“Good morning, Fairy Tale Reform School!” Headmistress Flora’s unusually cheery voice booms through the great hall. “Today is the day we’ve been waiting for. After five years, the princesses will be arriving any minute to visit our fine school!”
Cheers ripple through the packed student crowd (attendance was mandatory) like we’re at an über-popular Troll-tally Fantastic concert.
Flora has rolled out the red carpet—literally—for our royal guests. A gold “Welcome to Fairy Tale Reform School!” banner hangs over the great hall’s archway, and the FTRS band is practicing the royal processional while Happily Ever After Scrolls reporters stand anxiously near the school’s two-story front doors with quills and paper at the ready. We’re all standing at attention. Tanks have been set up along the back wall of the hall for the mer-students, and Madame Cleo has been beamed in on one of Miri’s mirrors. There’s even a fairyographer ready to capture the princesses’ arrival.
“I expect you to put your best foot—or fin—forward today,” Flora says. Professor Harlow and Professor Wolfington flank the headmistress, each in long, green embroidered robes, while Jocelyn—shocker—stands nearby.” We have a list of activities the royals will be attending, which you should have received this morning along with starched uniforms.”
My favorite work boots seem to have gone missing. The only shoes I could find this morning were the ugly, black standard ones we all wear.
Clever, Flora. Very clever.
“These uniforms itch,” grumbles Jax, who is standing next to me. His hair is slicked back, and the buttons on his shirt gleam even brighter than his shoes.
“They make us look good,” says Ollie as he makes his way through the crowd to reach us. I watch as he produces a crystal bottle from inside his shirt sleeve. A few feet away I hear someone say, “Hey! What happened to my cologne?” Ollie doesn’t blink an eye as he dabs away. The musky smell makes my eyes water. “You never know when one of these princesses is going to ditch her prince and go looking for a more worldly fella.”
“Today is a very important day for our school,” Flora adds. “We want the princesses to recognize FTRS’s positive impact on the kingdom of Enchantasia.”
Kayla snorts. “She means she’s desperate for them to throw us a royal ball. Ick! The idea of curtsying to royals makes me want to cough up my breakfast.”
I didn’t realize Kayla was a royal hater like me. Makes me realize how little the two of us have really talked since I got here almost two weeks ago.
A group of girls wearing hot pink Royal Ladies-in-Waiting sashes pushes past us. Groan. I saw these girls in our dorm common room last night, and they couldn’t stop bragging about how they were the royal school escorts for the day. As if I’d ever want that job.
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” I joke. “You shouldn’t have gotten up so early to help prepare the royal feast, Kayla.”
Jax gives her a look. “You did? Why’d you volunteer if you hate the royals so much?”
“Extra-credit and I’m not tired. I’m fine,” Kayla snaps. “Can we just stop talking about this?”
She doesn’t look fine. Kayla’s eyes have black rings under them, and her short, blond hair is unusually unkempt. She didn’t even put on her pressed uniform. Well, if she wanted to talk about whatever is bothering her, I assume she would. I think that’s what roommates do—not that we’ve done that, other than the night when she told me about her family.
I notice Flora touching the marble statue of a king in the foyer and smiling up at it. I like that one much better than the gargoyles that have disappeared from the halls. If students noticed, they haven’t said anything. “Who is that statue of?” I ask the group.
“King Jerrod,” Ollie tells me. “Enchantasia’s first royal. Rumor has it he went from a thief to king overnight. We think he’s somewhat of an idol for Flora. She kept that statue in her private home until this week.”
“Headmistress Flora,” Mira announces breathlessly. “The princesses have just passed through the school gates.”
“Places, everyone!” Flora says, and the school orchestra begins to play.
“This is so ridiculous,” Kayla says. She’s obviously one of the few who feel that way, because within moments there is a collective gasp from the entire hall as the doors open and we see the princesses standing there in the flesh.
“Presenting Enchantasia’s royal court,” Miri announces in a regal voice I’ve never heard her use before. “Princess Ella, Princess Rose, Princess Snow, and Princess Rapunzel.”
There’s no denying that each one is prettier than the next. The dewy skin, the glossy hair—perfect little packages of beauty. But instead of being envious (like the fairy next to me silently shooting death rays at them) or emotional (like Maxine, who is holding a handpainted sign that says “Snow, You Melt My Heart”) or lovesick (like Ollie, who is holding a Rapunzel poster), all I can think about is how much work must go into being one of them. And all that arm-waving and smiling. It must be exhausting.
But my classmates drink it up. They’re chanting, screaming, applauding, and practically throwing themselves at the princesses as they walk down the carpet laid out in their honor. Usually the only time we get a glimpse of royalty is when they’re riding by in a carriage waving a white-gloved hand to the adoring masses. Today I can see Cinderella’s royal blue gown up close. Her beaded skirt is so poufy you could hide half my bedroom furniture under it.
I watch as Ella reaches her former stepmonster. For a moment, the excitement seems to die down as we all wonder how the two will handle their first face-to-face since the big shoe dilemma. Headmistress Flora demurely curtsies. Then Ella curtsies back.
“Whoa.” Jax whistles. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Maybe they’ve put all the bad blood behind them,” Maxine suggests, hovering near the edge of our group. “Maybe Ella has forgiven Flora. I mean, she did agree to come today, right?”
Kayla makes a face. “Who cares what the real reason is? We should be focusing on Ella’s gown. She could have fed my whole village with what it cost to make that dress.” She sighs. “I’ve had enough. I’d rather go to stargazing class than listen to all this fawning.” She gives me a look as a boy next to us faints at the sight of Rapunzel. “And you know how much I hate stargazing.”
“Do you want me to walk you down there?” Kayla’s acting so weird, and I can’t tell if it’s me or her. Ever since I heard Madame Cleo make that spooky prediction in detention, I’ve been on edge. Jax says I’m worrying for nothing. (“The Sea Siren doesn’t remember her name half the time. You think she’s going to be right about a villain uprising?”)
“No, I’m fine. You have scroll works in the totally opposite direction.” Kayla manages a smile. “I’ll see you afterward in gym.”
“Wait up. I’m walking your way.” Jax links arms with Kayla. “Ollie and I may even sneak into stargazing to avoid wand work.”
“I’m thinking of doing a sleight-of-hand trick to conjure up a hall pass,” Ollie tells me gleefully.
I wish I could do that trick. The last place I want to go later today is gym to kiss up to the royals. When it’s time, I practically have to drag myself to the gym locker room to get changed. On my way there, I get stuck behind a bunch of gossiping Royal Ladies-in-Waiting.
“I heard the glass cracked in the middle of Madame Cleo’s ballroom-dancing presentation!” the Royal Ladies’ captain is saying. “It practically flooded the room. They said Snow got completely soaked.”
I immediately think of Madame Cleo’s prediction again.
Maxine pushes ahead of me and grips the most popular Royal Lady-in-Waiting’s arm. “Were the princesses all right?”
“Headmistress Flora took Snow to her chambers to find her something suitable to wear ’til a servant from the castle arrives with dry clothes,” says a royal wannabe. “I’m just upset we didn’t think to bring them extra gowns ourselves!”
Another member shakes the first one. “Hold it together.” The other girl nods and takes big, gulping breaths. “We can make up lost ground during the luncheon sing-along.”
“How could Madame Cleo’s tank break?” I ask more importantly, and the girls turn to look at me with disdain. Obviously not being a Royal Lady-in-Waiting means I’m not allowed to comment. “I thought it was made of the strongest glass there is.”
“Nothing’s strong enough to compete with black magic,” says Jocelyn, walking past us. The torches lighting the hallway dim as if they sense her darkness. “The crack in the tank, the swarm of pernicious peony ants that were accidentally released in the botany lab, the poisoned fruit found in the cafeteria at the breakfast buffet.” She looks at me directly. “No one should cross the dark side.”
“Poisoned fruit?” Maxine’s lazy eye does a one-eighty.
Jocelyn takes a bite of an apple. “Helmut’s at the infirmary with Princess Rapunzel, who got a nasty peony-ant bite on her nose.”
One of the Royal Ladies pulls off her pink sash, and it hits Maxine in the face. “I’m told Ella gave Flora her permission this morning for us to hold an anniversary ball at FTRS next week. Now that’s never going to happen! What are we going to do, ladies?”
Who cares about the royal ball? I want to know whether Flora would host Royal Day if she is up to no good.
Maybe.
Azalea is waiting as we approach the gym locker room. She student teaches in our class, and she doesn’t look thrilled. “You’re keeping Harlow waiting, and you all know how much Harlow likes to be kept waiting.”
“Harlow?” I ask. “Where’s Madame Tilly?” Tilly is our ogre-rific gym coach. With the warts on her nose, her unibrow, and the bad overbite, she’s kind of tough to look at, but she’s the nicest teacher in this joint.
“Harlow is taking over your class to prevent any more incidents.” Azalea adjusts the bodice of her pale peach gown. I look around. There’s no sign of Kayla. “One more misstep and the princesses are out of here, so suit up. Harlow wants you to impress them with your fencing skills.”
“Excellent.” Jocelyn gives me a smug smile.
“Happily Ever After Scrolls is here too,” Azalea adds. “Let’s make a good impression, ladies. It would be nice if one story from today could be about how our reform school is actually reforming students rather than injuring them.”
“Somehow I don’t see how using swords will help,” I point out.
Azalea’s pretty green eyes narrow at me. “No one asked for your opinion, Gilly.” She opens the door to the locker room and I look at Maxine, who shrugs and heads to her cubby to get out armor.
• • •
Like every other room at FTRS, our gym has gotten a makeover for Royal Day. Silk banners hang from each wall touting our various sports teams (Magic Carpet Racing! Castle Storming! Synchronized Snake Charming!). A banquet table sits along the back wall, covered with a silk tablecloth and bouquets of lilies. Professor Harlow has changed out of her gown and is wearing fitted fencing gear with a tiara replacing her helmet.
I see Jax, Ollie, and the other boys in our class emerge from the boys’ dressing room, and I make a beeline for them. I yank Jax away from Ollie without explanation.
“Have you heard what’s been happening all morning?” I say, sounding shrill. “It’s got to have something to do with Madame Cleo’s prediction!”
“Don’t get your knickers in a knot,” Jax says. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”
Is Jax daft? “Something is definitely going on! Flora has to be behind it, or Jocelyn—she knew about the gargoyles. What if Flora is planning to burn down her own school?”
I look around the room worriedly. Jocelyn and Harlow are talking quietly in a corner, and Headmistress Flora is chatting with Princess Snow. I glance at the Royal Ladies-in-Waiting. They’re handing the princesses baskets of flowers. Sleeping Beauty is watching us, but Snow is stifling a yawn and Rapunzel is holding an ice bag to her nose, which is a nasty shade of blue. Okay, nothing unusual at the moment, but something has to be up. I need dirt on someone—and quick. I’ve got to get out of this place and back to my brothers and sisters while I’m still in one piece to do it!
“This is why I told you to only worry about yourself.” Jax runs a hand through his hair. “I should have bailed when I had the chance myself.” I glare at him. He’s not helping. “At least Flora called in the Dwarf Police Squad for the rest of the day.”
I look at Pete and Olaf and resist the urge to blurt out, “I didn’t do it.”
“Fencers, please get in position,” Azalea interrupts, handing us each a sword.
The cold handle of the silver sword gives me an instant feeling of calm. No wonder the Evil Queen fences. I wish she didn’t coach the team because I would actually try out to be on it. I bet I’d win my matches too. That’s what I always want: to win. I still don’t know what the future holds for me, but I know I’m not meant to be a cobbler. I want a job that I’m in control of. Not one that is handed to me by the royals.
Jocelyn walks by me, swinging her sword at her side, and I slide out of the way before she can “accidentally” pierce my gym shorts. The two of us glare at each other as we walk into the center of the room. I hear the gym doors swing open and Kayla runs inside. She’s wearing her gym uniform, but her hair is noticeably wet and there is a pink stain on her arm. Her skin is whiter than usual and her wings are not fluttering. She takes a sword from a less-than-pleased Azalea and races over to Jax and me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Kayla wipes sweat from her brow. “The hallways weren’t working right, and I couldn’t find my way to the gym. It’s no big deal.” She sounds testy again, so I let it drop.
Harlow adjusts the tiara on her head as she walks our way. “Sorry to interrupt your tea party, ladies, but I’m speaking,” she whispers. “Students, please turn to the person to your left and prepare for an assault.” I look at her blankly. “Jocelyn?” Harlow says, sounding bored.
Jocelyn sighs. “That’s fencing speak for a friendly battle, Cobbler.”
“Sweet! I love friendly battles!” Ollie turns to Jax at the same time I do. “Aww, dude. Tell me I turned right instead of left?”
“You turned right instead of left,” we say and he turns the other way.
Jax grins like he’s won our duel before he’s even lifted a sword.
“Nice try, but you’re going down.” I rest my hand on my sword.
“You don’t even know how to use that thing,” Jax says.
“And you do?” I joke. He probably does. He’s been here longer than me.
“We’re going to start with a balestra followed by a lunge and then—” Harlow is cut off by the sound of a crash from above that sends glass raining down on the room. Jax and I put our hands over our heads and duck for cover, and that’s when I hear the screeching.
Gargoyles. My stomach lurches as my classmates begin to scream and run in different directions. A few are pulled into the air by the beasties and I hear the red-alert siren sound just like it did that day in Wolfington’s class.
This time it’s definitely not a drill.
I immediately start to cough as a thick purple fog fills the room.
We’re done for.