors that the show would be going to London, but a few days after landing Anjelin broke the joyful news that their tour would be continuing. Turning the rumors to truth.

At first her excitement had bubbled over texting Zara, Natania and William about the news. How she longed for London, Paris was home now, but even just a dip back in the waters would satisfy her.

She had completely forgotten about the tabloids.

While the dance world celebrated her, to any common person in England she was still "that whore" and she wasn't naive enough to believe it had changed.

In her pursuits to find the Chicago Tribune article she had interviewed for, before warm up, the hate found her first tearing at the armor she had built up for herself. It wasn't anything new, just a reporters statement that every tabloid was copying, and her rather numb reaction repulsed her. Jaclyn actually welcomed the single tear that slid down her cheek, a sign she was still breathing.

"Jaclyn thirty minutes till barre..." Joseph's voice trailed as he entered her room catching sight of the glistening stream that she hadn't wiped away fast enough.

"Did the press say something about the show?" He asked voice dangerously quiet as if sound would disrupt her.

She huffed, a mix of anger and amusement, "no, just about me." And seeing his confusion worry she cleared her throat reading off The Guardian's website.

"Jaclyn Webber may be returning to the London stage, but do not take this as a sign of her return to a certain Prince's favor. With graduation just around the corner William must start thinking seriously of his future, and the support he will need in it. Webber, even her name brings thoughts of inferiority, is from a an American middle class family lacking the wits to better themselves in the world. She lacks a bloodline, an education, and any respect that a young girl should have. The day she becomes the wife of a noble, or god forbid Queen, is the day I will end it all. Stick to the stage Jaclyn Webber it's the only place you have a shot."

Jaclyn stopped thinking she got the point across, either he was disturbed by the words her lack of reaction. Maybe a mix of both.