Page 2 of Barbie: Dreamscape

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.