Once Upon a Time...

Part Three

For reasons even today I can't understand, I was given a double-door entrance at the ball. Everyone was quiet as I floated down the staircase, being careful not to slouch. I smiled like I was excited to be there, not only at the cameras, but also at all the people who looked up in surprise when they saw me coming. These are all the people I grew up knowing (well, most of them, anyway) because they were the people my parents would go out for dinner with, or invite over for coffee, or invite to my birthday parties. They are the directors of Disneyland in California, or Disney Hong Kong. They are the people who write the scripts for Disney Channel shows (God help them), or the men and women who come up with the genius ideas for Splash Mountain and Expedition Everest. They are all the important people, and for some reason they are all mesmerized by me. Is it the dress? Or is it because they are all realizing only now that the face of Disney has finally grown up?

I meandered around the ballroom drinking sparkling apple juice, speaking with my parents' employees. Right before dinner started, my mother pulled me over to meet some people.

"This, Amelia, is Greg and Alyssa Frank, and their son Matthew. Greg handles all the stock for the company, and is a very knowledgeable and influential man on Wall Street. The Franks are usually who your father and I turn to with any financial questions," my mom said very properly.

"Oh, well, it's a pleasure," I said, nodding as I shook their hands. I turned to meet their son, who looked about my age, when I froze.

I knew him from somewhere. Why did he look so familiar? Then it hit me: he was the twenty-fourth guy waiting in line this morning to meet me. The one I completely blew off. I swear my jaw practically hit the floor when this realization hit me. I looked back up to see that they were all staring at me curiously. I struggled to regain my footing.

"Um, it's very nice to meet you, uh, Matthew," I stumbled clumsily through the words like a toddler just learning how to speak. I was thankful that at least I remembered his name.

"It's my pleasure," he said with a charming grin as he leaned over to kiss my hand. Was it my imagination, or were his lips there just a split second too long? His eyes met mine and I think I blushed.

"Thank you for your time," my mother said with a smile. Then she dragged me away.

Her stilettos clicked on the shiny tiled floor as she led me into the lobby, which was quieting down as guests returned to their rooms for the evening.

"What was that all about?" she whispered violently, once she had determined that we were far enough away from the party to not be overheard.

I couldn't believe she was interrogating me. I waited a couple seconds before answering, "This morning there were four more guys I had to meet than usual. I was going to be late for the brunch banquet, so I left early. He was the last guy waiting, the one I didn't get a chance to meet. That's all."

My mother stared at me for a few long moments. Then she said clearly, "Thank you for that story. Now would you mind telling me the truth?"

I stared at her in disbelief. It astonished me, first off, that she didn't believe me, but also that she could read me so well.

"Fine. They started pissing me off so I left, happy? Oh yeah, and while I'm telling the truth, I fired Marc Jacobs, I ruined my Jimmy Choos, I was fifteen minutes late for golf with the Andersons, dressed in jeans for Antonio and for the suitors, and I threw away the dress Jonathon brought over this morning." Although I tried to keep my voice down, a group of guests sitting on a nearby chaise looked up with raised eyebrows. They had probably heard every word I said. My mother rubbed her forehead in humiliation.

With that, I marched through the lobby towards a small nook I had discovered when I was four. It was barely visible to anyone passing by, especially to the eyes of an overstimulated tourist. It was a place where I had guaranteed privacy.