The School for Good and Evil (23 page)

“Are we in agreement the balance is
intact
?” said Professor Sader.

No one argued.

“Then Sophie will compete in the Trial by Tale and we have nothing more to discuss.”

Sophie swallowed a scream.

“Always so sensible, August,” said Lady Lesso, standing up. “Thankfully, the girl’s failures have ensured she will spend most of the Trial without the boy protecting her. Let us hope that she dies so brutally no one would dare repeat her mistakes. Only then will her story have the ending it
deserves
. Perhaps one even fit for a painting.”

She swept from the room and the Evil teachers followed her.

As the Good faculty filed out, muttering to each other in pairs, Professor Dovey and Professor Sader emerged last. They walked in silence, her high-necked chartreuse gown rustling against his shamrock-green suit.

“What if she dies, August?” Clarissa asked.

“What if she
lives
?” said Sader.

Clarissa stopped. “You still believe it’s true?”

“I do. As do I believe it true the Storian started her fairy tale.”

“But it’s impossible—it’s lunacy—it’s—” Clarissa flushed with horror. “
This
is why you intervened?”

“On the contrary, I
haven’t
intervened,” Sader said. “Our duty is to let the story take its course—”

“No! What have you—” Professor Dovey’s hand flew to her mouth—“
This
is why you send a girl to risk her life? Because you believe your spurious
prophecy
?”

“There is far more at stake here than one girl’s life, Clarissa.”

“She’s just a girl! An innocent girl!” Professor Dovey gasped, welling furious tears. “Her blood is on your hands!”

As she fled, sniffles echoing down the stairs, Professor Sader’s hazel eyes clouded with doubt.

He couldn’t see Sophie crouched next to him, trying to stop herself from shivering.

Awash in the Clearing’s crinkly leaves, Kiko wrapped her shawl tighter and licked her spiced corn cob.

“So I asked every girl if they’d say yes to Tristan and they all said no! So that means he
has
to ask me! He could go alone, of course, but if a boy goes alone to the Ball, he only gets half ranks and Tristan likes using the Groom Room so he’ll definitely ask me. Well, Tristan could ask
you
, but you told him to marry Tedros, so I don’t think he likes you. I can’t believe you said that. As if princes could marry each other. Then what would
we
do?”

Agatha chomped on her cob to drown her out. Across the Clearing, she saw Sophie and Tedros arguing ferociously in the mouth of the tree tunnel. It looked like Sophie was trying to apologize and embrace him—kiss him, even—but Tedros shoved her away.

“Are you listening to me?”

Agatha turned. “Wait. So if a girl doesn’t get asked to the Ball, then she fails and suffers a punishment worse than death. But if a boy doesn’t go to the Ball, he gets half ranks? How is that fair!”

“Because it’s the truth,” Kiko said. “A boy can choose to be alone if he wants. But if a girl ends up alone . . . she might as well be dead.”

Agatha swallowed. “That’s ridiculous—”

Something dropped in her basket.

Agatha glanced up to see Sophie meet her eyes as Tedros dragged her into the Evers line.

As Kiko jabbered on, Agatha pulled a luscious pink rose bloom from her basket, then saw it was made of parchment. With the deftest care, she undid the flower in the lap of her dress.

The note only had three words.

I need you.

20

Secrets and Lies

T
he cockroach darted under the door of Room 66 and nearly jumped from its shell. It gawped at shattered glass, noosed dresses, three sleeping witches—and skittered out before any of them saw her.

But one of them did see the roach.

And the swan on its stomach.

Antennae whisking right and left, Agatha tracked Sophie’s perfume down crooked stairs and dank halls (nearly succumbing to a shifty male roach along the way), until she found its source in the common room. The first thing she saw inside was shirtless Hort, face clenched red like a toddler on the toilet. With a last grunt of effort, he peered down at his chest and two brand-new hairs sticking out of it.

“
Yeah!
Whose talent can beat
that
!”

On the next couch, Sophie buried her nose deeper in
Spellcasting for Idiots.

She heard two insect clicks and looked up urgently. Hort puffed his chest and winked. She turned in horror, then saw lipstick scrawled on the floor behind her couch.

“BATHROOM. BRING CLOTHES.”

Sophie despised the Evil bathrooms, but at least they were a safe place to meet. Nevers seemed to have a phobia of toilets and avoided them entirely. (She had no idea what prompted this fear or where they relieved themselves, but she preferred not to think about it.) The door moaned as she slipped into the dim iron cell. Two torches flickered on the rusted wall, elongating the shadows of stalls. As she crept towards the last one, slivers of pale skin peeked through iron slits.

“Clothes?”

Sophie slid them under the stall.

The door opened and Agatha tramped out in Hort’s frog pajamas, arms crossed.

“I don’t
have
anything else!” Sophie whimpered. “My roommates hanged all mine!”

“No one likes you these days,” Agatha shot back, hiding her glowing finger. “I wonder why.”

“Look, I’m sorry! I couldn’t just go home! Not when I finally got my prince!”

“
You?
You
got your prince?”

“Well, it was mostly me . . .”

“You said you wanted to go home. You said we’re a
team
! That’s why I helped you!”

“We are a team, Agatha! Every princess needs a sidekick!”

“Sidekick!
Sidekick!
” Agatha shouted. “Well, let’s see how our heroine manages all by
herself
!”

She broke away. Sophie grabbed her arm. “I tried to kiss him! But he doubts me now!”

“Let go—”

“I need your help—”

“And I won’t give it,” Agatha spat, elbowing past her. “You’re a liar, a coward, and a fraud.”

“Then why did you even come?” Sophie said, eyes welling.

“Watch out. Crocodile tears mean crocodile wrinkles,” Agatha sneered from the door.

“Please. I’ll do anything!” Sophie blubbered—

Agatha swiveled. “Swear you’ll kiss him the first chance you get. Swear on your
life
.”

“I swear!” Sophie cried. “I want to go home! I don’t want them to kill me!”

Agatha stared at her. “Huh?”

Complete with voices and gestures, Sophie hysterically replayed the faculty meeting, failed challenges, and fight with Tedros.

“We’re getting too close to the end, Sophie,” Agatha said, now ghost white. “Someone always dies at the end of a fairy tale!”

“What do we do now?” Sophie squeaked.

“You win that Trial and kiss Tedros the moment you do.”

“But I can’t survive! I have three hours alone without Tedros protecting me!”

“You won’t be alone,” Agatha grumped.

“I won’t?”

“You’ll have fairy godroach under your collar, conjuring you out of trouble. Only this time, if you don’t kiss your prince on cue, I’ll curse you with every Evil spell I know until you do!”

Sophie threw her arms around her. “Oh, Agatha, I’m a terrible friend. But I’ll have my whole life to make it up to you.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall. “Go!” Agatha whispered. “I need to Mogrify!”

Sophie gave her a last hug and, aglow with relief, snuck from the bathroom and back to Hort’s protection. A minute later, a cockroach followed and dashed for the stairwell.

Neither noticed the red tattoo smoldering through shadows.

Per tradition, there were no classes the day before the Trial. Instead, the 15 Ever and 15 Never challengers were given time to scout the Blue Forest. So while unpicked students worked on Circus talents, Sophie followed Tedros through the gates, keenly aware of the chill between them.

Though the rest of the grounds had fallen prey to a slow autumnal death, the Blue Forest glistened, lush as ever, in midday sun. All week, the students had tried to wheedle out of their teachers what obstacles the challengers would face but they professed ignorance. The School Master designed the Trial in secret, giving professors only the power to secure its borders. Teachers couldn’t even
watch
the contest, since he cast a veiling spell over the Blue Forest for the whole night.

“The School Master forbids our interference,” Professor Dovey mumbled to her class, clearly distraught. “He prefers Trials to simulate the dangers of the Woods beyond reason or responsibility.”

But as the competitors crowded into the Forest behind Sophie and Tedros, none of them could believe that a night from now, this beautiful playground would turn into a hellish gauntlet. Together, the Evers and Nevers herded past the sparkling fronds of the Fernfield, snacking possums in the Pine Glen, the Blue Brook tumbling with trout, before they remembered they were enemies and split up.

Tedros shoved past Sophie. “Follow me.”

“I’ll go on my own,” she said softly. “I haven’t earned your protection.”

Tedros turned. “Beatrix said you cheated to get to number one. Is that true?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why did you fail all the pre-Trial challenges?”

Tears pearled Sophie’s eyes. “I wanted to prove I could survive without you. So you’d be proud of me.”

Tedros stared at her. “You lost . . . on
purpose
?”

She nodded.

“Are you insane!” he exploded. “The Nevers—they’ll
kill
you!”

“You’d risk your life to prove I’m Good,” Sophie sniffled. “I’m willing to fight for you, too.”

For a moment, Tedros looked like he might clobber her. Then the red seeped from his cheeks and he grabbed her in his arms. “When I come through those gates, promise me you’ll be there.”

“I promise,” Sophie wept. “For you, I promise.”

Tedros gazed into her eyes. Sophie puckered her perfectly glossed lips . . .

“You’re right, you should explore on your own,” her prince said, pulling away. “You need to feel confident in here without me. Especially after losing so many challenges.”

“But—but—”

“Stay away from Nevers, all right?”

He squeezed her hand and sprinted to catch up with Everboys in the pumpkin patch. Chaddick’s sharp voice echoed. “Still a villain, mate. Won’t get special treatment from us. . . .”

Sophie didn’t hear Tedros’ response. She stood alone in the silent glen, under a blue mistletoe tree.

“We’re still here,” she grouched.

“Maybe if you had delivered my lines like I said them!” the roach retorted under her collar.

“Three hours alone isn’t so bad,” Sophie sighed. “I mean, Nevers can’t use nonapproved spells. All we can do is start a storm or turn into a sloth. What could they possibly do to me?”

Something grazed her head. She whipped around and saw a gash in the oak trunk, right where she was standing. Impish Vex straddled a branch above her, sharp stick in hand.

“Just curious to see how tall you were,” Vex said.

Doughy, bald Brone waddled in from behind another oak and checked the mark. “Yeah, she’ll fit.”

Sophie gaped at them.

“Like I said,” Vex said, wagging pointy ears. “Just curious.”

“I’m going to die!” Sophie wailed as she fled the Forest.

“Not with me there,” Agatha said, pincers curled. “I beat them all in your classes and will beat them again tomorrow. Just focus on getting the kis—” Something smacked her head.

“What in the—”

Agatha looked down at a dead roach in the grass. Four more landed beside it.

Slowly Sophie and Agatha craned up to see the Evil Towers billowing pink mist, dead insects raining off balconies into the Clearing.

“What’s going on?” Sophie said.

“Extermination,” a voice answered.

Sophie turned to Hester, arms folded against the Forest gates. “Apparently they’ve been running around our school at night. Couldn’t have the risk of plague, of course. After your friend was sick.”

Hester picked a thrashing bug off her shoulder.

“Besides, a good reminder to anything that tries to go where it doesn’t
belong
, don’t you think?”

She licked the roach into her mouth and glided back into the Forest, leaves crunching under her feet.

Sophie gasped. “Do you think she knows you’re a roach?”

“Of course she knows, you idiot!”

Nevers’ voices neared from the Forest.

“Go!” Agatha hissed, scrambling down Sophie’s leg. “We can’t meet again!”

“Wait! How do I survive the Tria—”

But Agatha had vanished into the Good tunnel, leaving Sophie to fend for herself.

With the fairies doing curfew inspections from the first floors up, Agatha had just enough time to sneak to the breezeways and cross to Valor. Like all the teachers, Sader’s bedchamber adjoined his study. Break its lock and she could surprise him in his bed. She didn’t care if the creep didn’t want to answer questions. She’d tie him to his bed if she had to.

Agatha knew it was a terrible plan, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t sneak into the Trial now and Sophie would never last alone for three hours. Sader was their last hope to get home.

The stairs led right to his study, the lone door on Valor’s sixth floor. There was a stream of raised blue dots across its marble. Agatha ran her finger over them.

“
No students allowed on this floor
,” boomed Sader’s voice.
“Return to your room immediately.”

Agatha grabbed the doorknob and pointed her glowing finger at the lock—

The door creaked open on its own.

Sader wasn’t inside, but he hadn’t been gone long. The sheets in his bedroom were rumpled, the tea on his desk warm. . . . Agatha skulked around his study, its shelves, chairs, floor all suffocated with books. The desk was buried three feet under them, but there were a few open on top of the pile, lines of colorful dots highlighted by prickly silver stars in the margins. She swept her hand across one of these marked lines and a misty scene exploded out of the book to a woman’s sharp voice:

“A ghost cannot rest until it has fulfilled its purpose. For that, it must use the body of a seer.”

Agatha watched a scraggy ghost crash into the body of a bearded old man, before the mist cycloned back into the page. She touched the starred lines in the next book:

“In a seer’s body, a spirit may last only seconds before both seer and spirit will be destroyed.”

Before her eyes, two floating bodies merged, then crumbled to dust.

She ran her fingers across more of the starred lines.

“Only the strongest seers can host a spirit
—
”

“Most seers die before the ghost ever takes hold—”

Agatha grimaced. What was his obsession with seer—

Her heart stopped.

Prophecy
, said the teachers.

Could Sader
see the future
?

Could he see if they got home?

“Agatha!”

Professor Dovey gaped through the doorway. “Sader’s alarm—I thought it was a roach—a
student
! Out of bed after curfew!”

Agatha scurried past her for the stairs. “Two weeks cleaning toilets!” her teacher squawked.

Agatha glanced back to see Professor Dovey sweep her hands over Sader’s books with a frown. She caught Agatha watching and magically slammed the door.

That night, both girls dreamt of home.

Sophie dreamt she was fleeing Hester through pink fog. She tried to scream Agatha’s name, but a roach crawled from her mouth instead. At last she found a stone well and swam to its bottom, only to find herself in Gavaldon. She felt strong arms, and her father carried her to her house, which smelled of meat and milk. She needed the toilet, but he took her to the kitchen, where a pig hung on a gleaming hook. A woman drummed red nails on the counter.
Tsk, tsk, tsk
. “Mother?” Sophie cried. Before the woman could turn, her father kissed Sophie good night, opened the oven, and threw her in.

Sophie woke with a jolt so hard she smashed her head on the wall and knocked herself out.

Agatha dreamt Gavaldon was on fire. A trail of burning black dresses led her up Graves Hill and when she got to the top she found a grave instead of her house. She heard sounds from within and started digging, hearing voices now, nearer, nearer, until she woke to them next door—