with our young guests. Ever. We want them to leave convinced that all their favorite fairy-tale characters really do live happily ever after in Fairyland. And that this is the only place they call home.”
A dig, I assumed, at the Mouse who ruled over the “other theme park.”
The rest of the rules could be found in the handbook. There were 270, according to Andy, and it was in our best interest to memorize them all.
With orientation over, it was the moment we’d all been waiting for: casting. Andy read through the list starting with the least desirable characters: the animals—aka furries, like Karl—and working his way up the Fairyland pecking order. Jess and a girl named Alice were the two Red Riding Hoods. Ian was the only Puss ’n Boots, which was a surprise, since I’d pegged him for a prince.
When they got to royalty, I started to panic, since I knew I couldn’t be one of the “Fab Four”—Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel, or Sleeping Beauty—and that my friendship with Jess would be forever ruined if I were. And yet what else could I be?
I watched Dash take his place as a Prince Charming for Sleeping Beauty, and finally the Cinderellas were named—Simone and Adele, two blondes who, in my opinion, were not nearly as pretty as Jess.
And that was it. Apparently my character was still being determined.
“Okay, people, grab your packets,” Andy was saying.
I raised my hand. “Um. You didn’t call me.”
“Zoe Kiefer, right?” Andy brought out an iPad and began typing rapidly. “Oh my. It says here you’ve been designated as the lady-in-waiting.”
Was that even a legit character? I turned to Jess, who had no clue. “What’s a lady-in-waiting do?”
“Only everything.” Andy pulled out a radio and said something about me going to see the Queen. “Didn’t you receive the memo in your email?”
“What memo?” I hadn’t been sent anything besides a stack of waivers promising not to drink or take drugs or “publicly disclose, disseminate, or disperse” details about the internship, whatever the heck that meant.
Beads of perspiration sprang from Andy’s forehead. “Okay, okay. We can deal.” He put his hands on my shoulders and physically rotated me toward the Princess Palace. “Just go see her now in her office. She’s waiting.” He rattled off reminders as he escorted me down the sparkling fairy path. “It’s best not to sit unless she tells you to. Or speak until spoken to. And when she does speak, address her as ma’am.”
“Ma’am,” I repeated, totally baffled by this entity called the Queen. Surely he couldn’t have meant Snow White’s evil stepmother, who dressed in purple robes and whom everyone booed in the daily parade.
“Her dog is Tinker Bell.” He closed his eyes prayerfully. “Tinker Bell is her pride and joy. We all love Tinker Bell.”
I made a mental note.
“You might think your job in the parade is to toss candy, but really it’s to guard Her Majesty from tossed apples that are thrown by”—he made a face—“ingrates who don’t know any better. Remember, don’t duck, catch.”
“Don’t duck, catch. Got it.”
“And whatever you do, don’t mention the Mouse.”
We got to the drawbridge over the moat that ringed the gigantic, glittering, purple palace with its colorful flags against the brilliant blue sky. Andy pointed (two fingers, one thumb up) to the far turret, where supposedly the Queen sat in her office. My heart fluttered at the prospect of what lay ahead.
“Just tell the trolls I sent you, and you’ll be fine.”
Trolls. There were trolls?
“Good luck,” Andy said, with an encouraging pat. “The Queen chose you herself, which means she must have been struck by something in your application. All you have to do is what she says, on time and cheerfully, and never, ever, ever break the most important rule—to Fairyland always be true!”
“What does that even mean?” I asked, but it was too late. Andy had hurried off, and I was on my own.
Three
Trolls turned out to be shorthand for patrols, Fairyland’s in-house rent-a-cops, who perused the park in dark-green jumpsuits and snappy caps on the lookout for lost kids, dropped gum wrappers, and, I suppose, the occasional Mouse Mole (spies who worked for the Mouse). Not for nothing was Fairyland rated #1 in Safe Theme Parks, though after the hassle the trolls gave me at the elevator to the Queen’s office, it seemed they might have had a leeeetle too much power in their white-gloved hands.
I took the elevator to the fourth floor. It opened to a stark white hallway