I can tell that Emma is taken aback by that. It goes eerily silent, and then Mystic’s eyes land on me. She looks at me for a full ten seconds. She’s waiting for me to say something. But I’m frozen. You’d think without a horn, I’d be able to find my voice, but look at me, I’m still voiceless. I feel Emma’s eyes on me, and I still can’t speak.
“Right,” Mystic says, “I guess we know what this means.” She stares at me for one final beat, then pushes past Emma and Brooklyn like they’re paper dolls and bolts out the door.
I look to Brooklyn, but she doesn’t say anything. She stands loyally by her friend’s side. So much for trusting Brooklyn. And then I think, What have I done?
I rush past Emma and Brooklyn and sprint down the empty hallway. “Mystic!” I call out. But she’s not there. Turning the corner, I slam into Nicholas.
“What did you do?” he says angrily.
“Where is she?”
“Out there.” He points to the double doors that lead outside.
“Where did you go?” I yell.
“I got bored and went to the art room. What happened?” he asks as Emma and Brooklyn appear.
“Aren’t you coming back to the dance, J?” Emma says. When I don’t answer, Emma stops, opening her hands like a question. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Uh—I just . . .” I still can’t come up with an answer. What is wrong with me? What am I afraid of? Not being popular? I mean, am I even actually friends with Emma again?
Emma shrugs and says, “Whatever,” and she and Brooklyn disappear back into the gym.
I look at Nicholas.
“Wow,” he says. “Whose side are you on?”
“Nobody’s,” I say, and look down at the floor.
“Really? Because from what Mystic’s told me, this is about Emma and how you used to be best friends and how she abandoned you after the Noah thing when you started damaging her reputation. And now you’ve not only abandoned Mystic, but you’re choosing the side of the exact person who’s making her life miserable. And I don’t think Mystic ever did anything bad to you.”
“She didn’t,” I say, feeling everything closing in on me.
“You know, Jewel with a horn would never act like this. She was nice.”
“Nicholas, come on—”
“No, you’re not her anymore. You’re not nice. You’re not cool,” he says. “In fact, maybe you should leave Mystic alone.” This sentence, he says like it’s final. Then he storms away, slamming through the doors and going outside.
A rush of air escapes my lips. What just happened?
I catch my reflection in the trophy case glass. At the girl without the horn. At the girl wearing Emma’s dress. At the girl who did not stand up for her friend. And I wonder who that girl is.
“Nicholas!” I cry, and take off after him. As I push open the door, I get slapped by the cold night air. Wrapping my hands around my bare arms, I lurch forward, calling for them, but Mystic and Nicholas seem to have disappeared.
Alone, I stand there staring into the night. The street-lights shine into the parking lot, full of cars, no people to be seen. “Mystic,” I say helplessly. “Where are you?”
Putting my hands to my face, I feel my bare forehead. I feel the shame crawling up my throat. I feel . . . I feel . . .
I feel it.
A sudden wave crests over me, bursting through my forehead, splitting it in half. It’s happening. Not now!
My knees hit the cold pavement, and the faint beat of music disappears.
Then so do I.
Not the Only One
My hair whips me in the face. The wind is more intense than anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve never gone this fast without a seat belt or a helmet.
The drum of hooves beats a path across the desert floor. From the back of a saddle, I’m looking ahead over Beaumont’s shoulder. My arms tighten around him, so close I can almost feel his beating heart. This is no dream. Beaumont is flesh and blood. Beside us is Esmeralda, riding Sheba, reins in one hand, flaming hair dancing behind her.
I hardly have a second to grasp my bearings before Beaumont calls out, “Whoa,” and we slow down so fast I have to hold on even tighter so I don’t fly off the saddle. My eyes meet Esmeralda’s and she says, “Best to go on carefully from here.”
Looking behind, I spot the town of Hot Springs in the far distance. To the west is Tabletop Mesa. I know where we are. We’re heading to Rock Canyon.
It’s strangely quiet, and it occurs to me that we’re sitting ducks out in the open. Wesley is good at hiding behind boulders with guns a-blazing. I take a breath and try to remember that I’m riding with the experts. I’ve seen them rescue centaurs and jackalopes. I’ve watched them fight off legions of fire-breathing drakes and capture lost and angry harpies. They know what they’re doing. Me, on the other hand . . .
“Should I be scared?” I ask.
“You should always be scared,” Esmeralda says.
She’s said this to me before, in the vision yesterday, at my locker. Why is she saying it again?
Marv the phoenix swoops down so close that I can feel the breeze from his wings.
“Why does Wesley kill the magical creatures?” I ask. I’ve always felt like that’s not been totally explained in Highwaymen, and if anyone can answer this, it’s Esmeralda.
“He thinks they’re an abomination,” she says. “Demons from hell. He’s on a mission from God to destroy each and every one of them. At least, that’s what he says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“No. He’s a pirate. Magical creatures release their magic when they die. The more he kills, the more magical he becomes.”
I knew he sold off parts of magical creatures as trophies to the highest bidder. But this is even darker than that. “Is that true?”
“Sure is,” says Beaumont.
“All those magical artifacts he wears hold the magic,” Esmeralda says. “The necklace of claws and fangs around his neck binds the magic to him.”
“Wow,” I whisper. I knew he wore these things around his neck, but to get their magic? How did I not know that?
I hear a whinny in the distance, and this is no regular cry. It’s the suffering call of an injured animal. For the first time ever, I see fear on Esmeralda’s face, and that terrifies me.
“I’ll meet you there,” Esmeralda says, and squeezes her legs into Sheba. Sheba takes off at a gallop, her wings spreading from her sides. As they soar away, Beaumont coaxes our horse forward.
When we reach the edge of Rock Canyon, I gasp. I thought I knew what to expect, but I was wrong. Rock Canyon is a massive gaping hole in the earth surrounded by walls of multicolored prehistoric rock. At its center stand two tall, skinny rock figures that rise from the earth like twin Jenga towers. I’ve seen the illustrations. But seeing them for real is like the difference between black-and-white and color.
At the bottom of the canyon, we see a tiny Esmeralda dismount, then send Sheba back into the sky. Within moments, the flying horse lands beside us.
“I’ll keep watch,” says Beaumont. “Off you go.”
He helps me down before I can object. As my sneakers hit the ground, I realize I’m still wearing Emma’s dress. Sheba whinnies and stomps her hoof impatiently.
“Seriously?” I ask, staring up at Beaumont.
“Chet’s late as usual, and Esmeralda needs help down there. I’ve got to keep watch. If Wesley’s on his way, I’ll keep him from you two for as long as I can hold him off.”
“But I’ve never flown before.”
“Oh, not to worry.” He’s grinning through gritted teeth. “Sheba does the flying part.”
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Turning, I hike up my dress and awkwardly lift my foot into the stirrup. Grabbing the saddle horn, I pull myself onto Sheba’s back.
Sheba takes off in a gallop, then wheels back around toward Rock Canyon—and I think I might die. She’s going so fast and heading for a huge gaping hole in the gr
ound. I watch her wings spread as we reach the canyon’s edge, and . . .
We fly.
The wind beats against my face as Sheba’s enormous wings pump through the air. She soars higher, in a long, elegant circle over the canyon. I’m scared to look down, but I can’t help myself. It’s unbelievable. Rock Canyon is so beautiful. I gaze all around me, amazed by the endless vista. This is nothing like being on a plane. This is nothing like being on Earth. THIS IS FLYING.
Cautiously, I take one hand off the saddle horn and let the wind rush through my fingers. As if it has a mind of its own, my other hand follows. I spread my arms wide. Free. Stretching upward, I feel my fingers touch the sky.
When Sheba starts to dive, though, I grab for her mane. My stomach leaps directly into my chest and I hold on tight. Careening toward the skinny rock figures, it’s like I’m on a roller coaster without any tracks. When Sheba’s feet hit the canyon floor and I’m safely on solid ground, I can finally breathe again.
“Chet’s still not here?” Esmeralda asks as Sheba stops beside her.
I shake my head, not able to speak, having just landed in the most miraculous faraway place of all.
Sheba folds her wings, letting me slip out of the saddle.
“All right, then,” Esmeralda says briskly. “You’ll have to do.” Esmeralda disappears behind the tallest rock tower, and I scurry after her. I round the corner—and gasp.
Carmen.
She’s lying on the ground. Her head flailing. Her legs thrashing.
“No!” I scream. “Carmen!” Shocked, I rush toward her, not believing what I’m seeing.
Her horn is gone. Someone cut off Carmen’s horn!
“Jewel.”
I look at Esmeralda, who is kneeling next to my unicorn. But it wasn’t her voice that said my name.
A pulsing sound echoes, like someone clanged me on the head with a gong, and Rock Canyon disintegrates into a mass of black dots. I am alone in the void. No Beaumont. No Esmeralda. No—
Startled, I open my eyes, blinking over and over again, gasping for breath.
“Jewel.” I look up to see Noah crouching beside me. “Are you all right?” he asks.
I wipe the tears from my eyes. I can’t talk. My teeth are chattering.
“What’s wrong?” Noah puts a hand on my hunched shoulder. “What happened?”
“I saw her,” I say, panicked. “She was lying there. Dying.” I look over at him. “Her horn was gone.”
Noah doesn’t flinch. He just says, “Are you talking about the unicorn?”
That snaps me back real quick. “You know about Carmen?”
“If Carmen is the name of that unicorn who used to follow you around everywhere, then yeah, I know about Carmen.”
Dumbfounded, I stare at him. I put my hands on my cheeks to keep him from hearing my vibrating teeth.
“You’re freezing,” Noah says. “Let’s get inside.”
As he helps me up, I notice that Emma’s dress is torn where my knees hit the pavement. How am I going to explain that? We walk silently back into building and sit down on a bench in the hall as the music still pumps away in the gym. Unbelievably, the dance goes on. I can’t think straight, and the fact that Noah’s hand is still on my elbow doesn’t help.
“How do you know about Carmen?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
“Just tell me,” I plead, and our eyes lock together for a long moment before he nods.
“Okay,” Noah says, “after you gored me with your horn, I started seeing this unicorn with its horn. At school, in town, even in the grocery store. I mean basically, whenever I saw the unicorn, you were always close by. So I figured I was losing my mind or that Unicorn Girl actually had a unicorn.”
He pauses, then goes on. “I didn’t say anything to anybody for a long time because the one time I pointed to the unicorn and asked Ethan if he saw him, Ethan thought I was kidding. He didn’t see anything. So I kept him to myself after that.”
“She’s a her.”
“Huh?”
“Carmen is a her, not a him,” I say. “Why didn’t you ask me about it?”
He points to my forehead. “You might remember there was an incident . . .”
“I’m so sorry, Noah.”
“I know. I’m sorry, too. My mom got way too freaked out. She overreacts sometimes. She made me promise to keep my distance, which I wouldn’t have really cared about except she made it official with the school and everything. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”
I kind of understand. Seeing unicorns can be weird. Dealing with moms can be weirder.
“So, this unicorn, Carmen, she’s real?” Noah asks. “I’m not crazy?”
“She’s real,” I say, exhaling. Someone finally knows what only I have known all along! He pulls up his shirt, revealing a puckered red scar on his stomach. “Noah!”
“No, listen. It was only after your horn did this that I could see your unicorn. So I’ve always figured—if I wasn’t crazy—that there’s got to be a connection.”
“You really think so?” I was starting to think the same thing.
“If there’s a unicorn, then there’s got to be magic, right?” he says excitedly. “I mean, unicorns are magic. Right? Everybody knows that. So I figure that when your horn skewered me, some of that magic might have, you know, rubbed off. Must have rubbed off. I don’t see any other explanation. Do you?”
“No other explanation,” I murmur. I can’t get over the fact that there’s been no one in my whole life who could talk with me like this before. I thought Emma could, but that was a lie. This is real. “Hey, this might be a weird question, but—have you seen her since my surgery?”
“That’s what I’ve been wanting to ask you.” Noah looks at me intently. “The last time I saw her was in the hall after Ethan took your stuffed unicorn. Which I caught by mistake, by the way.”
“Ethan took my unicorn?” I ask, confused. “Thomas Kelly took my unicorn.”
Noah shakes his head. “Nope. It does sound like a Thomas Kelly thing. But it was Ethan.”
“But why? Ethan’s nice.”
“Usually. But he got dumb over the Brooklyn stuff. So when Emma asked him to get the unicorn from your backpack—”
“Emma? Why would she—”
“She said she’d put in a good word to Brooklyn for him. Which never happened.” Noah looks down. “I told him he was aiming too high.”
“I can’t believe she would do that,” I say. “But why were you in detention that day? Why not Ethan, if he was the thief?”
“Well, I covered for him. I was caught red-handed, at least from Whatley’s perspective. It was easier to just keep him off the hook. He’s had a rough year.”
My mind is racing. There’s so much to take in, so I focus on the most important thing. “Okay. Pause on all of that and help me figure this out. Carmen disappeared after I got my horn taken off. And just now I had a vision of her dying at the bottom of Rock Canyon.”
“What’s Rock Canyon?”
“Um. A fictional place in this graphic novel series I’m obsessed with.” My eyes start watering again. “Long story. Forget that detail for a second. What if it’s somehow my fault? I cut off my horn. And Nicholas always said . . .” My words trail off into thoughts I haven’t let myself admit for the past couple of weeks.
“So how do we get to this Rock Canyon place?”
What a question. “I have no idea.” I stare at Noah, shaking my head. “It’s not even real.”
I sink my face into my palms. Carmen, my Carmen, is lying at the bottom of Rock Canyon, suffering. But how? How could my unicorn be in some graphic novel’s fictional Western town that existed over a hundred years ago? It doesn’t make sense.
I want to convince myself that it wasn’t her, that it was some other magical creature. But I can’t. I know my unicorn. I know it was Carmen. And I have no idea how to save her.
Noah waits with me until Mom picks me up. When she sees the h
oles in the dress and my bloody knees, I tell her I fell and that I don’t feel good. When we get home, I go straight to bed.
What am I going to do! I’ve been worried about Emma being my friend and Mystic stealing a necklace, while Carmen is dying. CARMEN IS DYING!
She’s out there, lying on the ground with her horn completely gone. She needs me. The image of the bloody stump where her horn used to be overwhelms my mind.
Finally, I let Nicholas’s pronouncement come into focus: A unicorn cannot live without its horn.
I thought that was about me. But what if it’s about her?
The Necklace
I wake up consumed with dread. Everything feels as real now as it did last night, and I don’t know what to do.
When I walk out of the bedroom, Grandma is making coffee. “You feeling any better?” she asks.
I shake my head. “What time is it?”
“A little before eight. Maybe you should go back to bed.”
“Is Mom asleep?”
“She went to work early so she can get back in time to go to your competition.”
The essay competition. I’d completely forgotten about it! How can I read my essay in front of all those people now? I can’t, not with Carmen out there somewhere.
“How was the dance?” Grandma asks, startling me back.
“It was okay,” I tell her. “The gym looked really good.”
“I bet you and Mystic danced the roof off.”
I wish.
And then I realize—I’ve been so freaked out about Carmen that I haven’t even thought about what happened to Mystic. I picture her face in the girls’ bathroom like it was a bad dream, and remember how horrible Emma was. How could she have done that? Mystic didn’t steal Emma’s necklace. I know that now. I was dumb, but Emma was mean.
And even worse, I didn’t stick up for my friend. By not saying anything, I let Emma think what she did was okay with me. It wasn’t. Somehow I have to make things right.
I look at Grandma. “I’ve got to go to Emma’s.”
“This early?”
“Um . . . yeah.” I hold up my phone knowing that Grandma isn’t going to check my story. “She just texted me. I want to apologize about the dress.”
Not a Unicorn Page 17