“I’m looking forward to today,” Odelia says. “Is the jewelry too much? I never get to wear it anymore, so I thought . . . Oh, I don’t know what to think. Should I take it off?”
I never thought I’d see a day when Odelia was unsure of herself. For once, it’s my turn to reassure her. “Don’t take off the jewelry,” I say. “With or without your accessories, you are a perfect princess. Deal with it.”
“Thank you,” she says. “And you are far more than rather plain.”
I squeak out, “Thank you,” and am secretly proud of myself for remembering my manners.
“To be honest,” Odelia begins, “Serena has mentioned more than once that I have ogre-size shoulders and—according to you—feet the size of a giant and the gluteus maximus of an Olympic gymnast. Also, I’ve been cursed with hair that when twisted into a bun invites a sparrow to nest. I am, as you say, a dork.”
I giggle. “That’s why that sparrow follows you everywhere?” I ask.
Odelia nods. “Dang, that bird is annoying!”
A smile creeps up on me. Odelia is less and less proper every day. “What’s in the bag?”
“It is a gift for you. Please open it. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.”
I lift up the end of the soft fabric bag and see a gown exactly like Odelia described the other day. It’s the color of a rose—not a deep, dark-red rose, but a light rosy rose. I can’t resist running my fingers over the soft material. The sash is white. It’s gathered into an enormous bow in the back. The satin slippers match the sash and each one has a rosy bow. It is the best princess outfit I’ve ever seen!
“Do you like it?” Odelia asks.
“I do,” I tell her. “But I’m finding it hard to be in a party mood.”
Odelia puts on a scowl fit for a cranky old grandma. “If you don’t come, the campers will be disappointed.”
I can’t argue with that. I touch the dress and it feels bouncy. I check under the skirt. “Can I ditch this netted stuff? It’ll scratch me.”
“I guess you can ditch the tulle slip. Put it on and see if it fits. My seamstress is extraordinary and I tried to explain what size you were, but she’s not a magician. If it’s not accommodating, we can make alterations.”
“Accommodating? Alterations?” I ask. “Stop making everything sound like a royal proclamation!”
“If it doesn’t fit, we’ll fix it,” Odelia answers abruptly.
Odelia shoves me out of bed. In five minutes, I’m transformed. The slippers are surprisingly cushiony, but the gown is droopy, a problem that, Odelia reminds me, can be solved by adding the scratchy slip.
“Pass?” I ask.
“Pass,” Odelia answers. “Don’t you feel awesome?”
“Awkward,” I tell her. “As in not awesome.”
“The Smile Academy kids adore you, and they’ll brighten your day. They always do, don’t they?”
“Especially Nellie,” I say. “But after today, I won’t see her anymore.”
Odelia raises that left eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what is truly making you sad? Aside from Nellie?”
I plop on my bed and the gown makes a swishy noise as it settles around me. “My parents aren’t my parents.”
“I don’t understand,” Odelia says.
“My real mother—the one who gave birth to me—didn’t want to take care of me. She, or somebody who knew her, dumped me on our doorstep shortly after I was born and left George and Ellie Baransky to raise me.”
Odelia drops her mouth wide-open. She’s frozen.
“Not a good look for a princess,” I say. “That bird may decide to perch in there instead of in your hair.”
“You found this out recently?”
I nod.
“How terrible!” Odelia shouts. “And yet, it’s another thing we have in common besides our matching middle names. I’ve also been raised by someone other than my parents.”
“I would have had a different life if my real parents raised me,” I say.
“And I would’ve had a different one if my parents had lived. But, Bernice, things have turned out fine for us.”
“My parents had a choice. Yours didn’t. Can you tell me how they died?”
While I wait for her to answer, I slip on the candy “ruby” ring from my shoebox and take a lick. It’s disgusting, but I keep licking it anyway.
Odelia swallows hard. “I was one and a half when my mother and father passed away. Serena says that my mother died of a ‘womanly problem.’ She’s never told me the details. My father died of a broken heart, shortly thereafter. I should know more, but I don’t.”
“I should know more, too,” I say. “All I know is that my middle name, Rose, is also my mother’s middle name. Other than that, I have no idea who I am.”
“Whoever you are, Bernice Rose,” Odelia says, taking both my hands in hers, carefully avoiding my sticky ring, “I, Odelia Rose, think you’re amazing. Your plight has made me realize that I don’t want to live in the dark about my mother and father’s death any longer. I have to find out what Serena has never told me.”
“I feel like I’m still in the dark. It’d be nice if both of us got some answers. No one dumps me on a doorstep and gets away with it.”
Odelia and I walk to Smile Academy. Truth is, I’m walking; Odelia’s dodging the sparrow that’s flitting around her like an annoying mosquito. She’s humming a catchy tune, and I can’t help but hum along with her. She may be a weirdo at times, but she’s become my weirdo friend. I’m glad she moved in across the street this summer.
The entire academy has storybook kingdom decorations. In the large playroom, castle turrets have been painted on long pieces of paper and hang from the blackboards. A three-foot stuffed dragon sits in the corner next to a greenish-blue rug that’s supposed to be the moat. Plastic fish “swim” on
