Storybook Island

+ Average, Average, Average...

"Walk home?" I winced. "That's, like, 20 miles from here. You know my cardio is a curse."

"What about Storybook Island? It's only three miles from here." She suggested. Walking three miles was still worse than driving five miles, but it was better than 20.

I kicked a pebble and scowled at the seniors ditching school and driving off. Stupid seniors with their stupid licenses and stupid cars. Being a sophomore sucked. "Well, we should probably get moving."

Side by side, we set off towards Storybook Island and towards Uncle Charlie.

*

The ferry boat to chaperone guests out to the island was big. It was so massive that most people couldn't help but be shocked when they first saw it. As someone that has ridden it once too many times, it's not that cool. 

Really, it's not. The captain is this old, crusty man that swears like he's been stabbed. The view from the sides will be ruined by the wind in your eyes (and, if you're lucky, a couple of flies). And the top deck? It's ruined by all the seagull crap.

The part that is actually cool is the entrance to Storybook Island. There's this line you have to wait in and you have to let these guys look in your bags for bombs, but it's cool for Meghan and I. See, we used to have to pay to get in, then our uncle would pay us back, but after we got sick of that, he designed 'Princess Passes' (he named them when we were six) for us that means we get to slip past security, funds, lines at the snack cart, and charges for lunch at the pavilion. We also get to go first on the rides and have access to restricted zones like the management building or his suite. 

Yes, Uncle Charlie has a suite in his amusement park. It's neatly tucked away in the highest turret of the castle and has a king-sized bed, master bathroom, kitchenette, lounge, fireplace, and hot tub. 

Pretty sweet, right? He had decided he needed a suite to stay in once the park really became popular, and as popularity grew, he renovated. The whole thing had a medieval castle theme, so it had brick walls and chandeliers as well as a huge bear rug. The bed was a four-poster bed with elaborate gold blankets that I loved and the windows had stained glass over them.

Plus it had free catering.

"Abby, hurry up!" Meghan called as she dragged me through the crowd. She headed for the closest Dip-N-Dots, showed them her pass, and took a Cookies and Cream one. Using my Princess Pass, I took a cookie dough. We ate happily as we went to find Uncle Charlie.

"Where do you think Uncle Charlie will be?" I asked through a mouthful of Dip-N-Dots.

She shrugged. "His suite? Let's try there first."

"You just want to use the hot tub."

"So?"

"Alright, come on." 

We wound through the masses of sweaty tourists until the castle came into view. In the center of Storybook Island, the castle had been constructed. It rose above the park with its stone walls and iron gargoyles as if it were a titan. 

Children skipped rocks on the moat and ran through the center, where a cobblestone path led through to the back half of the park. In the tunnel, small gift shops and snack carts lined the way with bright lights and cheerful faces. Storybook Island was the best, hands down.

We approached a thick wooden door with wrought iron hinges. An armed security guard stood outside. He scowled as we approached. "No tourists in here."

"We aren't tourists. We're Charlie Stone's nieces." Meghan smirked, straightening her back.

"Uh-huh, and I'm the Queen of England. You've gotta provide some proof or you gotta scram." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at us like we were mass murderers or we stole the last piece of pizza.