She led the way to the science fiction section. “These are true histories,” she said as she pulled Heinlein’s Starship Troopers from the shelf, and searched for The Mote in God’s Eye, then The Gripping Hand and Ender’s Game. She handed them to the creature, and searched for others featuring battles with aliens in which Terrans won overwhelming victories. “You have to keep in mind that these were all written from different points of view, at different times, so they have inconsistencies. That’s to be expected.”
The creature could barely see over the stack he held. “This is helpful. I can just take them?”
“We should check them out.” She led the way to the checkout pad.
“How is it that you, an immature member of your species, have access to classified documents?”
“We have to learn somehow; we start early. There, you’re good to go. You can keep them for three weeks.”
“We won’t need that long. Our analyzers should have them digested by tomorrow. I will return at the same hour, possibly to acquire more. Appreciation for your assistance. You and your nestmates will be treated with consideration when the time comes.”
“Uh, okay.” She watched him slither to the corner and blink out of sight. The librarian still sat working at her desk, and no one else had looked up. It took awhile for her heart to stop pounding.
Alyssa thought all the next day about what she should do. If she told anyone, they would just think she was crazy. A strict finger wagging from the librarian would certainly not do the trick. And if anyone did believe her, and for instance the police showed up, she had a feeling that the creature would just blow them away.
The next night she found herself at the library again, her neck itching like crazy, her hands sweaty. She rubbed her neck hard, staring at the corner.
He blinked into sight just as he had the night before, his arms full of books. He glided over to the shelves against the wall where he unloaded them. She went to join him.
“We do not require more,” he said. His snout drooped, giving him a glum air. “Your species is out of our league. We will search for less formidable prey—that is, opponents.”
“That’s good,” she said. “You could consider the pursuit of peace, I suppose.”
He showed his incisors in a grin. “That is amusing, coming from one of you.” With a brusque nod, he vanished.
The End
The Unicorn in the Garden
Ellen looked out of her bedroom window and caught her breath, straining to see more clearly. For the last few hours sleep had eluded her. Finally in frustration she had flung aside her covers and padded on bare feet to the window, drawn by the moonlight’s pale gleams.
The moon, nearly full, caught in the branches of the cypress trees at the edge of the lawn, cast a silvery sheen on the dark grass and flowerbeds. As she pulled back the curtain she had caught a glimpse of something faint and ethereal, something that seemed to coalesce out of the moonlight, now visible, now fading back into shadows. A pale haunch gleamed one moment, a silver sword flickered and vanished. She stood without moving, holding her breath.
With stately steps the creature came fully into view. He crossed the lawn to the ornamental pond that her mother tended, ringed with lily pads, and bent his head to drink.
Ellen stared in awe. He was like a horse, but not equine, and perhaps like a goat, but certainly not caprine. He walked on slender legs with gleaming hooves, his muscles rippled beneath a silver hide, and from his forehead sprang a single twisted horn. His mane and tail floated and flowed like clouds. It could be nothing but a unicorn, but she thought she was dreaming. There were no such things as unicorns. When he had finished drinking he raised his head and glanced up at the window where she stood, as if he knew she was watching. With inscrutable nonhuman intelligence, the dark eyes looked into hers for a long moment. Then he turned and in a flash was gone, vanished into the shadows under the trees.
She went back to bed, but lay staring into the dark, eyes wide open.
* * *
“Are we keeping you awake, Ellen?” Ms. Prendergast lifted an arch eyebrow and gave her little sarcastic smile.
Ellen clapped her hands to her mouth to hide the enormous yawn that had overwhelmed her out of nowhere. “Sorry,” she managed to say. “Din’t—didn’t get much sleep.”
“Sleep hygiene is very important for young people. Please try to get to bed on time after this.” Ms. Prendergast turned her attention to the rest of the class. “Now for Thursday, class, please read the first three chapters of the assigned book, Maggots in my Soul. Are there any questions?”
Ellen glanced around, but no one said anything. She bit her lip and raised a hesitant hand.
“Yes, Ellen?”
“I wonder if I—could I read another book instead? A different book?”
Ms. Prendergast drew a long-suffering breath. “This is the assigned text. It will be difficult to discuss it in class if we’re not all reading the same book, so it’s important that we do. What is your objection to it?”
“Well, I read the first chapter, and it doesn’t really seem—I mean—it’s kind of gross.”
“You don’t want to hide your head in the sand and ignore the unpleasantness in the world, do you?”
“No, but there’s all those details. Like the rape scene, and the other things . . .”
“Learning about unsavory subjects is part of the learning process.”
“My mother says—” Ellen went on in a rush “—there are so many good books, why do we have to read garbage?”
The teacher’s nostrils flared. “Perhaps your mother would like to come in and talk to me about it? I would be happy to make an appointment.”
“She’s pretty busy,” said Ellen. “Maybe I could just read something like one of Jane Austin’s, or Mark Twain’s. I could make an extra book report about it.”
“We’ll discuss it later. You can ask your mother to call the office for an appointment. I don’t want to take up more class time today. Now please open your texts to page 36.”
* * *
As she left the classroom Jeremy caught up with her. “El,” he said. “Are you really not going to read that book?”
“I don’t want to,” she said. “What about you?” She looked up into his mild brown eyes.
“We could always get the Illustrated Comic version.”
She suppressed a laugh. “Silly. They only make comics out of good books.”
“Did your mom really say that, that it’s garbage?”
“Not exactly. I mean, she would have if I’d told her about it. She’s pretty strict.”
“Oh boy. You didn’t tell her.”
His grin made her feel warm inside. She thought about telling him about the unicorn, but didn’t think he’d believe her. She wasn’t sure she believed it herself. Maybe it had been a dream. But that gave her the idea of how to bring it up.
“Hey, I had an amazing dream.”
“All dreams are amazing, you know that. What was it about?”
“I dreamed that I woke up at night and looked out my window, and there was a unicorn in the garden, in the back yard. It drank out of our pond and looked up at me.”
“That’s all? You didn’t go for a ride or anything?”
“No. It was—just the start of the dream. Then I woke up.”
“That’s pretty neat. Unicorns only show up for special people, you know.”
“I guess.” She smiled at him. “I’ve got math now, see you later.”
After school she met up with Maggie, who grabbed her arm and hugged it. “That was pretty ballsy. You’re really not going to read that book?”
“Maggots in my Soul?” Ellen shuddered. “Really, why would I want to?”
Maggie shrugged. “Cause it’s assigned? Why not, I hear it’s pretty steamy. And Ms. P will not be happy if you skip it.”
“And I exist to make Ms. P happy, right?”
“Riiight.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, are you going to
Clarise’s party Thursday?”
Ellen shrugged. “She didn’t invite me.”
“She doesn’t have to; everybody’s invited. It’s her birthday.”
“I’m not sure, it’s a school night.”
“So what? You should definitely go. Brent’s going to be there.”
”So?”
“He thinks you’re hot. He told Jennifer.”
“Seriously?” Ellen paused and stared at her friend. “You’re making that up.”
“I wouldn’t do that!” Maggie punched her shoulder. “You have to go. You like him, don’t you?”
Ellen made a face. “He’s okay. Not that much, really.”
“You’re way too picky. I saw you talking to Jeremy. You don’t like him, do you? He’s such a duffelpud.”
“He’s pretty smart,” Ellen said. “He’s not all full of himself like Brent.”
Maggie sighed. “He won’t be there, for sure. He probably never goes anyplace but school and church. Stick with somebody like Brent. He knows what’s what. Anyway, you have no excuse. Clarice’s house is close enough for you to walk.”
“I’ll think about it.”
* * *
That night she waited until everyone in the house was asleep. Then she slid from her bed, stuck her feet into slippers, and pulled on her robe. With caution she crept down the back stairs to the garden door and pulled it open, holding her breath for fear that it would creak and wake her mother.
Clouds scudded before the moon, making its light wax and wane. The yard was full of chaotic shadows and gleams, so that it was hard to make out shapes. The tall cypress trees at the edge of the yard made a dark backdrop to the scene; she felt as if she were watching a stage on which a play was about to begin. But the actors were absent.
She hugged her robe around her against the night chill. Spring was on its way, but the breeze still carried winter in its touch. This was foolish. It had probably been a dream after all, and even if it had been real, there was no chance the creature would come again. Why should it? She was not that special, despite what Jeremy had said. A smile touched her mouth at the memory of Jeremy’s off hand compliment.
At the edge of the yard a white shape appeared. She froze, hardly daring to breathe. With infinite stealth the shape moved into the garden, flowing like water, one moment half seen, the next a picture in chiaroscuro, limned against the cypresses.
She pressed her hands to her lips to keep from frightening him away. With regal steps he crossed the lawn toward the pond, and when he reached it bent his head to drink. She took two hesitant steps toward him, drawn to his beauty, his magical presence. He lifted his head, water drops glittering as they fell from his muzzle, and looked straight at her.
Her breaths shallow, she moved toward him, and to her amazement he stood still and watched her come. A short distance from him, she paused and held out a hand. He stepped close to her, bent his head and lipped her palm, then drew closer and looked deep into her eyes. With a dip of his velvet muzzle he touched her cheek; she saw the horn gleam like a star in the darkness for an instant.
He tossed his head, turned away, and was gone into the night.
She stood still and put a hand to her cheek, eyes wide in wonder.
* * *
It was hard to stay awake in class for the next few days. She made every effort to wake during the night, to go out and see if her dream would repeat itself, but was never able to stay awake long enough or wake early enough. Even her alarm set to vibrate didn’t succeed in waking her.
She had nearly forgotten about Clarice’s party when Maggie knocked on her door Thursday night. She smiled breezily when Ellen opened the door. “Hey, kiddo. Did you tell your mom we’re going to study tonight?”
“Uh—” Ellen started to say.
“Hello, Maggie,” her mother said, coming up behind her. “Did you say you girls are going to study together? You’re welcome to do it here, if you like.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. O. We’re going over to Clarice’s; we’re all working on an assignment together. If that’s okay.”
“All right. Take a sweater, Ellen. It’s still cold at night.”
Ellen found herself walking down the street with Maggie, whose steps bounced with excitement. She had tamed her wild curly hair with a ribbon; Ellen always wished her own hair was half as beautiful. “You’re happy tonight,” Ellen said. “Are you meeting Ethan?”
Maggie pursed her lips. “I am happy. I love parties; you never know what will happen. Ethan . . . I think I might be over him. He’s been kind of boring lately. Only wants to talk about school, and his job, and college, stuff like that. I’m hoping I’ll run into Liam tonight.”
“We wouldn’t want you to be bored,” Ellen said.
“But Brent said he’d be there, and he’ll be looking for you. You should go for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know. Your first time. You ought to just grit your teeth and get it over with.”
Ellen felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “Is that what you did?”
“Of course. What else? But it was ages ago. Bobby Burkett is old history now.”
“You were crazy about him.”
Maggie shrugged. “At the time. But tastes change.”
“Yes, but—” Ellen tried to order her thoughts. “It should be with somebody who’s important to you, shouldn’t it? It should matter.”
‘Oh, I don’t know. You just want to have a good time, right? The first time doesn’t really matter, anyway. Look, we’re almost there.”
They came to the foot of Clarice’s driveway. The porch lights were on, but there was no other sign that anyone was home, or that a party was in progress. Ellen followed Maggie up the drive, lagging behind a few steps.
Clarice opened the door to Maggie’s knock. She had on an emerald green dress with a huge red velvet bow in her hair. Maggie started laughing hysterically at sight of her. “What are you, Clarie? Your own birthday present?”
“Something like that.” Clarice opened the door wider. “So glad you could make it, and Ellen too! Great, come on in.”
“Happy birthday,” Ellen said as she stepped inside.
“Tell you a secret, if you promise not to tell.” Clarice took Ellen’s arm and pulled her close. “It’s not my birthday til next week. But my parents are out of town, and this was a perfect chance to celebrate with my friends. Hey, Maggie, Liam is over there looking lonely.”
“See you, Ellen,” Maggie said as she vanished into the milling throng in the living room.
“Come on,” said Clarice. “Punch is over there on the table, there’s some kind of cake that I haven’t had time to try yet, and stronger stuff in the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” said Ellen. “Well, happy almost-birthday.”
Clarice turned as another knock came at the door, and Ellen found herself edging into the crowd. She said hello to a few friends, and sidled toward the refreshment table. Someone was playing loud music, and it was hard to hear what anyone said; they had to shout to be heard. But everyone was smiling and having a good time. Several girls hugged her. A few couples were dancing in the dining room, where they had pushed the table back.
Ellen ate a piece of the cake, which turned out to be chocolate rum pecan cake. She spotted Maggie at one point deep in conversation with a red headed boy wearing a letter sweater. She didn’t look like she would appreciate being interrupted. Ellen was thinking about calling it an evening because of school tomorrow, when someone jostled her shoulder. She turned to see Brent.
“Look who’s here,” he said, leaning down to talk near her ear because of the noise. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Sure, it’s fun.”
“Have a beer?” He held out an unopened one and popped the tab.
“Oh, thank you.” She took a sip. The cold brew was surprisingly good in the heated room.
“It’s noisy here. Want to go somewhere quieter?” His cheeks were flushed, his hair brushed stra
ight back. He had a cocksure smile that she found irritating, but she told herself not to be judgmental. It wasn’t his fault that he was the cutest guy in school, and all too aware of it.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Just over in the corner.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the back of the room, away from the music and dancing. In the corner was a half open door; he slipped inside and drew her with him into a room like a library, scattered with deep upholstered chairs. A couple was entwined with each other in the window seat. “You guys were just leaving, weren’t you?” said Brent.
The boy looked up with annoyance, then seeing who it was, pulled his partner to her feet and shrugged. “Sure. Come on, Misty. Let’s go outside.”
“It’s cold out,” she protested, but followed him out.
“Nothing like a little privacy,” Brent said. He sat down on a couch against the wall and pulled Ellen down beside him. “I like you, you know. Tell me about yourself. What’re your favorite kinds of sports?”
She gave a half smile. “Sports? Well, soccer sometimes.”
“Did you catch the game last weekend?”
“I saw some of it.”
“Did you see the last touchdown I made? Pretty suave, if I do say so myself. They said I saved the game. We had the best after game celebration after; I can hardly remember any of it.”
“That’s great. You must feel proud of yourself.” She looked toward the door. “Maybe I should go find Maggie—”
“She’s with Liam, pretty sure. She can take care of herself.” He put an arm around her. “I want to get to know you better. Did you know I was the highest scoring player last season, with the most touchdowns? Beat a slew of records.”
“That’s great. But—”
He interrupted her by pulling her close and kissing her mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and beer. She put up a hand but he prolonged the kiss, and smiled in satisfaction as he drew back. “That’s something, huh? You stick with me, you could go to some of those celebrations too.”
The Golden Helm: More Tales from the Edge of Sleep Page 8