Free Me, My Elf & I by Heather Swain Page B

I’m wrong, because Bella is smiling at me.
    “Hi, Zephyr,” she says sweetly and I’m shocked that she knows my name. “Anybody sitting here?” She lifts my bag from the chair beside me and sits down before I can say that I’m saving the seat for Mercedes. Chelsea slinks away. “By the way . . .” Bella leans closer to me and says, “I’m completely mad about what you’re wearing!”
    “You’re mad?” I ask, my heart racing. “I didn’t mean to make anyone angry.”
    “Not that kind of mad,” she says with a little laugh. “Mad in a good way. Like crazy. You know, the Mad Hatter, mad about you, mad for chocolate. Like that.”
    “Oh, well, thanks,” I sputter, because I’m so caught off guard by how nice Bella Dartagnan is being.
    “It looks handmade,” she says. “Really special.”
    “My grandmother made it, so I guess it is kind of special,” I say, and smile, thinking that maybe Bella isn’t as bad as Ari and Mercedes said.
    “It’s been the talk of every fashion victim today so you know that tomorrow a hundred girls are going to show up trying to dress exactly like you.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “But what can you do? Show an ounce of originality in this place and pretty soon even the janitors will be copying you. I gave up trying a long time ago because I got so sick of all the little Bella clones running around. Now I just show up in any old thing that’s comfortable. Jeans, flip-flops, a T-shirt, whatever.”
    When she says this, I feel silly for being so overdressed and I wish I could wear jeans and a T-shirt, too, but then I’d be copying Bella, which is exactly what she doesn’t like. “Sheesh,” I mutter half to myself. “It’s easier where I’m from. Everyone just wears the same thing.”
    “Oh God, how awful,” says Bella. “You had to wear a uniform?” Before I can explain, she’s on to a different topic. “Have you done an audition before?” she asks me while flipping through her info packet.
    “No,” I admit.
    “You picked a great first one. This guy, Mr. O’Donnell, is a total sweetheart. So easygoing and nice. I’ve worked with him a bunch. Some of the casting agents that show up here are such assholes.”
    Now I feel even worse for giving Mr. O’Donnell a heat wave. What a stupid, stupid thing to do in front of all these people! I could get myself in so much trouble. I also feel bad for assuming that Bella is evil and that she doesn’t like me. My parents have always told us that people who are unkind are usually just uninformed and intimidated by what they don’t understand. Not that Bella would ever be intimidated by me, but maybe the other day when she was so mean, it was because she didn’t know me. Plus I did take her by surprise when I plopped my tray down in front of her and made her boyfriend laugh. I don’t really know what it feels like to be confronted by an outsider. So maybe my parents are right—if I’m kind to her and show her my true self, she will be kind to me and show me her true self.
    “My friends told me that you’re a super-successful actress. I bet you’ve worked really hard at it,” I say.
    Bella watches me for a few seconds as if uncertain, but then she says, “You’re right, I do work hard. Most people around here don’t understand that. They think I get all my acting gigs by magic.” I snort a little laugh when she says this because, believe me, if magic worked like that, I wouldn’t be sitting in this audition either. “But the truth is,” Bella continues, “I’ve been working my butt off since I was six years old.”
    As I listen to Bella, I kind of like her. My dad says that erlders are different than elves because they have all kinds of different personalities rolled up into one. He says you have to get to know the whole person before you decide what they’re really like, but they’ll only show you one side at a time. So maybe how she acted in the cafeteria and on her blog is only one side of