Why oh why did I trust Ari and Mercedes when they said that a long, handmade tunic and deerskin boots would be cool in a place like New York City? Even the weird girls who wear fake wings over their strappy tank tops and flouncy skirts are looking at me like I’m the freak! I wish I could be like my dad—proud and confident when he’s onstage in his elf clothes. Then again, this isn’t a stage and I’m not playing to my adoring fans. I’m back at BAPAHS, where evil lurks in the form of Bella Dartagnan, who already called me a “nancy with no fraz.” The fairies are in a huddle, gossamer wings flittering as they whisper together and glance over their slender shoulders at me. I know I’m going to have to make a move, either back outside past all the kids on the steps leading up to the school or forward, deeper into the jaws of the BAPAHS beast. Before I can make up my mind which way to go, the big green doors open behind me. A warm breeze ruffles my tunic, reminding me how ridiculous I must look next to everyone in their soft worn jeans, funky tops, and little flat slipper shoes.
