Princess for Hire (22 page)

“Maybe next time,” I heard myself saying. “I want to go home. I miss my family. A break sounds like a really good idea, actually.”

“Fine. A little time to recharge your batteries, then we’ll start your Level Two training.” Meredith pointed her phone at the open elevator, and the bubble appeared inside. She smiled sheepishly. “Going up? Small protocol break, but let’s get you home.”

This ride seemed shorter than the others. I was minutes away from being back where I’d left off, yet galaxies from being the girl I was.

I was Level Two now, after all. Level Two and thinking about an unavailable prince.

The bubble bounced, and we stared at each other. “There’s your stop. Your paycheck will arrive very soon. When you’re ready to get back to work, we’ll be in touch.”

“Sure. Yeah. In a few weeks. Or months.”

“Lovely. Unless a gig comes up screaming Desi, in which case I’ll contact you. Until then.” She held out her hand.

“Don’t you think we should hug or something?” I asked.

She hesitated. “This top. It’s dry-clean only, and—”

I seized her in a hug. She gave my back a light tap. “You’ll be right back in the dunk tank once you step through. Take a deep breath. There can be up to a one-minute delay, and given how long you’ve been under already, you could drown.”

“Drown?” I pulled away.

Meredith laughed. “Enough with the drama.”

I sucked in as much air as I could and flashed her a thumbs-up. I fell through the wall, back into a wet oblivion.

Chapter
25

A
lmost drown? Is blacking out before hearing a name calling from the Great Beyond ALMOST drowning? Seriously, when I go back to that job, I’m so negotiating life- insurance benefits.

“Wake up, Desi!” a voice warbled. “Wake up!”

Someone’s lips closed around mine and filled me up with air. I rolled to my side and coughed up water. A loud sound, almost like a cheer, filled my ears.

“Desi! Desi! Honey, can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes. My mom and Drake were peering down at me.

“Your dress. It’s soaked.” I coughed again. “Did I ruin it?”

Mom slowly pulled me up into a sitting position, her arm around me. “A dress is replaceable. You aren’t. What happened? Why didn’t you swim or stand up?”

“I guess I was just traumatized,” I said.

Mom tilted her head to the side, revealing a large crowd of onlookers. Come one, come all to the Idaho Daze fair—funnel cake and drowning girls, sure to be a smash! The HMs lingered in their tight circle, along with that new boy, Reed. Hayden, however, had peaced out.

Man, he dunks me and doesn’t have the
decency
to stay and watch me cough up the water I almost drowned in. Not that I wanted anyone to witness my aqua-regurgitation, but still. What a waste of doodling space. He was so out of Karl’s league.

Celeste stood just behind my mom, hugging herself. Celeste in her red dress with her pretty face and severe panty lines. Now would be the time to show my mom what Celeste was really like—to show everyone. Our eyes locked for one bazillionth of a second, but in that second, every memory I had of her, the good and bad and the years in between, played out, and I made the decision I never thought I would. I decided to let it go.

I let it all go.

“Yeah, well, I’m fine now.”

Celeste’s smug expression melted into a mystified O. The look I’d probably had on my face when I realized she was going to dunk me.

“I should take swimming lessons or something,” I added.

Celeste grabbed the HMs, her face still masked in confusion. Annie and Nikki nodded at me but followed Celeste. And I was okay. Maybe someday they’d break free. And if not, well, their loss.

“Here’s a towel.” Drake tossed me a
Finding Nemo
beach towel, and Mom wrapped it around me. “I’m really sorry. Next year we’ll do a cakewalk. Actually, cake sounds good right now. I’m going to go walk until I win. And I’ll save you a piece, okay, Desi?”

I laughed and nodded. When Drake was gone, Mom swallowed me in a hug. She smelled like summer and Vaseline. I nestled into her.

Then she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I want you to know I’m so proud of you.”

“Proud of a pooper-scooper?”

“Proud of your hard work and guts. I would never have stepped into a dunk tank at your age. You’re just so confident. I wish I was more like that.”

“Um, thanks?” Had my pageant-queen mom seriously just complimented my confidence? What bizarre universe had I flown back to? “Where’s Dad and Gracie?”

“They’re at the petting zoo. I was just walking by and saw you lying on the ground, with that boy giving you CPR, and…” Mom’s eyes welled up. “Oh, honey. I was so scared.”

“Wait. Rewind.” I glanced around to make sure Hayden wasn’t around after all. Maybe I’d underestimated his chivalry. “Boy? CPR? Oh gross, it wasn’t Drake, was it?”

Mom covered her mouth. “Oh! I almost forgot to thank him!”

She rushed over to Reed and pulled him back toward me. Hold up. He was the one who…Kylee was going to die. The new kid gave me MOUTH-TO-MOUTH?

“This boy helped pull you out of the water and gave you CPR.” Mom turned on her smile. “You’re a hero. Thank you so much for saving my daughter.”

Reed ducked his head. “Was nothing.”

Kylee was right. His accent was cute.

Mom patted my arm. “Well, I’m going to run over and find your dad and Gracie. Do you want anything? A funnel cake? Some dry clothes? Your makeup is smudged a little, honey—”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

My mom left, along with the crowd, leaving just Reed and me alone. He squatted down next to me, the water from the dunk tank casting a swirly glow on his face. “So, rough day? You feeling all right? I’m Reed, by the way.”

“Desi. Thanks. I’m fine.” And, by the way, Reed, I think your lips were just on mine. Nice to meet you.

“I don’t know many girls who would brave a dunk tank.”

“Well, it was pretty harrowing.”

Reed laughed an easy laugh that rose right from his belly. “Maybe you could go around to different schools and share your experience with other dunk tank survivors.”

“Yeah, I’m sure there are millions of us.” I squeezed some water out of my hair, amazed I felt as good as I did.

Mouth-to-mouth is like kissing, right? How could we just sit here chitchatting like this? I went from never kissing a boy to multiple lip encounters in a day. Both technicalities, being as one was in another girl’s body, and Reed had just been trying to save my life. But still. Go, Desi.

“Hey, do you want me to get you another towel or something?” Reed asked.

“I’m fine. My hair’s probably a mess, though.”

He brushed his hand across my chin and tugged at a braid. It was an odd gesture, considering we’d just met, but he’d earned it with the life-saver thing. “I like your hair.”

“What did you say?”

“Your hair. I like it.” His smile reminded me of Karl’s. “Braids are cute.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Stop thinking about Karl.

Kylee darted out from behind the milk toss and waved. “Desi! I just heard. Did you seriously pass out?” She stopped and gazed at Reed, her mouth open. A sound came out, but not quite a word.

“Sorry?”

“I’m Kylee.”

“Reed.”

“Wait, so did you—” Kylee pointed at Reed and then at me. “Desi, did he?”

I glanced at Reed. “Offer me a towel? Yep, he sure did.”

“Seriously, though, let me grab you another one,” Reed said.

Kylee waited until he was gone before she asked, “Okay, I heard there was CPR—”

“Yeah, but I was passed out, so it doesn’t count—”

“No way. That totally counts. Oh my gosh! So did Hayden see you like that?”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I’m over him.”

“Wait. You’re over him? Uh, did you knock your head in the tank? You’re sounding sane.”

“I’m just listening to your advice. Finally.”

“Good. You deserve better. Like, I don’t know, the guy you just technically kissed. The one who saved your life. And if you’re not taking him, I’m
so
next in line.”

Right, because another boy was just what I needed. No way. Not after clueless Hayden and totally unavailable Karl. If I didn’t have two jobs already, I’d be interviewing at convents.

“Step right up,” I whispered, wishing with every last ounce of MP in me that I could tell Kylee about Karl so she’d understand.

Reed came back with a towel and handed it to me.

Kylee smiled flirtatiously and asked, “So, Reed. I’m dying to know what you think of Sproutville.”

Reed grinned. “Feels like home already.”

I came up with some project ideas and spent the next day designing a new T-shirt. Mom even gave me one of her nicer Gap ones—cream with puff sleeves. I freehanded a butterfly, then did the print in a clear, cursive font. I was going to do
PUPA YOURSELF
, but it sounded like
POOP ON YOURSELF
, and I’d had enough poop experiences via Pets Charming to last for eternity. What I ended up with was
LIFE IS FREER ONCE YOU’RE OUT OF THE COCOON.

Instantly my new favorite shirt.

There was something else subbing had inspired me to do—and no, it wasn’t a Karl notebook. I’m not into self-torture, although I did cut out one picture of him from a royalty magazine and stick it next to Paul Newman on my Wall o’ Awesome Things. Just as a, you know, souvenir.

What I really wanted was to keep a journal, but write it kind of like it was fictional, so if anyone ever found it, they’d think it was just a bunch of fluff. Something to daydream in while I returned to normal life (including Pets Charming. Okay, so maybe I do like torture. But I had to help Drake protect his magical fish, right?). I’d detail how I’d impacted my clients, and brainstorm possibilities to help more, once I went back to the agency. Maybe write a little this or that about Karl. Research.

I rifled through my desk in pursuit of a clean spiral notebook. In the top of my bottom drawer I found a green envelope with sparkling ink. A purple, glittery credit card slid out. I held it up to the light, smiling as I read the enclosed note.

Desi,

Here is your pay for three gigs. If you want to know how it’s broken down, e-mail me at [email protected] and I’ll send you the details. Or, you could save me the time of doing the exchange rate, and know it’s all in there, minus taxes, my cut, and a percentage from the first two gigs to cover the Blow Dart Incident. As was stated in your contract, you are underage and unable to receive complete payment in cash. We don’t want worried parents knocking down our door thinking we’re running an underground drug ring. So, a Fa
ç
ade scholarship has been set up in your name, and you will receive four thousand dollars toward the college of your choice when you turn eighteen. Yes, we take education very seriously at Fa
ç
ade, and if you ever want to go corporate, you will need at least a bachelor’s degree. The remaining six hundred fifty-eight dollars has been set up in a bank account accessible only by using the enclosed credit card. It’s up to you if you want to show your parents this, but it might be hard to explain how a teenager qualified on her own. Might be best to keep this between us. It has been a pleasure working with you, and I look forward to furthering your employment with Fa
ç
ade. Until Level Two…

Ta-ta,

Meredith

Acknowledgments

I
f my life were made into a movie—
The Lindsey Leavitt Story Revealed
—I’d cast the following people as Those Who Made This Book Possible. (A collective role, but it’s as meaty as they come. Even Audrey would be jealous.) Thanks to…

Sarah Davies a.k.a. The Literary Jerry McGuire. Desi would never have found her lovely home without your editorial guidance and keen business savvy. Ever since you took those boots off your desk, you’ve been running around on my behalf.

Emily Schultz, this book would be completely and quite literally void of magic if it weren’t for your enlightened ideas and tireless efforts to get every last word right. I’m so very grateful for the opportunity to work with you, mighty OMEGA. The wonderful team at Disney-Hyperion Books for working so hard to make this book a success, especially Elizabeth H. Clark for a glamorous cover and Hallie Patterson for help with publicity.

Rachel Boden for your lovely input and for sharing the greatest princess story of them all. Alison Dougal for your grace and assistance. Also, thanks to everyone else at Egmont UK for all your work on the other side of the pond.

My mom for your constant cheerleading, support, and friendship. I’m sure there isn’t a literate soul safe from your maternal salesmanship. And dad for
Sabrina, Rear Window, Funny Face
…and help with all the references in this text. And to you both for installing in me a love of books and believing in me and…Glitter!!!

Curry, who started this all by saying, “If anyone could be a writer, it’s you,” and riding the writing roller coaster with me, hands up. Also, for all the meals cooked, dishes cleaned, bedtime stories told while I went into my writing comas. Nothing hotter than a man in an apron, babe.

My girls for endless princess inspiration, playing so well together, and for not sighing too loudly when Mommy abandoned the puzzle just to “write one tiny thing down.”

Uncle Kyle for buying me my first chapter book,
Ramona Quimby, Age 8
, and many more beyond that. Also, I’m sure you’ll start the first and only middle-aged male fan club for this book, so I thank you in advance for that.

Brett, Zach, Morgan, and Rachel for the sibling support. And to the rest of my family: The Taylors, The Orrs, The Harrises, The Leavitts: Many of you will find your name in some form in the text of this very book. To the rest of you—don’t worry. Many books to come. Just be nice, or I’ll make you a villain.