“How have these recent events brought you two closer together?” Brenda asked.
I couldn’t help it. I snorted.
Gina slipped her arm around me. “I don’t think it has brought us closer, but I hope eventually it will. I didn’t handle things right. This is all news to Floressa, just like it’s news to the king. I was trying to protect her, and in the process, I hurt her. I hope this country and the viewers will forgive me for my shortcomings, and support Floressa during this difficult time.”
“What a sacrifice that must have been, to expose your heart like that,” Brenda said.
A tear slipped down Gina’s cheek. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not, but the cameraman was sure eating it up.
“Floressa!” Brenda said brightly, making it evident that this was now the sunny portion of her interview. “What is it like finding out that you’re living every girl’s dream come true?”
“What dream would that be, Brenda? Because this feels more like a nightmare.”
“Right.” Brenda flinched. “What I mean is, you’re not only the daughter of a beloved Academy Award–winning actress, but…a princess!”
She said the word “princess” like it was exciting. Like this revelation was Floressa’s fairy-tale ending.
I tore my eyes away from the camera, looking at Brenda first, then Gina, then at the people behind the camera. The publicist pointed to her mouth, indicating that I should smile big. The cameraman zoomed in with the hope that I would show some “authentic” emotion so the viewers would feel empathy.
Empathy.
Empathy.
Yes! That’s it. With all the world staring at me, I finally figured out that my emotion, my magical emotion, was empathy. And although nothing outwardly magical happened (wouldn’t it be cool if I could cry magical tears and wash Brenda Waters away?), the buzzing feeling hit me like a wave.
When my nerves and emotions and thoughts were close to exploding, I was feeling magic.
Boom.
Those moments of tingling—home life or subbing life—were all connected.
Boom.
I understood where the buzzing came from.
Boom.
My magic tuned in when I truly put myself in someone else’s shoes, to the point that I could almost read their mind—no, read their heart. When I did that I became aware of exactly what they needed. My empathy served as an emotional, magical compass. And I clearly knew—KNEW—that Floressa wanted to move forward with her mom and build a relationship with her father away from the spotlight.
This interview could not go on.
Once again, I faced a decision that could very well cost me my job. I could see Meredith’s finger wagging at me already, but the consequences didn’t matter as much as this feeling. I had to do what was best for Floressa.
If Floressa ever wanted to get past her pain, she had to experience this drama for herself. And I had to go to the resort and bring her back so she could do that.
I stood up. “I can’t do this right now.”
Brenda, Gina, and the whole TV crew watched me in shock. I used their delayed reaction to my advantage and skated out of the living room, out the front door, and down the big winding driveway to the dense woods behind the house.
Once I hit dirt, I chucked off my skates and ran until I was far enough into the jungle that I wouldn’t be instantly spotted. I crouched down next to a gnarly tree and yanked out my manual, stopping for a second when I thought of Meredith. She wasn’t going to be happy when she found out I’d contacted Genevieve. I’d have to figure out a cover story for her later. Right now, I was dizzy with the need to help Floressa.
“Genevieve! Genevieve! I would like to summon Genevieve!”
Her assistant, Dominick, appeared on my screen. “Dominick, I need help.”
Dominick spoke. “Genevieve is unavailable at the moment. She is preparing for her birthday celebration. If you would like to leave a message—”
“No message! I’ve got a major royal scandal going on, I can’t get ahold of my agent, there is a TV crew looking for me, and…magic! I know all about my magic!”
“—then please do so at the beep.” Dominick smiled and I realized it was a recorded message, that he hadn’t heard a word I said. “Beep,” he added.
I hung up. There had to be some application on this manual that could help me. I scrolled through until I found a picture of a bubble. Emergency bubble.
EMERGENCY BUBBLE APPLICATION
Agents typically send emergency bubbles when subs must retreat quickly. There are rare occasions, however, when a sub must remove herself from a situation. At such times, the sub can summon an emergency bubble to take her to the agency or next destination for help. This is not a feature to be used lightly, as emergency bubbles are difficult to navigate, and although the Law of Duplicity can be employed, some timing issues involving the princess’s absence may arise. If the sub still finds her circumstance to be dire, an emergency bubble can be summoned by clicking HERE.
I clicked on the here and a form came up, asking me why I needed the bubble, how long I would need it, what my insurance information was, what bubble navigational system I preferred—
Someone, someone close, called Floressa’s name. I rushed through the information, and within seconds of hitting submit, I heard a sputtering in the tree bark. It oozed sap, and from that sap, a bubble gargled out, which grew into a clunky orb.
There wasn’t a permeable wall like in Meredith’s bubble. I had to twist open the creaky hatch and let myself in. And just in time. The voices were near when I shut the door, safe with the invisibility provided by MP.
The bubble was all knobs and dials, like a single-engine plane. Well, maybe it was like a single-engine plane—not that I’d ever been in one. What I did know was that I had no clue how to steer the thing. I jiggled a few of the knobs, but nothing happened.
I opened drawers, looking for some manual. Manual. Duh. I clicked around FAQ until I found the HOW TO FLY an EMERGENCY BUBBLE section.
Which was about a hundred pages long. The thing was a textbook that would require weeks to get through. I had, like, minutes.
I hit my head on the dash. I was stuck. Stuck living someone else’s life for them. I would NEVER get to be in that play now. I’d never even turn fourteen. Or see my family or friends or sit around in pajamas without worrying about my picture being taken.
I forced away my own problems and focused on the mess Floressa was in. I brushed angrily at my tears. Becoming a princess always solved the problems in fairy tales, it didn’t create them! What was going to happen to Floressa now?
“This isn’t fair to Floressa!” Through my tears, I hit the dash and started to scream, “Fly, you stupid thing! WHY DON’T YOU FLY?”
The bubble rose in the air, dipping up and down. “It’s flying,” I whispered to myself. “IT’S FLYING!” I jumped up and did a happy dance dorky enough that I prayed there wasn’t some sort of surveillance video watching me. I completed my gleeful shuffling and positioned myself in the pilot seat. The bubble’s steering wheel looked like one from an airplane, and I tipped it down. The bubble rose. Flight! I had made this happen.
Now I just needed to…go. “Uh, Bermuda Triangle? Façade Resort.”
The bubble shook, as if nodding in agreement, and flew up and forward. My sadness seeped away, though I was still jittery from my crying episode. Once the bubble steadied, I skimmed to the end of the instructions, checking that my transportation wasn’t actually possessed and steering me to the bowels of the earth. I read the very last line.
Of course, for experienced subs, there is always that Magical Option. Channel your MP and autopilot will take over, steering you where you want to go. Few have the skills to employ this, but if you do, sit back and enjoy the ride.
That Magical Option. I’d used it—used magic to do something besides look like a royal. The bubble worked as soon as I turned my thoughts to Floressa, felt empathy for her. My magic worked if I wa
s using it on someone’s behalf.
I leaned back in my chair. This was the first manual mention, albeit vague, of a sub’s ability to employ magic beyond Royal Rouge. Did I need Rouge and my magical emotions to employ the magic? Or was the Rouge not necessary? I’d experienced the same feeling when I’d helped Celeste, after all. If this was the case, Genevieve really had lied. Good thing she didn’t answer my call.
I still didn’t understand why Façade kept magical information from subs, why they were hiding the magic under their top hat. I mulled this over for most of the long bubble ride—no warp speed with this clunker. The bubble hit turbulence thirty minutes or so in, the radar indicating entrance into the Bermuda Triangle. I held on to the bottom of my seat when the bubble began its descent. My ride may have been on autopilot, but did it have auto-land?
It did. Really junky auto-land. The bubble bumped and skidded a few times, nearly crashing before it stopped. I cracked my licorice-twisted neck. Another thing to check in the manual—disability insurance. The hatch resisted my first few pushes, but finally groaned open.
We’d landed, all right. Right on the most beautiful beach I had ever seen in my life. And I had seen it before—as a much more scaled-down version. Scaled down, like, to model size.
Chapter
21
Sometime during the landing, the Rouge wore off, switching me back to my Titania costume. Part of me wanted to lie down and enjoy the tropical setting, especially after my panic attack, but I knew being around my client while I was subbing for her had to be messing up some sort of time rules. I picked my way up a dirt path that twisted into dense palm trees. Hidden behind those was the resort.
The model didn’t do it justice. It’s not like it was a monstrous resort—the size was much closer to the Holiday Inn Express we had in Sproutville. But this was a royal hideaway, and so the luxury meter was at full throttle.
Elegant and comfortable, the island-themed lobby incorporated all the natural beauty of the outside landscaping into the sleek design. It looked like the hotel could serve hundreds, but no one was there. Even the front desk was empty. I rang the crystal-encrusted bell, and a man poked his head out. He smiled, and wow—he looked like a young Will Smith.
“Can I help you?” He emerged from the back room and stood behind the desk. I couldn’t answer at first because his resemblance was more than a similarity. He was Will Smith, Will Smith early in his career. Maybe…maybe it was his son? But why would his son work at Façade Resort? The guy probably heard about the uncanny resemblance all the time and got sick of it. I decided to play it cool and not bring it up.
“Um, yeah. I’m looking for a guest.”
“We don’t release the whereabouts of our guests. Company privacy policy.”
I rested on the counter and lowered my voice. “Look…what’s your name?”
“Will.”
“Of course it is. Will, I’m on a top secret Level Two mission. I would tell you more, but you don’t have clearance to hear it. I flew in via emergency bubble and I’m in a time crunch. Can you please tell me where Floressa Chase is so I can finish saving her life?”
Will glanced around the empty lobby. “Are you her sub?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to have to check that out. Let me pull up the file and I’ll ask you some questions.”
Will tapped for a minute on his keyboard and glanced up at me. “Name?”
“Desi Bascomb.”
“Age? Birth date?”
“Thirteen. Well, fourteen on December tenth.”
“What is your greatest fear, Desi?”
I blinked. “They don’t have that in the computer.”
“I would think any employee, especially a Level Two, would realize that Façade knows everything.”
“Fine. Um…being invisible. And big dogs.”
Will asked me a few more personal questions, and I tried not to squirm. Floressa owed me huge for my efforts. Like throw-in-your-yacht huge.
Finally, Will punched one more key and offered the charming smile that had made him famous. I mean, the celebrity famous.
“I can’t tell you the room, but I can tell you she’s by the pool bar.”
“Great.” I grabbed a mint from the bowl on the counter. “I’ll go find her.”
“Desi?”
I turned back around. “Huh?”
He pointed at a door to the left of the front desk. “Don’t forget your makeup before you go out there. You shouldn’t even be walking around without it.”
I looked down at my fairy costume. New clothes I could use, but makeup? I already had on the thick stage stuff, and besides, who cared about makeup when both Floressa Chases were here, meaning NO ONE was next to that old tree on the island.
I pushed open the door and nearly choked on my mint. The room was a mini-version of the Glamourification Studio’s makeup display, divided into two sections: the regular makeup, and a much larger selection of the Old Hollywood line. I saw newer names—like Meryl Streep Base Powder and Sandra Bullock Blush, but also a whole area filled with old starlets. Some of the slots were empty, like Marilyn Monroe, Doris Day, Grace Kelly…Maybe those were popular. I uncorked a Julie Andrews Poppy Red and rubbed it on my lips. The lipstick tingled like this expensive collagen plumping stuff my mom uses. There were no mirrors anywhere on display. Weird, but really, what wasn’t weird here?
I fumbled through my purse for my Rouge compact. The mirror inside was dirty, so I wiped it on my costume. I held it up to see my lips and almost screamed.
Looking back at me was not Desi Bascomb, or even Floressa Chase. I had transformed into Julie Andrews. Julie Andrews as she looked in the movie Mary Poppins, complete with bun, hat, and gray suit.
Will poked his head in. “Oh, good. You’ve transformed. Nice umbrella, by the way.”
By my side, sure enough, was my umbrella. Maybe if I opened it up, I could fly away to Normalville. I looked up at Will, and that’s when things clicked. “This makeup makes everyone…” I paused. I was now speaking in an eloquent British accent. “Makes everyone at the resort look and sound like the name on the bottle.”
“Well, usually. One time there was a mix-up when I put on some Lon Chaney for Halloween—you know, he was the original Phantom of the Opera in a silent movie—and I ended up looking like Jim Carrey from The Mask. But still. Cool costume.”
For an agency that prided itself on privacy, it made perfect sense. Multiple royals would be here at the same time. To avoid revealing which royals had subs, the agency made all the royals look like someone else. The fact that they looked like celebrities was probably loads of fun for them—escaping and playing pretend. Don’t a lot of celebrities use fake names when they check into hotels anyway? Façade took it further. Much, much further.
Of all the ways to use magic, this was where Façade focused its energy. Some poor girls got their magic ripped away if they didn’t “measure up,” while royals got to play dress-up. It wasn’t right. As soon as I cleaned up Floressa’s mess, Meredith and I were going to have a serious talk.
I spread my hand along the rows of empty slots. “So all the empty ones are being used.”
“We restock them once the guest checks out. The ladies get catty if someone steals their look.”
My eyes were drawn to the Marilyn Monroe slot. So Floressa. “Thanks. I think I know who I’m looking for now.”
Will stepped out of the doorway so I could pass. “Hey, Mary?”
I kept walking.
“Mary Poppins…er, Julie Andrews.”
“What?”
“You forgot your umbrella.” He held it out for me, a goofy smile on his face. I grabbed it and beelined to the pool, the wool suit already making me sweat. Dang, why hadn’t I picked someone else? Annette Funicello, star of sixties beach movies, would at least have a bathing suit on.
Floressa, a.k.a. Marilyn, was sunning by the pool in her signature fifties-style white bathing suit. I dragged a chair over and plopped down
next to her. She lowered her sunglasses and smiled.
“Have I been a bad girl?” she asked in Marilyn’s sweet, high voice. “Do I need a nanny?”
I shoved the umbrella onto the seat next to me and leaned forward on my knees. “I feel like I am your nanny, actually, Floressa.”
“Hey, I’m in disguise. You’re not supposed to know that.”
“I’m your sub. And I’m here to take you home.”
Floressa sat up on her elbows. “If you’re my sub, then who is being me?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job.”
“I didn’t sign up to do it for life.”
“You shouldn’t be complaining.” Floressa stretched. “Most girls would love to be me.”
The sun was beating down hard. I took off my coat and loosened my bun. “That’s true. Because you have a great life, Floressa. One you should go back to and live for yourself.”
Floressa tore off her sunglasses and stared me down. “Just what do I have to get back to, exactly? The humiliation of knowing there’s a father who doesn’t want me?”
“I know it’s tough. But what about the mother who loves you?”
She shrugged. “If she loved me, she would have told me about my dad.”
“She did. She just did it late. Look, she planned this whole trip for you. And she is going to get all sorts of bad publicity for letting this info leak. She risked a lot for you. You’re not the only one hurting, here. Besides, your dad has only had one day to digest this information. Maybe he’ll come around.”
“So…” Floressa tapped her finger to her plump lips. “You’re saying if I go back, I’ll still have a chance to be his daughter. To be royal?”
“You are royal. It’s in your blood. That’s why you were able to use this agency.”
“Hmmmm…I always wanted to be a princess. I thought I would have to marry Barrett to get that.”
“And there’s Barrett! He’s waiting for you with his brother, Karl.”
The Royal Treatment Page 17