by Shannon Hale
Despite the tackles and growls and howls and shouts, Raven had a strong suspicion that both the Hoods and the Wolfs were enjoying themselves. It was a shame, she thought, that they couldn’t let go of the old hatred and suspicion or they’d probably play this game for fun.
She strained to see Cerise, who was still running at the back of the Hood clan, unable to break through.
Grandma smiled, revealing toothless gums. “I love good competition. I tell ya, I don’t care if a Hood or a Wolf wins, so long as the game is fierce and dirty.”
A Hood or a Wolf, Raven thought. They won’t let Cerise win as a Hood. Even if she crosses the finish vine first, they’ll claim her win unfair because she has Wolf blood.…
Raven hexted Cerise without looking, not even a glance at her hand. Jack would have been impressed.
RAVEN: need to win both ways. snatch the most baskets & reach finish first. because ur both wolf & hood.
Cerise didn’t hext back. Probably because she was vaulting over a woman to escape a pursuing Wolf. But she raised her arm, as if waving to Raven, entered the forest at the side of the path…
And disappeared. Raven smiled. That cloak of Cerise’s gave her the ability to slide between shadows. Hexcellent. At least the Wolfs couldn’t spot her when she was in the forest.
And Hoods never entered the forest. After all, there were Wolfs in there. And now Cerise was one of them.
Then suddenly Cerise left the woods and streaked across the path. She leaped onto a Hood’s shoulders, knocking him to his knees, ripped the basket from his arm, and fled again.
This happened several more times: Cerise’s darting from the shadows of the forest, tackling a Hood, taking the basket, and escaping back into the shadows.
But the seventh time, someone followed her.
RAVEN: wolf on ur tail!
Immediately, Cerise turned back, vaulting over the head of Horribus Wolf. She was struggling to keep hold of ten baskets.
On the path, a Wolf snatched the last basket from the last remaining Hood. Cerise was dodging in and out of the forest, pursued by Horribus. The rest of the Wolfs surged down the path toward the finish vine. Raven quickly counted baskets.
RAVEN: u have the most bskts
RAVEN: run run run
Cerise left the forest and ran, a streak of red hood. The Wolfs howled and chased her. Horribus threw himself forward, reaching for her cape.
RAVEN: jump
Cerise jumped, launching herself forward, and Horribus narrowly missed. She was ahead of the pack, the howls and nips and growls on her heels. Raven had never seen anyone run so fast. Cerise should seriously go out for Track and Shield.
Horribus howled. A pack of wolves pounced. And Cerise ran just a little faster. She broke the finish vine in two, her arms full and rattling with baskets.
“I’m the first Hood to break the vine,” she said, breathing heavily. “And I’m the Wolf with the most baskets. I decide my own fate.”
Cranky Wolf and Brother Hood started to protest, but Grandma raised her hand.
“Have any of you ever seen a Basket Run as hexciting as that? Ever?”
The vanquished Hoods and beaten Wolfs shook their heads.
Grandma laughed and slapped her knee. “By my spectacles, that was something else, girl! You showed us what you’re made of, sure enough. Baskets of scones, you sure showed us.”
Red Riding Hood stumbled forward, her clothes dusty with dirt. She put out her arms and embraced Cerise.
“What’s going on here?” a low voice bellowed.
Mr. Badwolf, Raven’s General Villainy teacher, came running down the path. He stopped short. “Cerise! Your hood!”
He indicated her exposed head, and she shrugged.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she said.
Mr. Badwolf looked around, but no one was surprised to hear her call him Dad. Beneath his long hair and heavy beard, his eyes widened, his mouth opened.
“You mean…”
“They know. We held a Basket Run trial. And I won. I will not be banished.”
“I demand a recount!” Horribus Wolf growled.
Raven had followed Grandma down the watchtower ladder and heard her whisper now to Red, “You should go, before things turn ugly. I’ll try to soothe the snarls.”
While the Hoods and the Wolfs held a basket recount, Raven and Cerise’s family hurried away. They settled in the still-dark house behind the closed curtains. Red brought out mini pecan pies. For a time no one spoke. And then Mr. Badwolf asked, “You beat them all?”
Cerise nodded.
“Ten baskets,” said Red. “And she broke the vine.”
Mr. Badwolf smiled, sharp teeth peeking out. And then he laughed. He laughed so hard he howled, and Cerise joined in.
Mr. Badwolf told Raven about how, when Cerise was a baby, they had to wrap all the chair legs with rubber to keep her from gnawing on the wood. Cerise told them how tired she was of pulling back at school—running slower, throwing shorter, trying to hide her wolf-enhanced abilities. Red tucked a lock of white-streaked black hair behind Cerise’s wolf ear and smiled as if she was just as full of love as the pies were full of pecans.
And Raven was both happy and sad. Happy for Cerise and her family. And yet missing now more than ever a mother who could with a smile say how much she loved her. And a family that could sit around a table eating pie and feel content just being together.
Raven had never known that kind of a mother, that kind of a family. Still, she missed the one she had.
She pulled out her MirrorPhone and snapped a picture of Cerise with her dad and mom. Maybe the Hoods and the Wolfs would get used to the idea, and this family photo could be framed and hung on their wall for anyone to see. Maybe someday soon.
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” said Cerise. “I finally feel free.”
Red looked at Mr. Badwolf, who shook his shaggy head.
“Dad, please,” said Cerise.
“If Headmaster Grimm found out, things could get a lot worse,” said Mr. Badwolf. “I could lose my job for going off script, but even worse, your mother and I could be banished along with you.”
Cerise hung her head.
The alarm on Raven’s MirrorPhone beeped.
“We have to be back at school in fifteen minutes! And I haven’t visited the Candy Witch yet. Thanks, Mrs. Hood, Mr. Badwolf, but I’ve gotta go!”
She darted out the back door.
“Raven!” Cerise chased her. And caught up easily because, well, she was Cerise. “Raven, you are so awesome. Thanks for helping me stay hidden.…” She put her hood up. “For now.”
“But”—Raven gestured to the village—“won’t the news get out?”
“Hopefully not soon, not till my dad is ready,” Cerise said. “Hood Hollowers never talk to ‘outsiders,’ and most of them don’t have MirrorPhones, since they don’t trust all this ‘newfangled magic.’ So we’ve got time.”
“If anyone hears, it won’t be from me,” said Raven. “Your secret is safe.”
“It better be,” Cerise said with a smile, “or I will huff and puff and, I don’t know, blow your house in. Or something.”
“Can you do that?” Raven asked, impressed.
Cerise shrugged. “Probably. Huffing and puffing is in my DNA.”
Cerise hesitated, then lurched forward, gave Raven a stiff hug, and fled back into the house.
Raven called after her. “Everything will be okay!”
She wasn’t sure that was true, thinking of food fights and Headmaster Grimm and Wolfs tackling Hoods. But she hoped it was true. If things could start to turn around in Hood Hollow, maybe change was possible at Ever After High, too. And if this family could be fixed, maybe her own could be, too. Raven shook her head, not willing to think about things that might just make her sad.
She started the travel app, jumped into the well, and popped back out in a remote part of the Dark Forest, which bore as much resemblance to the Enchanted Forest near the school as Baba
Yaga did to Cinderella. Here, the trees were so tall they blocked out all sunlight, the needles on the evergreens a dim grayish green. Raven ducked as she walked to avoid the clutches of tentacle vines. A skinny squirrel scurried past, pausing just to hiss at her.
Beyond the wishing well waited an edible house. Clear sugar-pane windows, gingerbread walls, a taffy roof slowly stretching down, the eaves and windows outlined with colorful candy drops and striped mints. A few bites were missing around the edges, and rain had left pockmarks on the snickerdoodle roof tiles. A spider had spun a large, sticky web in the crook of a candy cane.
“Company!” An old woman threw open the graham cracker door. She wore a floppy black baker’s hat over her green hair, but her dress was powder pink and tied in back with a huge bow. The witch seemed to notice Raven’s gaze, and she smoothed her skirt.
“I thought this outfit might be less intimidating for company than a witchy wardrobe. I don’t get a lot of visitors. I can’t imagine why. Come in, precious, come in!”
Raven knew the witch’s daughter, Ginger, from school, and she was spella nice, not to mention a wicked good baker. Ginger’s mother couldn’t be as creepy as the story made her out to be.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay long,” said Raven, following her to the door. “Do you mind if I jump right in with a question? I’ve always been curious—how did you escape the oven after Gretel pushed you in?”
“Keep a rear exit on your oven, Miss Queen,” said the Candy Witch. “That’s my advice to fellow villains.”
Raven frowned. Didn’t that count as going off script? Hansel and Gretel’s witch was supposed to die in the story. Perhaps variations on the story were okay so long as they happened off the page. Then again, Red and Badwolf’s marriage had been off the page.
“Also, work on your cackle,” said the witch. “A good cackle and a good oven escape hatch will pay you back in spades.”
She cackled long and loud, then stopped suddenly, cocked her head, and asked, “Would you say you’d serve up better roasted with onions or simmered in a nice cream sauce?”
Raven gulped.
The witch cackled again. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Or am I…? Ha, you should see your face!”
“Um… may I ask: Why was it okay that you changed your story’s ending when you escaped the oven but others couldn’t? For example, if after the ball, Cinderella fell in love with the footman and ran off—”
The Candy Witch had just eaten a handful of peppermints, and she choked, spitting them out. “What? Never! Look, if I hadn’t lived, I couldn’t have had my own sweet Ginger, who will follow her destiny and become the next witch for Hansel and Gretel. Variations work, so long as they help the stories get retold as close to the original as possible.”
“I see,” said Raven, though she still didn’t quite. It didn’t seem fair that some people could alter their stories while others were trapped.
“Come into the kitchen.” The witch’s voice dropped low, rasping in her throat. “I’ll show you the oven.”
“I think I should… stay outside.…”
“Though, seriously,” the witch asked, tapping the wart on her chin and looking Raven up and down, “do you fit in a large roasting pan?”
It was then that the app alarm thankfully beeped.
APPLE! YOU LOOK…” RAVEN HESITATED, as if trying to find the right word. “You look… alarmed.”
Apple turned to the full-length mirror beside her wardrobe. Her golden hair was perfectly curled. Her round cheeks were perfectly blushed. Her cropped jacket and dress were perfectly tidy. But her expression was sort of stuck, as if she’d been recently screaming in terror.
“Yes, I ran into Briar,” said Apple. “On a cloud. At the top of the Beanstalk. On the wrong end of a bungee vine.”
“Ah,” said Raven.
They both stood there. Apple checked her fingernails. Raven squinted at a freckle on her arm.
“So, um, how was your Yester Day?” asked Raven.
“Well, I got to visit my mom,” said Apple.
“That’s nice,” said Raven. “That must be nice to get to visit her, you know, whenever you want.”
“It is,” Apple sighed. “But… well, I was supposed to come back with all my questions answered and the knowledge of how to fix this mess.”
“Yeah, me too,” Raven said, sitting on her bed.
Apple sat beside her. “Well… you could tell all your Rebel friends that you made a mistake and you want to follow your destiny after all.”
Raven rolled her eyes.
“Raven, without destiny, we get chaos!” said Apple. “Did you know that until yesterday, Ever After High Castleteria had never suffered through a single food fight? I looked it up.”
“Destiny prevents freedom,” said Raven. “And without freedom, how can anyone really be happy?”
“Destiny is freedom,” said Apple. “Freedom from worry and uncertainty. Lasting happiness comes from following our destiny.”
“I tried to follow my destiny for years, Apple. I tried to be evil for my mother’s sake, but I wasn’t happy doing it.”
“Oh, Raven…” Apple frowned. “You know, not one of the royals I visited today knew how to handle an unexpected situation. Happy or not, all of us are lost without destiny. And look at your mother. The Evil Queen went against destiny and took down Wonderland with her—and almost all of Ever After, too! Her rampage cost her her freedom and her life, and you lost your mother. By rebelling, she wasn’t just playing an evil role. She became the much more frightening destiny-less kind of evil. You say you don’t want to be evil like her, but by denying your destiny aren’t you following in her exact evil footsteps?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“Um… that was a rhetorical question,” Apple said helpfully. “The answer is yes. Yes, denying your destiny is following in her exact evil footsteps.”
“This isn’t a pop quiz, Apple. It’s my life.”
“And my life,” said Apple. “My destiny. And everyone else’s, too. Without the security of destiny, people get afraid. And when they’re afraid—”
“They throw porridge and pies,” said Raven. “I know. And I’m sorry. There has to be a way to rebel, to make our own choices, without hurting anyone.”
“I couldn’t find any answers today. No royal has ever faced unscripted things like food fights and angry mobs and chaos.”
Raven’s lips lifted into a half smile. “Well, except…”
Apple perked up. “Who? You know someone? I’m willing to talk to anyone.”
“Nobody, nothing,” Raven said, shaking her head. “Sorry.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“You were going to say your mother, weren’t you?” Apple said, her voice a whisper.
Raven looked up, eyes wide. “What? That, um, that’s not possible, you know, because she’s—”
“Gone forever,” Apple said. “I know it’s probably horrible for you, not just to have had an evil mom, but to have to deal with her being… oh drat, I shouldn’t even be talking about this, should I? It probably just comes across as my being mean again. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Raven said.
“You’re right, though. She certainly would have very different advice than any of the other Royals I spoke to!”
Raven groaned.
“There I go again,” Apple said. “You know, I think of myself as a sensitive person, but I just keep saying these things! Though, if she were here, I bet she’d guide you toward embracing your evilness.”
Raven stiffened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s funny, isn’t it,” Apple went on, “that the Evil Queen and I would give you the exact same advice?”
“She was a rebel,” said Raven. “She’d want me to rebel.”
“Not from your destiny. She’d want you to be evil.”
“What is being evil, though, really? Doing what people don’t like? If that’s true, then I’m
right there!”
“Being evil is like her,” said Apple, “and what she did in the Snow White story. Do that.”
“Yeah, okay, she wants me to be like her,” Raven said, standing. “But she also told me to give ’em hex, and to face Legacy Day head-on, brave and powerful, and show everyone what I’m made of. And what I’m made of is not evilness!”
“What do you mean?” Apple rose slowly. “What do you mean, she wants you to be like her? She told you all this when you were a little girl, right? She was talking to you about Legacy Day long ago, when you were little, before she died. Because she is gone forever, right, Raven?”
Raven clenched her jaw and looked away.
“Raven?” Apple said.
“I’m so sick of secrets,” Raven whispered. “I’m with Cerise. Secrets really huff and puff.”
“Raven, please, you’re kind of freaking me out. Just tell me that your mother is gone.”
Raven looked at Apple, and Apple had the distinct impression that Raven was readying herself to lie. But then her shoulders slumped, and Raven bowed her head and said, “I can’t do that, Apple.”
“Wait wait wait! What?” Apple backed away, looking around in terror. “Was that a joke?”
“No, she never died to begin with. Headmaster Grimm told everyone that so they wouldn’t worry, and I’m not supposed to tell. So you can’t tell anyone else, please. She’s actually in mirror prison. As a fan of security, you’d like it. No one’s ever escaped from mirror prison.”
Apple slowly sat back down, but the knowledge of the Evil Queen’s continued existence gave her cackling chills.
“Whoa,” said Apple. “The original Queen of Chaos. Alive.”
“You know, she was the most rebellious of rebels,” said Raven. “When everything was totally off-script—even though it was her own doing—she still managed to rule a kingdom and make her people love her and follow her. I bet she’d have advice for both of us on a Yester Day visit.”
“You aren’t suggesting… you don’t mean… we couldn’t really visit her, could we?” Apple asked, her voice shaking.