The School for Good and Evil #2: A World without Princes (30 page)

The back of her heel struck something wet.

She looked down and saw a tiny puddle under the bedskirt, where the melting snow had pooled behind something. She slid onto her stomach and extended her arm under the mattress, until it touched a thick, rubbery mass. Slowly Agatha pulled out a ball of clothes, which unraveled in her hands, revealing a black-and-red leather uniform, scrunched in with a thin snakeskin cape.

Agatha held up the uniform, speckled with blood and dirt. Why was Beatrix hiding a boys' uniform? Had she found one somewhere in the Blue Forest? Why hadn't she mentioned it? Agatha's fingers drifted to the cape's shimmering, black-hued scales. Last year, she'd learned that snakeskin capes were invariably used for one purpose: invisibility. But why would Beatrix need to be invisible in her own castle?

A strong whiff of lavender came off the cape and Agatha sneezed. Beatrix may have given up her princess hair, but she'd certainly been borrowing Sophie's perfume.

Agatha shoved the clothes back under the bed, quite sure that Beatrix's oddities had nothing to do with her dilemma. What she and Sophie needed was a teacher's help—

A soft sound scratched behind her. Agatha turned to see an envelope peeking under the door. Taking it into her hands, she tore open Professor Dovey's pumpkin-sealed stationery and pulled out a small parchment card.

Sewers. Now.

The one place they couldn't be overheard.

Agatha saw then that she didn't need to confess what she and Sophie had done.

Her fairy godmother already knew.

“Yuba has told us everything,” Professor Dovey said, huddling with Lady Lesso in the dark, misty sewer tunnels as water from the lake roared past, muffling her voice. “And we are appalled, revolted, and flabbergasted at the inanity of such a
ridiculous
plan—”

Agatha glued her eyes down, reddening.

“—but also quite impressed.”

Agatha gawked up at her smiling teachers.
“What?”

“Anything that involves tormenting that flower-scented ninny earns a gold star in my book,” Lady Lesso drawled.

Professor Dovey ignored her colleague. “Agatha, you could have sacrificed your friend to stay here forever with your prince. You could have kissed Tedros and protected your own life. Instead, you chose to protect Sophie's from him, even knowing her symptoms,” she said. “Only when you write ‘The End' with Sophie will Tedros realize he should have trusted you.”

Agatha felt wisps of her dream returning and squelched them, alarmed—

“The prince's humbling lesson will spread far and wide,” Professor Dovey went on, “and Lady Lesso and I believe it a lesson powerful enough to bring Boys and Girls back together. The correct ending to your story, after all. And all we need is for Sophie to bring back that pen so you two can write it.”

Agatha quickly nodded relief—only to remember a bigger problem. “But how will we cover for her!”

“Yuba's too good a teacher to leave that in doubt,” Professor Dovey said, glancing back down the tunnel. “Seeing your places are both guaranteed for the Trial team, he sent word to the Dean as Helga, asking to personally train you in the Blue Forest for the remaining three days, assuring her it will increase your chances of victory over the boys.”

Agatha's eyes bulged. “And?”

“She's rather surprisingly agreed, provided you're both ready to compete on Trial eve. She thinks you're both with Helga as of this morning.”

“That solves everything!” Agatha gushed with relief—

“Not quite,” Lady Lesso snapped, rushing sewer water flecking her gown. “There still remains the question of where Sophie's symptoms have gone.”

“She said they were conjured by someone else—” Agatha defended.

“Indeed,” said Lady Lesso. “But a witch's symptoms cannot be conjured, unless by magic far more formidable than ours. So there're two possibilities. First, that Sophie is
lying
about forgiving your wish for Tedros, and you've, in fact, sent a deadly witch to your prince.”

“No,” Agatha said forcefully. “Sophie's Good now. I know it.”

“Are you sure she's Good, Agatha?” said Professor Dovey, exchanging looks with her colleague. “This is absolutely crucial.”

“After what she just did to get me home?” Agatha shot back. “100% sure.”

“Then the symptoms were surely conjured by a powerful force,” said Professor Dovey, “a force that happened to be in each and every place that Sophie's symptoms appeared. A force Lady Lesso and I have been trying to
warn
you of since your arrival.”

Agatha heard the answer in her scolding tone. “Dean
Sader
?” she blurted. “It can't be! She wants us friends—”

“Evelyn is a dangerous woman, Agatha,” said Lady Lesso, tensing with that strange fear Agatha had seen before. “If she conjured Sophie's symptoms, there's no reason to believe she wants you and Sophie friends at all.”

Agatha gaped at her. “But she'd never want me to think Sophie a
witch
—”

“You know
nothing
of Evelyn Sader and what she is capable of,” Lady Lesso retorted, eyes suddenly wet.

“What? How would you—”

“Because Clarissa and I watched Evelyn Sader
evicted
from this school ten years ago!” spat Lady Lesso, red-faced. “The same school that is now on her
side
.”

Agatha stared at her, stunned.

“Who's there?” a voice echoed behind them. They twirled to see a shadow down the tunnel, creeping through the fog.

Professor Dovey stiffened and grabbed Agatha's shoulders. “Once you are banished, the school never lets you return! But your and Sophie's fairy tale somehow let her back
in
, Agatha. She's part of your story now, just like the School Master was a year ago. And if she conjured Sophie's symptoms, surely she too has an ending in mind.”

Agatha shook her head. “But Sophie's getting the Storian—”

“You don't think Evelyn has
thought of that
?” Lady Lesso hissed. “Evelyn's always one step ahead, Agatha! For the next three days, she thinks you are in the Blue Forest. This is your chance to follow her undetected until Sophie returns. You must find out
why
Evelyn conjured Sophie's symptoms! You must succeed where Clarissa and I have failed. Spend your time wisely, understand? It is the only way to ensure you and Sophie escape alive! Now go!”

Agatha could barely speak. “I don't—I don't understand—”

Dovey and Lesso were already retreating. “We cannot meet again,” Dovey ordered—

“I said who's there!” the voice bellowed.

Agatha whirled to the shadow breaking through fog. She spun back—“How do I—”

But Dovey and Lesso were gone.

Seconds later, Pollux poked through to a deserted sewer bank and huffed back upstairs, forgetting to check the sewer itself, where a terrified girl clung to the wall, neck deep in churning waters, wishing she could talk to her best friend.

“Never thought I'd have a prince as a best friend,” Hort motormouthed, hustling through Evil's sewers.

“Where are we going? Said you were taking me to my room,” Sophie said, steeling the nerves out of her voice as it echoed over the red mud roiling through the dank tunnels. She plodded behind him on the thin path in her sleeveless black-and-red leather uniform, bumping her bulky shoulders into the wall, still unused to all the extra weight. In the shiny mud, she caught a glimpse of her fluffy blond hair, chiseled jaw, veiny biceps, and quickly averted her eyes.

“Tried to make 'em bunk us together, but they already put a prince from Ginnyvale in my room,” Hort said, peeping back at the new boy. “School's strict now that the teachers are back. If you ask me, Aric and his henchmen make those old wolves look cuddly. But don't worry. I'll keep my best friend outta trouble.”

Sophie frowned. How was it that even as a boy, she couldn't escape this rodent? She saw the sewer midpoint in the distance, the division between moat and lake sealed by giant rocks. “But I still don't understand. Why are we down her—”

“
Where
is it!” Manley's voice boomed ahead, over the churning red sludge.

“I showed you where I buried it,” Tedros' voice insisted—

“And it's not
there
. As long as you keep lying, there'll continue to be no food.”

“It's those two girls! They're hiding in the castle!”

“Think we wouldn't know if a girl was in our castle?” Manley's voice sneered. “That pen is still
somewhere
in the School Master's tower, or the tower would have
moved
to follow it. Now tell me where you hid it, or I'll melt your father's sword and gild the toilets with it—”

“I told you! It was buried under the table!”

Sophie's heart stopped.
The Storian . . . missing?
How could she and Agatha write ‘The End' now?

Suddenly placing first in the day's challenges was even more crucial, she thought, panicked. If the pen was hidden in that tower, she'd need time to find it.

Stomach churning, she followed behind Hort, skirting the sewer wall as it turned to the rusted grating of a pitch-dark dungeon cell. In the corner, Manley's bald head and bulbous shadow obscured the figure beneath him.

“Please, professor, you have to let me into the Trial,” Tedros' voice begged. “I'm the only one who can beat those girls!”

“You'll die of starvation long before the Trial if we don't find that pen,” Manley said, turning for the cell door.

He saw the new boy gaping at him through the grating. “Boys don't like a liar, Filip. Tedros promises the boys he'll kiss Agatha. Promises he'll fix the schools to Good and Evil. And what do they get instead? A chance at
slavery
. Ain't it a wonder all the boys hate him now,” Manley sneered, pulling the door open. He shoved the new boy into the cell as he left. “Whole school's on your side today, Filip. Teach this puffed-up cockerel a lesson.”

Sophie swiveled. “W-w-wait—”

Hort slammed the cell door. “See you in class, Filip!”

“Hort! This can't be my
room
!” Sophie cried, gripping the grates—

But the weasel was already charging after Manley, chattering with excitement. “He'll beat Tedros so bad today, professor. You'll see . . .”

Sophie slowly turned to the rotted dungeon lit by a single candle. A chilling collection of torture instruments hung on the walls in steel cages, over two metal bed frames without mattresses or pillows. She couldn't breathe, thinking of what happened here a year ago with the Beast. This place made her Evil. This place made her lose control. Sophie turned away, panicked—

Two bloodshot eyes glowed from the corner.

Sophie staggered back.

“Is it true?” said Tedros' voice out of darkness.

“What is?” Sophie breathed, keeping her tone low.

“The worst of us in Trial Tryouts gets punished each night.”

“That's what the dog said.”

Slowly Tedros rose from shadows. He was at least twenty pounds thinner, his boys' uniform crusted with dirt, his blue eyes inflamed.

“Then we ain't gonna be
friends
, are we?”

Sophie stepped back from the prince skulking towards her, teeth bared.

“I'm making that Trial. You hear me, boy?” he sneered, spit flying. “Those two girls took everything I have left in this world. My friends, my reputation, my honor—” He grabbed the new boy by the throat and jammed him against the grating. “I'm not going to let you or anyone else take my chance at fighting them.”

Choking in his grip, Sophie held up her hands in surrender. She had to get out of here! She had to get out of this body! She couldn't last as a boy—

Suddenly a shot of unfamiliar anger tore through her blood, searing away the fear. Her mind went strangely clear, zeroing in like crosshairs on the boy pinning her—the boy who'd taken her princess dreams . . . the boy who'd almost taken her only friend . . . the boy now trying to take her and her friend's lives. Alien strength blasted through her new muscles with hormonal rage, and before she knew it, she'd shoved the prince back with a roar.

“Quite the bully, aren't you, for someone who lost his princess to a
girl
,” she snarled, startled by the darkness in her voice.

Tedros loosened his grip, just as stunned, and watched his new cellmate seize him by the collar. “I see why she chose Sophie,” the stranger lashed at him. “Sophie gives her friendship, loyalty, sacrifice, love. All the powers of Good. What do you have to give her? You're weak, empty, callow, and
boring
. All you have is your pretty face.” The new boy pulled the prince closer and their noses touched. “And now I see what's under it.”

Tedros turned beet red. “I see an overgrown elf with puffy hair who knows nothing about me—”

“You know what I see?” The stranger's emerald eyes cut into his.
“Nothing.”

The fight seeped out of Tedros' face. For a moment, he looked like a little boy.

“W-w-who are you?” he stammered.

“Name's Filip to you,” said Sophie, ice-cold, and let go of him.

Tedros turned away, catching his breath. Sophie could see his rattled face in the metal bed's reflection and held in a grin.

Suddenly she liked being a boy.

Keys jangled outside. The two boys turned to see Aric's hooded henchman pull open the cell door.

“Time for class,” he growled.

Two hundred boys competing for the day's first rank. Two hundred boys standing between her and the Storian. Sophie galumphed awkwardly to catch up with the herd of fellow uniformed boys, driving towards Evil's classrooms. The odds weren't good.

She wiped sweat from her armpits, irritated by how much her new body perspired. If she'd known boys were insufferably hot
all the time
, she'd have packed a fan or jug of cold water. Stomach rumbling, she distracted herself with thoughts of lunch. With the size of these boys, they must have a feast planned: roast turkey legs, streaky bacon, succulent ham, rare-cooked steak. . . . She could taste the juicy flank already, saliva foaming—