What I Wore to Save the World (21 page)

“What yellow envelope?” I kept the large envelope with the Rules of Succession in it pinned under my arm. “Oh, that! More college stuff, probably.
Fek!”
I shrieked, out of nowhere. “I just thought of something horrible!”

Colin jumped back. “What? What is it?”

Think of something horrible, quick,
I urged myself. “Um . . . my parents! All the computers in our house are on a network my dad set up so we could share the printer. If someone is hacking my computer, couldn't that person get into my parents' bank accounts and stuff too?”

“It's a risky situation, to be sure. But don't panic—”

My attempt to change the subject through the use of extreme drama (also known as the Tammy Technique) was working. “And my dad
works
at a bank! What if they hack into his work account? This could cause, like, a worldwide financial disaster of really large global proportions!” I backed away from Colin. “I have to find Mr. McAlister and call them on the oPhone right away.”

Colin looked bewildered. “They have courtesy phones right inside the lobby, Mor; if ye're that upset ye should call them right now—”

“I can't!” If I'd known how to make myself froth at the mouth I would have. “They still think I'm at Oxford! I'll just say my wallet was stolen and they should cancel all the accounts and change all the passwords on everything. That should do it. I'll see you later. I'm going to find the oPhone.”

“I'll come with ye—”

“
Noooooooo!”
I was practically whinnying. “You stick to the game plan! Look for clues! That's more important.”

Before he could argue with me any more, I turned and ran full speed toward the boardwalk, in the direction of the forest.

 

 

 

crunch. crunch. crunch.

Surely the unicorns could hear me crashing through the trees like a drunken elephant? Where were they?

“Epona!” I was so winded from running I could barely get the word out. My heartbeat hammered in my ears. “Unicorns! Show yourselves, already!”

In the distance, thunder. The ground shook. Then, a trumpet blast—the kind that might come from a long, whorled horn—

It was the unicorns, galloping through the trees like a four-legged halftime show on steroids.

“You've come back!” Epona circled me once and pranced in place excitedly. “Did you find the Rules of Succession?”

“Yes!” Still panting, I waved the envelope. “I have them right here.”

“Sweeeeeeeeeet!” Epona whinnied. “Give it up, unicorns: one more time!”

OMG,
I thought wearily.
Headache. Rapidly. Coming. On.

“Where were the Rules hidden?” one of the unicorns asked.

I was tempted to say
in my underwear drawer, of course.
But this was no time to wisecrack. “In the library at Oxford. They were written in the
Book of Horns
.”

Awestruck whinnies filled the air. When the noise subsided, Epona explained, “The
Book of Horns
is the most important book in all of Faery, written by the unicorns at the beginning of time. It contains various rules, regulations, points of etiquette, tax codes, the Faery Bill of Rights, emergency phone numbers, that sort of thing.”

Now I was confused. “So, wait—if it was written by the unicorns, how come you guys don't have a copy?”

“We did, once, eons ago.” Epona hung her head. “But we lost it.” There was some background bickering from the herd—
You lost it! No, I gave it to you—did not—did so—

These unicorns are pretty to look at,
I thought,
but not what I would call geniuses.
“Well, it doesn't matter now. The Rules of Succession are in this envelope.” I held it out to Epona. “Go ahead, open it.”

“Not so fast! We've prepared a ceremony to mark the occasion.”

I thought of the gargoyles, lurking in the bushes. “No offense, but we don't have time. The veil is already slipping—”

Epona blinked at me. “We like to put on a show. It's a unicorn thing.”

Then, right on cue, the unicorns did a big light wave with their horns. Two of them, including the little one I'd rescued from Titania, bounded up to me and put wreaths of flowers in my hair.

“Close your eyes, Morganne.”

Fine, let's get this over with,
I thought. I closed my eyes.

“Destiny is written in the stars, but it also must be chosen. Do you choose yours, Morganne?”

“Uh, sure.”

I felt warm horse-breath on my neck, as Epona whispered, “Say ‘Yes, I choose my destiny.' That's the way we practiced it.”

“Yes, I choose my destiny.” Why did I suddenly feel like a Pokémon master? “But—wait—I still have a few questions about this Queen of the Faeries gig—”

But it was too late. Epona blew a little trumpet call through her horn. “Summon the
Book of Horns
!”

Eyes still closed, I offered the envelope again.

“That isn't a book,” someone complained.

“I know,” I said, annoyed. “It's a photocopy. The
Book of Horns
is non-circulating. It's the best I could do.”

“Photocopies are acceptable!” Epona assured the unicorns. “And now, for the first time anywhere, at least that we can recall: the Rules of Succession!”

Epona slit open the envelope with her horn, which also served as a handy booklight. She speared the single sheet of paper it contained and lifted it high.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“Hmmm.” She stared at it some more. “It's a bit inscrutable, I'm afraid.”

“Can't you read it?” I was getting antsy. “I was told it was written in unicorn.”

“Oh, it is, it is. But my vision is not what it was.” She shook her horn a bit so the paper slid farther away from her eyes. “There, got it!” she cried. “It's—drat, it's a prophecy.”

“A prophecy, a prophecy!” The unicorns stamped their hooves and flicked their tails in excitement. One of them tried to start a spontaneous cheer: “Pee Are Oh! Ef Ee See!”

“It's not Ef, it's Pee Aitch,” another unicorn interrupted. Then the cheer degenerated into a heated debate about how to spell prophecy.

“Please, can you just read what it says?” I begged. “The dragon statue on the boardwalk looks ready to take off.”

The unicorns quickly pulled it together with a deafening “Goooooo, prophecy!”

Epona returned to the paper and gave a little clearing-her-throat whinny. “It says here: ‘The Rules of Succession are contained in ‘The Prophecy of the Three Clowns,' which is as follows:

All those earnest, shining unicorn eyes were locked on me, filled with hope.

“Clowns?” I blurted. “You've got to be kidding.”

“Hang on, hang on.” Epona made her horn light a little brighter and squinted. “My bad. It's not clowns. It's
crowns
. Sorry about that. Oh! Underneath the prophecy it reads: ‘P.S.—You'll understand once you're Queen.'” Epona looked kind of embarrassed. “That's it. The Rules of Succession. Any idea what it means?”

I didn't even try to hide my grumpiness. “No. But I guess I'm going to have to figure it out, aren't I?”

Apparently the unicorns took my sarcasm as a resounding yes. “Out! Out! She's going to figure it out! Gooooooooooo, Morgan!”

 

 

 

several more whinnied cheers and some elaborate pyramid formations later (complete with flying stunts), and the party finally broke up.

Now I was on my own, stomping back through the woods and trying to make sense of this mysterious “destiny” I apparently had no choice but to choose.

After all that, and the Rules of Succession were nothing but a joke. To find out how to become queen I had to understand the prophecy, but before I could understand the prophecy I had to be queen. Brilliant. It reminded me of the way my dad complained that you could only buy health insurance if you weren't sick.

“Typical faery logic,” I muttered aloud in frustration. And then I heard a crack, like a tree branch snapping. There was a muffled cry. Directly in front of me, something substantial fell with a loud thud to the forest floor.

Correction: some
one
.

Someone about six feet tall, to be precise. Someone I loved more than anything, who was also the very last person I wanted to see sprawled on the ground in a pile of leaves and broken branches, staring at me as if—
as if—

“Fek,” Colin said, rubbing his head.

I didn't know whether to help him up or run away screaming. “Colin! Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. It wasn't a very high branch. Or a very strong one, apparently. I don't suppose ye'd believe me if I said I was up there pickin' apples.”

His tone was light, but he was staring up at me with the strangest expression on his face. Like he was looking at a ghost—
or a half-goddess from the land of faery claptrap—

Quickly I reached up and yanked the flowers out of my hair.

“Colin—how much did you see?”

“Just—ye know—the bit with you and the uh, unicorns.” He sounded like he was about to choke.

“Oh
fek
!” I buried my face in my hands. “Fek fek fek fek
fek
!”

“That last flyin' pyramid routine was damned impressive,” he added, his voice strained. “They're very agile beasts, I must say.” He scrambled to his feet. “I shouldna followed ye, I know. But I couldn't stand not knowin' what was really goin' on.”

“Colin—”

“I knew ye were keepin' something from me, Mor, I could tell. Ye were actin' fairly daft there by the pool. But, holy cow, girl! Queen of the Faeries? It's a bit much to take in.”

“You weren't supposed to see all that,” I said helplessly. “I'm sorry.” I stepped toward him, but he took a step back. “I'm so sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Ye mean ye're sorry I found out, don't ye? Were ye never planning on tellin' me, then?” His voice was flat, but there was a flash of feeling in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Or something worse?

“I-I don't know,” I stammered. “I was afraid you wouldn't believe me.”

“I'm not sure what to believe, to tell ye the truth.”

He stretched out his hand. For a moment I thought it might be a gesture of forgiveness. But it was my hair he was reaching toward, and he came away with a sprig of violets.

He held it in two fingers, as if it were a strange and possibly dangerous object. “Is this part of yer faery princess getup, then?” His voice was thick, almost a sob.

Clearly he was too freaked out to say more, but it didn't matter. Everything I needed to know was written on his face. Confusion. Betrayal. Disbelief. Colin's eyes were a transparent blue pool that reflected only the truth. I could see myself mirrored in them with perfect clarity.

I was a stranger, not the person he'd once stupidly thought he loved.

I was something freakish, even repellent. Something that wasn't supposed to exist.

I was something he didn't—
refused to
—believe in.

It was over. We'd been, literally, too good to be true. And now that the truth was out—

Without thinking, my hand went to the locket around my neck.

He noticed the gesture. “Keep it,” he said, his voice cracking.

Then he turned and ran, bashing his way through the forest like he was running for his life.

nineteen

howling, blubbering noises echoed through the forest, and they were all coming from me. I felt like a lead basketball had lodged itself in my chest. All I wanted to do was stay curled up on the ground and scream into the dirt.

Every soap bubble of happiness in the world had popped. At the end of each magic leprechaun rainbow was nothing but a steaming pot of misery.

Colin had discovered the truth of who I was, and now he hated me. Who could blame him? I was a lying weasel of a human being and a completely wimpy excuse for a half-goddess.

While he was the greatest, funniest, sweetest, not to mention hottest guy in the world.

Face it, Morgan,
my inner voice sneered.
He deserves someone much better than you anyway.

Gulping deep breaths, I made the heroic effort to uncurl from fetal position, and rose to my hands and knees on the damp ground.
Yes, he does,
I agreed.

I tried to take some comfort in that realization. Now that he was rid of me, at least one of us would eventually get a chance to be happy. Of the two of us I'd much rather it was him.

Colin deserved nothing but happiness. He'd never lie about who he was to someone he loved. He wouldn't be capable of it. His proud Irish heart was as true-blue as the color of his eyes. Even if I lived to be a hundred and fifty, I knew I'd never find anyone like him again.

If he were lucky, he'd never find anyone like me again, either.