All around her, Underlandians clapped loudly as Zanik placed a delicate tiara on Mirana’s head. Mirana, clad all in white, smiled sweetly at everyone. Per usual, Iracebeth’s face was twisted in a scowl.
“And now,” King Oleron announced, “the princess Iracebeth.”
This must be some sort of coronation ceremony for the princesses, Alice thought. Zanik stepped to the side of the platform, where his son held out an oversized hatbox. Reaching in, Zanik carefully lifted an extra-wide tiara. Then he took his place behind Iracebeth and ceremoniously lowered it onto her head.
Except…it didn’t fit.
Iracebeth’s head was too large. As Zanik tried adjusting the angle of the tiara, the crowd around Alice murmured and the younger Hatter tried to stifle a snort of laughter.
“You are making me look foolish!” Iracebeth hissed at Zanik.
If the princess hadn’t been so testy, Alice might have felt sorry for her. Hatter was caught up in the humor of the situation and couldn’t help himself a second time: he giggled as his father struggled with Iracebeth’s gigantic head.
“Get on with it!” Iracebeth burst out.
Doing his best, Zanik shoved the tiara down, but the force of his movement only snapped it in half. Jewels and pearls popped off and rolled down the steps of the platform, clattering loudly in the sudden silence. Several came to rest at Alice’s feet and shimmered up at her.
After a few frozen moments, the assembled Underlandians began to titter.
“Old big ’ead broke her crown!” called someone from the audience.
As the laughter grew, Iracebeth’s hands curled into fists and her cheeks flushed. Alice could see the tears brimming in the princess’s eyes and she felt a twinge of sympathy. Being in front of a crowd could be nerve-racking enough; a crowd mocking you would be terrible.
“Silence!” Iracebeth bellowed. “The next person who laughs will never laugh again!” Alice’s sympathy was quashed. That sounded like the Red Queen Alice knew—irrational and cutthroat.
“Iracebeth, please!” her mother interjected. “How could you ever stop people from laughing?”
Alice could think of a few ways the Red Queen had done just that, but Queen Elsmere’s concerned gaze seemed to subdue Iracebeth. The princess cast her eyes down to where red-hearted shoes peeked out from under her pink-and-black dress.
“Put a bag on her head!” someone else teased.
“If you can find one that would fit,” another voice added.
The room exploded in laughter and Iracebeth shot to her feet, her whole body shaking in rage.
“Off with their tongues,” she screamed. “Off with their ears! Off with their…heads! Off with their heads!” Flinging her arm forward, she pointed menacingly at the villagers.
Alice had heard the threat before, many times, but clearly the crowd hadn’t. The Underlandians fell into a stunned silence.
With a frown, King Oleron rose from his throne. “Iracebeth, enough!” he snapped.
The princess froze, her arm still outstretched, but she continued to glare at the crowd as her father approached.
Gently but firmly, the king took Iracebeth’s arm and lowered it back to her side. Alice could see disappointment in his eyes as he addressed his daughter. “Iracebeth of Witzend. I had always hoped you would one day show the necessary qualities to become the queen you were born to be. I now realize, with a heavy heart, that day will never come.”
“But, Father—” Iracebeth’s voice cracked.
The king shook his head and faced the crowd. “People of Witzend, upon our passing, I hereby decree that my crown shall pass…to the princess Mirana.”
In her seat, Mirana jolted in surprise, and the Underlandians fluttered at the announcement. As Iracebeth processed his words, her expression went from hurt to shocked and furious.
“But I’m the eldest! It’s not fair!” she cried.
“You’re dismissed,” King Oleron said. He kept his eyes averted, as though his oldest daughter weren’t there.
Iracebeth lashed out. “You always loved her best!”
“That’s not true, Iracebeth,” Queen Elsmere began, but the princess was too angry to listen.
“I hate you,” Iracebeth spat. “I hate you all!”
Right there in front of Alice’s eyes, Iracebeth’s head began to expand, as though it were a balloon filling with air. Iracebeth grabbed her skull with her hands, then hurriedly stalked toward a stairwell next to the platform. Noticing the Hightopps, she paused.
“Zanik Hightopp,” she said, her voice loaded with bitterness. “I will never forget what you and your family have done to me this day. Never.”
Mirana rushed over and grabbed hold of her sister’s arm.
“Iracebeth, please,” Mirana said.
Iracebeth jerked away. “I’m not talking to you,” she cried. “This is your fault. Everything is your fault!”
How could Iracebeth blame Mirana? Alice shook her head at the ridiculousness of it; none of this was Mirana’s fault. Mirana hurried after her sister as Iracebeth stomped out of the room. The king and queen exchanged troubled looks and also retreated.
The coronation over, Underlandians began to funnel out of the castle. Alice pushed forward in the opposite direction, determined to reach the Hightopps. As she drew closer, she saw Zanik round on his son, his lips pressed together in a frown.
Hatter blinked innocently at him. “All I did was laugh, Father,” he said. He held up his hands. “Her head is rather…voluminous! I couldn’t help it.”
“You cost the princess her crown,” Zanik replied. “Do you know what this means for us?”
“Why am I never good enough for you?” Hatter asked.
“Why are you always such a disappointment to me?” Zanik said at the same time.
Hatter pulled back, quiet for a moment, and Alice found she was holding her breath. She knew what a parent’s disapproval felt like.
“There,” Hatter finally said, his voice surprisingly measured. “You’ve said it. Well, if I’m such a disappointment, I don’t suppose you’ll be sorry if I leave home.”
“Tarrant, no!” his mother cried, rushing to stand between the men. “Please, Zanik, tell him to stay. Zanik!”
Zanik’s mouth pulled into a flat line as his wife clung to Tarrant’s sleeve. “If he is to be a hatter worthy of the Hightopp name, he must be sane, sober, disciplined, prudent, punctual, punctilious.” He paused, regarding his son. “Everything he is now not!”
Alice winced on her friend’s behalf. Zanik was wrong! She’d never met a better or more creative hatter than Tarrant. But the Hatter’s lips only trembled slightly. He stiffened his back and gently disengaged from his mother’s grip. With a quick nod, he whirled and marched out of the castle.
IN THE WINDING streets of Witzend, people and creatures gathered in clusters to whisper about the results of the coronation. Keeping her eyes fixed on the lanky frame of the Hatter ahead of her, Alice wove through the groups.
“Excuse me?” she called. “Excuse me? Tarrant!”
Hatter spun, his face still tight with emotion. Alice pulled him into a hug, wanting to comfort him after that terrible exchange with his father. He was surprised, and his expression melted into bemusement.
“It’s you, isn’t it? It’s really you!” Alice said, echoing what Hatter had once said to her.
“I’m sorry,” Hatter replied. “Have we met?”
Alice stepped back, beaming up at him. “Yes! I mean, no. I mean, not yet. I’m Alice.”
“Funny. I feel I should know you.” Hatter’s voice had returned to its usual quirky cadence.
“We met once,” Alice explained. “When I was young.”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall,” Hatter said.
Alice smiled. “Because it hasn’t happened yet.”
“When will it happen?”
“Years from now. When you’re older,” Alice answered.
Hatter cocked his head to the side. “I’ll
meet you when you’re younger…and I’m older?”
“It doesn’t make much sense, I know.” Alice bit her lip as Hatter worked through the conundrum.
Suddenly, his face broke into the familiar grin Alice had missed. “Of course it does!” he exclaimed. He started walking again, his steps more buoyant as Alice kept pace. “You’re Alice—my new, old friend! You’re bonkers, aren’t you?”
“Am I?” Alice asked.
“All the best ones are,” Hatter said, leaning in conspiratorially. He plucked a ribbon from one stall, then a purplemelon fruit from another. “You must meet my friend Thackery Earwicket!”
As they passed a crooked house, Hatter reached out and snatched a few tail feathers from a borogove bird perched on the windowsill. It let out a disgruntled squawk and fluttered away.
“He lives out by the old mill,” Hatter continued. His fingers busily wove the ribbon around the fruit and feathers, attaching them to some fabric he’d pulled from his vest.
As the two of them exited the village and strode toward Tulgey Woods, Hatter drew a pair of scissors from a holster on his hip and snipped at the ribbon.
“I’m hoping he’ll put me up for a bit,” Hatter chattered on. “Will you join us for tea?”
Before Alice could answer, he whirled, presenting her with a stunning purple-and-blue hat he’d fashioned from the fruit, ribbon, fabric, and feathers. Delighted, Alice immediately placed it on her head. Hatter produced a hand mirror from one of his pockets and held it up with a flourish so she could admire herself.
“And the pièce de résistance,” he said. Leaning forward, he tugged the ribbon on the hat. Immediately, its pink, white, and black feathers fanned out like a peacock’s tail. Alice clapped her hands, impressed.
Linking arms, the two of them continued along the path until Hatter paused at an old oak tree with a hollow in its side.
“Can you keep a secret?” he whispered. Alice nodded and her friend’s face became wistful. “This tree is magical,” he said. “Every night when I was a boy, I would make a wish, and the next morning the tree would have granted it. Usually green-and-white Swizzles. Delicious! What a tree.” He patted its bark gently before ambling onward.
Suddenly recognizing their surroundings, Alice pulled up short. They were close to the Horunvendush Day fairgrounds. She’d been so caught up in having her old friend back that she’d forgotten her mission.
“Wait! Stop!” she cried. “Your family is in danger. You must warn them about Horunvendush Day!”
Hatter regarded her blankly. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he finally said. “But if my father sent you to change my mind, you can tell him that I never will.” He turned his back and walked purposefully away.
“Tarrant, wait!” Alice called desperately. “Listen! You are right now creating a past you will never be able to change! Hatter!”
But Hatter didn’t turn around. His figure was soon swallowed by the shadows of the trees. Flinging up her arms in frustration, Alice headed back toward the village. Maybe the elder Hightopp would listen to reason.
She found Zanik Hightopp outside Witzend Castle, talking to a distraught Princess Mirana.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hightopp,” Mirana was saying as Alice approached. Her voice was sweet and sincere. “My sister wasn’t always like this. But something happened when we were small.”
Curious, Alice paused, waiting to hear more.
“It’s fine, Your Majesty, really,” Zanik said. He shifted on his feet, seemingly made uneasy by the fact that a princess was apologizing to him.
“It was Fell Day, many years ago,” Mirana continued, oblivious to Zanik’s discomfort. “It was snowing that night…she hit her head on a grandfather clock, in the town square.” Mirana gestured toward the center of Witzend. Her eyes took on a faraway look. “Right at the stroke of six. I’ll never forget.”
An idea sprang to life in Alice’s head. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she slipped away quietly and headed out of town.
In Tulgey Woods the birds tweeted merrily and the sun shone down. But the Hatter didn’t notice. He was slumped over the arm of a plump chair next to a series of tables that had been set up in a clearing. All his meager belongings were stacked nearby, just outside the house of his friend Thackery Earwicket.
Thackery, more widely known as the March Hare, and Mallymkun, the brave little Dormouse, emerged from the house. Thackery balanced a tall stack of cups and saucers in one hand and waved a teapot in the other while Mallymkun carried a pile of silverware in her tiny hands.
“Teatime!” Thackery called brightly. The topmost cup began to slip off his tower, and he quickly swung his arm to shift everything back.
“Cheer up, Tarrant,” Mallymkun said as she plunked down a spoon. Moving along the table, she set out another on the pristine tablecloth. “We’ll have fun now that you’re living here.”
Hatter tried to shake off his gloominess; he didn’t want to bring his friends down. He helped Thackery and Mallymkun lay out enough tea settings, cakes, scones, and sandwiches for a party of sixteen, even though it was just going to be the three of them—unless, of course, that delightfully strange Alice girl came along. Hatter felt bad for the way he had left things. It wasn’t Alice’s fault that his father disapproved of him. As Hatter turned to scan the trees for his new-old friend, a horrendous sound pierced the air.
From the sky, the Tempus Fugit whistled toward them. Time tried to steer his machine, but his arms were exhausted.
Boom! The Tempus Fugit crashed into the enormous sails of the windmill above Thackery’s house.
The white fabric unfolded and the Tempus Fugit slid to the ground, bringing Time with it.
“Owwww,” Time complained as the platform beneath him banged into the dirt. “Oooofff! Ughhhh,” he moaned as a wooden beam thumped him on the head.
Speechless, Hatter, Thackery, and Mallymkun stared at the strange machine and the bushy-haired man crumpled in the grass.
Finally noticing them, Time scrambled to get out of the Tempus Fugit, his boots clanging against cogs as he pinwheeled his arms in a most undignified manner to get through the levers and switches.
Once he was finally free, he cleared his throat, then drew himself up to his full, imposing height. New wrinkles had formed in his forehead and there were bags under his eyes.
“Greetings,” Time said. “I am Time. The Infinite and Immortal. You may express your awe and wonder.” He peered down his nose at them. “But keep it short,” he added, ever a stickler for himself.
Mallymkun bowed deeply, nudging Thackery with her elbow until he followed suit. Hatter merely tipped his head sideways to study the newcomer.
“I wonder, my lord,” he said, “why you have lowered yourself to mingle amongst us mere and mundane mortals.”
“Ah, well.” Time’s eyes shifted in his embarrassment. “I am looking for a girl called Alice. Have you seen her?”
Hatter pursed his lips, considering. Alice, he liked, whereas this man seemed rather pompous. “What is your business with her?” he asked.
“She took something from me. I need it back as soon as possible,” Time said.
Coming to a decision, Hatter smiled widely. “You’re in luck, oh, Eternal One! Why, just today I invited Alice to tea. Have a seat. We can wait together.” Hatter bowed, one arm extending toward the tea table.
Time strode past him and selected a tall armchair. As he settled in, Hatter caught Mallymkun’s and Thackery’s eyes over Time’s head. He nodded slightly. This will be fun, Hatter thought.
He picked up a floral teapot—one of many teapots on the table—and poured some tea into Time’s cup.
“If you’re really Time itself, or himself, or whatever you are, perhaps you can answer me this,” Hatter blathered on as he served their guest. “I’ve always wondered when ‘soon’ is.” He set down the teapot only to snatch up a plate of scones and shove it into Time’s face. “Is it before ‘in a few minutes’ or after ‘
a little while’?”
Time had to jerk backward to keep his nose clear of the pastries. Taking a moment to coldly study the Hatter, he clasped his hands.
“If you vex me, it’ll be an eternity.”
YEARS FURTHER in the past, Alice steered the Chronosphere to a safe landing, which was much easier now that she wasn’t being pursued. Once again, she stood on the outskirts of Witzend, but this time the air had a winter bite.
Her shoes crunched on the frost-covered ground as she made her way into the village. Strolling around her, people wore heavy coats, and their cheeks were pink from the chill.
Suddenly, a tiny grinning set of teeth, followed by an aqua-and-gray-striped kitten’s tail, appeared from around a corner. That must be a young Chessur! Alice thought. The tail twitched teasingly, and a bloodhound puppy—who could only be Bayard—bounded into sight. His paws just missed the tail as kitten Chess whisked it away.
Puppy Bayard’s feet skidded out from under him on the icy ground, and he went sprawling. Chess giggled gleefully. Two plump young boys toddled into view, their arms knocking against each other; these were the young Tweedles! Trailing behind them was a very dapperly dressed eight-year-old boy with bright orange hair. There was no mistaking the Hatter, no matter his age. His green plaid coat swung open to reveal a light pink necktie tucked into his vest, and his ensemble was completed by a red velvet top hat.
Smiling, Alice watched her young friends. Chess was now leading Bayard on a merry chase through the crowd while the Tweedles bounced off people’s legs as they tried to keep up. The bright blue laces of Hatter’s boots flopped cheerfully as he danced after them.
“Tarrant!” A stern voice called.
Hatter stopped mid-step and turned toward his father, whose tall figure was framed by the doorway of his shop. Zanik, his arms crossed over his chest, was frowning.
With a sheepish grin, Chessur melted into the air, then reappeared farther down an alleyway. Bayard and the Tweedles hurried after him without a backward glance at Hatter.
Alice in Wonderland- Through the Looking Glass Page 7