Page 3 of Barbie: Dreamscape

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.

Fate Is Final

“Staring at your breakfast isn’t going to make it dessert, Barbie.”

Maybe not. But wouldn’t that be nice? I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at my bowl of pink puffed cereal for more than a few seconds, spoon floating halfway between the bowl and my mouth.

I was thinking about that dream from this morning again. Irritation rolls through me like thunder rudely interrupting a summer day. Anxiety, I’ve decided, is not for me. I’m going to banish it from my life immediately.

I take a hearty bite of cereal, the strawberry flavor instantly brightening my mood.

Robin and I have started our day together with breakfast in her office since as early as I can remember. While other Swancrest students begin dorming only for the final few years of our schooling, for me, Swancrest has always been home. My entire life has been contained within its hallowed halls—so many hours spent in this very room, playing, then studying, while Robin worked.

The fact that she eats her meals at her desk might be the ultimate sign that she has no sense of work-life balance (is there even such a thing?), but to me, it’s just another reason I’d do anything to not disappoint her.

Her entire life is devoted to others. Robin is the only person in Heartland born with magic—and she’s used it to make all our lives easier. Her selflessness is why she has been blessed by the Fates with the most important of roles in Heartland: As Headmistress, she’s in charge of making sure all the students of Swancrest are prepared to receive their futures on Boxing Day. It’s important work—the perfect balance of our land depends on everyone being trained for the role that the Fates determine they’re meant to have in our society. Everyone has a purpose. It’s why Heartland runs so smoothly.

Robin’s work ethic has always inspired mine. The day I started school, I began studying in here, sitting in the heart-shaped chair in front of her, both of us working hard in companionable silence.

Now, she stares at me from across her desk, one arched brow raised. Even though she wears pink as I do, the rest of her office is made up of different shades of wood, from light cedar to the rich mahogany of her stately furniture, interrupted only by the glow cast from the pink staff she funnels her magic through.

Robin softens. “Breakfast doesn’t become dessert…” She gives her closest approximation to a smile. “Unless you’re me, of course.”

The light from the staff leaning beside her glows brighter, and in a cloud of glitter, my bowl of cereal transforms into my favorite food—miniature heart-shaped donuts with pink frosting and sprinkles.

“Breaking your own rules?” I ask, and pop one of the miniature treats into my mouth. Robin has rules that she always follows—and that she taught me. One of them is that breakfast should be nutritious, to give me the energy I need to be my best that day, which is why my cereal is made with oats for energy and always accompanied by slices of strawberries. “Not that I’m complaining, of course,” I say, speaking around a mouthful of dusted sugar.

Robin throws back her shoulders, straightening her already stick-straight posture. Her dark hair is immaculately swept back in an elegant chignon. “Well, it’s your last day of school. Tomorrow’s Boxing Day. That’s reason enough for celebration.”