Barbie: Dreamscape

Chapter 1 Perfect

Perfect

My life is a dream.

Rose-colored enchanted birds wake me up every morning with a warm cup of tea.

They pull back my sunset-tinged, spun-from-clouds (yes, actual clouds) comforter, help me up from my pillow (also a cloud, sunrise dipped), then carry me by the ribbons on the shoulders of my nightdress to the bathroom to get ready, where a bath is already running, pearlescent bubbles foaming and effervescing.

They do my hair, then an enchanted wardrobe helps me get dressed, then I have a perfect day at school with my perfect friends and we all have fun and then go to bed and do it all over again.

Everything goes exactly as planned.

Things are fair all the time.

Hard work is always rewarded.

Isn’t life great that way?

Things are so good, even my dreams are just reflections of my normal days: Getting ever-flowing sundaes at the ice-cream room in the cafeteria; taking a boat down the pink canals of Heartland to see the nightly fireworks; raising my hand in class and always getting the answer right; earning a 100% on a test to add to my You’re the Best! wall.

All things I do all the time.

But the dream I’m having this morning… it isn’t like my life at all.

It’s kind of… dark?

It takes place on Boxing Day, the most important day of my life, the pinnacle of everything I’ve worked so hard for, the culmination of my time at Swancrest Academy, when I get assigned my future role—and future happiness—by the all-knowing, all-powerful Fates…

It’s a moment I daydream about often. Me, standing in front of all of Heartland, getting a Fate no one’s ever seen before. Maybe even being the first person to get multiple.

But in this dream… the most awful thing is happening.

I keep getting Fates I hate.

In a loop. Over and over and over again.

It’s more of a nightmare, really.

First, the Fates assign me the role of Beekeeper, even though I’m deathly allergic to bees.

Next, I’m assigned Bookkeeper, which sounds kind of fun, but I have recently learned it does not mean keeping a bunch of books. At least, not the kind I’d want to read in my spare time.

Then, I’m handed the role of Doctor, even though I’m one of those people who faints when they see blood.

My subconscious, it seems, is very creative, in a torturous kind of way. In every one of these scenarios, I’m given a future that’s like squeezing my feet into any shoes that aren’t heels—

They just don’t fit.

And that’s how I know this dream isn’t real.

In real life, things always work out. Especially for me. This must be fake.

With that, I jolt awake.

My eyes open… and everything is as it should be.

“That was weird,” I say to myself, frowning, an expression I don’t often have use for.

Then, my wide-reaching smile—much better—overtakes my face. I bring my hands together excitedly.

“Is that… what nerves feel like?” My eyes widen. “Was I having… anxiety?!”

The idea of it makes me squeal. It’s just so… relatable!

“Looks like my life…” I say as the birds—Misty and Bonbon—swoop toward me, a teacup held between them, “… might not be so perfect after all.”

Wink.

“Ow.”

The birds are braiding my blonde hair into its usual immaculate crown, and the jolt of pain as they begin tightly winding the strands together pulls me out of rehearsing the look of surprise I plan to have on my face tomorrow, after my glorious Fate has been revealed.

Too nonchalant… and I’ll look ungrateful.

Too shocked… and I’ll look like I don’t deserve it.

Too excited… and I’ll look like I tried too hard. Which I’m told is the worst thing a person could possibly do ever.

But you know what? I did try hard. I did extra homework. I read outside the required reading. I did extra credit. I did extra extra credit. I finished my projects early. Sometimes, I would invent my own assignments and finish those too, just for fun.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, and sure, I might not be fun. But I put school above everything else in my life, including having a good time.

If—when—I get a revolutionary Fate… I’ll deserve it.

I lift my chin. Pull back my shoulders.

I’m ready for the next stage of my life I’ve worked so hard for. I’m ready to shed this season of life and bloom into someone new. Speaking of new…

“Do you think we could try something different today?” I ask, my voice polite even as my scalp is aching, looking at Misty and Bonbon hopefully in the reflection of my pink gem-crusted mirror.

They both ignore me. I shouldn’t be surprised. The birds don’t speak. But they listen—only to the Headmistress of Swancrest Academy, Robin, the woman who gave me a home after my mother died, when I was just a baby.

Without Robin… who knows where I would be? Definitely not at a place like Swancrest. No, I’d be an orphan, alone in the world and—

My shoulders hike up with a chill.

Gross. Sadness. I brush the negative thought away like a cobweb.

Anyway, Robin is why I’ve always worked so hard at school. She’s the reason my life is such a dream. Pleasing her is the least I can do, in thanks for everything she’s given me.

Misty and Bonbon finally finish their last pull of my braid, and I make my way back into my bedroom, my feet stepping from frosty strawberry-veined marble to warm wood.

Buttery sunlight spills from my curtain-framed windows.

The middle pane is stained glass and the rose-colored pieces filter the morning through them, bathing my room in pink light.

I told you… dreamy.

Now, time to get dressed.

As though on cue, Wardrobe—my beloved, and giant, closet—shuffles over from the corner of my room, the mahogany wood groaning with the effort. It settles in front of me, then opens wide, unfolding a half dozen compartments, drawers opening one after another in a glorious ripple.

I clasp my hands together. Time to see which shade of pink I’ll wear today.

At Swancrest, we don’t have a uniform—we can wear anything as long as it has the signature sigil patched on: the shape of a swan in a circle.

But I always, only and devotedly, wear pink, since it was my mother’s favorite color.

The shade of pink that Wardrobe offers varies almost daily, usually corresponding to my moods: magenta when I’m feeling bold, dusty pink when I’m feeling reflective, bubble gum on Tuesdays, candy pink on holidays, lavender when I’m sad (never!).

Clothing has always been my armor. My mother made all my outfits. It was her talent. And when I stand before Wardrobe every morning, deciding how to present myself to the world, I can almost feel her, shining through satiny fabrics and intricate designs, cloaking me in love.

Pink is Robin’s favorite color, too. She says it’s a magical color, which is why she made much of Swancrest that same shade.

It brightens moods. Keeps away storms. Brings positive energy.

Which is good, because today… I need it. My final exam will decide who becomes our year’s valedictorian. I’ve always been at the top of the class. This last distinction will be the ultimate proof to Robin that I’ve taken every one of her opportunities for the gifts they are.

I need to feel extra strong. Even more competent.

Wardrobe knows this (of course it does, it’s enchanted). Which is why all my options look even more special than usual.

There’s a dress made up of hundreds of cherry blossoms, a skirt and top with heart-shaped ruby buttons, fancy pants and a jacket in a foxglove shade, and—right at the end—a bright hot pink bedazzled blazer and skirt set.

I reach out, brushing the sea of thousands of gems.

This is the one.

Now…

Shoes!

The doors close again, then open in a flash, revealing rows and rows of options.

Heels, sandals, heeled sandals, booties, boots. I tilt my head as the wardrobe offers each one forward, the drawers twisting and expanding as it shows me its wares.

I purse my lips. “The boots,” I say, and in a glimmering pink streak, each of my selections are thrown up into the air and caught by Misty and Bonbon, who always press and shine my clothing to perfection before I put it all on.

Lastly, Bonbon helps me with my most prized possession. A necklace with the letter “B,” surrounded by a circlet of shooting stars, that belonged to my mother.

Wardrobe opens one final time to reveal a full-length mirror.

I inspect myself head to toe as the birds look on approvingly, every strand of hair in place, every inch of my outfit smooth and gleaming. I smile.

Pink and perfect.

Just like my life.