All’s Well That Ends Well…And With A Dance Party
Josh stared at the podium in surprise. Standing there, addressing the crowd, was the Imagine Nation President, who he knew better as a pop music mega-star. She said, “For service above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby grant the Medal of Guts, the highest honor the Imagine Nation can bestow, upon those you see here today. Gentlemen, a grateful Imagine Nation thanks you.”
The assembled crowd roared its approval. The president, looking stately in her dress of raw bacon, white roses, and live gerbils, moved along the line from Steve to Larry to Aiden (who looked nauseous and wrinkled his nose as she passed) to Josh, placing a large silver medal around each of their necks.
With the award presentation over, the crowd wasted no time vacating the ceremony hall and moving to the reception hall, where an elaborate and expensive buffet waited for them.
“Honestly,” said Josh, gazing at the president. He recognized her from the music videos his mom didn’t know he watched. “I had no idea she was part of the Imaginary World.”
Larry chuckled. “Well, with a name like Duchess DeeDee, are you really all that surprised?”
* * * *
Those seated at the Table of Highest Honor sat back in their chairs, stuffed full of the most delicious food any of them had ever eaten.
“That buffet put me to shame, even with my full powers restored!” Mrs. F-G said with a smile. “That Tricia Jane sure knows how to cook!”
“Don’t worry about it, Ann,” Larry assured her while licking the last of the au jus from his fingers. “The Imagine Nation has a whole staff of food oracles at their disposal. TJ may be the Head Food Oracle, but she has tons of help, especially for grand occasions like this.”
“Must be nice,” Steve said, yawning and stretching his arms above his head.
“What’s a food barnacle?” Rosemary asked as she took one last bite of her pink, glittery mini-cupcake.
“A food oracle, dummy,” Josh corrected his sister. “It’s what Mrs. F-G does. You know, making exactly the kind of food you want exactly when you want it. It’s a special power.”
“Aiden, Josh called me a dummy!” Rosemary whined at Aiden, who was busy chatting with Siegfried and had missed the insult.
“Josh, I think medal-winners are too mature for name-calling,” Aiden said.
“Well, I for one think you’re looking particularly mature this evening, Josh,” Cleo said, smiling at him. “Love the tie!” This wasn’t too surprising, since the tie had been a thank-you gift from Cleo for Josh’s role in restoring her powers.
At that moment, everyone’s attention was drawn to the president, who had reentered the reception hall after a costume change. Her admirers “ooohed” and “aaahed” at the latest ensemble.
With a gasp of delight, Rosemary jumped from her chair and ran over to the president. “I just love your sparkly metal bikini!” she gushed.
“Thank you,” Madame President answered, beaming. “It’s chain-mail made in the traditional Celtic method.”
“I have no idea what that means, but it’s super pretty!” Rosemary replied. “Wanna have a dance party?”
The president’s smile became, if possible, even wider. She grabbed a microphone from her nearest assistant and led Rosemary up onto the small stage at the head of the ballroom.
“My little monsters!” Madame President announced into the microphone. “I invite you to join me in a celebratory dance ritual!”
With a wave of her hand, the lights lowered, and the music began to pulse, coming from unseen speakers, or perhaps from no speakers at all. It was the president’s latest single, and she started doing the choreographed routine.
Rosemary followed along as best she could, a huge smile on her face. “Larry! Steve! Aiden!” she called toward the Honor Table, which was closest to the stage. “Come on!”
Larry took Rosemary up on this suggestion, offering an arm each to Cleo and Ann, and leading them up onstage with him. Aiden, Steve, and Josh looked at each other uncomfortably. Siegfried glared at a fixed spot on the opposite wall, pretending not to notice the sudden rush of people jumping from their chairs and dancing on the spot.
“Come on, Steve!” Rosemary called again. “I know you can dance!”
“She does have a point,” Steve said with an embarrassed little grin, getting up and joining the group onstage.
Josh watched Steve climb the steps and join in the dance, his arms and torso staying stationary while his feet moved so fast that they were almost a blur. Josh’s eyes shifted over to Siegfried and waited until it looked like his attention was elsewhere.
“So, um, Aiden,” said Josh, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Why are you letting Steve get away with it?”
“Get away with what?”
Josh gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Well, let’s see. Not only did he direct Mr. Midnight to his targets, but he lured you into a trap with ginormous snakes. And then he gets a medal for all that.”
“Oh, yeah. All that.”
“Yeah. All that.”
Aiden looked rather uncertain as he said, “Well, he did save the day in the end. And I talked with everyone involved, and they didn’t see the harm in keeping certain parts of the story quiet.” He grinned and added, “Plus, as part of his penance, he’ll be providing the light show for all of Larry’s parties for the next two hundred years, so I don’t know if I’d say he got away clean.”
Josh shook his head. “I’m serious, Aiden.”
The grin faded and Aiden replied, “I know. Me, too. You see, it’s complicated. The thing is, he’s my friend. I feel like I need to protect him. And I feel responsible, like Larry and I unintentionally pushed him into doing what he did. And I feel indebted that he was there for us in the end, when it mattered most. And I think—”
“I think I get it.”
Aiden fixed Josh with a stare. “You do? I’m not sure I do.”
With another look at Steve dancing, he said, “You’re just doing what you think is right.”
Aiden smiled. “Well, what do you think? We’ve fought giant snakes, climbed a world-famous bridge, and defeated one heck of a bad guy. Think we can brave public humiliation?”
Josh grinned. “Why not?”
Climbing up onto the stage with their friends, Josh and Aiden danced.
* * * *
Smiling at the revelry around her, Mab the Fairy Queen took flight in the tiny chariot that had been parked on the president’s table. She had enjoyed the evening’s festivities thus far, but had an important mission to attend to, something she promised the president that she would see to personally.
Her chariot speeding along at an almost incomprehensible pace, Queen Mab flew the thousands of miles from New York City to the island of Atlantis in mere minutes. Queen Stelo, as Mab had expected, was awaiting her arrival in the white marble throne room with its many tall windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
“What news have you, my old friend?” Stelo asked, once Mab landed on the arm of her ornately carved, plush, golden gilt throne.
“Madame President sends you her warmest housewarming wishes and hopes that you and your brethren are at peace here on this island paradise.”
“Meaning that she sent you to spy on us?”
“Something like that.”
Stelo sighed. “It certainly is a lovely place, much more beautiful and comfortable than any isle we have been on for centuries. And it is, indeed, a comfort to know that the island is magically hidden so as to repel those who might otherwise stumble across it unawares.”
“Yes,” Mab agreed. “And the gardens are quite lovely, I noticed as I flew in.”
“Indeed,” Stelo said. “And beyond the gardens, there is much of the wild green growth that we hold so dear.”
“How lovely!” Mab enthused in her tiny little fairy voice.
“And yet…” Stelo said, her soft voice trailing off.
“Yes?” Mab urged.
“It is still an island, a prison,” Stelo said. “We are still not truly free.”
“After what Markus has done,” Mab said, “can you blame them for their precautions?”
“No, I cannot. But we still dream of freedom.”
Mab nodded, at a loss for words.
“And speaking of Markus…” Stelo prodded.
“Yes,” Mab said. “About that. I am afraid…the news is not so good. There has been no sign of him. I’m afraid he is lost to you. I am very sorry for your loss, my friend.”
Stelo’s head tilted to the side, and she looked skyward. “No, I feel his existence. He is out there, somewhere, continuing the mission I gave him. Markus will free us. The son of Mira will see that he does.”