by Jen Malone
Oh, well.
I shake the pen and test it on a corner of the chart. Aside from a tiny bit of drool still on the tip, it writes just fine.
“True. You don’t have to sell me,” Harper answers, and at first I think she’s talking about the pen still working, but when I glance up to see her staring off into space, I realize she’s talking about the Danish.
“Do you mean I don’t have to sell you on Cooper as the gala’s opening exhibit?” I ask. Could it really be as easy as this?
Harper shakes her head. “As much as I loved, loved, loved that Lemon-Lime Gingerroot…uh, I forgot the end part again.”
“Boysenberry Popsicle Explosion Muffins,” I finish smoothly.
“Yes. That,” she says. “Anyway, as much as I enjoyed them, I just wonder if they were exactly right for this.”
I jump up and grab the tray. Just as Harper opens her mouth to speak again, I slip a bite-sized piece of Root Beer Cheesecake Cupcake inside it. Her eyes get all wide in surprise, then they close in on what I’m guessing is bliss as she chews the gooey treat.
“Exactly,” I say, watching her expression carefully. “You’re seriously going to tell me that isn’t exactly right?”
Harper swallows slowly. “Okay, no. Cooper’s pastries are beyond delicious. It’s more that…”
She trails off, trying to figure how to say what she means.
“I think…,” she starts again. But she closes her mouth in frustration and drops her head into her hands.
Okay, I can wait this out, give her space. I doodle flowers along the edges of the chart. She needs to figure out her head here, and I’m perfectly fine giving her all the time she needs to get there. I keep totally quiet.
Yup, I can wait.
And wait.
And wait.
After a couple minutes of this, it becomes pretty obvious that Harper’s not able to hit on the thing that is bothering her about Cooper’s entry. No worries. We’ll just go back to the pros-and-cons chart. I have a plan, and I’m sticking to it.
“Okay, I’m putting ‘radically delicious’ in the pros column,” I tell her. “Quick, give me something for the cons side without thinking too hard on it.”
“A con. Got it,” says Harper. “They’re too…too dependent on the weather.”
My forehead crinkles. “Say what? They’re cupcakes and brownies and Danishes. How are those dependent on the weather? Personally speaking, I could eat them any time of year! And we’ll be inside a pod, so exactly what weather are we talking about here?”
“Well, for instance, if too many Trolls are crammed inside for the opening, maybe it’ll get really hot, and the icing on the brownies could melt….” Harper tries, but she doesn’t sound all that convincing.
I shrug. “If you insist.”
I duck my head and write not heat-resistant in the cons column. In the pros column, I add Everyone will leave happy, because they’ll have a full stomach, then turn the sheet so Harper can see.
“Right, but what if they get too full and leave with stomachaches?”
I add that to the cons list then give her a big smile. “See, we’re getting somewhere!”
Harper doesn’t look convinced. “We are? We have an even number in both columns, and I can’t think of anything else to add.”
I check to make sure I have the pen facing the right way this time before sticking the end in my mouth and chewing. “Okay, well, we’re only on the first entry. Let’s move on and come back to Cooper later.”
Harper’s shoulders are a bit slumpy, but she nods.
“Okay, great! So next we had DJ Suki. How can we forget her dance party?”
“How could anyone forget that dance party? It went on for half the morning, and most of Troll Village joined in!”
I pause to scribble brings the party in the pros column. “Not AT ALL a bad quality in an opening exhibit. Her music will make sure everyone has a great time.”
Harper nods slowly, but it seems to me like her thoughts are suddenly a million miles away. She snaps her fingers. “Yes, that’s it!”
She looks at me expectantly, but all I can do is stare back. “You’re going to have to give me a little something more to go on there, Harp.”
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just…I figured out what was bothering me about Cooper’s entry, and it’s the same thing that’s bothering me about DJ Suki’s!”
I sit up straight and focus my eyes on hers, indicating that I’m all ears.
“Okay. I love Cooper’s desserts, and so does everyone else, because they’ve had them before. And because they can get them from Cooper any time they want. Same with DJ Suki’s music. It’s incredible, but it’s not something the other Trolls have never experienced before. Know what I mean?”
Hmm. I’m sure there’s a different way of looking at this; I just have to figure out what that is.
Harper continues, “Technically speaking, no one has seen every one of Biggie’s portraits, and definitely not all in one place, the way he displayed them, but it’s a pretty rare day in Troll Village when Biggie isn’t offering up a new Mr. Dinkles picture to anyone who will look. And Smidge!”
“What about her?” I ask.
“Well, she’s crazy-proud of her hair stunts—”
I interrupt, “Yep, and who could blame her?”
“True,” Harper agrees, “but that means she is always exhibiting them, and everyone’s already seen them before.”
I refuse to let Harper go down this rabbit hole. “Well, I didn’t get to witness Satin and Chenille’s collection, but I’m guessing the outfits they showed you were newer than new. And judging by what they’ve done in the past, I’m positive they were incredible.”
Harper nods and her eyes lose focus as she stares into space above my head. “You have a point there.”
I smirk. “I knew we just had to keep going to find the solution. And Guy Diamond’s? Definitely new.”
Okay, sure, so Guy Diamond does tend to puff glitter wherever he goes, BUT no one has experienced a glitter shower like the one he showed us today.
With Harper watching carefully, I write new in the pros column next to Satin and Chenille.
Next to Guy Diamond’s name in the pros column I write definitely new and doodle an umbrella-shaped toadstool and some raindrops next to it. If I could figure out how to draw glitter in two-dimensional hot-pink ink, I would opt for that, but the rain dashes will have to stand in for it in the meantime.
Harper is still looking a bit distressed, even with this new positive development.
I turn the sheet to her. “Look! New and different offerings. It’s all good.”
Harper studies the chart, and the corners of her lips lift slightly. “You’re right. Satin and Chenille and Guy Diamond had outside-the-box entries.
“And Biggie had a unique way of exhibiting his portraits of Mr. Dinkles—no one has ever seen them all in one place like that. Plus, I’ll bet Cooper could come up with a totally un-debuted flavor no one has tasted before if you ask him. And maybe Smidge could learn a new hair stunt between now and then. So really, you still have all the options!” I say. “All you have to do is pick one and we’re home free!”
Harper
I stare at Poppy’s pros-and-cons chart in one hand and at the rating cards in my other.
What to pick, what to pick?
“You know who would be really good at getting us focused?” Poppy asks, twirling her hair around her finger with a faraway expression on her face.
“Who?”
“Creek.”
Poppy sighs dreamily, and I join in absentmindedly. I murmur, “Oooh. Yeah. Creek.”
“You rang?”
I whip my head around to the pod’s entrance. Sure enough, a lavender-colored Troll with blue hair just poked his face around its corner.
My hand flies to my mouth. “Creek! How did you—?”
Creek shrugs casually. “I sensed a confused aura as I drifted by.”
I glance at
Poppy, but she doesn’t seem to care how or why Creek’s here…only that he is.
She squeals and jumps up, racing over to grab his hand. She pulls the rest of him into the pod and over to our spot. “Oh, Creek, you’re so perfect. I mean, uh…this. This is so perfect.”
Poppy was telling the truth with what she said first. Creek is pretty perfect. And he always knows the perfect thing to say in any situation.
“Tell me everything,” he says.
Poppy and I begin talking at once.
I say, “Well, we’re trying to pick an exhibit for—”
At the very same time, Poppy says, “Harper and I have seen every—”
Creek holds up a hand, quietly and calmly, and both of us clamp our lips shut. Creek has this ability to make you feel like you’re under a tranquil spell, even when you know you’re not. He’s positively captivating.
“Harper, you begin.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m trying to find a showstopper for my gallery opening. We’ve seen loads of amazing entries today, but none of them feels completely right. Except I don’t know what would feel right. Or how to pick the perfect one.”
When I finish, Creek turns to Poppy. “Anything to add?”
“Sure. So, we’ve got our pros-and-cons chart….”
She thrusts it under Creek’s chin, and he grabs it to examines it carefully. “Nice handwriting,” he says.
Poppy wobbles on her feet and practically faints at the compliment while I fight back a giggle.
“Thanks!” she says. “Anyway, we’ve been debating the pros and cons of each entry. For example, Guy Diamond’s is unique, but—”
“But,” I interrupt quickly, “we really hadn’t talked about it specifically, and sure, Guy Diamond found a new and different—and highly creative—way to use glitter, but the magic of it is really in the specialness of the setting, and if we tried to move the exhibit here so everyone in the pod could experience it, it wouldn’t be the same. Except, if we brought people to the enchanting spot he found to demonstrate it for us, then they wouldn’t be here for the opening. And what’s the point of having a gallery if the exhibit can’t be housed in it? So that makes me think it’s not right. It seems like none of the entries have exactly what I envisioned for the opening, and—”
I start talking faster and faster as I go on, which isn’t really like me, but I’m getting worked up. Poppy’s mouth is hanging open, and I feel like I’m making a fool out of myself. I clamp my mouth shut when Creek very calmly holds up a hand again.
“I understand,” he says.
I exhale in relief. “You do?”
He nods and I smile. I instantly feel about a zillion times better. My heartbeat, which had been thump-thumping away the more nervous I got as I blabbed on and on, slows to normal again.
Creek studies me carefully, tilting his head left, then right, like I have all the answers written on the tip of my nose or something. Then he says, “Let’s back up for a moment. You said the entries weren’t what you envisioned. What had you envisioned?”
Now I sigh. For her part, Poppy is staying really quiet, taking it all in. Or possibly daydreaming about Creek’s perfect eyes.
But for now, I turn my focus to Creek’s question. “That’s the problem. I don’t have a specific vision—it all looks kind of…fuzzy…whenever I try to imagine the opening. But if I had to say…well, I’ve had this daydream where there’s something in the center of the room, perfectly lit and mounted on an easel, with an enormous curtain covering it.”
While I talk, I move into the middle of the pod and gesture with my hands as I create an imaginary scene with my words.
“And the sheet would hide the thing underneath it until that one magical moment when I’d whip it off to a chorus of oohs and aahs from everyone in attendance. And then they would all start chattering at once about the piece’s impact.” I pause and lower my eyes, a little embarrassed. “Um, or something like that.”
Poppy stands and applauds. “I think that sounds incredible, Harper.”
Creek smiles his serene smile again. “It does sound lovely. But you mentioned an easel, which makes me think there is a painting underneath. Would this be one of your paintings?”
I don’t even take a breath before answering. “No! I don’t want to open the gallery so I can show off my work. I want people to see the other incredible artistic talents in Troll Village.”
“Hmm.” Creek nods thoughtfully.
“Maybe it wasn’t a painting on the easel in my daydream. It may have been a sculpture.”
I spot Poppy’s mouth opening and beat her to the punch. “And not Smidge’s sculpted muscles, either,” I say.
Poppy clamps her lips shut, and her shrug clearly says “Well, I tried.”
“Hmm,” says Creek again.
We look at him expectantly, but all he says is “Perhaps we should meditate on this for a moment.”
Poppy bounces. “Oooh, yes. Sounds fun!”
We watch closely as Creek folds effortlessly into a cross-legged position. He pulls his heels into his lap and puts his hands palms-up on the tops of his knees. “Now just sit and listen. Let the universe send answers.”
Poppy and I struggle to match his pose. I get one foot into position, but I can’t make the other one fit on top. Poppy manages both, but then nearly tips onto her side, and I hide my giggle in my shoulder. We both check quickly to see if Creek is noticing how much we’re struggling to start, but his are eyes closed, and it seems that he’s already miles away.
We try to follow his example. For a moment, everything in the pod is totally silent, but I can’t resist peeking through one eye. I catch Poppy doing the exact same thing. It’s not that I’m not taking this seriously, but something about trying to force myself to be still and my mind to be quiet makes me extra punchy. Oh my hair, how long is this meditation going to last, because I don’t know if I can keep this pose much longer. The worst part is it’s only been twelve seconds or something.
It feels like an eternity passes before Creek opens his eyes.
“That was enlightening,” he says, looking to us for confirmation that we’d experienced something deep and moving, too. I really wanted to. Does that count?
I wait expectantly for Creek to share his big revelation with us so we’ll have the answers we need.
Creek is always disciplined and mellow, which means he’s also unhurried. Finally, he stands and offers each of us a hand. I try not to shiver when he takes mine, but Poppy doesn’t have as much success. He smiles sweetly at her.
Once we’re all on our feet, he brushes his palms together.
I can’t take the suspense one second longer. “What were your insights? Just so we can, er, compare them to ours, I mean.”
“Of course,” Creek agrees.
Phew.
“Well,” he says. “The universe spoke to me and said, ‘The journey is more important than the destination.’ ”
I glance at Poppy. Hopefully this makes some sense to her and she’s inclined to share the explanation, because I’m baffled. I was hoping for something a little more…specific. Such as “Choose entrant number two and live happily ever after.”
Is that too much to ask of the universe?
I don’t want Creek to know that I’m more perplexed than ever, though, so I just smile wide and thank him for his help.
“Don’t mention it. Glad I could be of assistance,” he replies before breezing out of the pod as smoothly as he arrived.
As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Poppy, seeking guidance.
She’s beaming. “I understood perfectly.”
“You did?”
She nods. “Yep. It’s all crystal clear now. And because of my revelation, I’m going to have to leave you now, Harp.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m leaving. In my heart of hearts, I believe that what Creek—and/or the universe—was trying to say is that I’d be doing you the greatest friend favor ever if I left you alon
e to make this decision.”
“No! I don’t have a clue which one to pick! You promised to help me!”
She’s not serious right now. Is she? How could she expect me to make this decision on my own when I’m as confused as I’ve ever been?
“I know I promised to help you,” she says. “And this is me helping you. ‘The journey is more important than the destination.’ Your problem isn’t that you can’t pick an exhibit, it’s that you don’t believe you can pick an exhibit.”
I shake my head. “I still don’t get it.”
“I don’t think you need help picking the exhibit. I think you need help realizing you don’t need help.”
I raise both eyebrows and give her my best “Are you crazy?” look. “Uh…no. Agree to disagree. Pretty sure what I most need help with is the exhibit selection.”
“Not true,” Poppy says, taking both of my hands. “You can do this. If I leave now, you have no choice but to decide for yourself, and when you see how perfectly the decision you make turns out, you’ll believe that you can rock running a gallery every bit as well as you rock your art.”
I crinkle my forehead. “And what if I pick one and it doesn’t turn out perfectly?”
“But it WILL. I know for a fact. All you have to do is just let go and trust yourself as much as I trust you.”
She hugs me, gives my hair a gentle tug, and before I can even get out another word of protest, she slips out of the pod.
Harper
I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE JUST DID THAT!
I feel like shouting it out the gallery pod opening.
And while I have no problem accepting that she truly believes she’s doing something she thinks will help me (meaning I’m not mad at her or anything), I definitely have a problem believing it will help me.
How am I supposed to trust my gut? The only time my gut speaks to me is when I’m painting, and it’s not like there’s a way to paint my way out of this dilemma.
Although.
Maybe I just need to refocus my attention for a little bit. Taking a break from all this indecision to focus on something I never have doubts about will clear my head. And then I can come back refreshed and with a better energy.
