Amelia and the Trouble with Cosmic Unicorns

Chapter Two: The Trouble with Cosmic Unicorns

Amelia Jean Stratton woke up to the sound of her younger sister, Iris, belting out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star at the top of her lungs. This wasn’t unusual. Iris believed every moment of her life required a soundtrack.

Amelia groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. “Can’t she take her preschool musical act somewhere else?”

“Iris,” Mom’s voice called from the hallway, “please don’t climb the dresser while singing.”

Amelia sat up and yawned, glancing out the window. Spark was lying on the backyard trampoline, her mane shimmering in the sunlight. She had somehow managed to wedge herself into a yoga pose that shouldn’t be physically possible for a horse, let alone a unicorn.

“What’s she doing now?” Amelia muttered to herself.

By the time she shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep, Spark had shrunk herself to the size of a housecat and was lounging on the counter. A tiara from Iris’s dress-up box was perched jauntily on her head.

“Good morning, Amelia Jean,” Spark said, waving a tiny hoof. “Care for some royal company during breakfast?”

Amelia rubbed her eyes. “Why are you wearing a tiara?”

“Iris insisted. Apparently, I am now Queen of All Unicorns.”

“Seems legit,” Elias said, strolling into the kitchen and grabbing a string cheese from the fridge. He glanced at Amelia. “So, how’s life with your sparkly sidekick?”

Amelia gave him a withering look. “Oh, it’s fantastic. She’s already declared herself royalty and keeps sitting in the fruit bowl.”

Dad walked in, holding his ever-present coffee mug. He paused, staring at Spark. “Is that the same unicorn from yesterday?”

“Nope,” Spark said, her voice completely deadpan. “I’m her twin sister. Surprise.”

Dad stared at her for a long moment, then sipped his coffee. “I need to stop drinking the good stuff.”

Amelia’s New Normal

By the time they got to school, Amelia had resigned herself to the fact that Spark wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, Spark seemed to be settling in like she’d always been part of the family.

“You know the rules,” Amelia whispered as they walked toward the bus stop. “No magic, no glitter, and definitely no talking to my teacher.”

Spark, now her regular unicorn size, nodded solemnly. “Understood. I shall remain the pinnacle of discretion.”

“Discretion,” Elias muttered, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, “is not in her vocabulary.”

“It is now!” Spark said brightly. “I read a dictionary last night. Discretion: the act of being stealthy and fabulous. That’s me.”

Amelia facepalmed. “That’s not what it means.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Spark said with a shrug, her mane sparkling in the morning sun.

When they reached the bus stop, Iris tugged on Spark’s mane. “Spark, can you come to preschool with me again? It’s Pajama Day!”

“No!” Amelia said quickly.

“Yes!” Spark said at the same time.

Iris’s face lit up. “You can wear my rainbow PJs!”

Spark grinned. “Sold.”

Amelia groaned. “You’re going to get me grounded for life.”

The School Day Shenanigans

Amelia’s plan for a quiet, Spark-free day fell apart almost immediately.

The first sign of trouble came during art class. Amelia was happily painting a picture of Buddy, their dog, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Amelia Jean! Look at you, an artist in the making!”

Amelia froze, her brush hovering in mid-air. She turned slowly to see Spark sitting on the supply cart, her horn glowing faintly as a line of markers danced in mid-air like synchronized swimmers.

“Spark!” Amelia hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Enhancing the creative process,” Spark said cheerfully.

Amelia grabbed Spark’s mane and yanked her behind the easel. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“I’m invisible to the rest of your class,” Spark said, winking. “Only you can see me. Relax, Amelia Jean. I’m practically a ninja.”

Amelia groaned. “If you’re a ninja, why are you juggling glitter glue?”

By the time recess rolled around, Spark had somehow managed to stay out of major trouble—until the soccer game started.

“Go long!” one of the fifth graders shouted, kicking the ball high into the air.

“Allow me!” Spark called out, galloping across the field. She leapt into the air, her horn glowing as she knocked the ball toward the goal.

The ball shot forward like a rocket, slammed into the net, and tore straight through it, embedding itself in the fence behind the field.

The playground fell silent.

“Did a unicorn just—” one kid began.

“Nope!” Amelia shouted, dragging Spark toward the jungle gym. “You’re imagining things. Soccer balls are just… super powerful these days!”

Spark beamed. “You’re welcome, Amelia Jean. I just scored the winning goal!”

“You also destroyed the equipment,” Amelia grumbled. “And now everyone’s staring.”

“Good thing they can’t see me,” Spark said smugly.

Amelia glared. “They can see the ball, Spark!”

“Oh,” Spark said, glancing at the fence. “Oops.”

Home Sweet Chaos

By the time they got home, Amelia was exhausted. She dumped her backpack by the door and collapsed onto the couch.

Elias strolled in after her, his arms crossed. “How was your day with Miss Sparkle-Trouble?”

“Terrible,” Amelia said into a pillow.

Spark, now shrunk down to hamster size, hopped onto the coffee table. “Terribly fun, you mean.”

Elias rolled his eyes. “I give it a week before the school bans her.”

“Never!” Spark declared, striking a heroic pose. “I am an unstoppable force of joy and glitter!”

Dad walked in, holding another mug of coffee. He stopped, stared at Spark, then sighed. “Iris, come get your hamster-unicorn thing before it breaks something.”

Amelia groaned. “This is my life now. Spark, stop posing dramatically and help me figure out my math homework.”

“Math?” Spark said, wrinkling her nose. “No thanks. I only deal in cosmic calculations.”

Amelia sat up, narrowing her eyes. “What’s a cosmic calculation?”

“Basically,” Spark said, grinning, “it’s whatever gets you out of math homework.”

Amelia couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, Spark. Maybe you’re not all bad.”

“Not all bad?” Spark gasped. “Amelia Jean, I am all amazing.”

The End (But perhaps there will be more…)

Disclosure: These prose were written with the assistance of OpenAI’s ChatGPT 4o.