“Hello, my name is Duchess. Hello, my name is Duchess. Hello! My name! Is DUCHESS!”
“Stop it,” said a voice from the final stall. I glanced in: The voice was coming from a beautiful golden Standard Griffin. The Griffin stood perfectly still with his eyes closed as his handler ran water between the Griffin’s feathered ears. He barely opened his beak to complain, “No more.”
“I’m so beautiful,” Duchess told the bucket.
“Oh, please,” said the Griffin, voice dry and grim.
“You’re number one,” Duchess added.
“Make her stop,” said the Griffin.
“Look at those eyes!” Duchess continued to her reflection.
“I beg you,” the Griffin pleaded.
“Duchess, Duchess, Duchess,” Duchess said.
“Unicorns are the worst,” the Griffin muttered.
“This is Duchess,” Marisol told me and Tomas.
So I heard, I thought. I was a little annoyed to see that Duchess was as beautiful as she’d been telling herself. She was a pale purple color, like the underside of a cloud at sunset, except for her knees, muzzle, and mane, which were all silvered. Her face was delicately dished and her eyes were large and lustrous.
Marisol regarded the Unicorn proudly. “She’s not as uniquely colored as your Regent Maximus, of course, but she has really good lines and does well in the agility contest.”
“She’s beautiful. What does she have to do to win the Trident? Trot around the ring like the other creatures we saw?”
“Oh, no! The Trident is much more involved. There are three rounds. Round one is just a simple trot around the ring. Round two is an agility course. And round three is the princess round. They add all the scores up to find a winner. Here—” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and showed me a Triple Trident Unicorn Show bulletin. It’d clearly been folded and refolded a bunch of times.
I studied the bulletin, then handed it back. “So what happens if Duchess wins? Is there another contest after the Trident?” I asked.
Marisol shrugged. “Oh, sure, every state has one, though the Trident is especially prestigious. If she doesn’t do well, we’ll probably sell her, since she’s getting a little old.”
“Sell her!” Tomas said in a shocked voice. I was glad he was as surprised as I was. I was also glad Duchess couldn’t understand what Marisol was saying.
Marisol stepped back, alarmed at his tone. “Oh—um. That’s sort of how it works. You can’t keep every Unicorn, so you only hang on to your top winners. Another stable without as many well-bred Unicorns would love to have one like Duchess!”
“But don’t you … don’t you care about her?” I asked.
Now Marisol looked hurt. “Of course! But that’s how the show world runs—there’s not enough room to keep every Unicorn forever. Besides, we wouldn’t just sell her to anyone. She’d go to a wonderful stable. And she’d be the most beautiful Unicorn there—I think she’d like that.”
At that moment, Duchess was singing a little song. “From the tip of my horn to the end of my tail, compared to me, all the others are snails!”
She really would like being the most beautiful in a stable. Still, it seemed a little strange. I guess I was used to thinking of magical creatures as part of the family, not something you could just get rid of if you didn’t have room. I didn’t think Regent Maximus would care about being the most beautiful in a stable. I think he cared more about who else was in the stable with him.
Marisol tapped on a blue wooden star on Duchess’s stall door, right beneath the plaque with her longer, fancier show name written on it. “See this? A few people have talked to my parents about her already, but we’re going to wait and see how she does.”
Tomas’s expression had clouded over. “The star means she’s for sale?”
Marisol nodded.
“For all Unicorns, that’s what the star means? That they’re for sale?” Tomas asked again.
Marisol looked a little confused, but then she nodded again, a bit slower this time—like Tomas might not be understanding her.
“All Unicorns with a star—” Tomas went on.
I jumped in, “Are for sale, Tomas. What’s up?”
Without another word, he jogged back down the Unicorn aisle. I bolted after him, only catching up as he skidded to a stop in front of Regent Maximus’s stall.
He pointed.
Right beside Regent Maximus’s name was a blue wooden star.
“But he can’t just sell Regent Maximus!” I said the next morning.
We were all in the car headed back to the next day of the show; it was another sunny, muggy day. Callie, looking fresh-faced once more, sat in the passenger seat, savoring the air-conditioning while it lasted. In the backseat next to me, Tomas dug through his backpack of emergency supplies.
“Pip, just because he’s available for sale doesn’t mean he’ll be sold. And besides, Regent Maximus isn’t exactly … um … well, let’s just say I don’t think there will be lots of potential buyers.” Aunt Emma paused to shout at a passing driver—Aunt Emma’s normally unflappable exterior vanished only when confronted with other drivers—and then, in a calmer voice, she added, “Anyway, Mr. Henshaw spent a lot of money on Regent Maximus, hoping for a Unicorn he could have fun with at shows. That hasn’t quite worked out. If Regent Maximus doesn’t win, Mr. Henshaw will have to get back his money somehow—and selling Regent Maximus, even at a lower price, will help. I don’t want you to be upset if Mr. Henshaw does decide to sell Regent Maximus to a home that will better appreciate Regent Maximus’s … personality!”
Tomas and I exchanged a resentful look.
“How about we stop for some sweet tea on the way?” Aunt Emma pulled into a little, faded service station. “Let’s not let this ruin your day.”
“I want soda,” Callie replied.
“I’m fine with water,” Tomas said. “I don’t want to get high blood sugar.”
“I do,” said Callie.
Aunt Emma opened the car door, letting in a wave of heat. “Okay, so soda for Callie, water for Tomas, tea for me and Pip. Oh, hey, Pip, while you’re waiting, you and Tomas should look at your map and find the Glimmerbeast area. Don’t forget you promised to see if Mariah wanted any help with her Rockshines.”
I had totally forgotten. It was a little annoying to think I had to do that when Regent Maximus clearly needed our help, but I guessed I had said I’d come find her.
Aunt Emma headed into the service station. As soon as she had gone, Callie twisted in her seat. “Is it true? Did you really meet the Prince Temujin? And steal his scarf? Do you even know who he is?”
“One of the Unicorn judges?” I replied.
“OTHER THAN THAT?”
“A prince?” Tomas offered.
“OTHER THAN THAT?”
We blinked at her.
“Of course you two little raccoons have no idea,” she said. “His mother is the Diana Kiley. Don’t just stare at me! You have to know who she is?”
We blinked at her.
“Ugh, well, Diana Kiley is basically my hero. She originated the starring roles in all my favorite Broadway shows. I have to meet Prince Temujin— if he likes me, maybe he’ll introduce me to Diana! Or at least pass on my headshot. Some people say I look like a younger version of her, you know.” She pulled her hair over her shoulder and pursed her lips. “Connections are very important when you’re going to be an actress.”
“What is he the prince of?” Tomas asked. I was glad he asked, because I wanted to know too.
“Galatolia,” Callie said. “It’s near Turkey or something. I think. It’s not very big, and I don’t think it has a lot of money—”
“Galatolia!” I exclaimed. “The five largest endangered magical creatures are from Galatolia! Jeffrey Higgleston calls it ‘the Little Country with a Big Problem’!”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s what you know. Just don’t cause a scene today, all right? Don’t steal h
is scarf or his car or whatever. I don’t want him to remember me for that.”
We hadn’t really been the ones to cause the scene yesterday, but there was no point telling Callie that. Also, today was the first round of competition for Regent Maximus, which meant there was a good chance that he might cause yet another scene, but there was also no point in telling Callie that either.
As she swiveled back around in her seat, I turned to Tomas and said urgently, “Tomas, we have to make sure Regent Maximus does a good job at the Trident.”
Tomas didn’t say anything out loud, but his expression said clearly that he was remembering saving me from a trampling Unicorn only the day before.
“I’m not saying he has to win the entire show! But there’s no way Mr. Henshaw will want to keep him if Regent Maximus just shakes and hides and quivers around the ring. We’ve helped Regent Maximus be brave before. Maybe we can train him up to be a real show Unicorn!”
“Are you talking about a different Regent Maximus?” Tomas asked.
“Tomas!”
“Okay, okay.” Tomas held up his hands. “But I don’t know the first thing about training Unicorns. Do you?”
“Nope,” I said, digging into my backpack. “But Jeffery Higgleston does! There’s an entire section in the Guide.” I flipped through it hurriedly. Buried deep in the fat Guide section on Unicorns were a few pages on training.
“Here!” I said triumphantly, opening the book in my lap to show him.
Tomas leaned toward me to look at the Guide. “I’m not really sure Regent Maximus is meant to mince.”
“Sure he is! He’s a show Unicorn!” I said, but as I flipped through the pages, I had to admit that these tips didn’t seem like the sort that would help a Unicorn like Regent Maximus. He was probably afraid of glitter, for starters, so I didn’t see how tossing it at his hooves would accomplish anything but him fleeing in terror. Without much conviction, I added, “Anyway, all he has to do in this round is make it through one lap around the ring.”
Aunt Emma opened the door, her arms full of drinks. “I’m back! You guys ready?”
“There is no getting ready for this,” Tomas replied darkly.
It wasn’t like he was wrong.
We went to Regent Maximus’s stall right away, and when I explained to him that we were going to help him do a lap with confidence, he seemed on board. He even did a cheerful spin, being careful not to touch the walls. Once he found out, however, that the show lap had to take place outside of his stall, his good mood vanished.
“What?!” Regent Maximus cried. “Outside?”
“It’s nearly as easy as walking a circle in your stall!” I insisted.
“Noooooooooooooooo.” His whinny echoed down the hall as Tomas came back with a few bottles of water.
“I’m guessing this isn’t going very well?” Tomas asked. “Here, have some water. Hydration is important.”
I accepted a bottle of water, even though I didn’t think hydration would help my current problem. “Would you read what the Guide says about this again? It’s just out there.”
I had propped the Guide to Magical Creatures on two lavender bales outside the stall. Tomas leaned down to read it out loud. The first section was on training a Unicorn to walk on a lead in the “show style,” which was a sort of high-step prancy walk.
In a cheery voice, I said, “Did you hear that, Regent Maximus? If you do a lap around the show ring, we’ll get you some fresh honeycomb!”
Regent Maximus sank down low into his lavender bedding and wailed, “How will I be able to eat it? I’ll surely be dead by then.”
“No, you’ll be fine,” I continued soothingly. “Just imagine that honeycomb. Dripping with honey. Oozing with honey.”
He managed to shiver with worry and drool with anticipation at the same time. “Can I get the honeycomb now? It’ll be a good last meal. If I don’t choke on it.”
“Only after.”
Regent Maximus laid his head on the bedding and closed his eyes.
“I don’t think honeycomb or candied apples are going to do it,” I told Tomas. “What else does it say?”
“Nothing. Do you think there’s something he wants more than honeycomb or candied apples?”
“Is there something you’d like more than honeycomb or apples?” I asked the Unicorn, but he didn’t lift his head. He looked as if he had been dropped from a very great height and now was embedded in the lavender.
Both Tomas and I turned our attention to Callie, who was approaching. She’d put on so much shiny lip gloss that her mouth sort of looked like a piece of watermelon.
“Hey, Pip-squeak,” Callie said, “Oh, and you too, Tomas, I guess. Mom says you’re late. You’re supposed to be over in the Shinyrock or Rockyshines or whatever-they’re-called’s pen helping Ms. Gould, remember?”
“I remember,” I said. “We just wanted to try to work with Regent Maximus a little beforehand.”
Callie eyed the Unicorn, who had not moved except to open his eyes. “It looks like it’s going really great.”
“He’s thinking,” I said. “Regent Maximus, we’ll be back, okay?”
“Doom,” Regent Maximus whispered into the bedding. “Doom doom doom.”
Tomas opened and closed the stall door for me as I left the Unicorn behind, still murmuring “Doom” into the ground. I didn’t want Callie to talk anymore about how the training was going—or rather, not going—so I asked quickly, “Have you, uh, seen the prince?”
Callie brightened. “No. But I have nearly learned how to sing the Galatolia national anthem! I need to keep practicing the high E over C part. Want to hear?”
I had heard a lot of Callie’s singing since I had come to stay in Cloverton. And it wasn’t that she was bad. It was just … a lot of singing.
“Rockshines,” Tomas said, as either a reminder or a rescue.
“Yeah, we gotta go!” I said. “I’ll hear it later!”
As we sprinted off, I heard the Unicorns groan in near unison as Callie launched into the Galatolia national anthem anyhow.
“Doom,” sang Regent Maximus, in the same key as Callie. He hit the high E over C perfectly. “Doom!”
When Tomas and I arrived at the Glimmerbeast area, it appeared as if half the pens were empty. After that day with Ms. Gould at the clinic, I knew better, though. The pens were full of invisible Glimmerbeasts.
It was a very odd sight. Some pens were full of floating collars. Some were full of floating harnesses. The strangest was a pen that was labeled Zundersnouts. They must have been tagged, because dark, ghostly numbers hung in the air.
I tried to get excited about helping out with the Rockshines—as excited as I’d felt that first day—but I kept thinking about Regent Maximus whispering, “Doom,” and Mr. Henshaw selling him. In comparison, the Rockshines seemed incredibly unimportant.
“What do Rockshines look like when they’re visible?” Tomas asked, with a wary glance at a pen that contained an equal number of visible and invisible Shadyhogs.
I didn’t want to tell him the truth, which was: They looked boring. Like slow, unmagical sheep. The invisible part was interesting, but otherwise, they were big, clumsy, and unclever. They didn’t seem to have anything interesting to say. All they wanted to do was eat and be left alone. Anything that got in the way of that made them go invisible.
“They’re, uh, brown,” I said. “Ish. Brownish. And … round? Roundish.”
“Over there?” Tomas pointed. Sure enough, I could see some brownish forms, and as we got closer, I could hear: “Heeeyyyy! Heeey. HEEEEEEEY? Heeeey.”
“Pip! It’s Pip, right?” Mariah Gould’s voice carried over the sounds of the Rockshine’s shouts. “I’m glad you made it!”
Now that we were close to the Rockshines, Tomas was staring at them. The entire herd was visible as far as I could tell, standing up to their knees in ordinary hay, chewing slowly and occasionally saying, “Heeeeey.” They came in brown and gray and brownish gray and grayish b
rown. A few of them had clearly been groomed for the show ring, which just meant they had a little less drool on their chins. The hay had completely captured their attention, and they didn’t look up as we talked.
Tomas stared at them. They stared at the hay.
“Sorry it took me so long to get over here!” I told Ms. Gould.
“I heard you were busy wrangling Unicorns!” Ms. Gould said, laughing at her own joke. “I’m so glad that you’ve come by to help, because I’ve got to run this paperwork over to the show office and the Rockshines need their eyes wiped down.”
The Rockshines blinked at Ms. Gould with gummy, bored eyes.
A building full of incredible animals and a stall full of a terrified Unicorn that needed me, and this was where I was. I wrinkled my nose.
Ms. Gould misunderstood my expression. “It’s not a hard job as long as you aren’t afraid of them. Oh, is this another helper too?”
Tomas peered up at her. “Do they bite?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “They’re very calm animals! Pip saw Bucky over there”—she paused to point at a Rockshine that looked like all of the other Rockshines—“at his worst, but that was because he was in an unfamiliar location away from the herd. All together like this? They are fairly unflappable.”
“Do they have fur or hair?” Tomas asked with a shrewd expression.
“I’m sorry?”
“Hair is hypoallergenic, usually,” Tomas said.
Ms. Gould looked glad to be asked. “Oh! Well, yes, their hide is more like hair. They’re a great livestock choice for people with allergies, because they don’t produce any irritating dander or—look at the time! I really better go run this to the office. Here are the rags to clean their eyes. If you run into any problems, just talk to Deedra over there with the Shadyhogs. She’ll help you out. Thanks again.”
After she had gone, I sighed. Even the Shadyhogs looked more interesting than the Rockshines … and they were all talking about varieties of dirt.
Pip Bartlett's Guide to Unicorn Training Page 4