BANISH HER! BANISH HER!”
The words struck out from both the Hood clan and the Wolf clan like thrown stones.
Raven felt sick. Banishment was the most severe punishment in all of Ever After. Banishment meant Cerise could never again go home to Hood Hollow. Her family could live elsewhere, but all fairytale characters were magically tied to their setting. Raven just didn’t feel right whenever she was away from Queen Castle for too long. Losing home forever? It was unthinkable! Even beneath Maddie’s constant amusement and merriment ran a quiet sadness that she was lost from her setting, unable to go home to Wonderland.
“No, no, no!” Red Riding Hood ran onto the bridge, eyes thick with tears, but voice confident. “No! Banishment must be a unanimous vote, and as a member of the Hood clan, I will never vote for it!”
An old woman in a long nightgown, lacy nightcap, and spectacles raised her wrinkled hand. The crowds quieted for whom Raven guessed could only be Grandma. The Grandma.
“It’s true enough, what Red says,” said Grandma, offering Cerise a sad smile. “And I don’t like the thought of banishing a member of my own family. But no denying this is serious business. The Evil Queen went off script—and look what happened there.”
As one, the entire Hood and Wolf clans shuddered.
“No, sir and ma’am, no good comes from going off script,” said Grandma. “This isn’t Cerise’s fault, but the laws are clear. She is the result of her parents’ abandoning their destiny, and if the people vote her out, she cannot remain.”
“But—” Red started.
Grandma raised her hand again. “But banishment is also serious business. What do you say, Cried Wolf?” she asked, turning to the wolf-were. “How about we settle the dispute with a good old-fashioned Basket Run trial?”
Cried Wolf growled but nodded. “The winner will decide Cerise’s fate.”
“A basket what?” Raven whispered.
“All right, people and canines, you know the rules,” said Grandma. “We start at the village, go down the forest path, and end at my house. The first Hood to cross the finish vine still holding a basket wins. If no basketed Hood manages to finish, then whichever Wolf snatches the most baskets wins. The winner decides the fate of our young Cerise.” Grandma looked at Cerise and clucked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t seem right to banish one so young, but there are laws to uphold.”
She said it as if Cerise’s fate were already determined, and Raven supposed it was. Looking over the scowling faces, Raven had no doubt that whoever won—Hood or Wolf—would vote to banish Cerise.
Unless Red won the race. The odds weren’t in her favor, though—there were a dozen Wolfs and a hundred other Hoods.
The Hoods began stretching their hamstrings, jogging in place. Some Wolfs shot up into human-ish form, others staying canines, pacing back and forth.
“Hext your father,” Red whispered to Cerise. “He has a better chance of winning than I do.”
“The game begins as soon as I give the signal from my watchtower,” Grandma declared.
Cerise was tapping on her MirrorPhone. “Wait—!”
“We have to move fast, dearie,” Grandma said to Cerise, and then, leaning in, whispered, “before things really turn big bad.” She started to walk. “Each team, pick a coach to join me in the watchtower.”
The elderly Brother Hood and white-haired Cranky Wolf volunteered.
“I want to compete, too!” Cerise said, still quickly typing on her phone. “I want a say in my own fate.”
“You don’t fit on either team, dearie,” said Grandma.
“Then I’ll be my own team,” said Cerise. “And Raven Queen will represent me in the tower.”
Grandma and the two coaches huddled in conference. The Wolf and the Hood were shouting, angry, but Raven heard Grandma say, “Nothing in the rules specifically against it. You’ve got to let her.”
“If you let her compete,” Raven shouted, “and she loses, you can throw me in the river!”
The two coaches grunted agreement. Grandma waved Raven forward and continued to walk briskly away.
Raven hurried after the three down a long, narrow forest path, monstrous trees guarding the darkness on either side. They reached Grandma’s cottage and climbed a ladder to the top of a spindly tower. The platform gave Raven a view of the entire path all the way back to Hood Hollow.
“The girl is an abomination,” said Brother Hood.
Cranky Wolf growled. “This is the first time we agree on anything. And it will be the last.”
“Shush up, you two,” said Grandma, handing them each a megaphone.
“Can I get a megaphone, too?” Raven asked.
“There isn’t an extra one,” said Grandma. “You’ll just have to shout.”
Shout? There was no way Cerise would be able to hear her.
Raven slipped her hand into her sleeve and turned on her MirrorPhone. As far as she knew, hexting Cerise wasn’t against the rules, but who knew what the others in that watchtower would do to prevent Cerise from winning.
RAVEN: turn on your phone’s audio hexting and put phone in your hood pocket so you can hear what I hext you, k?
Cerise was so far away Raven couldn’t see if she did as Raven asked.
“On your marks,” Grandma shouted into her megaphone, “get set, and run for your lives!”
The Hoods had the advantage in numbers. The hundred villagers came rushing down the forest path, all equipped with one basket over their arms. In the far back, Raven spotted a red cloak—it was Cerise, darting through the crowd, trying to make it forward. The Hoods seemed to be working against her, purposefully keeping her pinned behind.
“That’s right, keep it up!” Brother Hood yelled into the megaphone. “Nice and straight, don’t trample each other.”
At first Raven couldn’t see any Wolfs, but here and there she spotted dark shadows sliding through the forest. Apparently their starting point had been back in the woods, and they ran perpendicular to the path to intercept the Hoods.
“Incoming Wolfs!” Brother Hood shouted.
“Hoods at twelve o’clock!” Cranky Wolf bellowed into his megaphone.
And the first Wolf erupted from the trees. He was monstrously huge, bright gray with a long, toothy snout in full snarl. He tackled the Hood man who was running in front. There was a brief wrestle, and the Wolf came away with the man’s basket. The Wolf howled in triumph. The man sat on the ground. He was out.
“That’s it, Horribus!” said Cranky. “Now, step out of bounds and get another one!”
Horribus Wolf entered the forest on the other side of the path, ran a ways in, and then pivoted back, emerging again onto the path to tackle a second Hood.
Even the human-form Wolfs were hairy and scary, with large ears the better to hear Hoods with, wide eyes the better to see Hoods with, and sharp teeth the better to bite clean through a basket handle. The Wolfs crisscrossing the path took basket after basket after basket. Still, there were so many Hoods, Raven wasn’t sure the Wolfs could basket-tag them all before someone managed to cross the finish vine. It would be close.
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.
“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.