The Return: Disney Lands Page 5

  A few key Imagineers knew about the girls’ past at Barracks 14. They had negotiated Jess’s and Amanda’s current enrollment in DSI, and were helping keep their location confidential.

  “Philby needs the full history of television in the park and in the company,” Amanda said now. The more fiery of the two, she displayed great passion for things that interested her and paid little attention to the rest. She’d helped the Kingdom Keepers rescue Jess from the clutches of Maleficent by deploying her “special talent,” telekinesis. She could physically move almost anything without touching it. A simple “push” of her arms, driven by a focused intention—anger, fear, hatred—and she could move chairs, close doors, break windows.

  “Well, at least he’s not asking for much,” snapped Jess, emitting a high-pitched hiss like a tire losing air. “The full history of TV? That sounds like a PhD thesis.”

  “Philby says the Imagineers keep a stash of files off-site in the dorm. It’s the stuff they don’t want students to find or others to see. Old exams. Legal stuff.”

  “What happened to him coming here himself? He’s already been accepted. He can do it in a couple weeks.”

  “I think it’s about timing at this point. He needs us. Finn needs us.”

  “Mandy, I wouldn’t trade our time with the Keepers for anything. You know that. But it’s over. I’m not going to keep battling villains that don’t exist anymore. Finn…since Wayne…he’s paranoid. He has issues, Mandy. This kind of thing is not going to help.”

  Amanda sat back in her chair, set down her fork. Jess knew her well enough to see she was withdrawing into herself. “He needs me,” she said softly.

  “I like it here. I’d like to stay enrolled.”

  “It’s Philby asking, not Finn. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does. But this school is by far the coolest thing we’ve ever done, or ever could do. Wrap your mind around that: we’re being paid to learn about all the coolest stuff Disney has ever done. Why risk it?”

  “Wrap your mind around this: why are you and I students here? Because we helped the Keepers. Because we’re their friends. And because of them, we happen to know a lot of important people in the company. That’s why we were offered this in the first place.”

  “I just…I don’t want to be the oddball anymore,” Jess said, her voice growing soft. “We’ve been called witches, spooks, freaks, and aliens. I’m not naive, Mandy—the other students here will eventually realize what we can do. But I don’t want to do anything—anything!—to make that happen faster. I want to just start over as a normal girl. We’ve talked about this, Mandy. You want it as much as I do.”

  “I do,” Amanda confessed. “It’s true. I want all that and more. Friendships that last. A room I can actually call mine—ours! A chance to go to movies and malls and do the stuff we’ve never done.”

  “DSI is going to make that stuff happen.”

  Amanda nodded, though sadly.

  “One phone call from Philby changes that?”

  Amanda’s pained expression cut at Jess like a knife. “He needs us, Jess. He saved you. Now we’ve got to save him.”

  “Do not guilt-trip me.”

  “They found a message in Wayne’s apartment. Finn crossed over and weird things happened to him. Philby won’t say exactly what, but he obviously thinks it has to do with the Imagineers’ early experiments with television. It’s a couple of folders. That’s all he needs.”

  “I will not get myself expelled, even for Philby or Finn.”

  “He’s our friend.”

  “Of course he is! I’m not arguing that. I love them all. Really. As in, love them. Finn, too. But you’re in deep with him, way too deep. We’re moving on here, Mandy. I’m not saying we can’t have them as friends. That’s always and forever. But we can’t risk this chance that’s been given to us. We jumped ahead of thousands of kids on a list. Kids who would do anything to be Imagineers. Do not mess this up.”

  “Philby said Becky Cline told him about the Imagineer stuff. She mentioned the dorm library.”

  “The Tower library?” Jess sat back, her face thoughtful. “That’s different. That’s a public space. Getting in there is no problem.”

  “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “You know it’s not. It always starts with something like this,” Jess said. “Right? A message. A clue. And it gets out of hand. I’m not going there. I will not lose this chance.”

  “We’re not going to take anything. We’re not going to steal or…whatever. We’re just going to look around for a couple of books in the library.”

  An older girl crossed the commissary, heading toward them at a brisk pace. Both girls took notice. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, stretching skin riddled with acne.

  “Which one’s Amanda?” the girl asked, giving them a bright smile.

  Amanda raised her hand cautiously.

  “Peggy wants to see you.”

  “Peggy?”

  “Victoria Llewelyn. Don’t ask me why she’s called Peggy! She’s the first year adviser. All first years get reviewed. It’s kinda random when it happens. You’ll like her.”

  Amanda looked over at Jess. Her eyes said, Please.

  Jess nodded, but a frown contorted her face.

  “I DON’T MEAN TO BE RUDE, but I thought I’d already been accepted into the program.” Amanda took in the officious looking, cinnamon-skinned woman sitting before her. Peggy had soft jowls, a high hairline, and a lovely Caribbean accent. The well-lit office, with its rainbow colored carpet squares and a stainless steel and glass desk, was personalized with a custom monthly wall calendar showing either grandchildren or nieces and nephews on a playground. A Magic 8-Ball and a row of five trophies of faux-bronzed knitting needles and plastic yarn balls occupied an oddly placed half-length shelf.

  The back of Peggy’s computer terminal had been dusted recently; the wires, gathered in colorful plastic ties reminiscent of a horsetail braid, ran to the floor, where they stretched toward outlets and other connected gear.

  “We conduct periodic reviews.” Peggy had a voice like a bass fiddle.

  “It’s so soon, though.”

  “Some of our students show early promise.”

  “You’re just saying that, right?”

  “Don’t you think you’re doing well?” She clicked her mechanical pencil absentmindedly. It hovered threateningly over a legal pad on a slanted binder; the angle prevented Amanda from seeing what Peggy was writing.

  “I guess I’m doing all right.”

  “You have an unusual ability,” Peggy said. “Have you used it since you joined us?”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Why haven’t you used your gift? This is a program for the gifted.”

  “Not my kind of gifted,” Amanda said.

  “Because?”

  “Does it say somewhere in there what I do?” Amanda asked. “Because I don’t think you’d say that if you knew.”

  “Are you embarrassed by your telekinetic powers?”

  Amanda swallowed dryly. The woman knew! “Look, when I was ten, I slammed a door without touching it. After that, I could move couches. Dressers. Chairs with people sitting in them. I was living with an unmarried aunt who couldn’t ‘handle me.’ That year, I was sent to a ‘school’”—she drew the air quotes—“that just happened to get regular visits from people in suits and uniforms. There was no talk of our rights. They made me perform like a circus animal. Embarrassed? Sure. Humiliated. Afraid of myself and what I might do by accident. I’ve learned to control my gift, but it’s really hard sometimes. I’ve tried meditation, prayer, you name it. The point being: I’m trying to stop. I’m trying to blend in for a change.”

  “We don’t hire those who blend in, Amanda. We hire those who stand out.”

  “O…kay. So that means…?”

  “Be yourself. The real you. Nothing more. Don’t hide. That’s all we
ask.”

  “I break things.” Amanda sat forward, her hands clenched tightly between her knees. She met Peggy’s eyes, trying to convince her, to make her see. “I can hurt people.”

  “You are as unique as any of our students. No more, no less.”

  “That would be a first.”

  “Believe it. We have young painters, audio technicians, creative thinkers, dietitians, performers…even a telekinetic.” Peggy smiled. Amanda also caught herself grinning.

  “And women who are very good at winning the confidence of girls who sit across from them. Psychologist?”

  Peggy’s eyes sparkled. “And girls who are practiced in turning the conversation away from themselves.”

  “There’s been no reason,” Amanda said. “To move things. I call it pushing. But I don’t need to push. I feel safe here in Imagineering school.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Peggy said calmly. “Of the one hundred and thirty-seven students enrolled this semester, less than half will eventually be invited to work with the Imagineers. Fewer than twenty will join more elite departments.”

  “What?” Amanda felt the icy sting of shock. She and Jess could be dropped before they’d even really begun? “We haven’t been told any of this.”

  “I’m telling you now. I ask you not to broadcast it.”

  “But why? To scare me? ’Cause you’re doing a decent job of that.”

  “It’s not my intention, I assure you. This is meant to be motivation.”

  “Because I’m a freak, and you want to determine if the freak can control herself.”

  “I hope you don’t believe that.” The woman’s total conviction had won Amanda’s attention, slipped right past her careful defenses. “A person with unusual abilities is not an unusual person. Don’t confuse the two. We, all of us, have individual talents. Some we share. Some we hide. I’m telling you—as I will tell the others with high aptitude—that certain opportunities are limited. Don’t hide your talents. We have a song in the stage adaptation of Mary Poppins about reaching for the stars. I suggest you download it.”

  “You know everything about me,” Amanda said. “I just realized that.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “You’re trying to help me.” Peggy nodded. Amanda’s voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Thank you. But what if the me you’re trying to help doesn’t love the me that has to do with my ‘talent’?”

  “What you and Jessica have been through has matured you well beyond others your age.” Peggy sat back at her desk, carefully considering Amanda. “Your experiences qualify you uniquely for our advanced placement track. It’s my job to let you know these opportunities are yours for the taking. I won’t try to sell you one way or the other. Each of us must weigh our own worth—to others, and to ourselves.”

  She leaned in slightly. Amanda took a deep breath. It felt as if there was very little air in the room.

  “I can see you don’t fully trust me,” Peggy said softly. “I’d like to work with you on that.”

  “It’s not just you, if that’s any consolation. In my experience, grown-ups and guardians tend to say one thing and do another. I believe it’s called hypocrisy.”

  “A lack of moral fiber. I would venture to say you won’t find that here. Not in the company as a whole, and certainly not in the Imagineers. The company, the Kingdom as you and your friends call it, is in our hands. The direction, the future of the stories we tell in our parks. It’s a huge responsibility. Do we always get it right? No. But that’s why new blood, new minds are so important to our longevity.”

  “I’m hoping the blood part is behind us. We lost a friend, you know.” Amanda’s voice caught, remembering Finn’s pain, remembering her own. “And we lost Wayne Kresky. A boy named Dillard. That’s enough blood for a very long time.”

  “As I said,” Peggy reminded, “your experiences have put you in a unique position.”

  “I don’t know,” Amanda whispered.

  “Well, that’s as good a place to start as any.”

  “Start what?”

  Peggy’s eyes warmed. “The rest of your life, Amanda. It’s yours for the taking.”

  THE ONCE-GLAMOROUS LOBBY of the DSI dormitory, located in a converted Anaheim hotel that gossip held served as the model for the Tower of Terror, was an unsettling mixture of brown tile, faded Oriental rugs, and sad furniture upholstered in a red fabric that looked like the material used for stage curtains. Art deco lights framed a six-foot-high black stone hearth that held illuminated, dreary potted plants. The often stale and dusty air didn’t help with allergies; the most commonly heard sound throughout the building was sneezing.

  The dorm’s alleged connection to the scary Disney attraction did little to encourage the riding of the building’s unusual “people movers.” The elevators moved horizontally as well as vertically. Students typically took the stairs.

  The ground-floor library boasted wall-to-wall shelves crammed with old leather-bound books, antique ceiling lights, and a few pieces of odd art grouped randomly on green marble-topped tables. Used for homework, research, and the occasional after-hours team meeting, the library offered anyone bold enough to visit an odd combination of cozy British great house and Disney’s Haunted Mansion. Situated directly over the boiler room responsible for supplying hot water to all seventeen floors, the library played host to a variety of unusual, unexplained sounds that unsettled or frightened away its more timid occupants.

  Amanda and Jess found their way there on a quiet Thursday night. They searched the stacks for a particular book and then, giving up, sat down in a pair of wingback chairs off in a corner.

  At the other end of the small room, an extremely tall, thin boy sat alone, his face obscured by his abundance of wild black hair. Near him were two girls, both reading.

  “So, is that him?” Jess whispered.

  “I’m not positive, but yeah, he fits the description.”

  “Remember, don’t ask me to do anything that will violate—”

  “The code of conduct. Got it. You’ve said it like a hundred times.” Having just sat down, Amanda rose and approached the two girls.

  “Hi,” she said brightly.

  “Can we help you?” The girl who’d spoken was clearly of Scandinavian descent. She had the most gorgeous head of blond hair Amanda had ever seen, prettier even than Charlene’s. Tons of it. Her high cheekbones, gleaming white teeth, and blue eyes made her look older than her friend, who looked more like a model for athletic wear.

  “I’m looking for something called Park History, 1957 through 1970,” Amanda said, holding out her hand to shake.

  “Of course. Emily Fredrikson.”

  “Amanda Lockhart.”

  “History of Audio-Animatronics, Tuesday, second period, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thought I recognized you. You prefer cotton.”

  “I’m sorry?” Amanda said.

  The girl sitting beside Emily laughed. “Em’s a fabric geek. Second year, like me. And not fashion, fabric. If she dressed you, you’d find yourself in fibers made from snails’ bacterial excretions.”

  “Unfair!” Emily said, laughing in spite of herself. “This is Tina, by the way.”

  Tina, a dark brunette with sharp blue eyes, had the complexion of a Scottish Highlander, with flushed red cheeks and fields of freckles.

  “The first couple of months are tricky,” Emily said, “but it gets better after that. Watch out for Tippy Kramer and her group. They think they’re Walt’s descendants and rightful heirs to his genius, something stupid like that.”

  “I appreciate the tip,” Amanda said, nodding.

  “Don’t try too hard, and don’t try to outsmart any of the ‘teachers.’” Emily drew air quotes around the word. “All of them are Imagineers, which makes them Disney royalty. Most of them came up through the ranks the hard way, and I think they maybe see other talented people as threats.”

  “Oh,” Amanda said.

  “Forgi
ve Emily her motherly instincts.” Tina grimaced playfully. “She has only-child issues.”

  “Whatever, Tina,” Emily said, all smiles once again. “So, what was the book?”

  Amanda tried again. “Park History?”

  Jess joined them then, and the introductions started up again. Tina recognized Jess from Old Ways in the New World—An Introduction to Original Attractions, and they exchanged some small talk about the first class.

  All the while, Emily studied Jess. “Double gauze top. Impressive. Aqua Washi?”

  Caught off guard, Jess blushed. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Amanda said.

  “About how big a fabric nerd I am,” Emily said to Jess.

  Emily caught Amanda’s eye and pointed to the tall boy. “Your book’s probably over there. If you can pry it away from Tim, you deserve it.”

  “But don’t try to pry Tim,” Tina said. “He’s Em’s.”

  “Utterly false! He thinks I’m his. There’s a big difference.”

  “One of you’s the telekinetic, right?” Tina asked. “I heard you could push.”

  Emily clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Tina can be rude and nosy. Ignore her.”

  Tina chuckled. “I may be a little short on filters, but I never lie. I heard one of you was part of the Final Battle.”

  “Is that what it’s being called?” Jess asked. “How dramatic.”

  “Neither of us is a big fan of labels,” Amanda said.

  But Tina couldn’t help herself. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Give it a break, Tina,” Emily said. “You two are obviously close. Friends from before?”

  Amanda blinked at her tone. She sounded…threatened? But why?