For the second time in two challenges, Sophie looked up at the top rank, spewing red smoke above her head.
Panicked, she whipped to her schoolmates to appeal, but they were no longer looking at her with contempt or ridicule. They were looking at her with something else.
Respect.
Her place as #1 Villain was getting surer by the minute.
Up close, Professor Clarissa Dovey, with her silver bun and rosy face, looked even more comforting and grandmotherly. Agatha couldn’t have wished for a better executioner.
“I’d prefer the School Master handle these things,” Professor Dovey said, flipping papers under a crystal pumpkin paperweight. “But we all know how he is about his privacy.”
Finally she peered up at Agatha. She didn’t look comforting anymore.
“I have a school full of terrified students, two days of classes to make up, five hundred animals whose memories must be erased, a classroom wing that’s been eaten, a treasured menagerie reduced to ash, and a headless gargoyle buried somewhere underneath all this. Do you know why this is?”
Agatha couldn’t get words out of her throat.
“Because you disobeyed Pollux’s simple order,” Professor Dovey said. “And nearly cost lives in the process.” She shamed Agatha with a look and went back to her scrolls.
Agatha glanced through the window at the lakeshore, where Evers were finishing lunches of roast chicken dolloped with mustard, spinach and Gruyère crepes, and flutes of apple cider. She could see Tedros reenacting the menagerie scene for an enthralled audience, sporting his black eye like a badge of honor.
“Can I say bye to my friend at least?” Agatha said, eyes welling. She turned to Professor Dovey.
“Before you . . . kill me?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“But I have to see her!”
Professor Dovey looked up. “Agatha, you received a first rank for your performance in Animal Communication and rightfully so. Only a rare talent can make a wish come to life. And though there are different accounts of what exactly happened on the roof, I would add that any pupil of this school who would risk their life to help a gargoyle . . .” Her eyes glistened and for a moment so did the silver swan on her dress. “Well, that suggests Goodness beyond any measure.”
Agatha stared at her, tongue-tied.
“But if you disobey another teacher’s direct order, Agatha, I guarantee you will fail. Understood?”
Agatha nodded in relief.
She heard laughter outside and turned to see Tedros’ mates kicking around a pillow dummy with twig legs, coal button eyes, and black thorns for hair. An arrow suddenly speared its head, spitting feathers everywhere. A second arrow ripped open its heart.
The boys stopped laughing and turned. Across the lawn, Tedros threw down his bow and walked away.
“As for your friend, she’s doing just fine where she is,” Professor Dovey said, thumbing through more scrolls. “But you can ask her yourself. She’s in your next class.”
Agatha wasn’t listening. Her eyes were still on the dead-eyed doll, bleeding feathers into the wind.
The doll that looked just like her.
10
Bad Group
“Who else is in our group?” Agatha asked Sophie, breaking the tension.
Sophie didn’t answer. In fact, she acted as if Agatha wasn’t there at all.
The last class of the day, Surviving Fairy Tales, was the only one that mixed students from Good and Evil. After Professor Dovey ordered Everboys to the Armory to turn in their personal weapons—the only way to appease Lady Lesso, furious over losing a gargoyle to Tedros’ sword—both schools reported to the Blue Forest gates, where fairies sorted them into Forest Groups, eight Evers and eight Nevers in each. As other children found their leaders (an ogre for Group 2, a centaur for Group 8, a lily nymph for 12) Agatha and Sophie were the first to arrive under the flag stamped with a bloodred “3.”
Agatha had so much to tell Sophie about smiles and fish and fires and most of all about that foul son of Arthur, but Sophie wouldn’t even look at her.
“Can’t we just go home?” Agatha begged.
“Why don’t you go home before you fail or end up a mole rat?” Sophie fumed. “You’re in my school.”
“Then why won’t it let us switch?”
Sophie spun. “Because you . . . Because we—”
“Need to go home,” Agatha glared.
Sophie smiled her kindest smile. “Sooner or later, they’ll see what’s right.”
“I’d say sooner,” a voice resounded.
They turned to Tedros, shirt scorched, eye swollen pink and blue.
“If you’re itching for something to kill, how about yourself this time?” Agatha spat.
“‘Thank you’ would suffice,” Tedros shot back. “I risked my life to kill that gargoyle.”
“You killed an innocent child!” Agatha yelled.
“I saved you from death against all instinct and reason!” Tedros roared.
Sophie gaped at them. “You two know each other?”
Agatha swiveled to her. “You think he’s your prince? He’s just a puffed-up windbag who can’t find anything better to do than prance around half naked and thrust his sword where it doesn’t belong!”
“She’s just mad because she owes me her life,” Tedros yawned, scratching his chest. He grinned at Sophie. “So you think I’m your prince?”
Sophie blushed delicately the way she had practiced before class.
“I knew it was a mistake at the Welcoming,” the prince said, studying her with dancing blue eyes. “A girl like you shouldn’t be anywhere near Evil.” He turned to Agatha with a scowl. “And a witch like you shouldn’t be anywhere near someone like her.”
Agatha stepped towards him. “First of all, this witch happens to be her friend. And second, why don’t you go play with yours before I make those eyes match.”
Tedros laughed so hard, he had to grip the gate. “A princess friends with a witch! Now there’s a fairy tale.”
Agatha frowned at Sophie, waiting for her to jump in. Sophie swallowed and turned to Tedros.
“Well, it’s funny you say that, because a princess certainly can’t be friends with a witch, of course, but doesn’t it depend on the type of witch? I mean, what exactly is the definition of a witch—”
Now Tedros was frowning at her.
“And so, um—what I’m trying to say is—”
Sophie looked between Tedros and Agatha, Agatha and Tedros . . .
She swept in front of Agatha and took Tedros’ hand.
“My name’s Sophie, and I like your bruise.”
Agatha crossed her arms.
“My, my,” Tedros said, gazing into Sophie’s tantalizing green eyes. “How are you surviving in that place?”
“Because I knew you’d rescue me,” Sophie breathed.
Agatha coughed to remind them she was still there.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said a girl’s voice behind them.
They turned to see Beatrix, under the bloody “3,” along with Dot, Hort, Ravan, Millicent, and the rest of their Forest Group. To chart all the dirty looks thrown in that moment, one would end up with something resembling a bowl of spaghetti.
“Mmmm,” said a voice below.
They looked down to find a four-foot gnome with wrinkly brown skin, a belted green coat, and a pointy orange hat frowning from a hole in the ground.
“Bad group,” he murmured.
Grumbling loudly, Yuba the Gnome crawled out of his burrow, pulled the gate open with his stubby white staff, and led his students into the Blue Forest.
For a moment, everyone forgot their rancor and marveled at the blue wonderland around them. Every tree, every flower, every blade of grass sparkled a different hue. Slender beams of sun slipped through cerulean canopies, lighting up turquoise trunks and navy blooms. Deer grazed on azure lilacs, crows and hummingbirds jabbered in sapphire nettles, squirrels and rabbits
jaunted through cobalt briars to join storks sipping from an ultramarine pond. No animals seemed skittish or the slightest bit bothered by the crisscrossing student tours. Where Sophie and Agatha had always associated forests with danger and darkness, this one beckoned with beauty and life. At least until they saw a flock of bony stymph birds, sleeping in their blue nest.
“They let those around students?” Sophie said.
“Sleep during the day. Perfectly harmless,” Dot whispered back. “Unless a villain wakes them up.”
As his students followed, Yuba rattled off the history of the Blue Forest in his clipped, hoary voice. Once upon a time, there had been no joint classes for School for Good and School for Evil students. Instead, children had graduated straight from their school’s training into the Endless Woods. But before they could ever engage in battle, Good and Evil inevitably fell prey to hungry boars, scavenging imps, cranky spiders, and the occasional man-eating tulip.
“We had forsaken the obvious,” said Yuba. “You cannot survive your fairy tale if you cannot survive the Woods.”
So the school created the Blue Forest as a training ground. The signature blue foliage arose from protective enchantments that kept intruders out, while reminding students it was just an imitation of more treacherous Woods.
As to just how treacherous the real thing was, the students sensed firsthand as Yuba led them past the North Gates. Though there was still sunlight left in the autumn evening, the dark, dense Woods repelled it like a shield. It was a forest of eternal night, with every inch of green blackened by shadow. As their eyes adjusted to the sooty darkness, the students could see a puny dirt path lilting through trees, like the withering lifeline on an old man’s palm. To both sides of the path, vines strangled trees into armored clumps, so there was barely an undergrowth between them. What was left of the forest floor had been buried beneath mangled thorns, stabbing twigs, and a gauntlet of cobwebs. But none of this scared the students as much as the sounds that came from the darkness beyond the path. Moans and growls echoed from the forest bowels, while low rasps and snarls added ghoulish harmony.
Then the children began to see what was making the sounds. Pairs of eyes watched them through the onyx depths—devilish red and yellow, flickering, vanishing, then reappearing closer than before. The terrible noises grew louder, the fiendish eyes multiplied, the undergrowth crackled with life, and just when the students saw skulking outlines rise from the mist—
“This way,” Yuba called back.
The students scampered from the gates and followed the gnome into a blue clearing without looking back.
Surviving Fairy Tales was just like any other class, Yuba explained from a turquoise tree stump, with students ranked from 1 to 16 for each challenge. Only now there was something more at stake: twice a year, each of the fifteen groups would send its best Ever and best Never to compete in the school’s Trial by Tale. Yuba didn’t say any more about this mysterious competition, except that the winners received five extra first-place ranks. The students in his group glanced at each other, thinking the same thing. Whoever won the Trial by Tale would surely be Class Captain.
“Now there are five rules that separate Good from Evil,” the gnome said, and wrote them in air with his smoking staff.
1. The Evil attack. The Good defend.
2. The Evil punish. The Good forgive.
3. The Evil hurt. The Good help.
4. The Evil take. The Good give.
5. The Evil hate. The Good love.
“As long as you obey the rules for your side, you have the best possible chance of surviving your fairy tale,” Yuba said to the group gathered in navy grass. “These rules should come with ease, of course. You have been chosen for your schools precisely because you show them at the highest level!”
Sophie wanted to scream. Help? Give? Love? That was her life! That was her soul!
“But first you must learn to recognize Good and Evil,” said Yuba. “In the Woods, appearances are often deceiving. Snow White nearly perished because she thought an old woman kind. Red Riding Hood found herself in a wolf’s stomach because she couldn’t tell the difference between family and fiend. Even Beauty struggled to distinguish between hideous beast and noble prince. All unnecessary suffering. For no matter how much Good and Evil are disguised, they can always be told apart. You must look closely. And you must remember the rules.”
For the class challenge, Yuba announced, each student had to distinguish between a disguised Ever and Never by observing their behavior. Whoever correctly identified the Good student and the Evil student in the fastest time would receive first rank.
“I’ve never done any of those Evil rules,” Sophie mourned, standing beside Tedros. “If only they knew all my Good Deeds!”
Beatrix turned. “Nevers shouldn’t talk to Evers.”
“Evers shouldn’t call Evers Nevers,” Sophie snapped.
Beatrix looked confused, while Tedros bit back a smile.
“You have to prove they switched you and the witch,” he whispered to Sophie once Beatrix turned back. “Win the challenge and I’ll go to Professor Dovey myself. If the gargoyle didn’t convince her, then this will.”
“You’d do that . . . for me?” Sophie said, eyes wide.
Tedros touched her black tunic. “Can’t flirt with you in this, can I?”
Sophie would have burned her robes right there if she could.
Hort volunteered to go first. As soon as he tied the ragged blindfold over his eyes, Yuba stabbed his staff at Millicent and Ravan, who magically shriveled in their pink and black clothes, smaller, smaller, until they slithered out of them, identical cobras.
Hort whipped off the blindfold.
“Well?” Yuba said.
“Look the bloody same to me,” Hort said.
“Test them!” Yuba scolded. “Use the rules!”
“I don’t even remember the rules,” Hort said.
“Next,” the gnome grouched.
For Dot’s turn, he changed Beatrix and Hort into unicorns. But then one unicorn started copying the other and vice versa, until they both pranced about like mimicking mimes. Dot scratched her head.
“Rule one! The Evil attack! The Good defend!” barked Yuba. “Which one started it, Dot?”
“Oh! Can we start again?”
“Not just bad,” Yuba grumped. “Worst!”
He squinted at his scroll of names. “Who would like to be disguised for Tedros?”
All the Evergirls raised their hands.
“You haven’t gone yet,” Yuba said, pointing at Sophie. “You either,” he said to Agatha.
“My grandmother could get this one right,” mumbled Tedros, tightening his blindfold.
Agatha tramped in front of the class and stood next to Sophie, who was blushing like a bride.
“Aggie, he doesn’t care what school I’m in or the color of my robes,” Sophie gushed. “He sees who I am.”
“You don’t even know him!”
Sophie flushed. “You’re not . . . happy for me?”
“He knows nothing about you!” Agatha shot back. “All he sees is your looks!”
“For the first time in my life, I feel like someone understands me,” Sophie sighed.
Hurt squeezed Agatha’s throat. “But what about—I mean, you said—”
Sophie met her eyes. “You’ve been such a good friend, Aggie. But we’ll be in different schools, won’t we?”
Agatha turned away.
“Ready, Tedros! Go!” Yuba jabbed his staff, and both girls exploded from their clothes into slimy, stinky hobgoblins.
Tedros took off the blindfold and jumped back, hand to nose. Sophie clasped her green claws and batted her wormy lashes at him. With Sophie’s words throbbing in her head, Agatha slumped sullenly and gave up.
“It seems too obvious,” Tedros said, eyeing the flirting hobgoblin.
Sophie stopped batting her lashes, confused.
“And that witch is craftier than you can imagine,” Tedr
os said, glancing between the two goblins.
Agatha rolled her eyes. This boy had a brain like a peanut.
“Feel with the heart, not the mind!” Yuba shouted at the prince.
Grimacing, Tedros closed his eyes. For a moment the prince hesitated. But then surely, powerfully, he felt himself pulled towards one of the hobgoblins.
Sophie gasped. It wasn’t her.
Tedros reached out and touched Agatha’s wet, warty cheek. “This one’s Sophie.” He opened his eyes. “This one’s the princess.”
Agatha gawped at Sophie, dumbstruck.
“Wait. I’m right,” Tedros said. “Right?”
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Sophie tackled Agatha. “YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!”
To everyone else, this sounded like “GOBBO OOMIE HOOWAH!” but Agatha understood it just fine.
“See how stupid he is! He can’t even tell us apart!” Agatha yelled.
“You tricked him!” Sophie shrieked. “Just like you tricked the bird and the wave and the—”
Tedros punched her in the eye.
“Leave Sophie alone!” he shouted.
Sophie gaped at him. Her prince had just punched her. Her prince had just confused her with Agatha. How could she prove who she was?
“Use the rules!” Yuba bellowed atop a log.
Suddenly understanding, Sophie lurched up so her spotted, humped body towered over Tedros, and she caressed his chest with her greasy green hand. “My dear Tedros. I forgive you for not knowing any better and won’t defend myself even though you attacked me. I only want to help you, my prince, and give us a story that will take us hand in hand to love, happiness, and Ever After.”
But all Tedros heard was a torrent of goblin growls, so he stomped on Sophie’s foot and ran towards Agatha’s goblin, arms outstretched. “I can’t believe you were ever friends with—”
Agatha kneed him in the groin.
“Now I’m confused,” Tedros wheezed and collapsed.
Moaning in pain, he craned up to see Sophie shove Agatha into a blueberry bush, Agatha smack Sophie with a screeching squirrel, and the two green goblins go back and forth, bashing each other like oversugared children.
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