The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid Academy

by Nikki Loftin

  Vasalisa looked uncertain, but she nodded. “I hope you are right, Lorelei. I hope your idea works. These children do not deserve the death she plans.”

  I didn’t want to think about death. I wasn’t a good enough liar to fool Principal Trapp for long. But Vasalisa didn’t need to know how scared I was. I heard the sounds of the first classes coming through the doors of the cafeteria, and after that, I was too busy washing dishes and plating up food to even think.

  Walking past me with a tray full of tainted marzipan, Otto whispered, “Your friend Andrew is not here today. The Morrigan is very angry. You did well. He is safe.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered back. “Is she eating broth?”

  He shook his head. “There was only enough left for one. The principal has taken it. She will not be weak enough to overcome.” He pulled the handle of a small paring knife out of the waistband of his black trousers. “I have this for the Morrigan. She, I may be able to fight. I will try.”

  * * *

  Lunch ended and an hour went by in agonizing slowness. The cafeteria was quieter than it had ever been; I could hear the breathing of each worker, the frantic pounding of my heart. We finished icing the last éclair for snack—in case our plan hadn’t worked—and I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. I opened the door by the playground just a crack.

  * * *

  A line of cars stretched around the school as parents waited to pick up their children. I watched Molly pull up and load a retching Bryan into her car. Ms. Morrigan said something to her and waved her away. Explaining that I hadn’t gotten sick, I assumed.

  Soon, the noise of car engines dwindled, then stopped altogether. The school was still, expectant. I was the only child left.

  When the principal came into the kitchen, she was not alone. Ms. Threnody was with her. Ms. Threnody’s hair looked dirty, with streaks of gray in it that made me think of stagnant water. She walked closer to me, and I smelled the unmistakable, faint hint of rotting fish. Her eyes flashed, but the lights were dim. They had been right; her magic was leaving her.

  But the principal? She was as strong as ever.

  “Tell me who did it,” she demanded, her face fiercely beautiful. She had a stick in her hand, the wand. But the principal didn’t do any magic with it; she just used it to point at the workers closest to her. “Who poisoned the children? Speak!”

  No one said a word. No one breathed.

  Quivering—with anger or weakness?—Ms. Threnody stepped forward and looked into Vasalisa’s eyes. “Was this your idea?” she murmured, and I saw Vasalisa fight not to answer. But her eyes clouded over, just like Bryan’s had in the office when she had spoken to him, and the answer came. “No.”

  She turned to another one of the staff. “Was it you?”

  “Wait!” The principal was looking at me with a strange expression. Was she going to scream at me . . . or cry? After a few seconds, she pulled herself together and barked out, “Don’t bother with them. Not a one of them has the gall to do such a thing. Ask her,” she ordered, and pointed at me.

  Threnody rounded on me, and the smell of dying fish and rotting seaweed enveloped me. “You, Lorelei. Tell me.” Her voice thundered like breakers on the beach. “Did you poison the children?”

  “Yes,” I said, not even bothering to look into her face. “I brought it from home, and put it in the desserts.”

  Threnody screeched and drew back her hand to hit me. But Principal Trapp said, “Stop,” and everything in the kitchen froze. Her face was turned away from me, like she was afraid of what I might say. Her hair was coming down from the bun she always wore it in. It made her look tired. “Why?”

  I took a deep breath. “I wanted to see if I was s-strong enough to be your d-daughter. I wanted to do something to show you I could—”

  She shook her head, cutting me off. “Threnody? I’ll need to borrow your gift.”

  Threnody nodded and slumped against the counter as the principal touched her lightly on the forehead with the wand. “Thank you. Don’t be frightened. The feast will restore you, sister.”

  I stepped back, wondering what was going to happen, but she held up one hand. “Tell me now, Lorelei. The truth.” She turned her face to me. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and my heart ached.

  Even though I knew she was evil, even though I knew she had done so many horrible things—planned to do worse—to people I loved, to children, I still remembered her hand on my hair, her smile. She had given me the love my family had taken away. She had paid attention to my pain. She had, in her own twisted way, cared for me.

  “Lorelei, answer me.” She stared into my face, her expression cruel.

  And then, there in her eyes, I saw something I had never seen before. I saw my death.

  I stopped breathing. All along, I had thought she loved me. And I had loved her. So I’d wanted to blame Ms. Morrigan, Ms. Threnody—anyone else. Even when I knew she was a witch, I had imagined that she wouldn’t do anything to me. Wouldn’t hurt me. I had even hoped I could change her.

  What was the saying—love is stronger than anything? Even stronger than evil? My eyes burned with unshed tears. No, that wasn’t it . . .

  Love is blind.

  It was true. I hadn’t wanted to see what was right in front of me.

  “What were you planning to do after you poisoned them?”

  “I was planning to come to your office,” I heard someone say, far away. It was me, answering.

  “And what were you planning to do there?”

  “I was planning to tell you I wanted to be your student,” I said. “That I wanted to learn from you.”

  “Truly?” The whisper was hesitant, a doe sipping at a pond, a fledgling sparrow perched at the edge of its nest. “You . . . you care for me?”

  The word “no” sprang to my lips, but I held it back, just barely. I reached into that raw, hungry part of my heart, that part I wished wasn’t there. The part of me that had been alone, unappreciated, unloved, for so long, until she had chosen me.

  Oh, if only she could have been good. I would have followed her in a heartbeat.

  But she was not good. She was evil, and twisted . . . and part of me loved her anyway, because she had made me feel loved.

  I forced the word out, pushed past the desire to tell the easy truth, and told the harder one, the deeper one instead. The truth that made no difference anyway. I was still going to have to hurt her, like I had hurt my mother. Did I care for her?

  “Yes.”

  She leaned close and wrapped her arm around me, like I was her treasure. “I’m so glad,” she whispered. “I’m so very, very glad. I didn’t want you to miss tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Alva and Threnody and I have a special meal planned. One that will help us all regain our strength. We had planned on feasting this afternoon, but your little maneuver with the poison has left us with no option but to wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “Well, of course,” she said, tapping her wand against her chin thoughtfully. “The students will all be out sick. All except the one boy who stayed home. That was a stroke of luck! He’ll be here tomorrow with you.”

  Andrew.

  She paused. “Perfect. I’ll let you be a part of the ceremony. You’re ready for it, I think. And if you feasted with us . . . no. Too soon. And there’s really only enough for three. But maybe . . . You could help us make the meal.” She held me close, her fingernails running over my arms, like I was her pet. “Yes, you’ll help us cook. What a day we’ll have.” Her nails stopped at the crook of my elbow and dug in, like she’d found a spot she wanted to pierce. “Of course, this is our little secret, you understand, sweet Lorelei. Let’s keep it that way, hmm?”

  “Who would I tell?” I murmured. She laughed softly, and her fing
ers unclenched. She had to know I wouldn’t tell anyone. No one who mattered would listen anyway. We both knew there wasn’t an adult in the world who would believe this story. Not like Andrew had.

  I had told Andrew to stay home, and he hadn’t been poisoned. The principal had enough magic left to force him into the soup pot, I was sure. He could not come to school tomorrow.

  I had to warn him. I couldn’t wait to get home, so I could do just that. Once I knew he was safe, I would run, too. I would pack my stuff and sneak out after dinner. The kitchen staff could take care of powerless witches, I hoped, as long as they didn’t have any food. All I had to do was warn Andrew.

  Piece of cake, right?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:

  IMPRISONED

  I had forgotten to plan for the witch I lived with: Molly.She locked me in. The one night when it was honest-to-goodness life or death that I be able to get out—to call Andrew, to run away—I got home to find my stepmonster had installed a deadbolt lock on the outside of my room.

  “What in the—” I started, but Molly held up one manicured hand.

  “Not a word.” She folded her arms. “I’m going to speak to your father about this, and I know he’ll agree with me. This is for your own good, and the good of the family.”

  “What are you talking about?” I threw my backpack on the floor, and Molly’s eyes widened when one of the empty medicine bottles rolled out of the half-opened zipper and onto the carpet.

  “You have the nerve to question me, when the evidence is right here?” She reached down and finished unzipping the bag. She came up with three bottles in her hand. “You’re sneaking out, talking on the phone to strange kids in the night? Then you’re stealing medicine and taking it to school?” She stepped closer. “Every kid in the school got sick except you, Lorelei. Every kid in the school, including your own brother. Did you think I wouldn’t put it together? How could you do it?”

  I repeated my question, louder. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t act innocent. Your dad’s been buying that act for years, but I’ve told him—the bad grades, the attitude, the running off. You’re hanging out with a bad crowd. But I never thought you’d do something like this.”

  I yelled it the third time. “What are you talking about?”

  She raised her hand, and for a minute I thought she was going to slap me across the face. I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow to fall, but all I heard was her angry question. “Why, Lorelei? You poisoned your classmates with my diet pills. Was it some sort of gang initiation? A bunch of those older kids I’ve seen in the neighborhood? You’re lucky”—she grabbed my arm—“I’m not calling”—she shoved me into my room—“the police!”—and slammed the door.

  I heard the lock slide into place.

  “Don’t even bother asking to come out, you little monster,” she yelled through the door. “I’m going out. Your dad’s got a late meeting, and your brother’s sick as a dog, thanks to you. He’s asleep. Don’t wake him up.”

  Don’t wake him up? She was the one yelling at the top of her lungs. But I didn’t bother to point that out.

  “What about dinner?” I yelled back instead. “Are you going to starve me to death?”

  “That school of yours feeds you twice a day, Lorelei. You’ll live until breakfast.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that; I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. My stomach felt like it was going to cave in.

  As soon as I heard her car pull out of the garage, I ran to my window. It wasn’t a long drop to the ground; I would get Bryan’s skateboard and . . . oh, crud. The window had been locked shut from the outside. And more than that—the lock was attached to some kind of a metal bar that went across the pane.

  Wait. A metal bar?

  For a minute, it didn’t register. Who had done this? Dad? A handyman? Then I realized it had to have been Molly.

  My own dear stepmonster had crawled up a ladder and installed a lock on the outside of my window.

  I yanked at the window anyway. There must be some way to warn Andrew in time. Some way. My stomach growled, and I realized I needed something to eat.

  Bryan was home; he would help me. “Bryan!” I yelled as loud as I could, and pounded on the wall between our rooms. “Bryan, can you hear me? I need you!” I heard moaning, so I kept pounding. “Bryan! Let me out!”

  “Shut up, Lorelei,” he mumbled back. “I’m sick.”

  “And I’m starving to death! Let me out, and I’ll bring you a Sprite or something.”

  I heard footsteps, and then saw a dark space on the carpet at the bottom of the doorframe. “Thanks, Bryan,” I said, and waited for the bolt to click open.

  But it didn’t. Instead, something crinkled on the floor. I leaned down. It was packets of saltine crackers. Bryan had shoved them under my door.

  “Jeez, Lorelei,” he muttered. “I heard Molly yelling. You poisoned us? The whole school?” A pause. “Me?”

  “I had to, Bryan,” I explained desperately. “I know it looks bad. But it was all I could think of.”

  The silence stretched into a minute, until finally, I heard him move away. “Maybe Molly’s right about you.”

  I wanted to shove the crackers back at him, but I thought better of it. I carried the packets to my bed and opened them carefully, sucking every last salty crumb from the wrappers before I threw them onto the rug. Then I started looking for something to break down my door.

  The phone rang a thousand times—probably the neighbors asking why they kept hearing a girl screaming her head off all evening long—but no one came to my rescue. Bryan must have turned a horror flick up to full volume, because soon I heard chainsaws and screaming louder than I could manage drowning out my shouts. My voice was gone, my nails shredded from trying to pry the windows out of their frames, and my feet sore from kicking at the door.

  Sobbing, I crawled onto my bed and curled my body around a pillow. I sank into despair, one thought whirling in my mind: Tomorrow, Andrew would die.

  When my stomach stopped aching, I sank into sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

  RUNNING AWAY

  “Lore-lore?” Dad opened my door quietly and sat on the edge of my bed. “You awake?”

  I opened my eyes. It was early the next morning.

  Dad’s eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d been crying. “I’m sorry, Lore,” he said. “I don’t know why Molly did that. She said—she said some pretty bad things.”

  I’d woken in the night to the sound of their fighting. When Dad had started in on Molly about the dangers of fire hazards, accusing her of child abuse, I’d fallen back to sleep, relieved—Dad had seen it at last, figured Molly out. It was all going to be all right.

  I wondered if he was going to ask about the medicines, but he didn’t. He surprised me. “I was talking to your brother a few minutes ago.”

  I glanced toward the door and managed a scratchy “He’s okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. Stomach’s still a little iffy and he’s going to stay home from school today. He said”—Dad paused, and furrowed his eyebrows—“he said you’ve been having a hard time with your schoolwork. The writing thing.” I nodded, though my schoolwork was the least of my troubles. But thank goodness Bryan was going to stay home. Hopefully the rest of the students would have to as well.

  Dad wiped the back of his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry, Lore. I should have gotten you some help before now. It’s just, with your Mom, and then meeting Molly, and my work being touch-and-go . . .” He sighed. “There’s no excuse. But . . . I’ll get you some help, okay?”

  “Okay,” I rasped. He reached out to hug me. We both cried for a few minutes as he rocked me. He pulled back, and I saw his bleak expression—the expression I had put there.

  “Just . . . just don’t do anything dangerous,
Lore. No more hurting yourself, or . . . hurting other kids. No more cries for help, okay? I heard you. I’ll get you the help you need.”

  The help I needed? I almost laughed. He would never believe what kind of help I really needed.

  He stood up abruptly and crossed to the door. “I’ll get these locks off your room tonight, Lore. And we’ll talk then. I have to go now. Love you.”

  “Dad!” I called out, but he was gone. I knew he wouldn’t believe me, but I should have tried to tell him.

  It was too late now. I got up and got ready for my last day of school.

  Maybe my last day of anything.

  Molly drove straight through the strange, wispy cloudbank that had gathered around the school, in silence as usual. Her makeup was smeared below her eyes, like she’d forgotten to take it off the night before. She’d skipped lipstick entirely, and her lips were gray-white and pinched, with fine wrinkles radiating out from them. She stopped the car at the crosswalk, and I peered through the fog at the school. The front doors blended into the mist like the opening to a trapdoor spider’s lair. Actually, from the silence of the school and the lack of other kids or cars in the parking lot, it seemed the whole student body was safe.

  Except me.

  Molly let me out at the intersection, instead of at the front door, probably to get rid of me sooner, but I didn’t complain. My hands were shaking so hard, I could hardly manage the door handle. Eventually, I got the door open, and Molly peeled away in a squeal of tires that echoed the internal scream I’d been suppressing.

  One painful, heavy step at a time, I managed to move away from the curb. I took a deep breath as I reached the sidewalk and let my gaze wander toward the place I least wanted to be in the world. The red brick looked as cheerful as ever, the whole school as neat and normal as the first day I’d seen it. Strange, I thought as I walked toward the building. There were more trees today, all around the soccer fields. They hadn’t been there the day before. Had they?