Free Trolls Prequel Novel by Jen Malone

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.

Poppy
    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:
    1. I’m here to help in every way I possibly can.
    2. Harper is an artist, and everyone knows sometimes artists can get a little adorably daydreamy when it comes time to get down to business, and I’m here to focus her.

    Also:
    3. I have snacks. Three cupcakes still sit on the tray under the chair. It would be a total shame to let them go to waste. A tragedy.
    4. Snacks help focus attention by providing an essential energy boost.
    5. Lastly, I have a plan.
    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:
    1. Freak out.
    2. Freak out.
    3. Freak out some more, while standing on head.
    “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