The Great Museum Mix-Up and Other Surprise Endings

by Deborah Lytton

  I turn his argument around on him. “If dinosaurs are extinct, then why can’t you say the same thing about unicorns?” OK, I might be a tad touchy about this topic. This isn’t the first time someone has told me that unicorns aren’t real. And it really, really bothers me. A lot.

  Will doesn’t say anything. Uh-oh, not again, I think. The last time this happened, Will and I almost stopped being friends. Well, actually, we did technically stop being friends, but only for one week, and only until I apologized.

  Before I have to say something to fill the silence, Will throws his hands in the air. “Good point, Ruby. I never thought of it that way before.”

  Winning an argument is a pretty great feeling, I have to admit. Winning an argument against the smartest boy in the entire fifth grade, well, that is beyond great. It’s stupendiferous, to use a Will P term.

  I don’t have time to bask in the win though, because at that exact moment, Will’s friends Bryden and Will B stop by our desks. These are probably my two least favorite people in our whole school because:

  1. They start the horrific food fights and usually hit me with flying, half-eaten luncheon meats.

  2. They think super-gross things are funny.

  Before I can make a quick getaway (where is my invisible race car when I need it?), I am surrounded. Bryden is on my left eating something that looks like a burrito but smells like tuna fish. It makes my stomach flip upside down. Will B is on my right stretching a rubber band back and forth, which I am pretty sure is going to snap into my arm any second.

  “OK, well, I’ll see you in the library,” I mutter and back away as quickly as possible, avoiding the tuna burrito and the rubber band.

  My friends are waiting for me just outside the classroom door. The Unicorns walk together to the library. Jessica tells us about her plans to visit relatives in Japan next summer.

  “My mom made the reservations last night. We’ll be on the airplane for eleven and a half hours,” she says.

  Charlotte’s eyes get really big just thinking about it. “That’s almost half a day!”

  Daisy turns around, so she is walking backward in front of us. “I thought a two-hour car ride was long. What will you do for that many hours?”

  Jessica braids her hair as she walks. “My sister is going to watch movies. She says she can probably see six in a row.”

  “You’ll have to bring a lot of books with you,” I tell her.

  “And a pillow,” Siri adds. Everyone laughs at that because we all know how much Siri likes to sleep.

  Mrs. Sablinsky is holding open the red door that leads to our library. The Unicorns are the only students left outside. She says to us, “Less talking and more walking, please.”

  We all look at each other and then, at the same time, start run-walking to the door. (Factoid: run-walking is that half run, half walk that you do when someone is waiting for you and you need to get there quicker than you can by just walking. It would also be useful if you had just eaten all the honey-raisin granola in a bear’s house and were trying to escape without drawing attention to yourself, because the bear would certainly notice if you sprinted, but might not be suspicious of someone run-walking through the forest.)

  We pass by Mrs. S without slowing and zoom right into the library. Mrs. Xia, the librarian, is sitting at the front desk, so I zip over to say hello while my friends start looking for books. Mrs. Xia is one of my absolute favorite people. I will miss her next year when I go to middle school. I hope the librarian there will love books as much as Mrs. Xia loves them.

  “Good morning, Ruby. I have something for you.” She hands me a sticker that reads, in yellow letters, TURN THE PAGE. Underneath the words is a drawing of a mouse reading a book.

  I put the sticker on my blue sweater right away. “Thank you. Have you ever noticed that mice are characters in so many books, but most people are super scared of them in real life?”

  Mrs. Xia chuckles at that. “I’m sorry to tell you I am one of those people.”

  I nod. “Me too,” I whisper.

  Then Mrs. Xia gets down to business. She always asks me the same question when I come to the library, but my answer is always different. Here is the question: “What are you reading right now?”

  I answer her with the title of this week’s book club read. “We just finished From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Mrs. Sablinsky loaned us copies. It’s one of her favorites.”

  Mrs. Xia’s eyes shine with excitement as she claps her hands together. “One of my favorites too. I have always dreamed of staying in a museum overnight.” She comes around the desk to stand next to me. “Do you need any help today?”

  “Actually, I do.” I can see my friends disappearing into the stacks of books. “I am looking for a book about unicorns.”

  Mrs. Xia nods. “I believe I have a few that might interest you. Let me show you where they are.”

  I have spent so much time here that Mrs. Xia could probably just direct me to the titles or authors and I would be able to find the books from there. But I know from personal experience how much she enjoys helping students find special books, so I follow her to the back of the library.

  She points to the middle row of shelves near the back door. “All the books about mythological creatures are in this section.” She runs her hand across the spines of the books. “Let’s see here—dragons, fairies, mermaids—ah, here we are. Unicorns.” With a smile, Mrs. Xia hands me three books with unicorns on the covers.

  “Mrs. Xia, we need your help,” Bryden interrupts. He and Will B stand there looking very confused. “We can’t find any books about pythons.”

  “Or cobras,” Will B adds.

  “Ah, snakes. Another subject I would rather see in a book,” Mrs. Xia says with a smile in my direction.

  I nod. I couldn’t agree more.

  Mrs. Xia glances at Bryden and Will B and then back at me. “I’ll let you take a look at these for a few minutes.”

  I can tell already that none of these are exactly what I am looking for, but since I don’t want to be rude, I thank her anyway. I am looking for a book about real unicorns, and these books are all about fairy-tale unicorns. Maybe I’ll have to choose another subject after all.

  I sigh and turn to slip the books back in their spot on the shelf. I help out a lot in the library, so I’m an expert at knowing how to reshelve a book. Two of the books go in perfectly, but the third one won’t slide all the way back. It keeps stopping. I push again, but it won’t budge. I am wasting time when I need to be finding a book. But I don’t want to leave the book out of place or stuck on another shelf. That’s one of my pet peeves—when library books are left in the wrong spots, so the next person who is looking for them can’t find them. A library only works if every book is exactly where it is supposed to be. So I pull the book all the way out to try again.

  And that’s when I see it.

  A tiny moss-green book is stuck in the back. It’s turned sideways across the shelf behind the other books, so it might have been hidden here for years. There is no title on the front of the book, but a gold unicorn shape is stamped into the cover.

  Suddenly, I no longer hear my friends talking at the table on the other side of the room. I don’t hear Will P telling Mrs. Sablinsky some of his favorite facts about polar bears. I don’t even hear the rustle of countless pages being turned.

  The room has gone silent. I hear nothing at all except my own breathing and the superfast beating of my heart. The unicorn on the cover is highlighted in a golden spotlight from the sun coming through the window behind me. Before I even touch the book, I know it’s special. I can’t say how I know this—only that I do.

  (Sometimes a truly magical thing happens in a story that changes everything.)

  I gently pull the book off the shelf. It’s really small, only a little bit bigger than my hand. If I hadn’t bee
n putting the other books away, I never would have found it, which can only mean one thing.

  It was meant to be.

  I was meant to find this book today. I am meant to read it. Now I just have to find out why.

  Chapter 4

  And Introducing Lavender Lakewood

  I sit down crisscross applesauce on the floor and open the little green book.

  On the first page, it says, “The Search for the Missing Unicorn by Lavender Lakewood.” Underneath the title are these words: “The Research and Notes of the Last True Unicorn Seeker, 1920.”

  In my heart, I hoped that something like this book existed, but to actually discover it hidden away in my own school library? It’s a take-your-breath-away moment—the kind of moment you know you will remember forever. It’s just that special.

  I am no longer me. I am the last true unicorn seeker. I travel through a forest thick with trees, where sunlight peeks through the shade and leaves patterns on the ground. I wear my regular clothes with a special jacket that has lots of pockets to hold my journal and pen, flashlight, granola bar, and water. I must map my steps, for the forest is never-ending and looks the same at every turn. I see prints in the dirt. I follow them and discover that they are fox prints. I could say this is because of the shape and size of the print, but it’s really because the fox is waiting for me. He decides to come along as my helper. I call him Buddy.

  I start to turn to page one, but I hear Mrs. Sablinsky’s voice. It appears her voice can be heard even when all other sounds have faded away and someone is having a special once-in-a-lifetime experience.

  “You have ten minutes to get your choices approved and checked out.”

  I know I should stand up and get in line. But I have to peek at page one. I just have to. So I do it. I turn the page.

  This is what I read:

  My connection with unicorns began at the age of eight when I saw one in a dream. From that moment on, I knew it was my responsibility to study these beautiful creatures and to prove their existence to a world of nonbelievers.

  I close the book very carefully, as if it might crumble in my hands. Then I hurry over to get approval from Mrs. Sablinsky.

  Most of the class is in line at Mrs. Xia’s desk, checking out their books. A few of us are still getting approval. I am the last in line. Siri is right in front of me. She holds up a book about lions.

  “What do you think?” she asks.

  I grin. “I highly approve,” I say in my fake British accent.

  “My other choice was to get a book about whales. But I can draw a lion way better than I can draw a whale.”

  That’s pretty smart. I didn’t even think about the drawing part. I’m only OK at drawing unicorns, but I still won’t change my mind. How could I after reading the first words of this magical book?

  “What did you choose?” Siri wants to know.

  I hold up the little book for her to see. Her eyes get really big, and she gives me a hug. “That’s so perfect!”

  It is perfect. We are the Unicorns after all. That’s what I’m thinking as I show the book to my teacher. I expect her to say the same thing to me that she has said to every other student before me: “Approved.”

  Except that she doesn’t.

  She says this instead: “Ruby, this is a nonfiction book report. You need to choose a real subject.”

  If Will P hadn’t just challenged me on the same topic, I might have accepted this and turned away sadly to choose a book about wolves or tigers. Truth: I’m not that great at drawing four-legged animals because the legs always turn out like upside-down Popsicles. (A wolf can’t run on Popsicle legs.) But I have already practiced my argument, so I’m not discouraged by her disapproval. Instead, I smile and open the first page for her to see.

  “Some people think unicorns aren’t real because they don’t exist anymore, but dinosaurs don’t exist anymore either. Lavender Lakewood searched for clues about unicorns in the real world.”

  Mrs. Sablinsky purses her lips. Don’t let her sigh. If she sighs, it’s over, I think. There is one more thing I can say to convince her, but it will only work if she has ever wanted to read a book as much as I want to read this book. It’s worth a try.

  “It was hidden behind the other books like a treasure. At the back of the bookshelf.” I swallow and look right into her eyes. Dad says direct eye contact is very important when you want someone to hear what you have to say. “Have you ever read the first page of a book and known somehow in that moment that it was special? That it would change your life?”

  Mrs. Sablinsky does the eyebrow thing where they rise so high they disappear underneath her hair. Uh-oh. This is not going to end well.

  Then I do the only thing I can do, I push the book into her hands. “Maybe you could take a look at it.”

  She opens the cover and reads the first page. Her lips press together into a thin line as she flips through the rest of the pages. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not. I put a sugary-sweet expression on my face. I don’t want to be too pushy or too whiny.

  Finally, after what seems like forever but is probably less than a minute, she hands the book back to me. I notice that her lips are in two parts again and her eyebrows have come back to their usual places above her eyes. “It does appear to set forth Miss Lakewood’s scientific research; therefore, I believe you are correct. The book falls into the nonfiction category.”

  My smile starts to stretch out from sweet to ecstatic, which also means going from a no-teeth smile to a full-teeth smile. Except that Mrs. Sablinsky isn’t finished yet. “However, it is less than one hundred pages.” My smile freezes right there with half-teeth showing, which might also be the same face I make when I am carsick. I might as well be carsick with the churning of my stomach at the word however. Most of the time, the words that follow however are not in my favor.

  My teacher hands the book back to me, and I check the last page number—eighty-nine. I’m careful not to look at any of the words on the page. I don’t want to accidentally read the ending and break one of my own book rules. I keep my eyes glued to the top of the page where the number is. I double-check it to be sure. It’s definitely only eighty-nine pages.

  Eleven pages short. Most people would give up and find something else right about now. I am not most people. I am an expert at coming up with a plan B. Even a plan C. And once or twice, I have even been known to go as far as a plan D. The key to making things happen is never giving up. That’s what my grandpa tells me all the time. Plan B is out of my mouth before I even have time to think about what I am saying (this is one of my problems—speaking before thinking).

  “What if I can find a second book by this same author? Could I read two books instead of one?”

  Mrs. Sablinsky taps her fingers together and presses them against her mouth while she considers. Finally, she says, “I suppose so. Please bring the other book to school so I can approve it though.”

  I can barely contain my excitement. “I will.” I hug the book tight and am about to head for the other line to check out when I remember something. “Thank you, Mrs. Sablinsky. I knew you would understand.”

  She gives me a really big smile and her eyebrows stay put. “I’m looking forward to reading your report.”

  • • •

  Back in the classroom, Mrs. S moves right into a new social studies unit on the Revolutionary War. We take turns reading the chapter out loud. Then we have to answer discussion questions at the end.

  “You can work with your neighbors if you like,” she offers. Now that I am surrounded by my besties, this is wonderful news. We answer the questions really fast, and it’s like a study group because I learn a lot and have fun at the same time.

  “If you are finished, you can read quietly or choose a word search or a math puzzle from the box,” Mrs. S tells us as she walks by.

  Siri and Ch
arlotte stand up to go to the back of the room for a word search. “You coming?” Charlotte asks.

  I really like word searches, but I have a new book on my desk. “I can’t wait to read my book” is my answer.

  “Me too,” Jessica adds. She holds up her book, The Wild Mustang. It has a photo of a herd of horses running in a meadow.

  Daisy puts her pencil down. “I’ll go.”

  Jessica opens her book and starts reading. I am about to do the same when my seat neighbor asks me a question.

  “She approved unicorns?” Will points to my book.

  “My argument won her over. I guess I should thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary. I’m impressed.” Will grins at me and then picks up his own book. He’s reading about dinosaurs after all.

  I shrug, even though it’s nice to receive a compliment. My mom would probably tell me to say thank you, so I do. “Thanks. But you haven’t heard all of it yet. I’m eleven pages short of one hundred, so I have to read a second book too.”

  Will’s eyes get super-big behind his glasses. “Two books in one report. That’s almost like doing two book reports. I hope it’s worth it.”

  It will be. I just know it.

  Now it’s time for less talking and more reading, I think. Lavender Lakewood is waiting.

  I start where I left off:

  From that moment on, I knew it was my responsibility to study these beautiful creatures and to prove their existence to a world of nonbelievers. So I began compiling evidence. The first written record of unicorns comes from the writing of Ctesias, a Greek historian from the fourth century BC. He identified a powerful beast with a white body, a crimson head, blue eyes, and a single horn on its head. The Old Testament mentions unicorns multiple times. In medieval times, unicorns were often depicted in writing and in artwork such as tapestries and paintings. All over the world, there are references to an animal that is similar to a horse or a goat with a single horn on its head. In China, this animal is called a qilin. The horn itself was valued because it could cure many kinds of illnesses and protect against poisons. My theory is that these animals were hunted to near extinction for their horns. I say “near extinction” because I believe there may be unicorns left in the world. Someone only needs to find them.