How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,50

fresh vegetables. The Xbox 360 and feather-free pillows seemed easy enough, but the fair-trade 80 percent dark chocolate and peanut butter made from nongenetically altered peanuts had me stumped. This was New Jersey. Everything here was genetically altered.

“The thing is, ma’am,” I began, uncertain of how to turn down her offer to escort Sage. “I’m probably not the best person to be handling Mr. Adams and his manager. I don’t mean to seem rude, but I’m just not a fan.”

“Which is why you are ideal.” She hand-fed a piece of mozzarella from her Insalata Caprese to Tink. “Somewhere on that list you’ll see that Mr. Adams specifically requested an escort of a nonfawning nature. Also you two do have something in common.” She arched her eyebrow. “A deep and abiding nostalgia for Storytown. He’s curious to see its remains.”

That threw me for a loop.

I was surprised that a big star like Sage cared about Fairyland’s precursor, too. Maybe he wasn’t so commercial and awful after all.

I said, “I thought Storytown was long gone.”

“Not entirely, though according to our engineers it is sinking fast into the soft New Jersey sand.” She sipped her tea. “You haven’t seen it, Zoe, because in the interest of protecting public safety, it’s been secured behind a wall, out of sight in the Forbidden Zone.”

Sinking! The wall! The Forbidden Zone! That must have been where I got trapped in the quicksand and was saved by Dash.

“And you want me to take him there?”

Her teacup slipped out of her hand, falling to the saucer with a clatter. “Heaven forbid! Only if you wish to send me to an early grave!” She whipped out her white Chinese fan and started waving it to cool herself from the shock of my suggestion. “Were Mr. Adams to see how Storytown has been allowed to slip—quite literally—into decay, there is no doubt he would reject our offer of spokesmanship. Such a blight on our property is, shall we say, déclassé.

“Indeed, your goal will be to avoid all talk of Storytown while buoying his impression of Fairyland, so that Storytown becomes nothing more than a footnote in his future poorly crafted, overhyped, ghostwritten autobiography.”

I sighed. There was no arguing with the Queen when she had made up her mind.

“Moreover, Mr. Adams will be here on business. To wit, he will not sign autographs or personally entertain the flirtations of various interns. Nor will you inform said interns that he will be, is now, or has been, on the premises. Do. You. Understand?”

I nodded.

“Speak!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sat back, somewhat mollified. “You should know, Zoe, that there are only ten candidates remaining for the Dream and Do grant, and they include you and the sweet, hardworking cousin who you admirably support and who has the Wow! spirit in abundance. It would be a tragedy if a mishap during Mr. Adams’s visit reduced that number to eight.”

I swallowed hard, my throat as dry and scratchy as sandpaper. “Yes, ma’am.” No pressure there!

Her computer dinged, and the Queen swiveled to check her email. “Oh, dear. This is not good. Not good at all.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked. Now that I thought of it, she had been looking paler than usual—if such a thing were possible.

She absently played with the ruby-scarab brooch on her dress. “It’s Adele, I’m afraid. We received information this morning that she didn’t fly home to Wisconsin as Personnel had arranged. According to this alert from Security, a survey of our cameras shows she hasn’t left the park.”

She was still here—waiting to get me.

“Where do you think she is?” I asked, trying not to act too nervous, though I was frantic.

“Not far. Perhaps hiding out in someone’s room or in the Forbidden Zone. Security, naturally, is fanning the area.” The Queen checked her email again. “It is one of the most dreadful crises to afflict a fairy-tale theme park, a Cinderella gone rogue. There’s no telling what kind of mayhem a scorned princess can wreak. No telling at all.”

Nineteen

I would have gone hunting for Adele myself if the Sage Adams Project, along with catering to the Queen and Tinker Bell plus playing Red Riding Hood, hadn’t kept me busy from dawn to midnight.

According to Sage’s bossy manager, Michelle, I was to arrange for a hybrid town car that would transport them from the Philadelphia airport to Fairyland. The town car was to be stocked with spring water in high-density polyethylene bottles, organic veggie chips, nonalcohol-based hand sanitizer, Trident White gum (flavor: peppermint), an iPad