Twenty-four
“I stopped by your room last night hoping we could talk and maybe you could show me that you really had the shirt swatch,” he said. “I sat outside your door for an hour. Where were you?”
“Gee, Mom, no need to wait up,” I said, heading toward the elevators. “By the way, you being in the girls’ dorm after ten is a violation of the Fairyland rules, you know. Number six, to be exact. That would seriously harm your chances of winning the Dream and Do were the Queen to find out.”
A couple of furries passed on their way to get into position for the park opening in about ten minutes. Dash, exasperated by my insouciance, almost ran his fingers through his newly sprayed princely hairdo and caught himself from messing it up in the nick of time.
“I don’t know where all this hostility is coming from,” he said earnestly. “I’m being honest about what happened so I can save Marcus’s rep. I’m trying to do the stand-up thing here.”
“Except you’re not.” I eyed him levelly, curious as to whether he’d flinch. “It’s not your shirt. You weren’t the one who saved me from the quicksand. You and I never met in the Forbidden Zone, ever.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re trying to set me up.” Don’t back down, Zoe.
“How could you say that?” He shook his head, confused, as if no one had ever accused him of something so hurtful and I, being a sucker for boys on the verge of tears, almost bought it until I remembered that Dash Merrill had spent summers at acting camps and probably school years on the stage as well. His pleading frown, those puppy-dog eyes, were nothing but the product of lots of training. I even wondered if the heartbreaking story about his father laying on the guilt had been bogus, too.
“Okay, if I wasn’t the guy you saw in the Forbidden Zone, then who was?” Dash had smoothly shifted into playing the part of righteous prosecutor.
It just so happened that Ian chose that moment to come down the hall with two other princes on their way to the stables. Seeing me, he lit up with that winning grin of his, and I couldn’t resist going all tingly. On any other guy, that Prince Charming costume was dork galore, but on him it was seriously sexy.
“Hey, Zoe. You look awesome, but what’s with the dress? Not working today?” He turned to Dash and did that guy-grunt thing, nodding his chin. “Hey.”
Dash nodded back. “Hey.”
Ian said, “What’s up?”
“Just talking.” Dash backed off, the chicken.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re just talking. Seems like something’s going on. You okay, Zoe?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course. It’s nothing.” Though I could tell that Ian suspected Dash was again trying to force me to come clean to the Queen.
Dash slid his gaze from Ian to me and back to Ian again, gauging our reaction, adding two and two. The first buzzer buzzed, the cue for everyone to get in their places. Ian and Dash would have to run, since the stables were a good mile of hallway off.
“See ya later?” Ian asked, finding my hand.
I closed my eyes. Don’t. Dash will use it against us!
It was too late. Ian cupped my face and kissed me in front of everyone, including Dash. When we broke apart, Dash was giving an evil smile, a threat that said: I’m gonna make sure you two get yourselves so disqualified.
There was nothing I could do about Dash, and Dash couldn’t do anything about us, not as long as he was in the park playing Prince Charming to Valerie’s Sleeping Beauty. So I shoved my worries aside and got on with life.
After the first-shift cast members left for the park, I took the elevator in Our World to the basement, which was two levels below ground, damp, and cold. I’d been to the file room only once before, to fetch a box of purchase orders, but I’d never been in the vault, where the really important papers were kept. And, being slightly claustrophobic, I’d never had any burning desire to go there, either.
The door to the vault looked like your average supply closet, which I opened with my master key. Inside, however, a combination lock hidden behind a false thermostat opened a steel door. After I unlocked that, I flicked on a light switch and sighed. Floor-to-ceiling metal shelves crammed with boxes, five of which, at eye level, were marked PUD:1,001.
I started with box number one and flipped through each page, keeping an eye out for what the Queen described as a progress report from our parent company, Die Über Wunderbar, on official corporate stationery marked July 25.
It actually didn’t take as long as I’d feared. The memo was right on top. I gave it a quick read to make sure I’d found the right one.
As far as I was able to glean, PUD:1,001 stood for the proposed 1,001 Nights Theme Park & Adventure Land, a huge Fairyland expansion plan aimed at attracting “mature teenagers and young adults” with “thrill-a-minute” rides that were sure to “brand” Fairyland Kingdom as a destination spot for theme-park enthusiasts worldwide.
I definitely wasn’t supposed to be reading this, but I couldn’t stop. I mean, a theme park based on The Arabian Nights? It was brilliant! I especially loved the names of the “anchor” attractions and their ridiculous, hyperbolic characterizations.
SINBAD’S SEVEN DEADLY SEAS: 1 boat. 30 seats. 100 Terrorizing Waves. As close to experiencing the perfect storm without heading into the open ocean. Through the magic of modern technology, guests face imminent peril, as for 6 terrifying minutes the boat lists in both directions, submerges, and finally capsizes. (*Not suitable for those with heart conditions, nervous disorders, epilepsy, or weak stomachs. Guests must be age 16 or older.)
ALI BABA’S 40 THIEVES: Think Prince of Persia was challenging? Try fighting 40 armed thieves in a closed-door cave for real. At stake, all the gold you can handle . . . and your life. (*Not suitable for those with heart conditions, nervous disorders, epilepsy, or weak stomachs. Guests must 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. “Quit kidding around. I don’t have time for this.” I tried slipping my hand over his shoulder to press the button, but he grabbed my wrist and held it tightly.
“Here’s the truth, Zoe: I didn’t come back to Fairyland this summer to work my way up the corporate ladder. When I was an intern last year, I got wind that they were planning to expand into the Pinelands, and I decided I would do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.”
He let go, and I had to shake my arm to stop it from tingling. Was he messing with me? RJ was Mr. Fairyland, the star former intern who knew the rules and lectured me to learn them, too. This couldn’t be for real.
“I won’t go into all the environmental degradation they’ll inflict with this expansion, but trust me when I tell you the damage will be permanent and severe. Rare forms of amphibians, birdlife, and reptiles like the spike-nosed hornbeam turtle will lose their nesting grounds. I was outraged, and you should be, too.”
“I’m sure I will be outraged,” I said. “Right now, I need to—”
“Give me the report.”
Please, this was getting ridiculous. “Are we done now?”
“The Mouse is the only one that can stop the project,” he said. “Fairyland’s their closest competition, and, for the most part, a pretty wimpy one. But it will move heaven and earth to make sure Fairyland doesn’t expand.”
We exchanged stares, and I saw this wasn’t a prank. RJ was being totally straight. He really was outraged by the 1,001 project, and he really wanted the plans that were currently burning a hole in my bag.
Every breath you take . . .
I shuddered and snatched my phone.
“Where are you, Zoe? This is embarrassing.” The Queen was beyond peeved.
“Coming!” I slid the phone to Off. “RJ, I’ve got to—”
He took the phone out of my hand and started inputting numbers. “Here,” he said, handing it back to me. “This is the number to my secret cell phone. If you change your mind, call me, and I’ll take care of everything.”
I gaped at what he’d done. “I can’t believe you just did that. Do you know what will happen if the Queen sees this? She’ll stroke out.” I tried deleting it but couldn’t. RJ must have locked it somehow.
“The Queen is not your friend, Zoe.”
“Uh-huh.” I started riffling through my bag looking for a hairbrush or lip gloss. If RJ wasn’t going to let me pass, then at least I could make myself presentable until he did. “The Queen might not be my friend, but she’s treated me just fine. Look, as a favor to me, she made Jess a princess!”
RJ chuckled knowingly. “As if that matters. To the Queen, Jess is a joke, and so are you—except that you’re a joke who does her bidding, which is why she keeps you on. When you’re gone she laughs behind your back at how she can make you do anything she wants with just the snap of her fingers.”
I slapped my hands over my ears, wishing he would quit saying all these nasty things. The Queen was a tough customer, sure, but deep down I liked to believe she had a good soul.
“She wants you to think that you’re in the running for the Dream and Do, but that’s a lie,” RJ continued. “She knew from the get-go who was going to win. . . .”
I quit brushing. “Dash and Valerie?”
He nodded. “Dash and Valerie have been bred for Fairyland corporate since they were children. They’re out for themselves, and they don’t give a damn about who they have to step on to get ahead. Not like you, Zoe. You look out for Jess, and Jess loves you. It’s touching, your relationship. That’s why you two don’t stand a chance. You guys are too soft.”
It can’t be true, I thought, so unnerved that I was getting a headache. I didn’t even hear my phone blaring “Every Breath You Take” over and over again until RJ plucked it out of my hand and put it on mute.
“Look, as soon as I have that report, I’ll call the Mouse, and within an hour a limo will arrive to whisk you away from here. You and Jess will be compensated with double the Dream and Do money so that Jess can go to college and you can pay off your mom’s medical bills. In the process you’ll have saved a precious part of the Pinelands for generations of wildlife to come, while sending a message to Fairyland and the Queen that they can take their corporate mind games and shove ’em.”
He handed me back the phone. It felt cold and hard and, suddenly, powerful.
“It’s the right thing to do,” RJ said softly. “And you, Zoe Kiefer, are the right person to do it.”