by Dan Bar-el
What I will reveal to all of you readers and listeners—what Duane and the others still, to this day, don’t know—is that this was all planned earlier along with Sun Girl and the Pack. You see, the thing C.C. actually found most scary was not being accepted by everyone she deeply cared for, but she didn’t want to tell them that. C.C. figured that sharing a moment of wonder, like she had observed with Handsome and Duane looking at snowflakes through the microscope, would bring her closer. That may seem like a lot of effort and bother to you, but I assure you that for C.C., it was a whole lot better than doing more chitchat.
Duane asked for the next performer. “Who would like their turn?”
Major Puff stood up at attention. When he paraded forward, stiffly and proudly, to take his turn on the stage, everyone naturally assumed he would be demonstrating some complicated marching strategy while recounting one of the many battles fought against the great black-backed gulls.
“As a puffin who has descended from a long line of military heroes, my blood has been tempered like that of sharp, cold steel.”
A quiet, collective groan was heard in the audience as everyone settled in for what they expected would be a long and tedious affair. But Major Puff’s opening speech took a curious turn.
“In keeping with the theme of tonight’s entertainment, I shall enflame my blood somewhat and take a leap of faith. I wish to dedicate this performance to Madame,” he said while looking nervously at Twitch. He turned and nodded to C.C., who rushed back to one side of the stage and stood beside the object he had first discovered on the Shipwreck—a Victrola. A Victrola is an old-fashioned record player, and if you don’t know what a record player is, then I suggest that you ask your parents immediately. Even if you’re reading this late at night when you should be sleeping, get up and wake your parents. Tell them it’s a story emergency. To continue, C.C. turned the crank of the Victrola with her wing, causing the disc in the middle to turn. Using her beak to serve as the missing needle, C.C. placed the pointy tip onto the rotating record. A scratchy, orchestrated melody spilled out from the horn. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Major Puff began to sing.
When winter’s blast approaches
And frigid air abounds,
When water freezes over
And snow doth muffle sound,
I migrate! I migrate!
I migrate far from you.
Both Major Puff’s voice and his legs quivered during that opening verse, but having gotten through it successfully, his confidence grew.
When warmer climates beckon
And palm trees sway hello,
When jasmine wafts its sweetness
And white sand warms my toes,
I migrate! I migrate!
I migrate far from you.
By the third stanza, Major Puff’s voice grew quieter, and dare I say, his blood was stirred with tender passion.
When thoughts of you come flooding,
My heart aches in reply.
A North Star there to guide me,
To thee my wings will fly.
I migrate! I migrate!
I migrate home to you.
Major Puff held the last note on “you” for as long as his breath would allow, bringing everyone to their feet with applause. When he was done, he took a deep, gallant bow as Twitch, who was touched to the core, hopped up to the stage and kissed him softly on the beak. In the annals of puffin history, never did a puffin of such high military rank blush as crimson as the Major.
“Suppose I should have my turn now that I’m up here,” said Twitch, turning to the audience. “I’ll just nip behind the curtain and get my box of goodies.”
Major Puff took his seat, joined by C.C., as the arctic hare dragged out an old wooden chest onto the stage, placing it left of center with the lid opened toward the audience so no one could see what was inside. She stood beside the chest and took a quick, deep breath.
“Bit of a change of pace from the Major’s beautiful serenading,” Twitch began. “So I’ve been to the Shipwreck, like a lot of you, checking in with C.C., looking through her books and doing some rummaging, quite a mess in those rooms, could use a little tidying and dusting, maybe some downsizing, just saying.”
Twitch’s jerks and spasms were now noticeably more intense, which is saying a lot for her. “But here I am, willing and ready, taking the plunge, rolling the dice, trimming the whiskers during a sneezing fit, if you catch my meaning.”
No one did take her meaning, but their curiosity was growing nonetheless.
“I learned a new skill, I did. Seemed appropriate for someone like me, the nervous type, always doing several things at once. It’s called juggling!”
Twitch leaned over the chest and pulled out a cleaning brush, a feather duster, and a wooden baking spoon. As she continued talking, she began tossing each object into the air, one by one, using her right front foot to throw and the left one to catch, before quickly giving the objects over to the throwing foot again. In this way, she managed to keep the three items aloft in constant motion. “So this is me, busy, busy, busy, always busy, I like to stay busy, helps with the excess energy. I like to cook and bake, as well you know, and I like a clean burrow too, not ashamed of it or proud, just a stickler for such things.”
Twitch’s newly discovered talent was impressive. She didn’t seem to be struggling at all. In fact, she was just warming up. “Can’t live a life stuck in a burrow, though, need some fresh air, need some exercise and such. Which is why I make time for my daily cardio-hopping! One hundred, up and down, give or take, just like this!” While still juggling the objects, Twitch began hopping just as she described, never faltering, always stable, causing everyone to break out in spontaneous cheering. But she still wasn’t done. “After I met the Major, though, now I could mix things up. The Major taught me marching skills, so there’s that, too!” Twitch instantly shifted from hopping up and down to marching back and forth across the stage, with legs high up in the air, while again, still juggling flawlessly.
Major Puff was on his feet. “Bravo, Madame, bravo! Your posture is beyond reproach!”
And then Twitch stopped, catching each of three objects in turn and putting them down. She walked over to center stage, stood beside the chest, and looked out at her friends calmly now. She said, “But juggling is one thing, scary is another. Being the worrying type, most everything to me is scary. Worrying about this, worrying about that, it’s in my nature, I suppose. So for the final part of my juggling act, I will push my fears aside, and try to juggle these!” At which point Twitch reached into the chest and pulled out three dangerously sharp–looking knives.
As you probably imagined, a collective gasp was the response to this unexpected program note. It didn’t help either that Twitch followed up by saying, “First time trying this bit!” before tossing the knives into the air, one by one. Paws and wings immediately covered the eyes of all who had gathered, but after several seconds had passed lacking any screams of an arctic hare cutting short her juggling career, so to speak, everyone started to relax and watch. Twitch seemed to be the most relaxed. Having found a steady rhythm for keeping the knives in a continual circle of flight, she somehow managed to shift all the juggling responsibilities to one paw, leaving the other one free to reach into the chest.
“Not like me to be having so much fun with all this danger involved,” she said with a touch of playful mischief in her voice. “Lots to go wrong, horror and mayhem, sharp blades, softer fur, just saying. Prefer to have a contingency plan, I do, a what-if-things-go-bad, hope-for-the-best-but-expect-the-absolute-worst attitude. Bandages are useful then!” At which moment, Twitch tossed a large roll of bandages into the air along with the juggling knives. “And another, just in case!”
To everyone’s delight, Twitch had gone back to using both paws in order to keep not three but five objects going at once, crisscrossing her throws in front of her, but never allowing either knives or bandages to collide.
“Twitch! Twitch! Twitc
h!” all her friends shouted, encouraging her on.
“And now for my big finish…” Twitch stopped juggling, quickly reached into the chest, grabbed a large iron pot lid, and held it over her head like an umbrella. The sharp knives fell down upon her, only to bounce harmlessly off to the side with a few metallic dings. “Ta-da!”
Again, everyone was on their feet applauding, as well as wiping nervous sweat from their brows.
16. THE BALANCING SHOW CONTINUES, MAGIC IS FORGIVEN, AND THEN SAD NEWS ARRIVES
TWITCH LEFT THE STAGE quite pleased with herself. Duane was thinking that the Balancing Show was going very well so far. Before he could ask for the next performer, Handsome had already risen to take his turn. We’ve had magic, singing, and juggling, thought Duane. What amazing talent will Handsome show us, I wonder? Everyone settled in and gave the musk ox their undivided attention.
“You may not have noticed, but I tend to place a lot of importance on my looks,” began Handsome, forcing everyone to smile and politely nod instead of rolling their eyes. “And although I fear many things in this regard—wrinkles, pimples, pustules, liver spots, crow’s-feet… carbuncles, cold sores, warts, and dryness… nose hairs, ear hairs, eye bags, frown lines, to name just a few—it is my fur I am most concerned, and dare I say scared, about.”
Handsome turned in profile so everyone could view the length of his body, covered in the long black fur that he spent countless hours brushing and maintaining. “As you can see, my fur is, objectively speaking, truly exquisite. Just the thought of it being damaged in some way can keep me up at night. So I hope all of you can appreciate that for my portion of the evening’s entertainment, I have chosen to do this.…” At that point Handsome reached up to a piece of cord hanging from the top crossbeam of the stage and pulled it. Glop! A bucket full of oozing mud fell over him, leaving his fur looking so much less than exquisite.
Eyes widened as mouths and beaks fell open all at the same time. The silence that accompanied everyone’s reaction was deafening. C.C.’s magic trick might have been inexplicable, but Handsome’s performance left everyone wondering if they actually saw what they saw. The musk ox just stood there, covered in muck, with an expression of utter revulsion. But witnessing the shocked response he saw from his friends, a small smile appeared that grew and grew until Handsome’s body was shaking from belly laughs. “Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” Everyone began to laugh along with him, loudly and boisterously. Even Boo quietly laughed despite herself.
“I only wish I had the foresight to have brought a towelette,” Handsome added, causing everyone to break out in another wave of laughter.
After Handsome made his way back to his seat, Duane, Twitch, Sun Girl, and the Pack attempted to clean at least some of the mud off his fur with their paws, feet, and hands. Meanwhile, Magic took to the stage unnoticed. When everyone turned their attention to the front, there she was, standing before them completely motionless. Immediately, the evening’s tone shifted from merriment to somber gravity for the very first time. Unspoken, but understood by everyone, was the fact that Magic’s turn in the show would determine if life for all of them in the Very, Very Far North would indeed be rebalanced. They were there to bear witness. Boo was there to try to forgive. Magic continued standing silently, her expression a mix of fear and sadness and guilt. The seconds ticked on.
Then, Magic brought one of her front paws up to her nose. Once she withdrew her paw, a bright red nose had replaced her usual black one. With just a tiny sponge filled with red paint concocted by C.C., she changed herself in some inexplicable way. It was still Magic. Everything about her looked like Magic. And yet that dab of red at the end of her face made her somehow a different version of Magic.
Nervous laughter pitter-pattered through the audience like a light rain.
Suddenly, the arctic fox turned around and faced the back of the stage. She spoke, but not in her voice. It was a voice of authority, a parent’s voice. “Magic! Your den is a mess! Clean it up right away!” Just as quickly, Magic, with her comical red nose, turned around again. In a higher-pitched, cublike voice she said, “I couldn’t possibly, Mother. It’s too, too hard!” Magic let her front paws slump forward with exaggerated exhaustion. She turned away again. “Magic, don’t give me that nonsense. I said clean your den!” The red-nosed fox began miming that she was cleaning, all the while talking to herself with overdramatic weariness. “It’s so tiring. I mean, really! Who would force a little, weak cub like me to work themselves to the bone? It’s too much!” Magic threw herself to the ground in a way that was very recognizable to her friends.
“That definitely is Magic,” laughed Twitch, to which everyone laughed as well. Duane glanced over to Boo. He could see only the smidgen of a smile, but she was equally engrossed.
Onstage, the voice of authority shifted to a new issue. “Magic! Go and look after your sisters and brothers!” Red-nosed Magic looked out at the audience and groaned. “Ugh! Taking care of them is so boring! I’m bored already! When will it be over? I’m absolutely dying of boredom here!” All the while, she showed herself struggling to overcome her lack of interest, shaking her head quickly, slapping her cheeks to wake up, jumping up and down, but to no avail. She fell to the ground, rolled on her back, and groaned pathetically. “Ohh, ohh, ohh!”
Everyone couldn’t help but laugh loudly now. Here was an over-the-top version of their over-the-top friend. They might have considered it rude to be laughing at her behind her back but for the fact that the only difference between the actual Magic and the one onstage was a splotch of red paint.
In the snap of a finger, she was up again, going back and forth between her parent voice and her younger voice.
“Magic! Did you glue leaves on your brothers and sisters?”
“Just on their front paws so they would have wings to fly away.”
“Magic! Your brothers and sisters are crying and won’t go to sleep!”
“They wanted a story before bed. I didn’t know they wouldn’t like ghost stories.”
“Magic! You left your brothers and sisters alone on the mountain!”
“We were playing hide-and-seek!”
“Magic,” said the strict voice, less angry but more serious, “they could have been hurt because of your lack of concern.”
Magic stopped. The laughter stopped. This was the moment she was leading to, the part that was most scary to her. She had shown everyone that since the day she lied to them and hurt Boo, she had been looking at herself and reflecting on what she saw. She had painted a comical portrait of the impulsive, self-centered version of Magic, which was part of who she was, but not all. She showed them that she could see there were consequences to her choices, and they weren’t always good. Now she reached up and wiped the red paint off. She looked out at her audience, and then up toward the back, where Boo stood watching her. “I promise to try to be a better friend.”
Boo held Magic’s gaze for a moment, and then she nodded ever so slightly.
There was a collective sigh of relief, as the expression goes. Magic came down from the stage to hugs and smiles. Boo came in closer to the group. No one was happier than Duane, though. The Balancing Show had done what it was supposed to do, and he felt at peace. And then, on the far side of the celebration, Duane spotted the weasel. Of course he was there—he was everywhere. But by his expression, it was clear that he was not happy with how things turned out. When he discovered that Duane was staring at him, he sneered back before scurrying away in a snit.
“Duane, you haven’t had your turn yet,” said Magic.
“Hmm? Sorry?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s right, he hasn’t. Take your seats, everybody,” Twitch announced. “Duane is up next.”
Duane didn’t have anything nearly as spectacular as what his friends had shown. His bit was really quite short and self-contained. “I tried to think of something that would be really scary for me,” he said once he got onstage, “and this is what I came up with.” Duan
e closed his eyes. He was going to concentrate on a single thought. It was the thought he feared the most in the world, to the point that he would rather avoid imagining it. But he wouldn’t this time. He would hold steady and—
“What? For me? Oh, I see.”
It was Handsome’s voice Duane heard with his eyes still closed. When he opened them, he caught a glimpse of another musk ox just leaving. Meanwhile, Handsome was holding a letter that he now was in the middle of reading. His expression was grave. “Oh my,” he said softly.
“What is it?” asked C.C.
Handsome put the letter down. “My older brother has injured himself. He is the leader of the herd, you understand. I’ve been asked home to take over for him. Tomorrow, I… I will have to leave.”
Duane remained standing onstage alone. Naturally, the shocking news took attention away from his performance. Everyone gathered around Handsome to suss out the details of his family situation, what happened to his brother, how to lead a herd, and so on.
Not Duane, though. He was very quiet. What no one knew was that the thought Duane was going to force himself to imagine, the thing that he found most scary and that he would rather avoid more than anything else in the world, was in fact the thing that actually just happened. Duane was about to lose one of his friends.
17. ONE QUESTION
DUANE COULD NEVER PREDICT upon waking up how he would greet the morning, or indeed, how the morning would greet him. It was best when they received each other cheerfully, but this wasn’t always the case.
Sometimes the morning greeted Duane by dumping so much snow in front of his cave that he could not see a thing. When that happened, Duane understood that the morning was not in a good mood and would prefer to be left alone. Respectfully, Duane would crawl back into bed and sleep until the afternoon came along.