The tiny unicorn looked sad for a moment but then she noticed a turnip that had fallen off the vegetable cart. She nudged it with her nose and started to munch it.
As usual, I was last in the carriage. Bertie rolled his eyes at Mum and Dad who were arguing in hushed voices about some blue stone and the weather. I pulled Jeb’s hood over his ears and turned towards the window. It wasn’t far to
Silver-Oak River. Even Mum and Dad couldn’t argue when the magnificent argento unicorns were about.
But the unicorns weren’t about. There was plenty of their rainbow glitter poop along the grassy riverbank but not a single unicorn.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Bertie, waving his notebook. ‘Their seasonal visit usually lasts at least two weeks. I’ve been recording it here in my natural history log since I was three years old. They don’t leave until they’ve eaten all the silver acorns. It’s the acorns that give their manes the silver hue.’
‘It is odd,’ Mum said, winding the carriage window down. ‘Very odd.’ She poked her head out of the window. ‘Pull over, please,’ she shouted to the coachman.
The coach trundled to a stop under the shade of a giant silvern-oak. I followed Mum out of the carriage, the acorns crunching under my feet. Jeb woofed. The knitted horn on his unicorn onesie bobbing from side to side, he ran in and out of the silver-grey trees. Mum smiled. But then she picked up one of the glittery silver acorns that were the favourite food of the unicorns and her expression changed.
‘Perfect,’ she said, pressing the acorn between her fingers and holding it up to the light. ‘Something must have startled them.’
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, pumpkin. But it takes a lot to startle a unicorn. As for scaring them enough to move on altogether before they’ve eaten all the acorns – that’s unheard of.’
‘Unheard of?’ I lifted up the hem of my frilly, satin dress and climbed awkwardly into the carriage, Jeb pushing past me to get the best seat. What I wouldn’t do for a pair of jeans.
‘Stop putting ideas into their heads,’ Dad said, folding up his copy of the Biscotti Herald. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Mum. She picked up Dad’s paper and flicked through the pages, stopping at a full-page picture of a cactus-like plant covered in small black flowers.
‘Wart blossom,’ Bertie gasped. ‘It grows in twenty-year cycles. It’s not due to flower for another two years.’
Dad tutted and folded up the paper, the pages catching in the breeze as the coachman set off again. ‘Nature is not a science,’ he said. ‘No doubt, all that rain we had brought it on.’
‘It’s used for dark magic,’ Bertie said.
‘And for good.’ Dad did a sort of sideways karate chop which meant the conversation was over.
I sank back into the soft velvet cushions and closed my eyes. I’d already done a full day on my BMX in Camden this morning. A double life was fun but hard work.
‘Those awful trolls.’ Mum coughed and wound up the window. She picked up Dad’s paper and wafted it in front of her nose, trying to get rid of the eggy pong coming from Swamp Diavolo, the flat marshland on the edge of Bourbon. She fingered the turquoise crystal she wore constantly around her neck. ‘But about the wart blossom,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to ask the Godfather—’
There was a flash of green light.
Dad cried out as the Godfather thudded through the roof of the carriage and landed sideways across his knee.
‘Someone say me name?’
Dad pushed the Godfather on to the floor. Barking excitedly, Jeb jumped from my knee and lay down on Nigel’s chest, snarling.
‘Behave, fluffball.’ The Godfather batted Jeb away. He dusted down his silver jumpsuit and crouched on one knee in front of Mum like he was about to propose. ‘Now what can I do for yer, Queenie.’
Mum opened the paper. ‘What do you make of this?’
‘Wart blossom – very good for sweaty armpits.’
Dad and Bertie stuck up their noses in unison.
‘You don’t think the fact it’s appearing all over the kingdom is strange?’
‘Bumper year. I know I’ll be stocking up. Sick of the missus smelling like death himself.’
Mum sighed. ‘But Nigel, it’s not due to flower for another two years? And what with the storm, and the unicorns disappearing.’
Nigel shrugged. ‘Coincidence, ma’am. That’s all. You don’t want to be reading owt into what those stuck-up ’orses with ’orns do – can’t trust a unicorn as far as you can throw it.’
‘But they’ve fed here since Biscotti began,’ Bertie said, taking his logbook out of his satchel.
‘Time they ’ad a change then, innit.’ Nigel drummed his fingers on the floor. ‘Now will that be all? Only I’m due to clock off in five minutes. It’s toad-racing night down the club.’
Mum stared at me intently. I stared back. ‘Are you sure there’s not something going on?’ she said.
‘Listen to the man,’ Dad said. ‘What’s the point calling him here if you don’t listen?’
The Godfather puffed his chest out importantly. ‘Too right, sire. Trust me. If there was anything going on, I’d know.’
Oh yay, oh yay with unicorn bells on, like how cool. Ethan has finally decided to race again. And you won’t believe it, but he’s brought me along to Leanne Valley to watch his training session. Awesome, or what? My eyes nearly popped out my head when I saw the track, twisting and coiling like a dusty beige snake around the stadium. It has this massive start hill – it’s so big it’s practically a mountain. That’s where Ethan is now, lined up with the other riders . . .
Troll poop – I covered my eyes with my hands
– Ethan was last out the gate again. But by the good goblin, he soon caught up. He chased the other riders down the hill and into the long straight rhythm section, catching them on the berm, where he zoomed into first place. Like wow, he was fast: faster than a witch trying to get to the magic store sales.
I wandered over to him but the coach got there first. ‘Nice!’ He held his hand out and they thumped fists. ‘Bro, you have real talent. But you need to get your head around the gate.’
Ethan nodded. ‘You’re thinking too much. Buzzer, barrier, go!’ He patted Ethan on the shoulder and headed back towards the changing rooms.
I smiled at Ethan but he wouldn’t even look at me.
‘Are you, OK?’ I said. ‘Maybe the coach-man is right.’
‘What would you know? You’ve never even been in the gates. Coach-man – go back to your princess dress, why don’t you.’
‘Ethan—’ My throat tightened like I’d swallowed a piece of poisoned apple.
‘Go on then. Off you go. I knew I shouldn’t have brought you here.’
My cheeks burnt. Why was he taking it out on me? Go back to my princess dress?
Growling griffins, I’d show him.
Standing up on the start hill was like being on top of the world. Not because I could see lots, but because of the way it made me feel – brave and strong and daring like a knight about to go into battle. I may not have been in the gates before but I’d done enough sack-sledging to know something about take-offs.
I released the brake and went for it.
Blood thundered in my ears as I hurtled down the ramp, the pedals turning so fast my foot slipped. But no way was I going to brake. I hit the bottom and, finding my pedal again, sped towards the triple jump where I took the first hump and flew smoothly into the air, landing without even a wobble. Sick. I looked back over my shoulder to see if Ethan had noticed but I couldn’t see him. Instead, in the exact spot where he’d been standing was that creepy Odette woman from the park. And she was looking right at me.
My bike teetered like a one-legged dog. I tuned back into the track and straightened the handlebars. When I glanced towards the woman again, she was holding hands with a small child. What was wrong with me?! It wasn’t Odette at all. Ev
er since Kai had told me about her looking for me in the park, I’d been totally paranoid.
I quickened my pace, ready to take the jump. But it was too late. I’d lost too much speed. My bike slipped and I toppled sideways, landing on my hip. There was a screech followed by a thud and a wheel hit me in the back. Someone shouted stop!
‘Sorry,’ I cried to the rider who had fallen from her bike beside me. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hey, no probs.’ She stood up and offered me her hand. ‘But you should probably stick to the beginners’ sessions.’
How embarrassing! If I’d ever wanted a griffin to swoop down and swallow me it was now.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s OK, Ava.’ Ethan picked my bike up. ‘Come on.’
I hesitated for a moment, but the other BMXers were growing impatient. I took a deep breath and followed him over to the red plastic seats in the spectator area. He leant my bike against the barrier and sat down, tapping the space next to him.
‘I’m sorry, Ava.’
I shrugged. Saying sorry didn’t make the mean things Ethan had said go away.
‘It’s just the last time I raced here, I was with Dad.’
That was the first time I’d ever heard him talk about his dad.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘That must be hard.’
Ethan nodded. He stared down at the floor. I waited for him to tell me more but he didn’t, and a princess is not expected to pursue an issue when others wish the matter closed. What could I do to make him feel happy again? Nothing, really, but I could buy him pizza.
I wasn’t sure if it was the breeze that made me shiver or the buildings. There were three of them, flat-fronted towers the colour of waffle cones, reaching up to touch the sky. Ethan lived in the middle one. Its windows shone like cats’ eyes in moonlight, stealing the light. We climbed off our bikes and wheeled them through the entrance and towards the lifts.
The lift was like totally freaky. It just wasn’t natural to travel in a tiny silver box like that. I squeezed my eyelids tightly together refusing to open them until we shuddered to a stop on the twenty-first floor. Ethan gave me a few seconds to get it together, then led me along a narrow corridor lined with brown doors. At the end of the corridor he stopped. The fluorescent light above our head flickered and went out.
‘Great, just what we need, Mum coming home late down an unlit corridor. Now bring your bike in or it will get nicked.’
I pushed my bike into the magnolia hall.
‘Are you cold?’ Ethan asked, seeing me rub my goosebumped arms.
‘I’m fine.’ It wasn’t that cold and I had my hoodie if I needed it.
‘This is why I don’t have friends round.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s very homely.’
Ethan rolled his eyes so far back they looked like ping-pong balls. ‘It’s a dump. Sit down, I’ll go and get us a drink.’
I sat down on the battered sofa. Kaye had covered it with a colourful patchwork throw but that didn’t help disguise the broken springs. I shimmied along to the next seat. Even worse – as well as the springs I could feel a bump. I put my hand under the cushion and pulled out a pea. It was rock-hard and the colour of dried snot. I put it on the table.
My bum wasn’t the only part of me that felt uncomfortable. I don’t want to be rude about Ethan’s home, but it felt sort of sad. Everything was really old, and even though it was full of ornaments and photographs, somehow it seemed empty. I wandered towards the floor-length window, stopping in front of the fireplace to look at a red-framed photograph of a small boy and a man with mucky blond hair. Blond hair just like Ethan’s.
I shuffled the remaining steps to the window. Galloping unicorns, we were up high. Everything looked tiny, like the miniature village at Candy Kingdom.
‘Cool, isn’t it?’ Ethan said, joining me.
‘Yes, really cool.’
‘That’s the River Thames in the distance. We should go to the skatepark on the South Bank sometime.’
I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the glimmering river. ‘Have you always lived here, Ethan?’
‘Yes,’ he said apologetically. ‘Dad said Mum deserved better.’ He looked out wistfully across London. ‘One day I’m going to give it to her.’
The sun shone warm through the glass. I waited for Ethan to continue but he just kept staring out of the window.
‘Tell me more about your dad.’
Ethan sat down on the sofa. ‘You’d have liked him, Ava. He had a different way of looking at things – like you.’ He fiddled in the drawer in the coffee table and took out a flat black object. ‘Want to see some photos?’
‘Yes, please.’ I sat down beside Ethan.
‘OK, I’ll just order the pizza first.’
Ethan ran his fingers over the black object. It had a screen on it like his phone. He ordered dinner by pressing the images of food. Oh my curly candy, I so needed one of those in Biscotti. Just imagine how cool it would be, never having to speak to Cook again.
‘Ha, look at this.’ Ethan brought up a video clip of him and his dad. They were on holiday playing this weird game called whack-a-mole. It seemed a bit mean to me, hitting those cute little creatures on the head, but Ethan was happy and I loved hearing his stories about his dad. He had tons of them.
When the pizza finally arrived, we both legged it down the hallway. I got to the door first. I was so excited about paying for the pizza with one of the twenty-pound notes that came with my wallet. I took off the chain and opened the door.
I really wished I’d looked through the spyhole first.
The Godfather.
I tried to slam the door shut, but it was too late – he’d already jammed his army boot against the frame. He let out a bored sigh like he was being forced to watch opera or something, and pushed the door back. Even with Ethan helping, there was no way we could compete with the bulk of the Godfather. We toppled back into the hallway.
‘Right, Maggot, game’s up.’ The Godfather rested his shoulder against the door frame.
‘Queenie wants you ’ome immediately.’
Uh-oh, this wasn’t good. ‘Come on, sooner we’re out of here the better. I ’ate coming to this place but I couldn’t exactly refuse now, could I? What with being wrong about the unicorns as well.’
‘Ava?’ Ethan raised his eyebrows. He leant into my ear. ‘No wonder you don’t like talking about your parents.’
‘He’s not my dad. He’s—’
‘Nigel, but you can call me the Godfather.’ Nigel stuck his hand out for Ethan to shake. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance. Now come on, Maggot. Before your mother comes and drags you ’ome herself.’
‘But—’
‘No buts.’ The Godfather put his hands on his hips. ‘You don’t want her going off on one in front of yer little boyfriend ’ere, now do yer?’
My boyfriend, like ew. ‘Bye then,’ Ethan said, his face bright red. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The Godfather did a strange wiggle and pulled his jumpsuit out of his bum. ‘Oh, Maggot won’t be coming back,’ he said.
‘But I promised Ethan I’d help him practise his start.’
‘Tell that to your mother, Avariella Petulia Winifred Pandoro D’Allessandro of Biscotti. I’m sure she’ll be all ears, right after she’s chucked you in the dungeon.’
Ethan’s eyes widened. ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’d better go.’
Ethan’s face was full of questions. Questions I wanted to answer but couldn’t. ‘It’s OK if you can’t come tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll understand.’
I nodded. I mean, I knew Ethan would understand before he said it. He was that kind of friend. But that just made the thought of letting him down even harder.
The car park outside the flats was deserted. I kicked a discarded Coke can towards the bin and folded my arms.
‘Cheer up, Maggot,’ the Godfather said. ‘Could have been worse. Could ’ave been your dad who’d found out about yer little rendezvous.’
&nb
sp; True, but I was pretty sure Mum was going to have something to say about it too. I was so in for it.
The Godfather opened the door to a glittery lime-green car – ‘Fiat Panda’ said the badge on the back.
‘You have a car?’
‘Shush,’ he said, strapping my BMX to the tartan bike rack. ‘You need to be more discreet.’
Yeah, right. I climbed into the car, trying to avoid the pink fluffy dice hanging from the mirror. The car wobbled as the Godfather squeezed into the driver’s seat.
He looked at his wishometer-watch. ‘Going to miss me tea again cause of you. Missus won’t be ’appy, I tell yer.’
I wondered if the Godfather’s ‘missus’ was ever happy married to him. He huffed again and started the car with a special key. It spluttered like a dragon with a cold. ‘Come on,’ he said, patting the control panel. ‘That’s my girl.’
‘Wait,’ I said, ‘wait!’
Ethan was racing down the steps on his bike. He looked really serious.
‘There’s something wrong with Ethan.’
The Godfather shook his head and released the brake. ‘Godfather waits for no man. And he certainly don’t wait for no maggot.’
He pulled out on to the main road where the traffic was doing its usual slow crawl. The man in the car behind us beeped and did a funny wave. He seemed angry for someone who was waving, but the Godfather didn’t seem to notice.
‘Leave it, Maggot,’ he said. ‘I told yer, I’m not going back so you can say goodbye to yer boyfriend.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you, he is not my boyfriend.’
‘Whatever.’ The Godfather took his hands off the wheel and raised his palms.
‘But I just want to—’
‘Stop it. Yer like an ogre with a bone.’ The Godfather rummaged in the tray in the car door, muttering as he flung a pair of hiking socks, a mousetrap and a fluorescent pink sweatband on to the back seat. ‘I’d be more worried about the mess you’ve made back ’ome, if I was you. Yer mother is not happy.’
‘What mess?’
‘You’ll find out soon enough. Now shut it and let me concentrate.’
Princess BMX Page 6
