“I gave her a bone—the best one I’ve ever buried. She threw it away!”
“What did you do?” I ask.
Frump shrugs. “I fetched.”
I start pacing. “The problem is that Seraphima always sees me as the conquering hero, when she needs to look atyouthat way. Which means, my friend, that you need a damsel in distress.” Several unicorns whinny as I pass by too closely. “That’s it.” I snap my fingers. “I’m going to die.”
“What?”
“Not for real. Just pretend. Then you can rescue me in front of Seraphima.”
“Ollie, no offense, but you makea really ugly princess. And I’m not going to kiss you to wake you up from your fake sleep, no matter what.”
“You don’t have to, Frump. We’re going to pretend I’ve been gored by a unicorn. All you have to do is stop the fake bleeding.” I bend down in front of a sugarberry bush and grab a handful of the fruit.
Frump looks anxiously off in the distance. “Could you maybe pick berriesafterward? She’s going to be here any minute.”
“I’m not going to eat them,” I mutter, mashing the berries between my hands. They are a red, runny mess. Opening my tunic so that my white shirt shows through, I smear the berry juice into the fabric. A red stain bleeds from the center of my chest.
“There’s just one problem,” Frump says. “No one’s ever been gored by a unicorn. They’re the sweetest creatures in the book.”
“Well… maybe I made one really angry,” I suggest. I lie down with my head against a boulder and cover my fake wound with my hand.
Frump is turning in nervous circles. “It’s not going to work, Oliver. She’s going to figure it out. I can’t act….”
“Are you kidding me? You act like a dog every day. Surely this has to be easier.”
Suddenly we hear a high, off-key tune floating over the meadow. The unicorns bleat and scatter. “Oh, Oliver…”Seraphima trills. “Are we playing hide-and-seek, my darling?”
“Oh, that’s good, that’s really good,” Frump whispers, glancing at my face. “You look really sick.”
“Focus,” I hiss. “Fr… ump…” I gasp. “Help me…”
Seraphima races across the field, but when she sees me fallen and bloody, she shrieks. “Oliver!”
Frump leaps onto my chest. “Hang in there, my friend,” he says. He turns to Seraphima. “One of the unicorns went berserk. Oliver’s lost a great deal of blood.” Frump presses his paw down in the center of the wound. “Take off my collar,” he orders.
“I beg your pardon!”
“For a tourniquet,” Frump says.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Seraphima stare at Frump in a way I’ve never seen her look at him. But it’s not adoration I’m seeing.
It’s competition.
She lifts him up with two hands and hurls him off my body. “Out of my way, puppy,” she grunts, and she kneels in front of me. “Don’t go with the angels, Oliver!” she cries. “Stay with me!”
With that, she leans down and seals her lips over mine in a massive huff that is supposed to be artificial respiration but feels more like a sloppy, wet kiss. Sputtering, I sit up and push her off me.
“I did it! I saved you!” Seraphima cries, pulling me into her arms. “Oh, Oliver. I don’t know if this is life imitating art or art imitating life…. I’m just so glad to know that you and I will have our chance to live happily ever after!”
I groan. “Where’s the unicorn….”
“Far, far away, my love. Why?”
“I was hoping it could run me through again.”
Frump shuffles closer, his tail between his legs.Sorry,I silently mouth.
