فصل 6

Chapterr 6

Her Name Is Yara

“An army dedicated to producing stories just like yours,” said Dean Sader, clacking through the sun-washed breezeway from Valor to Honor in her blue-glass heels. “Your tale was just a taste of what princesses and witches can do together. Here you will lead an entire school!” “A school—” Agatha choked, chasing her down the Honor stairs. “We need to go home!” “You see, the former deans and I have a difference of opinion,” said Dean Sader as butterflies flew in from every direction and vanished into her dress. “They think you must leave our world to find your happy ending together. And I think you must stay.” “But the boys are going to kill me!” Sophie said, bumping Agatha hard as she passed.

“Mmmm, let’s say you do break into a castle full of bloodthirsty males,” the Dean said, sweeping her buxom behind through the foyer. “Let’s say you free the Storian against all odds.” She stopped outside the frosted doors of the Gallery of Good. “The wish won’t work unless you mean it.” She gazed at Sophie. “How can you wish for Agatha if you know she wants her prince?” The Dean turned to Agatha. “How can you wish for Sophie if you fear the witch inside?” She leaned in so close the girls could smell her flawless honeycream skin.

“How can you wish for someone you do not trust?”

Sophie’s and Agatha’s eyes met dartingly, hoping the other would argue. Neither did.

“Your friendship must be fixed before you can go home. And here you will fix what is broken,” Dean Sader said, a last butterfly fluttering into her dress. “Fairy tales have trained us to believe a beautiful bond like yours cannot last. Why? Because a boy must come between you. A boy so threatened by your story that he’s willing to kill to destroy it. But at my school, we teach you the truth.” She opened the door to pitch darkness.

“That a girl without a boy is the greatest happy ending of all.” Her finger magically lit a torch, and the flame roared red to a burst of drums. Agatha and Sophie leapt back— Twenty rows of girls stood frozen, heads bowed, each wearing a white veil, royal-blue harem pants, and a light blue bodice stitched with a butterfly crest over the heart. There were more than 100 of them, stretching through the exhibits of the museum, past its open rear doors, and into the vast ballroom of Good Hall. Faces obscured, they stood eerily still, arms raised with hands to opposite elbows as if summoning genies. Hovering above them, just beneath the ceiling, two more veiled girls on magic carpets beat snare drums faster and faster.

At the front of this parade was a lone girl without anyone else in her row. Her veil was blue instead of white, her hair ginger red, and the pallid skin on her thin arms dotted with strawberry freckles. Slowly she raised her arms. . . .

The drums stopped.

With an untamed screech, the girl blew a blast of fire that singed the magic carpets and sent Agatha and Sophie quailing from flames. As the drums beat once more, the girl whipped into a whirling belly dance, punctuating each move with a wild whistle or trill.

“One look at her, and Tedros will forget all about his wish maker,” said Sophie coldly.

“Sophie, I’m sorry.” Agatha shifted closer to her friend. “I really am.” Sophie shifted away.

“I’d never lose you for a boy,” Agatha prodded. But eyeing the dancing girl, she suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy. . . . Had Tedros seen her?

She crushed the thought. Tedros wanted to kill her best friend and she was still thinking of him? He’s the enemy, you idiot!

Stefan’s face haunted her, begging her to return Sophie home safe. Where was the Agatha who’d do anything to protect her best friend? The one who had control over her feelings? The one who was Good?

By now, the rows behind started to echo the leader’s dance, flowing with crisp hand movements. Then, with a sudden flourish, the girls all turned to each other and danced in pairs. Hands brushed and clasped as they touched backs before lifting arms and switching places, never losing the touch of their palms. In their glinting blue harem pants and white veils, they looked like swaying sea anemones. Despite the storm in her heart, Sophie managed a smile. She had never seen something so beautiful. Then again, she’d never seen girls dance without boys.

Agatha didn’t like Sophie’s expression. “Sophie, I need to talk to Tedros.” “No.”

“I said I’m sorry. You have to let me fix it—”

“No.”

“The fool thinks I want you killed!” Agatha said, smacking away a blue butterfly on her shoulder. “I’m the only one who can make him see reason.” “A prince who thinks he’s School Master, bet half his fortune on my head, and you think he’ll see reason,” Sophie said, letting the butterfly perch on her. “I’m surprised Good ever wins if it’s this naive.” Agatha glanced at the Dean’s back to them. She couldn’t possibly eavesdrop with the drums pounding and the dancing girl hooting like a hyena, but Agatha had the strange feeling she could hear everything.

“Sophie, I lost myself for a moment,” she whispered. “It was a mistake.” Sophie watched the lead girl spew another jet of fire. “Maybe the Dean is right,” she said, not whispering at all. “Maybe I should stay here.” “What? We don’t even know where she came from, let alone how she’s Dean! You saw the look on Professor Dovey’s face. You can’t trust her—” “Right now, I trust her more than I trust you.”

Agatha could have sworn she saw the Dean grin. “You’re not safe here, Sophie! Tedros will come for you!” “Let him. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I want you home alive!” Agatha begged. “I want us to forget ever coming to the School for Good and Evil! I don’t want Tedros!” Sophie whirled, snarling. “Then why did you wish for him?”

Agatha froze.

“Let the gifts begin!” the Dean decreed.

“Gifts!” Sophie spun from Agatha, beaming. “At last, some good news.” She sidled up to the Dean as the veiled girls fanned to the walls like a clamshell opening, leaving a wide aisle down the middle.

Agatha followed warily, remembering what this world had once done to her and her best friend. The longer they stayed here, the longer they were in danger. She had to get Sophie home now.

Moving into the sunlight of a small window, she noticed the museum exhibits had changed. Evidence of boys’ achievements had all been stripped and replaced with relics from her and Sophie’s fairy tale: Agatha’s Evergirl uniform, Sophie’s Lunchtime Lectures sign, Agatha’s note to Sophie during the Trial by Tale, the slashed lock of hair from Sophie’s Doom Room punishment, and dozens of others, each enshrined in a blue-tinted glass case. On the main wall, the Ever After mural, which once celebrated the marriage of prince and princess, was now covered with a navy canvas, embroidered with butterflies. Indeed, the only holdover was Professor Sader’s old nook of paintings off the far corner. As a seer who could glimpse the future, the former History teacher had once drawn paintings of every Reader who had come from Gavaldon to the School for Good and Evil. Whenever Agatha needed answers, she always drifted back to these paintings, finding new clues. All she wanted was to study them again now, but there were two veiled girls marching towards her down the aisle, carrying an enormous purple vase.

“From Maidenvale,” said Dean Sader, honeyed voice now deep and commanding. “An urn from Princess Riselda, who like hundreds of others heard your story and realized she’d be happier without her prince. She had his throne burned and offers the ashes to you.” The girls held up the urn to Sophie and Agatha, who peered at its carving of a prince magically ejected out a castle window to crocodiles below.

“We don’t want it,” Agatha crabbed.

“Shall we put it in my room?” smiled Sophie, turning to the Dean.

“Room?” Agatha blurted. “Sophie, you’re not staying—”

But now two girls were marching down the aisle with oriental, bamboo drapes.

“From Pifflepaff Hills,” the Dean boomed. “A hand-painted tree curtain from Princess Sayuri, who read your tale and realized that without princes, princesses and witches are happier.” Its exquisitely painted bamboo reeds depicted a princess and witch embracing in one panel, while in the other, a prince who looked a lot like Tedros was flogged to a pulp by a beast.

“This is horrible,” Agatha snapped.

“Hang them by my bed,” Sophie chimed to the two veiled girls. “What’s next?” The Dean pointed a gold-lacquered nail down the aisle. “From Netherwood, a tapestry of homeless princes . . .” “I wish Professor Dovey and Lady Lesso could appreciate someone as chic as you,” Sophie fawned to the Dean, as the procession of prince-abusing gifts continued, including prince voodoo dolls, looted prince swords, and a carpet made out of prince hair. “Do classes start today?” The Dean grinned as she glided away. “Including mine.”

“You’re not serious,” Agatha hissed to Sophie. “Now you want to go to class?” “Let’s hope they renovated those rooms made of candy.” Sophie hand combed her hair, readying for the day. “I’m allergic to the smell.” “Sophie, there is a bounty on your head—”

“And lastly, a gift from me,” declared Dean Sader, standing in front of the covered Ever After mural. “Students, your old school taught you balance was about vanquishing Good or Evil. But how can there be balance between Evers and Nevers until there is balance between Boys and Girls? It is no mistake our Readers have returned to join our school, for their fairy tale remains unfinished.” She looked right at the two girls. “And the battle for its ending just begun.” She let the canvas fall. Agatha and Sophie drew breaths.

The words EVER AFTER, giant and glimmering, still peeked from painted clouds at the top of the mural in gold block letters. Everything else had been redone.

Now the scene depicted two sprawling blue-glass castles around a lake, as girls in azure uniforms gathered on tower balconies, basked on the lakeshores, and strolled the gated grounds. Some of these girls were beautiful, some were ugly, but they worked, lived, and idled together without division, as if witches and princesses were always meant to be friends.

There were boys in the painting too, if one could call them that. With black peasant rags and ogrishly distorted faces, they scooped manure, raked a blue forest behind the castle, and built up the towers in miserable chain gangs before retreating to filthy prison slums at the fringes of the gates. Female overseers drove them like chattel and the boys put up no fight, slaves resigned to eternal servitude. Agatha’s eyes rose to the top of the painting, where haloed in sun two women with crystal diadems surveyed their kingdom from the highest balcony. . . .

“It’s us,” Sophie gasped.

“It’s . . . this school,” scowled Agatha.

“Your true Ever After,” the Dean said, stepping between them. “Captains of these hallowed halls, leading girls to a princeless future.” Agatha grimaced at the vision of Everboys and Neverboys hated and enslaved. “This school isn’t our ending,” she said, turning to Sophie. “Tell her we have to leave!” But Sophie was gazing at the painting, eyes wide. “How do we make it come true?” Agatha stiffened.

“How all heroes win their happy ending, dear,” the Dean said, touching both their shoulders. “By facing the enemy.” She grinned out the window at Tedros’ tower. “And slaying him.” Agatha and Sophie locked eyes in surprise.

“My cherished students!” The Dean swept her hand over the crowd. “Welcome our Readers back to school!” With a roar, the mob tore off their veils and rushed the two girls.

“You’re home!” gushed Reena, embracing Agatha with freckly Millicent, while green-skinned Mona and one-eyed Arachne smooshed Sophie into a hug— “Didn’t know we were friends—” Sophie croaked, suffocated—

“We’re on your side against Tedros,” Arachne cheered, Millicent on her arm as if Evers and Nevers were suddenly bosom buddies. “All of us!” “You’re our heroes,” Reena said to Agatha, who noticed the Arabian princess looked a bit bigger in the bottom. “You and Sophie taught us the truth about boys!” Agatha fumbled for words before a shrieking blur bear-hugged her and Sophie. “My roommates!” Beatrix yipped. “Aren’t you excited? The Dean put you both with me!” Neither Sophie nor Agatha had time to process this cataclysm, because they were goggling at something more alarming— “Your hair!” Sophie cried.

“No boys means no need to look like stupid princesses,” Beatrix said, rubbing her shaved head proudly. “Think about how much time I wasted last year on Tedros and Balls and beautifying all day. And for what? Now I read, I study, I learned to speak Elf. . . . I finally know what’s going on in our world!” “But what about Beautification?” Sophie fretted.

“That’s long gone. There is no beauty or ugliness at the School for Girls!” said Reena, who, Sophie saw with horror, wasn’t wearing a shred of makeup. “We wear pants, we don’t do our nails . . . we even eat cheese!” Sophie gagged and looked for the Dean, but butterflies were trailing her out of the gallery. “But surely some lipstick is allowed—” “You can do whatever you want!” Arachne said, showing off a smatter of hideous blush on both cheeks. “Nevers can groom, Evers don’t have to. It’s all your choice!” Millicent leaned in with a grin. “I haven’t washed my hair for a month.” Sophie and Agatha both recoiled, only for the latter to be tackled by a yelping heap— “Eeeeeeyiiiiiiii! You’re here! My best friend in the whole world!” Kiko gave Sophie a phony smile. “And you too.” Then Kiko hugged Agatha again, her brown, almond-shaped eyes tearing up. “You don’t know how much I prayed for you to come back! It’s like heaven here! Wait until you take History—the Dean teaches it and we go into the stories—and there’s dance lessons and a school newspaper and a book club and we put on a play instead of a Ball and we can sleep in each other’s rooms and—” Kiko couldn’t finish because there were flocks of girls besieging Sophie and Agatha now, each girl acting as if she was their best friend too.

Agatha tried to fend off her horde and lunged to Sophie across the masses. “We have to get out of here right no—” She tripped and landed face-first. “Will you sign my story-book?” Giselle asked, black hair sheared into a blue mohawk. Agatha crawled back like a crab into more clamoring fans.

As girls thrust books, cards, body parts for Sophie to sign, Beatrix forced the girls into a receiving line and let them pay tribute one by one. Sophie could hardly tell who was from Good and who from Evil anymore, since more of the Evergirls had hacked their hair and let their figures go, while a large number of Nevergirls were experimenting with makeup and diets.

Meanwhile, Agatha finally extricated herself from her gaggle. But just as she grabbed Sophie’s arm to end this idiocy, she froze still.

The dancing girl shuffled towards them in her sky-blue veil. Gangly as an egret, she didn’t so much walk as tiptoe, the heels of her white slippers never touching the ground. She pattered down the aisle, past gaping girls, until she stopped sharply in front of the two Readers. The girl raised her head of flowing, red hair and lifted the veil from her face.

Sophie and Agatha were both very confused.

She didn’t look like any girl they’d ever seen, and yet she seemed almost familiar. She had a long, pointy nose, a strong jaw, and close-set blue eyes. Her neck was strangely long, and her cropped blouse revealed perfect stomach muscles that rippled beneath her pale, freckled skin. The girl smiled ethereally, looked into their eyes, and unleashed a low squawk that made Sophie and Agatha jump. Then she blew them a kiss, replaced her veil, and shuffled out of the hall.

All the girls watched her in dumb silence until the mob started pushing towards Sophie and Agatha again and Beatrix blew her whistle.

“What was that?” Agatha said to Kiko as she crankily signed an autograph.

“Her name is Yara,” Kiko whispered. “No one knows how she got in! Doesn’t speak, doesn’t eat, far as we can tell, and disappears all the time. Probably has nowhere to live, poor thing. But the Dean lets her stay out of the goodness of her heart. Some people think she’s half stymph.” Agatha frowned, thinking of the bony, carnivorous birds that hated Nevers. “How can someone be half stym—” She lost her train of thought, because Sophie had culled the girls all to herself, smiling imperiously, signing autographs, and kissing cheeks, as if she’d finally found her way home.

“Can I help you fight boys?” Arachne hollered.

“Can I be your Vice Captain?” yelled Giselle.

“Can I be your Vice-Vice Captain?” echoed Flavia.

“Sit with my group for lunch!” Millicent called.

“No, sit with us!” Mona countered—

“How glorious it is to have fans again,” Sophie said, ignoring Agatha’s horrified look and dotting an autograph with hearts. “Here I am trying to get home where no one wants me, and instead stumble upon paradise, where everyone does.” “If you’re miserable with Beatrix, don’t worry,” Kiko said, noticing Agatha’s glum face. “You can always stay with me.” Agatha turned to her, and Kiko suddenly understood. “You aren’t staying, are you?” Kiko rasped.

The crowd went silent around her.

“Now tell me about this school play,” Sophie said loudly to Reena. “Have you cast the lead par—” She stopped, for all the students had followed Agatha’s gaze out the window. Across the bay, fog brewed thicker around the grisly red castle.

“If we stay, we’re starting war,” Agatha said to the girls. “All of you would be in danger.” She turned to Sophie. “You heard the professors. We can fix what I’ve done without anyone dying. Not you. Not Tedros. Not anyone here. We wish for each other, and we can forget this school ever happened.” She touched her friend’s shoulder. “It’s Evil if we stay, Sophie. And you’re not Evil.” Sophie slowly gazed up at a sea of blameless girls, who would no doubt die at the hands of Tedros and his red hoods. Only Agatha had forgotten the Dean’s warning. They could go home as long as both of them meant their wish. But Sophie knew Agatha couldn’t mean a wish for her friend. Agatha couldn’t forget this school.

Because a friend wasn’t enough for Agatha anymore.

Agatha wanted a prince.

“We’ll hide in the Blue Forest and come up with a plan,” Agatha said to her quietly, anxious to escape before the Dean returned. “Maybe we can mogrify into the Boys’ school.” Crestfallen, Sophie said nothing—

Until she met her own eyes in the painting on the wall.

Atop the castle in her crystal crown, she looked just like someone she knew, with the same goldspun blond hair, emerald eyes, and ivory skin. Someone who too had lost her happy ending to a boy. Someone who had died all alone because of it.

“You are too beautiful for this world, Sophie.”

It was the last thing her mother had ever said.

She wanted me to find it, Sophie thought, this world where she wouldn’t end like her mother.

A world where she and Agatha would be happy forever.

A world where a boy could never come between them.

A world without princes.

And only one prince stood in her way, Sophie gritted, tears glistening.

A prince that Agatha would surely forget once he was dead.

“It isn’t Evil, Aggie,” Sophie vowed. “This school is our only hope.” Agatha tightened. “Sophie, what are you—”

“He says he wants me?” Sophie bellowed to her waiting army. She bared teeth at Tedros’ castle.

“Then let him come for me.”

The girls let out a raucous cheer and mobbed their new leader.

“Death to Tedros!”

“Death to Boys!”

Agatha drained of color as Sophie met her eyes and vanished into the swarm.

One wish, and she’d set a war in motion. A war between two sides fighting for her heart. A war between two people she loved. A war between her best friend and a prince.

Agatha’s soul scorched with guilt, a promise to a father gone up in flames.

I need help, she prayed, watching Sophie blow kisses to her soldiers. Someone who could see through all this. Someone to tell her who was Good this time and who was Evil.

As she retreated from the horde, she noticed an odd glint from the corner, hovering near the floor in Sader’s dark nook of paintings. Slowly two tiny yellow eyes floated towards her, like suspended marbles. Two more suddenly glowed next to them, then two more, as hunched shadows pattered from behind a marble column.

The three black rats glowered at Agatha as if she’d said the magic words. Then they skittered through the back doors to lead her to their master.