Not a Unicorn

by Dana Middleton

  All I need is twenty-four hours. Then I’ll come clean.

  When Emma and I get to school, she tells me to take off my coat before we walk into the gym. My headache has flared up again, but I try to ignore it.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Just do it.”

  We throw our coats on chairs and walk through the ocean-colored doors.

  The gym is not dance-magical yet. The lights are on as volunteers and dance committee members perform the final setup duties—that’s one of the “perks” of being on dance committee. Still, as we enter, everybody looks at us.

  “See, I told you,” Emma whispers. “You look good.”

  “They’re staring at you,” I whisper back, because Emma looks amazing. She’s wearing an emerald-green dress with black heels, and she actually went to a salon to have her hair done.

  As she goes to talk to the DJ, I hurry to the refreshment table, where Brooklyn is setting up all the baked goods. In jeans.

  “Sorry we’re late.”

  “You came with Emma,” Brooklyn says. “Of course you’re late. You look good.”

  “Hey, I wanted to come in jeans! But Emma said a dress was nonnegotiable.”

  Brooklyn grins. “Emma likes to make an entrance.” She points toward a cooler behind the refreshment table. “Do you want to help with the waters?”

  “Sure,” I say, and start shoving bottles into ice. For a while, we work in silence. Then Brooklyn says, “So, I was wondering. Is it true that Mystic stole my bracelet?”

  I freeze. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Emma said she overheard you guys talking about it.”

  I feel so flustered, I don’t know how to answer, and my headache isn’t helping things. I thought this attack would come from Emma, not Brooklyn, and I don’t feel prepared at all.

  A sharp blast from a speaker makes us jump, and it feels like my head might split in two. I look over at the stage, where Emma is covering her ears and yelling at the DJ. Turning back to Brooklyn, I think about lying, but I can’t. She’s been too nice to me.

  “Kind of,” I sputter. “She just picked it up. She’s really into making jewelry and buys a lot of stuff secondhand, so I think she saw it as more like an inspiration piece or something. That was all. She’s not a thief. She promised me she would give it back, so I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want her to get in trouble. And she did give it back.”

  “I get that,” Brooklyn says thoughtfully.

  We stand there awkwardly, until I say, “You don’t think she took Emma’s necklace, do you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Brooklyn says, looking genuinely surprised. Oh, man, why did I say that? “Do you?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I really don’t.”

  I can tell Brooklyn’s deciding if she can take my word for it. Finally, she nods. I take a breath and Brooklyn smiles, both of us relieved. “Now that that’s settled,” she says, “let’s have fun tonight. I’m going to get changed.”

  “Can I ask you something first?” I ask, and she turns back around. “Since we’re being real.”

  “Sure.”

  “Why do you talk to me now? Because when I had a horn, you didn’t.” Wow, that was uncomfortable coming out, but I’m glad it did.

  “I should have,” Brooklyn says. “But you didn’t seem really open to friends.”

  “I didn’t?”

  “Not really. The three of you guys seem to like keeping to yourselves. But I guess I was wrong, huh?” Brooklyn says, and I hear regret in her voice. “I’m sorry about that, Jewel.”

  This girl keeps surprising me. “It’s okay. Thanks for saying that.”

  She smiles again. “And think, we could have been practicing French together all this time!”

  “Quel dommage,” I say, and smile back. She leaves to get changed and I wonder if other people felt that way when I had my horn. Was I so afraid that kids would make fun of me that I built my own moat to keep them away? I know I wanted friends, but it even took me a long time to warm up to Nicholas and Mystic.

  I finish setting up the refreshment table, then check out the photo booth area. I stick my head through the hole in my mermaid’s head to see how it feels, and the photographer, who’s still setting up, snaps a picture of me. Grandma will love it.

  “Attention. Attention, you guys,” Emma calls out from behind the mic at the DJ table. All us workers look her way. “Check this out,” she says, and the lights go down. For a moment, it’s completely dark. Then blue, white, and yellow lights flood the gym, making it look like an otherworldly ocean. Everyone oohs and aahs as hanging silver streamers, dangling fish, and wave-painted balloons come alive in our illuminated aquarium. It’s an Under the Sea extravaganza!

  Emma practically skips over to me. “Look how amazing!” she croons, stars literally in her eyes.

  “It’s beautiful, Em,” I say in awe, and together, we gaze at the twinkling lights. This reminds me of how I felt when we were younger, watching fireworks together. If my head felt better, this moment would be perfect.

  “It’s going to be the best eighth-grade dance ever,” she says dreamily.

  I want to ask her about telling Brooklyn about the necklace, but it’s too jarring an idea to hold in this epic moment. “You did great,” I say instead, putting another thing on hold until later.

  In thirty minutes, eighth graders start pouring in, and it’s not long before the gym is packed with bodies. Courtney, who drew the mural, is selling refreshments with me, still wearing her jeans. I don’t think she’s much up for dancing. The music blares, and it pulses between my ears, not in a good way. But soon we’re selling so many drinks, candies, and cookies that I get distracted from what’s going on inside my head. Courtney and I get a rhythm going together, and it’s almost fun.

  She’s making a joke about how every guy is buying only brownies, nothing else, when I hear someone yell “Jewel!” over the music.

  Looking over, I see Mystic and Nicholas standing at the edge of the refreshment table. “Hey,” I say, going over to them. Mystic is wearing a black dress, big surprise, and perfect eyeliner. Nicholas’s T-shirt has a tuxedo design on it. “You guys look great,” I tell them.

  Mystic smiles. “Thanks. How’s it going so far?”

  “So busy. We’ve run out of brownies.”

  “Then I’m outta here,” Nicholas teases.

  Mystic takes him by the arm. “No, you’re not. We’re going to dance.”

  Nicholas groans. “Look, I’m dancing!” He fake tap-dances over to the plate of cookies and snags one, pretending to strut backward toward the door.

  “Look,” I loud-whisper, grabbing Mystic’s arm. Noah and Ethan are coming through the entrance. Noah is wearing jeans and a nice shirt, but Ethan is dressed in a suit and bow tie.

  “Is that guy for real?” Nicholas says, through a cookie.

  “Leave him alone,” Mystic says. “He looks nice.”

  I lean toward her. “Maybe he’ll ask you to dance.” She shrugs hopefully, and I hold out my hand toward Nicholas. “It’s a dollar.”

  “Even for me?” he says, all innocent.

  “Especially for you,” I say, and grin.

  Another song starts, this one more fast and furious, and everybody screams so loud, I squint trying to block the sound.

  “Let’s dance!” Nicholas yells, and pulls Mystic onto the dance floor.

  He’s so weird.

  From behind the refreshment table, I rub my temples and watch everyone bathed in ocean light, jumping, dancing, and having fun. Emma and Thomas Kelly are in the middle of the action, waving their arms in the air, bouncing to the beat. Brooklyn is dancing with Eduardo Alvarez from my homeroom. She looks super pretty in her calf-length pink dress, and at the edge of the dance floor, Ethan is watching them, probably trying to get up the nerve to ask her to dance.

  This is what it’s like to be normal. So why does my head feel like it’s having its own Under the Sea dance?
>
  “Could I have a water?” a voice calls out over the music. I turn to see Noah pointing to the drink cooler.

  “Hey, sure,” I say, and hand him a bottle. “It’s a dollar, please, sir.” I do a fake curtsy. What am I doing?

  He hands me a dollar but doesn’t walk away, just turns and watches everyone on the dance floor. His head bobs to the beat. Then he turns to me. “Who won Japan?”

  “Huh?” The music is too loud. I can’t hear him. “What?” I shout.

  “You want to dance?” he shouts back.

  !!! What? “Uh . . .” No one has asked me to dance before. I look over at Courtney to see if she can spare me, and she gives me a thumbs-up, clearly ahead of me about what’s going on.

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding, and Noah nods back. I can feel my smile taking up approximately 75 percent of my face, and I have to admit, he looks pretty smiley, too.

  On the dance floor, he turns to me and, awkwardly, we start dancing. The first thing I learn is that, wow, I don’t really know how to dance. But luckily, he doesn’t either. We burst out laughing and focus on trying to move like everybody else.

  When the song ends, a slow one begins, and lots of kids give up. I’m about to go back to the refreshments when Noah says, “You wanna?”

  The lights dim as I look at him. “Okay,” I say unsteadily, and slowly, we move closer together. Noah puts his hands around my waist carefully, like I’m made of glass. And I’m about as awkward placing my hands on his shoulders.

  It is so weird, dancing with this boy I never thought would want to dance with me, or even talk to me! I officially admit to myself that it’s also really nice. In fact, I hardly feel my headache anymore. Did I just need a boy to ask me to dance to make it disappear?

  The thought of Carmen flashes through my brain. Not sure why, but there she is. I picture her watching me dancing with a boy! Tomorrow, Carmen, I promise. In twenty-four hours you’ll have my full attention. Just wait for me, okay?

  “You look really nice,” Noah says, breaking me out of my Carmen spell. “And you’re a good dancer.”

  “Thanks,” I say, feeling my face go hot. “And no, I’m not.”

  “Well, you’re better than me.” Noah says, grinning.

  We sway to the music, and move a little closer, my cheek not far from his. Some of the couples around us are so close they’re practically one person.

  “Can I ask you something?” Noah asks.

  I pull back and look at him. “Sure.”

  “There’s just something I don’t understand.” He hesitates. “And I thought—”

  There’s a sudden commotion from somewhere on the dance floor, and we let go of each other to look. Someone’s yelling in the middle of everything, and the couples around us pull apart, too, searching for the source.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Noah, and like everybody else, we move toward the sound.

  The slow song keeps playing, but no one is dancing now. A circle is forming around whatever is happening.

  As we get closer, the voices get louder. And I recognize one of them. Thomas Kelly. Figures.

  But then another voice becomes clear to me. Loud and elevated. It’s Emma.

  What is she saying? I strain to hear. She’s going on about something, and her voice is relentless. When I hear the word “necklace” come out of her mouth, I don’t need to hear what comes next.

  Leaving Noah behind, I push through the throng of bodies and get to the front. When I see who is inside the circle, it all becomes clear.

  Emma and Thomas are on one side. Mystic is on the other.

  “You’re a thief, you’ve always been a thief, and now everybody knows,” Emma says, shouting at Mystic. “I know you took my necklace!”

  I look around. Where’s Nicholas? Why is he letting this happen?

  “I did not!” Mystic says, her eyes wild.

  “You stole Brooklyn’s bracelet,” Emma taunts. “I heard you, remember? You’re a thief, Mystic Jenkins. Admit it!”

  Mystic looks like a cornered animal. “Leave me alone,” she says, looking around desperately until her eyes find me. Silently, Mystic is asking for help, but I just stand there, frozen. I should run in and defend her, but I can’t. I don’t. Ethan appears beside me, and briefly, Mystic’s eyes shift to him.

  Thomas Kelly throws up his arms and starts a chant: “Thief. Thief. Thief. Thief.” Some other kids join in.

  Frantically, Mystic searches for a way out. She’s completely surrounded, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She pushes through bodies and heads for the door.

  The chant follows her. “Thief. Thief . . .”

  “Mystic!” I yell, but she can’t hear me, so I rush through the pack of people and collide with Noah. Of course.

  “What’s happening?” he asks.

  “Mystic. I’ve got to find Mystic,” I tell him, and take off toward the door.

  Outside the gym, the bright lights of the hallway startle my eyes. Nobody’s at the reception table. Any teacher or chaperone-like person has been magnetized to the disturbance inside.

  A fast song starts in the gym, its muted beat pulsing through the door. “Mystic!” I call out, but she doesn’t answer. Girls’ bathroom, I think, and head toward the closest one.

  Rushing down the hall, I burst through the bathroom door, and there she is. Standing in front of a sink. When she sees me, she wipes her eyes and disappears into a stall.

  “Mystic, what happened?”

  Her voice is high-pitched. “You saw what happened! Your friend’s a real . . .” She pauses, sounding like she’s catching her breath. “It’s like she’s been planning to humiliate me in front of everyone. It was horrible.”

  “I’m sorry. Come out. It’s going to be—”

  “It’s not going to be okay!” she yells. “Did you see everybody looking at me? And that jerk Thomas Kelly . . . and Ethan was there. He saw everything, and he didn’t even . . .” she drops off.

  “Where was Nicholas?”

  “I thought if I was alone, Ethan might ask me to dance. He wanted to get out of there anyway.” Then she says, “Emma said you told her I took Brooklyn’s bracelet.”

  My mouth falls open. I don’t know what to say.

  “You didn’t, right?” Mystic calls to me. “I mean, I know you guys were best friends. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at her. But you didn’t tell her that, right?”

  I hesitate. “She heard us in the locker room that day, remember? She knew, Myst. I don’t know what she was doing back there but she’ll calm down.”

  The stall door slams open. Mystic stands there staring at me, eyeliner running down her cheeks. “You’re defending her? You saw what she did. You saw that! Are you actually defending her?”

  “Myst, listen—”

  “Girls like her,” Mystic hisses, “have hurt me my whole life. Yeah, I’m weird, tall Mystic who doesn’t fit in. And it’s okay once you learn not to try anymore. But it hurts when you’re a kid and they treat you like garbage. I don’t blame you for getting your horn taken off. If I could be different, or like, if I could be normal, I would. But I can’t. And I promised myself a long time ago to be done with girls like her. Because I would never let any of them hurt me ever again.”

  I take a step back. I’ve never seen Mystic like this before.

  “And then came you. I trusted you,” she says bitterly. “But it’s happening to you, too. Ever since you got your horn taken off. You know it, and I know it. I just can’t be there while you become one of them.”

  “I’m not becoming one of them,” I say, feeling sick inside, because part of me knows she’s right. And my head is pounding again, making it hard for me to think.

  She shakes her head sharply, her face miserable but fierce. “I know how this goes. You’ll forget about me. By high school, you won’t even remember I exist. It’s fine. I’m just preparing myself.”

  “Mystic. Come on. That’s ridiculous. You’re my best friend.”

  She loo
ks into the mirror and uses a paper towel to wipe the errant eyeliner from her cheek.

  “Listen,” I tell her. “You could give me the necklace! I’ll say I found it in the locker room. Nobody has to know anything else. And then it’ll be over. Emma will have her necklace back, and everything will go back to normal.”

  “Wow.” She turns to me. “Really?” I can’t read her tone. I haven’t heard her pronounce anything in quite this way before.

  “Yeah, really! It’ll be like it never happened.”

  But Mystic’s actually cackling.

  “What’s funny?” I ask.

  “You think I took the necklace.”

  “I’m not judging you,” I tell her honestly. “I know you love working on your creations and getting inspiration from all kinds of pieces. I get it, really and truly. We can figure out a way to get you inspiration without stealing. I’m not judging you, promise.”

  “Then I’m judging you.” Mystic stares down at me. The missing eyeliner from one of her eyes makes her appear lopsided. “Because I DIDN’T DO IT!”

  Her eyes bore into mine, and I suddenly understand. I step back, gulping on my stupid assumptions and wincing at the stabbing pulse in my head. I was wrong. I was completely—

  “Yes, you did.”

  I didn’t say that. I turn and see Emma standing inside the bathroom door. Brooklyn slides in behind her.

  Mystic looks at me. “Thanks a lot, Jewel.”

  “I didn’t know they were coming. I promise.”

  Emma steps forward. “Give me back my necklace, Mystic.”

  “I don’t have your necklace.”

  “You stole Brooklyn’s bracelet!” Emma accuses. “I heard you in the locker room talking to Jewel about it. What, do you think I’m stupid?”

  Mystic looks at Brooklyn. “I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have taken it.”

  Brooklyn nods. “It’s okay. I got it back.”

  “My necklace,” Emma demands, and holds out her hand.

  “I don’t have it.” Mystic stares at her straight on. “And even if I was a thief, do you really think I’d steal your crappy jewelry?”