Trolls Prequel Novel (9 page)

P
oppy is uber happy one hundred percent of the time, so I'm pretty used to uber happy. But even her over-the-top joy could never compare to Biggie's when we put Mr. Dinkles back in his arms. His happy tears could form an actual river.

We all take a moment to celebrate with everyone who gathers around to welcome Mr. Dinkles back to his rightful spot, cuddled into Biggie's shoulder. Biggie's happy tears are back, spilling off his cheeks and soaking Mr. Dinkles, who doesn't mind at all.

“Oh, Mr. Dinkles, I'm just s-s-so happy I could cr-cry,” stuttered Biggie. “That is, if I weren't already s-sobbing with joy.”

With that good deed done, there is nothing in the way of seeing Guy Diamond's entry.

I am
really
excited to see this, whatever it is. Even the fact that he has to take us to it, instead of the other way around, is very intriguing and unexpected. I love the unexpected. The whole spirit of it is so…artistic.

My insides fill with lightness. It's just like Guy to think outside the box. I notice Poppy's step is every bit as springy as mine.

He leads us nearly to the complete opposite end of Troll Village. As we trail along the winding path, a gathering of Trolls joins in behind us, which is so typical when Guy's around. Probably none of them know what they're in store for or why they've dropped everything to skip off down a trail, but Guy Diamond does tend to have that effect on us. Where he goes, we follow.

In single file, we loop our hair onto branches to swing high across clearings and dash under tree canopies.

Finally, we push through a thicket of felt ferns into a sheltered little alcove. It's surrounded by butter-soft leaves and swishy grasses, and beneath our feet are bouquets of fleecy wildflowers.

“I like it here,” says Poppy, and I can only nod in amazement. How did he find this spot?

Guy Diamond smiles. “I
knowwwwwww, riiiight
? But this isn't
theeeeee
best
parrrrt.
Wait until I
aaaaadd
to
iiiiiit.
”

My eyes grow rounder and my ears prick up. Guy gestures to the other Trolls to move back. When Poppy and I start to join them, Guy Diamond shakes his head.

“
Noooo, nooooo,
you two
staaaaand
right
underrrrr
here.”

He takes us by our shoulders and positions us so that we're both perfectly centered underneath a summer-green toadstool dotted with huge red spots. Poppy and I clutch hands. I can hardly wait for whatever is about to happen.

“
Closssssse
your
eyyyyyesss,
” Guy Diamond says.

Eyes closed. Check!

“
Whennnn
I
sayyyyy
‘Now,'
opennnn theeem.
”

I can feel Poppy's excitement when I curl my fingers around hers and she squeezes in return.

“Aaaaaand NOWWWW!”

My eyes fly open, and before I can even utter a sound, Poppy beats me to it with a super loud “Ooooh!”

“Ooooh” is right! I look around in a daze.

“It's like being inside a snow globe,” Poppy says, her voice full of wonder.

I can only nod. Guy Diamond has created a glitter shower from above the toadstool. From every angle around us, we're all wrapped up in this sparkling wonderland as twinkling silver glitter rains gently down.

“It's magical,” I say, when I can finally manage words.

“Totally,” agrees Poppy.

Art is one of those things that's hard to define. One person might love what someone else doesn't love. Is a thing called art because it seems really hard to do, like an elaborate sculpture, and not art because it seems really easy to make, like a squiggle on a piece of paper? To me, at least, what's art and what isn't is pretty simple. Art is anything that makes someone feel something. Possibly a good something, possibly an uncomfortable something, but always a
something.

Right now, as the glitter swirls and whirls around me, I'm feeling so much joy.

“Way to close the day with a bang,” Poppy says.

“Or more like a…How would you describe the sound of falling glitter?” I ask.

We both hold perfectly still, straining our ears to listen to the glitter swish by our ears, but it's raining down so gently, there isn't any sound at all. It's just amazing.

W
e head back to the pod, and it is quiet and empty. To be honest, I was hoping by this point in the day, Harper would have had an “aha” moment about one of the entries. In my opinion, any one of them would be astounding for the gallery opening!

But I have a few strategies up my sleeve to help. In fact, I have a whole list of reasons why this is all going to work out just fine.

Here they are:

Also:

Which is good, because one look at Harper, currently wringing her hands, and I can tell she has a list of her own that goes something like:

“Let's be systematic about this,” I continue. “If you want to give me thirty seconds, I can whip up a stylish pros-and-cons chart. Obviously, I could create something way better if I had my scrapbooking supplies on me, but I'm a ‘make do with what you have' kind of Troll, so it's all good.”

Harper stays inverted, but manages a nod, which…Good for her. That's not so easy to do while in a headstand.

I grab the sketchbook off the table and get to scribbling. What I wouldn't give for a few photo corners. Or my sheet of butterfly stickers—so stinking cute. Or some satiny fabric. Or some double-sided tape. I'd give the kingdom for a pair of tweezers that make getting all those delicate objects into the right place a piece of cake.

Oh, well. As pros-and-cons charts go, this one is perfectly serviceable.

“Okay, Harper!” I cheer. “How do you want to start?”

Harper flips upright and stares at me for a moment, and then her face falls. “That's the problem. We saw tons of great entries, but I still don't
know.
How am I supposed to pick the opening-night entry if I can't even figure out where to start? This is hopeless. I should just give up now and forget about picking an entry or having a gala or…even having a gallery.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. She's in her head deeper than I thought. “Rein it in there, sister! We haven't even
begun,
so you can't go quitting on me yet.”

Harper sighs.

“We have ridiculously awesome options here. We just have to focus our thinking.”

I grab the pros-and-cons chart and start writing the names of everyone who presented an exhibit. “We'll go through all the entries in order and discuss the good and the even better parts of each. I'll bet the decision will become crystal clear just from this.”

I join Harper on the ground and plop the chart in front of us. I uncap the hot-pink pen I've stashed in my hair and put its feathered cap between my teeth.

“ErkayweshtrartwichCorperrr.”

Harper wrinkles her nose. “Huh?”

I open my mouth and let the cap fall into my hand. “Whoops. Sorry. I said, ‘Okay, we start with Cooper.' ”

Harper still has a hesitant look on her face.

I grab the clipboard that still has my rating cards from earlier on it and begin flipping through them.

“Poppy, all of these cards match.”

I glance over. “What now?”

Harper puts her hands on her hips. “You rated every entry you saw ‘twenty thumbs up'!”

“Well, sure, because I really, really, REALLY liked all of them. So much!”

Harper sighs, but she can't keep from grinning.

I shrug and grin back. “Okay, so let's get to work. We go in order, starting with breakfast. I mean, with Cooper, who happened to
bring
breakfast.”

Harper laughs. “You mean dessert!” Then she quickly adds, “Not that I'm complaining. I'd be totally fine starting every morning with Tangerine Fudge Brownies!”

Poppy nods. “And if you think about it, those French Toast Swirl Danishes with the bacon topping incorporated lots of breakfasty items: French toast, bacon…”

Just thinking about that Danish makes me chew on the end of the pink pen in my mouth. Whoops! I absentmindedly swapped the cap for the pen, and now my mouth, lips, and tongue are an even hot-pinkier shade than normal.

Oh, well.

I shake the pen and test it on a corner of the chart. Aside from a tiny bit of drool still on the tip, it writes just fine.

“True. You don't have to sell me,” Harper answers, and at first I think she's talking about the pen still working, but when I glance up to see her staring off into space, I realize she's talking about the Danish.

“Do you mean I don't have to sell you on Cooper as the gala's opening exhibit?” I ask. Could it really be as easy as this?

Harper shakes her head. “As much as I loved, loved, loved that Lemon-Lime Gingerroot…uh, I forgot the end part again.”

“Boysenberry Popsicle Explosion Muffins,” I finish smoothly.

“Yes. That,” she says. “Anyway, as much as I enjoyed them, I just wonder if they were exactly right for this.”

I jump up and grab the tray. Just as Harper opens her mouth to speak again, I slip a bite-sized piece of Root Beer Cheesecake Cupcake inside it. Her eyes get all wide in surprise, then they close in on what I'm guessing is bliss as she chews the gooey treat.

“Exactly,” I say, watching her expression carefully. “You're seriously going to tell me that isn't exactly right?”

Harper swallows slowly. “Okay, no. Cooper's pastries are beyond delicious. It's more that…”

She trails off, trying to figure how to say what she means.

“I think…,” she starts again. But she closes her mouth in frustration and drops her head into her hands.

Okay, I can wait this out, give her space. I doodle flowers along the edges of the chart. She needs to figure out her head here, and I'm perfectly fine giving her all the time she needs to get there. I keep totally quiet.

Yup, I can wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After a couple minutes of this, it becomes pretty obvious that Harper's not able to hit on the thing that is bothering her about Cooper's entry. No worries. We'll just go back to the pros-and-cons chart. I have a plan, and I'm sticking to it.

“Okay, I'm putting ‘radically delicious' in the pros column,” I tell her. “Quick, give me something for the cons side without thinking too hard on it.”

“A con. Got it,” says Harper. “They're too…too dependent on the weather.”

My forehead crinkles. “Say what? They're cupcakes and brownies and Danishes. How are those dependent on the weather? Personally speaking, I could eat them any time of year! And we'll be inside a pod, so exactly what weather are we talking about here?”

“Well, for instance, if too many Trolls are crammed inside for the opening, maybe it'll get really hot, and the icing on the brownies could melt….” Harper tries, but she doesn't sound all that convincing.

I shrug. “If you insist.”

I duck my head and write
not heat-resistant
in the cons column. In the pros column, I add
Everyone will leave happy, because they'll have a full stomach,
then turn the sheet so Harper can see.

“Right, but what if they get
too
full and leave with stomachaches?”

I add that to the cons list then give her a big smile. “See, we're getting somewhere!”

Harper doesn't look convinced. “We are? We have an even number in both columns, and I can't think of anything else to add.”

I check to make sure I have the pen facing the right way this time before sticking the end in my mouth and chewing. “Okay, well, we're only on the first entry. Let's move on and come back to Cooper later.”

Harper's shoulders are a bit slumpy, but she nods.

“Okay, great! So next we had DJ Suki. How can we forget her dance party?”

“How could
anyone
forget that dance party? It went on for half the morning, and most of Troll Village joined in!”

I pause to scribble
brings the party
in the pros column. “Not AT ALL a bad quality in an opening exhibit. Her music will make sure everyone has a great time.”

Harper nods slowly, but it seems to me like her thoughts are suddenly a million miles away. She snaps her fingers. “Yes, that's it!”

She looks at me expectantly, but all I can do is stare back. “You're going to have to give me a little something more to go on there, Harp.”

“Sorry, sorry. It's just…I figured out what was bothering me about Cooper's entry, and it's the same thing that's bothering me about DJ Suki's!”

I sit up straight and focus my eyes on hers, indicating that I'm all ears.

“Okay. I love Cooper's desserts, and so does everyone else, because they've had them before. And because they can get them from Cooper any time they want. Same with DJ Suki's music. It's incredible, but it's not something the other Trolls have never experienced before. Know what I mean?”

Hmm.
I'm sure there's a different way of looking at this; I just have to figure out what that is.

Harper continues, “Technically speaking, no one has seen every one of Biggie's portraits, and definitely not all in one place, the way he displayed them, but it's a pretty rare day in Troll Village when Biggie isn't offering up a new Mr. Dinkles picture to anyone who will look. And Smidge!”

“What about her?” I ask.

“Well, she's crazy-proud of her hair stunts—”

I interrupt, “Yep, and who could blame her?”

“True,” Harper agrees, “but that means she is always exhibiting them, and everyone's already seen them before.”

I refuse to let Harper go down this rabbit hole. “Well, I didn't get to witness Satin and Chenille's collection, but I'm guessing the outfits they showed you were newer than new. And judging by what they've done in the past, I'm positive they were incredible.”

Harper nods and her eyes lose focus as she stares into space above my head. “You have a point there.”

I smirk. “I
knew
we just had to keep going to find the solution. And Guy Diamond's?
Definitely
new.”

Okay, sure, so Guy Diamond does tend to puff glitter wherever he goes, BUT
no one
has experienced a glitter shower like the one he showed us today.

With Harper watching carefully, I write
new
in the pros column next to Satin and Chenille.

Next to Guy Diamond's name in the pros column I write
definitely new
and doodle an umbrella-shaped toadstool and some raindrops next to it. If I could figure out how to draw glitter in two-dimensional hot-pink ink, I would opt for that, but the rain dashes will have to stand in for it in the meantime.

Harper is
still
looking a bit distressed, even with this new positive development.

I turn the sheet to her. “Look! New and different offerings. It's all good.”

Harper studies the chart, and the corners of her lips lift slightly. “You're right. Satin and Chenille and Guy Diamond had outside-the-box entries.

“And Biggie had a unique way of exhibiting his portraits of Mr. Dinkles—no one has ever seen them all in one place like that. Plus, I'll bet Cooper could come up with a totally un-debuted flavor no one has tasted before if you ask him. And maybe Smidge could learn a new hair stunt between now and then. So really, you still have all the options!” I say. “All you have to do is pick one and we're home free!”