What I Wore to Save the World (25 page)

“Hello.” Through the mike I sounded like a scared kid, even to me. “I'm Morgan Rawlinson, and I'm running for Queen of the Faeries.”

The questions flew at me rapid-fire.

“Ms. Rawlinson! What made you decide to run for queen?”

“What are your qualifications for the job?”

“As queen, how will your policies differ from Titania's?”

“Do you believe in keeping the human and faery realms separate?”

“Is it true that you're only a half-goddess?”

“Some of the old myths refer to you as Titania's daughter. Can you comment on that?”

“Hang on a minute!” I held up a hand and waited for them to be quiet. “I can answer all your questions if you just let me talk. No, it wasn't my idea to run for Queen of the Faeries. I haven't even finished high school yet. But the unicorns told me that Titania was going to undo the veil between the magic realm and the human realm, and I knew that would cause chaos. As, obviously, it has.”

At that moment a cold, winged shadow swept over the crowd. We all raised our eyes to the sky. It was the dragon, swooping and circling overhead, leaving a shower of sparks in its wake. Even the magical beings looked nervous.

“I do think the realms should stay separate. It's not that the human realm and the magic realm are enemies. In fact, we need each other.” I thought of Tolkien. “Without the faery realm, humans would have a lot fewer cool books to read, for one thing. And human kids would be really bummed if there were no Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus. But humans get scared easily too. Humans like to know what the rules are and how things work. That's why we invented science, and multiplication, and stuff like that. It helps keep our lives organized. I mean, my mom's whole job is keeping people's closets organized and drawers decluttered. People like my mom serve a vital function in human society!”

That last improvised bit about my mom's personal organizer business had put me in real danger of cracking myself up. But I kept going. “Take it from a teenager: I know that having too many rules is a drag. But you have to have some if we're all going to be able to live in peace and harmony.”

Ugh. Now I was starting to sound like a folk song. The reporters were copying down my words at a furious pace. The red lights on the cameras indicated they were on, and they were all pointing at me. And the crowd was growing larger by the minute.

If I'd known I was going to be on TV I definitely would have changed into clean clothes,
I thought. At least I was still wearing the locket. If Colin was watching this on TV somewhere he might see that, anyway.

“How does this affect your plans for college?” one of the reporters called out.

“I don't know,” I said truthfully. “I might have to sacrifice my own plans for the good of everyone. But the way I see it, if the world gets completely wrecked by Titania, none of us will get the chance to do what we want with our lives. The human realm is already freaking out because of her meddling.” I glanced upward again. “And you guys in the faery realm don't seem too happy, either.”

There were many nervous looks skyward and cries of
Ow! Ow! Ow!
, as sparks from the dragon's fire breath floated down and landed on people's heads.

“But isn't it too late to change course?” a gnarly-looking troll yelled from the back. “Do you honestly think a messy, smelly, half-grown half-goddess like you can fix this mess?”

I ignored the smelly part—especially coming from a troll. “You're right: some problems are too big for one person to fix, but that just means we all have to do our part. Right now, my part is taking the throne away from Titania and restoring the veil between the realms. Your part might be something different.” I leaned in closer to the mike, just the way I'd seen Raph do at the graduation ceremony. “That's why they call it community service. If everybody
in
the community contributes something
to
the community, then the world keeps working. That's really all I have to say.”

“Ask them to vote for you,” Finnbar whispered in my ear.

“Oh, right! And I hope you'll vote for me. Thanks, everybody.”

“Save the world! Vote for Morganne!” Finnbar yelled, pumping his fists in the air. “Save the world! Vote for Morganne!”

Scattered portions of the crowd took up the chant. The reporters had all turned to face their cameras and spoke intently into handheld mikes as they glanced down at their notes. I was curious about what they were saying, but mainly I felt relieved. My first press conference was over. I hoped it would be my last.

Among the reporters, I spotted one guy who seemed familiar. Buff, prematurely gray, kind of too good-looking to be true. “Hey!” I turned to Finnbar, realizing where I'd seen him before. “Isn't that the anchor dude from CNN? Oh my God, my mom has such a huge crush on him.”

“You mean Anderson Cooper?” Finnbar leaned over to me and spoke confidentially. “Actually, he's one of ours. He's a student at the Elven School of Journalism. The cable gig is just an internship. I think he gets interdimensional extra credit.”

Finnbar rummaged inside the cardboard box, found a banner that read “Campaign HQ” and draped it over the podium. As people came by to get a closer look at me he handed out leaflets and signs, buttons and bumper stickers. I shook hands and waved.

Somebody handed me an adorable tiny pixie baby to kiss.
This running for office thing isn't so bad,
I thought, as the flashbulbs popped.
Who knows? If I ever get to finish high school, maybe I'll even run for student council.

 

 

 

the first sign of titania's arrival came moments later, when the water in the center of the reflecting pool began to churn. It sprayed upward, only a few feet at first, and then a few feet more, until there was an actual geyser erupting from the center of the pool.

Then, what looked like a scaled-down version of Johnny Depp's ship from
Pirates of the Caribbean
came rising out of the geyser, nose-first. The carved figurehead on the front of the ship was the spitting image of Titania. You could easily spot the resemblance because the queen herself stood at the helm of the ship, waving and blowing kisses at the crowd. She was dressed piratically, I guess you could call it: black lace-up bodice, a diamond-studded eye patch and a sword slung around her hip.

“Hello, fellow beings!” she yelled, peeking out from beneath her eye patch. “How do you like my campaign boat?”

There were pockets of cheering. The press, who only a few minutes before had been completely fascinated by my every comment, abruptly turned their backs to me so they could capture shots of Titania's highly theatrical entrance.

“I am
so
ready for my close-up, darlings!” she cried, as she stepped daintily onto dry land. “Now let the worshipping—oops, I mean the campaigning—begin!”

She preened and posed as the cameras whirred and clicked, until a firm voice from the back of the press corps called out: “Your Majesty! How did you end up having to defend your throne after all these years as queen?”

She dropped the beauty pageant act and grabbed the nearest mike. “You know, Anderson,” she crooned, “that is an excellent question, and I think all of us deserve to hear the answer. Especially me, so I can dish out the appropriate punishment.” She narrowed her eyes and surveyed the crowd. “Somebody, anybody,
please
tell me: Where did this ridiculous
amendment
about letting the people choose their own queen come from?”

I stepped forward. “I wrote it.”

“There's no rule that says you can do that.” Her voice dripped with ice, but her eyes were throwing off more sparks than the dragon.

“There's no rule that says I can't.” I turned to Finnbar. “Is there?”

He placed one hand on the
Book of Horns
. “There is not,” he said, sounding shaky.

Titania clucked her tongue. “
Et tu,
Finnbar? I'm so disappointed.” I saw his lip tremble, but he said nothing. Titania wheeled to face the crowd. “Fine, then. Let's get this nonsense over with. Miss Queen Wanna-Be here already gave her
tediously
sincere speech. I mean, get me some insulin, quick!”

That got a few mean-spirited laughs from the trolls. She smirked. “Now I'll give my far superior speech, which will be short and to the point. Then you'll all vote for me, and I'll continue the magnificent job I've done all these years of being your queen. This embarrassing election episode will be forgotten for all eternity. Are the cameras rolling?”

The cameramen nodded. A gargoyle swooped down and powdered Titania's nose as she yanked off the eye patch. “Come in nice and close, fellas—watch the claws, please!—I'm going to connect with my subjects now.” The gargoyle flew off, and the cameraman counted off on his fingers—
five, four, three, two—

“Ahem! My fellow Faery Folk,” Titania purred, gazing wistfully into the lens. “You know me as your loving, wise, compassionate and enviably chic ruler, Titania! I have always been queen. I'm queen right now. And rest assured, I will always be your queen.”

She batted her eyes and smiled sweetly. “Given that no one else but me has ever occupied my throne, I feel almost silly saying this. But ask yourselves: Who is more qualified for this position? Me! Who throws the most fabulous parties? Me! And if that isn't enough to earn your vote: take a moment to reflect. Look deep in your hearts. Do you remember how kind and generous and compassionate I've been to you all these many, many millennia?”

As one, the crowd shivered in fear.

“I can see that you do.” She smiled icily. “Remember that cozy feeling of gratitude and terror when it's time to cast your vote. And, cut.”

She tossed back her hair. “Any questions? No? Then let's get the formalities over with—”

“I have a question,” I called. I heard Finnbar suck in his breath, but I was too pissed off to be afraid. “Titania, removing the veil between the faery realm and the human realm will throw the world into chaos. How can you possibly justify your actions?”

“It's an offensive stereotype to assume that mortals don't want magic in their world. There's nothing humans love better than hocus-pocus and mumbo jumbo. Look at the stock market, for heaven's sake!” She scowled. “I know the poor ignorant mortals will be upset for a while, but they'll get over it. A teensy bit of rioting, famine, bloodbath, revolution . . . so what? It'll pass.”

“But not without a fight—and humans have been known to defend themselves to the death when they feel threatened,” I argued. “This could be the start of a human-faery war that would destroy everything!”

“Hear hear!” Finnbar applauded wildly. “That makes good sense!”

Titania's hand moved to the hilt of her sword. “I'm afraid I don't agree. Humankind will absolutely adore my plan to ‘unveil' the world; you'd have to be crazy not to. And I can prove that I'm right!”

There was a loud reaction from the crowd. Titania waved her sword in the air.

“Quiet down, everyone! The ‘Queen Titania 4-Evah Campaign' will now present a completely voluntary endorsement—from a human!” Titania gestured behind her to the pirate ship. “Don't mind his appearance; I just fished him out of the sea.”

From the hold of the pirate ship, through a trapdoor on deck, Mr. McAlister emerged. He was soaking wet, with frost on his hair and icicles hanging from the ends of his sleeves. He wore a life jacket stamped RMS
Titantic
, but the
c
was crossed out and an
a
was written in.

“Now, Devyn dear, step up to the mike and tell everyone how even
humans
prefer me as queen!” Titania held the microphone to his lips. “Go ahead, just do it like we practiced.”

Through chattering teeth, Mr. McAlister recited: “I am Devyn McAlister, the original designer of Castell Cyfareddol. In the past I could only build replicas of different architectural styles. But thanks to Titania, soon I'll be able to offer authentic buildings for my customers to enjoy! The Tower of London! The Taj Mahal! Castell Cyfareddol will grow faster and better than I ever dreamed of. My accountant predicts that this will increase our number of visitors by twenty percent a year. It's good for me, it's good for the economy and it's good for humans everywhere. Thank you.”

Titania snatched back the mike. “Thank you, soggy human! I am Queen of the Faeries, and I endorse this message!”

As phony as it was, the crowd seemed swayed by McAlister's speech. I heard snatches of comments—
wow, endorsed by a human . . . twenty percent a year is a lot . . . I've always wanted to see the Taj Mahal but I hate to fly . . .

“But Mr. McAlister is under an enchantment, can't you see that?” I yelled over the hubbub. Nobody was listening. “He doesn't know what he's saying!”

“Silly girl,” Titania growled in my ear. “A person doesn't have to know what he's saying to get on TV. And you call yourself a half-human! You're just mad you didn't think of it first.”

She put the mike back to her lips. “Now, come on, everybody! Let's stop wasting time and get on with this ridiculous vote. I've got a realm to rule!”

twenty-two

vote! vote! vote!

The piazza overflowed with human beings and magical beings. They spilled out onto the boardwalk and the beach. Pixies perched in the branches of the trees, and leprechauns rode on the backs of the topiary rabbits, hopping here and there trying to get a better view.

As the rock stars on ironically low-brow vacations, couples on budget-minded second honeymoons and disgraced members of the royal family shrieked and got out of the way, a pair of giants lumbered back and forth through the crowd, carrying really big signs that read “Titania Rules” and “Stick to the Queen You Know!”