dressed in a white gown and white gauzy fairy wings, was handing out candy to little kids, some costumed and some dressed in everyday clothes. They danced around her like little butterflies drawn to a cluster of sweet-smelling flowers. Keelie enjoyed watching the kids, but that was as much interaction as she wanted to have with them.
Lulu had a unicorn puppet on her shoulder, one of the ones that was weighted to seem as if it were perched on her. She used a long, hidden wire to move its head. The little unicorn glittered in the sunlight. As if Lulu knew that Keelie was staring, the ivory-horned head twisted to look her way. It closed an eye in a slow-motion wink, then turned back to the children.
Keelie blinked, wondering if she had really seen that or if it were a trick of the light. The puppet lady was really talented—and the kids seemed to love her. She moved on, still surrounded by her little followers, except for one girl who, fairy wings askew, was staring off into space.
Keelie stepped aside to allow a family to walk by, and Lulu’s little unicorn turned its head again, its black button eyes staring sightlessly right at her. Okay, this was getting creepy. She wondered how Lulu did it. Maybe she could work at the puppet shop and find out. Anything would be better than being Plumpkin the dragon.
Sweat dripped down Keelie’s back; she’d worn a leotard and yoga pants to keep her body from touching Plumpkin’s fuzzy insides. Irritating globs of glitter from the scales had drifted down inside her bra, and she itched. She couldn’t scratch. A huge crowd had gathered outside the gates, and it was still thirty minutes before the opening trumpets. Keelie rolled her eyes. They should go get a life, a latte, something.
Several little girls in pink tutus, pink leotards, and tie-dyed fairy wings rushed toward Lulu, almost knocking Keelie over.
She was desperate to scratch. Even though Zeke (she was still mad at him), Finch, and several other Faire employees had reassured her over and over that there were no lice inside the suit, Keelie wasn’t convinced.
This could be her last day on earth. She might die from itching combined with claustrophobia. She could see only through the mesh in the dragon’s mouth. She certainly wouldn’t die from hunger, because the vomit smell had permanently eradicated her appetite. She’d never eat again. She’d have anorexia, and it would be Zeke’s fault. If he’d let her withdraw her inheritance money to pay for the custom-made boots, then she could be helping him at the shop. She hoped he was swamped with customers today.
She turned her back to a skinny maple tree and rubbed up and down, using the zipper’s hard edge to quell the itch at her shoulder blade. It felt so good she almost moaned; then she stopped, horrified. She was acting like Knot. Something was squashed up inside the suit, under her right foot. She wiggled her toes against it. A cloth something.
A group of mothers talked in the shade of a tree, surrounded by a herd of small children and babies in strollers.
A little boy dressed in black plastic armor stared at her and shouted, “I’m going to kill you, mean dragon.”
Keelie had been instructed by Finch to make exaggerated gestures, like a cartoon character, when engaging with obnoxious kids. They loved it, as did the parents. Keelie stepped back and held her hands up as if she were afraid.
Plumpkin was a wuss!
With the mood she was in, if Keelie had been a real dragon, she’d roast the kid. A man dressed in beggar’s rags stumbled toward her. He smiled.
Ew! Those cavities in his front teeth didn’t seem fake. “Hello, Dragon.”
Keelie sidled away. He followed her.
“Dragon, wait up.”
Keelie stopped and turned around, and put her claws on her waist and tapped her foot, the one with the cloth wadded up in it.
The beggar came closer. “I’m Vernerd the beggar. Just wanted to ask if you might have found any personal items inside the
Lulu had a unicorn puppet on her shoulder, one of the ones that was weighted to seem as if it were perched on her. She used a long, hidden wire to move its head. The little unicorn glittered in the sunlight. As if Lulu knew that Keelie was staring, the ivory-horned head twisted to look her way. It closed an eye in a slow-motion wink, then turned back to the children.
Keelie blinked, wondering if she had really seen that or if it were a trick of the light. The puppet lady was really talented—and the kids seemed to love her. She moved on, still surrounded by her little followers, except for one girl who, fairy wings askew, was staring off into space.
Keelie stepped aside to allow a family to walk by, and Lulu’s little unicorn turned its head again, its black button eyes staring sightlessly right at her. Okay, this was getting creepy. She wondered how Lulu did it. Maybe she could work at the puppet shop and find out. Anything would be better than being Plumpkin the dragon.
Sweat dripped down Keelie’s back; she’d worn a leotard and yoga pants to keep her body from touching Plumpkin’s fuzzy insides. Irritating globs of glitter from the scales had drifted down inside her bra, and she itched. She couldn’t scratch. A huge crowd had gathered outside the gates, and it was still thirty minutes before the opening trumpets. Keelie rolled her eyes. They should go get a life, a latte, something.
Several little girls in pink tutus, pink leotards, and tie-dyed fairy wings rushed toward Lulu, almost knocking Keelie over.
She was desperate to scratch. Even though Zeke (she was still mad at him), Finch, and several other Faire employees had reassured her over and over that there were no lice inside the suit, Keelie wasn’t convinced.
This could be her last day on earth. She might die from itching combined with claustrophobia. She could see only through the mesh in the dragon’s mouth. She certainly wouldn’t die from hunger, because the vomit smell had permanently eradicated her appetite. She’d never eat again. She’d have anorexia, and it would be Zeke’s fault. If he’d let her withdraw her inheritance money to pay for the custom-made boots, then she could be helping him at the shop. She hoped he was swamped with customers today.
She turned her back to a skinny maple tree and rubbed up and down, using the zipper’s hard edge to quell the itch at her shoulder blade. It felt so good she almost moaned; then she stopped, horrified. She was acting like Knot. Something was squashed up inside the suit, under her right foot. She wiggled her toes against it. A cloth something.
A group of mothers talked in the shade of a tree, surrounded by a herd of small children and babies in strollers.
A little boy dressed in black plastic armor stared at her and shouted, “I’m going to kill you, mean dragon.”
Keelie had been instructed by Finch to make exaggerated gestures, like a cartoon character, when engaging with obnoxious kids. They loved it, as did the parents. Keelie stepped back and held her hands up as if she were afraid.
Plumpkin was a wuss!
With the mood she was in, if Keelie had been a real dragon, she’d roast the kid. A man dressed in beggar’s rags stumbled toward her. He smiled.
Ew! Those cavities in his front teeth didn’t seem fake. “Hello, Dragon.”
Keelie sidled away. He followed her.
“Dragon, wait up.”
Keelie stopped and turned around, and put her claws on her waist and tapped her foot, the one with the cloth wadded up in it.
The beggar came closer. “I’m Vernerd the beggar. Just wanted to ask if you might have found any personal items inside the
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