Note: A lot has happened since I wrote last. I was really depressed for a while, because of some personal tragedy. But I'm feeling better now. I leave for a trip in a week or so, but hopefully it'll give me inspiration to write. This fic was largely inspired by my own recent excursion to Disneyland; that place never gets old (for me, anyway).
For Kendra, who sent me a lovely package in the mail! Why does it feel so wonderful to get 'real' mail?
.
Snow White Subterfuge
.
The Lucas brothers have the theme-park experience down to a system. Yes, believe it or not, it is possible to enjoy Disneyland (and other tween-infested locations) without too many incidents of screaming, hyperventilating, clawing and camera-clicking.
After much trial and error, the boys have finally narrowed down the process:
Step 1: Don't appear as though you've got something to hide. People react to secrecy, not normalcy. That means no hoodies or sunglasses. No wigs, prosthetics or facial hair. Just look like you belong. Act like an average Joe (no pun intended) and you won't get so much as a second glance.
Step 2: Avoid eye contact with anyone not yet old enough to operate heavy machinery. If you stare at a tween girl long enough, she will feel it. And the moment she looks into your dark-chocolate irises, she will recognize you. (In other words, the screaming fangirl breakdown will commence.) So save yourself the trouble and look away.
Step 3: Separate. This last rule is imperative. In all honesty, fans have a kind of spidey-sense for members of their favorite band in numbers of two or more. But one Lucas brother is much less easily indentified than three in close proximity to each other.
It's because of 'step three' that Nick finds himself alone in line for Thunder Mountain Railroad.
Kevin and Stella are riding Buzz Lightyear over and over again in some ridiculous contest to see who can beat the high score (Nick's money's on Stella; she's unstoppable). And last he heard, Macy, Frankie and Joe were waiting for Peter Pan's Flight. The line for that one never fails to wrap around for eons.
.
"Well if it isn't the musical genius himself."
Nick stiffened. Great. Of all the people. He gritted his teeth and managed a curt reply. "Fiona."
She flicks her tousled blond curls behind her, sending him a glare.
They hadn't exactly parted on good terms.
Like a fame-whoring parasite, she'd romantically attached herself to Joe and refused to let go. It was only thanks to Macy (and a very embarrassing high school yearbook photo) that they were able to give her the ax.
She didn't seem like much of a threat now, with purple Mickey Mouse ears on—but Nick knew better. Fiona Skye made a habit of trying to appear less than intelligent—imaging herself after the stereotypical bleach blonde airhead—when really, she was a manipulating genius, and a sly one at that. Nick wasn't going to let his guard down.
But he couldn't resist a little dig. "I'm surprised you haven't come up with an elaborate hoax to get you to the front of the line. No wheelchair or falsified handicap placard? You're getting rusty, Fiona."
She rolled her eyes. "I could easily maneuver myself to the front of the line, if I so desired. But where would the irony be in that? It isn't Disneyland if you don't have to spend forever waiting for a two-minute attraction."
She was right about that. But Nick didn't say so. It was best not to let people like Fiona Skye know you agreed with them.
An awkward silence proceeded, the kind caused by the fact that you wouldn't normally be caught dead sharing oxygen with this person, but are thrown together out of circumstance (i.e. not getting to walk away if you still want to ride the rollercoaster).
Her hot pink phone rang loudly and she turned away from him to answer it.
"Where are you?" she asked, her tone hushed. "I'm saving a spot for you in line."
Nick couldn't hear what the person on the other end said, which was kind of annoying. Not that he cared about Fiona Skye's personal life, he just didn't like not being in the know. He liked when mysteries, even small ones, were tied up neatly in organized rows.
She took a deep breath-slash-sigh and said "Whatever, I'll see you at dinner," punching her manicured nail into the 'hang up' button.
Nick resisted the urge to contribute another sarcastic remark. If he spoke again she might think they needed to start talking again, and he didn't think either of them wanted that.
While Nick liked to keep his gaze focused on things—the rock formations, and gold mining props, Fiona made no qualms about staring openly at people.
He saw her smile at a little girl with pig tails who was wiping her nose with her palm, and roll her eyes at the numerous pairs of bored (and thus overly touchy) couples.
After a while it was hard, even for Nick, to ignore one family in line. The little boy, who couldn't have been more than five, was screaming like his life was on the line.
"No, Daddy, Please!" Only the please came out like a broken screech, interrupted by small sobs. "I don't want to ride!"
"You're going to ride, and you're going to like it." The father had his son gripped by the sweatshirt and was trying to speak in low tones, but Nick could hear the agitation in his voice.
It went on like that forever. The son pleading, screaming not to go, and the father stubbornly scolding him. "Micah, stop it, right now. You're making a scene."
By this time, everyone in line was irritated. It was pretty hard not to be, when you hear this poor little boy crying for help.
Fiona broke their mutually agreed silence with some colorful words to describe the father. "Did he miss the sign when you walk in that says 'Don't make your little bears ride if they don't want to'? Poor kid's going to be traumatized after this."
Nick didn't like jumping to unnecessary conclusions. He knew what if felt like to be summed up and judged based on one comment or action. "We don't know the whole story, maybe the kid's been grouchy all day and the dad knows it's his favorite ride."
"Does that guy sound like he cares about anyone but himself? No, he won't leave the line because it would mean losing face in front of all these people. For some reason little boys are always told to 'toughen up,' like it's wrong for them to be afraid or have feelings. No wonder they grow up to be screwed up, dysfunctional men."
The couple in front of Nick agreed. He heard them whispering that "Disney should do something." But he wasn't sure what a Castmember* could do that wouldn't make things escalate. Parents do not like being told what to do with their kids (no one likes to be told what to do, do they?), especially after paying seventy-something bucks each to get them in.
Fiona's gaze hardened and she moved out of line.
Nick tried to stop her. "What are you doing? This isn't your business."
"Don't worry about me, Lucas, I know what I'm doing."
"You could get hu--"
She didn't even turn to acknowledge him. But to Nick's surprise she didn't pause at father and son in question, just walked away entirely.
Huh. Nick figured she just couldn't handle the noise any longer and went to get a Castmember or something.
But that was not what she did.
.
Five minutes later, Snow White comes trotting down the line for Thunder Mountain railroad, stopping right smack in front of screaming kid and angry dad.
She cupped her hand to her mouth. "Oh my!"
The kid stopped, looking up at her wide eyed.
"I know you," she said, in a singsong voice. "You're just the boy I'm looking for. Micah, right?"
The stream of tears had made little red lines down his cheeks, but he sniffled and asked, just to be sure, "You're looking for me?"
"Yes, you've won a ride on the tea cups with me. Do you like the tea cups?"
He nods his head.
"Excellent! Let's go!" Snow White took the little boy by the hand and led him away. Nick saw her turn around and send a death glare to the boy's father, adding, "Be a doll and get me a decaf cappuccino, and maybe some Zoloft for yourself."
The father was too stunned to say anything, but he followed numbly from behind.
People applauded as they left, and the couple in front of Nick snickered that "that scene was worth the price of admission. Talk about Disney magic."
.
Nick excused himself from the line, walking over sunbaked tiles to get to from Adventureland to Fantasyland. He bought a three dollar bag of blue cotton candy and watched from a distance as Snow White finished on the tea cups, posed for pictures with a set of twins, and covertly snuck into the ladies restroom. Two minutes later, Fiona Skye's Mouse ears were atop her head and she was shoving a black wig into her backpack.
Nick came up from behind her and she jumped, startled.
He snickered. "I never knew Snow White had an alter ego."
She scoffed, regaining her composure. "There's a lot of things you don't know, Lucas."
He offered her his cotton candy and she tore off a piece.
Smacking her lips, she said, "Turns out my dinner plans are a bust. Daddy's still in the hotel, working on some business merger."
"Feel like some company?"
They turned the corner and Nick miss-stepped, tripping in front of a group of girls all wearing bright red shirts. A middle school band. Oh dear.
The girls laughed at first and then quieted, studying Nick closely. If nothing else, the deer-in-the–headlights look he gave them confirmed his JONAS identity.
"Um, sorry," he said, backing away. He could sense the approaching mania, but there was nothing to be done. Hopefully his clothes would survive the attack.
Suddenly Fiona grabbed the cotton candy from him and flung it at the girls. "Look! Candy that touched Nick's lips!"
The girls went at it like a starving mob. Before the smarter girls could lunge for him, Fiona had Nick by the sleeve and dragged him along through the castle courtyard. "Normally, I'm not this generous, but I'm in a good mood today. Ever heard of Club 33?"
"Nope."
"Let's just say, it's the one place in Disneyland I can guarantee you'll have a measure of privacy. I've even got reservations for two. Just promise me you won't break into song, alright? I can only handle so much screeching in a day."
Nick rolled his eyes but followed her lead down the back roads of New Orleans. "I'm just surprised you don't have poison apples in that bag of yours."
"Don't be so sure, Nick. Don't be so sure."
He looked at her, eyebrow raised. And she stared back, mocking his gaze. But neither held the stare very long, busting up laughing instead.
"Admit it, I had you there for a second."
"You're imagining things."
*Castmembers is the Disney lingo for park employees.