by Joan Holub
“Threads class project gone awry?” he guessed, nodding toward her bag where she’d stashed the mapestry.
She was acting really guilty, she realized. She forced herself to relax and even managed a small laugh. “Exactly,” she told him. She swung the bag’s strap over her shoulder, shut her trunker, and locked its door with her key and the accompanying rhyme. “No one should see that mapest — I mean — tapestry project of mine. It’s a tragically hideous mess I’ll have to undo.”
His lips parted like he was going to speak. But before he could comment, she rushed on. “So what’s up? I was just about to meet my friends in the library. We’re getting new gowns especially for your ball. And we don’t have much time since it’s tomorrow, so …” She started sidling away. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang with Prince, it was just that she really needed to go show the mapestry to her Grimm girl friends and get some advice. Maybe one of them would have a good idea of how to follow the enchantress’s wishes.
“Wait. Before you go, there’s something I need to show you first over in Gray Castle,” Prince told her. “Please? You won’t be sorry.”
Seeing how earnest he was, Snow gave in and followed him down the hall toward the far side of the Academy. He walked quickly to get wherever they were going, yet still managed to skillfully flip and catch his lucky coin over and over. He’d been sympathetic about the loss of her clover amulet when he’d finally noticed she wasn’t wearing it during Balls class earlier in the day. Was it possible he’d found it and wanted to surprise her with it?
Snow allowed herself to feel a spark of hope about that. “So where exactly are we going?” she asked as they neared the Gray Castle grand staircase.
“You’ll see,” he said with a mysterious grin. He pulled a piece of vellum paper from his pocket, consulted it, and then started up the stairs. “C’mon.”
It had looked to her like there was a simple hand-drawn map on the paper. Strange. She had no idea what was going on or where they were going. When they reached the fourth-floor landing, Prince pushed through the door and started down the hall. Snow hesitated to follow him. This was where all the teachers at the Academy had their living quarters. She caught up with him just as he stopped — right in front of the door to her stepmom’s rooms!
“We’re here!” he announced with a broad smile. Then to her astonishment and horror, he knocked on the door.
She started backing away. “Wait. What’s this all a —”
But before she could finish, her stepmom threw open the door. “Happy Birthday!” Ms. Wicked and Prince called out to Snow at the same time.
She stared back and forth between them in confusion. “But it’s not my bir —”
“Thanks for bringing her,” interrupted Ms. Wicked. She beamed at Prince. Then before Snow could say another word, her stepmom reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside. Then she shut the door in Prince’s surprised face.
Snow clutched her bag to her chest and stared at Ms. Wicked in disbelief. “You told him it was my birthday? It’s not. Why would you do that?” Her birthday wasn’t for several more months.
Her stepmom shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”
Snow frowned. “You couldn’t have just asked me to come by?”
“Would you have?” Her stepmom arched an eyebrow, pouting. “You always make excuses not to visit. Sometimes I think you go out of your way to avoid me.”
Snow said nothing. It was an accusation she couldn’t exactly deny. She did try to avoid her stepmom whenever she could. And besides, this apartment was creepy. The walls were hung with mirrors of all sizes and shapes, big and small, round and narrow. Nary a single inch of wall was without one. It made Snow’s skin crawl.
Ms. Wicked pointed toward a black-and-white striped couch. “Have a seat. I think it’s time for a little heart-to-heart chat.”
Despite Snow’s misgivings — for one thing, she wasn’t convinced her stepmom had a heart — she sat down on the couch next to her stepmom’s big, strange, stylish purse. Luckily, Magic, her stepmom’s enormous black cat, was nowhere in sight at the moment. Snow liked Rapunzel’s cats, but she and Magic had never gotten along. That bratty cat had scratched and even bitten her dozens of times. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn that Magic was also a member of E.V.I.L.!
“Lemonade?” her stepmom offered, holding up a glass pitcher. There was a plate of delicious-looking cupcakes with glossy white frosting and rainbow sprinkles on the table beside it.
Hic! Hic! Just the smell of the tart lemonade was enough to start Snow hiccupping.
Ms. Wicked gave her head a shake. “Oops! Sorry. I almost forgot you’re allergic. No fruit.” She set the pitcher down on the ebony coffee table in front of the couch but continued to stand, looming over Snow.
Snow fidgeted. “S’okay. I’m not thirsty, anyway,” she said, wondering what her stepmom really wanted. She didn’t buy the “heart-to-heart chat” for one second. “I can’t stay long. My friends are waiting for me in the library to pick out our gowns for tomorrow’s ball.”
“Oh, how nice. You should avoid getting something with lots of sparkles, though,” Ms. Wicked advised.
“Why? I like sparkles,” Snow said.
“Yes, I know, dear,” her stepmother said with a smarmy sort of smile that bordered on a smirk. “But they’re just so … vulgar. When you wear them, it’s like you’re shouting out, ‘Look at me!’” Her critical eye scanned Snow up and down. “And it might be best not to draw too much attention to your unfortunate figure, sweetie. Don’t you agree?”
In the past, such remarks would have made Snow crumple. They would have reduced her to a quivering mass of jelly. But now she sat bolt upright. She didn’t need to take this. She’d had it with her stepmom’s criticisms. A new spark of confidence welled up inside her and came tumbling out in her words.
“No, I don’t agree,” she replied firmly. “I feel pretty when I wear sparkles. And that’s all that matters.” It had felt so good to assert herself this way, that she went on. “In fact, I’m happy with all my choices,” she blurted out. “I like my clothes, my friends, and my whole life!”
A startled expression flitted across Ms. Wicked’s beautiful face. Then she seemed to recover. She smiled sweetly. “Maybe you think that I’m harder on you than on anyone else. Is that what’s got your feathers so ruffled? Well, it’s only because I care about you so much.” She hesitated, peering down at Snow through long black lashes, as if waiting to see what effect her speech was having.
Though Snow had vowed never, ever to trust her stepmom again, these words still tugged at her heart. Especially since they echoed what she’d been telling herself for years to make herself feel better. But if her stepmom expected her to fall into line again, and meekly accept every criticism she dished out, well, it just wasn’t going to happen. So Snow simply folded her arms, saying nothing.
Luckily, Ms. Wicked didn’t seem to notice her silence. She came closer. Facing the couch where Snow sat, she studied herself in the large, antique, gold-framed mirror that hung on the wall behind it.
Snow watched her stepmom’s face as Ms. Wicked patted her tall hairdo approvingly. Then she leaned down to her handbag on the couch and drew a bright red tube from it. As she began to freshen her lipstick, she spoke, changing the subject. “There are forces at this school that you know nothing about,” she told Snow lightly.
“You mean the E.V.I.L. Society?” Snow blurted. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth. Oops! But it had felt kind of good to finally say it. To get it out in the open, once and for all.
Surprise flashed across her stepmom’s face, but then quickly disappeared. Feigning innocence, she said, “I’m not sure what you mean. I believe such a society did exist around the time the Grimm brothers established the Academy, but it died out long ago.” She pulled a piece of tissue from a box on the coffee table, and then blotted her lips.
So much for openness, thought Snow. “Well …” She reached for her b
lue bag, intending to say good-bye and go. Her friends were waiting for her, after all. But as she reached for her bag, it fell over on its side. And the fake mapestry just popped out on its own and rolled open on the couch. It was almost as if it had been pushed out!
Instantly, Ms. Wicked pounced on it, snatching it up in her long fingers. “Where did you get this?” she demanded as her eyes roved greedily over the stitchery.
Improvise as best you can to get this into your stepmom’s hands, Grandmother Enchantress’s marble-message had said. Having no choice now, Snow concentrated on improvising an answer to Ms. Wicked’s question.
“My friends and I found it,” she said. Which was true, of course. “It’s a map, isn’t it? Do you think it could be valuable?” she asked, pretending to be clueless.
“It’s a mapestry,” Ms. Wicked said, surprising Snow with the truth. “It will lead to a treasure beyond your wildest dreams.”
Snow couldn’t believe it. Not only had her stepmom fallen for the fake mapestry, she’d decided to tell her about it! But why? she wondered.
“Grimmlandia is a small world,” said Ms. Wicked. Her voice had turned dreamy, almost as if she were talking to herself and had momentarily forgotten Snow. “But it could be larger. Much, much larger.” Her eyes brightened at the prospect.
“You mean if Grimmlandia expanded beyond the wall? But that wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing, would it?” Snow ventured. “What about the Dark Nothingterror?” Why was her stepmom telling her all this?
“Oh, that,” her stepmom said, flicking her fingers dismissively. “Forget all you’ve ever heard about it. The stories are pure fairy-tale nonsense. Believe me, there’d be nothing to fear if Grimmlandia merged with the Dark Nothingterror. In fact, it would broaden everyone’s horizons!”
“Your horizons are broadening a little too much, don’t you think?” a small voice snapped at Ms. Wicked. “Maybe you should lay off the cupcakes.”
Both Snow and her stepmom’s eyes flew to the couch again, where, for some strange reason, the silver hand mirror was now poking out of Snow’s bag.
“How dare you!” Ms. Wicked tossed the mapestry to the coffee table, then plucked the mirror from Snow’s bag. Holding it by its handle, she glared into it. “Normally, I adore talking mirrors, but where did you get this awful thing, Snow?”
“I, um, bought it at Old Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard,” Snow improvised. The Cupboard was a small market tucked in a corner of Pink Castle. “I’m, uh, trying to get over my fear of mirrors.”
“Well, it’s about time,” Ms. Wicked said with approval.
“Hey! I belong to Snow,” the mischievous mirror argued. “I’m not a plaything to be passed around willy-nilly!”
“You’ll do as I like, or you’ll be sorry,” Ms. Wicked threatened. She made as if to throw it against the wall. Snow half-rose to stop her. Luckily, for once, the mirror clammed up. Appearing pleased by its obedience, Ms. Wicked relaxed and studied herself in the hand mirror as she stood before her larger mirror on the wall. Relieved, Snow sank back down to the couch. Even if the mirror was a bit annoying, she still didn’t want to see it destroyed!
“Believe it or not, I’m hoping that you and I can be a team from now on,” Ms. Wicked continued to Snow. She fluffed her hair with one hand to make it stand up even higher above the sharp points of her tiara.
A team? Snow’s brow furrowed. Wasn’t that something she had longed for, too? For a few seconds she wondered if her stepmom could be right about there being nothing to fear from a merger between Grimmlandia and the Dark Nothingterror. Could the history in her Grimm Academy Handbook and Grandmother Enchantress be wrong after all? No. She just didn’t think so.
“I meant what I said yesterday about you being one of the best and brightest students at the Academy,” her stepmother said, still primping in front of the hand mirror. She smiled at Snow and her smile certainly looked genuine. Only, Snow wasn’t quite buying it. Not this time.
Ms. Wicked twirled around so that her back was to Snow. That way she could check the back of her hairdo by glancing in the hand mirror at her reflection in the big wall mirror. “Think of it,” she cajoled. “Just the two of us. Working together to find the treasure.”
At that moment, Snow caught sight of her stepmother’s reflection in the hand mirror. And she gasped. Because the look in Ms. Wicked’s eyes wasn’t kind and sweet at all. Instead it was hard and calculating, and the smile curving her lips was unmistakably cruel.
I can show you reflections of the truth whenever you’re uncertain what to believe, the magic mirror had said.
“We could work together to find you the perfect gown if you like, too. I want you to have a terrific time at the ball,” her stepmom went on. And though she sounded delighted at the idea, her reflection in the hand mirror — narrowed eyes and a sneering smile — revealed her true feelings. “Oh, I must say, I really can’t improve my appearance any further. Let’s just consult your little mirror on the matter and hope it has learned some manners by now. Shall we?” With that, she asked the mirror:
“Mirror, Mirror in my hand.
Who’s the fairest in the land?”
How many times had Snow heard her stepmom say these very words? And her mirrors always answered the same way, telling her stepmom that she was beautiful. Because she was, of course! Beautiful, but cruel.
The hand mirror began to speak its reply. But this time, the words it spoke were different from what all the other mirrors had replied:
“You were the fairest long ago.
But now it is the girl named Snow.”
Snow leaped to her feet. “What?”
At the same time her stepmom let out a little shriek. “Take your horrible, lying mirror away!” She threw it to the couch. It bounced, but Snow caught it before it could hit the floor and break. She tucked it into her blue bag.
An awkward silence fell. Snow didn’t have to see her stepmom’s reflection this time to guess how she really felt. Humpf! Her stepmom was jealous! Of her. She couldn’t just be happy for Snow even once!
“I really have to go,” Snow said in as calm a voice as she could muster. “My friends will be waiting for me.” She rose to her feet.
“Oh, certainly,” said Ms. Wicked, smoothing the hair at the back of her neck. She managed a smile. “I’m glad we had this little chat. And I’ll just keep the mapestry, shall I?” She nodded toward where it lay open on the coffee table. “I’m so looking forward to searching for the treasure with your help.”
Her help? No way! thought Snow. She wondered why Ms. Wicked didn’t ask Malorette or Odette to help instead. But then, in a flash, the most likely answer came to her. If they and the other members of E.V.I.L. didn’t know about the mapestry, her stepmother wouldn’t have to share the treasure with them if she did find it. She was so evil she’d even double-cross the E.V.I.L. Society!
“You can keep the mapestry,” Snow said. “But …” Hey! Why was her stepmom so ready to trust her to help with the treasure hunt, anyway? she suddenly wondered. But she had no answer.
“By the way, you and your friend Red might want to keep away from that boy Wolfgang,” Ms. Wicked went on.
Distracted by this, Snow set the matter of the treasure aside, “Oh? Why?”
Her stepmom frowned. “Let’s just say he comes from a bad family.”
Bad family? What about Snow’s own family? Had her stepmom looked in a mirror lately? Oh, wait, silly question. She never stopped looking in mirrors! Ms. Wicked probably thought what she’d said was true though. In her twisted view, Grandmother Enchantress was probably “bad.” Had she investigated Wolfgang’s family background and learned that the enchantress was his great-great-grandmother? That might explain why she’d become suspicious of him!
“No family is perfect,” Snow said carefully. “Well …” She took a step toward the door.
“Wait! I almost forgot,” Ms. Wicked said, snapping her fingers. She lifted the plate of rainbow-sprinkled cupcakes and he
ld it out to Snow. “Though it’s not really your birthday, I made these especially for you. Please do take one.”
“I’m not really hungry.” Seeing that her stepmom appeared ready to insist, Snow grabbed one anyway. “Okay, I’ll eat it on the way to the library. I really do need to go gown shopping now, though.” True to form, Ms. Wicked didn’t even bother to ask what kind of gown Snow planned to wear to the ball. Nor did she ask how she was doing in her classes, or anything about her friends. It was just sooo typical of her!
Ms. Wicked stepped between Snow and the door. “Don’t you want to try even one tiny bite before you go? It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t,” she said in a voice that Snow was sure had more sugar in it than the cupcake.
“Whatever,” said Snow. Her stepmother was pretty good at baking actually. She sniffed at the cupcake. Mmm. Cinnamony. She licked its frosting, which was grimmilicious. Finally, she opened her mouth and took a big bite.
Ms. Wicked smiled. “There. That should do it.” As she opened the door to let Snow into the hall, she added, “One day I’m hoping that you’ll come round to seeing things my way, dear girl. Because things may get pretty uncomfortable for you until you do.”
“Yeah,” said Snow. Of course, her reply made no sense, but she just wanted to get out of there and back to her friends!
However, as she climbed downstairs to the Great Hall she regretted that cupcake soon enough. Hic! Hic! Her skin began to feel itchy and hot. Hic! Hic! Grabbing the mirror from her bag, she held it in front of her.
Snow stared at her reflection in dismay. Hic! Hic! A blotchy red rash had broken out all over her face and neck and down her arms.
The mirror’s ghostly face appeared and gazed back at her, aghast. “Yikes!” it said. “No offense, but you’d scare a scarecrow.”
It was true. No way could she go to the ball tomorrow looking like this. Hic! Hic! Hic!
“Drat my stepmom! There must’ve been pieces of apple in that stupid cupcake!” she moaned. Suddenly, she remembered the prediction her Scrying class mirror had made only two days ago: