The School for Good and Evil #2: A World without Princes (24 page)

Sophie and Agatha choked.

Agatha whirled to Lady Lesso and Professor Dovey, who both looked at her equally scared, as if they knew last night had gone all wrong, even if the ever-present butterflies would preclude them from knowing how.

“Class challenges will continue until the Trial, with the eight highest-ranked students chosen for the team.” The Dean's shiny eyes fell upon Sophie and Agatha. “Our Captains' two spots are
guaranteed
, of course, given it is their lives that are in the balance.”

Both girls went a shade whiter. “But there's no way to beat boys, Aggie! They're faster, stronger,
meaner
—” Sophie whispered. “We have to get home now or we're dead!”

“There is no way home!” Aggie hissed back. “Tedros still has the Storian!”

Sophie moaned and slumped against her.

Then Sophie slowly straightened, eyes wide.

Agatha saw her face and recoiled in horror. “Sophie, you can't possibly be thinking—”

“You said it yourself! Our wish will work now!” Sophie whispered. “We can write ‘The End'—forever this time! All we need is that pen!”

“Are you insane! There's an army of boys thirsting to kill us! And even if by dumb luck we get past them, Tedros will never let us near that tower! There's no way—”

“There has to be, Agatha,” Sophie pressed her. “Or we both die before a very big audience.”

Agatha felt sick to her stomach. Around her, she saw the other girls whispering to each other, absorbing the reality of a lethal contest against boys.

“For those of you plotting poor ranks to
avoid
selection for the team, you should rethink,” the Dean said as a few butterflies floated back into her dress. “After all, your rankings will determine your third-year tracks, with the lowliest of you poised to become animals or plants.” Girls stopped chattering, as if the Dean had overheard their schemes. “Finally, given the unfortunate
failure
of Lady Lesso's shield, nymphs will take over nighttime guard duties at the perimeter.”

Lady Lesso stared at her pointy steel shoe tips, her pale cheeks pinking.

“All classes and events will proceed normally,” the Dean continued, “including our school play, to be unveiled on Trial eve.” She smiled at Professor Sheeks, who didn't smile back. “Clubs and extracurricular activities should go on as usual—”

“Book Club tonight!” Dot chirped loudly, waving at her friends. “Book Club in the Supper Hall—”

Anadil's shoe rammed her bottom, and Dot yelped.

“Given the current state of the castle, classes will resume tomorrow,” the Dean finished, the torches dimming behind her. “I encourage you to rest for the difficult weeks ahead. The boys will not go down without a fight.”

Murmuring girls followed the teachers out. Professor Dovey and Lady Lesso hovered behind for Agatha, clearly desperate to speak to her, but the Dean ushered them away with the rest.

Agatha slouched miserably as she watched them go, just as desperate for their help. She heard the witches chattering ahead.

“I bet Yara could beat the boys,” said Dot. “Seen her muscles?”

“Yara?” Hester scoffed, batting away a butterfly. “No one's seen her for days. For all we know, a crog ate her.”

“You really think she's half stymph?”

“She's half
something
,” Anadil murmured, rats following her through the frosted door.

Agatha shambled ahead as Sophie sidled up beside her.

“Look, we still have ten days to get the pen, Aggie,” Sophie prodded, seeing her friend's morose face. “One wish, and we're safe from boys forever.”

Agatha frowned deeper, and Sophie knew why.

After last night, the chance of getting that pen was as slim as their chance to win a Trial.

“They'll never get it now,” Tedros grunted, holding down the floundering Storian with his foot. Tristan replaced the missing brick, sealing the pen beneath the tower's floor.

They could still hear the Storian thrashing.

“Help me move the table,” Tedros said, and Tristan eagerly pulled his side of the heavy stone table over the loose brick, muffling the pen. As Tedros adjusted the table, Tristan stealthily dug his boot tip into the brick, leaving a scratch mark.

“There.” Tedros glowered at Sophie and Agatha's open storybook on the table. “Let them try to write ‘The End' now.”

“SLAVES?”
Ravan's voice echoed outside. “IF WE LOSE WE END UP
SLAVES
?”

Tedros leaned out the window and watched Everboys, Neverboys, and scores of new princes mobbing the catwalks between towers, as Aric's henchmen confronted them with clubs—

“CAN'T BARTER AWAY OUR LIVES IN SOME COCKAMAMIE TRIAL!” Chaddick bellowed, hurling stones uselessly at the School Master's tower.

“You promised war!” yelled a new prince, stabbing his finger up at Tedros.

“War! War! War!”
boys and princes howled as they battered the henchmen back into the towers.

The prince chewed on his lip. “Take away Good and Evil, and boys just want treasure and blood.”

“Look, they need you down there,” Tristan offered. “You have to make it a real school again. Like the girls did.” He sneaked a glance at the marked brick. “Plus you might want a nap—or a bath, even—”

“Do I smell that bad?” Tedros said, sniffing himself.

“N-n-no—” Tristan's cheeks glowed as red as his hair—

Yowls echoed below as they watched a henchman flee from Hort, who chased him with fistfuls of flaming rat poo, hissing like a weasel. Tedros sagged, discouraged.

Suddenly the prince's eyes flared wide. “Tristan, you're right! They do need me!”

Tristan lit up with relief, practically shoving the prince towards the window—until Tedros shot his gold glow into the castle to call Aric.

“But I can guard alone!” Tristan insisted.

“Let Aric do it.” The prince heaved the heavy coils of blond hair off the floor and flung them out the window. “You and I have a job to do.”

“A j-j-j-job?” Tristan sputtered—

“Come on.” Tedros shoved him towards the rope. “We're bringing the teachers back.”

Located on the first floor of Charity Tower, the girls' Supper Hall was circular like a bull ring and brightly lit, crammed with glass tables of different shapes. Dot had chosen it specifically for Book Club meetings because the enchanted pots in the kitchen provided punch and sandwiches, while the Dean's eavesdropping butterflies stayed away, put off by the clattering plates, assaulting aromas, and overlapping conversations.

At precisely half past eight, Dot hustled down the stairs, expecting a healthy crowd after
Shame:
The Secret Life of Prince Charming
brought in a bevy of new members the week before. Hester had mentioned a meeting with Agatha and Sophie after supper, but Dot couldn't be bothered. With her teeth brushed, makeup retouched, and discussion questions prepared, Dot cleared her throat and grabbed the door—only to notice a sign posted on it.

BOOK CLUB CANCELLED INDEFINITELY

DUE TO STUGGLES WITH ANOREXIA,
EVER – WAN-NABE DISORDER,
AND IRRITABLE BOWEL SYNDROME

DOT

Dot screeched, throwing open the door. “What in the—”

Bunched against the wall of the deserted room, Anadil, Hester, Agatha, and Sophie huddled near each other.

“Will you help us or not?” Sophie said, glaring at Hester.

“Fine,” Hester grouched. “But only because I'd rather not see Agatha die. You, I'd pay to see publicly executed.”

Sophie gasped.

“Look, Sophie's right. This is our only hope to escape alive,” Agatha said, though still sounding unsure whether a public beheading was worse than going back to the boys' castle. “Tedros has probably hidden the Storian by now. We need a spell that can let us stay in that school long enough to find it.”

“Invisibility?” offered Anadil.

“Two of us? Way too easy to get caught,” said Sophie, knowing Aric had surely found her trail by now.

“How about crossing the bridge barrier again?” Hester said to Agatha.

“They'll surely have guards there after last night,” Agatha said—

All at once, the girls noticed Dot at the door, red-faced and glaring. “Irritable
Bowel
Syndrome?”

“Seemed fitting, given your predilection for hiding in toilets,” said Anadil.

“But you can't cancel Book Club!” Dot mewled, tearing up. “It's how I made friends—”

“And we need privacy, so this is your Book Club now, which is appropriate, given we're your
real
friends. Now sit down and shut it,” Hester lashed. Dot obeyed, still sniffling.

“There has to be a way to talk to Dovey or Lesso,” Sophie urged, “or even Professor Sheeks—”

“It's too dangerous,” said Agatha, for she had yet to see any teacher free of the Dean's minions. “The Dean even suspects what we're up to, and she'll trap us here. You heard her. She thinks we can
win
this Trial!”

“Can't you just Mogrify?” Dot moaned—

“No,”
Sophie and Agatha said at the same time.

Agatha stared at her friend.

“I mean, I know nothing about their school since I've never been there, but it's obvious, right?” Sophie rambled, beading with sweat. “Boys would protect against it.”

Agatha peered harder at her. Sophie could feel her cheeks turning cranberry red. . . .

Agatha turned back to the witches. “See, Sophie gets it. We need something unexpected.”

Sophie exhaled, smiling tightly. One day she'd tell Agatha where she'd been last night. One day when they were back home, stronger and happier than ever.

“Let's meet here every night until we have a plan,” Hester said, then noticed Dot shaking her head. “If you're still sulking about your idiotic Book Club—”

“It's not that,” Dot said, furrowing. “Don't you think it's strange that Tedros
attacked
Agatha?”

Sophie bristled. “He tried to kill her last year—”

“Because
you
were there last year, ruining things,” Dot shot back. “Tedros loves Agatha! He'd never attack her with magic.” Dot turned a stray fork into bok choy, thinking hard. “Feels like there's a piece missing.”

Dot looked up and saw Agatha gazing at her.

“Only piece missing is how to sneak into the boys' school,” Sophie snapped, and steered the conversation back to the plan. “We need to search the library for spells—”

Agatha tried to pay attention, but her eyes kept drifting back to Dot. . . .

“Agatha?” Sophie frowned. “Can you come then?”

Agatha jolted to attention. “Sure—of course—”

All of a sudden, she noticed something on Sophie's wrist, peeking from under her cloak . . . tiny patterned cuts, thinly scabbed over. Struck by a familiar feeling, Agatha tried to squint closer, but a flurry of noise rose outside and the girls turned—just in time to see the doors fly open and Pollux stumble in, head atop a dead ostrich, scowling with suspicion at a book club that didn't seem to have any books.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

W
ith Christmastime coming, the butterflies used the night to pull tinsel and starry lights around the tallest pine tree in the Blue Forest, as if a deadly Trial shouldn't deter from festive traditions.

By dawn, the boys had urinated on it from their windows and set it aflame.

As Lady Lesso awarded ranks, Sophie passed notes with Anadil and Hester about paths into the boys' school. In the next aisle, Agatha leaned her frozen chair back, squinting at the faint marks on Sophie's wrist.

It was only noon, but Trial Tryouts were in full swing. Each of the class challenges involved slaying phantom princes that the teachers conjured to be as vile as possible, lunging at the girls with zombified faces and sickening screams. Indeed, the teachers seemed to have lost all reluctance, with even Professor Anemone sanctioning the most vicious deaths. Lives were at stake now, and the teachers fully invested in finding the best possible team.

Sophie and Agatha resolved to act enthused through all of it so the Dean wouldn't suspect their impending plans to escape. And indeed, Sophie played her part well, dispatching boy phantoms with alarming vengeance, cheering on her fellow classmates, and remaining immune from the frightening witch symptoms that had plagued her days before. Even more, Agatha noticed Sophie back to her jaunty old self now, chummily grabbing her arm between classes, romanticizing their coming return to Gavaldon, and acting as if Agatha's visit to Tedros had simply never happened.

“Elders won't hurt us if there're no more attacks . . . and I'll just spend time at your house instead of mine. . . . ,” Sophie considered as they'd walked to Lesso's. “Maybe I'll even get my own show after all!”