It was very hard for me to sit still.
“Our trip will also include a behind-the-scenes tour of the circus and a close-up look at their unicorn,” said Ms. Colman with a smile. “So you will be able to decide for yourselves whether it is real or not.”
“Will we be close enough to see the masking tape holding the horn to its head?” asked Bobby Gianelli. Several kids in class laughed.
That did not bother me. I turned around in my chair and grinned at Hannie and Nancy. They smiled back. Next Tuesday we would see the unicorn. And then everyone would know that I was right!
* * *
“The first-, second-, and third-graders are going,” I told my little-house family at dinner that night. “I cannot wait. I have already been thinking about what to wear.”
Dinnertime is when my family shares special news and events. Tonight I was trying to share, but only Andrew was listening. Mommy and Seth were quiet. Mommy gave me a smile, but I did not know if she had heard me.
“What is wrong?” I asked.
Mommy sighed. “Seth and I have been looking for a new workshop space. It is very hard to find.” (Mommy helps Seth in his shop.)
“Why is it hard?” asked Andrew.
“The places that are big enough are too expensive. The places we can afford are too small,” explained Seth.
Andrew and I looked at each other. These were grown-up problems. I did not know how to fix them. I do not like it when Mommy and Seth have grown-up problems. I like it when everything is fine.
“I could work longer hours to make more money to pay more rent,” said Seth. He and Mommy both looked unhappy at that idea.
“You already work very hard,” said Mommy.
“I could take on some refinishing projects,” said Seth. “They pay well.”
“You would not be very happy doing that,” said Mommy.
I sighed and pushed my carrots around on my plate. I wanted to talk about the circus. I wanted to talk about the unicorn. I decided that after dinner I would read to Andrew about unicorns.
The Wishing Plan
“Do not let go!” cried Andrew. He was pedaling hard. I ran behind him down the sidewalk, holding on to the rack over the back tire.
“I cannot keep up!” I said. “Just pedal!”
Andrew turned his head to see if I was still there.
“Do not turn around!” I yelled. But it was too late. Crash! That was the second time this morning that Andrew had plowed headfirst into our neighbor’s hedge. I helped him haul the bike out of the bush. We flopped down on the grass, breathing hard.
“Andrew,” I said. “This is just not a good idea.”
“Yes it is,” insisted Andrew. “I am getting better.”
“Why don’t we go inside and watch Saturday-morning cartoons?” I said. “It is almost time for Boom-Boom the Wonder Cat.”
“I do not want to watch cartoons,” said Andrew. “Besides, Mommy will say it is too pretty outside to be inside watching TV.”
Andrew had a point. Mommy and Seth do not like TV that much. And it was very pretty outside. I sat up. So far this morning Andrew had crashed into the hedge twice, into a tree once (he had cried that time), and into the big pile of leaves that Mr. Dawes had raked up on his front lawn. Mr. Dawes had not been very happy about having to rake up the leaves again.
But still Andrew would not give up. Everyone said he was too young and too little to ride a two-wheeler, but he did not believe them. On our street were a bunch of other kids. Bobby Gianelli lived close by. His little sister, Alicia, was four, just like Andrew. She still rode a tricycle. Willie Barnes was five years old. He rode a tricycle (a big black one).
“Why don’t we paint your tricycle black?” I suggested. “Then it will look very powerful.”
“Tricycles are for babies!” Andrew said. He stood up. He picked up the bicycle. I thought, Here we go again.
* * *
After lunch, I went to my room to think. I had a lot to think about. Right now, no one in my little-house family was very happy. (Except me.) Andrew was trying too hard to ride a two-wheeler. Mommy and Seth were worried about the workshop. I decided we all needed help.
Where would we get help? From the magical, wonderful unicorn, of course! In just three days I would see a real, live unicorn. I would even see it up close. I knew that if I made wishes while I was very close to the unicorn, my wishes would probably be granted. It was a great idea!
I sat down at my desk and made a list. Some wishes were for my family. Some were for me.
I felt much better when I had finished my list. I knew once the unicorn got to work on my wishes, everything would be better.
That night at dinner I tapped my fork against my glass.
“Attention, everyone, please,” I said. “I just want to announce that all of our problems will be taken care of next week.”
“What problems?” asked Andrew.
“Your bike riding,” I told him. “And Seth’s workshop. When I see the unicorn at the circus on Tuesday, I am going to wish for these problems to be solved. So you see, you have nothing to worry about. Next week everything will be fine again. We will not have to worry anymore. The unicorn will fix everything.”
“Oh, great!” Andrew said happily. “That is good news. Thank you, Karen.”
“No problem,” I said. I munched on a celery stick. Mommy and Seth nodded and smiled. They did not look one hundred percent convinced. I knew they did not really believe in the unicorn. But I did. And that was what was important.
Circus DeMarco
On Tuesday morning I chose my clothes carefully. This is what I wore for our circus field trip: my new jeans, my pink-and-white unicorn sweatshirt, my pink socks, and my white sneakers. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and tied it with a pink-and-white scrunchie. Last, I stuck my list of wishes into my pocket. I hoped the unicorn would like my sweatshirt. I hoped he would be able to tell that I really believed in him.
At school, three yellow buses waited for us. Nancy and I decided to be partners, and Hannie was going to be Natalie Springer’s partner.
I could hardly sit still. After we had been on the bus for awhile, Nancy said, “Karen, please quit bouncing. You are going to make me bus-sick.” After that I tried to sit quietly.
The Circus DeMarco was at the Old Fairgrounds. When we arrived, we saw a huge green-and-yellow striped tent. Two smaller tents were off to the side. Inside the big tent we had great seats, right in the second row. (The first-graders sat in the first row.)
I was so excited I had to hop all the way into the tent and down the aisle to our seats. When the lights dimmed and the ringmaster came out, I grabbed Nancy’s hand and squeezed it. She smiled at me.
You have probably been to a circus before, so I do not have to describe everything. But I will tell you some things. First we saw a man and a woman and a little boy who could bend themselves into pretzels. Then we saw two girls on the trapeze. I thought they were going to fall a bunch of times, but they did not. Then a man and a woman walked on the tightrope and jumped up and down on it. They held little umbrellas.
Nancy, Hannie, Natalie, and I shared a large popcorn and a bag of peanuts.
We saw clowns who did acrobatic stunts, and a strong man who could lift practically anything (even a heavy trunk full of bricks).
I loved seeing all the acts, but what I really wanted to see was the unicorn.
After the strong man’s act, the circus tent suddenly went dark. Everyone was very quiet. Out of the darkness came the ringmaster’s voice.
“And now, ladies, gentlemen, and kids of all ages,” he said, “comes the moment you’ve been waiting for. Long believed extinct or mythical, the unicorn is rarely seen by mere mortals. It is our great privilege to bring to you the unicorn of the Circus DeMarco!”
I clapped as hard as I could. One spotlight shone at the back of the tent. Sparkly glitter swirled down from the ceiling like magical snow.
I gasped. “The unicorn!”
&nb
sp; A beautiful, pure-white unicorn stepped slowly into the spotlight. On its forehead was a long, straight horn with a bit of a spiral, like soft ice cream. Its white mane and tail looked silky. It wore a fancy jeweled bridle on its head and a shiny sequined blanket, but no reins or saddle. The sparkly glitter shone all around it, and the spotlight gleamed. The unicorn looked as if it were made out of a magical moonbeam. It was the most gigundoly beautiful thing I had ever seen.
The unicorn trotted slowly around the large ring. I almost made my wishes then. But I decided to wait until I saw it up close. Into the ring stepped a beautiful maiden with long, dark hair. She wore a white princess dress and carried a magic wand. (I did not really think it was magic. Just the unicorn.)
She tapped the unicorn with the pretend magic wand, and the unicorn bent down on one knee. It touched its horn to the ground. Then the ringmaster came out again.
“We are pleased to offer you the once-in-a-lifetime chance to ask our unicorn some questions,” he said. “As you know, a unicorn cannot lie. But you must keep your questions simple, with yes-or-no answers.”
I did not wait to raise my hand. I leaped up and shouted, “Are you real?”
The maiden looked at the unicorn. Then the unicorn nodded its head! It actually nodded up and down, to say yes!
I sat down and fanned myself with my program. Take that, Bobby Gianelli, I thought.
My Wishes
Several more people asked the unicorn questions. It answered yes or no by nodding or shaking its head. Then the beautiful maiden led it out of the ring, and the circus was over.
But not our field trip. Next we would go on our behind-the-scenes tour.
“Wasn’t that the most gigundoly beautiful thing you have ever seen?” I asked Hannie and Nancy.
“It was really pretty,” said Hannie.
“It looked very real,” said Nancy.
“I wonder how they got that horn to stick on,” said Natalie.
I sighed. Some people cannot believe what they see right in front of their very eyes.
We waited with Ms. Colman and our parent helpers until the ringmaster came to get us. He was very tall. He had a big mustache that twirled out to the sides.
“Welcome!” he said with a smile. “Are you ready for a close-up look at circus life?”
“Yes!” we shouted. And a close-up look at the unicorn, I thought.
The ringmaster took us out of the large tent and led us to a bunch of trucks and campers. I looked around for the unicorn, but I did not see it.
To tell you the truth, I was not too interested in the rest of the tour. I already knew a lot about circuses because I had gone to circus camp one summer. So I knew that the performers live in trailers, and that the circus kids have tutors and do not go to regular school.
I was about to burst when the ringmaster finally said, “And now, who wants to see our unicorn?”
“I do! I do!” I yelled, jumping up and down.
“Karen,” said Ms. Colman. She meant I had to mind my manners.
One of the smaller tents was a souvenir stand, where you could buy programs and toys and food and neat things. The other tent was just for the circus performers. It was where they changed costumes and rested between acts. One part of it was roped off. Several bales of hay made a low wall. And there, munching on some hay, was the unicorn.
Even without the spotlight and the glitter, it was very, very beautiful. It was not wearing its fancy show costume anymore. Its white coat gleamed. Its large brown eyes looked very smart and wise. It had “magic” written all over it.
When we got closer (we had to stay behind the rope), I felt as if I could hardly breathe. This was one of the very few unicorns anywhere in the world. Hardly anyone ever got to see one, and here I was, only a few feet away. I could not believe it.
The lovely maiden had changed into a blue running suit and put her long hair into a braid held with a rubber band. She stood next to the unicorn, with her hand on its back.
“The unicorn is so, so beautiful,” I said. “Is it a he?”
“Yes, he’s a boy,” said the trainer.
“Does he have a name?” I asked.
“He has a special, secret unicorn name,” said the trainer. “But we call him Bob.”
Bob did not seem like a very special name for one of the most magical creatures on earth, but I did not say so.
“How do you get the horn to stay on?” asked Bobby Gianelli loudly. “Superglue?”
The trainer smiled. “Look at how long and heavy his horn is,” she said. “Do you really think superglue would work?”
Bobby frowned. “Is it taped on?”
“Do you see any tape?” The trainer put out her hand and ruffled the unicorn’s mane with her fingers. There was no tape anywhere around the horn.
“See, Bobby?” I said. “He is real. You have to face facts.”
Bobby frowned harder. “He is not real. I know he is not.”
“Okay, everyone,” said Ms. Colman. “It is time to go now.”
Suddenly I remembered my wish list. I put my hand in my pocket and held my list, but I did not need to look at it. Quickly I whispered my wishes to myself, while I looked into the unicorn’s eyes. Neither of us blinked. As soon as I made my wishes, he lowered his head and took another bite of hay.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Do Not Worry
Before we got back on our school buses, Ms. Colman let us go to the souvenir tent for ten minutes. Nancy bought a photo album of the circus performers. Hannie bought a tiny flashlight with a clown’s face on it. Its red nose glowed when she turned it on. I bought a silver necklace with a small unicorn charm on it.
“I will wear this until all my wishes come true,” I said, fastening it around my neck.
“What wishes?” asked Hannie.
I told the other two Musketeers about my wish list. Hannie and Nancy looked at each other.
“Well, I really hope your wishes come true,” said Hannie politely.
“Me too,” said Nancy. “Let us know if we can help somehow.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But the unicorn will take care of everything.”
* * *
When I got home that afternoon, Mommy and Andrew were in the kitchen. Mommy fixed me a snack — a Rice Krispie treat and a glass of milk. Yum!
“I saw the unicorn today,” I said. “I saw him up close, and he was one hundred percent real.”
“Really? Gosh,” said Andrew. (His pre-school class was going to the circus the next day.)
“So I made all my wishes,” I went on. “I looked him right in the eyes and made my wishes. So I guess we do not have to worry anymore.”
“Goody,” said Andrew. “Did you wish about my bike riding?”
“Yes,” I said. “And about Seth’s workshop, and a few other things. I bet the unicorn will get started on the wishes right away. But it might take a little while. We will have to be patient.” I felt very grownup, saying that.
“Please do not get your hopes up, Karen,” said Mommy. “I am glad you had a good time at the circus. And I am glad you thought the unicorn looked real. But sometimes things are not what they seem.”
I munched on my Rice Krispie treat. I did not mind Mommy saying that to me. Mommies are supposed to say things like that. But I knew the unicorn was real, and that our troubles were over.
“May I be excused?” I asked. “I am finished.”
In my room, I thought about the unicorn. Probably a lot of people had made wishes today. The unicorn might have hundreds of wishes to grant. It might take him awhile to get to mine, I thought. I decided that I would try to help him along.
First I checked my letter box. It is a shoe box that I decorated. In it I keep all the letters I get. When I looked through it, I realized that Maxie had written me three months ago. I could not remember if I had written back so I pulled out a postcard and addressed it to her.
Then I stuck a stamp on it and put it by the front door to mail. I th
ought about another wish: to do well on my next math test. So I opened up my math book and did some practice problems.
I was glad that I was giving the unicorn a helping hand.
I was almost done when Andrew knocked on my door.
“Karen?” he called. “I am ready to ride the bike again. Can you help me?”
I closed my book and sat up. I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes for a second. I really hoped the unicorn had had a chance to work on the bike-riding wish.
Some Wishes Come True
“Hooray!” I cried. It was the next Thursday, and Ms. Colman had just handed back our math tests.
I showed Ricky my paper. “Only three wrong!”
“That is very good, Karen,” he said. “I missed five.” Ricky is a very nice pretend husband.
“Not only that,” I said, “but this was one of my unicorn wishes. My wishes are coming true!”
“Do not start about the unicorn,” said Ricky. “I asked my dad, and he said unicorns do not exist. My dad is never wrong.”
“He is wrong this time,” I said. “Because my wishes are coming true.”
“Like what else?” asked Natalie Springer. (She is another glasses-wearer. She sits on the other side of me.)
“Like my pen pal in New York called me last night,” I said proudly. “I wished for her to write me soon, but a phone call is even better. And that wish came true.”
I had been very glad to hear from Maxie. I love getting phone calls. Especially long-distance ones. They are very special. (Not long ago, I got into trouble for using the phone too much. But I am allowed to use it again now.)
“If the Circus DeMarco unicorn is real,” said Sara Ford, “where did they get it? Why isn’t it more famous? Why aren’t scientists studying it?”
“Yeah,” said Ian Johnson. “If it was practically the only unicorn in the world, it would be worth a lot of money. It would not be in a small circus. It would be in a big zoo.”