How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,77

just plain stupid.

“It’s not like you don’t need the money, too, you know,” he’d said when we’d managed to steal a minute alone. “What about your mom’s leftover medical bills and your college tuition?”

I knew what really had him worried: that because I hadn’t won the Dream & Do, I wouldn’t join him here next summer to corral a new herd of interns, and I thought that was really sweet.

“Got it covered,” I’d said, slipping my arms around his neck and pressing his nose to mine. “Since Jess doesn’t know how all this works, she doesn’t expect to come back. It’ll be you and me next June, Ian, so be good until then.”

He’d grinned. “But it’s so much more fun being bad.” And then he’d kissed me in a way that was absolutely wicked.

That’s what I was thinking about—kissing Ian and how great next summer would be—as the Queen presented the twenty-five-thousand-dollar checks and awards. Afterward she gave a speech praising Ian’s upbeat attitude, his excellence as Puss ’n Boots, his willingness to help “a certain prince” learn how to ride horses on his off-hours, his stellar performance as Prince Charming, and, finally, “going above and beyond” to insure that Sage Adams signed on as the Fairyland spokesman—which was a little white lie, since Sage had already signed, but whatever.

Turning to Jess, the Queen applauded the “indomitable Wow! spirit” Jess displayed in her gripping portrayal of Red Riding Hood and, later, as Cinderella, a role she embraced with “unprecedented enthusiasm,” working both the morning breakfasts and tuck-in services at the resort, always cheerfully and willingly, never a complaint.

“Last,” the Queen said, zeroing in on me, “there is an unsung heroine here who gave of herself so willingly that she insisted I not publicly afford her credit. This girl requires no Dream and Do grant, because she is already a doer who, I am certain, is fully capable of making all her dreams come true.”

Well, maybe not all my dreams, I thought, smiling to Ian, who was smiling back. But most. Which was fine, since I’d learned that getting most of what you wish for in life is often just as good as getting it all.

Excerpt from Sarah Strohmeyer’s

SMART GIRLS GET WHAT THEY WANT

I’ve decided Halloween when you’re sixteen pretty much epitomizes the concept of adolescent purgatory.

On the one hand, the kid in you can’t believe the days of harassing neighbors for sugar loot have swiftly come to an end. And yet, the prospect of beating aside four-year-olds for the last Giant Pixy Stix on the block seems somehow wrong.

For years, Neerja, Bea, and I have managed to deal with this moral dilemma by getting together to watch The Blair Witch Project, which is good for a laugh because inevitably Bea, hopped up on a mega-mix bag of Tootsie Rolls and Starbursts, will yell, “Follow the river. Follow the river, you idiots. Seriously, just how stupid are you?”

I’d so miss that this year.

This year, because Halloween fell on a Saturday, the day before her brother’s birthday, Bea’s parents were taking her and George out to dinner at Legal Sea Foods. I’m sure this is exactly how Bea’s brother wants to celebrate the big two-oh, by listening to his father bicker with a waitress over the price of oysters instead of going with his friends to a Halloween party on campus. But, when you’re Harry Honeycutt’s kid, you tend not to disagree.

Neerja, meanwhile, was stuck babysitting The Things while her parents, attired in matching clown suits, attempted to cheer up/frighten to death Dr. Padwami’s elderly patients. After that, the whole Padwami clan was off to a party of doctors—which left me to celebrate Halloween alone, with Marmie.

Anyway, with nothing much to do, I was updating my status on Facebook from “in a relationship with Petunia Dubois” to “it’s complicated,” when Mike’s chat screen appeared at the bottom of my page.

Mike: U going to Ava’s party?

I thought, Ava’s having a party and she didn’t invite me?

Me: Nope

Mike: Aren’t u 2 friends?

Me: Guess not

Mike: U can come w/us

Right. Just what I wanted, to tag behind Mike and his equally tall and beautiful girlfriend, Sienna, as the slightly irregular but intelligent third wheel? Um, pass. Though it was thoughtful of him to ask, I’d give him that.

Me: Thanks, but I have plans

Mike: OK. Bye!

I logged off and lay on my bed, staring at my ceiling as I fought an existential crisis.

See, this is the problem with Facebook. If I hadn’t gone on, I would have