A Farewell to Charms by Lindsey Leavitt

was always used as an example of what could go wrong.
    “Do you want to try on any others?” Ferdinand asked.
    “No. I’m good.” I gazed up at the tiaras. Part of me wanted to try on every one of them, but I needed to use my alone time to get some answers. Maybe Ferdinand would know something about the sub-sanitation room. “Hey, Ferdinand, how long have you worked at Façade?”
    “Sixty-five years.”
    “For real? How old are you? Wait, sorry, that’s rude. Don’t answer that. I mean, unless you want—”
    “I am eighty-two. I began working for Façade at seventeen.”
    “So, did you sub?”
    “For a short amount of time, yes.”
    “Oh. And then…”
    “And then I moved around departments until I finally settled at the front desk. I’ve been happy here—I have the opportunity to meet many employees on their very first day.”
    “So you’ve, like, seen everything, huh?” I asked.
    Ferdinand set Princess Grace’s crown back on the purple velvet pillow. “Not everything. Just the beginnings of everything.”
    It’s funny, because here I was scrambling around trying to think of an ally, when I already knew, or at least kind of knew, someone at Façade who knew everyone . “Ferdinand, did I mention how nice you look today?”
    “No. But I look very much the same every day, Miss Bascomb.” Ferdinand locked the door to the tiara case and hobbled back to his desk. He was so venerable and ancient, as much a part of Façade’s history as the relics surrounding him. “I’m not a dinner roll,” he said, once he was back behind his desk and had a chance to catch his breath, “so care to tell me why you are buttering me up?”
    I leaned on the high counter. “I just never get a chance to talk to someone who has worked here so long. You must have crazy stories.”
    “I’m also excellent at staying quiet.”
    “Stories are meant to be shared. Unless they’re secret stories?”
    “Again, quiet.”
    “Okay, but there has to be one story that is too good to keep to yourself. Something that’s been boiling in you forever.”
    Ferdinand shook his head.
    “Really?” I asked. “Nothing? Not even gossip. Or maybe some little-known background or history or…something no one else knows?”
    “I can give you a tour of the displays. But something tells me that’s not what you’re asking.”
    “Not really.”
    “It’s refreshing to chat, since most subs just bounce by my desk. However, I do have other duties. So I hope you’ll afford me enough respect to tell me what exactly it is you want?”
    What did I want? I could write a list longer than the copy of the Magna Carta they had over in the case. Oh. Unless that was the Magna Carta.
    “I don’t know, Ferdinand. There is just so much to figure out here, it’s like the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know anything at all.”
    “That’s called wisdom.”
    “Yeah, well, then wisdom stinks.” When I first started working here, this place was still amazing and perfect. Subbing was the dream job I didn’t even know existed. Now, only a few months had passed, and already I had a whole different point of view. I wondered what kind of shifts Ferdinand had witnessed in his sixty-plus years here. “Right. So I do have a question. This place, it’s magical, right? And the job—the best. But if you could change anything about the agency, what would it be and why?”
    Ferdinand drummed his fingers on his desk. “No one has ever asked me that. Usually, the only question I get is which way to the bathroom.”
    “Look at all the wisdom those people are missing.”
    “More buttering, hmmm?” He scratched his chin. “Very well. I’ll play along. You know what I’ve always wondered? Why isn’t there a division that specializes in global diplomacy, international peace treaties, war negotiations? We have access to more than half of the countries in this world, and we have never brought them together. There might be some secret sector I know