Granny is shocked. “Where’s all those animal protection societies when you need them!”
“It’s not toxic paint, Granny.”
“Chicken, this whole place is toxic!”
It’s true you can’t move an inch without being assaulted by products for Super-Rory-Us, mostly the new princess dolls that are selling like hotcakes.
Suddenly there’s a blare of trumpets. The procession begins and in comes Bliss, tottering slightly in the saddle. She dismounts and walks up the stairs, Joy tending to her train. Once Bernice saw how Constance was dressed, she refused to let her be part of the procession. This did not exactly crush Constance. Bernice herself wears a little crown.
“Let us welcome Princess Rory and of course her dear mum, Gyrfrid,” the emcee proclaims. Bernice looks about as much like Gyrfrid as the painted horse looks like Calamity. They have put sparkles on Bernice’s eyelashes and she’s wearing a wig that is about two feet high. So much for the simple peasant life.
Bliss dismounts and begins swishing around, giving a royal wave to the crowd. A court herald comes out and reads a proclamation. “Hear ye! Hear ye!”
I’m suddenly nervous about the movie. I don’t listen to the rest. I hope everything works. Cassie says it will. For the first time in ages, I feel almost great, even if a bit nervous. I have lost Mom but I look around and I see Eli and Constance and Granny, and next to Granny is Cassie. Our team!
Dad asks if Granny and I want to walk the red carpet with him when we arrive at the movie theater. Bernice looks appalled. If my outfit and Constance’s irk her, Granny’s totally freaks her out. Granny is wearing a funny little hat with a soft explosion of Mottled Houdan chicken feathers and a vintage dress, and for a pocketbook she carries what looks to be a feed bag tarted up with some ribbons, lace, and appliqué work that Mom made for a high school play. She looks like a demented fairy godmother.
“No!” I nearly shout.
“I only asked, Ryder.” Dad looks crestfallen.
“What happened to me being protected from all of this? You and Mom didn’t want me exposed!” I tug on the veil that I sewed onto the pearl cap to emphasize the point.
“You’re my daughter, and I just thought…” His voice trails off.
“Don’t spoil your father’s day,” Bernice says.
Just you wait, I think. Then there’s a sharp nudge in my ribs.
“Do it!” Granny hisses. She turns to Dad and says very sweetly, “Ralph, that’s a grand idea. I am honored. After all, I am Andy’s mom.”
My dad’s face almost melts in gratitude. Tears come to his eyes. “Oh, Amanda, I’m the one who is honored. Both of you ride with me in the limo. Please?”
“But, Ralphie, darling, there won’t be room in the car,” Bernice says.
“You ride with your daughters, Bernice.”
“I…I can’t believe this, Ralph. I am coproducer.” She is fuming.
Granny turns to her. “Bernice, honey, don’t be a crankypants.”
“Yes, Bernice, don’t be a crankypants,” Dad says. My mouth drops open—yay, Dad! Bernice’s face seems to twitch. Something is happening and the movie hasn’t even started.
At the theater, a reporter shoves a microphone in my face.
“It’s rumored that you, Ryder, are the inspiration for the Super-Rory-Us series. Is that true, Ryder?”
“Uh…I’m just me.” I tug on my veil.
Then Bernice edges in. “It is true that this darling little girl was the inspiration for Rory early on, but as you’re going to see in the movie…”
Granny gives a sharp poke to Dad’s back.
He steps in front of Bernice, blocking the camera. He looks awfully pale and very agitated. “I don’t think we should give away anything before we see the movie.” Dad immediately puts his arm around my shoulders and begins walking quickly. “No more questions, thank you very much. We’ll talk after the show!”
“Ralph, what is wrong with you?” Bernice is almost running to keep up.
—
Five minutes later we’re in our seats. I’m on one side of Dad, Bernice on the other, and Granny’s next to me. Constance, Bliss, and Joy are on the other side of Bernice. The Super-Rory-Us theme music begins to play. The first shot is the tranquil landscape of Ecalpon. A voice comes up, just as in the original script.
“Once there was a girl who on the eve of her birthday dreamed of marrying a prince and becoming a princess in a fair land….” I feel Dad take my hand. His is clammy. He looks even paler. The dream sequence begins and the first glimpses of the voluptuous new Rory take shape. A slight titter runs through the audience.
It becomes clear quite quickly that this new Rory is part of a dream, a bad dream. Outside, a storm is brewing. Thunder rumbles and lightning cracks the sky. Rory wakens.
Shazam!
—
She jumps out of bed and I swear gives a little wink directly to me. She starts to sing. “Dream Smasher.” It’s the same music as the old song but different lyrics, and we speeded up the tempo. It’s more of a rap.
A storm’s a-brewing, a nightmare’s stewing
And I gotta scream about this dream:
I hate corsets and high heels
Lipstick, makeup, make me squeal.
Take it back! Take it back! Take it back!
Gimme my boots and my old slingshot
My cape and my britches
No more of these stitches!
My hair’s a mess
I look a fright
Yeah, well, tough
Reality bites.
But hey, it’s me
The real girl me
Shazam I am!
So it’s off with makeup
I won’t leave a trace
I don’t want this junk all over my face.
I’m through with the gown
The tiara too
I’m off on adventures
Only I can do!
With that, Rory rips off her glittery gown to reveal the original Super-Rory-Us—boots, tunic, and bow slung over her shoulder. The audience goes crazy. They love it. I feel Dad’s hand squeeze mine. His color is back. Tears stream from his eyes.
“Ryder, how is this happening?”
“Make Magic Happen, Dad. Does that ring a bell?” But I think to myself the real magic is Dad. He is transforming before my eyes. My old dad is back! He’s back! He’s hinged! Meanwhile, beside us, Bernice and Bliss and Joy are stifling shrieks.
—
The strangest and most unmagical moments of all occur hours later, after the movie, after the after-party and after we get home.
I am hiding behind some bushes near the pool as Dad tells Bernice that they can’t see each other anymore.
“It’s not working, Bernice. I told you from the start, the thing that matters most to me is my daughter. I don’t like the way you and Joy and Bliss treat her.”
“But what about me?”
“Our values are too different. I’m grateful for your help, and I always will be, but we just don’t belong together.”
She searches for a hankie and can’t find one, but Dad pulls a fresh one from his pocket.
“Here,” he says softly. She dabs at her eyes and then throws the hankie on the ground, stomping off. Dad goes inside the house and I creep from my hiding place. I pick up the hankie. Dry as can be, but there is something. A spider? No. A false eyelash stuck to the edge. I remember that glistening tear that melted out of the featureless face of Rory’s wireframe. The miracle, TD called it. This is the opposite. Tomorrow is trash day. I walk over to our trash can and throw the hankie in.
“Ryder!” Dad steps out the door. “What are you doing out there?”
“Uh, nothing, Dad.”
“I think you were eavesdropping,” he says, and chuckles. “Come inside. Connie—I mean, Constance has something to show you.”
“Constance is still here?”
“She’ll be here for a few more days.”
“Da
d, she can’t go back to Bernice. Her life is miser—” The word dies on my lips as I walk into the kitchen. Constance is beaming.
“Ryder! My dad. He’s coming for me.” She waves a letter.
Dad says, “It arrived while we were at the premiere.”
“And there’s an airline ticket in it!”
“Where are you going?” I say.
“First stop Washington, DC, and then—oh, this is so exciting—we’re going to Patagonia for a birding expedition. But best of all, I get to live with Dad now and forever!”
“B-but…b-but…” I’m stammering. “How did all this happen?”
She looks over at my dad. “Can you explain, Ralph?”
“I began to wonder about Constance’s dad. Things that Bernice told me didn’t add up. I called a friend of mine, a private detective. He began to look into it. Seems like Constance’s dad, Harry Tripplehorn, worked for the National Science Foundation on some pretty secret projects, including one on climate change in the Arctic.”
My head is spinning. I look at Constance. “Are you going away with your dad forever?”
“Not forever.” She flings her arms around me and gives me a hug.
And I have a sudden yearning for Rory and the virtual world. It’s almost as if I’m homesick.
“Pardon me,” I say, and dash off to my bedroom.
Granny is fast asleep. I turn on the television and keep the volume low. I have to see Rory. She has to come out. I have to tell her about everything. She saved the movie, saved me, saved Dad. And now all this stuff with Constance. I flick through the channels. Every late-night news show is blaring with the breaking news of the extraordinary new Super-Rory-Us movie and the “big surprise.” Gwen Avery, the entertainment reporter, is on.
“Well, talk about super surprise! Rumors of a Rory makeover have abounded in recent weeks. But Rory hasn’t changed—she’s better than ever!”
I change channels. Where’s Rory? She is not on any channels this late. I find it on streaming, but it’s an old one of Rory trying to sneak into a jousting tournament. I’ve seen it a million times. Still, can’t she just stop for a second and turn around and notice that I’m at a loss here? How did she do it that first time she crossed over? She was fighting the pirates and suddenly she just stepped out. I am ready to cry. She can’t leave me now. I go right up to the screen. I want to beat on it, claw it. I press my face against it. How can you do this to me? Was it all a dream? Don’t smash this dream!
—
“God’s kneecaps, get out of the way! And your snot is all over the screen. It’s like tramping through a swamp. Gross! Ugh!”
I fall backward onto the carpet. “I thought you’d gone. Gone forever.”
“Without saying goodbye?” She swings one leg out of the set.
“Goodbye?” I ask, and get a funny feeling in my gut. “But you don’t have to go. Won’t you ever come back?”
She tucks in her lip as if she’s trying not to say something. “Look, Ryder, you’re going to grow up and change.”
“But not yet. And I finally caught up with you three months ago!”
“Yes, but you will change.”
“Rory, we’re sisters! Our mom made us both. That flicker she gave us—that is our connection and it will never change. I can’t outgrow you. Part of me will always be eleven.”
Rory smiles. “God’s teeth, girl, I still have work to do. Girls, young girls, who see through the grime, the guts, to the glory of a girl like me who can do things they never dared imagine,” she whispers. I look around my room. I get the feeling we are somewhere between no place and magic. “So many things, Ryder,” Rory says. “But we’ll see each other again….Our next birthday! How about that?”
“I’ll be twelve and you’ll still be eleven!”
“So what? We’ll always be friends…always, always!”
“Yes,” I say softly. “Always.”
I feel a touch light as a butterfly on my shoulder, but when I turn back, Rory is gone.
And then a hand grasping mine, squeezing it tight. It’s Constance.
“Ryder, we’re sisters too. We’ll always be sisters. More than I could ever be with Joy or Bliss.”
“We are?” I say weakly.
“Definitely. I’ll come back, with Dad. We’ll go owling.”
“I don’t think there’re any owls in Bel Air.”
I hear a sigh from behind me. “There are in Deadwood, chicken. Got all sorts. Spotted owls, burrowing owls, elf owls. Cutest things you ever saw. And there’s a lovely barn owl, right where he should be, in my barn! But he lets the chickens be. You two and your dads come out for Thanksgiving. We’ll go owling, and we’ll all be together again. You betcha.”
Granny’s on Calamity, I’m on Delbert, and Dad’s riding a new horse named TD. But this TD is a girl, a filly. She has a sweet way about her, a steadiness. A few minutes back, a rattler slithered out from under some brush and TD cut a gentle swerve out of its path, then trotted on despite the fact that Dad gave a yelp that scared some chickadees into flight. It’s the end of November and there’ve already been a few snow flurries. Constance and her dad come for Thanksgiving in two days. I’m pretty excited. But a metallic glint catches my eye ahead on the trail. Granny doesn’t seem to notice it as she passes by, nor does Dad. I lean over when I come up on it, see that it’s just a tin can caught in a patch of briars. But it draws me like iron filings to a magnet. I stop and slide off Delbert. It’s an old vegetable can. I give it a nudge. A little lizardy thing scuttles out and flashes its eyes. “Jeeves!” I whisper. But it’s gone. I touch the can with a feeling of reverence. The Trash Can Trail! Maybe! Possibly! Where might it lead?
The sun begins to slide down like the old copper coin on Mom’s crazy quilt, and in the very last instant, when it’s as low as it goes on the horizon, there’s another wink of light as the can catches its reflection.
—
“Ryder?” Granny turns around in her saddle. “Whatcha doin’ back there, chicken?”
“Just looking, Granny. Just looking!”
But I can’t help wondering: just how far is it from here to Ecalpon?
Kathryn Lasky has written more than one hundred books and won many awards, including the Newbery Honor for Sugaring Time, the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award for Weaver’s Gift, and the National Jewish Book Award for both Night Journey and Marven of the Great North Woods. She is best known for the New York Times bestselling Guardians of Ga’Hoole series, which inspired the major motion picture The Owls of Ga’Hoole, recently listed by CineFix as one of the Top Ten Most Beautiful Animated Movies of All Time. She has two grown children. Visit her online at kathrynlasky.com.
Kathryn Lasky, More Than Magic
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