I shook Mr. Fallon’s hand. Smiled big. “Before you interview me, I want to make sure—you can edit out anything embarrassing I might do, right?”

He waved away my comment. “Listen, you were so good, I think I’m going to throw up. It just seems like the thing to do.”

The audience laughed, and my nerves melted away.

I sat in the chair, ignored the cameras aimed in my direction, and answered his questions. It went by in a blur. There was more laughing, more clapping. He shook my hand again and said, “You’re a talented young lady. I can tell you have a great career ahead of you.”

After the show broke for commercial, Mr. Fallon gave me the thumbs up. “You just killed it in front of eight million viewers. Not bad for someone who hasn’t graduated from high school.”

He was right. This wasn’t bad at all.

The next surprise happened that night at the hotel room. My parents and I had a luxury suite, compliments of the show. I’d just taken a book out to the balcony when Jason Prescott called my phone.

“You’re alive!” he said as soon as I answered.

“Yep. Last time I checked, that was my status.”

I couldn’t tell if he was happy or just surprised. “I thought you were stuck back in the Renaissance,” he said. “I thought the fairies killed you. I’ve spent the last two days writing a song mourning your loss.”

“Sorry. Still alive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d escaped?”

“Well, I don’t have your phone number. How did you get mine?”

“I got it off the forms you filled out for America’s Top Talent.”

Oh, that’s right. I had given them my personal information.

“How did you get away?” Jason asked.

“Donovan and Chrissy came back and rescued me.”

“That’s good.” A pause. “She was hot, your fairy godmother.”

Apparently Jason was progressing just fine in falling out of love with me. “I mean,” he went on, “I never pictured fairies that way, you know?”

“I never pictured them like Chrissy, either.” I’d imagined them to be nicer. Like the harmless little old ladies in Disney movies. Chrissy, I was sure, would never use the words “Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo.”

“I felt so bad about leaving you there,” Jason said, “especially when those videos came out mocking your audition. I told the show they shouldn’t air your segment, but they said the rest of the show wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, well . . . that’s the important thing.”

He completely missed my sarcasm. “It’s their most watched episode so far. Although that might be because I was a guest judge.”

“Great.” I slouched in my chair. “Glad to hear it.”

“Anyway, I’ve been bummed because I thought you died, and then—wham—the TV starts running ads about your appearance on The Tonight Show. Totally cool. How did it go?”

“Really well. You can see it tonight.”

There was a moment of silence. I decided that meant it was time to end the call. “Well, sorry you thought I died and everything. I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”

“When is your prom?”

“What?” The change in subject was so abrupt, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.

“I promised Mr. Invisible I’d take you to prom.”

I’d forgotten about that. “No need. Donovan is taking me.”

Jason let out an offended huff. “You’d rather go with the invisible guy than me?”

“He’s my boyfriend now, and he’s not invisible anymore.” Neither of us was. “But if you want to fulfill your promise, you could sing at my prom.”

“You want me to perform while you dance with another guy?”

“It would be good publicity for you,” I pointed out. “You came off kinda mean in those viral videos. You know, famous rock star crushes poor hopeful’s dream so brutally that she’s ill on stage.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said.

“Actually it was exactly like that.”

“I gave you constructive criticism.”

“You told me I didn’t practice enough.”

“That’s constructive.”

I tapped my fingers against the chair rest. “You promised Donovan you’d do anything I asked, and I’m asking you to sing at my prom.”

Jason let out a martyred groan. “Okay. Just this once.”

“Well, that’s normally how many times people do prom when they’re seniors. However, I’m going to Donovan’s prom too. I’m sure the people at his school would also love to hear you.”

“One prom,” Jason said.

“My fairy godmother could always change you back into a frog, you know.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “Both proms.”

* * *

My prom was first. Donovan got permission to come and rented a limo. Normally I would have told him not to spend the money, but it turns out pocketfuls of silver and gold are worth a lot. Donovan not only had enough money to go to college, if he wanted, he could buy his own house near campus.

His problem was he could only sell off a gold leaf at a time or people would wonder if his newfound wealth had come about by illegal means. It’s hard to explain where you suddenly got hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of precious metals from.

I had my own souvenirs tucked away in my closet: gold and silver leaves Donovan had given me, the pearl bracelet, and a fallen wish that would only ever be a diamond. Someday I might sell them—maybe when I was a poor struggling musician—until then, I would keep them.

When I stepped out of the limo in front of the hotel where prom was held, the paparazzi were waiting. Camera flashes went off around me, illuminating the area with splashes of light. Reporters jostled each other to get closer, holding mikes in my direction. “What do you think about Jason performing at your prom?” one asked.

Another called, “Are the two of you friends now?”

Then it seemed everyone was shouting questions at me. “Are you going to pursue a singing career?”

“How has this affected your life?”

For twenty minutes I answered them while kids from my school skirted around us, eyeing the cameras. Donovan stood by my side, protectively close. He kept his hand on my arm as though he thought he might have to bat the reporters away. Actually, I began to wonder if he would, since they showed no sign of letting us pass.

Finally, Jason and his body guards came out to rescue us. Or maybe Jason came out because he wanted to ensure the reporters got pictures of him with his arm draped around me, demonstrating we had no hard feelings. It was difficult to tell those sorts of things with Jason.

After a sufficient number of pictures had been snapped, Jason’s bodyguards cleared a path into the hotel. Once we went inside, the hotel security kept the paparazzi from following us through the lobby.

We walked into the ballroom, Jason retook the stage, and the crowd cheered to have him back. I’d never seen so many starstruck people. Even the guys at my school who had sworn Jason was no big deal grudgingly clapped. Several girls looked nearly hysterical with happiness.

Hard to understand, since Donovan was hands down the most handsome guy in the room. We danced song after song. We even waltzed a few times.

Some of my classmates gave us odd looks as we waltzed passed them, circling the perimeter of the room. A few whispered and laughed. I didn’t care. Waltzing was fun. And it reminded me of the first time Donovan and I had danced together back at the castle.

Other people watched us enviously. A few clapped for us, and one guy called out, “Do the salsa next!”

“We’ll have to learn that,” I told Donovan.

“Right. Then we can do it at my prom.”

Throughout the night, we mostly stayed on the dance floor. This was partially because I liked dancing with Donovan, liked watching him move to the rhythm. And partially because every time Donovan and I left the floor girls accosted me, asking about Jason. How well did I know him? Were Jason and I ever going to hang out together? If we did, could they come along?

Um, no. After his stint as prom entertainment, if Jason and I ever got together, our conversations would not be ones I’d want anyone else hearing. Undoubtedly they would include fairy queens, dancing princesses, frogs, and mermaids.