How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,23
to chew my lip to keep from scoffing at the hypocrisy.
The Queen tapped my chart, the one showing Adele’s weight going up in a dreaded incline of red ink. “Look at this!”
“I’ll try harder,” Adele pleaded, not looking.
“Don’t try. No one got ahead in the entertainment business by trying. Do! Remember all the tenets of Wow! and support your sister princesses by making equal sacrifices.”
I knocked a pound off Adele’s weight and drew the line almost flat. The Queen was too preoccupied with self-righteous lecturing to notice.
Back at her office, I inputted the princesses’ weights while the Queen drafted her crazy APB, copies of which I had to insert into everyone’s personal mailbox down in Our World.
TO: Fairyland Permanent Staff, Summer Interns, and Other Assorted Underlings
FROM: Management
RE: Security Alert
It is my unfortunate obligation to inform you that last night our ever-industrious Security Patrols confirmed the sighting of a Teenage Male Intern of Indeterminate Identity crossing into the Forbidden Zone.
As you know, this is a blatant violation of Rule #22, which requires swift punishment. Dangers await in said zone, and we simply cannot risk allowing our summer interns to put themselves in harm’s way. (Moreover, our insurance carrier forbids it.)
In addition it is our understanding that said male possessed ulterior motives that violate the Fairyland Code of Ethics.
Therefore, in light of the Direness of this situation and the Expediency with which it needs to be resolved, we, Management, are extending a one-time offer: Any intern with information leading to the apprehension of this traitor will be rewarded with an immediate promotion in cast status. If the informant happens to already be a member of Fairyland royalty (prince, princess), then the reward will be an improved chance of winning the Dream & Do grant that, as you know, currently stands at $25,000.
Pertinent details, tips, and particulars should be written, signed, dated, and, in the interest of preserving confidentiality, deposited in the Customer Feedback box outside Personnel. Any information deemed meritorious will result in a personal meeting with Management.
Your cooperation in this matter is highly appreciated. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Management
That evening I would discover the Queen hadn’t been entirely forthright in her memo. Turned out the “Teenage Male Intern of Indeterminate Identity” wasn’t that indeterminate after all. She had an inkling of who he was. . . .
It was the parade, and the Queen and I were side by side on the float that rode behind the dancing princesses and princes. They twirled and bowed, clapped and kissed, in a chaste choreography of the Fairyland theme song: “We Are Family.”
Dash was paired as usual with Valerie, a French Caribbean Sleeping Beauty whose complexion was similarly flawless. Her long brown hair fell to her shoulders in natural waves that I, having been born with straight hair, envied with every fiber of my being.
When the Queen wasn’t looking, I took a minute to focus on their kiss, searching with forensic scrutiny for signs of genuine affection absent from the other couples who were simply acting their parts, and decided there was more to Dash and Valerie than mere performance. Their lips touched a little too long; his hand held hers a little too tightly. Despite my resolve not to mind, I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment.
“Give it up, Kiefer,” Ian said, coming up next to me in his Puss ’n Boots costume. “I told you. Never trust a dude who doesn’t eat steak.”
I flung a Tootsie Pop at his cat head. He caught it midair and handed it to a boy in shorts. “That’s the best you got? Give it another try.”
I aimed and fired. Again, Ian lifted his left hand and snatched it without looking. He gave it to a little girl, removing his feathered cap and bowing deeply. She reached up and gave him a kiss on his furry cheek that he accepted with a hand over his heart, stumbling and swooning as if overcome with love.
I laughed, mostly because he was so ridiculous in that costume with its thigh-high boots. “Those boots really work for you.”
“You sure?” He twisted and lifted his cape and craned to see his backside. “I worry they make my butt look big.”
The Queen cleared her throat in warning that we weren’t supposed to be goofing off while on the job. Chastened, I went back to work, tossing candy, catching fruit. But Ian, I noticed, simply gave her a salute and ran into the crowd, completely unperturbed.
The Queen ducked a flying apple that I managed to grab on