The Princess & the Pauper

  "What's the matter?" Ingrid asked, pulling her hand back.

  "I... I..."

  I was on the verge of tears.

  "This is never going to work," I blurted, my heart pounding. "Anyone can tell she's a fraud. Anyone. There's no way she can be me."

  I looked at Julia's face again. Bad idea. She is me, a little voice in my head wailed. She is me!

  Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my tiara and ran out of the apartment, tears streaming down my face. The last time I had cried in public was when my grandfather had died. I barely knew him, but I had been told that it was my duty to shed a few polite tears. Even my emotions weren't truly mine. "Carina! Wait!" Ingrid called after me as I ran down the stairs.

  But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I was angry at Ingrid for taking so much pride in making that girl into a total Carina replacement. I was embarrassed for breaking down in front of them. And I was also totally confused. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? This whole scheme was giving me a chance to meet Ribbit. So why couldn't I stop crying?

  "Carina! If you take one more step, I'm taking a picture of you in that little halter top you're wearing and sending it right to your mother's computer!" Ingrid shouted.

  I froze in my tracks. "Why are you even following me?" I asked her, quickly swiping the tears from under my eyes

  109

  before turning to face her. "Don't you want to hang out with your little experiment up there?"

  "You know, I don't get you at all," Ingrid said, stepping up in front of me. She had her digital camera in her hand. She must have brought it over to document Julia's historic transformation. "All I've been trying to do is help you. You really think I wanted to spend half my time in L.A. hanging out with your little pauper up there?"

  "You're the one who gave her five thousand dollars," I reminded her. "I thought you liked the girl."

  Ingrid took a deep breath and looked at the ground. "Okay, I kinda do, but that's beside the point," she said. She looked me in the face and her eyes softened. At that moment I knew that she knew what I was thinking. Ingrid might have had a hard exterior and, okay, some hard interior parts as well, but she was still my best friend.

  "She's only playing you," she said firmly. "She's not replacing you."

  My heart gave a little thump of doubt. "I ... I know that," I said, not so convincingly.

  "No one could ever replace you," Ingrid said. Then she reached out and hugged me, resting her chin on my shoulder. "Look, you're going to have the most amazing night of your life with Ribbit and then you're going to come back to the hotel and everything will be normal again. Julia will go back to being Julia and you'll go back to being Carina."

  I pulled away from her and smiled. "You really think it's going to be the most amazing night of my life?"

  "Well, it would be better if I was going to be there," she said. "But I bet it'll still be all right."

  110

  We both laughed. Ingrid was right. I had to remember why we were doing this. I was going to get to meet Ribbit. I was going to go to a real concert. For one night, I was going to get to be a normal girl. Wasn't that what I'd always wanted?

  "Come on," Ingrid said. "Let's go back upstairs."

  We started across the sidewalk, but before we made it two steps, Ingrid squeezed my arm, stopping me in my tracks the same way she always did when we were at an event and there was someone undesirable approaching.

  "Isn't that Julia's mother?" she said under her breath.

  A woman in sneakers and an awful pink-and-white costume approached Julia's building, digging in her purse. She bore a slight resemblance to the pretty woman in the frame in Julia's room.

  "I thought she wasn't supposed to be home for hours!" I whispered as the woman pushed through the red door of Julia's building.

  "Get in the car!" Ingrid said, opening the door and practically shoving me in. "B.B.! Honk the horn!" she demanded.

  B.B. did as he was told and Julia appeared at the window a few moments later, her expression confused.

  "Your mom is coming!" Ingrid half yelled, half whispered.

  "What?" Julia shouted.

  "Your mom is coming!"

  Julia glanced over her shoulder into the apartment, then disappeared.

  "If she gets caught in that dress ...," I said, looking up at Julia's window as B.B. pulled out onto the road.

  "If she gets caught in that dress," Ingrid said grimly, "we're done for."

  111

  ***

  Chapter 14

  I heard my mother's familiar steps clomping up the stairs and for a second I couldn't move. She was supposed to be working the late shift tonight. What was she doing home? I looked down at my dress, my heart skipping with panic. When her keys hit the doorknob, it was like someone had kicked me in the back. I flew into my room as fast as my tasteful heels would carry me.

  "Julia?" my mother called out, sticking her head into the apartment.

  "Hi, Mom!" I shouted. I slammed my bedroom door and struggled with the hook at the back of the dress. "What are you doing home?"

  "The place was dead, so they let a few of us off early," my mom replied, her voice getting closer. The hook finally came free and I unzipped the zipper beneath it. "Did you eat yet?"

  "Uh ... yeah," I said, trying not to rip the delicate spaghetti straps as I freed myself from them. The gown fell to the floor and I grabbed an oversized T-shirt off my desk chair, pulling it on quickly just as the door

  112

  started to open. I yanked out the pins that held my hair back and winced as I tore a few strands right out of my scalp.

  Oh God! The gown! I did the only thing I could do and kicked it under the bed.

  "What did you make?" my mother asked, leaning against the doorjamb. "I'm starved."

  "Uh ... there isn't any left," I said. Carina and Ingrid had actually brought over Chinese takeout and the containers were piled up in the garbage can under my desk. "But I could make you some soup or something." I hustled her out of my room before she could notice the piles of designer makeup and the package of home hair dye we were going to use the following morning. That and the stench of Kung Pao chicken.

  "Sounds good," my mother said as we headed for the kitchen. "And listen, hon, we need to talk. I'm working all night tomorrow, but I was thinking maybe Sunday we should start packing. Rita said we could move in with her for a few weeks while we find a new place."

  "Great," I said, wincing. Rita was a friend of my mother's from work. You could smell cigarettes on her from ten feet away, and she also had this annoying thirteen-year-old son named Sheldon who was completely in love with me and showed it by giving me packages of tradable Star Wars cards whenever he saw me.

  "Look, I know you don't like Rita very much, but I'm out of options here, Julia," my mother said in her stressed voice. She filled two mugs with water and stuck them in the microwave, then turned to look at me. For the first

  113

  time I noticed the huge bags under her eyes. "I don't know what else to do."

  This was ridiculous. I had to tell my mother what was going on. I had to tell her that I'd already solved all our problems.

  But she won't let you go through with it, I told myself. And if you don't go through with it, you'll have to give the money back--money that you don't have anymore.

  But I wasn't going to let my mother stay up all night tomorrow worrying about packing and money and the fact that she was going to subject me to the torture of living in a smoke-filled, Sheldon-plagued house. The only problem was, I had no idea what to do.

  "I'm surprised there haven't been any new notes from Dominic reminding us of when we have to be out," my mother said as the microwave beeped. "Do you think he suddenly grew a conscience?"

  A note! I thought suddenly. That was it! It was perfect! Tomorrow before I left, I would leave my mother a note explaining everything, along with the rent receipt and the rest of the money. By the time she got home from work and found it, th
e ball would be over and it would be too late for her to stop me. I'd still be grounded forever, but at least she'd get a good night's rest tomorrow night.

  "You know what, Mom?" I said as she handed me a mug of steaming water and a tea bag. I smiled as I sat down across from her at the table. "I have a feeling everything's going to be okay."

  114

  Dear Mom,

  You're never going to believe this, but I found a way to raise some money to help us with the rent. I know you're not going to like it, but I swear it's not illegal or dangerous or anything. You know I would never do anything like that. So here's the deal.

  This week the princess from Vineland, her name is Carina, came to our school to give a speech. Afterward I kind of got to meet her and she asked me to help her with something. She wants me to spend the day with her on Saturday and go to this ball that night and then stay over. And I know it sounds totally freaky, but she's paying me $10,000 to do it.

  Okay, stop hyperventilating. I'll explain everything when I get home on Sunday, which should be around 10:30 in the morning. I already paid three months rent as you can see by the receipt I got from Dominic. And I left some more money here for you. I just didn't want you to worry anymore about moving and all that stuff. Anyway, I know you're going to ground me for not telling you about this, but I was afraid you wouldn't let me do it and I really wanted to do something to help.

  So I'll see you on Sunday morning, and please don't worry, and I love you.

  Love,

  Julia

  115

  ***

  Chapter 15

  "Where is she?" I demanded, checking my watch for the third time in about thirty seconds. It was still 12:05, just like it had been the last two times I'd looked at my wrist. "How can she be late?"

  "Carina, calm down," Ingrid said, taking a drag on her cigarette. "Just because no one's ever made you wait before in your life--"

  "Please! That's not what this is about," I said, even though it probably sort of was. No one else had ever dared be late to see me or my family. "I'm just--"

  "Nervous about meeting Ribbit?" Ingrid supplied.

  I held my breath. "Basically, yes," I said.

  "Don't worry about it," Ingrid said. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray on my desk, picked up a hairbrush, and walked over to me. "Let's just hope he likes brunettes," she said, her eyes twinkling as she brushed through my freshly dyed hair.

  "Does it look okay?" I asked, the butterflies in my stomach partying like it was New Year's Eve. I hadn't looked in a mirror in at least an hour. It was too weird to see Julia looking back at me.

  116

  "You could dye your hair purple and still be beautiful," she said. "I hate that."

  I smirked, recalling my Markus thoughts of the night before. I wished I could tell him that I was ditching him tonight to hang out with a grungy punk singer. I would just have loved to see the look on his way-too-handsome face.

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door. I grabbed my messenger bag and stood up, my heart pounding. This was it.

  "Who's there?" Ingrid called out.

  "It's Bill," B.B. replied in a hoarse whisper.

  "Come in!" I said, my voice cracking with excitement.

  "She's in the stairwell," B.B. said when he opened the door. "I had to bribe a security guard and one of the bellboys. You're gonna reimburse me, right?"

  "You'll get your money," I said impatiently. "Bring her in."

  B.B. disappeared, and I looked at Ingrid for a reassuring glance, which she provided. Moments later Julia stepped into the doorway. Her hair had been dyed to my exact shade of blond.

  Instantly all the feelings I'd had the night before came rushing back to me. With her new hair, the resemblance was perfect. If Ingrid had taken a picture of her right at that second, I wasn't sure I would have been able to tell the difference.

  I couldn't believe this girl was able to pull this off. The first time I'd seen her, she had just screamed "cave dweller."

  And now ... she was me. I turned away from her and finally looked in a mirror. When I saw my reflection, I swallowed back a lump in my throat. She was me, and I was her.

  117

  "Hey ... ," Julia said, stepping uncertainly into the room. She was probably recalling my massive breakdown and wondering if I was about to have another. "You look so ... different."

  She placed the box that held my gown down on the bed and walked over to me. Together we looked at ourselves in the mirror. My heart was slamming against my rib cage. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

  Suddenly I found myself wishing my mother were there--that she would walk into the room at that moment and come right over to me and give me a huge hug. I wanted to prove that Julia and I were still... Julia and I.

  "Carina," Ingrid said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "The Toadmuffin roadie is gonna meet you behind the embassy in fifteen minutes. You better move your butt or you're gonna miss him." We'd decided on the pickup spot because all the reporters would be at the hotel and they might have noticed me hanging out conspicuously waiting for someone. The embassy was the only landmark we knew within a few blocks' radius.

  I looked at Julia's reflection and she smiled. "Don't worry," she said. "I know what I'm doing."

  Why didn't that make me feel better?

  "Carina! Come on!" Ingrid said.

  Well, there was no turning back now. I threw my bag over my shoulder, gave Ingrid a quick hug, and headed for the door. Soon I would be meeting Ribbit and everything would be perfect. I had nothing to worry about.

  "Good luck!" Julia called out.

  For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to say, "You too."

  118

  "Take the stairwell down a few floors and then get on the elevator," B.B. instructed me as I stepped into the hallway. "There are reporters downstairs and they'll notice if the elevator comes down from the penthouse."

  I could always count on B.B. for sneaking advice. "Thanks," I said. I pushed open the heavy door to the stairwell, walked down to the tenth floor, then took the elevator the rest of the way. A couple with two daughters got on at the fifth floor and I froze for a moment, waiting for someone to recognize me, but they didn't even give me a second glance.

  Not all Americans know you, I reminded myself. Of course, the way I looked right then, the residents of Vineland might not even have recognized me. Which is a good thing, I told myself.

  We all stepped out of the elevator in the lobby and walked right past a little klatch of reporters and photographers. Again, not a second glance. Huh. This was kind of... freeing.

  Out on the sidewalk I took a left and headed for the embassy, which was only a few blocks away. The sun shone on my face and the traffic rushed by and I realized that I was actually walking by myself. No Ingrid. No Killroy. No security detail. I was completely and totally alone.

  Completely and totally independent.

  I felt a smile stretch across my face as I stopped at a Don't Walk sign with a group of tourists. I was just one of them. One of a bunch of regular people. Suddenly a horn honked and I looked up to see a Jeep full of guys--shirtless guys--speeding by.

  119

  "Hey, baby!" one of them called out. "Looking hot!"

  My face reddened, but I laughed. In Vineland no one would ever have dared to say such a thing to me. I'd been told all my life I was beautiful, but I'd never had a guy my age call me hot. Was this what it was like for normal teenage girls?

  The sign changed to Walk and I scurried across the street with the rest of the crowd. All the way to the embassy I held my head high, looked people in the face, and was recognized by absolutely no one. I was living a dream.

  When I reached the embassy, I looked up at the Vineland flag waving in the breeze. How many times had I entered that building this week, surrounded by reporters and protected by bodyguards? If I walked up there right now, the men stationed at the door would probably make me walk through the metal detector!

  I gi
ggled and made my way around to the back of the building. It was a nondescript street with a few cars parked along the curb and a few palm trees shading the sidewalk. As I stood there waiting for Ribbit's roadie, I could barely contain my excitement. I was practically bouncing up and down in my new Skechers and giggling every so often. If anyone had seen me, they probably would have thought I'd escaped from the nearest mental ward.

  Suddenly a big, beat-up van squealed to a stop in front of me, its engine rumbling. The passenger-side door swung open with a loud creak and for a split second I had the terrifying thought that I was about to be kidnapped. Then a burly guy with long, frizzy blond hair sticking out from under a bandanna leaned over from behind the steering wheel.

  120

  "Julia?" he shouted over the loud music blaring from the van.

  "Urn ... yes?" I said, baffled.

  "Get in, dude!" he said. His T-shirt read I Brake for Boobs.

  This could not be my driver. "Are you ... Ribbit's roadie?" I asked.

  He let out a loud laugh and shrugged. "This week I am. Last week I was Dave Navarro's and the week before that I was working for Sum 41." He reached out a callous-covered hand with a tattoo of a spider on the back of it. "I'm Crazy Dave."

  Did he really think I was going to shake his hand? God only knew where that thing had been.

  "You're kidding me," I said, looking at the dents in the side of the van. My parents would have keeled over at the thought of me riding in this ... monstrosity.

  "Nope, Crazy Dave's the name," he said with a laugh. At least he pulled back his hand. "It kind of stuck after the time I put my head through a bar window after an Alice in Chains concert."

  "No ... I mean ... you have to be kidding me with this van," I said. "It can't be safe."

  "Safe as kittens," he said. Whatever that meant. "Come on. Even Cinderella had to ride in a tomato."

  "A pumpkin."

  "Really?"

  "Forget it." I started walking away. "Suit yourself," he said.

  He reached over to close the door and I paused. Where did I think I was going? Back to the hotel? Where there

  121

  already was a Carina? There is such a thing as too much princess.