Fine. that never happened. but a girl can dream, right?

This is how the story actually picks up….

Flashing cameras snapped Mal back to reality.

Like that, she was no longer leading all of Auradon Prep in a rotten-to-the-core victory march. Instead, Mal faced a mass of rowdy news reporters and camerapeople at a press conference. Her signature leather getup and long purple hair were no more. In fact, Mal looked every bit a prissy princess, like the very ones she used to mock when she lived on the Isle of the Lost, except that instead of pretty in pink, Mal’s lace dress was white, and her hair was ice blond and pinned up in a bun. There was a slight purple ombré to the tips—the only trace left of her villain roots.

“Mal!” the news reporters called out, shoving microphones in her face.

Mal remembered to breathe, and to smile. Be ladylike, she reminded herself.

“Only three days to the Royal Cotillion!” shouted a reporter.

“Ever think a girl like you would be lady of the court?” yelled another.

Mal turned from face to face, unsure of which to address first.

“How do you feel being the most envied girl in Auradon?”

“Do you like being a blonde?”

“Is your mother still a lizard?”

Mal opened her mouth. She was unable to formulate a single word.

“Okay! All right!” said Ben to the camera crew as he leaped to Mal’s side, looking dashing in his royal-blue suit. He held an ordinary apple with a bite taken out of it. “We will let you know if and when that particular situation changes,” he told reporters.

Mal felt momentarily relieved, but the reporters resumed shouting.

“King Ben, did you ever think you’d be with a Villain Kid?”

“We’re done here,” Ben said to the crowd, doing his best to ignore the ruckus. He faced Mal and smiled kindly.

Fairy Godmother tottered through the rose garden and stepped between Mal and Ben and the frenzied crowd. Her hair was up in a loose bun, and she wore pearl earrings and a lavender dress with a big pink bow at the neck, as always. She addressed the raucous mass. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Shoosh, shoosh, shoosh, shoosh, shoosh.” She motioned for silence with her hands. “This is still a school. So if you’re here, you’re either skipping or trespassing! Either way, I need you to—”

People began to spout remarks.

“Shhh! Shhh! Shhhhhh!” said Fairy Godmother, gesturing again for silence. Once the crowd finally quieted, she smiled. “Shhh!” she added with a merry little laugh.

The news reporters began to disperse.

For good measure, Fairy Godmother said, “Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! Shoo.”

Before long, almost the whole crowd had receded to the edge of the lawn.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you,” called Fairy Godmother.

“Thank you, guys!” said Ben with a wave.

“Thank you!” said Mal—and she meant it.

“Mal. Ben,” said Fairy Godmother with a nod of acknowledgement.

“Fairy Godmother,” replied Mal and Ben in unison.

Fairy Godmother’s work was done. She turned and scampered off.

Mal looked at Ben. “Hi,” she said, letting out a flustered laugh.

Ben beamed a comforting smile. “Just ignore them,” he said of the throng of reporters, who were now milling at a safe distance with their cameras at their sides.

“That’s a lot easier said than done.” Mal gave him a slight smile.

Ben pulled Mal close to him. “I know, I know. Maybe we should go out….We should—” He glanced at his golden watch. “Oh my God. I am so late for a council meeting!” He looked into Mal’s green eyes and winced. “I have got to go!” he said.

“That’s okay.” Mal had nothing but understanding in her voice.

“We’ll finish this, though, okay?” said Ben sincerely.

“Yeah,” said Mal, nodding. In a way, she was strangely relieved.

More time to rest, she thought. Keeping up this act is exhausting.

Evie ran up behind Mal. Stylish as always, she wore a blue dress with a gold collar and belt. Her long blue hair was down in loose waves, held in place by a delicate gold headband encrusted with red gems. Evie grabbed Mal’s arm and spun her around. Mal cried out in surprise.

“If we don’t do a fitting for your gown right this minute, you’ll be dancing in your bathrobe,” Evie told Mal. “Bye, Ben,” she added as she deftly dragged Mal away.

There goes my nap. Mal turned back to Ben and mouthed, Bye, Ben.

In a flash, the news reporters swarmed Ben with microphones and cameras aimed like swords. “King Ben! King Ben! Just one question about the cotillion—”

Ben glanced at his watch again. “I’ve really got to go.” He speed-walked away.

The noisy news reporters followed right behind him.