How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,40

all its sparkling Fairyland glory, not with Laura and Valerie hanging on my every word. However, I couldn’t keep the Queen waiting a second longer. “Actually it’s kind of important.” Getting on tiptoe, I put my lips to her ear, “I have something from the Queen.”

Adele said, “Yeah. I guessed, seeing as how you’re her weasel assistant.” Still, she wouldn’t get off.

By now Miranda was on the case, too, the three other princesses shooting worried glances at Adele, who was upping the awkward by being so stubborn. Left with no other choice, I pulled out the summons and said, “The Queen wants me to be sure that you read this.” When she showed no indication of taking it, I slipped it onto the little shelf where you’re supposed to put magazines or your iPod.

“No, thanks.” Adele flicked it off. Just like that. It went pffft across the room, hitting a treadmill and falling to the floor.

This was like babysitting Jaden Conroy, who used to dump his milk on the table intentionally. Patiently I picked up the letter right as my iPhone sang “Every Breath You Take” . . . in the pocket of my gown.

My boss’s pinched face filled the tiny screen. “Where’s Adele? Marcus has already come and gone. The second shift starts at two, and she’s not here.”

Adele kept pumping.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said, taking the phone into the hall. “She won’t read the summons.”

“She won’t, eh?” The Queen’s crimson lips pursed. “Then put her on. Now.”

Oh, god. Please let this be over. I made another trip to the gym, where Adele had taken the cross trainer to its maximum level, her face beet red and glistening with perspiration. “The Queen wants to talk to you.” I held up the phone.

Adele snatched it, breathing perhaps more heavily than was necessary, and put it on the book ledge. “I can’t read the letter now. I’m on the cross trainer.”

“Well, stop that and come here immediately. I need to speak with you.”

“No can do. I need to lose seven pounds by Monday, remember?”

“Not necessary. You’re a Class B Ordinary Cast Member, mostly like a Fairy Godmother now. Guests expect you to be plump.”

I winced.

Adele pressed the Pause button on the machine as her face fell and her eyes began to well with tears. “But you said—”

“I gave you three weeks, Adele. Four, if you count what Andy told you the first day. You are now three sizes larger than Simone. Do you know what they’re calling you around the palace? Cinderblock!”

I gasped, and so did the princesses. Valerie mumbled something in French that sounded like le witch while Miranda said to Laura, “That’s not right.” Laura made a fist and pounded it into the palm of her other hand. Tough one, that Snow White.

Adele said nothing. She kept her gaze straight ahead, focused on the poster that showed you how to take your pulse. She was like a zombie. Standing, breathing, but not there.

“Do you understand?” the Queen demanded.

“Yes,” she answered robotically.

“Good. Then go upstairs, get your tiara, and turn it into Wardrobe. I’ve got just a few hours to suit Zoe up and train her to fill in for you.”

Adele swiveled her head in my direction, her bland eyes targeting mine with the kind of fierce hostility you find in rabid dogs or angry drivers on the Turnpike. Her resentment was so palpable, I could feel it on my skin, burning hot.

“It’s only temporary,” I squeaked.

She tossed me the phone. “I bet you’ve been jacking up my weight on your stupid chart.” She stepped off the cross trainer and put her icky, sweaty nose against mine. “You planned this, so you could take my place as Cinderella.”

“No! I’ve been knocking off ounces whenever I can.”

“Then you admit you’ve been tampering with my chart. I knew it.” She squirted water into her mouth and spit a stream into the wastebasket better than any jock I’d ever met. “I’ve had it with this place. I never wanted to play a princess, anyway. That’s what my parents wanted, why they mortgaged the farm to send me to Fairyland camp year after year. I only tried so hard because I thought I could get a break here with my music, so screw all of you!”

We watched as Adele went into the girls’ locker room and emerged with her pink Adidas bag over her shoulder, a white towel around her neck. Chin lifted high, she calmly left the gym, her sneakers padding softly down