by Karole Cozzo
“Come hang out,” Rose says. “I’m not even heading down to the party till at least ten.”
So I extend my arm and tell them, “All right. Twist my arm. Go ahead, twist it.”
The two make a big show out of actually twisting my arm until it feels like taffy, and we’re a giggly bunch as we make our way back through town and back to our building.
As we walk down the hall, it occurs to me that I still haven’t met Naked Rapunzel’s replacement, and I ask about her. “Hey, do you think your new roommate’s going to be home?”
“She has to be back from training sooner or later,” Chrissi says, “but we all know those are long days.”
“She’s working out all right, though?”
“Oh yes.” Chrissi nods. “Harper’s a dee-light. I really adore her.” She’s quiet for a minute. “She has some family stuff going on, but she’s a sweetheart.”
Chrissi doesn’t elaborate. She’s good at keeping secrets like that.
Camila is at home, however, and I greet her when we step inside. “Hey, Camila.”
“Hi,” she says distractedly, glancing down at her laptop. She has on her glasses, her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and I notice she’s wearing a T-shirt that reads, HOME IS WHERE THE WIFI CONNECTS AUTOMATICALLY.
Seriously. It’s hard to believe she and Rose are twins. It’s hard to believe they’re sisters. It’s hard to believe they’re related in any way.
Here’s what Rose and Camila have in common. They are both stunningly beautiful—Vietnamese American, with long, silky black hair, delicate features, and slender figures.
Here’s what else they have in common: nothing. Rose wants to be a makeup artist for television and theater and attends cosmetology school. Camila finished college in two and a half years and has an assistantship for grad school at MIT awaiting her. She’s spending a year in between Yale and MIT playing princess somewhat against her will, at her sister’s insistence that she have an adventure before she turns into “the most stereotypical smart Asian girl ever.” Rose’s words.
At this point, Camila has been here for nine months but still seems immune to the Enchanted magic. She continues to act like playing princess is some form of cruel and unusual punishment. Needless to say … I don’t really get Camila.
But still I try. “Did you get your summer schedule yet?”
Schedules shift a bit around Memorial Day, when the daily crowds grow even huger during the summer season.
“Yes,” she answers tersely. “But, shocker of shockers, Rose is insisting on taking all the Rose Red shifts. I have protested vehemently that we are identical twins and it would be appropriate to switch things up from time to time. I don’t know why I always have to be the meek, pea-brained sister of the two.”
Rose throws her hands up. “Camila, work with me here. I am Rose. You are White. It makes sense, and it’s easier to stay in character than to keep switching back and forth. Messes up my vibe. And Snow White’s not pea brained! She’s just … thoughtful and less … fiery.”
“She’s boring and inane.”
“You think every princess is boring and inane.”
“Fair enough.” Camila shrugs. “I think I might have rather spent these last few months—thank you, God—as a fur character.”
Rose groans for a solid twenty seconds, and I jump in to change the subject.
“You should have come shopping with us, Camila. It was fun.”
Her mouth twists up wryly in response. “Lingerie shopping isn’t my idea of a group event.”
To be honest, I’m not sure what is Camila’s idea of a group event. She’s a textbook introvert.
“I think that’s something you do in private,” she says, making the mistake of continuing.
Rose can’t help herself and pokes her sister in the side. “Guess what? I know what you look like naked. I don’t know … I think it’s that whole identical twin thing.”
Camila inches away from her sister and straightens her T-shirt, and Rose rolls her eyes in my direction at her stiffness before heading to their room to put her purchases away.
While Chrissi grabs some snacks and turns to the channel for The Bachelorette, I text Jake to let him know he should head to the girls’ apartment rather than mine. Then we settle in on the couches, and within ten minutes of meeting the new bachelorette and this round of crazy-as-ever contestants, I know I’m in for the season.
I’m totally engrossed in the latest contestant introducing himself to this season’s star of the show, because I swear I recognize him as an older sorority sister’s ex, and I don’t even hear the door to the apartment open.
Then Chrissi squeals. “Oh yay, you’re back! Now we can introduce you to Alyssa.” Chrissi grabs my arm so that I turn around, and my eyes follow hers to the doorway. “This is Harper!” she exclaims, looking at me. “Isn’t she a perfect Beauty?”
Harper stands in the doorway, looking exhausted and sweaty, still clutching her huge purple-and-gold princess training manual.
I quickly assess the new girl. I know my Enchanted Princesses, from the shapes of their faces to their hairlines to their hidden birthmarks. Harper’s complexion isn’t spot on and her hair’s too straight for her to be considered a perfect Beauty, but she’s pretty enough and definitely has this … bookish air to her. And when she smiles over at me in greeting, I have to admit her smile is dazzling. She’ll do well in the park.
I get up and walk over to shake her hand. I wish it was a commercial break, but princesses remember their manners. “Hi, Harper. I’m Alyssa. Welcome to the Princess Posse.”
She shifts her binder to her left arm. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”
“We’re rivals, did you know that?” I fold my arms and wink at her.
Her face wrinkles in confusion. “What? I don’t…”
“Enchanted Dominion factoid: pictures with Cinderella and Beauty are the most highly sought.” I shrug. “Some girls actually compare their numbers at the end of the day.” I put my hand to my chest. “Not me, though. So silly.”
Her shoulders relax. “I had no idea. I can’t imagine doing something like that.” Harper looks me over. “You’re a perfect Cinderella. You’re seriously stunning.”
I like the new girl.
“You’re sweet, Harper.”
Chrissi rearranges herself on the couch and points to a bowl of sour watermelons on the coffee table. “Harper, get yourself some candy, pronto. You’ve survived your first week in princess training, girlie!” Then she rolls her eyes toward me and Rose. “We all know what a painful process that is, all those quizzes and rehearsals and fittings. And that’s after she had this totally dramatic trip down here! Alyssa, you would not believe this story; her trip down was insane! And there was this guy—”
“Chrissi!” Harper interrupts her new roommate with a hiss. “We are not talking about him, okay? I’ve decided to pretend the whole trip never happened. Officially deleted from memory, as quickly as he disappeared.”
I helpfully change the subject. “Well, congrats on making it through the first week. It’s the most grueling; trust me. Except for the requisite stint in fur.” I head back to the couch, leaning down to pick up a piece of candy. “Are you an actress, Harper? Or studying acting, at least?”
Harper’s face becomes guarded. “Umm, no.” She doesn’t come over to the couches, and fiddles with the long chain around her neck instead. “I was actually prelaw. I just … I just … needed to do something different. This summer…” She inhales a deep breath. “… I just needed to get away.”
An endless moment of awkward silence follows.
Harper stares down at the ground, and when she eventually raises her head, I think there’s a trace of tears in her eyes.
But she smiles until they recede, in true princess style, and says, “Let’s talk about something else.” Now she does make her way over to us and extends her hand. “And where’s that candy? Give me, like, ten handfuls.”
The
clouds break, and Harper perches on the arm of the couch, joining us to watch the next segment of the show before announcing she’s in desperate need of a shower after a hot day in one of the park’s employee auditoriums.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opens again, and this time I most certainly do notice.
“Jaaaake!” Chrissi screams when he comes walking in, gently knocking on the door at the same time. She spreads her arms wide in greeting. “Welcome back!”
I smile up at my boyfriend, studying him. He looks happy and relaxed, wearing a tight gray T-shirt, loose jeans, and gray New Balances. I can tell his hair is damp and he’s just showered. I hop up and walk over to give him a hug. Plus he smells yummy.
I kiss him and ask, “How was your day?”
He raises his eyebrows uncertainly. “How was my day? There was a considerable amount of vomit involved in my day. Comes with the territory when you’re stationed at the base of Marauders’ Mountain.”
I wrap my arm around his middle and turn toward Rose and Camila. “Hey, girls. So this is Jake. Jake, this is Rose and Camila. Camila wears glasses; that’s the easiest way to keep it straight.”
He does a double take. “Oh wow! Yeah, you’re twins.”
It is easy to miss it.
“Good to finally meet you, Jake,” Rose says. She narrows her eyes and squints up at him. “Hey, your favorite color doesn’t happen to be red, by any chance?”
He looks thoroughly confused. “Uh, not really. Why?”
Her face is innocently blank. “Oh, I just have a feeling it’s going to be.”
She and Chrissi collapse into each other in a fit of immature giggles, and I just shake my head at Jake. “Just ignore them. Talk to Camila instead. She actually knows how to act her age.”
Camila looks sort of irritated about the proposal, having to talk to a guy. Having to talk.
Once Rose gets herself together, she makes more of an effort to be appropriate. She clears her throat. “Are you staying here at Lakeside, too?”
“Yeah, a few complexes over. Next to the grocery store.” Jake turns his face and plants a quick kiss atop my head.
I smile against his torso. Between the shopping trip, the girl time, and his PDA, I’m definitely feeling much better about things.
Suddenly I hear Harper’s voice from down the hallway. “Chrissi, I hope you don’t mind I used your conditioner. They didn’t have my brand at the store and I haven’t—”
We don’t have a chance to warn her that there’s a boy on the scene and she appears before us, wet hair dripping over her face and back, wearing nothing but a short purple towel that barely covers all the parts it needs to. She stops at once when Jake comes into view, a surprised little gasp escaping her throat, and she struggles to wrap the towel even more securely around her torso.
My body is still pressed against Jake’s, so I feel his stiffen at once. At first his expression is that of a deer caught in headlights, and then his eyes dart wildly, as if looking for an escape.
It’s an uncomfortable run-in, for sure, but certainly he’s seen girls wearing much less. Any given day at the complex pool, as a matter of fact. We should just be adults, offer a quick introduction, and allow Harper to get some clothing ASAP.
“Sorry for the lack of notice about the guy,” I apologize, wincing. “This is my boyfriend, Jake.”
The look of shock on Harper’s face changes to something else, something I can’t quite read. Even though you’d think she’d be darting out of there as fast as she could, she seems frozen in place, and it takes her a minute to find her voice. She swallows hard. Smooths her wet hair. Lifts her chin and once more tucks the end of her towel inside the other end. “Alyssa’s boyfriend. Jake. Okay.” Harper smiles widely, but it’s not the natural one that I thought was so pretty earlier. She manages a quick, stiff wave. “So nice to meet you, Jake.”
He hadn’t relaxed a smidgen. It takes him a minute to remember social norms, but eventually he does respond. “Hey.” He glances down. “Nice to meet you, Harper.”
Moving robotically, Harper twists toward the others. “Get dressed. Right. I should do that.” She backpedals into the room she shares with Chrissi, eyes still on Jake, and then we hear the door slam.
I look up at him. “Do you know her or something? You both … look like you saw a ghost.”
He’s staring after her closed door. “Yeah, I did sort of do a double take. She looks like someone I went to high school with. Thought it was her for a minute.” He takes a deep breath, then finally looks back at me, expression still distant, but his smile in place. “So. Dinner? I’m starving.”
“Sure, just let me get my stuff.” I walk back to the couch to pick up my shopping bag, still trying to shake the unsettling feeling that lingers in the room even after Harper has departed. What was that?
Jake lifts his hand in greeting to the girls. “Chrissi, good to see you again. Rose, Camila, really nice to meet you finally.”
As soon as I return to his side, he has his hand on the small of my back, turning me, pushing me toward the door with slightly more force than is needed.
And once we’re in the hallway, even though he claimed to be starving just a moment ago, he takes my hand and gestures in the direction of my apartment instead. “You know what, hon? Actually I don’t know if I feel like going out to eat tonight. Maybe I’ll just scrounge something up or order something. I think I’d just rather stay in and … hang out.”
His words warm me and dispel the odd feeling from inside the apartment. Now this feels like last year, when we had the best times doing absolutely nothing at my apartment, just hanging out.
“Sure. Sounds better to me, too,” I answer at once.
“Yeah. Let’s just … stay in.”
The rest of our night is about as perfect as I could imagine. He merely rolls his eyes and smiles when I find The Princess Diaries on television and doesn’t protest when I leave it on. He makes us popcorn. He holds me in his arms. He accepts my invitation to stay over.
And as it turns out, I don’t even need to open my shopping bag to get him to say yes.
I’m all smiles as I crawl into bed beside him in a loose T-shirt instead. This is more like it. Seems like my Prince Charming is back in the building.
chapter 4
The fitness center in the middle of Lakeside’s downtown area is a four-story, gleaming, angular monstrosity that doesn’t quite fit amid the narrow boutiques, coffee shops, and chain restaurants surrounding it. It takes up nearly an entire block, and I’m guessing it’s considered an eyesore by the few non–health conscious residents of the complex. But the fitness center was built to meet a demand, a fervent, fanatical type of demand, as the complex slowly but steadily came to house such a large number of Enchanted Enterprises cast members.
I make my way inside, jog-climb the three flights of stairs to the main fitness studio, and survey the scene as I stuff my tote bag in the last empty cubby in the wall. If there was a phrase to describe the fitness studio, I’m pretty sure it would be “you can tell just by looking.” Cast members self-segregate themselves in the various areas of the gym.
Those who portray villains, males and females alike, camp out around the free weights or wait impatiently for GRIT classes to start. They maintain fierce expressions even when working out, interested in bulk, muscles, and strength.
The show performers, who do elaborate stilt work, tumbling, and complicated fusion dances, are here for flexibility and endurance. Their muscles are lean, their bodies wiry, as they pound the belts of the treadmills or contort themselves in advanced yoga classes.
The princes? Linger by machines postworkout, logging stats into their Apple watches and posting them to Instagram.
And then there are us princesses. Typically we have a monopoly on the elliptical or step machines. A lot of the princesses favor the barre classes that focus on posture, balance, and toning one’s core.
I’m totally comfortable at the fitness center; it pretty muc
h parallels the rec center at Coral State. It’s just here I work out next to fellow princesses instead of sorority sisters. The show performers replace the scholarship athletes. And narcissistic guys? They’re the same everywhere you go. I’m so glad Jake’s not a gym rat!
I scan the cluster of elliptical machines, making a beeline for the last one in the row when I see that a girl is stepping off and wiping it down with a cloth. I’m an elliptical girl. On the elliptical, I can listen to Taylor Swift, Meghan Trainor, old-school Britney Spears, zone out, and almost pretend I’m dancing instead of exercising. I don’t actually like to work out, and I really hate running. I work out because I have to. I do so out of habit, because I’m terrified if I don’t do it ritually I’ll stop altogether. Really, the only thing that makes me happy about going to the gym is crossing it off my mental to-do list when I leave.
Climbing on, I put my water bottle in the cup holder and stuff my earbuds into my ears. I select my favorite bubblegum pop playlist and get moving. It makes my head hurt when I try to read or watch TV at the gym, so I distract myself by people watching instead. Well, princess watching, to be more specific. I’m in the second row of machines, so I find myself staring at the backs of my fellow cast members.
I stare at Tara’s legs as they rotate furiously in my line of vision. That’s what I wish my legs looked like, those stick-skinny legs I’ll never have no matter how many calories I burn. I know Jake tells me no guys really like legs that skinny. But I do.
Gracie is working out two machines down from her. She really does have the perfect boob-to-waist ratio. I’d heard some of the girls say as much in a show rehearsal last week. You’d think they’re fake, but they’re not. They’re just naturally perfect.
Alexis, who plays Rose Red on some of Rose’s off days, walks past. She’s tiny and looks like an Olympic gymnast. It’s an unnatural advantage, I swear, being that tiny and lithe. Does she even need to work out? She looks perfect as she is, and I bet she never gains weight, no matter what she eats. I pump my legs faster.
I pretty much spend the entire first part of my workout assessing my coworkers, comparing myself without meaning to. It’s impossible not to. We’re in Florida, it’s hot and sticky most of the time and even worse here in the gym, and the princesses work out in colorful sports bras and yoga pants that fit tighter than a second layer of skin. Despite the humidity, most of us work out in full makeup, even though we’re all well aware how bad it is for one’s pores. We’re forced to acknowledge the perfection of others; we’re forced to face reminders of how easy it would be to fall off our game if we didn’t come every day. There are so many other girls who are just as pretty.