Of Sorcery and Snow (9 page)

Maybe that wasn't what worried me. Maybe I didn't want to see her face when she realized how much I'd kept from her.

“In your new high school, you can go to all the dances. Maybe I'll even let you and your friends take a cab there, so you won't have to get dropped off by your mother. Seriously uncool,” Mom said. She was clinging so hard to the dream of staying here. Sadness rushed in and smothered the guilt.

With me gone, she was going to worry anyway. It was better that she worry just about the dangers she already understood, rather than the magical kind that would scare her more. I couldn't tell her yet.

After two whole years, one more week wouldn't make a huge difference.

Mom parked in front of the blue-and-gray house with the bright red door, the Door Trek one that would take me to EAS. You couldn't hear any music, but that didn't tip her off. Seeing that no other cars were lining up to drop their kids off didn't bother her either. When I'd told Ellie that my parents were supersuspicious of my after-school activities, she amped up the
don't question anything
enchantment so much that even Melodie was affected. Last time we'd carried her through this way, she had gone as still as a statue for almost a minute, and when she woke up, she'd said she had forgotten for a moment that she was a magic, talking,
moving
harp.

When I got out of the car, Mom did too, and she hugged me hard. “Who's my favorite daughter?”

She hadn't said that in a while. Maybe she thought I'd outgrown it, but I still liked hearing it.

I relaxed into her, dropping my chin on her shoulder, trying not to wonder if she would hug me so hard after I came back. “But I'm your
only
daughter.”

“Then it's a good thing you're my favorite.” She smiled, tucking some hair behind my ear. “I know it's hard to imagine a different life. We've gotten into a good routine. If we make a change, it's new and different and scary. But just remember: It was new and different and scary when we started moving around, and we handled it just fine. We're brave enough. We'll survive.”

I hoped she was right. I hoped it was true for coming clean about EAS, not just staying in San Francisco.

“Nothing lasts forever,” she said, hugging me again. I wasn't sure she was going to let me go. I wasn't even sure I wanted her to.

Remember the dream,
I told myself.
Remember the kids.

“I'll tell you all about it when I get back,” I said.

Mom's face brightened, hopeful, and I hated myself instantly. The right thing to say had come to me so easily. I was getting as bad as Chase.

This was the last lie. It had to be. I couldn't stand being such a terrible daughter anymore.

She patted my bare shoulder. “Have fun, sweetie.”

I trotted up the front steps to the red door. Mom's camera flashed three times, like my own personal paparazzi, the parental version. I turned back to wave, and I wondered if she would show those pictures to the cops—evidence of the outfit I was wearing when I went missing. I wondered if later she would notice the guilt on my face.

Nothing lasts forever. Not even Mom's trust in me.

I stepped inside and tripped—right over Chase.

He sat on the floor, staring into his M3. He obviously didn't care if he got his suit all dusty. It was dark in this corridor so often that I memorized the carvings on the walls by feel alone, but he'd managed to flip the lights on.

“You're late,” he said without looking up. It looked like someone had attacked his shaggy blond hair with a wet comb. “Miriam went to the ball ages ago, and Lena just left to set up the illusion in the workshop.”

It took me a few seconds to switch gears—to start worrying about the quest instead of Mom. “She couldn't set it up here?” I asked.

“According to Melodie, the spell can't be moved that far after it's cast,” he said. “Pack up your carryall so we can meet her. She can't actually start the spell without us.”

Supplies were spread across the floor beside him. I unzipped my pack and started shoving stuff inside: my enchanted sleeping bag; a new sword belt to attach to my sheath; an ancient
SAVE THE PLANET
sack, heavy with green-gold dragon scales; a clay tile that looked a lot like the one I'd just set up; a scuffed Lunch Box of Plenty, the same pony-stickered one Chase and I had taken to Atlantis.

“Did anyone grab some rings of return?” I asked.

“We couldn't find them. The Director keeps them in her office, and we didn't want to risk breaking into there,” Chase said.

I stopped packing to stare at him. He shouldn't sound so calm. “So how are we going to get back?”

“Lena packed fifty extra dragon scales so we can make a portal straight back to Hawthorne,” Chase said, eyes still glued to his M3. “So we can get the kids back too.”

“Oh.” This was the problem with not being able to chat on your M3 all day: your friends made a bunch of plans without you, and you had to play catch-up.

I peered around his shoulder to see the M3. He was staring at the ballroom.

If the well-dressed EASers didn't give it away, its pretty sky-blue walls did. Even the members of the Canon had gotten fancy—Hansel wore a suit without a tie, and the Director was in a violet ball gown with a skirt so huge it almost hid her seat, a high-backed chair engraved with thorns. Both of them looked kind of worried, which wasn't great news, but not particularly attentive, which was way more helpful.

“Did Lena ask you to spy on the Director?” I asked.

“Nope. I volunteered. Adelaide keeps trying to bribe me into dancing with her.” He looked up to kind of grin at me. I say “kind of” because the grin lasted about half a second. Then he just
goggled at me as if I had walked in wearing towering icicles, like the Snow Queen's favorite crown.

“What?” I said, touching my hair to check that I hadn't gotten anything in it.

“You're wearing makeup,” Chase said. He never looked at me that closely unless I was doing a move wrong during one of our lessons. Even then, his eyes didn't travel up and down like that.

Suddenly the dress I was wearing felt stupid. I wished I could have spent the day researching spells to keep warm in the Arctic, like Lena, or sneaking around EAS's storerooms to gather supplies, like Chase. A blush was coming on. I wondered if he could see it under all the dumb makeup. “It's not my fault. Mom put it on me.”

Chase snorted. “And you let her?”

“It was the only way she would let me out of the house,” I said. “I told her I was excited about the dance.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, that explains why you haven't finished packing yet. You're worried about breaking a nail.”

I shoved the lunch box into my carryall, feeling even more defensive. “I haven't finished because nobody's
helping
.”

“Lena entrusted me with a very important task.” Chase waved his M3.

“Then you should be staring at
that
instead of at
me
,” I said.

Chase jerked his head back to the mirror. Point to Rory, but I didn't really feel any less awkward. We were silent for the minute it took me to finish packing.

“Done. Where do we leave this, then?” I asked him, pointing at my carryall.

“I'll show you.” Chase hopped up from the floor and slid to a spot across from the carving of the Snow Queen. Then he whispered something in Fey. Without my gumdrop translator in, I
couldn't catch the words, but I'd heard it so many times that I recognized the spell:
Break what was whole, crack what was smooth, open what was shut.

A secret passageway. It didn't surprise me. Chase knew about most of them.

We ducked through three hidden doors, turned a corner, and came to a bright corridor with mason-jar chandeliers, a honey-colored wood floor, and three packs leaning against a wall of exposed brick. The other side had a carving too—of Evan Garrison, I think, talking to a fleet of foxes.

“This is the door to Portland. Lena and I already tweaked the spell to let the four of us through,” Chase said.

“For a quick getaway?” I said, slinging my pack off.

“If necessary.” Chase turned toward a door so intensely green that it was just one shade away from neon. “But you know Lena—she's definitely hoping it won't be necessary.” He twisted the old brass handle and pushed open the door. The Tree of Hope stood dead ahead, one of its twisting branches touching down right in front of us, blocking us from view. That would be helpful when we made our escape.

Dozens of people had surrounded the Table of Never Ending Instant Refills. Today it was covered with a punch fountain, cucumber sandwiches, and tiny little cakes. But the courtyard wasn't nearly as crowded as it normally was. The only people in my grade I saw were the stepsisters. Tina was scrubbing at a punch stain on Vicky's sleeve with a wet napkin, and they stared at me blankly when I waved at them.

We started across the grass toward the ballroom, and before we'd gone two steps, a quiet musical voice called, “Rory.”

Chase jumped about a mile.

Rapunzel stood behind us. She wore the dove-gray dress she saved for special occasions. Even her long silver braid was fancier than usual: she'd woven red ribbons and ruby-encrusted jewelry into it.

I smiled. If she was here, it was to help us. This
was
the right thing to do.

“It's creepy, the way you always know where we are.” Chase folded his arms. His suit sleeves were a little too short. “I hope the Director didn't see you waiting out here. She's more suspicious of you than us three.”

That was true, but it wasn't Rapunzel's fault. She couldn't help being the Snow Queen's sister.

“The Director is at the ball,” I reminded Chase. “We're safe for a few minutes.”

Stepping closer to me, Rapunzel pulled something from her pocket: the top part looked like a silver tree, with tiny emeralds set into it like leaves, and the bottom had a bunch of short metal sticks. It was a comb. She slid it into place right behind my ear.

Chase gave a little golf clap. “Very pretty. Can we please go now? Lena's waiting on us.”

Rapunzel ignored Chase and bent toward me. I waited for her to tell me everything I needed to know to survive the quest, but all she whispered was, “Do not get caught.”

Then she stepped aside. We were obviously dismissed. Chase wasted no time scooting me forward.

I glanced back, half expecting Rapunzel to rush up and tell us a few impossible-to-understand prophecies, but she had disappeared. “Doesn't she usually tell us more than that?”

He made a face. “Oh, she cornered me and Lena earlier. You know what she told me? ‘Be patient with her. She'll need more
time than you.'” He glanced at me sidelong, already exasperated. “That means either you or Lena or Miriam's going to be slow. My money's on you. I've seen Lena and Miriam run.”

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes, but I was trying hard not to be jealous.
I
was the one Rapunzel usually singled out, not my friends. “What'd she tell Lena?”

“Something about inventing. She'll probably need a translation later,” Chase said as we skirted around the Table. The doors to the ballroom were straight ahead. The sounds of violins and harps leaked through the carved wood. “‘This quest won't be like the others.' That's another thing she told us in Lena's workshop this afternoon.”

I might have grilled him some more, but someone was waiting for us: Lena.

She looked so different and amazing that I wondered if she might get a second Tale tonight: “The Ugly Duckling.” Not that she was ugly, but with her glasses off and her hair up, her neck looked about a million miles long. That definitely screamed
swan
. Her dress was gold, and her dark skin glowed against it. It wasn't just her outfit, though—she stood up as straight and elegant as a princess. Of course, she was biting her lip and wringing her gloved hands, which kind of spoiled the effect.

“Melodie's almost ready,” Lena told Chase, too nervous to even say hi to me, “but we can't cast the illusion with so many people in the courtyard.”

Chase nodded. “I'll run inside and tell him we need that decoy he offered.”

“Ben went in about ten minutes ago,” Lena said, relieved. “He's wearing seersucker.”

Ben Taylor was the only Character in the entire Ever After School who would ever wear a seersucker suit. He was full of
dorktastic style, and weirdly enough, he'd become one of Chase's closest friends since his Tale last spring.

“Got it.” To me, Chase added, “Stay here. It's insanity in there.”

He opened the doors. The ballroom's sky-blue walls were the same as usual, and so was the gilded woodwork that made the walls sparkle. The rest had been transformed.

They'd hung seven chandeliers—golden phoenixes as big as dragons, with flames dancing across their metal feathers. The orchestra was filled with the huge metal fairy, troll, and witch dummies we usually practiced on in training. I'm pretty sure that they took requests, because the lame waltzy music had given way to an instrumental version of “Brown-Eyed Girl.” On the dance floor, there were so many Characters—and so many huge frilly dresses—that I lost Chase before the doors even closed behind him.

“Ben said Lancer brought his speakers, so they're all set,” Lena told me, like I knew what that meant. “Ben can do this, right? He can create a decoy that distracts the Director and gets everyone out of the courtyard.”

“Um . . . sure.” I wanted that to be true, but Ben didn't have as much experience as Chase with this sort of thing.

Lena didn't notice my hesitation. “I mean, he has Chatty on the M3, helping him.”

“Definitely then,” I said. Chatty was Ben's girlfriend—a mermaid who happened to love practical jokes. They have a long-distance relationship. “Is there anything
I
can do?”