What I Wore to Save the World

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!”

Finnbar took hold of the podium microphone and announced in a solemn voice, “All right, time for the election! First we register eligible voters, ballots will be distributed, filled out in number two pencil, then sealed and transported in armored cars to the offices of Price Waterhouse . . .” He paused and saw the enough, already look on my face. “Never mind, we don’t have time for all that. If you’re here you can vote! How about a show of hands? All in favor of Queen Titania staying queen, raise your hands!”

About half the hands I could see went up. To my eye it seemed that Titania easily took the gargoyle vote, and most of the trolls. But there were literally thousands of votes to count.

Finnbar was overwhelmed. “I’m going to need a little help, please,” he cried. Obligingly, the swarm of fireflies appeared from nowhere and whizzed around the crowd, counting. Then they formed a blinking numerical scoreboard directly over our heads.

Finnbar waited until the figures stopped tabulating. He whistled in admiration at the total. “What a big number! That’s going to be hard to beat. All right—now raise your hand if you want Morganne to take over as queen!”

More hands went up. I seemed to have strong support among the pixies, humans and elves. The leprechauns looked evenly split. The fireflies scattered and re-formed, new numbers flickering until the tally was final.

“I win, I win!” Titania danced around, waving her pirate sword in victory. “What will I wear to the coronation? Must go shopping, must go shopping—”

From the back of the press pool I heard Anderson Cooper’s steady voice: “Election still too close to call; more voters are arriving at the polls, stay tuned for updates—”

As it got closer the sound grew more distinct. It was the sound of hooves, rhythmically pounding the earth. In the nearby hills I saw a mass of dust racing along the ground toward us, shot through with flashes of light and the glint of silver.

The unicorns were here! They leaped from the hillsides onto the boardwalk and then to the piazza. The crowd parted and the beautiful animals galloped through. They were led by Epona. Her silvery tail waved behind her proudly, like a flag of liquid metal.

“Bloody hell,” he cried, as he slipped off her back and nearly fell to the ground. “That’s a bit different than riding a bike, I’ll tell ye that much.” He gave me a shaky grin and almost lost his balance again. Epona nimbly blocked his fall with her horn.

A moment later, Grandpap trotted up on another unicorn. He was his real age again but looked as hearty and vigorous as I’d ever seen him. Unlike Colin, he was perfectly comfortable on horseback.

“Whee!” He jumped confidently to the ground. “Haven’t had a good gallop like that in years! Makes a fella feel young all over again.” He gave me a broad wink.

I’d never been so glad to see anyone as I was to see these two. I threw my arms around Colin. “How did you know to come?”

“Are ye kiddin’, lass?” Grandpap gave his mount a hearty muzzle-rub, which the unicorn seemed to appreciate. “Yer famous! This election business is all over the telly. We would’ve got here sooner but we were lollygagging on the farm; the news got to us a wee bit late.”

Colin gave me a wry look. “Ye were right about the surprise, Mor. Though it was a happy one, once I picked me jaw up off the floor. But it was surely good to see Granny—well, Nan, again.”

“Aye, that it was.” Grandpap’s voice was full of emotion. “Lucky these fine ponies here came by and picked us up, or we’d still be walkin’. But enough jibber jabber, we’re here for the votin’. Where do I put me mark?”

“No, they’re not,” Finnbar said, hands fluttering nervously. “We haven’t declared a winner yet.”

“I do too.” There was an unmistakable glow shining in Colin’s eyes. “I know this girl as well as I know anyone, and I know ye could have no finer queen than she’ll be.”

Titania howled with contempt. “‘Knows her well’? Please! He didn’t even find out she was part goddess until today!”

“That’s not entirely true,” Colin said firmly. “I may not have understood it, but I always knew there was something special—something magical—about Morgan. Ye’d have to be blind not to see it.”

He took both of my hands in his own. “What a stubborn-headed fool I’ve been, Mor. When I think of what ye must’ve gone through, having to keep such a big secret from everyone—even from me—just so as not to upset the world the way this selfish biddy seems eager to do. That takes a kind of courage that few people have.”

“His grandmother talked some sense into him,” Grandpap said to me as an aside. “Told him some of the old stories about the half-goddess Morganne too. Shoulda seen the look on his mug!”

Colin turned to the crowd. “The truth is, Morgan Rawlinson’s always been a goddess in my eyes. And I’d be proud and happy to see her as Queen of the Faeries.”

It may not have been very queenly, but I couldn’t help it. I jumped up and kissed him, right on the lips. The fireflies obligingly formed themselves into a blinking heart shape encircling our heads, which made us laugh so hard we had to stop smooching.

“Don’t look so happy, chickie,” Titania snarled. “Even with these two highly questionable votes counted, it’s still a tie. And I’m already queen, so in case of a tie I win. That’s a rule.”

“Really? I don’t recall seeing that in the Book of Horns.” Finnbar hoisted the book into his arms and ruffled through the pages in a panic.

“Ha! The unicorn vote has already been counted! Now, about my coronation . . .” Titania’s evil chuckle was the only sound to be heard.

Colin held out his strong, reassuring hands. “No worries, pal. I’ll hold this tome while ye cast yer ballot. It’s yer right and yer duty, as a citizen.”

Trembling from head to foot, Finnbar handed the book to Colin. He looked at me, and then at Titania. All the television cameras were trained on him. A dozen microphones were suddenly in front of his face.

“Oh my!” He giggled nervously. “I feel very, very important right now. I feel like what I say next will actually make a difference in the world. Like humble, ordinary me has the power to affect the course of history!”

He stopped shaking, and his voice gained strength. “In fact, I feel so important that I’m not scared anymore. And since I’m not scared anymore, I cast my vote for—” He paused for effect, then pointed at me. “Morganne! Let’s hear it for Queen Morganne!”

“Nooooooooo!” Titania screeched, before the crowd could react. “Look at him! He’s not old enough to vote! His vote doesn’t count.”

My supporters took up the cry. Finnbar tapped his chin thoughtfully, but now there was a gleam of mischief in his eye. “Hmmm. If you’re going to judge solely by appearances, then Mother dear does have a point. But that problem is easily fixed.”

And then, right before our eyes, Finnbar changed. First he made himself younger, until he was about Tammy’s age.

the crowd finally got to go wild. there was cheering, yelling, more firefly pyrotechnics, and revved-up unicorns doing a victory wave with their light-up horns. But all I could do was stare at Mr. Phineas—I mean Mr. Finnbar—oh, phek it—Phinnbar!

“You?” I still couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking that shiny bald head surrounded by wild gray frizz. Even the ear hair was visible.

He chuckled. “You have to admit it was very clever, that bit with the ‘check your e-mail at 8 P.M., follow instructions exactly!’ Ha-ha! But I did so want you to come for a visit! It’d been ages since we’d seen each other!”

Only then did I notice that Colin and Grandpap were staring at Phinnbar too—Colin in amazement, Grandpap with a look of fond recognition.

“They’re all me, Colin, old pal.” Phinnbar grinned, revealing his yellow teeth. “Don’t you remember me?”

“Bloody hell!” Colin cried. “Of course I remember ye! Ye’re Finn; ye were my imaginary friend when I was just a wee boy-o. And then I went to school and I told ye to be gone, because I was too old for such babyish ways.” I could swear Colin was blushing now. He stuck out his hand to Phinnbar. “What a rude dolt I was. I feel like I owe ye an apology, there, Finn.”

Phinnbar took Colin’s hand graciously. “No need. It happens all the time with you mortals. And as you see, old friends never disappear for good.”

“He used to come visit me and Nan too, after ye were grown,” Grandpap added, crossing his arms. “She made him cups o’ tea; oh, he’d tell us marvelous stories, marvelous! We always enjoyed yer visits immensely, Finnsie. Do ye know, it was Finnsie’s idea for me to come back to Wales on me anniversary to begin with! Ye stopped by the house just last week, didn’t ye? We had a long chat about it. Ye stuck the idea in my head like gum to the bottom of a chair.”

“Ye daft old thing, why the bloody hell didn’t ye tell me that a faery told ye to come here?” Colin sputtered. “I gave up a weeks’ work for it, ye know!”

“Didn’t tell ye?” Grandpap cuffed him on the side of the head. “How many times did we tell ye about the wee folk livin’ in the fields and the forests? And did ye ever stop mockin’ us long enough to listen?”

“Ye wouldn’t believe in him, a faery lad ye’d seen with yer own eyes,” Grandpap jerked his head toward Phinnbar, “but ye have no trouble believin’ in them bloody Gloogles and Internets, and I defy ye to show me where those thingamabubs live. So which one of us is daft, then, tell me that?”

“Don’t any of you want to change your vote?” she whimpered. “Just a few people, that’s all it would take. Anyone? It would really cheer me up!” But now that Titania was powerless her former supporters seemed to have evaporated.

She clambered to her feet and went over to Grandpap. “How about you, you adorable old man, you?” she pleaded. “Surely you can appreciate how the charms of experience deserve to triumph over the callowness of youth?”

“Sorry dear, but I’ve met yer type before, when I was in the service,” Grandpap said, not unkindly. “Morgan’s got my vote. I’ll have none of ye, thanks.”

An evil shadow crossed her face, which she quickly covered with a phony smile. “But if I’m queen again, I can make it so you can live on that adorable little farm forever, frozen in time with your charming deceased bride, back when she wasn’t so deceased,” she cooed. “There’s no need to be old and lonely, is there?”

Grandpap hesitated, and my heart crawled halfway into my throat. Finally he spoke. “No thanks, lady. I’ll be buyin’ the farm on me own steam, soon enough. Though I must say, it was a glorious anniversary—well worth the trip.” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but it looked like there was an actual twinkle in Grandpap’s eye.

I’d forgotten all about the poor enchanted architect. The ice had melted and now he was standing in a puddle, shivering and sneezing. I handed him a crumpled but mostly clean tissue from the pocket of my jeans. “Bless you, Mr. McAlister. Maybe we should get you a blanket or something.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty!” Before I could say another word, a team of elves dressed like medics had wrapped Mr. McAlister in foil blankets, like he’d just finished running a marathon. A winged pixie, looking like Tinker Bell in a nurse’s uniform, fluttered around his head and spooned hot cocoa into his mouth. He gave me a thumbs-up and talked between spoonfuls.

“Congratulations, Morgan dear—yum! Not enchanted”—mmmm—“anymore! Sorry for my”—slurp—“embarrassing remarks earlier, I don’t know what got into me. More marshmallows, please!”

Phinnbar now held a clipboard and was busy ticking items off a list. “Throwing a coronation on such short notice, tsk tsk! But I’ll do my best. Your Majesty?”

“Will you be bringing a royal consort to the coronation? I’m trying to do a seating chart.” He tapped his pencil on the clipboard. “For dinner we have beef, chicken and vegetarian options.”

“I’ll be her date. If she’ll have me, that is.” Colin put his arm around my waist. “And chicken suits me fine.”

I turned and slid my arms around his neck. “One chicken, one vegetarian,” I said, as romantically as I could.

Phinnbar clucked his tongue and made marks on the clipboard. Colin held me tightly. “My girlfriend, the half-goddess,” he murmured. “And now ye’re Queen of the Faeries! Ye must have had some wild adventures. I want to hear all about ’em. If ye choose to tell me, o’ course.”

“No more secrets,” I whispered in his ear. “Hey, would you like to know why you were so sleepy when you came to Connecticut? There was this enchantment, see, and—”

“At the moment I’m just curious about what it’d be like to kiss royalty,” he said, cutting me off. “But if that’s classified information I’ll completely understand.”

“Classified . . . ?” I was going to make some kind of wisecrack but somehow we were already too busy locking lips for that.

“Ahem! Your Majesty? Royal Consort? Enough with the tonsil hockey.” Phinnbar clicked his heels together offi ciously. “It’s time for your coronation!”

Colin and I slowly floated back to earth. I looked down at my grubby jeans and T-shirt. Colin’s outfit wasn’t much better, plus his pants were covered with unicorn hair.

“I feel like a slob,” I confessed to Phinnbar. “My first coronation, and I’m a total fashion disaster.”

“No worries, Your Eminence! We have people to take care of this kind of thing. Bring on the royal stylists!” No sooner did he say it than luxurious scarlet robes were draped around our shoulders. Somebody did something fancy with my hair, and a golden crown was placed on my head. And a handsome medal reading “Royally Excellent Boyfriend” was pinned to Colin’s robe.

“I feel like the bloody prom king now,” Colin cracked. I made sure to hang my locket on the outside of the robe, where everyone could see it. Grandpap looked ready to burst with pride.

“Spectacular!” Phinnbar declared. “Now, it’s been so long since the last coronation, nobody really remembers what the ceremony is supposed to include. Even the Book of Horns is vague on the subject; it merely says that ‘appropri ate revels should ensue.’ But the unicorns have offered to do a little something, and in the absence of any other entertainment I say let’s go with it.” He pointed. “Cue unicorns!”

The unicorns proceeded to perform the halftime coronation show to end all halftime coronation shows. Formation gallops, synchronized leaping, gymnastic tricks and elaborate unicorn pyramids. They ended by spelling out LONG LIVE QUEEN MORGAN(NE) with their twinkling horns, as the fireflies provided a laser light-style display overhead and the sea of onlookers cheered.

“They’re bloody fantastic,” Colin whispered to me. “Beijing Olympics pales in comparison. So much better to see these large-scale spectacles in person too, the television cameras can never really do ’em justice.”

I looked around the piazza. The cameras were still rolling, filming the festivities. Reporters wandered everywhere, gathering on-the-spot reaction from spectators and blathering all the usual self-evident commentary into their microphones.

He looked at me like I was dense. “Everywhere, of course! It’s the biggest news story ever, practically. According to the latest Nielsen data, ratings are through the roof.”

“Especially Connecticut!” he crowed. “I mean, how often does their very own hometown girl get elected queen?”