How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,64
be age 16 or older.)
ALADDIN’S MAGIC CARPET RIDE: Guaranteed to impress even the most die-hard roller-coaster enthusiasts, Aladdin’s Magic Carpet Ride will circumnavigate the 1,001 Park with its 4,000-foot track thrilling guests with two 90-degree plunges and 20-foot-tall drops while reaching speeds in excess of 75 miles per hour. This alone will put the 1,001 NIGHTS THEME PARK & ADVENTURE LAND in the Guinness Book of World Records. (*Not suitable for those with heart conditions, nervous disorders, epilepsy, or weak stomachs. Guests must be age 16 or older.)
SCHEHERAZADE’S FINAL TWIST: Prepare to scream for mercy as a hydraulic launch sends you hurling at 90 miles per hour through a corkscrew coaster. While the ride lasts only 60 seconds, it will seem like an eternity with four 360-degree rotations. (*Not suitable for those with heart conditions, nervous disorders, epilepsy, or weak stomachs. Guests must be age 16 or older.)
That was only the beginning. In addition a holographic genie would emerge from a magic lamp if rubbed, and a new Ali’s Palace, “grander and more ornate than any palace in Fairyland Kingdom’s history,” would situate the new park in a “Mecca of Persian magnificence” surrounded by open market stalls selling rugs, fabrics, silks, home furnishings, and jewelry “heretofore found only in such exotic realms as Morocco for Morocco market prices.”
Final architectural and development plans were in the drafting stages, though “confidential inquiries for permitting” had begun. There was a lot of incredibly dull stuff about environmental impacts on the surrounding Pinelands—this, apparently, had been holding up the works—and how that could be avoided by designating other undeveloped Fairyland properties as permanent wetlands and/or nature preserves.
I quickly glanced at a map and was surprised to see how much of the Pinelands Fairyland had owned: thousands of acres, before the woods were designated as a National Reserve. From my rough assessment, the theme park would go right where Ian and I had spent the night, at the old gristmill—which was too bad, as that place was awesome.
I’d just finished reading the report when the Queen’s iPhone blared “Every Breath You Take.”
She sounded ebullient. “Joyous tidings, Zoe. Stop what you’re doing, wash your hands, brush your teeth, regloss your lips, and meet us at the ground floor of the Princess Palace with your best face forward. Our brunch was supremely productive.”
I asked her what she ate, but she ignored me. Food for her was always beside the point.
“Suffice to say, we are this close from forging an agreement. Mr. Adams has essentially uttered a verbal contract, and his lawyers are reviewing the final paperwork as we speak. All we need to do is quickly show him the park in the interim and, after a quick jaunt through the Haunted Forest, the spokesmanship papers will be waiting for him to sign when he returns.”
Unreal. Somehow the Queen had managed the impossible—she had hooked Sage Adams, thereby saving her job and quite possibly the park.
“Congratulations!” I exclaimed. “Are foie gras and champagne in Tinker Bell’s future?”
“Tut, tut. Don’t jinx it. Just be here in two shakes of Bo Peep’s lamb’s tail. Mr. Adams and his, um, manager, do not wish to be kept waiting.”
Who does? I wondered as I locked the vault and exited the file room, closing it securely behind me. Then I ran down the hall toward the elevator, where, for some reason, RJ was standing reading a book.
“You got a minute?” he asked, tucking the book under his arm.
I didn’t. If this was about Jess and him, his love life would have to take a number. “Sorry, RJ,” I said, slipping the Die Über Wunderbar progress report into my bag. “The Queen needs me upstairs right away.”
“No, she doesn’t.” He moved in front of the buttons so I couldn’t reach them.
“RJ,” I tried, trying to push him aside, anxious to get going. “This is serious.”
“So is this.” He was steadfast, like a slab of granite, and unsmiling. It was as though the laid-back, all-knowing, wise RJ—who’d advised us to avoid Chef’s Surprise and had stuck out his neck for me by leaning on a former lady-in-waiting for tips on how to please the Queen—was gone. In his place was a guy I didn’t recognize.
“When you mentioned that the Queen had sent you down here to go through the PUD:1,001 files, I knew I’d found the solution. Zoe, you need to give me that progress report so I can show it to the Mouse.”
I was not in the mood for pranks. The Queen needed me.