Page 30 of The Prom King & The Ice Queen

Savannah

I will give Leo this.He’s not the worst Prince Charming I’ve ever seen.

I mean, he’s not great either, but he’s surprisingly nice to the little kids who fill the McCarthy’s unfinished basement. I let Willow rattle off all the troupe rules to him when we first arrive.

I’m not exaggerating when I say she knows them all word for word from some training manual Mrs. Messner wrote up a couple years ago. Leo nodded dutifully during the lecture, occasionally trying to make her smile with his “charm”—no pun intended—and failing mightily.

I guess he doesn’t know Willow well if he thinks his lame jokes and that smarmy smile are going to win her over. Unlike April, Cora, and the other sheep who think he’s the bee’s knees, Willow has taste. And intelligence.

Lots and lots of intelligence.

Which is why I’m having a hard time shrugging off her concern right now. She’s not buying any of my excuses.

“Do you want to come over to my house? I know we were going to skip the work afterparty since everyone has school in the morning, but if you want to come hang out, I’m sure Roman could give you a ride later and—”

“It’s fine, Willow, really,” I say.

But it’s not fine. I’m only saying it’s fine because while it appears like Leo is watching the twins compete in another round of tug-of-war, I can tell that he’s eavesdropping.

Any other time I might take Willow up on her offer. Her home is kinda a second home for me. Actually, for all of us. Her parents are almost always out of town, and it’s become the home base for our little group after work events.

But today my mom expects me home and if I don’t get back, and with a paycheck in hand, she’ll freak out.

Since she’s lost yet another job thanks to her poor decision last month to go out of town with her new boyfriend-du-jour rather than, oh…I don’t know. Show any sort of responsibility? We’re down to my measly paychecks for now.

She’ll get another job. She always does. But they never pay much, and until I graduate I’m stuck with what I can get. Which is, in a nutshell…this.

“Are you going to sing?” It’s the O’Reilly girl asking. Tabetha is her name, and she’s cute as can be with little red pigtails and freckles all over her nose.

I just barely hold back a sigh because Leo’s not even pretending to pay attention to the twins any longer. He’s watching me. He has been all day.

Awesome. Just great. I was so hoping my excellent day would culminate in me having to sing a musical number in front of Lindale High’s number one brat.

But now Tabetha’s friends are gathering round, and the pleading is intense. When the birthday girl herself joins in, icing smeared around her mouth and her eyes wide and frightening in that way that children get when they’re riding a massive sugar high—there’s no way I can avoid it.

I look to Callie and she gives me a helpless shrug. She’s the best singer of all of us, and the kids absolutely adore when she sings the songs from Beauty and the Beast. Sometimes she even steps up and sings the Elsa songs when it’s a Frozen themed party. But on occasions like this one when I’m Elsa—there’s only one person who can sing Let It Go.

“Fine,” I mumble with a huff.

Leo makes a choking sound as the kids do what they always do—we troupe members have taught them well—they sit politely in a circle at my feet.

I do my best to avoid looking at Leo.

I swear, if I catch him laughing at me, I’ll have Mrs. Messner dress him up as Gaston so he’s forced to sing too. When all the kids are quiet and the grown ups are gathered with their phones to videotape my humiliation, Willow and Callie gather on either side of the kids and give me encouraging nods.

I sigh again and then give in to the inevitable, studiously looking everywhere but at Leo. “The snow glows white on the mountain tonight…”

The kids are rapt. Their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.

It’s hard not to get into it when they look at you like that—like you actually are a great singer, and not mediocre at best. Like you actually are the Queen of Arendelle herself, and not just some poor high school kid just trying to earn some tips.

And from the teary-eyed way the birthday girl’s mom is watching me?

I’ll be getting mega tips for this. So…that’s something.

The second time I hit the chorus, something funny happens. I kinda…forget what I’m doing. I mean, I don’t lose my place in the lyrics or anything. If anything, I get into them.

Now, I am not an artsy person. I take my job seriously—because I take money seriously. But I’m not in the drama club and I don’t have dreams of being an actress…unless someone offered me lots of money, or whatever.

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