Ever After High

by Shannon Hale

  Also anyone to whom the R does not come

  naturally (pirates are okay).

  Sometimes her mother’s advice just didn’t make sense in context.

  “Friends would be aces,” Lizzie said.

  A gold padlock lying loose clicked open, lengthened, and widened into a girl of abundant golden curls. Her wide-set curious eyes looked around, and Blondie Lockes made a noise like the snuffle of a bear.

  “This is going to make the best MirrorCast show I’ve ever done!” she said.

  A pair of crystalline shoes flashed brightly in a ray of sunlight, a swirl of sparkling light slowly resolving into Ashlynn Ella. She blinked her large doe-like eyes twice before swooning into a graceful faint. Beside her, a sturdy tree melted into Hunter Huntsman, and he caught her fainting body in one hand and his ax in the other. From somewhere unseen, trumpets played a heroic fanfare.

  In midflight, a raven sprouted a head full of long purplish-black hair. She squawked and dived to the ground, alighting atop a red apple before her wings lengthened and narrowed into arms. She was fully back to being Raven when the apple sprouted back into Apple. Raven Queen was sitting on Apple White’s head.

  “You’re sitting on my head,” said Apple.

  “Um… how—” Raven started before wobbling and falling off, catching herself on a bright blue bicycle just as it changed back into Dexter Charming. No heroic trumpets played, but Dexter didn’t seem to mind.

  “Sorry, Dex! Thanks for breaking my fall,” said Raven.

  “No problem,” Dexter said, his face smooshed between her boot and the floor.

  Everything was reverting. Wall stones lost their wiggle, floors lost their hiss and spring. Windowpanes crawled back into their frames and returned to unmoving, unblinking glass.

  Even the Wonderlandians noticed slight changes, the ridiculous clarity in their brains shifting back to normal—rich and roiling with the sheer multitude of interesting things to think about, such as cabbages and kings; a large variety of hats; croquet; tea service; the best rhymes for oranges and spaghetti; and riddles like “Which came first: the chicken or the soup?” and “How much hedge would a hedgehog hog if a hedgehog could hog hedge?”

  “That’s such a good question, isn’t it?” Maddie said. She was sitting beside the Mad Hatter, his head on her legs, smoothing his white-streaked mint-green hair off his forehead. He was awake now, and although he looked tired, he was smiling around his huge teeth.

  “Indeed, my girl,” said her father. “How much hedge, indeed? They do so love to hog it, and who can blame them?”

  Watching it all was a real girl of warm brown skin and earnest brown eyes. She was the last to… oh, Cedar. I’m so sorry. I mean, the Narrator doesn’t say I or feel sorry for the characters. The Narrator only observes and reports. And the Narrator observed that Cedar Wood was changing, too. Ahem.

  Cedar felt it first in her skin. A hardening, a deadening, like water turning to ice. The change sank deeper, choking the breath in her lungs, dulling the butterfly sensation in her middle. Thump-bump, thump-bump, thump—The rhythm of her heart cut off midbeat, a song interrupted, and that fantastic warmness in her chest cooled. The chill exploded outward, tingling through her limbs down to the tips of her toes and fingers. Bruises disappeared, scratches mended, and at last the small cut on the tip of her index finger healed.

  Though the change felt as slow as the folding up of a comforter, it all happened so fast that Cedar’s wooden cheeks were still wet with tears by the time her wooden eyes could no longer cry. Her wooden nose still remembered the last real scent she’d smelled—Briar’s roses.

  “Cedar!” Raven clambered off Dexter and ran to give her friend a hug. “You helped save everyone! Thank you! I’m just sorry I never got to hug squishy Cedar.”

  “You will,” said Cedar. “Someday.”

  “Are you going to follow your destiny, then?” Raven asked.

  Cedar shook her head and heard her wooden neck creak in that old, familiar way. She sighed, a sad little huff of breath that left her wooden chest feeling empty. But she said, “Forcing things to be what they’re not is so not my style. I’m more convinced than ever that everyone should be able to choose their own path. And I’m going to talk to Headmaster Grimm about it immediately. Let the Royals be Royals and the Rebels be Rebels.”

  “But…” Raven lifted one of Cedar’s hands, running her finger across the wood grain of her knuckles.

  Cedar shrugged. Her joints felt loose, so she plucked spare pegs from her pocket and started screwing them into her elbows. “I used to think I was a piece of wood that just imagined myself a person. But now I think I’m a real person who just imagines myself made of wood.”

  Raven laughed. “That sounds like Wonderlandian logic.”

  “I’ve absorbed some of that, I think!” said Cedar.

  She tightened the peg in her knee and tried again to hold on to the real scent of roses. She could only imagine it, and, for now, that would have to be enough. She stood straight, feeling as strong as a tree, no ache or break in her limbs. Her pain gone, her injuries healed.

  Lizzie was standing and didn’t show any obvious injuries from the Jabberwock’s striking tail, but she looked dazed.

  “Hey, Lizzie? Are you okay?” Cedar asked.

  “I think I am generally sprained and significantly bruised, but, yes, I am okay.” Shuffle perched on her shoulder, squeaking. “Yes, Shuffle, so long as the Grove is okay, too.”

  “Oh, timbersticks, that’s right!” said Cedar. “Do you think the un-magicking fixed it, too?”

  “I hope so, but if not”—Lizzie looked down at her shoes as if embarrassed—“at least I still have my friends.”

  Cedar’s eyes widened, and she felt her mouth carve itself into a smile. It felt good. “If the Grove needs replanting, I’ll help you, Lizzie. We all will.”

  Daring was fuzz-free. He bore a bruise on his cheek, but he smiled at Lizzie, his teeth brilliantly white.

  Lizzie lifted one hand, posing as she had on the amphitheater’s stage. “I have returned, Boreas, wind-herder, to watch you writhing in the agony of age and death.”

  Daring laughed heroically. “What a battle. Bards will sing of my deeds! Or perhaps a pop singer. Do you listen to Katy Fairy?”

  “I do not!” Lizzie said grandly. “But I shall listen to her squalling posthaste as you are my friend, and friends recommend music to each other! Now, kneel.”

  Cedar was surprised to see Daring do so without argument.

  Through some twist of magic, Lizzie’s butter knife had enlarged with him, now as big as a sword. She picked it up, solemnly touching its flat side to each of Daring’s shoulders.

  “I knight you a defender of Wonderland, Sir Daring Charming. Heroic, loyal, fuzzy doom.”

  Cedar creaked a smile. She looked to Raven to see if she’d observed this odd new friendship and found Raven staring up. Cedar followed her gaze to the long ripple in the air, stretching from one side of the Grimmnasium to the other. The portal to Wonderland was closed, but it had been so large it left behind a scar of piercing white light.

  “Is it dangerous?” Cedar asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Raven held her hands up, sensing the air. “It does emit a magical energy, a kind of tingle that gives me chills. I feel like it’s about to—”

  “Students!” Headmaster Grimm’s voice shouted as the Grimmnasium door opened. He entered along with Baba Yaga and the other faculty from their field trip. “It appears our spell defeated the Jabberwock. Do not fear any longer.”

  Just then, the portal scar tightened, like lips pressed together. And then it exploded. The explosion was soundless, like a giant dandelion puffing out into glitter and dust. The windows blasted out, and the brilliant, glittery light burst as far away as Book End, raining sparkles and sighs over everything.

  “Uh-oh, sleepy time,” Briar said just before slumping to the floor.

  All over the Grimmnasium everyone from Professor Rumpel
stiltskin to Duchess Swan swooned into sleep. Everyone except Maddie, who looked as alert as ever.

  Maddie didn’t even fall asleep during the big Beauty Sleep Festival, Cedar found herself recalling as a sweet drowsiness poured over her. Maybe it’s all that tea.… Still as a tree, Cedar snoozed standing, the sprinkles of light raining over her face and arms with tiny pulses of heat and whispers of Hush, shush, hush, shush.…

  CEDAR BLINKED ONCE. SHE BLINKED TWICE. The light was gone.

  Cedar could not seem to remember why she was standing in the Grimmnasium. Or why most of her classmates were lying on the floor around her. Was this some kind of weird slumber party?

  Raven was blinking, too. She pushed herself onto her elbows, staring up at the empty air.

  “What are we doing?” Raven asked.

  “I feel like something happened,” said Cedar. “Like I was in the middle of an important thought and then… I don’t know.”

  “Why did I take a nap on the Grimmnasium floor?” Lizzie asked.

  “Welcome to my world,” said Briar, yawning.

  “What exactly is your world?” Lizzie asked.

  “Lots and lots of unexpected naps,” said Briar. “And lots and lots of unexpected parties. Ooh, we should have a party! You can come. I think. Wait… are we friends?”

  “I should think not,” said Lizzie. “My mother always said… friends are fiends and only pirates have arrrrrhs.”

  Briar raised one eyebrow. “Um… what?”

  “What are we doing in here?” Cupid asked, flying down from the branches of a pillar tree where she’d been asleep.

  “We came back early from the field trip,” Cerise said, rubbing her eyes. “My dad—I mean, the faculty said there was something wrong on the mountain. Mean bears or something? I can’t remember exactly.”

  “Right. But after that?” asked Cupid.

  “I don’t know,” Dexter said, removing his glasses to rub the sleep from his eyes. “We fell asleep, I guess. Must’ve been a busy day.”

  Maddie was standing with her fists on her hips, staring with wide eyes. “Are you all cuckoo clocks? We had an amazing adventure! We saved Ever After and danced with chairs and wrestled monsters… and… and… painted pictures!”

  “I’m sure we did, Maddie,” Raven said. “Dreams are cool that way.”

  “But… but… my dad is here!” Maddie said, pointing at her father, who was, indeed, by her side. The Mad Hatter waved.

  Cedar waved back. It seemed the polite thing to do, though she wasn’t sure what would be polite to a Wonderlandian. They rarely made sense to her.

  “Kitty!” said Maddie. “You must still be mindiful and memory-hoarding.”

  Kitty kept smiling, though her forehead scowled. “I had lots of dreams about… about the Jab—no! Nightmares!” She shuddered, her hair fluffing. Her eyes seemed a little sorry when she looked at Maddie and said, “But they didn’t really happen, Maddie. They were just dreams.”

  Maddie sighed, shrugged, and then twirled toward Cedar.

  “Happy snappy, my dreaming Cedar Wood! What was your don’t-remember-that-it-was-all-real dream?”

  Cedar didn’t usually remember her dreams, only the emotions that flowed from them. Whatever she dreamed during this strange nap was no exception—confusion and fear, elation and joy, and a lingering sense of hope for something that she wanted. Or didn’t. What did she want? She rubbed the tip of her finger and whispered, “I want to be real, but I want to choose my own story even more.”

  And it was true, because Cedar could not tell a lie.

  Cedar was sure Maddie was about to say something silly, but she didn’t. She just smiled.

  The headmaster was sitting up, rubbing his gray hair.

  “Students, why are all the kitchen appliances stacked in the corner of the Grimmnasium as if they had been practicing a cheerleading formation?”

  After much what happeneds and even more I don’t knows (except from Maddie), everyone headed through the school toward the Castleteria for dinner, discovering that nothing was where it belonged. It was as if every piece of furniture and clothing, and even a few doors, had sprouted legs and run away on their own two feet.

  “Which is precisely what happened,” said Maddie.

  The Narrator did not confirm or deny this assertion.

  Maddie sighed and stomped into the Castleteria. “This is more riddle-diculous than a bald rabbit!”

  “Hey, Lizzie,” said Cedar. “You know, I think I dreamed about you.”

  Lizzie closed one eye, squinting at Cedar with the one that was painted with a smeared red heart.

  “I am a princess of Wonderland. Many dream of me.” She sniffed. “But I think I dreamed of you, too.”

  “Do you want to maybe sit together in the Castleteria?” Cedar asked.

  Lizzie did not bother to respond. But as they walked down the hall, she slowed her usual brisk pace and kept in step with Cedar. Together they passed through the Castleteria doors.

  “I just had the oddest thought to check the doorframe for teeth, as if it might swallow us,” Cedar said.

  Lizzie didn’t answer. Cedar pressed her wooden lips shut, unsure if she’d said something awkward.

  But then Lizzie shouted, “I am fond of hedgehogs!”

  Cedar guessed that Lizzie was attempting to have a conversation. She smiled.

  “I am, too,” she said.

  THE MORNING OF THE TIARA-THALON DAWNED as pink as leprechaun tongues. Outside the Grove, the students of Ever After High gathered, dressed in running, biking, swimming, or gardening clothes. Everyone was talking, pointing, examining the horrible damage done to Lizzie’s precious garden—plants wilted and gray, great claw marks slashed through the grass, trees tipped over, roots exposed. Several students gathered around the sole remaining fluxberry bush, marveling how the berries constantly shifted in color—green one moment, then twinkling into a twilight blue, magic yellow, butterfly-wing pink…

  “Listen up, everybody!” said Apple White. She wore sporty white capris, a red Ever After High T-shirt, and gold-trimmed gardening gloves. “The race will begin and end at the Grove. Runners take off from here to the lake. After getting the relay scrolls from the swimmers, the bikers cross the finish line back here, where we’ll all spend the afternoon working in Lizzie’s wonderlandiful Grove. As the Tiara-thalon’s sponsor, the Glass Slipper has generously donated gardening tools.”

  “The store’s owners were enchanted to help when they heard about Lizzie’s plight,” said Ashlynn, who worked there during after-school hours. She was surrounded by a horde of hovering pixies from the Enchanted Forest who’d come to lend a tiny hand.

  “How charming!” said Apple. “Lizzie will show us how to replant the uprooted trees and extract seeds, shoots, and stem cuttings from the surviving plants to regrow the ones that were lost.”

  Lizzie stood at the head of the crowd, holding her scepter regally, her chin up, eyes distant. But inside, Lizzie’s very large heart felt pinched. Her beautiful Grove ravaged! Some creature must have attacked Ever After High during their mysterious Grimmnasium nap, though besides some torn clothing and misplaced furniture, the only sign of damage was in her Grove.

  Cedar Wood put a hand on Lizzie’s elbow and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you, Lizzie. We all will.”

  Lizzie felt certain she’d heard those words before. “Off with your head,” she whispered back in the same tone someone else might say Thank you.

  “Let’s get this running, swimming, biking, planting party started, already!” said Briar. “Athletes, get in position! Hey, Lizzie, want to help me start the race with my glitter-bomb catapult?”

  Lizzie’s upper lip trembled with the effort to keep stiff. She very, very, very much wanted to help with the glitter-bomb catapult. But would that be unseemly? “Off—” she started.

  “Oh, just help me set it up, already,” said Briar.

  Lizzie dropped a round, brilliantly colored glitter bomb into the launchin
g cup.

  “You do the honors,” Lizzie said. “You know, in case it misfires.”

  “YOLOUAT!” Briar yelled. “You only live once upon a time!” She pulled the lever.

  The glitter bomb flew high over the heads of the crowd and exploded into a million pieces of glitter sparkling in the morning sun.

  “Ooooh,” noised the crowd in unison.

  The runners took off.

  “It worked!” Briar hooted. “They love it!”

  “They are easily impressed,” Lizzie said, and then grabbed another glitter bomb. “Let’s do it again.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Briar cranked the launch arm back. “Glitter bombardiers in the house!”

  Lizzie and Briar performed a glitter-bomb fist bump. Lizzie realized what she’d just done and pulled her hand behind her back. She must be cautious if she was to avoid accidentally becoming friends with anyone—particularly Briar, who had so many friends that soon Lizzie would be in danger of sinking on a friend ship. She knew what her mother would say about that.

  Briar pulled the launch lever, and another explosion of glitter cascaded over the crowd. Her laugh was loud and bubbly, and it made Lizzie want to laugh, too. Of course, her mother’s card warning about friendship also made that odd allowance for pirates.…

  “Briar,” Lizzie said, “have you considered sailing a big boat and perhaps stealing things from other boats?”

  “Um… you mean, like a pirate?”

  “Yes, exactly like a pirate,” Lizzie said. “I would be much more comfortable speaking with you if you were a pirate.”

  Briar put a finger to her chin, considering, and promptly glided to the ground, fast asleep.

  “Arrr, Lizzie Hearts! Have ye killed Briar Beauty?” a voice asked from behind.

  Daring Charming sauntered up and saluted her. He’d been so accommodating with her pirate request that Lizzie felt certain her mother couldn’t disapprove of their friendship.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be racing?” Lizzie asked.

  “No rush,” he said. “I always win. Even when I don’t.” He winked at her. “Ahoy, matey.”