How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,39
him the sparkling green envelope. “Look, before you open this, I want you to know that I’m going to do whatever I can to clear your name.”
Marcus had recently come from Makeup, so he looked nothing like his usual surfer-dude self. His blond hair had been hidden underneath a Prince Charming black hair helmet that magically transformed anyone who wore it into a living Ken doll, and his eyes were huge in scary eyeliner.
He slid his finger under the Queen’s seal and removed the letter, his blue eyes zigzagging from side to side. I watched in dread as the news sank in. “You mean, I’m being fired?”
“I don’t know.” Prosecuted, more like it. “You have to go see her.”
Then those baby blues turned cold. “This is about Jess last night, isn’t it?”
“No. Definitely not.” I crossed my chest. “The Queen doesn’t even know.”
“You told her, didn’t you?”
“Marcus, I said not a word. You have to trust me on this.” My heart started beating fast. I couldn’t stand it when people started hating on me for no reason. I don’t know, call me human.
Trish the stylist came down the hall, two pairs of glasses hanging around her neck. “Oh, Zoe. I’m so glad you’re here. I just got messaged from the front office about the change in casting and was trying to find you. We’ll need to take your measurements and do the necessary alterations to Adele’s costume, so you’ll be ready this afternoon to go on as Cinderella.”
Marcus glared. He might have had the IQ of earwax, but he was smart enough to figure out that I was moving up, and he and Adele were moving down.
“Oh, I get how it is. You rat on your cousin and me and—wham!—you get bumped up to Cinderella.” He crumpled the summons into a ball. “You know, I was worried about you telling the Queen, but Jess said you were chill. Wait until she hears about this.” He tossed the summons ball onto the floor and brushed past me, rudely bumping his shoulder against mine.
That was so unfair. “You’re wrong, Blaisdel. Dead wrong!” I shouted, though it was too late. Marcus was in the elevator, arms folded. He flipped me the bird, and then the doors closed.
I knew I would never see him again.
“This is going well,” I said to no one in particular, and went to find Adele.
As I trotted through the maze of the Our World hallways, I tried not to imagine how pissed Jess would be when she learned about Marcus getting fired. Or how disappointed she’d be when he falsely accused me of selling out or what would happen when word got around Our World that I was made Cinderella after I snitched on my own best friend and cousin.
I decided then that you could not pit a bunch of ambitious, talented, extremely theatrical rising high school seniors against one another with twenty-five thousand dollars at stake and not expect blood to be shed. Many of us were going to fall. Maybe even me. Maybe even Jess.
I found Adele in the gym, working out with the rest of the second-shift princesses—Miranda, the redheaded Rapunzel; Laura, the raven-haired Snow White; and Valerie, the brunette Sleeping Beauty and Dash’s possible girlfriend.
This day just kept getting better and better.
Miranda, Laura, and Valerie were blessed with the perfect sort of symmetrical bone structure that made geneticists clap their petri dishes in glee. Miranda had sparkling green eyes and delicate features that called to mind well-bred, long-haired dachshunds. Laura’s jet-black hair and alabaster-white skin fulfilled every goth boy’s dream. But Valerie, with her exotic looks, was in a different category altogether.
On the opposite end of the spectrum was blond Adele, good ol’ Adele, who was huffing and puffing on the cross trainer in her pink spandex, desperately trying to lose the weight that had already stamped her DOA. Watching her try so hard and remembering how she’d been sobbing in the bathroom made me wish the Queen had read the Hansel’s complaint and put me on the bus back to Bridgewater first thing in the morning. Anything but this.
“Excuse me, Adele,” I whispered, trying to be discreet. “Could I speak to you alone?”
Laura and Valerie, who were lifting weights, exchanged knowing glances in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, but Adele just kept on chugging. She took a swig of water, wiped sweat off her forehead, and refused to make eye contact. “I’ve got fifteen more minutes. Can it wait?”