Page 27 of Barbie: Dreamscape

I just have to prove it to them.

“Cool,” Ken says, apparently his favorite word, seeming completely unfazed that I just used magic. Does magic exist here? Are there others in different lands who have powers like Robin?

Ken clears his throat and gestures toward the stirrup.

Fear flurries in my stomach as I look up at Sandy, because all of this is new. I’ve spent my entire life at Swancrest, and it’s been a great one, but most of my travels have happened in my mind. Through books. Studies.

I always avoided anything that made me feel afraid. Up until recently, I practically ran from anything that even hinted at negativity.

But now, I’m thinking fear has ruled me my whole life. Fear of failure, fear of letting Robin down, fear of never living up to my mother’s sacrifice. It made me obedient. It made me follow the rules of the box I was put in.

Now, for the first time…

I’m stepping out of it.

I’m not running away from discomfort, I’m running toward it.

I’m placing my foot into the metal of the stirrup. I’m pushing with all my might and swinging one jeans-clad leg over Sandy’s flank, even though my heart is racing and my mind is filled with all the ways this could end badly, and I’m still not sure where I’m supposed to grip the saddle.

I’m afraid… and I’m doing it anyway.

“Hold on!” Ken says, and we’re off.

Sunsets and Sandcastles

I’ve never been so terrified in my life.

I’m holding on to Ken with every tatter of strength I have, thinking I really should have picked up some sort of sport or physical activity these past few years that didn’t just entail pacing while Callie quizzed me. Maybe skipping PE wasn’t such a great idea after all (thanks, bee). Wind whips past my cheeks, my stomach flips, I feel the last thing I ate sliding up my throat.

The world is streaking past me in sunset colors, and this is dangerous, and if I fall off this saddle, I’ll break my head open, and—

This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done.

The thought shocks me… but it’s true.

I feel free. Uninhibited.

Then, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

I swallow down the bile in my throat and keep my eyes open to steady my senses. I focus on the breeze whipping my hair back. I’ve never gone this fast on land before, bolting across this endless, limitless stretch of ground, no end in sight, no mist hugging its borders. No rules.

This is even better than flying in the boat, I think, my arms locked around Ken’s waist as we race across the fields, as Sandy lunges in long strides, as my body jostles around, until finally I find a way to sink into the horse’s rhythm and move with it, not against it.

This is so reckless. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I can’t believe I’ve never done this.

Sometime in the next few minutes, the horizon melts from fields of flowers into sparkling sapphire blue, and I gasp.

“Never seen the sea before?” Ken asks in front of me.

I shake my head. “Never.” This is nothing like the placid pink waters of the canals in Heartland. And not just because of the color—this is a wide-open expanse of ocean, no end in sight.

He lets out a low whistle. “Not even the beach?”

“Not even the beach,” I repeat, looking at the golden sand glimmering beneath the sun. Is it soft? Warm? I suddenly have the urge to sink my feet into it.

Ken scoffs, like the idea of not having beach in my life is unthinkable. “The beach is the best place ever,” he says. “Sandy doesn’t like it because her hooves get stuck.” As if in response, the horse snarls.