"Ribbit! Ribbit! Wake up!" I shouted, shaking him as hard as I could. He blinked a few times without actually opening his eyes and flung his arm over his forehead. "The bus is moving!" I yelled at him, my voice all screechy.
164
"It does that sometimes," he said groggily. Then he rolled over onto his side and started snoring again.
I had never been so angry in my entire life. Not even at Ingrid that time she stole my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos and then kicked one into the lake on the back property when she was trying to imitate Moulin Rouge. I glanced at my watch and my heart dropped. It was already 10 a.m. According to our deal, Julia was supposed to be leaving for home right now. Had she done it already? Had she blown my cover?
Oh God. I am going to be under twenty-four-hour surveillance for the rest of my life, I realized.
I stood up and banged my head into a cabinet above me so hard I swear it left a dent. Wincing in pain, I stumbled toward the flimsy door, the movement of the bus causing me to lose my footing more than once, and yanked the paper-thin partition aside.
Everyone on the bus was sleeping. Men lay on top of women. Women drooled on men's shoulders. One guy had fallen asleep facedown with his nose stuck between the strings of his guitar, pointing down into the little hole. I stumbled toward the front of the bus and found Crazy Dave at the wheel.
"Dave! You have to stop the bus!"
He looked up at me, startled, and swerved into oncoming traffic. Some guy in a blue car slammed on his horn and veered off the road to avoid us.
"You scared me, little lady," he said. "And that's not easy to do."
"Please, Dave," I said, trying my best to be patient. "You have to let me off this thing."
165
"I don't think so, Jules," he replied, shaking his head. "If I let you off here, one of three things will happen-- you'll either die from sun exposure, get eaten by coyotes, or get picked up by a bunch of guys even more indecorous than this crew."
"Indecorous?"
"Hey. I read."
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, then turn the bus around," I said. "I have to get back to Los Angeles."
That got a laugh so loud, the guy with the guitar strings up his nose flinched, letting out a dissonant twang as he yanked his face free.
"That ain't gonna happen," Crazy Dave said. "We gotta be in El Paso by tonight. We got a gig."
"El Paso?" I asked. "Where's El Paso?"
"It's in Texas, little lady," Dave said, putting on a Western movie accent.
"Texas?" I said breathlessly, falling into the nearest seat. As a dignitary, I had to be up on my world geography. And I knew Texas very well because that was the state the current president of the United States was from. So I knew too well that Texas was way far away from Los Angeles.
Okay, don't panic, I told myself. You have to call Ingrid. She'll know what to do.
I opened my messenger bag and dug around in it until I located my cell phone, which, naturally, had turned itself off overnight. Ingrid had probably been trying to call me all morning and if my phone had been on, I would have heard it, and it would have woken me up, and I wouldn't have been in this mess.
166
I turned the phone on and sure enough, it was flashing like crazy. I had ten new messages. I didn't even bother to listen to them. I quickly dialed the number of Ingrid's suite at the hotel. She picked up on the first ring.
"Carina?" she blurted.
"Ingrid, I am in so much trouble," I said.
"Where the hell are you?" she demanded.
"I fell asleep on Ribbit's bus and now I'm halfway to Texas," I told her, scrunching my eyes closed.
"Texas! Where's Texas!?"
"It's nowhere near L.A.," I replied with a sigh.
"Well, you have to get your butt back here."
"Like I don't know this," I said. "But I'm in the middle of the desert. There's no place for me to get off."
I could practically hear Ingrid's brain working. "Okay, tell the driver to let you off in the next town and then pay somebody to drive you back here."
"Great plan, except I have almost no money," I said. "Fröken Killroy gave me a little, but I never got my Vinelandish money exchanged. No one ever makes me pay for myself anyway. "
There was total silence on the other end of the line. Even Ingrid was out of ideas.
Oh God, what had I done? I had betrayed my parents, deceived Fröken Killroy, stolen away from all my security people, and gotten myself stranded in the desert. And for what? For a few sloppy kisses from a guy who'd passed out on me?
Suddenly I wished Markus were there. If he'd been with me, he'd have taken charge. He'd have made me feel
167
safe. If there was one thing Markus had going for him, it was that he was naturally noble. And smart. And levelheaded. Okay, so that was three things he had going for him. That and he would never have slobbered all over me and then fallen asleep.
"Well, how else are we going to get you back here?" Ingrid asked. "Your flight leaves at three o'clock."
"Hang on a second," I told her. I covered the mouthpiece with my palm.
"Dave, how far are we from Los Angeles?" I asked him.
"Few hours," he said. "'Bout five."
I swallowed hard, my heart sinking. There was no way I'd make it back in time. I felt my eyes start to well up with tears as I leaned back in my seat. I pinched the top of my nose between two fingers and drew in a shaky breath.
"Ingrid," I said. "You're going to have to bring an imposter back to Vineland."
168
***
Chapter 23
"Um ... Ingrid? Shouldn't Julia have called by now?" I asked as nervous sweat cemented my linen dress to my back. I was sitting in the back of Carina's limo with Fröken Killroy's beady little eyes boring a hole through my face. We'd been in the car for twenty minutes and she hadn't blinked. Not even once.
"Don't worry, she will," Ingrid said, looking down at the screen on her cell phone. Ingrid pressed a few buttons on the phone and I could tell she was typing in a text message. Trying to look as casual as possible, I craned my neck to read the screen.
she's on her way! she'll be there!
She better be, I thought as Killroy narrowed her eyes at us. I sat back in my seat and looked out the window as the familiar L.A. streets flew by. It was almost three o'clock, and I was still a princess. A very nervous, very guilt-ridden princess, and a majorly high flight risk. Every time B.B. pulled the car to a stop at a red light, I considered jumping out and running for my life. But considering the fact that Carina's security people were following along in the
169
car behind us, I guessed it probably wasn't the best idea.
Just come to the airport, Ingrid had said back at the hotel. She'll meet us there. She just... overslept.
I should have said no. This hadn't been part of our deal. I was supposed to leave the hotel at 10 a.m . exactly. But how could I turn Ingrid and Carina down after all the trouble I'd caused? So I had stupidly agreed and now I was on my way to LAX, where a charter flight was just waiting to whisk Carina off to a whole other continent. There was just a little too big of a risk factor here. If our timing was even a smidge off, Fröken Killroy was going to expect me to get on that plane. She'd probably put me in a headlock and drag me on if she had to.
"Carina," she snapped. "Don't slump."
I sat up straight and smoothed the brim of the black felt hat Ingrid had made me wear. My hair was all hidden inside of it so that when we met Carina at the airport, she could take it and hide her brown hair in it as well and no one would realize the sudden color change.
Of course, just touching the hat made me think of my mother, who was most likely freaking out right about now. She'd probably found my note, waited until ten-thirty, when I said I'd be home, and then panicked. She was probably at the Vineland Embassy right then screaming her head off at the guards.
I was so dead.
The limousine took the off-ramp for LAX and my palms started to sweat. I kept shooting Ingrid looks, but she was completely ignoring me. As we pulled up in front of the terminal, I kept my eyes peeled for Carina--for any
170
sign of a girl in dark sunglasses and a baseball cap. But she was nowhere to be found.
B.B. opened the door for me, and as I stepped out of the car, I stumbled nervously, right into his arms. I would have given anything to be back home in Venice, safe and sound, in our crappy apartment with my fleabag of a cat and my panicked mother.
As Fröken Killroy gave directions to the porters, Ingrid stepped up beside me and pressed something into my hand. When I saw it was a Vineland passport, my mouth went dry. I opened it and Carina's face smiled back at me.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" I hissed to Ingrid.
"Just give it to the lady behind the counter and she'll hand you your ticket. You can give everything to Carina when she gets here," she whispered.
I glanced around again, hoping I might have missed her the first time. Please let her be here. Please! I thought. I swear I'll never do anything dishonest again.
"Princess! Don't dillydally!" Fröken Killroy said, holding open the door for me.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the heavily air-conditioned terminal. The woman behind the counter could barely speak as she handed me my ticket. I looked down at the slip of paper and I swear, it felt like a death sentence.
The second Ingrid stepped away from the counter, I grabbed her arm and pulled her aside from the rest of the delegation.
"Where is she?" I demanded.
Ingrid snatched her hand back. "Look, as soon as she gets here, B.B. is going to honk the horn. Then you say
171
you left something in the car, you two will meet in there, and you'll switch clothes."
"Fine, but when?" I asked, my heart pounding out of control. "The plane is supposed to leave in fifteen minutes."
"Calm yourself," Ingrid said, completely unsoothingly. "If you don't stop losing it, someone is going to realize something is up."
I tried to chill. I really did. But the rest of the delegation was already lining up at the gate. Time was running out. Fast.
"I'm just going to run to the bathroom," Ingrid said suddenly, glancing past my shoulder. "I'll be right back."
Before I could even open my mouth, she'd hurried off. And then I felt a hand come down on my shoulder. My heart was in my mouth.
"Time to go, Carina," Fröken Killroy said.
"No!" I blurted. "I... Ingrid's in the bathroom!"
"No, she's not! She's right there!" Killroy said, pointing toward the gate. I turned, my stomach heaving, and saw Ingrid cutting the line of security personnel to slip onto the plane. She shot me an apologetic backward glance.
Oh my God, I thought, my vision going a little blurry. Carina isn't coming. Ingrid knows she isn't coming. They set me up!
Fröken Killroy was pulling me toward the gate and I was barely resisting. It was like I suddenly couldn't get control of my muscles. A million thoughts flooded my mind. I was being kidnapped. I was being set up to replace the princess of Vineland. Were they going to make me live out my life impersonating someone else? Had this been the plan from the beginning?
172
"Carina! What are you doing? Walk like a human being!" Killroy scolded me.
"This ... this is a mistake!" I heard myself say. "I don't belong here!"
"And that's exactly why we're taking you home, Your Highness," some random airline worker said to me with a grin, taking my ticket.
"No! I can't get on that plane!" I said, finally coming to long enough to try to pull away from Killroy.
"Daryl, Theodore--Carina is having another one of her tantrums," Fröken Killroy said, sounding bored.
Suddenly I was sandwiched in between the two impossibly strong men and basically carried onto the plane, my toes dragging along the floor.
"You people don't understand," I said, trying for a calm, rational voice but sounding more like I was having a breakdown. "I'm not Princess Carina. My name is Julia Johnson. I live in L.A."
"Right. Like the time you bought that ticket to Australia and tried to convince us that Nicole Kidman was your real mother and she wanted you back?" Daryl said sarcastically.
"Or the time we found you sneaking over the wall and you pretended you had delirium from eating bad oysters?" Theodore added, amused.
Wow. Carina really was desperate.
The two security guys dropped me in the seat next to Ingrid, who was flipping through a magazine with a bored expression on her face. Daryl even leaned in and belted me into my seat.
"Have a pleasant flight, Your Highness," he said with a
173
smirk as the plane started to move away from the gate. Then he walked off toward the back, leaving me alone with Ingrid.
"This is because of Markus, isn't it?" I said to her under my breath. "You're doing this to me because of Markus."
"Don't be so dramatic," Ingrid said. "You're gonna love Vineland."
174
***
Chapter 24
I sat in the front seat of the bus, watching the screen on my cell, waiting for an update from Ingrid. If she had somehow managed to trick Julia onto the plane to Vineland, she had bought me some time to figure out a plan. If Julia had refused to go and exposed our whole little switch, then there was probably some kind of government agency tracking me down right now.
Finally my phone beeped and a text message scrolled across the screen.
mission accomplished! we're taking off right now! i
really am sooooo good!
I let out a little sigh of relief but somehow didn't feel much better. Maybe it was because the desert was still stretching out all around me. Maybe it was because I still had no idea how I was going to get back to L.A. Maybe it was because Crazy Dave had been singing Red Hot Chili Peppers songs at the top of his lungs for the past half hour--badly.
Also, I really had to ... use the bathroom. And I was not going to go in the smelly closet thing in the back of the bus. I had to draw the line somewhere.
175
Okay, I have to tell them who I am, I thought calmly. I have no idea how I'm going to prove it, but if they believe me, they'll realize they have to take me back to L.A.
It was a flimsy plan, I knew. Unfortunately, it was the only plan I had.
I stood up, grabbing the back of my seat as the bus rumbled beneath me, and scanned the seats. I spotted Ribbit sitting toward the back with one of his guitar players, going over some new lyrics. He was wearing a blue T-shirt and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Little lines formed above his nose as he concentrated on scribbling something down in the notebook in front of him.
Two days ago the sight of Ribbit in the midst of creating would have made me all giddy and fluttery. Now all I wanted to do was shake him and scream at him for getting me into this mess.
I walked down the center aisle and paused next to Ribbit. He didn't look up. Not even when I cleared my throat.
"Ribbit, there's something I have to tell you," I said firmly.
"One sec, babe," he said, lifting his pencil at me. He scribbled something down about flaming lips and fire extinguishers. Oh, how very deep.
"Ribbit, you have to make Dave turn this bus around and take me back to L.A.," I said. Then I took a deep breath. "I'm not Julia Johnson. I'm actually Princess Carina of Vineland, and if I don't get back to my country soon, there's going to be serious trouble."
Ribbit and his guitarist looked up at me, and for one fabulous second I thought they believed me. Their eyes
176
were wide with surprise as they processed what I'd said.
Then they cracked up laughing. At me. I felt my face flame with indignation. I had had about enough of being treated like I was just some ... some regular girl. I mean, if this was how normal people treated other normal people every day, why
did anyone ever leave their homes?
"Please," Ribbit said finally. "If you're a princess, what are you doing hanging around with a bunch of losers like us?"
"That's what I'd like to know," I snapped back.
"You callin' us losers?" the guitarist said, shifting in his seat.
"He did it first!" I pointed out. Ribbit had gone back to his writing, so I crouched to the floor to try to force myself into his line of vision. "Ribbit, come on, think about it. You know I'm from Vineland and you know it was next to impossible for me to get away to come to the concert. And ... and ... I always signed my e-mails to you with a C, right? C for Carina?"
"Never really thought about it," Ribbit said, not bothering to look up from his notebook.
I let out a frustrated groan and stood. Clearly this was not going to work. And I had nothing in my bag to prove who I was. Julia had my passport. And I was carrying a wad of Vinelandish money, but that only proved I was from Vineland.
I looked around the dingy bus and realized this was my fate. I was going to be stuck with these people until they got to El Paso. But then what was I going to do--become a cowboy?
"Pit stop, folks! Let's make it quick!" Crazy Dave shouted suddenly as the bus lurched and slowed. Everyone
177
started to rouse from their seats, stretching and yawning and moaning. I looked out the window and saw a huge building looming up out of the desert like a mirage. There were dozens of trucks and buses and cars parked out front and a large sign on top of the building that read simply, Eat.
I couldn't believe it. I'd thought there was going to be nothing until we got to Texas. But if this was a restaurant, then they had bathrooms. And if they had bathrooms, then at least I could take care of one of my problems. I scurried to the front of the bus, grabbed my bag, and was out of there before anyone else had managed to get up from their seats.
I walked into the building and at least twenty big, burly men in the most stunningly awful array of plaid shirts and tattered baseball caps looked up from the tables. From the expressions on some of their faces you would think they'd never seen a female before. I held my head high and walked up to the counter, where a woman with very large hair and very pink lips was taking someone's order.