How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,41
the hall.
Sixteen
Andy met me in Wardrobe, pacing anxiously while Trish did what she could to transform me, 5′10″ Zoe Kiefer, into a delicate princess, practically sewing me into Adele’s blue-and-white gown and stuffing my size-ten feet into clear plastic slippers. Once that ordeal was over, Helga the cosmetologist plunked me into a chair, yanked my hair into a super-tight ponytail, and proceeded to tweeze my eyebrows into tiny lines that, illogically, she then darkened with pencil.
“Stay still. Don’t talk,” she ordered.
Which was hard, because Andy was grilling me about the basics of Princess 101. Did I know how to wave? Did I know how to smile like a princess, to clasp my hands just so, as if I were a child who’d been surprised with a stack of birthday presents? Had I ever waltzed? Done the box step?
“I have one hour to teach you what took years of summer camp to teach Adele. You’d better be up to the task.” Andy stroked his chin nervously as Helga pressed color into my lips. “She doesn’t even come close to Simone.”
“I’m doing what I can,” she grumbled, applying blush with a big brush. “It’s not like you’ve given me much to work with here.”
Thanks. Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, people. “Yeah, I think I know how to wave.”
Helga pinched my mouth shut. “No talking! Close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes.
Andy continued. “There’s the dance with Prince Charming. It’s more complicated than it looks.”
I tried to recall what the dance was like. Lots of turning and waving, bowing and curtsying. Square-dancing with two royal squares.
“Open,” Helga barked. I opened my eyes to the sight of her wielding what appeared to be a living centipede pinched between her fingers.
I let out a scream. “What is that?”
“Eyelashes. Now look up.” I looked up as she pasted the sticky lashes to my lids. “Look down.” I looked down.
Just when I thought this process couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, they produced a heavy yellow-blond wig and two humongous fake diamond earrings that pulled down my earlobes like boulders. I slid off the chair, teetering under the weight of multiple petticoats. Trish stuffed my hands into tight white gloves. Helga fixed my lip gloss. At last, all three of my tormentors stepped back for the assessment.
“Walk!” Andy commanded.
So I walked.
He slapped his forehead. “No, no, no. Not like you’re a construction worker just off from the job. Daintily, like a princess. Show some of that Wow! spirit.”
My toes were killing me. I went up on them slightly, grimaced in pain, and pranced, Wow!™-like.
“That’s better. Now twirl.” He rotated his wrist. I twirled. I twirled so fast that, as I had in the Queen’s office, I fell against the chair, and Trish had to come to my rescue.
“Enough, Andy,” she said. “Take her into training.”
Training was one big room with lots of mirrors and, playing on an eternal loop, the Fairyland theme song, to which I was taught the so-called Fairyland Family Dance. (Think the Hokey Pokey only with more twirling and kissing.)
Hands up! Twirl to the left, twirl to the left. Kiss! Kiss! (Bottoms out!) Wave. Wave. Hands up! Twirl to the right, twirl to the right. Andy bow. Zoe curtsy. Air kiss. Air kiss. (Bottoms out!) Wave. Wave. Twirl to the left . . . and so on.
Practice over, Andy sufficiently exasperated, there was only one more detail that needed to be addressed: my tiara. Adele was supposed to drop it off, but she was nowhere to be found, and we were ready to go. Already the morning crew was returning from the park hot, sweaty, and tired in a well-coordinated choreography through secret doors. I was to switch with Simone at the top of Cinderella’s staircase at four sharp. I couldn’t do that, though, without my crown.
Dash passed me in the hall wearing his navy Prince Charming uniform. He stopped to give me a hug. “I took care of everything, Zoe. You’re in the clear,” he whispered. Then he jogged to catch up with the other princes.
That could have only meant that he’d snagged the Hansel’s report about me. Unless Dash just wanted to give me a hug, which would have been fine, too. You know, I’m not one to complain.
I headed down the hall and found Jess and RJ chatting by the water fountain. He had one hand on the wall and was leaning into her while Jess was twirling her Red Riding Hood blond braid and playing coquette. I guess her