The early bird catches the worm. But if you sleep in, you can catch the early bird, and I bet he tastes better.

—TEENAGE WEREWOLF, TO HIS DAD

The next day, I sat beside Mistress Moira onstage, picking green sequins out of a multicolored pile. Professor Murphy charged up the runway, heading right for us with a look on his face I hadn’t seen since someone put an eyeball in his coffee.

“Higgins, what the blazes is this?” he said. He held my gift bag.

“Um . . . a gift bag?”

“This is what you came up with?” he said. He dumped the contents on a table next to Mistress Moira, calling out each item as he lined them up. “A jar of gourmet ogre jelly? You do realize that only ogres believe this to be gourmet? It’s made from something nobody would consider a fruit, and it’s infused with cockroaches.”

“I don’t read Ogre. I just thought the jar looked cool.”

“One Dr. Critchlore’s Tornado in a Can™—”

“Some of the bags could have Earthquake in a Can™, or Flood in a Can™,” I interrupted. “They’re fun at parties.”

Mistress Moira chuckled softly.

“A ring that looks like it came as a free prize in a box of cereal?”

“It’s a slingshot. That little ball on top of the ring shoots up to fifty feet,” I explained. “The mole person said that Dr. Critchlore uses them when meetings get boring.” Professor Murphy’s hand went to his neck. He had a small red scar just below his ear. He frowned at me and picked up the next item.

“So we have disgusting jelly, a cheap weapon, and a natural disaster. And we are planning to give this out to our elegant and sophisticated guests. Brilliant.”

“Thank you?”

Mistress Moira laughed again and then covered her mouth.

“I was being sarcastic. That’s another strike for you, Mr. Higgins. I’m giving this job to someone else.” He looked around the room.

“No, please, give me another chance,” I begged. “Did you like the bag? I told them to stitch the Critchlore crest on that.”

He looked at the bag, feeling its velvety softness. “The bag is fine. But you have to understand how important this is. The future of this school depends on us making a good impression with these ladies.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ll find better stuff. I’ll get a girl to help this time.” I guessed I didn’t really understand this task. Honestly, I still can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want a Tornado in a Can™.

“You have one more chance,” he said. He turned around and left.

I put the items back in the bag and pulled the drawstring closed. It was such a beautiful bag, but I had no idea what should go inside. It had to be something that represented the school while also pleasing the sirens. Professor Murphy had called them “elegant” and “sophisticated.”

“I wish I could put in Pismo’s gloves,” I said to myself. “They look elegant, which the sirens will like, but they also have a surprise, which is just like Dr. Critchlore. He’s always doing surprising things.”

Mistress Moira stopped sewing and sighed. “You got that right,” she said, nodding at the room. “What’s surprising about the gloves?”

Uh-oh. I didn’t want to reveal Pismo’s secret. But on the other hand, Mistress Moira seemed to know everything about everybody. “Pismo’s dad sent him some gloves, but Pismo doesn’t want to show them to anybody. He’s embarrassed about them.”

“Because they’re made by mermaids?” Yep. Mistress Moira knew everything.

I nodded. “The gloves light up in the dark. They give off this really beautiful pale blue light.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the pair that Pismo had given me.

Moira held them, feeling the waterproof, soft-as-silk material. “They’re lovely.”

I sighed. “Why do the sirens hate the mermaids?”

“It’s a senseless hatred,” she said. “Built on jealousy and greed and the thirst for power.”

“Thirst for power?”

“Yes. Many leaders, especially the bad ones, use hatred and bigotry to control their own people. They blame all their problems on some other group, in the hope that their people won’t see that it’s their own leaders causing the problems. Didn’t you take Dr. Critchlore’s Tools of the Tyrant class?”

“Next year,” I said.

“Well, when the sirens are unhappy, the Grand Sirenness points her finger at the mermaids. ‘It’s their fault! Those stupid, greedy mermaids have trespassed into our rightful realm! They hate everything that lives on land, especially us, and they want to destroy our way of life.’ Then her people rally with her against this made-up mermaid threat.”

“I was going to give these gloves to you,” I said. “I thought maybe you could use them to make the show more amazing. But the sirens will know where they came from, won’t they?”

She nodded. “The sirens will destroy Dr. Critchlore if there’s as much as a whiff of something mermaid in this school.”

Over the next few days, the mood around campus was gloomy. Our boulderball team, our stealthball team, even our previously undefeated waterdragon polo team all suffered defeats, mostly at the hands, fins, and claws of Pravus teams.

Morale was low. Nobody wanted to work on a fashion show when there were important minion lessons to be learned.

I wasn’t having any luck finding the Archivist either. I kept trying the opening to the If Books Were Food poem, hoping that someone would reply with the next line. But I never got the response I was looking for.

Me: “If books were food . . .”

Betsy, the dungeon administrator: A sigh, then, “Dieting would be so much easier.”

Mr. Griphold, detention dean: “Libraries would be more crowded.”

Pierre, my foster brother: “We wouldn’t have to eat Cook’s seafood tetrazzini.”

Mr. Everest, dean of students: “Food fights would be more painful.”

Professor Chowding: “Darthin would be obese.”

I went to check in with Uncle Ludwig and found him in his secret library, huddled over a table with Professor Zaida as they examined a pile of old, leather-bound books. I stood by the staircase, and when he saw me, he came over to see if I had news. I shook my head before he could ask.

“Who could it be?” I lamented.

“Don’t give up. Of course the Archivist will be hard to discover,” Uncle Ludwig explained. “Remember, this person is a high-level operative, so he’s going to be extremely cunning and stealthy. He might show no interest in books whatsoever. And he’s probably a highly trained fighter too. And strong. Keep your eyes open for someone who leaves campus at times carrying a large load.”

Professor Zaida swept a few books into a bag and stood up to go. “I’ll leave you those books, Ludwig,” she said, pointing to the pile left on the table. “I’m going to take a few of these on my camping trip this weekend.”

“Okay, Valerie,” Ludwig said. “And please thank your sister for sending those books here.”

“Gentlemen.” She nodded at us and left.

With a bag of books.

To go on a camping trip.

I felt a sudden jolt. “Do you think—” I started, doing a double take to look back at Professor Zaida.

“Hmm?” Uncle Ludwig said.

“—that she’ll pack more than just books? The forest is filled with dangers, and she’s so small.”

‡‡‡

As depressed as I was about my lack of progress, it made me happy to see the girls having so much fun with the show. They modeled for one another and laughed and made up dances and different walks. Jud was doing a good job with the imps, who would be acting as ushers until the show started.

Syke and Janet were still unhappy about the whole thing. Syke, I could understand—she wasn’t exactly the fashion show type. But Janet? She could walk down a runway in Professor Murphy’s Monday/Wednesday coat and still look amazing.

As I made yet another delivery, I passed the group of girls, huddled around the end of the runway, looking at pictures.

“Bianca, you look really good in maroon,” Verduccia said. “I think when Mistress Moira finishes that, you are going to look stunning.”

“Thanks. I love how that dress drapes on you,” Bianca said. “And Frieda, yellow really brings out your eyes.”

They oohed and aahed over one another’s shots. Even Frieda managed to say something nice about someone else.

“You look too pretty to eat,” she told Meika in her husky voice. “Like a delicate little flower I don’t want to stomp on, even.”

“Thanks, Frieda.”

Dr. Critchlore stood on the stage, Professor Vodum next to him. I wanted to try the poem out on Dr. Critchlore, so I waited in the eaves.

“We’ve lost recruits,” Vodum said. “And now customers. On top of that, our sports teams are tanking, and the Siren Syndicate is coming tomorrow. Derek! Stop looking so calm. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to put on a fashion show,” he said.

“Your cousin and I could help you!” Vodum whined. “You know everyone in the family loves Greta. She and I could persuade the rest of the family to not vote ‘no confidence.’ We could save your job. All you have to do is meet my demands.”

“If I met your demands, then I would have to vote myself out, because I would have no confidence in anybody who would make you second-in-command.”

He turned his back on Vodum and headed for Mistress Moira, but I intercepted him.

“If books were food—” I started, looking at him expectantly.

“My students would starve, because Uncle Ludwig never opens the library,” he said. “What do you want, Hogwarth?”

Rats. Time for my backup plan. “We have a game in Yancy on Friday, and I think we can actually beat them. It’s not going to be canceled, is it? Because of the arrival of the Siren Syndicate?”

“Huh? Yancy? What?”

“Tackle three-ball game. Day after tomorrow. It’s still on, right?”

“Sure, why not?” He shook his head like it was a ridiculous question.

Mistress Moira got up to help fit Joelle in her dress behind a screen. Dr. Critchlore stood waiting for her, so I asked him another question.

“How long will the Siren Syndicate be here?”

“Just through the weekend, thank goodness,” he said. “But everything has to run smoothly. You have no idea how fearsome these women are. One perceived slight, one misstep, and they will destroy us.”

“Do they have monster powers?”

“I didn’t mean that literally, Hunter. Although I imagine they could give Pravus’s giant gorillas a good thrashing, ha!”

“Right,” I said. “Like Syke.”

He’d been watching for Mistress Moira to come back, but he looked over at the mention of his ward. “What?”

“Syke. When we went to the Pravus Academy, one of the gorillas tried to block our path. Syke told it to back off, and it did. It was amazing.”

“Syke did that? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

I shrugged.

“Interesting,” he said. “I had thought it was a myth, but perhaps, like all myths, there’s some truth to it.”

“To what?”

“Music soothes the savage beast. We’ve tried music, of course, but what if it’s something else? What if it’s beauty? Imagine . . . we could be sitting right on the one thing that can stop those monsters. Stop Pravus.” He pointed at the girls, smiling. “And it’s so simple.”

“That gorilla was just a kid, not a full-grown adult,” I said. “It probably hadn’t had Pravus’s special training yet either.”

“Special training, my butt. Those gorillas don’t need special training. Honestly, if Pravus tripped over a log, he would take credit for inventing wood.”

“Still, you can’t be thinking of sending Syke against another one,” I said. “The hamadryads will destroy you.”

“No, not Syke. You’re right. We’ll have to find another one. The prettiest one. Jessica. No, Jane. No . . . what’s her name?”

Uh-oh. What had I done? Was he really going to send one of the siren girls to go up against a giant gorilla? That was crazy.

I had to warn Janet, so I left.

I passed Vodum in the foyer. On a hunch, I stopped and said, “If books were food—”

He looked up at me. “Blech, books taste terrible.”

Not a surprise, that one.

I left the castle, heading for the girls’ dorm. Once outside I ran into Janet, who was bundled up in a blanket.

“Janet, you look terrible,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true. Even sickly, she looked great. She made a greenish complexion look like a mossy forest in the early-morning light. Breathtaking.

“I feel so sick. I’m not going to be able to greet the sirens tomorrow. I’m on my way to tell Dr. Critchlore, but I don’t think I can make it up the stairs. Can you tell him for me?”

“Actually, I wanted to warn you about something,” I said. “I think Dr. Critchlore is going to be looking for you. I told him about Syke standing up to the giant gorilla at Pravus’s, and he thinks that beauty might be their soft spot. He wants to test his theory out with you. But don’t do it, Janet. It’s too dangerous.”

“He wants me to go on a secret mission?”

“Yes, but like I said, it’s really dangerous. You should just wait for the siren mothers to get here tomorrow.”

“I’m good,” she said, throwing off the blanket and bundling it in her arms. Suddenly she seemed in perfect health. She bounded up the castle steps.