uppose mine glows green or brown or something?” Sophie yawned, scratching her legs. Everything in the Malice Common Room was made of burlap—the floors, the furniture, the curtains—like some barbarous itch chamber. “I’m not doing it if it clashes with my clothes.”

“Just focus on an emotion!” barked the roach on her shoulder. “Like anger. Try anger.”

Sophie closed her eyes. “Is it glowing?”

“No. What are you thinking about?”

“The food here.”

“Real anger, you oaf! Magic comes from real feelings!”

Sophie’s face scrunched with effort.

“Deeper! Nothing’s happening!”

Sophie’s face darkened and her fingertip flickered hot pink.

“That’s it! You’re doing it!” Agatha hopped excitedly. “What are you thinking about!”

“How infuriating your voice is,” Sophie said, opening her eyes. “Should I think about you every time?”

For the next week, the Malice Common Room turned into a cockroach’s night school. The Mogrify spell only lasted three hours, so Agatha worked Sophie like a slave, driving her to make her fingerglow stronger, to fog a room and flood a floor, to tell a Sleeping Willow from a Weeping Willow, and to even say a few words of Giant. Sophie’s ranks immediately improved, but by the fourth day, the long nights had taken their toll.

“My skin looks gray,” Sophie croaked.

“And you’re still ranked 68, so pay attention!” berated the roach on her book, swan crest glistening on abdomen. “The Woodswide Plague began when Rumpelstiltskin stamped so hard the ground cracked—”

“What made you change your mind? About helping me?”

“And from the ground, a million poisonous bugs crawled out and infested the Woods, sickening scores of Nevers and Evers,” Agatha said, ignoring her. “They even had to close this school, since the bugs were highly contagious—”

Sophie flopped back on the couch. “How do you know all this?”

“Because while you stare in mirrors, I read Poisons and Plagues!”

Sophie sighed. “So they closed the school for bugs. Then what happ—”

“This is where you’ve been sneaking to?”

Sophie swiveled to Hester at the door in black pajamas, flanked by Anadil and Dot.

“Homework,” Sophie yawned, holding up her book. “Need light.”

“Since when do you care about homework?” said Hester, looking greasier than ever.

“Thought beauty was a ‘full-time job,’” mimicked Anadil.

“Rooming with you is such inspiration,” Sophie said, smiling. “Makes me want to be the best villain I can be.”

Hester eyed her for a long moment. With a growl, she turned and led the others out.

Sophie exhaled, blowing Agatha off the couch.

“She’s up to something,” they heard Hester snarl.

“Or she’s changed!” piped Dot, waddling behind. “Roach on her book and she didn’t even notice!”

By the sixth night of schooling, Sophie had risen to #55. But each new day, she looked more like a zombie, skin sickly white, eyes glassy and bruised. Instead of a fancy new frock or hat, now she loped around with dirty hair and a wrinkled dress, trailing study notes all over the tower like bread crumbs.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Tedros mumbled to her during Yuba’s lesson on “Insect Cuisine.”

“Too busy trying not to be the ‘worst girl in school,’” Sophie said as she took notes.

“Insects are often available when meerworms are not,” Yuba said, holding up a live cockroach.

“Look, you can’t expect anyone to listen to you when you’re ranked lower than Hort,” Tedros whispered.

“When I’m #1, you’ll ask me to forgive you.”

“You get to #1 and I’ll ask you anything you want,” he snorted.

Sophie turned to him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“If you’re still awake.”

“First remove the inedible bits,” Yuba said, and tore off the roach’s head.

Agatha shuddered and hid behind a pine shrub the rest of the lesson. But that night, she almost jumped from her thorax when Sophie told her what happened with Tedros.

“Everboys always keep their promises!” she said, bouncing on knobby roach legs. “It’s the Prince Code of Chivalry. Now you just have to get to #1 and he’ll ask you to the … Sophie?”

Sophie answered with a snore.

By the tenth day of Cockroach College, Sophie was only at #40 and the circles under her eyes were so black she looked like a raccoon. By the next, she’d slipped back to #65 when she napped during Lesso’s test on Nemesis Dreams, fell asleep during Henchmen, knocking Beezle off the Belfry, and lost her voice in Special Talents for another low rank.

“Your talent is progressing,” Sheeba said to Anadil, who managed to make her rats grow a full five inches bigger. Then she turned to Sophie. “Here I thought you were our Great Witch Hope.”

By the end of the week, Sophie was the worst villain in school again.

 

“I’m sick,” Agatha said, coughing into her hand.

Professor Dovey didn’t look up from her parchment-strewn desk. “Ginger tea and two slices of grapefruit. Repeat every two hours.”

“I tried that,” Agatha said, increasing the volume of her coughs.

“Now is not the time to miss class, Agatha,” Professor Dovey said, stacking papers under sparkling pumpkin weights. “Less than a month before the Ball and I want to make sure our fourth-ranked student is prepared for the most important night of her young life! Do you have an Everboy in mind?”

Agatha exploded in a paroxysm of hacks. Professor Dovey looked up, alarmed.

“Feels like … plague,” Agatha wheezed.

Professor Dovey went white.

Quarantined in her room, Agatha the Roach now accompanied Sophie to all her classes. Tucked behind Sophie’s ear, she whispered the first sign of a Nemesis Dream (answer: tasting blood), steered Frost Giant negotiations during Henchmen, and told Sophie which scarecrows were Good or Evil in Yuba’s Forest challenge. On the second day, she helped Sophie lose a tooth in Uglification, match monsters during Sader’s exam (Lalkies: sweet-talkers; Harpies: child eaters), and determine which of Yuba’s beanstalks was poisonous, which was edible, and which was Dot in disguise. There were hairy moments, of course. She almost ended up on the bottom of Hester’s clump, barely survived a hovering bat, and nearly turned back into herself in Special Talents before finding a broom closet just in time.

By the third day, Agatha hardly glanced at her Good homework and spent all her free time learning Evil spells. Where her classmates struggled to make fingers flicker, she could keep hers glowing by thinking about things that made her angry: school, mirrors, boys. … Then it was a matter of following a spell’s precise recipe, and just like that, she could do magic. Simple stuff, nothing more than playing with water and weather, but still—real magic!

She would have been paralyzed by the incredibility, the impossibility, except that it came so naturally. Where the others couldn’t summon a drizzle, Agatha conjured thunderclouds in her room and splashed the odious murals off her wall with a squall of lightning and rain. Between sessions, she stole into bathrooms to try out new Spells for Suffering—the Lights-Out Jinx to briefly darken the sky, the Sea Swell Curse to summon a giant wave. … Time evaporated when she studied Evil, so rife with power and possibility, she could never get bored.

While waiting for Pollux to deliver her Good homework one night, Agatha whistled while she doodled—

“What pray tell is that?”

She turned to Pollux in her doorway, head on a hare’s body, staring at the drawing.

“Oh, um, me at my wedding. See, there’s my prince.” She crumpled the page and coughed. “Any homework?”

After chastising her for slipping in the Ever ranks, explaining every assignment thrice, and berating her to cover her mouth when she coughed, Pollux finally left in a circus of hops and falls. Agatha exhaled. Then her eye caught the crumpled doodle of herself flying through flames and she saw what she’d been drawing.

Nevermore. Evil paradise.

“We have to get home,” she mumbled.

By the end of the week, Agatha had led Sophie on a magnificent winning streak in all her classes, including Yuba’s Trial Tune-Ups. In these one-on-one duels to prepare for the upcoming Trial by Tale, Sophie beat every person in her group using approved spells, whether stunning Ravan with a lightning bolt, icing Beatrix’s lips before she could call for animal help, or liquefying Tedros’ training sword.

“Someone’s been doing their homework,” Tedros said, agog. Hidden under Sophie’s collar, Agatha blushed with pride.

“Before it was dumb luck. This is different,” Hester griped to Anadil as they bit into a lunch of charred cow tongues. “How is she doing it?”

“Good old-fashioned hard work,” Sophie said, swishing by in shimmering makeup, ruby-red hair, and a black kimono, sparkling with gems that spelled “F is for Focused.”

Hester and Anadil choked on their tongues.

By the end of the third week, Sophie was up to #5 and her Lunchtime Lectures had resumed due to popular demand. So had her black-robed fashions, bolder and more extravagant than before, in a grand pageant of scalloped plumage, fishnet bodices, faux monkey fur, sequined burkas, leather pantsuits, powdered wigs, and even a chain-mail bustier.

“She’s cheating,” Beatrix hissed to anyone who would listen. “Some rogue fairy godmother or time-turning spell. No one has time to do all this!”

But Sophie had time to design a satin jumper with matching nun’s wimple, a sparkled clamshell dress, and matching shoes for every new look. She had time to beat Hester in the “Uglify a Ballroom” challenge, write a report on “Wolves vs. Man-Wolves,” and prepare Lunchtime Lectures on “Wicked Success,” “Ugly Is the New Beautiful,” “Building Your Body for Sin.” She had time to be one-girl fashion show, rabble-rouser, rebel priestess—and still wrestle her way past Anadil to #2 in the rankings.

This time Beatrix couldn’t stop Tedros from falling for Sophie. But Tedros tried valiantly to stop himself.

She’s a Never! So what if she’s beautiful? Or smart? Or creative and kind and generous and—

Tedros took a deep breath.

Evers can’t like Nevers. You’re just confused.

He felt relieved when Yuba hosted another “Good or Evil” challenge. This time the gnome turned all the girls into blue pumpkins and hid them in the forest’s voluminous patch.

Just find an Ever, Tedros scolded himself. Find an Ever and forget all about her.

“This one’s Good!” Hort yelled, and flicked a blue shell. Nothing happened. The other boys couldn’t tell the difference between pumpkins either and started debating the merits of each.

“This is not a group assignment!” Yuba bellowed.

Clinging to Sophie’s blue vine, Agatha’s roach watched as the boys split up. Tedros headed west towards the Turquoise Thicket and stopped. Slowly he turned to Sophie’s pumpkin.

“He’s coming,” Agatha said.

“How do you know?” Sophie whispered.

“Because that’s the way he looked at me.”

Tedros walked up to a pumpkin. “This one. This one’s an Ever.”

Yuba frowned. “Look closely first—”

Tedros ignored him, clasped its blue skin, and in a burst of glitterdust the pumpkin turned into Sophie. A “16” puffed in slimy green smoke over the prince’s head and a “1” in black over Sophie’s.

“Only the best Evil can disguise as Good,” Yuba commended, and with a wave of his staff, erased the red F off Sophie’s dress once and for all.

“And as for you, son of Arthur, I suggest you study your rules. Let’s hope you don’t make such a terrible mistake when it counts.”

Tedros tried to look ashamed.

“We can’t find any!” a voice called.

Yuba turned to see all the boys with low ranks smoking over their heads. “Should have marked them,” he sighed and waddled into the patch, jabbing pumpkins to see if they yelped.

With the gnome gone, Tedros let himself smile. How could he tell a teacher he didn’t care about rules? Rules that had led him to that god-awful Agatha twice? For the first time, he had found a girl who had everything he wanted. A girl who wasn’t a mistake.

“I’d say you owe me a question, son of Arthur.”

Tedros turned to find Sophie wearing the same smile. He followed her eyes to the Nevers scoreboard above the Forest, where Albemarle had pecked her name at the very top.

The next day, she found a note in her lunch pail.

 

Wolves don’t like foxes. Blue Brook at midnight. T.

 

“What does it mean?” she whispered to the roach in her palm.

“It means we go home tonight!” Agatha gushed, antennae beating so fast that Sophie dropped her.

 

The roach paced the mildewed burlap of the Malice Common Room floor, eyeing the clock as it ticked towards midnight. At last she heard the door open and Sophie entered in a seductive black sheath dress, accented with long black gloves, beehived hair, a necklace of delicate pearls, and black-tinted spectacles. Agatha nearly burst her carapace.

“First, I told you to be on time. Second, I said don’t dress up—”

“Look at these glasses. Aren’t they chic? Saves your eyes from the sun. You know, these Evergirls sneak me all sorts of things like this now, pearls, jewels, makeup to add to my ensembles. At first I thought they were Good Deeds, and then I realized, no, they just like seeing their things on someone more glamorous and charismatic. Only it’s all so cheap. Gives me a rash.”

Agatha’s antennae curled. “Just—just lock the door!”

Sophie bolted the latch. She heard a crash and spun to see Agatha red-faced, pale body wrapped in a burlap curtain.

“Um—must have mistimed it—” Agatha spluttered—

Sophie looked her up and down. “I prefer you as a roach.”

“There has to be a way to get new clothes when you turn back,” Agatha grouched, wrapping herself tighter. Then she saw Sophie fondling Tedros’ note. “Now listen, don’t do anything stupid when you meet him tonight. Just get the kiss and—”

“My prince came for me,” Sophie mooned, sniffing the parchment. “And now he’s mine forever. All thanks to you, Agatha.” She gazed up lovingly and saw her friend’s expression.

“What?”

“You said ‘forever.’”

“I meant tonight. He’s mine tonight.”

They were both silent.

“We’ll be heroes when we get back to Gavaldon, Sophie,” Agatha said softly. “You’ll have fame and riches and any boy you want. You’ll read about Tedros in storybooks for the rest of your life. You’ll have the memories that he was once yours.”

Sophie nodded with a pained smile.

“And I’ll have my graveyard and cat,” Agatha mumbled.

“You’ll find love someday, Agatha.”

Agatha shook her head. “You heard what the School Master said, Sophie. A villain like me can’t ever find love.”

“He also said we couldn’t be friends.”

Agatha met Sophie’s lucid, beautiful eyes.

Then she saw the clock and jolted to her feet. “Take off your clothes!”

“Take off my what?”

“Hurry! We’ll miss him!”

“Excuse me but I’m sewn into this dre—”

“NOW!”

A few minutes later, Agatha sat next to Sophie’s clothes, head in hands.

“You have to do it with conviction!”

“I’m naked behind an ugly couch. I can’t do anything with conviction, let alone make my finger glow and turn into a rodent. Can’t we pick a more appealing animal?”

“You’re five minutes from losing your kiss! Just picture yourself in its body!”

“How about a lovebird instead? It’s more me.”

Agatha grabbed Sophie’s spectacles, bashed them with her clump, and threw them over the couch.

“Want me to do the same to the pearls?”

THUMP.

“Did that work?” Sophie’s voice said.

“I don’t see you—” Agatha said, whipping around. “For all we know you turned yourself into a newt!”

“I’m right here.”

Agatha turned and lost her breath. “But—but—you’re—”

“More me,” Sophie breathed, a ravishing plush pink fox with sparkly fur, bewitching green eyes, succulent red lips, and a bouncy magenta tail. She clasped the pearl necklace around her neck and admired herself in a shard of broken glass. “Will he kiss me, darling?”

Agatha stared, mesmerized.

Sophie watched her in the mirror. “You’re making me nervous.”

“The wolves won’t bother you,” Agatha babbled as she unlocked the door. “They think foxes carry disease, plus they’re color-blind. Just keep your chest to the ground so they don’t see the swan—”

“Agatha.”

“What? You’ll miss hi—”

“Will you come with me?”

Agatha turned.

Gently, Sophie curled her tail around her friend’s hand. “We’re a team,” she said.

Agatha had to remind herself she didn’t have time to cry.

 

Sophie the Fox pattered quietly through the Blue Forest, past willow trees shimmering with sleeping fairies and wolf guards who shrank from her as if she were a snake. She skirted sapphire ferns and twisty oaks of the Turquoise Thicket before slinking to the top of the bridge overlooking a moonlit brook.

“I don’t see him,” Sophie whispered to the roach snuggled into her neck’s pink fur.

“His note said he’d be here!”

“Suppose Hester and Anadil played a trick—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Two blue eyes glowed in darkness across the bridge.

Sophie froze.

“Say something!” Agatha hissed in her ear.

Sophie couldn’t.

“I talk to myself when I’m nervous,” Agatha whispered.

“I talk to myself when I’m nervous,” Sophie said quickly.

A navy blue fox stepped out of the shadows, swan twinkling on its puffed chest.

“I thought only princesses get nervous. Not the best villain in school.”

Sophie gaped at the fox. It had Tedros’ tight muscles and half-cocked grin.

“Only the best Good can disguise as Evil,” Agatha intervened. “Especially when it has love to fight for.”

“Only the best Good can disguise as Evil,” Sophie said. “Especially when it has love to fight for.”

“So it really was a mistake all along?” Tedros said, circling her slowly.

Sophie flailed for words—

“I had to play both sides in order to survive,” Agatha rescued.

“I had to play both sides in order to survive,” echoed Sophie.

She heard Tedros’ steps stop. “Now, according to the Prince Code, I have a promise to fulfill.” His fur brushed against hers. “What would you like me to ask you?”

Sophie’s heart choked her throat.

“Do you see who I am now?” Agatha said.

“Do you see who I am now?” Sophie breathed.

Tedros was quiet.

He lifted her chin with his warm paw. “You do know this will throw both schools into upheaval?”

Sophie gazed into his eyes, hypnotized.

“I do,” whispered the roach.

“I do,” said the fox.

“You do know no one will accept you as my princess?” said Tedros.

“I do.”

“I do.”

“You do know you will spend the rest of your life trying to prove you’re Good?”

“I do,” said Agatha.

“I do,” said Sophie.

Tedros moved closer and their chests touched.

“And you do know I’m going to kiss you now?”

Both girls gasped at the same time.

As iridescent brook water lit up the foxes’ blue and pink faces, Agatha closed her eyes and said goodbye to this world of nightmares. Sophie closed her eyes too and felt Tedros’ warm, sweet breath as his tender mouth grazed her lips—

“But we should wait,” Sophie said, pulling away.

Agatha’s bug eyes flashed open.

“Sure. Course. Obviously,” Tedros stammered. “I’ll, um, walk you to your tunnel.”

As they walked back in silence, Sophie’s pink tail curled around his. Tedros looked at her and surrendered a smile. Agatha watched all this, swelling red. And when the prince finally vanished into his tunnel, she vaulted onto Sophie’s nose.

“What are you doing!”

Sophie didn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you kiss him!”

Sophie said nothing.

Agatha dug her pincers into Sophie’s nose. “You need to run after him! Go now! We can’t get home unless you kiss—”

Sophie brushed Agatha off her face and disappeared into the dark tunnel.

Writhing in dead leaves, Agatha finally understood.

There was no kiss because there would never be a kiss.

Sophie had no intention of them going home.

Ever.