by Mari Mancusi
“It was,” I agreed, looking down at my phone and scrolling through all the photos I’d taken over the course of the evening. My friends and me—fully princessed and pirated out—posing with the little kids. My heart squeezed at the happy looks on everyone’s faces. Not just the patients, either. My friends’ smiles were just as big as the kids’.
Which didn’t surprise me. After all, it had been an epic night.
I stopped at the last picture. Of little Avery and me doing our magic show. I felt my throat choke up a little as I looked down at Avery’s shining face. A far more precious photo, in my opinion, than any snapshot of me and Collin Prince could ever be.
We had done well—and we had done good. That was all that mattered in the end.
“Maybe we shouldn’t sell the dresses,” Kalani broke in suddenly, as if reading my mind. When we all turned to look at her, she shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s the harm in keeping them? For . . . special occasions or whatever. There’s got to be other hospitals who need princesses, right? Maybe that could become our new thing. In the summer, anyway, so it doesn’t interfere with school.”
Sarah nodded slowly. “That’d be cool,” she agreed. “I had so much fun last night. I kind of forgot we weren’t making any money.”
“It was way better than any amount of money,” I declared. “We got to use our princess powers for good. There’s nothing better than that.”
“Well, maybe one thing . . .” We looked up, surprised to see my stepmother walk into the room. She had a big smile on her face. “Oh good,” she said. “You’re all here.”
I cocked my head in question. “What’s up?” I asked.
“I just wanted to come by and thank you girls for doing such an amazing job last night,” she said. “The hospital e-mailed the St. Francis Group this morning to tell me how great you were—and how you made the night so magical for those little kids. Evidently, they haven’t stopped talking about you since.”
I grinned, my heart warming at her words. “It was fun,” I assured her. “We were happy to do it.”
“Anytime they want us to come back, we’re there,” added Sarah. She looked at us questioningly. “Right?”
We all nodded. “Right,” Kalani declared, smiling happily. “Anytime they need us.”
My stepmother raised an eyebrow. “Even if they can’t pay you?”
“We wouldn’t let them pay us,” Madison declared. “Even if they tried.”
“Well then,” my stepmother said, nodding thoughtfully, “I will definitely let them know that.” She smiled. “I’m proud of you girls. You did a good thing.” She paused, then added mysteriously, “And I think there’s someone else who wants to thank you as well.”
“What?” We looked at her, confused. What was she talking about?
We watched as she stepped over to the bed, grabbed the iPad and clicked it on, then propped it up on a pillow. A moment later, to our surprise, Collin Prince’s YouTube channel popped up on the screen.
“He has a new video,” she said. Then she laughed at our puzzled faces. “That’s what you girls do, right? You meet up to watch his new videos?”
“Yeah, but . . .” I was so confused. Since when did Nancy actually care about Collin Prince?
She didn’t reply. Just reached over and hit play. A moment later, Collin Prince sprang to life on the screen, and we all sighed in unison at the glimpse of his handsome face. Even though we’d probably never get the chance to meet him in real life, at least we’d never lose him online. That was something. In fact, it was a lot.
I tuned back in to the video.
“Hey, party people!” Collin was saying brightly, as was his usual opener. “How’s it hanging in real-life land?” He paused, waggling his eyebrows, and the video cut to the opening music sequence. We grinned at one another, feeling that familiar buzz of anticipation we got in our stomachs every time he did a new video.
But this time, when the video cut back to him, to our surprise his smile had faded and his face had taken on an ultraserious look. I glanced at my friends, puzzled. They shrugged in response.
I turned back to the screen.
“Listen up, guys. I know I joke around a lot on this channel,” Collin was saying. “But today I want to talk about something serious.” He paused, clearing his throat. “If you don’t want to hear it, feel free to click on one of my other videos below. May I suggest the one where I stick a pixie stick up my nose? That one’s classic, right?”
Then he got serious again. “Most of you don’t know this. It’s not something I talk about a lot on the show. But I have a little sister who’s very sick. She’s suffering from leukemia and has been in the hospital for most of the last year.” He sighed. “It’s been really hard on her. On all of us, actually—but mostly her. And for the last year, I haven’t seen my baby sister smile. Not even once.” He paused, then looked directly into the camera. “Until now.”
I stared at the video, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. I glanced up at my stepmother, but she only motioned for me to keep watching. As I turned back to the screen, the webcast cut from Collin’s face to a low-light, grainy video.
A video of me. And my friends. Dancing in the hospital playroom.
I watched, stunned, as the video played. Of the four of us, singing and dancing and, looking like crazy fools. Of Avery assisting me with my magic show, grinning from ear to ear. Then the video cut again, switching to a still photo of me and Avery. The very same photo I’d just been looking at on my own phone—now full screen on Collin Prince’s YouTube channel.
Oh. My. Gosh. OH MY GOSH.
“Hold on a second!” Madison cried, reaching out to stop the video. “Are you trying to tell me that little girl Avery is Collin Prince’s sister?” She turned to me accusingly. “Did you know about this?”
“I . . . had no idea!” I was barely able to speak I was so shocked. I looked back to my stepmother. “Did you?”
She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “I might have been made aware,” she confessed.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she’d be there,” she said. “And also, I didn’t want that to be the reason you decided to do the event. I wanted you to do it because you wanted to. Not because you’d get some reward.”
I nodded slowly. That made sense. But still!
“That said,” she added with a small smile, “I might have been the one to e-mail him the video he’s playing on his channel right now . . . along with a little letter, letting him know you guys were fans.” She smirked. “Not to mention that he still owed me that last math assignment he never turned in. Not that I’m holding my breath on that one.”
Sarah reached out and unpaused the video. The picture of Avery and me faded away, and the screen went back to Collin.
“Those princesses and pirates last night,” he said, his voice cracking, “they made my sister smile. For the first time since . . .” He trailed off, as if he was unable to speak. Then he swallowed hard. “My baby sister.” He shook his head, holding up his hand. “Hang on a second.”
The video jumped. He must have stopped the recording and started it again. When he came back to the screen, he wasn’t crying anymore. (Though meanwhile the rest of us were bawling like babies.)
“Girls,” he said. “I was told you watch my show. And if you’re watching now, listen up. As you probably know, in June I’ll be in Texas, appearing at the Comicpalooza convention.” He smiled. “And I would be honored to have you there as my special guests. I can provide tickets and transportation for you and your parents, along with two nights’ stay in a nearby hotel. You’ll also get VIP passes to come see my magic show. And after the show I’d like to invite you backstage so I can personally thank you for what you did for my sister.” He gave a big smile. “I know it’s not much. But I hope you will come.”
And with that the video stopped. We stared at the blank screen for a moment, in complete silence, as if al
l of us were trying to digest what we’d just heard. Then Kalani let out a small scream. We all joined her, leaping up onto my bed and jumping up and down, screeching and cheering at the top of our lungs.
My stepmother covered her ears with her hands and laughed. “Um, I take it you want to accept his offer?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
I shook my head. I couldn’t believe it. Evil stepmother? Try fairy godmother!
And just like that, we were going to Comicpalooza after all.
34
A FEW DAYS LATER I found myself walking into Brody’s house. Following him through the hall toward his father’s office. Now that I was back in business to go to Comicpalooza, I needed to finalize my writing project. I still wanted to enter the short story contest, after all, and I needed any help I could get.
“Hailey, this is my dad. Dad, this is Hailey.”
I stepped hesitantly into the room. Brody’s father rose from his seat, giving me a smile and reaching out to shake my hand, as if I were an actual adult. I looked around the room, a little in awe to see the tall bookcases filled with copies of his books. In addition to the American ones, it appeared there were translated copies from around the world. I tried to imagine my own office someday, with translated books. How cool would that be?
“Nice to meet you, Hailey. Brody has told me a lot about you.”
I felt my face heat at this. “Um, he’s told me a lot about you, too,” I blurted.
“Why don’t you have a seat? And Brody? Can you go get us some lemonade?”
“Sure.” Brody dashed out of the room. Once he was gone, his father turned to me.
“So,” he said. “I read your story. Both of them, actually.”
My heart beat wildly in my chest. “I am so sorry about that!” I cried. “The other one is just some silly thing I write with my friend. I didn’t mean to send it to you. I got the addresses mixed up and—”
“It was great.”
“Wait, what? You mean the other story.”
“That was a good story, too,” he said. “I could tell you spent a long time on it. Really trying to make it good.”
“Um, yes. I—”
“But the one you wrote with your friend? That one was great.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. “I don’t understand. That’s just . . . fan fiction. It’s not anything important or even—”
He held up a hand. “It’s fun. It’s compulsively readable. I couldn’t put it down.”
I sank back in my chair, utterly confused at this point. “But . . .”
“Look, when I read your short story, I could tell that you wanted very badly for people to love it,” he said. “But when I read your Collin Prince story? I could tell how much you loved it. There was this energy, this enthusiasm. The words seemed to just jump off the page.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I think that’s the one you ought to submit to the contest.”
“Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe it. After all the agonizing I’d done over the serious story, he was suggesting I submit the fan fiction? Sarah was going to completely flip out! “Can I even do that?”
“You’d have to do a little work on it,” he admitted. “Change the names to protect the innocent and all that. But in the end, this story isn’t actually about Collin Prince, the YouTube star, is it? It’s about a fictional character you created that you then named Collin Prince.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I mused. After all, while Collin had definitely been my inspiration from the start, the character in the actual story had long ago taken on a life of his own. I doubted Collin himself would recognize it if I changed the name. “So you really think I should submit this story to Comicpalooza?”
“Well, I have a few ideas and notes if you’re open to suggestion,” Brody’s father said. “Things that could make the story stronger. But yes, between the two stories, this is the one you should submit. It’s extremely engaging. And your true voice really comes out in the dialogue. That’s what editors are looking for. What people want to read.”
I nodded slowly, allowing his words to sink in. He was right, I realized. I loved the Collin Prince—or whatever it was we would call the character now—story. Way more than the story I wrote for the contest. So why did I think other people wouldn’t like it too?
“Thank you,” I said, rising to my feet. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
He handed me a stack of computer printouts, which he had marked up in red pen. “I worked on both stories,” he told me. “I didn’t want to force your hand. At the end of the day, you’re the author, Hailey. It’s up to you to decide which you’d like to submit.”
I took them from him, sucking in a breath. “Thank you,” I said, turning to leave, my knees still feeling a little wobbly as I headed toward the door. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”
“You’re a good writer, Hailey Smith,” Brody’s father called out to me as I left. “Keep it up and I’m sure I’ll be seeing your books on store shelves someday.”
I grinned. Now that would be a dream come true.
EPILOGUE
AND SO WE PRINCESSES WENT to the ball. Not in the costumes we had originally planned, but in our princess and pirate best. After all, that was what got us here in the first place. And we figured there was some kind of magic in that.
What can I say about Comicpalooza? It was massive. A little scary, too. Thousands of people wandering around in costume, taking in the sights. Tables filled with cool sci-fi/fantasy toys. There was tons of game-related stuff to buy, and I picked up a Fields of Fantasy T-shirt for Brody that I thought he would like. He was here somewhere too. With his dad. But we hadn’t seen him yet. Not surprising. This place was huge!
Oh, and I know you want to hear about meeting Collin Prince. It was pretty epic, to say the least. His show was amazing, and going backstage afterward made us feel like superstars. He hugged each of us and thanked us in turn and gave us each little homemade cardboard hearts his sister had made us from the hospital. It felt really good. And Kalani swore she would literally never wash her hands again. (A vow that lasted about ten minutes after a huge Klingon managed to bump into her and spill his Diet Coke. Ah well.)
But the real highlight of the convention? Having all my best friends with me on the final night as we sat in the audience of the writers’ track’s closing session where they would announce the winners of the young writers’ competition.
“I’m probably not going to win, you know,” I reminded them for the thousandth time as the crowd ushered in.
“Please,” Madison scoffed. “You’re a great writer, Hailey. If they don’t pick you, they have a serious problem.”
“Just don’t forget us little people when you’re rich and famous,” Kalani added with a grin.
I snorted. Before I could reply, my eyes caught sight of a man dressed in a suit and tie walking up to the podium. My pulse kicked up its pace as I watched him attempt to get the microphone into position before starting to speak.
“That’s my dad’s editor.”
I looked up to see that Brody had slipped into the row next to us. Sarah scooted over so he could sit next to me.
“Good luck,” he whispered. “I hope you win.”
I looked around at my friends. Then I looked at Brody and smiled. “Trust me,” I said. “No matter what happens with the contest, I already have.”
The man at the podium cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming this afternoon. I hope you have had a great show so far. And I appreciate everyone who participated in our little writers’ track. We love having you as part of our family each year.” He smiled. “And now, because I know you all have parties to go to, I will get to the point. The winners of the annual Comicpalooza writing competitions.” He looked down at his notes. “First up, the adult sci-fi fantasy category . . .”
He rambled off a name. People cheered. The winner got up and made a little speech. I tried to pay attention, but all the while my heart was beating furio
usly in my chest. The winner sat down and the editor came back, reading off the name of another adult category, and I realized I might die of anticipation before he got to the young writer award.
“I can’t stand it,” I whispered to Brody. He reached out and squeezed my hand with his own, then left it there, covering mine. Okay, now that was a suitable distraction. If it didn’t cause me to pass out altogether.
After what seemed an eternity, Brody’s dad’s editor got to the last category. “The winner of the young writers’ competition this year . . .” He grabbed the envelope and made a grand gesture of opening it as slowly as possible. I could barely breathe. Sarah and Madison and Kalani all reached over and gave me comforting squeezes.
This was it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. Or not waiting for. Oh man.
“Well, well. It seems we actually have two winners this year,” the man said, looking surprised. “A coauthor team.” He smiled. “Guess that means we’ll be sending two young authors to camp this summer!”
He gave a dramatic pause. It was all I could do not to puke on everyone in the audience. Finally he looked up.
“The winning story is . . . ‘The Prince’s Adventure,’ authored by Hailey Smith and Sarah Farmington.”
“Wait, what?” Sarah cried loudly, causing the entire audience to burst out laughing. She turned to me, confusion on her face. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh. Didn’t I mention?” I asked innocently, my heart soaring in my chest. “I decided to submit our story to the contest instead. It was way better than the other one.”
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!” she cried, looking as if she was going to pass out. “You did not! You so did not!”
I grinned. “I so did too. Now come on. Everyone’s waiting for us to get up there.” I grabbed her arm and led her to the stage. She staggered after me, still looking dazed. When we got to the podium, she put her hand over the mic and turned to me.