Part 19 (1/2)
Lizzie and Briar performed a glitter-bomb fist b.u.mp. Lizzie realized what she'd just done and pulled her hand behind her back. She must be cautious if she was to avoid accidentally becoming friends with anyone-particularly Briar, who had so many friends that soon Lizzie would be in danger of sinking on a friend s.h.i.+p. She knew what her mother would say about that.
Briar pulled the launch lever, and another explosion of glitter cascaded over the crowd. Her laugh was loud and bubbly, and it made Lizzie want to laugh, too. Of course, her mother's card warning about friends.h.i.+p also made that odd allowance for pirates....
”Briar,” Lizzie said, ”have you considered sailing a big boat and perhaps stealing things from other boats?”
”Um... you mean, like a pirate?”
”Yes, exactly like a pirate,” Lizzie said. ”I would be much more comfortable speaking with you if you were a pirate.”
Briar put a finger to her chin, considering, and promptly glided to the ground, fast asleep.
”Arrr, Lizzie Hearts! Have ye killed Briar Beauty?” a voice asked from behind.
Daring Charming sauntered up and saluted her. He'd been so accommodating with her pirate request that Lizzie felt certain her mother couldn't disapprove of their friends.h.i.+p.
”Aren't you supposed to be racing?” Lizzie asked.
”No rush,” he said. ”I always win. Even when I don't.” He winked at her. ”Ahoy, matey.”
A UNICORN-DRAWN CARRIAGE LET THE SWIMMERS off at the lakesh.o.r.e. Cedar hopped out first and jogged down to her spot on the dock. The lake water was as blue as dwarf crystals and so still Cedar could see the pattern of splashes a mermaid's tail had left behind. Around her, the other swimmers were stretching. Wooden limbs never got injured, but Cedar stretched, too, so she wouldn't seem weird.
”I hope you do great today, Cedar,” said Poppy O'Hair, taking a place beside Cedar on the dock. Her hair was hidden in a blue swim cap.
”You, too, Poppy,” said Cedar. ”You are one of the nicest people I know.”
”Wow, thanks,” said Poppy. ”When someone else compliments me, I always wonder if they really mean it, but with you, I know.”
”Good day to you, Lady Wood!” Hopper Croakington II announced from her other side. He was in his frog form for the swimming, but what if he popped back into regular human Hopper in the middle of the lake? As much as Cedar longed to change into real Cedar, she didn't want it to happen during a swimming race.
In her nervousness, she didn't realize she was thumbing the thin line on her fingertip that had shown up after their mysterious Grimmnasium nap. It looked like a scar. Like a real, human scar. But, of course, wood didn't scar. She groaned and balled her hand into a fist to hide this further proof of her weirdness.
”What's wrong?” Raven asked, padding up next to her in bare feet. She had on a purple-and-black swimming dress, a glossy black swim cap covering her hair. At the last minute, d.u.c.h.ess Swan had dropped out, so Raven had volunteered to fill in for that team.
”I'm tired of being weird,” Cedar blurted against her will. ”I just want to be normal.”
”What's normal?” Raven said, tucking a rogue lock of hair back under her cap. ”No one is normal.”
”You-”
”I am the daughter of the Evil Queen, who rampaged and tried to destroy fairytales, and half the school thinks I'm more evil than her precisely because I'm trying not to be.”
”Apple-”
”Is perfect-and isn't that kind of weird? She never sweats. Have you noticed that? And all the birds? It must get old having birds constantly landing all over her and pecking her adoringly. And why doesn't she ever have bird p.o.o.p on her dress?”
”But... but everyone else-”
”When Hopper there gets tongue-tied, he turns into a frog,” said Raven. ”Briar is so determined not to miss a second of life before her one-hundred-year snooze that she stays up all night and then is napping randomly all day. Holly's and Poppy's hair grows, like, twenty feet a day. Cerise never takes off her hood. Ashlynn is all nature-girl and one with the animals and trees-unless you wave a pair of new shoes at her, and she absolutely loses her mind. Every time Hunter strikes a heroic pose, trumpets play a fanfare. Invisible trumpets. Who plays them? And why? And... and how? And I don't even have to mention Maddie. So you're made of wood and can't tell a lie. So that's a little weird. Look around! We're all weird.”
Cedar did look around. She laughed. ”I guess... I guess I just thought everyone else was normal-weird and I was...” She laughed again. ”From inside my own head, I seem so different.”
”We all do.” Raven hugged her. ”And we are, thank the G.o.dmother. Can you imagine how boring life would be if we weren't? Life without weirdness would have to be fake.”
”Being different is what makes things real, and I'm different,” Cedar said aloud without meaning to, but she didn't mind.
The crowd lining the race began cheering.
”That means the runners are close,” Raven said. ”We better get ready-or you better get ready, since Cerise is on your team. She's sure to be here any-”
”On your right!” called out Cerise to a few scattered gasps from the crowd. She was way ahead of everyone else.
Cedar felt the sudden instinct to take a deep breath, which was ridiculous, because she had no lungs. But she imagined herself taking a breath and somehow knew exactly what that felt like. She laughed just as Cerise planted the waterproof relay scroll in her hand.
”What's wrong?” Cerise said, huffing and puffing from her run.
”Nothing!” Cedar shouted as she splashed into the water. And it was true.
MADELINE HATTER WAS IN THE GROVE planting Wondodendron shoots in the rich black soil. The whole school was there, even the Tiara-thalon athletes, the swimmers still wet. Maddie was about to ask Cedar to stand closer so her dripping hair would water the plant when Maddie heard an unfamiliar voice.
What voice, Narrator? Your voice is very familiar to me. And, oh, I'm tippy-toe-tapping to hear it again and it's sense-making and story-giving!
Madeline Hatter, I am the Chief Chronicler, and I- Oh, that voice. Yes, that is unfamiliar. And so serious! I'm sorry to laugh, but serious stuff makes me feel ticklish in my ribs and hiccupy in my smile. I start to think about a serious little family of guinea pigs I once knew in Wonderland who always wore suits and ties and dresses and practical shoes and walked around, mumbling about ”declining stock prices” and ”society today.”
Madeline Hatter, please pay attention. Things are very serious. Sacred rules of narration have been broken, and- Oh no! Please don't blame my cutie-patootie Narrator! Surely you know my Narrator was doing the best possible in a skrimpippled situation. And dangerous. So dangerous! And, yes, even serious. Besides, no one remembers what happened except me!
Yes, yes, of course. Your Narrator could hardly be blamed for being garbled by the Jabberwock's magic. Now, when you stepped in- I'm the one in trouble? Oh twinkle bats! Please don't banishment me. I know I broke lots of narration rules. Sometimes I said ”I,” and to get rid of the Jabberwock I narrated what wasn't exactly happening in order to make it really, really happen, which I know is a Big Bad No-No. And I got distracted and started talking about myself more than the main characters, Lizzie and Cedar. I know I'm not the main character, and I wasn't trying to be. I'm the quirky best friend; I'm the lovable sidekick; I'm the comic relief. I'm not the hero. I know this. It was all just so complicatish and worry-making, and I felt like I was wearing an extra-tight thinking cap but not just on my head. Everywhere! And- Madeline Hatter...
...I'm sorry. I'll never step on the Narrator's invisible toes again and just stay away from the action and not make a peep and never, ever after think I could possibly be a hero.
Is she always like this?
Always.
Narrator! You're supposed to be on my side!
I am, believe me. And I will be on your side forever after. I am officially Madeline Hatter's number one fan. Now, please listen. The Chief Chronicler isn't mad at you. Or me. She's... well, I'd say, she's impressed. And grateful. And- Stunned.
Stunned, yes, but grateful, too. This is serious. Seriously exciting! We have something for you.
Ahem. Madeline Hatter, you are the first non-Narrator to be awarded one of our highest honors. Although you can't see it, I just pinned to your collar the Golden Glyph, a medal honoring your bravery, quick-thinking, and impressive narrative skills.
Good golden goose eggs, really? That's tea-riffic! I wish I could give you a hug!
Chief Chronicler, if you don't mind... may I narrate The End of this story?
Yes, please, go right ahead.
And this is what happened next. Ahem.
PEOPLE WERE USED TO MADELINE HATTER talking to herself, so her friends hadn't thought two things about the seemingly one-sided conversation she'd been having for the past several minutes. But now something new happened. A wind batted at Maddie's hair. No one else in the Grove even felt a breeze, and yet Maddie's lavender-and-mint-green curls wisped and lifted around her head. Her skirt flapped; her hat tipped. And then she began to rise.