The Return: Disney Lands (7 page)

“P
HILBY CALLED
,” A
MANDA
told Jess
across a lunch
table bearing two orange trays from the Team Disney commissary. As they spoke, Jess squeezed a piece of packaged California roll between disposable chopsticks; Amanda wolfed down penne pasta with
rotisserie chicken and Parmesan.

“And?” Jess asked, knowing by Amanda’s tone that it was something important to the Keepers—and nothing personal. If it were personal, Finn would
have been the one to call
Amanda.

“He needs our help. It’s for Finn, he said. Research.”

“Spying?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Amanda shook her head, brow furrowed in confusion. “He wants me—us?—to dig into the early work of the Imagineers’ involvement
with television. He says it’s not stuff the Archives would have. But he thinks we’ll find it here. White papers, they’re called.”

Here
was the Disney School of Imagineering, which operated out of the Team Disney building, located just behind a towering wall separating a backstage area from Disneyland’s
Toontown. Few of the Team Disney Cast Members knew of the school’s existence. It had its own entrance, and the college-age students coming and going were easily mistaken for Cast Members.
Those familiar with the school
called it “DSI.”

Enrollment at DSI hovered around one hundred and fifty. DSI students ate lunch in two shifts in their own commissary.

Amanda Lockhart and Jess Lockhart, two of the newly enrolled students, were sometimes thought to be sisters despite their differing looks. Amanda, olive-skinned and vaguely Asian around the
eyes, stood five-foot-eight and was full figured. Jess’s complexion
was pale. Her white hair (not blond), made her witch-like and odd. She could have used a few inches and a few pounds. Both
pretty in their own right, the two girls carried an air of mystery and beguiling self-confidence. They’d learned the art of survival at an early age. Jessica, who had no clear birth identity,
had adopted Amanda’s last name after the two escaped a secure research facility
that pretended to be a boarding school. There they’d been used as guinea pigs by a shadowy organization
interested in their unusual “gifts.” Barracks 14, as its young residents referred to the research facility, had been the worst and scariest years—ever. Getting out had been the
best thing either girl had accomplished. Staying out remained a challenge.

A few key Imagineers knew about
the girls’ past at Barracks 14. They had negotiated Jess’s and Amanda’s current enrollment in DSI, and were helping keep their location
confidential.

“Philby needs the full history of television in the park and in the company,” Amanda said now. The more fiery of the two, she displayed great passion for things that interested her
and paid little attention to the rest. She’d helped the Kingdom
Keepers rescue Jess from the clutches of Maleficent by deploying her “special talent,” telekinesis. She could
physically move almost anything without touching it. A simple “push” of her arms, driven by a focused intention—anger, fear, hatred—and she could move chairs, close doors,
break windows.

“Well, at least he’s not asking for much,” snapped Jess, emitting a high-pitched hiss like
a tire losing air. “The full history of TV? That sounds like a PhD
thesis.”

“Philby says the Imagineers keep a stash of files off-site in the dorm. It’s the stuff they don’t want students to find or others to see. Old exams. Legal stuff.”

“What happened to him coming here himself? He’s already been accepted. He can do it in a couple weeks.”

“I think it’s about timing at this point.
He needs us. Finn needs us.”

“Mandy, I wouldn’t trade our time with the Keepers for anything. You know that. But it’s over. I’m not going to keep battling villains that don’t exist anymore.
Finn…since Wayne…he’s paranoid. He has issues, Mandy. This kind of thing is not going to help.”

Amanda sat back in her chair, set down her fork. Jess knew her well enough to see she was withdrawing
into herself. “He needs me,” she said softly.

“I like it here. I’d like to stay enrolled.”

“It’s Philby asking, not Finn. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does. But this school is by far the coolest thing we’ve ever done, or ever could do. Wrap your mind around that: we’re being paid to learn about all the coolest
stuff Disney has ever done. Why risk it?”

“Wrap
your mind around this: why are you and I students here? Because we helped the Keepers. Because we’re their friends. And because of them, we happen to know a lot of important
people in the company. That’s why we were offered this in the first place.”

“I just…I don’t want to be the oddball anymore,” Jess said, her voice growing soft. “We’ve been called witches, spooks, freaks, and aliens.
I’m not
naive, Mandy—the other students here will eventually realize what we can do. But I don’t want to do anything—anything!—to make that happen faster. I want to just start over
as a normal girl. We’ve talked about this, Mandy. You want it as much as I do.”

“I do,” Amanda confessed. “It’s true. I want all that and more. Friendships that last. A room I can actually call mine—ours! A
chance to go to movies and malls and
do the stuff we’ve never done.”

“DSI is going to make that stuff happen.”

Amanda nodded, though sadly.

“One phone call from Philby changes that?”

Amanda’s pained expression cut at Jess like a knife. “He needs us, Jess. He saved you. Now we’ve got to save him.”

“Do not guilt-trip me.”

“They found a message in Wayne’s apartment. Finn
crossed over and weird things happened to him. Philby won’t say exactly what, but he obviously thinks it has to do with the
Imagineers’ early experiments with television. It’s a couple of folders. That’s all he needs.”

“I will not get myself expelled, even for Philby or Finn.”

“He’s our friend.”

“Of course he is! I’m not arguing that. I love them all. Really. As in, love them. Finn,
too. But you’re in deep with him, way too deep. We’re moving on here, Mandy.
I’m not saying we can’t have them as friends. That’s always and forever. But we can’t risk this chance that’s been given to us. We jumped ahead of thousands of kids on
a list. Kids who would do anything to be Imagineers. Do not mess this up.”

“Philby said Becky Cline told him about the Imagineer stuff. She mentioned
the dorm library.”

“The Tower library?” Jess sat back, her face thoughtful. “That’s different. That’s a public space. Getting in there is no problem.”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

“You know it’s not. It always starts with something like this,” Jess said. “Right? A message. A clue. And it gets out of hand. I’m not going there. I will not lose
this chance.”

“We’re not going to take
anything. We’re not going to steal or…whatever. We’re just going to look around for a couple of books in the library.”

An older girl crossed the commissary, heading toward them at a brisk pace. Both girls took notice. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, stretching skin riddled with acne.

“Which one’s Amanda?” the girl asked, giving them a bright smile.

Amanda raised her hand cautiously.

“Peggy wants to see you.”

“Peggy?”

“Victoria Llewelyn. Don’t ask me why she’s called Peggy! She’s the first year adviser. All first years get reviewed. It’s kinda random when it happens. You’ll
like her.”

Amanda looked over at Jess. Her eyes said,
Please
.

Jess nodded, but a frown contorted her face.

“I
DON
’
T MEAN TO BE RUDE
, but I thought
I’d
already been accepted into the program.” Amanda took in the officious looking, cinnamon-skinned woman sitting before her. Peggy had soft jowls, a high hairline, and a lovely Caribbean accent.
The well-lit office, with its rainbow colored carpet squares and a stainless steel and glass desk, was personalized with a custom monthly wall calendar showing either grandchildren or nieces and
nephews on a playground. A Magic 8-Ball and a row of five trophies of faux-bronzed knitting needles and plastic yarn balls occupied an oddly placed half-length shelf.

The back of Peggy’s computer terminal had been dusted recently; the wires, gathered in colorful plastic ties reminiscent of a horsetail braid, ran to the floor, where they stretched toward
outlets and other connected gear.

“We conduct periodic reviews.” Peggy had a voice like a bass fiddle.

“It’s so soon, though.”

“Some of our students show early promise.”

“You’re just saying that, right?”

“Don’t you think you’re doing well?” She clicked her mechanical pencil absentmindedly. It hovered threateningly over a legal pad on a slanted binder; the angle prevented
Amanda from seeing what Peggy was writing.

“I guess I’m doing all right.”

“You have an unusual ability,” Peggy said. “Have you used it since you joined us?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why haven’t you used your gift? This is a program for the gifted.”

“Not my kind of gifted,” Amanda said.

“Because?”

“Does it say somewhere in there what I do?” Amanda asked. “Because I don’t think you’d say that if you
knew.”

“Are you embarrassed by your telekinetic powers?”

Amanda swallowed dryly. The woman knew! “Look, when I was ten, I slammed a door without touching it. After that, I could move couches. Dressers. Chairs with people sitting in them. I was
living with an unmarried aunt who couldn’t ‘handle me.’ That year, I was sent to a ‘school’”—she drew the air quotes—“that just happened to get
regular visits from people in suits and uniforms. There was no talk of our rights. They made me perform like a circus animal. Embarrassed? Sure. Humiliated. Afraid of myself and what I might do by
accident. I’ve learned to control my gift, but it’s really hard sometimes. I’ve tried meditation, prayer, you name it. The point being: I’m trying to stop. I’m trying
to blend in for a change.”

“We don’t hire those who blend in, Amanda. We hire those who stand out.”

“O…kay. So that means…?”

“Be yourself. The real you. Nothing more. Don’t hide. That’s all we ask.”

“I break things.” Amanda sat forward, her hands clenched tightly between her knees. She met Peggy’s eyes, trying to convince her, to make her see. “I can hurt
people.”

“You are as unique as any of our students.
No more, no less.”

“That would be a first.”

“Believe it. We have young painters, audio technicians, creative thinkers, dietitians, performers…even a telekinetic.” Peggy smiled. Amanda also caught herself grinning.

“And women who are very good at winning the confidence of girls who sit across from them. Psychologist?”

Peggy’s eyes sparkled. “And girls who are practiced in turning
the conversation away from themselves.”

“There’s been no reason,” Amanda said. “To move things. I call it
pushing.
But I don’t need to push. I feel safe here in Imagineering school.”

“You shouldn’t,” Peggy said calmly. “Of the one hundred and thirty-seven students enrolled this semester, less than half will eventually be invited to work with the
Imagineers. Fewer than twenty will join
more elite departments.”

“What?” Amanda felt the icy sting of shock. She and Jess could be dropped before they’d even really begun? “We haven’t been told any of this.”

“I’m telling you now. I ask you not to broadcast it.”

“But why? To scare me? ’Cause you’re doing a decent job of that.”

“It’s not my intention, I assure you. This is meant to be motivation.”

“Because I’m a freak,
and you want to determine if the freak can control herself.”

“I hope you don’t believe that.” The woman’s total conviction had won Amanda’s attention, slipped right past her careful defenses. “A person with unusual
abilities is not an unusual person. Don’t confuse the two. We, all of us, have individual talents. Some we share. Some we hide. I’m telling you—as I will tell the others with
high
aptitude—that certain opportunities are limited. Don’t hide your talents. We have a song in the stage adaptation of Mary Poppins about reaching for the stars. I suggest you download
it.”