by Chris Colfer
“But if the Lord wants to identify those who willingly overcome magic, aren’t you interfering by forcing young girls to overcome it?”
Her second question was even more befuddling than the first. Mr. Edgar became flustered and his cheeks turned the same color as his bow tie. His eyes darted between Brystal and his wife as he composed a response.
“Of course not!” he said. “Magic is an unholy manipulation of nature! And no one should manipulate the Lord’s beautiful world but the Lord himself! He smiles upon the people who try to stop such abominations!”
“But you’re trying to manipulate me—isn’t that also an abomination?” Brystal asked.
Mr. and Mrs. Edgar gasped—they had never been accused of such a thing. Brystal knew she should stop while she was ahead, but she couldn’t stomach any more hypocrisy. She was going to speak her mind whether the administrators liked it or not.
“How dare you!” Mr. Edgar exclaimed. “My wife and I have devoted our lives to the Lord’s work!”
“But what if you’re wrong about the Lord?” she argued. “What if the Lord is much kinder and loving than you’re giving Him credit for? What if the Lord invented magic so people could help each other and enrich their own lives? What if the Lord thinks you’re the unholy ones for abusing people and making them believe their existence is a—”
WHACK! Mrs. Edgar slapped Brystal so hard her whole head jerked in a different direction.
“You disrespectful little beast,” Mrs. Edgar said. “You will bite your tongue or I will have it removed! Is that understood?”
Brystal nodded as blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. Mr. Edgar leaned back in his chair and stared at Brystal like she was a wild animal he was excited to tame.
“You have a long road ahead of you, Miss Evergreen,” he said. “I’m looking forward to watching your progress.”
A loud gong sounded through the facility.
“Ah, time for dinner,” Mr. Edgar said. “You may join the other girls in the dining hall. Try to get some rest tonight—tomorrow is going to be a very, very long day for you.”
Mrs. Edgar raised Brystal onto her feet, walked her to the door, and gave her a shove on her way down the rickety staircase.
At the announcement of dinner, the young women sewing boots in the dining hall put away their work. The girls filed in from outside and joined the others at the tables. Brystal didn’t know where to sit so she took the first empty seat she could find. None of the girls noticed the newcomer in their presence; in fact, none of the girls said a word or shifted their focus from whatever was directly ahead of them. Despite Brystal’s attempts to introduce herself, the young women remained silent and still as statues.
Mr. and Mrs. Edgar sat in throne-like chairs at the faculty table and were joined by the wardens and the hunchbacked gatekeeper. Once they were seated, a group of young women with aprons over their gray-and-black-striped dresses entered from the kitchen and served the faculty members roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and baked vegetables. The delicious aroma reminded Brystal of how hungry she was and her stomach growled like a neglected pet.
After the faculty’s plates were full, the young women were sent table by table to line up at a serving cart for their own supper. Brystal was handed a crusty bowl of a chunky brown stew that bubbled and smelled like skunk. It took every ounce of willpower not to gag at the revolting food. She followed the line back to her table, where the young women stood at their seats until all the girls in the hall were served.
While they waited, Brystal’s eyes fell on a girl a few seats down from her. She was the smallest girl in the dining hall and couldn’t have been older than six or seven years old. She had big brown eyes, a tiny button nose, and a very short choppy haircut. Unlike the others, the little girl sensed Brystal’s gaze and turned to her. At first, Brystal was taken aback by the acknowledgment and didn’t know what to do.
“Hello,” she whispered with a smile. “What’s your name?”
The little girl didn’t respond and just stared at Brystal with blank eyes, as if her body was deprived of a soul.
“My name is Brystal,” Brystal said. “Today’s my first day. How long have you—”
Their one-sided conversation was interrupted when Mr. Edgar pounded his fist on the faculty table. All the young women had finally returned to their seats and the administrator rose from his chair to address the room.
“It’s time for the evening prayer,” he instructed. “Begin!”
Brystal didn’t know the young women could speak, but to her surprise, they followed Mr. Edgar’s command and recited a prayer in perfect unison:
“To our Lord in heaven, we send our daily thanks for the meal we’re about to receive. May it nourish our bodies, so we may continue the work of our hands and the work of our hearts. May you bless us with the wisdom to recognize our faults, the strength to fix what’s broken inside us, and the guidance to stray from our unnatural temptations. In the name of the Southern Kingdom, we pray. Amen.”
When the prayer was finished, the girls took their seats and devoured the brown stew like they had never eaten before. Brystal couldn’t remember the last time she was so hungry, but she couldn’t even touch the food; the daily blessing had made her too angry to eat. Even in her worst nightmares, she had never imagined a place as terrible as this, and as far as she knew, she would be stuck there for a very, very long time.
Brystal’s room at the Bootstrap Correctional Facility was the size of a closet, but that was the least of her worries. Shortly after dinner, two wardens escorted her to the small chamber on the fifth floor and locked her behind its sliding barred door. As the temperature dropped overnight, Brystal had nothing but a thin and raggedy blanket to keep warm. She had never been so cold in her entire life and shivered so hard her cot was practically vibrating. Her jaw rattled with such intensity her teeth sounded like a horse’s hooves against pavement.
Around midnight, Brystal was distracted from the cold by the strange sensation of being watched. When she looked up, she was startled to see the little girl with short choppy hair standing behind the bars of her door. The girl stared at her just as blankly as she had at dinner and carried a folded wool blanket.
“Um… hello,” Brystal said, wondering how long the little girl had been standing there. “Can I help you?”
“Pip,” she said.
Brystal was confused and sat up to get a better look at the odd little girl.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“It’s Pip,” the little girl repeated.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Brystal apologized. “Does that mean something in another language?”
“At dinner you asked me what my name was,” the little girl said. “It’s Pip.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Brystal recalled. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Pip. Is there a reason you’re giving me your name so late?”
Pip shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “I just finally remembered it.”
The little girl’s distant gaze never changed, but there was an innocence about her that Brystal found charming.
“Do you have a last name, Pip?”
The little girl looked at the floor and her shoulders sank. Remembering her first name was such a challenge she hadn’t prepared for any more questions.
“Wait, I do,” she said. “It’s Squeak—Pip Squeak.”
“Pip Squeak?” Brystal was surprised to hear. “Is that your real name?”
“It’s the only name I remember being called,” Pip said with a shrug. “Then again, I don’t have many memories from before I lived here.”
“How long have you been here?” Brystal asked.
“About six years, I think.”
“You’ve been here that long?”
“I was just a toddler when I arrived,” Pip said. “My parents brought me here as soon as they realized I was different. I started showing signs pretty early.”
“You mean sig
ns of magic?” Brystal asked. “You were doing magic when you were just a toddler?”
“Mhmmm,” Pip said. “Still can, too. Want me to show you?”
“Please,” Brystal said without hesitating.
The little girl looked up and down the hallway to make sure they were alone. When she’d seen the coast was clear, Pip stretched out her neck and limbs, and then pressed her head against the barred door. Brystal watched in amazement as, slowly but surely, the little girl squeezed through the bars like her body was made of clay. Once she was on the other side, Pip’s body snapped back to its original shape.
“That’s unbelievable!” Brystal exclaimed, forgetting to keep her voice down. “You’ve been doing that since you were a baby?”
“I used to squeeze through the railing of my crib.”
Brystal laughed. “I guess that explains how you got out of your room tonight.”
“I sneak out all the time,” Pip said. “Oh, that reminds me, I came to bring you this. I could hear you shivering from my room, so I snuck into the Edgars’ linen closet to get you an extra blanket.”
She wrapped the blanket around Brystal’s shoulders. Brystal was extremely touched by Pip’s gesture—but she was also extremely cold and had no trouble accepting it.
“That was so kind of you,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t need it?”
“No, I’m used to the cold,” Pip said. “Although it’s been getting a lot colder lately. It usually starts warming up this time of year, but I overheard Mr. Edgar saying there’s a really bad blizzard in the Northern Kingdom. We’re not too far from the border, so let’s hope the storm doesn’t get any closer.”
“Yes, let’s hope,” Brystal said. “I don’t think I could manage anything colder than this. It rarely snows in Chariot Hills.”
“What’s Chariot Hills?” Pip asked.
Brystal was shocked she had never heard of the city before, but then reminded herself that Pip didn’t even know her own real name.
“It’s the city where I’m from,” she explained.
“Oh,” Pip said. “I’m sorry, I don’t get out much—well, never, actually. What’s Chariot Hills like?”
“It’s big and busy.” Brystal described it: “There’s a town square with a courthouse, a cathedral, and a law university. It’s also the capital of the Southern Kingdom and where the king lives with the royal family.”
“You’re from the same place as the royal family?” Pip asked. “How did a girl like you end up here?”
“Same as you. I got caught doing magic,” Brystal said. “I didn’t even know I was capable of magic until a week ago. I found a book called The Truth About Magic in the library I worked at. There was an ancient incantation in the book to test whether someone has magic in their blood. I was stupid enough to read it aloud, and now here I am.”
“What happened when you read it?”
“The first time, I covered a room in flowers. The second time, I filled the room with thousands of lights and made it look like the universe.”
Pip’s large eyes grew even larger. “That’s amazing!” she said. “I’ve never met someone who could do anything like that before. Most of the girls here just have little tricks like mine. A girl down the hall from my room can grow her hair at will, a girl on the second floor can stand on water without sinking, and I’ve seen one girl talk to the cows outside—but that might not be magic, she might just be weird. You must be really powerful if you covered a whole room in flowers and lights!”
Brystal had never thought about it before. “You think so?” she asked. “I’ve never had anything to compare it to. Your magic is the only magic I’ve seen besides my own. I’m glad Mr. and Mrs. Edgar haven’t drained it out of you yet.”
“Don’t worry, their treatments don’t actually cure magic,” Pip said. “This facility is just a front for the Edgars’ family business. It was a regular boot factory before Mr. Edgar inherited it—hence the name Bootstrap. The only reason he and his wife turned it into a correctional facility was to get free labor out of young girls. At least, that’s what I heard the gatekeeper say—he’s also an aspiring poet, but that’s a different story. It’s funny how much you learn when no one thinks you’re listening.”
“The Edgars are such terrible people!” Brystal said. “And they have the nerve to say we’re the sinful ones!”
Suddenly, both girls jumped at the sound of footsteps echoing from a few floors below.
“Who is that?” Brystal asked.
“The wardens are making their nightly rounds,” Pip said. “I should get back to my room before they reach our floor.”
“Wait, don’t forget this.” Brystal removed the blanket from her shoulders and tried to hand it back, but Pip wouldn’t take it.
“You can keep it for the night,” she said. “But I’ll have to collect it early in the morning and return it to the closet before Mrs. Edgar wakes up. She caught me sneaking out of my room last week and chopped off all my hair as punishment—if it happens again they’ll put me in the dunker for sure.”
“What’s the dunker?” Brystal asked.
“When girls misbehave—I mean really misbehave—they’re strapped to the well outside and dunked in the cold water until Mr. Edgar thinks they’ve learned their lesson. Sometimes it takes hours!”
Brystal couldn’t believe her ears. “This place gets more dreadful by the minute!” she said. “How have you survived it for so long?”
“I guess it could be worse,” Pip said.
“How?”
“Oh, I don’t actually know how it could be worse,” she said. “I haven’t been many places to compare it to—well, none, actually.”
“It’s certainly the worst place I’ve ever been to,” Brystal said. “But I’m grateful I met someone as kind as you. Let’s break out of here one day and move someplace warm where we can see the ocean. What do you say?”
Brystal knew the thought intrigued Pip because the corners of her mouth began to twitch and slowly curved into a smile—possibly the first smile she had ever had.
“It’s a nice thought to fall asleep to,” she said. “Good night, Brystal.”
Pip squeezed through the bars and quietly snuck back to her room before the wardens reached the fifth floor. Brystal lay back down on her cot and tried her best to sleep. She was still cold even with a second blanket, but she shivered a lot less thanks to the warmth of her new friend.
Brystal thought working at the library was strenuous, but it was nothing compared to her first days at the Bootstrap Correctional Facility. Every morning at dawn, the wardens unlocked the young women from their rooms, rushed them through a grotesque breakfast in the dining hall, and then forced them to complete chores until dinner. The tasks were brutal on Brystal’s body, and with every passing hour, she didn’t know how she would get through the next—but she didn’t have a choice. By the end of her first week, her faded gray-and-black-striped dress was much looser than it had been the day she first put it on.
The most challenging part of all was keeping the frustration from surfacing on her face; otherwise she would meet the wrath of the wardens. Occasionally, Brystal would get the eerie sense that she was being watched by more than just the wardens. She’d look up and see Mr. Edgar glaring down at her from his office, delighted to see how much she was struggling.
By the end of each day, Brystal’s body ached so much she didn’t even notice the freezing temperature. Pip was kind enough to sneak her a blanket each night after the Edgars went to bed and then she promptly returned the blanket the next morning before they woke. Brystal hated that Pip was risking getting caught for her sake, but their nightly visits were all she had to look forward to. Their daydreams about escaping the facility and moving to the coast were the only thing that kept her going—she didn’t know how she would survive without them.
One night, Pip didn’t show up and Brystal became concerned. Her friend had spent the day digging holes in the yard, so Brystal hoped she was just too
tired to sneak out of her room. The following morning, while she waited for breakfast to be served, Brystal’s concerns skyrocketed because she didn’t see Pip anywhere in the dining hall. She strained her neck trying to spot her friend’s choppy hair among the bandannas, but Pip was gone.
Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Edgar emerged from their office, slamming the heavy door behind them. They marched down the rickety steps in a huff, causing the staircase to sway beneath them, and then proceeded to the front of the hall.
“Breakfast has been canceled this morning,” Mr. Edgar announced.
Brystal sighed and slumped in her seat—she had become dependent on the nauseating meals—but she was the only girl at her table who was affected by the news. The others remained as motionless and expressionless as always.
“Something very troubling occurred late last night,” Mr. Edgar went on. “While my wife and I slept, the wardens caught a young lady stealing our private property. As you know, thievery is an unforgivable sin in the eyes of the Lord, and it will not be tolerated under this roof! We must make an example out of this thief so the Lord does not think we’ve deserted Him! Bring her in!”
At his signal, Brystal watched in horror as the wardens pushed Pip into the dining hall. Her hands were tied behind her back and her large eyes were more distant than normal, like her mind had abandoned her body out of fear. The wardens moved her to the front of the room beside Mr. Edgar, and the administrator walked in circles around Pip as he questioned the small girl.
“Tell the other girls what you did,” he ordered.
“I… I… I took a blanket from the linen closet,” Pip confessed.
“And why would you do such a wicked thing?” Mr. Edgar asked.
“I… I… I was cold,” she said.
Pip looked up and her eyes immediately found Brystal in the crowd. Watching her friend lie on her behalf made Brystal sick to her stomach—she had to do something to save Pip, but she didn’t know how to help her.