Melinda and Trixie walked into the alleyway, waiting for Mia and Clarisse. "We're gonna be late!" Trixie insisted.

Mia and Clarisse eventually started walking down the stairs. "So, I'm gonna be 16 this year, and my mom traded two paintings to get me a 1966 Mustang. You know what a Mustang is, right?" They made it to the bottom of the stairs and started walking side-by-side.

"I raise mustangs. That is not a sensible car for a princess," she informed.

"It's not a sensible car for anyone. See, it doesn't run."

"I suppose I could donate something to this vehicle." Clarisse turned to Trixie who was putting on tennis shoes, skateboard in hand. "And what about you, Bellatrix?" she asked. 

Trixie stood straight. "I handle my own fees." Her eyes were narrow in an almost-glare.

Melinda stood beside her, sympathetic. 

"Good morning, Mr. Robutusen," Trixie bade.

"Who is this gentleman?" Clarisse asked, gesturing to the rude neighbor.

"Our neighbor, but you wouldn't want to meet him. He doesn't have very nice manners," Mia whispered.

Clarisse smiled nonetheless. "Good morning," she bade as well. "There's someone I want you to meet." She held out her arm, gently pushing Mia.

"OK," Mia consented.

They all walked toward the road when Trixie stopped in her tracks. "Whoa. ... You have two limousines?" she asked.

Clarisse kept guiding Mia forward. "One is for you girls."

"Do you raise limos, too?" Mia asked.

"No!" she laughed. "Amelia,Bellatrix , this is Joseph."

Joseph bowed, but Mia held out her hand. "Hi, nice to meet you." They shook hands. 

They all turned to Trixie who simply nodded silently. 

Clarisse turned to Melinda. "And I don't believe we've had the pleasure." 

"Oh," Trixie remembered. She turned to Melinda. "Mel, Queen Clarisse Renaldi," she introduced without accenting her surname. She turned to Clarisse. "Miss Renaldi, Melinda Halliwell." 

They shook hands. "I'd like it if Joseph could drive you girls to school." 

Melinda looked at Trixie who shook her head. "Arrive at school in a limo? So, you want to draw attention to us?" she asked sarcastically. She briskly walked across the street and got on her skateboard. 

*

After school, the girls were walking to Trixie's studio and talking. 

"So, once this ball passes, you're really going to go back to pretending you grandmother doesn't exist and not think about you father?" Melinda asked incredulously. 

"He wasn't my father," Trixie insisted. 

"Yes, he was."

"Biologically, yes, but I never met the man." 

"Be fair: He sent you a card and gift every year on your birthday and they were beautiful presents. Remember the apothecary cabinet?" 

"That was nice. And he paid for my school tuition," Trixie slowly came 'round. 

"Yeah," Melinda agreed whole-heartedly. 

"Still I can't have it both ways. I'm either a witch or a princess. Witch - no social life. Princess - I strip my powers." 

"And lose us." Melinda meant the Halliwells. They were like the family she didn't have. No one, Thermopolis or Renaldi, understood the witch side of her life. 

"And gain a country," Trixie reminded. 

"Ouch," Melinda commented. 

*

"Tell me, how does my mother, or any person for that matter, go into a parent-teacher conference and come out with a date?" Mia demanded.

"Mia, Mr. O'Connell is not married, he's not living with anyone, plus he's not pierced, tattooed, or hair plugged. Do you realize how rare a find that is south of Market Street?" Helen asked, washing her hand of the painting she'd just finished. 

"Did it ever occur to you that if you dated one of my teachers, it would give the other kids license to mock me for the rest of my life?"

Trixie shrugged. "Well, I'm already a senior so..." She went up to her room. 

*

The next morning, Trixie was exhausted, but it was worth it. She was in the library at the Genovia Consulate. She wore her usually straight hair up in a bun. 

"Charlotte, take notes, will you? Bellatrix, circle slowly, so I can evaluate the work to be done. Well, her carriage is better than her sister's. Hairstyle." She tipped her hands back and forth. 

"To be fair, I didn't get wake up 30 minutes ago," Trixie yawned. "All I can say is thank God I have to wear a uniform to school." She was still turning. 

Clarisse smiled lightly. She was a lot less rude and a lot more agreeable when she was tired. She did as she was told. However, Clarisse wasn't sure if any wisdom she imparted would be retained. "Complexion. Make-up?" she asked. 

"I never wear make-up." 

"Stop!" Clarisse ordered, hand up. 

Trixie immediately ceased, facing the women. 

"Eyes, lovely," she complimented. "Possibly better when she is wide awake. Eyebrows don't need much." Clarisse walked closer to the half asleep child. "Do you require glasses or contacts, a retainer, or anything of that variety?" 

"I need glasses to read. But they stay in my purse." 

Clarisse forced her chin up. "The neck is seemly. Ears... like her father," she complimented as she walked around the teen.  

Trixie lifted her hand and gently touched her earlobe which donned her favorite earrings. 

"I like her taste in jewelry." 

That reminded Trixie that she was still wearing the pendant Clarisse had given her. 

"However, I would appreciate if you wore less rings. Why have you not passed on any of your taste or style to your sister?" Clarisse asked. 

"Um, one: she's older so if anything gets passed on, it's to me. And two: she doesn't care. She feels inside is what truly matters. And it is, but it helps to look good too. But not too good or people assume you're an idiot. Which is why I'm no longer blonde." 

"And your nails. Your sister said everyone had painted nails." She said it like painted nails were the most atrocious thing she'd ever heard of. 

"Everyone does." 

"Except you." 

Trixie examined hers quickly. She walked over to her laptop bag and pulled out a file. "Why would anyone follow my trends?" Once satisfied, she put it back in her bag. 

Clarisse frowned at that question. "May I see you with your glasses on?" she requested. 

Trixie sighed and reached inside. Pulling out a mandala-decorated case. 

Forcing it open, she pulled out a pair of brown, cats-eye glasses, unfolding them. 

She put them on and blinked a couple times as her eyes adjusted to how they should see. 

Clarisse tilted her head as she looked at the nonplussed teen. "You look like they belong on you." 

"They do," Trixie replied. 

"No, it appears you should keep them on. Always." 

Trixie looked at her directly for the first time since putting said items on. "You're a lot prettier with these." 

Clarisse chuckled. "Thank you!" She clapped. "Now, onto walking."

" 'Cause I need real help with that!"

"When walking in a crowd, one is under scrutiny all the time. So we don't schlump like this." She raise her shoulders and dropped her still-level head. She came to stand beside Trixie and showed a demonstration. "We drop the shoulders, we think tall. We tuck under and we transfer the weight from one foot to the other invisibly." 

Trixie didn't move. 

"And you already stand tall and your posture is grand. My apologies. I am attempting to keep you at the same pace as your sister. However, you are farther ahead, naturally. Why don't we sit?" 

Trixie obeyed and hooked her ankles like always. 

"Princesses never cross their legs in public. And I'm glad you already tuck one ankle behind the other. Try placing your hands gracefully on the knees."

Rather than placing them atop each other, Trixie was clasping one hand around the others' thumb. Another nervous habit of hers. 

Clarisse detected her nervous energy and called, "Charlotte, I think it's time for tea." 

It was funny, Trixie saw Charlotte hooking her ankle like how Clarisse was instructing to do.