Two
The rosiness had returned to Jess’s cheeks, and her mood seemed much improved when I found her sitting cross-legged on the grass laughing with a curly-headed kid in a Life Is Good T-shirt and a hipster black guy with perfectly coiffed dreads; a white short-sleeve, oxford-cloth shirt buttoned right up to the throat; skinny jeans; and ironic, if expensive, Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, color red.
“How’d it go?” she asked as I came over with my fruit and coffee. I was dying to replay my conversation with Ian, including his zinger of a parting line, but this was not the place, unfortunately, so all I could do was raise my brows—our signal to talk later.
“Zoe, this is Karl,” she said, gesturing to the curly-headed kid. “He’s from Maine, and he’s exhausted because he had to get up at two a.m. to catch a flight here from Boston.”
Karl was laid flat on the ground, eyes closed to the sun. “I’d get up to introduce myself, but I’d probably just pass out.”
His voice was a strangely high falsetto.
“Don’t bother,” I said, plunking myself next to him. “Been there.”
“And this here is RJ.” Jess patted the arm of the hipster. “It’s his second summer at Fairyland, since he was an intern the year before. Now he’s an RA in the boys’ dorm and going to Columbia in the fall.”
“Don’t forget the Fairyland Executive Training Program,” Karl murmured.
Jess said, “Oh, yeah. RJ’s in the Fairyland Executive Training Program because he was such an awesome intern the year before.”
RJ leaned over and extended his hand. “Ask me anything. I’m here to help.”
It was all I could do not to loosen that top button. How could he wear a collar that tight?
“He’s Mr. Fairyland,” mumbled Karl, who seemed to be half asleep. “He picked me up at the airport, and by the end of the drive I knew to avoid the Chef’s Surprise and where to chill in the park after-hours and that unless I was looking for a killer case of Lyme disease I shouldn’t go beyond the Haunted Forest. Oh, and that he’d better not catch me with a girl in my room after ten.”
With a nod RJ said, “Yes, I’m the one you’re gonna want to avoid when you’re sneaking out at four in the morning.”
A quick wit, I thought approvingly as I sipped my coffee.
“Seriously,” Jess said. “That’s one of the rules. No girls in the boys’ dorms past ten and vice versa.”
Karl yawned. “Quit talking about dorms. I couldn’t sleep one wink on my flight. All I want to do is take a nap. When are they going to give us our cast assignments?”
“I can tell you now, if you want,” RJ said, pulling out a slip of paper from his back pocket. “Obermann, Karl. You’re a Red Riding Hood wolf.”
Karl let out a moan. “A wolf costume. That’ll be so hot. And not in a good way.”
“Yeah, but it’s also cool,” RJ said. “Don’t you know? Kids go crazy for a predator in heels and a nightgown.”
Jess tried to read over his shoulder. “Do you have everyone’s assignments there?”
“Most of them.” He ran his finger down the list. “Except yours, Zoe. Next to your name, it says Character Yet to Be Determined.”
“Ooooh. That’s my favorite,” Jess teased. “Goldilocks and the Three Characters Yet to Be Determined.”
I said, “Shut up! You’re just jealous because you wanted to be a Character Yet to Be Determined, too.”
Jess cocked her head. “In a way, at our age, Zoe, we’re all characters waiting to be determined.”
“Don’t get philosophical on me, Swynkowski.” I bit into a slice of cantaloupe and turned to RJ. “What does it mean that I don’t have a part? Is that bad?”
“It means they hadn’t cast you by the time they were drawing up this list.”
Jess went, “Duh.”
“Now, let’s see. Swynkowski.” RJ squinted at the bottom of the paper. “Ah. Here it is.”
Jess slapped her hands over her ears. “Don’t tell me.”
“Red Riding Hood Number Two.”
Not even a #1. Bummer.
Jess slumped. “I told you it was bad when they didn’t put me in the Princess Tower.”
“Buck up. At least you’re not a generic elf,” I said, rubbing her back. “Anyway, who knows? You might end up loving it.”
RJ folded up his paper. “That’s a great character. What’s your problem?”
I knew Jess didn’t feel like going into it, so I said, “My cousin really wanted to be a princess . . . for a better chance to win the Dream and Do grant.”
The Dream & Do grant was the big perk of being a Fairyland summer intern. While high school summer cast members weren’t compensated with more than free room and board, at the end of the internship, two of us—a boy and a girl—who’d showed “exceptional Wow!™ spirit” would each receive twenty-five thousand dollars in cash, along with a chance to enter the Fairyland Executive Training Program at Fairyland’s parent corporation—Die Über Wunderbar—in Düsseldorf, Germany.
Jess and I didn’t talk much about the Dream & Do grant since, obviously, we couldn’t both win the big cash prize. Of course, being ever sweet, Jess insisted she wanted me to win, so I could pay off Mom’s lingering medical bills, but I knew she was counting on the money for college, and I couldn’t blame her.
NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, the first step in Jess’s dream to become an actor, didn’t come cheap, and financial aid was slim. Since the Swynkowskis were currently broke, Tisch would be totally out of the question without some cash to offset the student loans.
In my opinion, this was a no-brainer—Jess had to win this grant—though, she was right, being cast as Red Riding Hood didn’t help.
RJ nudged her with his elbow. “It doesn’t matter what role you get. It matters how you play it and if you show that Wow! spirit.”
Jess sighed. “I highly doubt that. Everyone knows the grants always go to the princes and princesses.”
“Maybe you’ll be the first to break the mold,” he said. “I was a summer intern last year, so I know what Management’s looking for: cast members who put their all into playing their parts because, to them, Fairyland is more than a place to work, it’s a family.”
Jess plucked a few blades of grass, thinking. “Well, I guess it’s not the worst part in the world to get. I could be a . . .”
“Watch it,” warned Karl, whom we’d assumed was asleep.
“. . . little pig,” Jess added. “Certainly I’d be thrilled to be a wolf. And Zoe, you always said I looked fabulous in red.” She batted her lashes.
“Better you than your bank balance.” Which I hoped wasn’t hitting too close to home, since Jess’s checking account had been overdrawn a lot lately.
Manic clapping on the part of Andy the Summer Cast Coordinator forced us to quit talking and pay attention. “We have a lot to do today, cast members, so let’s get started,” he announced. “Listen up, because this is important!”
After breakfast we were to divide into our character groups and then we were going to take a quick tour through the underground tunnels—or “funnels,” as he called them—that led from secret doors in various exhibits around the park down to Our World, where cast members hung out, ate, dressed, etcetera. After that we’d unpack, get settled, and start our official training.
“And now, some ground rules.” Andy put up a poster:
THE FAIRYLAND KINGDOM FIVE COMMANDMENTS
1) There is no such answer as “I don’t know” in the Fairyland Kingdom. If a guest asks you a question and you don’t know the answer—find it. Conversely, if a guest asks you, “When is the five o’clock parade?” respond politely.
2) Make a “no” moment into a “Wow!™” moment. Your job is to spread joy and glee for all to see! So if you spot a guest who’s not having fun, turn that frown upside down!
3) Pointing is ALWAYS done with two fingers and an open palm. Remember: Give a thumbs-up for Fairyland!
4) If a guest gives you trouble, fold your arms genie-style and security will come to your aid. Do not argue, threaten, challenge, or intimidate guests. Guests are RIGHT until proven otherwise. Remember: In Fairyland Kingdom THE GLASS SLIPPER ALWAYS FITS!
5) Finally, and most important, TO FAIRYLAND ALWAYS BE TRUE. Fairyland is your family away from home, so pitch in and help out. We’re all in this together!
Then he explained why princes and princesses needed to learn to look, act, talk, and—when it came to autographs—even write alike so kids wouldn’t figure out that, for example, the Cinderella greeting them in the park in the morning was different from the one waving good-bye at night.
“Think back to that awful day when you first realized the Santa Claus at the mall wasn’t the same as the Santa Claus on TV.” Andy shook his head as if this were a tragedy of epic proportions. “We don’t want that to happen 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.