The Royal Treatment

by Lindsey Leavitt

  “I’m not going to get sub sanitized then?” I shuddered at the idea. Sub sanitizing involved having a sub’s entire experience washed from memory.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Sometimes the Rouge schedule is off—that’s not your fault.”

  I slumped into the chair opposite Meredith. The way we transitioned in and out of these jobs was risky. It would have been awful to make it through all the rest of the night’s craziness, only to change back into Desi and blow Millie’s cover. “Then why are you…interrogating me?”

  “I’d like you to explain this.” Meredith held out a silver business card. Printed in red ink on very thick paper were the words, Please call Genevieve.

  I took the card and flipped to the back. There was a symbol of an Egyptian beetle and nothing else. “No contact information. Haven’t you guys thought of cell phones?”

  “That calling cards gives you permission to call upon her if you need to. With this card, all you have to do is say her name out loud and she’ll contact you. She didn’t give me one until I was an agent. So I’d like to know what went down at Dorshire Hall that would make her bestow one on a spanking-new Level Two.”

  “Noth…nothing. We talked about magic. The history…general stuff.”

  “Well, it couldn’t have been too general. She’s taken an interest in you. She wants you to report back if you have any magical occurrences. Did you have anything magical happen on this last job?”

  “No.” Dancing with Gavin was anything but magical. “I tried, actually, but nothing came. I used common sense and Millie’s princess profile. Same stuff I did as a Level One, except everything went more by the book.”

  “Humph.” Meredith sat down on the couch and rubbed her temples. “So we’re clear here, you didn’t say anything about me to Genevieve. Anything that could hurt my chances at this promotion. Anything…personal.”

  I widened my eyes. The anger and suspicion all made sense now. She thought I’d snitched about her prince. “Meredith. Of course not. I would never say anything bad about you. We did talk about your hair. And Genevieve said you were a hardworking sub.”

  “Good.” Meredith shot me another murderous look. “Because if you ever did—”

  “I’m not Lilith.”

  Meredith blew out a breath. “You’re right. You’re not.” She paused. “Well, you have that card. Be careful with it. This agency…You don’t have to tell them everything. You never know how the information, or even your talents, might be used. So think before you speak. Understood?”

  “But I have nothing to hide.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Meredith pushed her chair back. “Well! You should probably change before you get back to your play auditions. Your clothes and gift basket are by the couch. Take out what you need, and I’ll drop the rest off in your bedroom on my way out of town.”

  “All right,” I said slowly. The only thing that scared me more than Meredith being feisty was Meredith faking nice. After she closed her office door, I changed back into my jeans, ditching the Shakespeare T-shirt for one of my new tops—robin’s egg blue with ruffles down the neckline. Most important, it was a lightweight fabric that would save me from further sweating disasters.

  Because of the Law of Duplicity, I’d only left the high school theater bathroom a second before, so it was still empty when I exited the bubble. It always took me a moment to realize where I was, what time it was. Who I was. Desi. Back to Desi, who was still in the middle of auditions.

  Auditions. Stress! Still…better than a Gavin chat. Kissing Lilith’s feet would be better than a Gavin chat.

  I splashed cold water on my face, patted it dry with a scratchy paper towel, and thought of the luxurious hand towels waiting for me in my basket. And the calling card in my back pocket. I pulled it out and rubbed my fingers over the embossed lettering. Would I ever use it? What would happen when I called Genevieve? Did she only want to know if I felt magic at work, or at home too? And why did Genevieve give it to me of all people?

  The bathroom door swung open, and I shoved the card into my back pocket.

  Kylee grinned when she saw me. “What’s taking you so long?”

  Just had to use the bathroom. Oh, and hop over to Paris.

  Exciting things are always more exciting when you can talk about them, not lock them away. I swallowed back the urge to tell Kylee everything. “Um…just easing my nerves.”

  “I saw Reed!” Kylee said. “He did such an amazing job. He’s like…who’s that New Zealand actor? The tall one? That’s going to bug me. Anyway, I sat two rows back from him and almost got up the nerve to say hi, which I’m going to count as a win.…Hey. Where did you get that shirt?”

  Whoops. I was so glad to be free of the sweat trap, I didn’t even think about a costume change explanation, especially to someone as observant as Kylee. I tugged on the hem.

  “I brought an extra. My SHAKESPEARE ROCKETH shirt was so tight, it got all sweaty. Besides”—my laugh rang out high and false—“it’s the theater! Costume changes are part of the deal.”

  “I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

  “It’s new.”

  “It’s cute. Where did you get it?”

  “My mom bought it for me.”

  Kylee came closer and checked the back tag. “Desi, it’s by Floressa Chase. That shirt had to cost over a hundred dollars.”

  “Really?” I fingered the fabric. “My mom probably got it on sale.”

  Kylee shook her head. “Anyway, they’re about to call people to do to partner readings. You ready?”

  I pushed my hair away from my face and smoothed out my shirt. It’s amazing what a quick stint as a princess can do for your acting confidence.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Kylee and I linked arms and walked into the theater.

  I stayed up that night, worrying about Genevieve’s calling card, picturing the look on Meredith’s face when she said to be careful. Be careful of what?

  And I had other questions to consider. Was I in trouble? Did Genevieve trust me? Was Façade reconsidering my advancement? They had to be pleased with my performance. Aside from the messy bubble exit, I’d done everything Millie asked. And my other clients were happy—I saw firsthand how well I’d positively impacted Elsa’s life. And the customer is always right. Right?

  It was past midnight when I finally fell asleep.

  By four the next afternoon, I’d swigged three Mountain Dews to give me the energy to face the cast list being posted any minute in the high school cafeteria. I took a seat away from the cliques and stared at the mural of the school mascot, the Spud (which was a large potato. Yes, the other teams always threatened to mash us. At least we weren’t the Boise Beets). After five minutes of examining the Spudster, I got out the new BEST list Meredith had sent that morning.

  The tasks read more like a celebrity-assistant checklist than a mastery of royal skills. I could check through them in weeks, rather than the months it initially took me to prepare for Millie:

  Acting

  Celebrity gossip

  Familiarity with the fashion industry, including relevant designers and their point of view

  Fashion design and basic sewing skills

  Yachting

  This princess was going to be awesome, but the list still had its challenges. Yachting? How do you practice yachting in Sproutville? And I designed my own T-shirts, but I didn’t follow the latest trends. Plus, I could hardly sew on a button.

  My gaze returned to the Spud as I strategized ways I could fit BEST into my schoolwork. My view was soon blocked, however, by Celeste and Hayden. I gave them a polite, why-are-you-standing-here smile.

  Hayden pulled out a seat and sat at my table. “Hey, Daisy.”

  “You don’t need to sit by her.” Celeste rolled her eyes. “We’re already on the edge of dorkdom as eighth graders here, no need to go completely geek.”

  “Sorry, babe.” Hayden stood. “Can we hurry, though? I have practice at five.”


  “I said I have to ask her something.”

  “Hi,” I finally said. “I’m guessing I’m ‘her,’ right? So I’m sitting right here in case you want to have a conversation with me instead of about me.”

  “Oh.” Celeste flipped her hair. “Your mom was supposed to give me a ride home, but I’m going to Hayden’s practice instead. But tell her we’re still on for my fitting next week. And we have to turn in our head shots for the pageant Web site.”

  “Sure. I love being your messenger girl.”

  Either my sarcasm was lost on Celeste or she chose to ignore it, because I went right back to being invisible. “Now that that’s over with, I need some candy.”

  Hayden nuzzled her neck. “I can give you some sugar.”

  It took every ounce of self-control not to gag. Luckily, a girl walked into the cafeteria with a piece of white paper in hand, which she stuck on the announcement board. Celeste forgot my invisibility and looked at me, wide-eyed. “Do you think that’s—”

  I shot out of my chair. “The cast list.”

  We rushed over to the glowing white paper. Celeste pushed her way through the crowd. “Peaseblossom! A fairy! I’m one of the main fairies! OMG, I’m going to look so fabulous.”

  Hayden snatched her to the side and proceeded to give her a victory kiss. Great. There were probably two parts actually going to eighth graders, and of course Celeste got one of them. Now she would have to squeeze rehearsals in between all her time bonding with my mother and practicing her pageant wave. I shrank back from the crowd, waiting for a turn.

  Someone tapped my shoulder and whispered, “Did you see your name yet?”

  I glanced back at Reed, who wore a confident smile and a vintage plaid shirt. “I’m too nervous.”

  “Do you need some muscle?”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re dying to know. So am I.” Reed tugged on my arm and led me through the mob. I bit a hangnail as he scanned down the female sheet.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “I’m not on there, am I? Now I’m going to have to listen to Celeste go on about her fairy-ness—”

  “Oh, no. You’re on there. It’s too bad for that Celeste girl. She’s going to have some serious jealousy issues.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Look at the top.” Reed gave my arm a playful squeeze. “You’re Titania. The Queen of the Fairies.”

  My stomach dropped down into my intestines, where it proceeded to do a dance and twist itself around all my other organs until my entire body was one inner-dancing bounty of glee. I breathed deeply, trying to control the frenzy of emotions that were overtaking me. It wasn’t like the buzzing I’d felt during auditions. No, this was a Moment. A real-life, nothing to do with subbing or Celeste or anyone but me Moment.

  I got one of the girl leads. As an eighth grader.

  Seriously, aside from the whole job-as-a-substitute-princess thing, this was the biggest news in my life. Weren’t fairies usually petite like Celeste? I hope the boys weren’t short. Boys. I hadn’t even scanned those yet. Celeste was already in front of the list.

  “I’ll talk to someone.” She turned to Hayden and made a pouty face. “You have to get a part! I’ll be so lonely without you.”

  Hayden could barely keep from smiling with relief. “I know, it’s a bummer, but I have soccer and stuff.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. I caught a bit of their conversation as they walked toward the cafeteria doors. “I just want to be with you all the time.”

  “Me too, babe. But you’re going to be hot as a fairy.”

  “I know, right?”

  They were so perfect for each other. It was almost embarrassing to think I had ever had a crush on that guy. Or been friends with Celeste. I felt like an entirely different person now. One who was STARRING IN A PLAY!

  I stood there, in that cafeteria, until the crowd left and the noise quieted. When only a few stragglers remained, I got the courage to look at the cast list again. It was still there. Desi Bascomb. Titania, Fairy Queen.

  I touched my name on the white paper.

  Reed leaned against the wall, a smile playing on his lips. “Making sure it’s real?”

  “You do you see my name up there, right? It’s not my wish turning into some alternative reality.”

  “You’re a queen. Almost as good as an ass.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The ass. Donkey. Nick Bottom. The comic relief of the play.”

  “You’re Bottom?”

  “Yes. He’s the one who wanders into the forest and gets a donkey head halfway through, but you still like me, which is sweet. Kind of hurts that it’s all because of the love potion, but you’re married, so it’s probably for the best.”

  “I know what happens in Midsummer. It’s just…you’re…you’re Bottom?”

  “Hee-haw.” He tapped the sheet of paper, right by his name. “Gotta get going. See you at rehearsal.”

  What Reed didn’t say was that Titania and Bottom had a kissing scene. And true, in a play with mixed identities and affections, there is bound to be kissing. But I hadn’t even considered the possibility of Reed and me kissing. Again and again. It wasn’t anything like the dunk tank incident—this was conscious, live, in-front-of-everyone (including my best friend) kissing.

  Shakespeare was suddenly a lot more interesting.

  Chapter

  10

  I didn’t tell Kylee about the kissing part. She would read way too much into it, just like when Reed gave me CPR. I knew a stage kiss meant nothing. Besides, I was going to hook them up, and once that happened, any Shakespearean lip-business wasn’t going to matter.

  The hookup was going to take some effort, though, because Kylee got stage fright—make that Reed fright—at the thought of talking to him. We waited in the back row of the theater on the first day of rehearsal so Kylee could accidentally on purpose run into him. She paced the aisle, her expression determined, like when she was playing a difficult piece on her clarinet.

  “So we’ll see him,” Kylee said. “You’ll say hi and remind him who I am. Then I’ll say…”

  “Hi,” I said. “Or hello. You can improvise that part.”

  “Don’t make fun of me! I like to have everything planned out when I’m nervous.”

  “You talked to him the very first time we met,” I said.

  “And then we didn’t see him all summer, which has given me plenty of time to build up our next encounter.” Kylee stopped pacing and bit at a nail.

  “The word encounter makes me think of alien abductions.”

  “Aha!” She pumped her fist in the air. “You’ve ditched the old movies and entered my world of scary. Next up, swamp creatures.”

  “No. Never. And Kylee, be like this around him. You’re funny.”

  Kylee and I jumped when the doors opened. Two junior girls brushed past us. Kylee fanned herself. “Is it possible to have a stroke when you’re thirteen?”

  The doors opened again, and this time it was Reed. I pinched the back of Kylee’s arm and whispered, “Talk.”

  “Hey, girls.” He swung an arm around our shoulders like we were all old friends, like Kylee wasn’t about to pass out.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi, er…hello,” Kylee said.

  “You ready for the most boring day of your life?” Reed asked.

  I looked up at Reed, which I appreciated. There weren’t that many guys tall enough for me to actually look up to. “Why do you say that?”

  “First day is full read-through.” Reed dropped his arms and hooked his fingers under the straps of his backpack. “Sometimes they’re fun, but with it being Shakespeare, it’ll be auditory sleeping pills.”

  Kylee snorted, then covered her nose.

  “You know that other eighth grader, Celeste?” I asked. “Well, my mom is her pageant coach, and I’ve sat through some of their training sessions. Nothing more boring than that.”

  Kylee n
odded, but again, said nothing.

  “Come!” Mrs. Olman was standing center stage, her arms outstretched. “Actors! Let us convene!”

  Reed grimaced. “Longest day ever. I promise.”

  “Well, we better get up there.” I nudged Kylee again. “Have fun teaching band, Kylee. Did I mention Kylee helps teach high school band? She’s super talented.”

  “I think you did mention that. Sounds cool.”

  “Yeah. So…um…see you guys.” Kylee paused. “Stay awake.”

  Reed laughed. “Later, Kylee.”

  Kylee stepped back like his farewell had hit her with physical force. When Reed ran up the steps of the stage, I turned to Kylee. “The stay-awake line was funny. But you need to talk more.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. He’s, like, a good-looking guy Medusa: I just freeze up when I see him.”

  Mrs. Olman clapped her hands. “Actors!”

  “Thanks for helping.” Kylee trudged out of the theater.

  Well, I tried. I couldn’t stick Royal Rouge on and talk for the girl. I lumbered onto the stage and took a seat next to Reed. I thought I was ready for the rehearsal—I’d steered clear of the Mountain Dew, and I was wearing a tank top to avoid sweat problems—but nothing could have prepared me for an hour and a half straight of Shakespeare’s English. It didn’t matter that this was the shortened version of the play—half the cast fell asleep, and it became an unspoken rule that we would elbow one another before our parts. Mrs. Olman kept reminding us to enunciate the words and feel, FEEL! the character’s soul, but even she left to get some coffee during the fourth act.

  Reed and I had two scenes together—in the first, Titania falls in love with Bottom, thanks to a love potion. As Mrs. Olman said, the more I acted in love, the funnier the scene would be.

  “What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?”

  Reed scooted to the edge of his seat. He cleared his throat and delivered his line. Perfectly. Like everything he did.

  “Uh…” I scrolled through the words and delivered my next line.

  He leaned in, and I could smell his cologne—sporty mixed with something else. The ocean? “You might want to project a bit more,” he whispered.