Pip Bartlett's Guide to Unicorn Training

by Jackson Pearce

  “Never!” His voice was panicked. “Fight back, Duchess! But try not to damage your coat! They’ll never be able to glossy it up by tomorrow if you do! And who are you without your beauty? WHO ARE ANY OF US?”

  I was right next to Fortnight’s stall and still couldn’t see any details. I could hear the Unicorn in the next stall over—Duchess—scuffling around in her stall, though.

  “Fortnight!” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, hurrah! It’s you, grimy child! Save Duchess!” he said.

  “From what?”

  “A monster!”

  I didn’t believe there was a monster. But I did believe that Duchess was terrified of something. I did the only thing I could think of:

  I went to the end of the hall and hit the light switch.

  Light filled the aisles and I froze in place, my fingers still on the switch.

  It was no monster. It was a person. A tall man wearing a ski mask and shiny shoes, a pair of scissors in one hand and a freshly chopped tail in the other. He was all hunched over, looking about as surprised and scared as I felt.

  “No!” I shouted. “What are you doing! Stop!”

  All the Unicorns began to shout too. “Stop! Stop! Don’t worry, Duchess! She’s here to save our beauty!”

  The scissors clattered on the floor, but the man stopped to scrape them up. I saw just his shoulder as he scrambled out of the stall and away—with a beautiful length of Unicorn tail trailing from his hands.

  I was too late. Duchess’s tail was gone.

  One tail chop was a scandal, but two tail chops? That was scary. The police were called. The Unicorn owners were called. I had to give a full report of what I had seen. As Callie had said earlier: Scandal! Scandal! Scandal! It didn’t take long for Unicorn owners to begin to appear at the barn, even though it was still barely morning. The Barreras were some of the first to arrive—Mr. Barrera was still in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, with no sign of the fancy clothing he’d been wearing during the day. No fancy shoes. Surely that meant he wasn’t the tail thief. Plus, why would he cut one of his own Unicorn’s tails? Everyone else seemed relieved too, as they arrived, like they had also possibly suspected the Barreras.

  Marisol was beside herself over the crime. She was less concerned with Duchess’s show chances than with Duchess’s mood, which was in the pits. She was just shouting, “I’m not beautiful!” over and over again.

  “Who would do this?” Marisol wailed.

  As the sun finally came up, there was one Unicorn owner who was still not at the barn: Mr. Henshaw.

  I wanted to believe that the man in the ski mask wasn’t him, but the truth was, I couldn’t really say for sure.

  Thankfully, it seemed like the police were now taking over the investigation for me. Two new officers had arrived at the barn and had asked everyone involved with the Unicorns to form a line for some data gathering.

  Even though I’d already been interviewed, I had to stand in line too, right behind Aunt Emma, at the very end. When we got up to the front, I found out that one of the officers was holding an orange bucket full of water labeled POLICE. A distinctly fishy odor was coming from the water. Not entirely pleasant. Actually, entirely unpleasant.

  I saw now that there was something besides water in the bucket: a bunch of Wimpelings. I knew about Wimpelings from both the Guide to Magical Creatures and the beaches in Savannah.

  One of the officers removed a Wimpeling from the bucket, stuck it onto the wall (it made a sqwlick! sound), and then pulled it off (sqwlick!). She handed it to the other officer, who recorded something on a digital tablet. Then they did it again. I badly wanted to ask them what they were doing with the Wimpeling, but I didn’t know if it would somehow interfere with the investigation or just be distracting while they were doing serious police work.

  Luckily for me, my aunt is a lot like me, because as she held her hand out to them, she said, “I’ve never seen Wimpelings used for this before! Is it because of their sense of smell? Pardon my questions; I’m a vet for magical creatures and I just don’t see a lot of sea creatures at the practice.”

  “Not a problem,” replied the first officer. She stuck the Wimpeling to Aunt Emma’s hand (sqwlick!), pulled it off (sqwlick!), and handed it to the other officer. “As you already know, Wimpelings are excellent at picking up smells, which often stick around even when there’s no other evidence left. So we stick them over the door handle of the stall where the affected Unicorn was—see, like this—” She fetched one out and stuck it on the stall door. Water oozed off the Wimpeling … or out of the Wimpeling. “You see where the edge of the Wimpeling’s trumpet attaches to the surface? See how it’s starting to wrinkle? It is making a very specific shape in response to this specific odor. It’s as specific as a fingerprint.”

  She pulled the Wimpeling off the door (sqwlick!) and handed it to the other officer, who stuck it to his tablet to record the odor. “When we find a suspect, we’ll match his or her scent to our records.”

  “Are there any suspects?” I asked, wide-eyed, as she plopped the Wimpeling into the bucket.

  “This is my niece,” Aunt Emma said proudly, putting her arm over my shoulders. “You don’t have to answer if it’s against procedure or whatever.”

  “It’s all right to ask. No, not yet. But it’s important to collect the data now, just in case,” she said. “Wimpelings are incredibly accurate, and unlike computers and databases, they can’t crash or be hacked.”

  “Oh!” I said.

  “Probably not as fluffy as the magical creatures you’re used to, huh?” she asked, smiling at me.

  “No, but I like all magical creatures. Even the … er … gooey ones.”

  The police officers seemed pleased by this answer. They swirled around the Wimpelings in the bucket to make sure they were all submerged, and then put the top on it tightly.

  “Try not to worry,” the first police officer told us. “We’ll get this figured out.”

  As they headed down the aisle, I heard the second police officer say, “I’m going to smell like fish all day.”

  Everyone in the Unicorn hall watched them go; the moment they were out of sight, everyone got right back to work—Unicorns had to be groomed and saddled for round two of the Trident.

  The show must go on, after all.

  We were all a little bleary-eyed the rest of the day. Aunt Emma staggered off with coffee; Callie sat motionless with a soda in her hand. I kept my energy up by staying focused on the goal: Getting Regent Maximus through round two. Mr. Henshaw, Tomas, Regent Maximus, and I were in the baby Unicorn pen. Mr. Henshaw hadn’t explained where he was during the investigation earlier, even though I heard him telling Aunt Emma that he was sorry that he hadn’t been there for Regent Maximus during all of the commotion. I couldn’t decide if I thought that was a nice thing for him to say or if I was too worried that he was a suspect to think it was nice.

  It was hard to remember to be entirely suspicious, though, when Mr. Henshaw was trying so hard to prepare for round two. He was currently seated on Regent Maximus, and the two of them had just finished doing a practice run through our homemade obstacles (which meant putting a helmet on Mr. Henshaw and convincing Regent Maximus he didn’t need one too).

  “Wow, Pip! He’s not bad!” Mr. Henshaw said.

  “Wow, Pip! He’s not bad!” Regent Maximus said at almost the same time.

  I had to admit, they were both right. Mr. Henshaw clearly wasn’t as skilled a rider as Marisol, and Regent Maximus clearly wasn’t as confident a creature as the other Unicorns, but they were both far, far better than I had expected. The two of them even looked excited!

  “It was really mostly Marisol!” I said. “And the baby Unicorns have helped a lot too,” I added, for the babies’ benefit. They were Unicorns, after all, and loved to hear nice things about themselves.

  “That man looks heavy. Regent Maximus must be so strong,” one of the baby Unicorns whispered. It turned to me, eyes big and h
opeful. “Do you think we can come watch round two?”

  I wasn’t sure people would think very highly of me trying to guide six baby Unicorns through this crowd. In fact, it sounded like an excellent way to start a second Unicorn Incident. So I said, “I bet if you lean over the fence in the back, you can see the center ring.” The babies scrambled to the back wall to confirm that, yes, they could see if they stood on the Rockshine feed buckets we’d used to make Regent Maximus’s practice jumps.

  “Good luck!” they screamed at Regent Maximus.

  “I WILL GO NOBLY!” Regent Maximus shouted back. “REMEMBER ME LIKE THIS, NOT FALLEN!”

  “Shh,” said Mr. Henshaw. “Settle. Pip, why is he whinnying?”

  “He’s just saying bye to the babies,” I replied. It was close enough to the truth.

  We were the first to the center ring, though it didn’t take long for the other Unicorns to trickle in. The events of the night before had clearly left both the Unicorns and the owners unsettled.

  Marisol came charging up to me at the very last minute, just as I was about to find my way to a seat. I’d never seen Marisol look so … well, so much like me. Her hair was loose from its bun, and there was lavender dust all over her arms.

  “How is Regent Maximus?” she asked, breathless. She threw her arms around me in a hug, which startled and alarmed me. It wasn’t till she’d flailed backward that I thought to be pleased that she was happy to see me.

  I crossed my arms. “He didn’t throw Mr. Henshaw at all this morning, and they went over all the obstacles. They’re both nervous, but I think they’re going to have a good time. How’s your family?”

  “Good, considering what happened,” Marisol said, and gestured to them. Her parents looked as disheveled as her—the only member of the family who had managed to stay polished and sparkling was one of Marisol’s older sisters, who was seated on Fortnight, waiting to enter the ring for round two.

  Like most Unicorns, Fortnight was usually proud and perfect, but today he fidgeted. He kept swishing his tail and tucking it beneath his legs. It was too long for that, though, so he tripped over it again and again, tossing his head as he did.

  “Is someone standing watch?” he called out across the building—it sounded like a resonant whinny to all the humans except me. “Is anyone making sure we’re safe?”

  Overhead, the loudspeaker crackled: “We’re now beginning round two of the Triple Trident!”

  We quickly found a spot near the rail. A pink Unicorn went first, then a pretty lavender one. These Unicorns were just as nervous about tail loss as Fortnight. The lavender Unicorn shied here and there before finally refusing to go over an especially tall jump at the end of the course.

  “No! No! I won’t! My tail could get caught in it!” she cried as her rider circled back and tried the jump a second time. The crowd clapped politely for her and her rider anyhow, but the judges—including Prince Temujin—wrote something on their notepads. From their faces, I guessed it wasn’t a good something.

  Fortnight was up next, and I cheered loudly alongside Marisol. Her sister and Fortnight rode beautifully—and Fortnight’s mood seemed to have recovered, given that he shouted, “I AM THE KING OF EVERYTHING!” as he soared over the final jump.

  Then it was Regent Maximus’s turn. I glanced toward the nursery and saw the baby Unicorns’ heads pressed over their fence, bickering with one another over who had the best view. They cheered—and so did the crowd—as Regent Maximus took a few tentative steps through the gate. Thankfully, the course wasn’t too tricky; they’d chosen obstacles we’d prepared really well for. Still, Regent Maximus pawed at the ground worriedly.

  “Oh, Mr. Henshaw, give him a minute to calm down or he’ll bolt,” Marisol whispered, pounding her hands on the edge of the rail. We craned our necks to get a better look. Come on, you two! You can do this! I thought over and over.

  Mr. Henshaw and Regent Maximus took a deep breath at the exact same time, and then Mr. Henshaw urged Regent Maximus into a frolic. It was a nervous sort of frolic, and he was quivering from nose to tail, but still.

  They climbed over the first jump, then the second. When it came time for Regent Maximus to root out a golden ring, he pranced around the pile, chanting, “Circles! Dizzy! Vertigo! Circles!”

  “Does he have the ring yet?” one of the baby Unicorns with a lousy view shouted loud enough that I could hear.

  “No! He’s looking! He’s thinking!” one with a better angle answered.

  Regent Maximus nervously knelt down to root for the golden ring. Mr. Henshaw saw it before he did; he guided Regent Maximus toward it. A moment later the ring was spinning and clattering down Regent Maximus’s spiral horn. Regent Maximus flinched with shock, and for a second, I thought it was all over.

  “Look at me, Regent Maximus!” I shouted.

  Regent Maximus tossed up his head in his hurry to look, nearly throwing Mr. Henshaw off, but he managed a brief eye contact.

  It steadied him (and gave Mr. Henshaw a chance to settle himself back down more securely).

  Regent Maximus crept on. He cleared the tallest jump and excelled at the pause table, though I suspected he was penalized for squeezing his eyes shut while he stood there. All that was left was a series of hoops he had to climb through. These had given Regent Maximus a lot of trouble in the practice ring. Mr. Henshaw edged Regent Maximus toward them.

  “Circle of death!” Regent Maximus squealed as he jumped—no, not jumped, but sort of step-hopped?—through the first hoop.

  “Oh, why! Why is there another?” he cried as he stepped through the second. Only one more, but this one had a tiny pool of water on the other side. We’d prepared for water obstacles, but not with the hoop obstacle. Regent Maximus approached the final hoop.

  “No! No! There is a lake! An ocean! WATER CARRIES DEADLY PATHOGENS.” He began to back up. Marisol grabbed my hand in suspense—if Regent Maximus bumped into the hoop behind him, he’d spook, and then who knew what would happen!

  “We’re okay, we’re okay,” I heard Mr. Henshaw muttering, though he sounded a little nervous. He sat up straighter, like he was going to urge Regent Maximus back toward the hoop—

  Regent Maximus cried, “There are no signs indicating this water’s depth! I will drown! I DON’T THINK I CAN SWIM WITHOUT A FLOATIE—”

  Mr. Henshaw tugged the reins to the right and led Regent Maximus not toward the jump, but off to the side. They were skipping it entirely! Why was Mr. Henshaw giving up?

  “Wait! What does that mean?” I asked Marisol. Had Regent Maximus just lost?

  “It’s a refusal—he won’t get credit for it, but it’s not terrible. And they’ll get more points than they would have if Mr. Henshaw had gotten thrown,” Marisol said, nodding enthusiastically. “It was a good decision!”

  Regent Maximus seemed to think so too as he scurried away from the hoop. “We live! We survive!”

  The baby Unicorns cheered as the buzzer sounded, indicating Mr. Henshaw and Regent Maximus had completed their round. The room lit up with applause! They’d done it! Marisol and I jumped up and down, then gave everyone we could reach high fives.

  Scores were read soon after. Fortnight came in first. Between what had happened to Duchess and Forever Sunshine and the many Unicorns who didn’t perform well because they were too busy worrying about their tails, Regent Maximus was now in the top six.

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

  * * *

  My smile vanished, though, when I went to congratulate Mr. Henshaw and Regent Maximus. I had just reached the nursery when I heard voices. I froze. It was Mr. Henshaw and … I recognized that accent … Prince Temujin!

  I leaned in close to the nursery gate and strained to hear the conversation over the baby Unicorns. They had created a celebration song for Regent Maximus and were singing it loudly to him as they ran about.

  “Oh, who’s the strongest fastest bestest tallest rainbowest that we know? Regent Maximus! He’s the Maximus! He’s t
he loudest boldest smartest—”

  “What are you doing?” Callie said, startling me so badly I bonked my nose into the gate. She was wearing fresh red lipstick and had recurled her hair. “Are you spying?”

  “No! I was just … uh. Spying,” I admitted.

  “On Mr. Henshaw? Has he confessed? Was I right? He’s the one behind the tail cutting?” Callie’s eyes gleamed.

  “What? No!”

  Callie cut me off with a glorious snort. “Well, in that case, move aside, hay breath. I’m going to talk to the prince.” She brushed past me and into the nursery.

  “Henshaw,” she said flatly, then, “Your Majesty! Or is it Highness? Calliope B. Bartlett, sir.”

  “Er, hello, Miss Bartlett,” Prince Temujin replied. “Now, Mr. Henshaw, as I was saying—”

  Callie persisted. “You know, Prince Temujin, Your Highness Majesty, I’m a huge fan of your mother’s. Some people say we look alike.”

  There was silence, other than the baby Unicorn song, for a few moments.

  “Right. Anyhow, Mr. Henshaw,” Prince Temujin went on, “I’d really love to add Regent Maximus to my stable—the rainbow mane and tail combination is so very rare. I’m sure you’re well aware that Galatolia is, unfortunately, not a wealthy country. I can’t offer you a lot of money, but I can promise him an excellent home.”

  I couldn’t believe it. After all this, Mr. Henshaw was talking to the prince about selling Regent Maximus?

  But Mr. Henshaw didn’t sound so sure. “I appreciate the offer, but like I said, I’ll let you know after the third round of the Trident. I just haven’t decided. I know he’s not performing particularly well—”

  “Which is why my offer, small as it may be, might be the best one you’ll get,” Prince Temujin cut in, sounding a little more firm.

  Mr. Henshaw was quiet for a moment. “I know that. But it’s not really about the money. I bought Regent Maximus for the pleasure of showing a Unicorn, not to make money. I’ll think on it, though.”