At eleven-twenty A.M. on Saturday, Zhan was pinning my hair tightly against my head. “Sorry I didn’t ask Menessos about letting you go home.”
“My request wasn’t the dominant thing on my mind last night either.”
Zhan slipped the last bobby pin into place and declared me ready for step two of my disguise. I tugged the blond wig on.
One look in the mirror proved that everyone would recognize the cheap flesh-colored cap that formed the base of the wig. No one would ever be deceived by this disguise. “This is going to be a problem.”
“Give me one minute,” Zhan said. She left the bathroom, hurried down the stairs. She came back with a black knit hat that had a skull with wings silkscreened on it in white. I recognized it as matching a shirt Johnny had recently bought; he’d left the hat on one of the coat hooks at the back door. Zhan put it on me. “No fake roots.”
I had on a nice blouse under one of Nana’s sweater cardigans, dress pants, and loafers. When Johnny had seen my attire—before rushing off to a band rehearsal and strategizing session—he’d proclaimed me frumpy and said he’d be worried about me if he didn’t know I was trying not to be recognized by the witch-hating-parent-patrol.
The knit hat was totally wrong for the look I was trying to achieve. “I’m trying to be the socially acceptable niece today.”
Zhan thought about it. “Unless you have a flowered chapeau, you’ll have to change your role. Come with me.” I followed her across the hall. She sorted through my closet. “Wear this and your flannel.” She held up a thick pullover hooded sweatshirt with a pocket in front. “Add jeans and your hikers and you’ll be more comfortable. Instead of being the snooty blond niece—which is conspicuous and more likely to get you busted anyway—you can be the farm-girl unicorn trainer. Mountain won’t mind.”
“What if Errol minds?” All the animals knew Mountain better than me.
“Mountain will still be there, as backup.”
Her idea was good enough that I probably wouldn’t have argued, but I didn’t get a chance anyway. Nana shouted up the stairs to announce that the ponies had arrived.
Beverley burst from her room. “Ponies?”
The six rented half-size equines were unloaded from their trailer, saddled, and ready to go.
The owner, Mr. Purdy, could have easily won the casting call for an aging carnie in his Carhartt jacket, dirty jeans, and a ball cap with “Ford” scripted on it. He was all angles and his Adam’s apple jutted. He spat tobacco juice on the ground as I approached him.
“You Ms. Alcmedi?” he asked.
“No, I’m Red. Red Newman. Family friend. Ms. Alcmedi isn’t here.”
“Oh.” He scratched at the three days’ worth of stubble on his cheek. “Who’s payin’ me, then?”
I took an envelope from the hoodie’s pocket. “They told me to give you this.”
He opened it and counted it—twice—then folded it and shoved the envelope into his back pocket. “Thank you. I need to walk the route in the yard now, to make sure we’re all good.”
“Fine. I’ll walk with you?”
“No need.”
“Actually, there is.”
He stopped, spat again, and his wrinkles deepened. “We’re not staying longer than an hour. That’s what I agreed to. That’s my rate.”
“Nothing like that is changing. As I said, I’m a family friend and, well, the birthday girl wanted a unicorn ride so … a friend of mine and I devised an attachment—”
“You ain’t putting nothing on my ponies. And I ain’t got no all-white one, neither.”
“I own a young white stallion. We fitted it for him. I just wanted to let you know that we’d like Beverley to lead the pony parade, and I’ll handle the horse.”
He squinted at me, wrinkling his sun-dried face even more. “Does your young stallion have a fiery temper?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“What breed is he?”
“A mix,” I said. I didn’t know enough about horses to answer.
“I hope he doesn’t have any Lipizzaner in him. I hear they’re mighty feisty. Don’t want no horse getting aggressive toward my ponies.” He pointed at a little black one tied to a bar on the side of the horse trailer. It was the same size Johnny was when in wolf form. But this animal lacked the pointy teeth and the snarl. “My Smokey Bear there, he’s a stud. Might set your stallion off if he’s picky like that.”
“I don’t see that being a problem, sir.”
“Better not. Any other interruptions you plan to insert on my regular routine?”
“Nope.”
“Then let me walk the yard and make sure there’s no holes that could injure my livestock— or yours.”
I got out of his way just as the first of the guests arrived.
We’d invited twenty-six kids and parents, everyone in the class. Six showed up—four girls, two boys. Celia was here as well; Johnny was still at band rehearsal. Mr. Purdy’s sourness aside, the guests seemed to be in a happy, festive mood and we had just enough ponies for every child.
Beverley, Nana, and Zhan came outside and the kids gathered to pet the ponies. Celia stayed with Nana and Zhan and helped to greet everyone while I hung back at the horse trailer.
Mr. Purdy noticed. “Why aren’t you with the others?”
Thinking too long about what to say, I decided to try for embarrassment as I admitted, “Large groups of people make me nervous.”
When it was time, Mr. Purdy called the kids together. “Now, either you can all pick a pony to ride, or you can draw numbers out of my hat. If there’s gonna be an argument about who rides what pony, we’ll definitely draw numbers. Can you pick for yourselves and be satisfied?”
He was so awkward and rough that the kids simply nodded. Lily ended up with Smokey Bear. I only knew Lily’s name because Beverley called it a few times. I was glad she had come; she was the girl who’d first befriended Beverley.
Mr. Purdy had each parent set their child onto a saddle, then hold the reins until he got the ponies lined up like he wanted them. “And I hear the birthday girl has a special ride for the day.” He gave me a nod, and I jogged to the back where Mountain was waiting with Errol.
The unicorn had deigned to wear a purple halter, and a matching lead rope was attached. It matched the ribbons Beverley had put in his mane and tail perfectly. Mountain had tied some twine around the base of the spiraled horn, covered it with the curly forelock, and then wound the twine under the unicorn’s jowls to give the impression of it being fake.
Together, we led Errol around front.
It was like he knew he was on stage. He strutted around the house, neck arched, lifting his legs high and showing off. Beverley couldn’t contain herself. She ran toward us. Errol did his elegant bow again and Mountain helped her onto the unicorn’s back. Parents applauded.
The ponies raised their heads high, too. Errol’s beauty and charisma captivated everyone. Smokey Bear and the other ponies pranced around the yard following him—no encouragement needed.
When the time was up, Nana took over and called for everyone to come inside and wash up for “cold cuts and chips to be followed by cake and ice cream.” Mountain lifted Beverley down; she hugged Errol and ran inside with her friends. We petted and praised the unicorn for being such a show stealer.
Mr. Purdy drew near us, intent on the unicorn. He jerked his bill cap off and scratched his head. “In ten years, I’ve never seen my ponies prance like that.”
“They just need a little inspiration, I guess.”
“Would you sell me that horse?”
“Sorry, Mr. Purdy.”
“How’d you make that horn?” He reached up as if to analyze how we’d attached it.
Mountain cleared his throat. “Check eBay for antlers or movie props.”
Mr. Purdy spat, resettled his ball cap, and said, “If you had a half-dozen white horses, all with those horns, you’d make a killin’ doin’ the county fair circuit. If you weren’t bothered by large groups of people, that is.” He walked away.
“No doubt.” Mountain scratched under Errol’s chin. “But I’m not sure your back is meant for anyone but Beverley.”
Errol nickered and bobbed his head. I was sure he was agreeing.
“How’s Thunderbird?”
Mountain glanced toward the barns. “My truck arrived last evening; had a side of beef in it. The griffons let him have first dibs. He ate lightly, then one of the others brought in a deer leg after dusk, offered it to him, and he ate that, too.” He absently plucked at Errol’s mane. “I’m trying to figure out why the others treat him differently. Sometimes I think it’s his injury, sometimes I’m not sure that’s it.” He paused. “Zhan tells me you want her to take a few of the phoenixes to her family in California.”
“If it will make things better for her, absolutely.”
“She said her folks lived on a small farm north of San Francisco. Her mother grows Chinese medicinal herbs.”
“Sounds like they could easily house and care for some unusual poultry.”
Mountain smiled at my description. “But how do we get them there?”
“Would they prefer a private jet or to go in some type of wheeled vehicle?”
“Not sure.”
“Well, when you figure that part out, I’m sure Menessos can handle the rest.”
When the party was over and everyone was gone except Celia, it was safe for me to go inside. Ares trotted out to greet me and thumped my leg with his tail all the way down the hall. As I walked toward the kitchen I jerked the hot wig and hat combo from my head, loosed the bobby pins, and finger-combed my hair.
Only Beverley was missing from those gathered at the table. “Where’s the guest of honor? The party was a success, yes?”
“Yes. She’s upstairs packing an overnight bag,” Nana said.
“She’s going to stay with me until Monday morning,” Celia added quickly. “I’ll see her to the bus.”
Noting my confusion, Nana clarified. “I’ve decided that I’m going to Pittsburgh with you. I have some words of my own for Eris.”
A road trip with Nana? Thank the Goddess Pittsburgh is only two and a half hours away.