I knew trying to be Ben’s perfect girlfriend was a bad idea.

I’m so outta here.

Mal rode her scooter out of the woods and came to a stop at the shore.

She looked across the Sea of Serenity at her far-off old home. The magical barrier flickered and shimmered over the Isle of the Lost like it was a memory, beckoning to Mal. She was still sobbing. She flipped her goggles onto her helmet and pulled her spell book out of her bag. She flipped through it and stopped. Then she incanted, “Noble steed, proud and fair, you shall take me anywhere.” She waved her finger.

The scooter roared to life, bearing a new glittering graffiti paint job.

Mal put on her goggles and took a breath. “Please work.” Her voice was desperate. She zoomed across the surface of the sea toward the isle of exiled prisoners, gaining speed. She headed toward the barrier, and her eyes grew wide.

With a flash, Mal’s enchanted scooter disappeared through the barrier.

In no time, she rolled through a dusty lane filled with disheveled, grubby pirates selling knickknacks at their rotting storefronts. Her scooter was dinged and battered-looking, like it had taken a beating traveling through the barrier. A pirate leaped out of Mal’s way. Another ducked behind the newspaper she had been reading. Mal stopped to scrutinize a vandalized Royal Cotillion poster of King Ben and the new blond version of herself in a pink dress with white lace gloves. It read THE EVENING’S EVENTS TO BE BROADCAST LIVE ON AURADON ROYAL TELEVISION. Over Ben’s face, someone had scribbled a black eye patch and a goatee, and a purple X had been spray-painted over Mal’s face with GOOD GIRL! on her body.

Mal thought back to a time when she had been the vandal supplying the design, and she felt offended seeing that she’d become the vandal’s victim, and strange that she was part of Ben’s goodie reputation on the Isle. She wanted to shake that good-girl image—fast.

Mal flipped up her goggles. She ripped the poster down, crumpled it up, tossed it over her shoulder, snapped her goggles back down, and continued along her way. The destitute pirates looked on in her wake, frightened. Mal’s scooter roared down another squalid street. People jumped out of the way. Some shook their fists at her.

Mal smiled. She was home.

A short distance later, Mal rolled through an alley infested with grungy thieves, minions, and pickpockets and parked her bike under the stairway of her crew’s old hideout. It was a house perched high on a broken bridge’s dilapidated support. There was a drop-down gate barring a flight of steps that led to the entrance at the top, where a sign read ISLE OF THE LOST in mismatched flickering letters. At the bottom of the hideout was an old-fashioned ship’s call horn, where visitors could announce themselves. Mal removed her helmet, taking in her familiar surroundings.

She picked up a rock and hurled it at a sign that said DANGER: FLYING ROCKS, and the gate slid up. Mal ducked under it and climbed the steps. She paused on a landing to gaze over the Isle. It was as bleak and dismal as ever. She smirked and kept climbing until she reached the top, and she entered the vacant hideout. Exposed lightbulbs and bits of fabric clung to the ceiling, and graffiti images on the walls said WE SHALL RISE!, REVENGE!, and DOWN WITH AURADON!

The hideout was just how Mal and her friends had left it.

In Auradon, Ben reviewed official royal documents in his library office.

“Deborah, please ask Lumiere to call me regarding Cotillion. Thank you,” he said into the earpiece he wore. He peered at the pile of papers stacked before him on the desk, framed on each side by the Auradon flag. He dipped his quill into an ink pot and took another paper with the Auradon crest at the top to review. The leather chair he sat in wasn’t a throne, but it was the place where Ben performed most of his kingly duties when he wasn’t in his official council meetings. The office was also somewhere to hide away when things got tough, like after the fight with Mal at the pond. Ben shook his head as if to make sense of it and signed the document. The framed portrait of him looked down on him from over the fireplace, as if it judged him.

Evie rapped on the door and stuck her face into the room. “Ben,” she said softly.

Ben looked up, and his face brightened. “Evie! Come on in.” He took out his earpiece.

She pushed through the door, closed it softly behind her, and faced Ben. Her lip trembled, and her eyes glistened. She held a piece of paper in her shaking hands. “Mal’s gone back to the Isle,” she said, “for good.”

Ben’s expression turned blank.

Evie walked to Ben’s desk and handed the note to him. She also handed Ben’s shiny gold beast-head ring to him. It had once belonged to his powerful father.

Ben’s eyes widened. He took the note and read what Mal had written, then crumpled the paper in his hand. “This is my fault. This is my fault!” he roared. “I blew it. She’s been under so much pressure lately. And instead of understanding, I—I just went all Beast on her!” Ben slumped over his desk. “I have to go there and apologize,” he told Evie. “I have to go back! And beg her—”

“You’ll never find her,” said Evie.

Ben walked behind his desk to the window to look over the tree-filled lawn.

“You need to know the Isle, and how it works, and our hideouts….” Evie exhaled. She looked thoughtful, then said, “You have to take me with you.”

Ben spun away from the window. “Yes!” His face lit up. Then he squinted. “Uh, I mean, are you sure?”

Evie’s expression hardened. “Yeah,” she said, standing taller. “She’s my best friend.” Evie turned around. “And we’ll take the boys, too, because there’s safety in numbers. And none of us are all too popular over there right now.”

“Thank you, Evie,” said Ben.

Evie shifted to face him. “But first let’s get two things straight,” she said.

Ben stared at her, waiting.

“You have to promise me that I won’t get stuck there again,” said Evie.

“I promise,” said Ben.

“Okay,” she said.

Evie eyed Ben’s royal-blue suit. “And there’s no way you’re going to the Isle looking like that.”