by Renee Adams
only on the clock. She had only recently learned to tell time, and one of her first lessons after that was how slowly time passed when you watched it closely.
Finally though, the bell rang, and Chelsea bolted for the door that led to the playground. She made a beeline for the hole in the fence, not caring if Miss Andersen got mad and made her sit in the corner again. She wanted to see the unicorn.
She pushed through the forsythia bushes, got to the fence, and froze.
The hole was gone! Someone had filled it in! There would no way to reach her unicorn now!
As the realization washed over her, Chelsea sat down in the dirt under the forsythia bush began to cry.
“You’re such a baby,” said someone, and a moment later, Max stuck his head into the forsythia bushes. “Baby! Baby!” he said in a sing-song voice and making faces at her. “Crying little baby!”
That didn’t help at all. Chelsea began to cry harder. “Shut up!” she said through the tightness in her throat that made her voice crack. “Go away!”
“Baby! Baby!”
He lifted a dump truck that was filled with sand, and Chelsea threw up her little arms.
“Max Thurman! What are you doing?!”
Max whirled around, still holding the dump truck.
“She started it!”
“Are you dumping sand in peoples’ hair again?” Miss Andersen demanded as she caught sight of the dump truck.
“No,” Max said in a voice that clearly indicated he was.
“Come on, young man,” she said sternly, and Max was hauled out of the bushes. “I am going to tell your mother about this, and if I see you doing this again, you get no snack time either. Leave the truck.”
There was a clatter as Max put down the truck.
Then Miss Andersen’s voice came again, more gently,“Chelsea, why don’t you come on out of there and play on the swings? Miss Jessica will push you.”
Miss Jessica was the young assistant teacher who sometimes came to help Miss Andersen. She was very nice, but still in school herself.
Chelsea looked back through the fence, but she didn’t see the unicorn.
“Okay,” she said dismally, pushing her way out of the bushes.
Max was sullenly glaring daggers at her, as if she was responsible for his punishment.
“That’s a good girl,” said Miss Andersen with a smile.
Miss Jessica, a young blond woman with a long, horse-like nose, took Chelsea’s hand. “Let’s go play on the swings! How’s that sound?” she asked enthusiastically as Miss Andersen dragged a crying Max inside.
Chelsea looked forlornly back at the forsythia bushes, then reluctantly nodded, and Miss Jessica couldn’t help but think that it was the first time in history that a child didn’t look happy about the prospect of being pushed on a swing.
Chelsea had sulked until Miss Jessica had pushed her as high as she could go on the swings. Then, there was no way she could have been unhappy flying through the air higher than even Miss Jessica’s head, and the day had slowly gotten better. Max was no longer the unspoken ruler of the class and was much more subdued after being caught by Miss Andersen. They had even made him apologize to her.
By the end of the day, Chelsea was feeling much better and not looking so often out the window for the unicorn.
Mommy was late that day picking her up. She had phoned the school and said she was on her way, but a client had taken up much of her time, asking question after question about the bottles Mommy sold, and what did they smell like, and what did they look like, and if there were any allergy problems with the stuff inside them.
Max’s mom was also running late, so the two of them were sitting on the school steps with Miss Andersen between them. The other children had all gone home for the day, and it was just them left.
They were just finishing up a round of “I Spy” when Chelsea’s mother’s silver sedan pulled around the circular driveway and stopped in front of the kindergarten.
Chelsea jumped to her feet happily. She had been getting bored with the game after the seventh round, and seeing her mother was a welcome reprieve from an eighth.
Mommy got out of the car and hurried over, apologizing again and again for inconveniencing Miss Andersen.
“It’s not a problem,” the teacher assured Mommy. “Chelsea’s a good girl, and as you can see, she’s not the only one.”
While the adults spoke, Max was making faces at Chelsea. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Thank you, and again, I’m so sorry,” Chelsea’s mother said, taking hold of Chelsea’s hand.
“No problem,” Miss Andersen said cheerfully with a wave. “See you tomorrow, Chelsea.”
“Bye, Miss Andersen,” said Chelsea as Mommy led her back to the car. She climbed into the passenger seat, and Mommy slid into the driver’s seat.
“Buckle yourself in,” said Mommy, and Chelsea sighed. Mommy never moved the car an inch until Chelsea did so.
As she struggled with the belt, Mommy asked, “Did you have a good day, hon?”
“I guess,” Chelsea replied with an awkward five year old shrug. “Max wanted to put sand in my hair. I didn’t see the unicorn either.”
Chelsea’s mother tensed, waiting for the question about where baby unicorns came from, but it didn’t come this time, and she relaxed.
“Did you tell the teacher about Max?” she asked.
“Miss Andersen saw and stopped him,” she replied, but she couldn’t help looking back at the woods behind the school. They were still empty.
“Good,” Mommy said, starting the car and pulling toward the road. “I knew there was a reason I liked that woman.”
Mommy was just making the turn out of the school driveway when Chelsea saw it.
“Mommy! Mommy! Look! My unicorn!” she cried, pointing across the road.
Mommy looked.
Then the world turned upside down.
There was a loud CRASH! and Chelsea screamed as pain shot through her. She felt gravity shift and heard glass break, and she was moving sideways. In front of her, the windshield crashed and burst. She screamed again.
Then it was quiet for a moment, but only a moment.
“Chelsea? Chelsea!” Mommy called.
Chelsea couldn’t move very much. She struggled to open her eyes and look around.
The first thing she saw was another car, a large white SUV. The front of the SUV had pushed Chelsea into the handbrake and shifter and much of it looked like it was in Chelsea’s lap.
There was a creak, and a man stumbled out of the driver’s seat, swaying. His eyes were bloodshot, and Chelsea could see a day or two worth of dark stubble on his chin. He looked at Chelsea and her mother dumbly, squinting. As it slowly dawned on him what he had done, he ran a tanned hand through gray hair, muttered, “Shit,” and took off at a stumbling run down the road, tripping and falling over himself.
Miss Andersen was on her phone, shouting into it and holding tightly onto a struggling Max, who wanted to go see if Chelsea was okay.
“Mommy,” Chelsea groaned.
“Chelsea! Hang in there, okay baby?” her mother said. Her voice was tight and cracking, and Chelsea felt her hand on her head, stroking her hair.
She could see her mother a little out of the corner of her eye.
“Mommy, you have blood...”
A trickle of blood was running down her mother’s head from where it had struck the side of the car.
“I know, honey. I’ll be fine,” Mommy said. Her eyes were very bright. “Don’t worry about me. Just keep looking at my face, okay hon?”
Chelsea was feeling very sleepy, and something warm was running down her back and legs. It was hard to look at Mommy. She let her eyes shift away and saw the unicorn standing not far away, pacing back and forth nervously just beyond the wreck of twisted metal.
“Mommy, I see my unicorn...”
Her eyelids were so heavy.
“Sweetie? Stay awake. Look at me! Chelsea? Chelsea!”
/> Chelsea closed her eyes.
When Chelsea opened her eyes again, she was no longer inside the car with Mommy. She didn’t hurt anymore either.
Bewildered, she looked around.
The SUV was still jammed into the side of her mother’s car. Her mother was still inside it, but she was crying loudly and leaning over into the seat next to her.
Police were just arriving with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Not far behind them was a white and orange ambulance.
The unicorn was standing next to Chelsea, but it wasn’t watching what was happening. It was watching her.
“Why is Mommy crying?” she asked. “Is she hurt?”
The unicorn nuzzled her cheek sadly. “She will live,” it replied, and Chelsea was surprised. It had never talked before! “But she is sad.”
“Why?” Chelsea asked.
“Because you died, little one. See?”
Chelsea looked back at the car, her eyes wide as the police very carefully removed a small body from the passenger’s seat. Paramedics were trying to get Mommy out of the driver’s seat and into an ambulance, but she was refusing to leave the body. When they moved the body to the ambulance though, Mommy finally got out, and they made her strap something around her neck before she climbed into the back of the ambulance with it.
“But I’m right here! Mommy! Mommy! I’m here!”
Mommy didn’t answer. She got into the back of the ambulance, crying hard.
“She can’t hear you,” the unicorn said gently. “Only the innocent can.”
“I wanna go with Mommy!” Chelsea told it and ran forward, but an instant later, she tripped over her own legs and fell.
“She can’t see you either,” the unicorn replied, stepping forward and giving Chelsea’s head a comforting
