Fifteen
After Dash left I went to Wardrobe to deliver my summons to Marcus, quite possibly the suckiest five minutes of my life.
I handed him the sparkling green envelope. “Look, before you open this, I want you to know that I’m going to do whatever I can to clear your name.”
Marcus had recently come from Makeup, so he looked nothing like his usual surfer-dude self. His blond hair had been hidden underneath a Prince Charming black hair helmet that magically transformed anyone who wore it into a living Ken doll, and his eyes were huge in scary eyeliner.
He slid his finger under the Queen’s seal and removed the letter, his blue eyes zigzagging from side to side. I watched in dread as the news sank in. “You mean, I’m being fired?”
“I don’t know.” Prosecuted, more like it. “You have to go see her.”
Then those baby blues turned cold. “This is about Jess last night, isn’t it?”
“No. Definitely not.” I crossed my chest. “The Queen doesn’t even know.”
“You told her, didn’t you?”
“Marcus, I said not a word. You have to trust me on this.” My heart started beating fast. I couldn’t stand it when people started hating on me for no reason. I don’t know, call me human.
Trish the stylist came down the hall, two pairs of glasses hanging around her neck. “Oh, Zoe. I’m so glad you’re here. I just got messaged from the front office about the change in casting and was trying to find you. We’ll need to take your measurements and do the necessary alterations to Adele’s costume, so you’ll be ready this afternoon to go on as Cinderella.”
Marcus glared. He might have had the IQ of earwax, but he was smart enough to figure out that I was moving up, and he and Adele were moving down.
“Oh, I get how it is. You rat on your cousin and me and—wham!—you get bumped up to Cinderella.” He crumpled the summons into a ball. “You know, I was worried about you telling the Queen, but Jess said you were chill. Wait until she hears about this.” He tossed the summons ball onto the floor and brushed past me, rudely bumping his shoulder against mine.
That was so unfair. “You’re wrong, Blaisdel. Dead wrong!” I shouted, though it was too late. Marcus was in the elevator, arms folded. He flipped me the bird, and then the doors closed.
I knew I would never see him again.
“This is going well,” I said to no one in particular, and went to find Adele.
As I trotted through the maze of the Our World hallways, I tried not to imagine how pissed Jess would be when she learned about Marcus getting fired. Or how disappointed she’d be when he falsely accused me of selling out or what would happen when word got around Our World that I was made Cinderella after I snitched on my own best friend and cousin.
I decided then that you could not pit a bunch of ambitious, talented, extremely theatrical rising high school seniors against one another with twenty-five thousand dollars at stake and not expect blood to be shed. Many of us were going to fall. Maybe even me. Maybe even Jess.
I found Adele in the gym, working out with the rest of the second-shift princesses—Miranda, the redheaded Rapunzel; Laura, the raven-haired Snow White; and Valerie, the brunette Sleeping Beauty and Dash’s possible girlfriend.
This day just kept getting better and better.
Miranda, Laura, and Valerie were blessed with the perfect sort of symmetrical bone structure that made geneticists clap their petri dishes in glee. Miranda had sparkling green eyes and delicate features that called to mind well-bred, long-haired dachshunds. Laura’s jet-black hair and alabaster-white skin fulfilled every goth boy’s dream. But Valerie, with her exotic looks, was in a different category altogether.
On the opposite end of the spectrum was blond Adele, good ol’ Adele, who was huffing and puffing on the cross trainer in her pink spandex, desperately trying to lose the weight that had already stamped her DOA. Watching her try so hard and remembering how she’d been sobbing in the bathroom made me wish the Queen had read the Hansel’s complaint and put me on the bus back to Bridgewater first thing in the morning. Anything but this.
“Excuse me, Adele,” I whispered, trying to be discreet. “Could I speak to you alone?”
Laura and Valerie, who were lifting weights, exchanged knowing glances in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, but Adele just kept on chugging. She took a swig of water, wiped sweat off her forehead, and refused to make eye contact. “I’ve got fifteen more minutes. Can it wait?”
I didn’t want to display the summons in all its sparkling Fairyland glory, not with Laura and Valerie hanging on my every word. However, I couldn’t keep the Queen waiting a second longer. “Actually it’s kind of important.” Getting on tiptoe, I put my lips to her ear, “I have something from the Queen.”
Adele said, “Yeah. I guessed, seeing as how you’re her weasel assistant.” Still, she wouldn’t get off.
By now Miranda was on the case, too, the three other princesses shooting worried glances at Adele, who was upping the awkward by being so stubborn. Left with no other choice, I pulled out the summons and said, “The Queen wants me to be sure that you read this.” When she showed no indication of taking it, I slipped it onto the little shelf where you’re supposed to put magazines or your iPod.
“No, thanks.” Adele flicked it off. Just like that. It went pffft across the room, hitting a treadmill and falling to the floor.
This was like babysitting Jaden Conroy, who used to dump his milk on the table intentionally. Patiently I picked up the letter right as my iPhone sang “Every Breath You Take” . . . in the pocket of my gown.
My boss’s pinched face filled the tiny screen. “Where’s Adele? Marcus has already come and gone. The second shift starts at two, and she’s not here.”
Adele kept pumping.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said, taking the phone into the hall. “She won’t read the summons.”
“She won’t, eh?” The Queen’s crimson lips pursed. “Then put her on. Now.”
Oh, god. Please let this be over. I made another trip to the gym, where Adele had taken the cross trainer to its maximum level, her face beet red and glistening with perspiration. “The Queen wants to talk to you.” I held up the phone.
Adele snatched it, breathing perhaps more heavily than was necessary, and put it on the book ledge. “I can’t read the letter now. I’m on the cross trainer.”
“Well, stop that and come here immediately. I need to speak with you.”
“No can do. I need to lose seven pounds by Monday, remember?”
“Not necessary. You’re a Class B Ordinary Cast Member, mostly like a Fairy Godmother now. Guests expect you to be plump.”
I winced.
Adele pressed the Pause button on the machine as her face fell and her eyes began to well with tears. “But you said—”
“I gave you three weeks, Adele. Four, if you count what Andy told you the first day. You are now three sizes larger than Simone. Do you know what they’re calling you around the palace? Cinderblock!”
I gasped, and so did the princesses. Valerie mumbled something in French that sounded like le witch while Miranda said to Laura, “That’s not right.” Laura made a fist and pounded it into the palm of her other hand. Tough one, that Snow White.
Adele said nothing. She kept her gaze straight ahead, focused on the poster that showed you how to take your pulse. She was like a zombie. Standing, breathing, but not there.
“Do you understand?” the Queen demanded.
“Yes,” she answered robotically.
“Good. Then go upstairs, get your tiara, and turn it into Wardrobe. I’ve got just a few hours to suit Zoe up and train her to fill in for you.”
Adele swiveled her head in my direction, her bland eyes targeting mine with the kind of fierce hostility you find in rabid dogs or angry drivers on the Turnpike. Her resentment was so palpable, I could feel it on my skin, burning hot.
“It’s only temporary,” I squeaked.
She tossed me the phone. “I bet you’ve been jacking up my weight on your stupid chart.” She stepped off the cross trainer and put her icky, sweaty nose against mine. “You planned this, so you could take my place as Cinderella.”
“No! I’ve been knocking off ounces whenever I can.”
“Then you admit you’ve been tampering with my chart. I knew it.” She squirted water into her mouth and spit a stream into the wastebasket better than any jock I’d ever met. “I’ve had it with this place. I never wanted to play a princess, anyway. That’s what my parents wanted, why they mortgaged the farm to send me to Fairyland camp year after year. I only tried so hard because I thought I could get a break here with my music, so screw all of you!”
We watched as Adele went into the girls’ locker room and emerged with her pink Adidas bag over her shoulder, a white towel around her neck. Chin lifted high, she calmly left the gym, her sneakers padding softly down the hall.