Page 26 of A Princess for Christmas

The lights went out, and after some scrambling and whispering from backstage, some high-powered fans started imposing a “tornado” on Kansas.

The show was pretty great, and not just kid-great. The school was a technology magnet, so Leo hadn’t had high hopes, but whatever the play lacked in terms of show-biz skills of its actors, it made up for in production values. Beside him, Marie gasped audibly when Dorothy woke up and a cool trick of light and engineering saw the black-and-white sets of Kansas replaced by the splendor of Oz.

He was acutely aware of Marie’s reactions to everything, even though most of them were more subtle than that gasp. She clapped and laughed, and when he sneaked a glance at her, she was rapt. He would have thought she’d be accustomed to . . . he didn’t even know. Opera? Ballet? Whatever it was rich people did when theywanted to be entertained. But it seemed that this modest, homespun production truly delighted her.

And then the LollipopGuild—not League—appeared along with the rest of the Munchkins. And there she was, his Gabby. It was probably all the mucking about he’d done the last two days in memories best left undisturbed, but something turned over in Leo’s chest. He was so fucking proud of her. Which was dumb, because it wasn’t like this was an actual achievement. She was just on the side of the pack, dressed in neon colors holding an oversized piece of cardboard made to look like a lollipop.

She was just standing there.

But, she wasstanding there. Alive and thriving—mostly. Smiling through the nerves that were clearly visible—to him, anyway—on her face. Growing up so fast.

The one thing he hadn’t been prepared for when it came to his role as a pseudodad was the wrenching contradictions that came with the gig. He wanted her to grow up, yet he didn’t. She was a child, yet not a child. She’d had her first period, yet there she was, part of a crowd of Munchkins, looking younger than her years.

As the Lullaby League wrapped up their welcome to Dorothy, that Aidan punk stepped up. Leo leaned forward in his seat. There was a pause.

Say it.Say it.

“We represent the Lollipop Guild.”

Leo expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then Gabby, smooth as anything, handed Dorothy her lollipop and said, “And on behalf of the Lollipop Guild, we welcome you to Munchkin Land.”

His hands shot up into the air. He wasn’t sure if he meant toclap them over his head or to pump his fists in victory, but of course neither was appropriate for this context. This wasn’t an Islanders game. The show had moved on and there were people behind him, people who were probably just as excited about their own kids’ theatrical triumphs.

So he lowered his arms, trying to be smooth. And failing, judging by the fact that both Dani and Marie were looking at him with amusement. Dani actually snorted.

The rest of the play was boring. What could he say? Other people’s kids were boring.

But at the end, even though the play had been a nonmusical version, everyone came out and sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Gabby was back, smiling and singing and waving the cardboard lollipop she must have gotten back from Dorothy.

When Leo leapt to his feet along with the rest of the crowd in a standing ovation, he had never meant anything more.

As the applause died down, Marie leaned over and whispered to Leo, “Can we keep the princess thing quiet?”

He turned to her but didn’t answer. His eyes raked over her body in a way that made her feel... funny. “We can try,” he finally said.

Was she not dressed appropriately? She’d tried to dress more businesslike than princesslike this morning, but it seemed that coat dresses were not quite the thing in America.

“I don’t want to upstage your sister, or any of the other children,” she whispered, and it was true—or part of the truth. The rest of it was that she was having so much fun. The students’ enthusiasm for the play, the parents’ pride—it was all contagious.And, goodness: Leo. He could be such a grump, but he was practically oozing love for his sister.

“Yeah, well, my sister is the one likely to bust your cover. She hasn’t had the easiest time socially since she started middle school, and having an honest-to-God princess come see her play is probably the best thing that’s happened to her all year.”

Daniela handed Leo a bouquet of flowers. “We’re supposed to meet them in the lunchroom.”

“Thank you for this,” Leo said, his tone fervent. “I should have thought of this.”

“That’s why you have me.” Daniela must be Leo’s girlfriend. Marie had been so fixated on the fact that Leo was Gabby’s brother and not father, but of course why would a handsome man like him not have a girlfriend?

And why was that disappointing?

Marie reminded herself that Leo’s romantic attachments or lack thereof were no concern of hers, had absolutely no bearing on her life.

Some awkwardness settled as they made their way to the lunchroom. Munchkins and flying monkeys and all manner of creature were milling around, reunited with proud parents. Marie’s awkwardness wasn’t only that she didn’t want to out herself as royalty, but that she felt her otherness. Her apartness. She wasn’t a parent. There were no children running up to hug her—and she probably wouldn’t have known how to act if there were. There was no place for her in this circle of warmth and goodwill.

She tried to tell herself this was nothing new. She was accustomed to feeling like she didn’t belong—like she wasn’t charming enough, or graceful enough, to meet people’s expectations. It happened all the time. At parties—like last night on the boat. Anytime she had to dance. When she was trying to get her father and his advisers to let her allocate some time and capital to what they snootily called her “do-gooder projects.”

But it actually made sense that she felt like an outsiderhere, at this middle school in the Bronx. Shewasone, objectively speaking.

So why did that fact make her so sad?

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