The School for Good and Evil (9 page)

But he wasn’t. He stared at her through the window, hairy arms folded over red jacket.

“There are worse things than wolves, you know.”

He walked away, leaving her agape.

What? What could possibly be worse than—

Something moved in the rain.

Agatha shielded her eyes and peered through the sparkling blur to see the first stone gargoyle yawn and spread his dragon wings. Then the second gargoyle, with a snake’s head and lion’s trunk, stretched his with a gunshot crack. Then the third, twice as big as the others, with a horned demon head, man’s torso, and studded tail, thrust out jagged wings wider than the tower.

Agatha blanched.
Gargoyles!
What did the dog say about gargoyles!

Their eyes turned to her, viciously red, and she remembered.

Orders to kill.

With a collective shriek, they leapt off their perches. Without their support, the gutter collapsed and she plunged into its water with a scream. The tidal wave of rain slammed her through harrowing turns and drops as the loose beam lurched wildly in the rain. Agatha saw two gargoyles swoop for her and she swerved in the gutter slide just in time. The third, the horned demon, rose up high and blasted fire from its nose. Agatha grabbed onto the rails and the fireball hit in front of her, searing a giant hole in the beam—she skidded short just before she plummeted through. A crushing force tackled her from behind and the dragon-winged gargoyle grabbed her leg in his sharp talons and hoisted her into the air.

“I’m a
student
!” Agatha screamed.

The gargoyle dropped her, startled.

“See!” Agatha cried, pointing at her face. “I’m a
Never
!”

Sweeping down, the gargoyle studied her face to see if this was true.

It grabbed her by the throat to say it wasn’t.

Agatha screamed and stabbed her foot into the burnt hole, deflecting rushing water into the monster’s eye. It stumbled blindly, claws flailing for her, only to fall through the hole and shatter its wing on the balcony below. Agatha held onto the rails for life, fighting terrible pain in her leg. But through the water, she saw another one coming. With an ear-piercing screech, the snake-headed gargoyle tore through the flood and snatched her into the air. Just as its massive jaws yawned to devour her, Agatha thrust her foot between its teeth, which smashed down on her hard black clump and snapped like matchsticks. Dazed, the monster dropped her. Agatha crash-landed in the flooding gutter and gripped the rail.

“
Help!
” she screamed. If she held on, someone would hear and rescue her. “
Helll
—”

Her hands slipped. She careened down eaves, jerking and heaving towards the last spout, where the biggest gargoyle waited, horned like the devil, jaws wide over the spout like an infernal tunnel. Clawing, gurgling, Agatha tried to stop herself, but the rain bashed her along in gushing bursts. She looked down and saw the gargoyle blast fire from its nose, which rocketed across the pipe. Agatha ducked underwater to avoid instant cremation and bobbed back up, clinging to the rail’s edge above the final drop. The next rush of rain would send her right into the gargoyle’s open mouth.

Then she remembered the gargoyles when she first saw them: guarding the gutter, spewing rain from their mouths.

What goes out must come in.

She heard the next wave coming behind her. With a silent prayer, Agatha let go and fell into the demon’s smoking jaws. Just as fire and teeth skewered her, rain smashed through the spout behind her, shooting her through the hole in the gargoyle’s throat and out into the gray sky. She glanced back at the choking gargoyle and let out a scream of relief, which turned to terror as she free-fell. Through the fog, Agatha glimpsed a spiked wall about to impale her, and an open window beneath it. She curled into a desperate ball, just missed the lethal blades, and crashed on her stomach, dripping wet, and coughing up water on the sixth floor of Malice Hall.

“I—thought—gargoyles—were—decoration,” she wheezed.

Clutching her leg, Agatha limped down the dorm hall, hunting for signs of Sophie.

Just as she was about to start pounding on doors, she caught sight of one at the end of the hall, grafittied with a caricature of a blond princess, splashed with painted slurs: LOSER, READER, EVER LOVER.

Agatha knocked hard. “Sophie! It’s me!”

Doors started opening at the other end of the hall.

Agatha pounded harder.
“Sophie!”

Black-robed girls started emerging from their rooms. Agatha jiggled Sophie’s door handle and shoved against the frame, but it wouldn’t budge. Just as the Nevergirls turned, poised to discover the intruder in pink, Agatha took a running start, threw herself against the defaced door of Room 66, which swung open and slammed shut behind her.

“YOU HAVE
NO IDEA
WHAT I WENT THROUGH TO GET HE
—
” She stopped.

Sophie was crouched over a puddle of water on the floor, singing as she applied blush in her reflection.

“I’m a pretty princess, sweet as a pea,

Waiting for my prince to marry me. . . .”

Three bunk mates and three rats watched from across the room, mouths open in shock.

Hester looked up at Agatha. “She flooded our floor.”

“To do her makeup,” said Anadil.

“Whoever heard of anything so evil?” Dot grimaced. “Song included.”

“Is my face even?” Sophie said, squinting into the puddle. “I can’t go to class looking like a clown.” Her eyes shifted. “Agatha,
darling
! About time you came to your senses. Your Uglification class starts in two minutes and you don’t want to make a poor first impression.”

Agatha stared at her.

“Of course,” Sophie said, standing up. “We have to switch clothes first. Come, off they go.”

“You’re not going to class,
darling
,” Agatha said, turning red. “We’re going to the School Master’s tower right now before we’re stuck here forever!”

“Don’t be a boob,” said Sophie, tugging at Agatha’s dress. “We can’t just break into some tower in broad daylight. And if you’re going home anyway, you should give me your clothes now so I don’t miss any assignments.”

Agatha wrenched away. “Okay, that’s
it
! Now listen to—”

“You’ll blend right in here,” Sophie smiled, studying Agatha next to her roommates.

Agatha lost her fire. “Because I’m . . . ugly?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Aggie, look at this place,” Sophie said. “You
like
gloom and doom. You
like
suffering and unhappiness and, um . . . burnt things. You’ll be
happy
here.”

“We agree,” said a voice behind Agatha, and she turned in surprise.

“You come live here,” Hester said to her—

“And she drowns in the lake,” Dot scowled at Sophie, still wounded by her jibe at the Welcoming.

“We liked you the moment we saw you,” Anadil cooed, rats licking Agatha’s feet.

“You belong here with us,” Hester said, as she, Anadil, and Dot crowded around Agatha, whose head swung nervously between this villainous threesome. Did they really want to be her friend? Was Sophie right? Could being a villain make her . . .
happy
?

Agatha’s stomach churned. She didn’t want to be Evil! Not when Sophie was Good! They had to get out of this place before it tore them apart!

“I’m not leaving you!” she cried to Sophie, breaking away.

“No one’s asking you to leave me, Agatha,” Sophie said tightly. “We’re just asking you to leave your clothes.”

“No!” Agatha shouted. “We’re not switching clothes. We’re not switching rooms. We’re not switching schools!”

Sophie and Hester exchanged furtive glances.

“We’re going home!” Agatha said, voice catching. “We can be friends there—on the same side—no Good, no Evil—we’ll be happy forev—”

Sophie and Hester tackled her. Dot and Anadil pulled the pink dress off Agatha’s body, and the four of them shoved Sophie’s black robes on in its place. Shimmying into her new pink dress, Sophie threw open the door. “Goodbye, Evil! Hello, Love!”

Agatha stumbled to her feet and looked down at a putrid black sack that fit just how she liked.

“And all is right in the world,” Hester sighed. “Really, I don’t know how you were ever friends with that tram—”

“Get back here!” Agatha yelled, pursuing Sophie in pink through the hall’s hordes of black. Shocked by an Ever in their midst, Nevers swarmed around Sophie and started to beat her about the head with books, bags, and shoes—

“No! She’s one of us!”

All the Nevers turned to Hort, in the stairwell, including dumbstruck Sophie. Hort pointed at Agatha in black.

“That’s the Ever!”

The Nevers unleashed a new war cry and mobbed Agatha as Sophie shoved Hort away and escaped down the stairs. Agatha scraped through the gauntlet with a few well-placed kicks and slid down the banister to cut Sophie off. With Sophie in sight, she tracked her through a tight corridor, reached out her hand to grab her by the pink collar, but Sophie turned a corner, ran up snaking steps, and veered off the first floor. Agatha swerved into a dead end, saw Sophie magically jump through a wall, blood-splattered “NO STUDENTS!” and with a flying leap, Agatha jumped through the portal right after her—

And landed on the Evil end of Halfway Bridge.

But this was where the chase ceased, for Sophie was too far to Good to catch. Through the fog, Agatha could see her glowing with joy.

“Agatha, he’s King Arthur’s
son
,” Sophie gushed. “A real-life
prince
! But what do I say to him? How do I show him I’m the one?”

Agatha tried to hide her hurt. “You’d leave me here . . . alone?”

Sophie’s face softened.

“Please don’t worry, Aggie. Everything is perfect now,” she said gently. “We’ll still be best friends. Just in different schools, like we planned. No one can stop us from being friends, can they?”

Agatha gazed at Sophie’s beautiful smile and believed her.

But all of a sudden, her friend’s smile vanished. Because on Sophie’s body, the pink dress magically rotted to black. Just like that Sophie was in her old, sagging villain robes, swan glittering over her heart. She looked up and gasped. Across the Bridge, Agatha’s black robes had shrunk back to pink.

The two girls gaped at each other in shock. Suddenly, shadows swept over Sophie, and Agatha spun. The giant wave swelled high above her, waters curling into a shimmering lasso. Before Agatha could run, it swooped and hurled her across the bay into sunlit mist. Sophie lunged to the Bridge’s gloomy edge and let out a wail of injustice.

The wave slowly rose back over her, but this time its waters didn’t shimmer. With a belligerent roar, it smashed Sophie back into the School for Evil and right back on schedule.

7

Grand High Witch Ultimate

“W
hy do we need to uglify?”

Sophie peeked through her fingers at Professor Manley’s bald, pimpled head and squash-colored skin, trying not to gag. Around her, Nevers sat at charred desks with rusty mirrors, cheerily bashing tadpoles to death in iron bowls. If she didn’t know better, she’d think they were making a Sunday cake.

Why am I still here?
she fumed through furious tears.

“Why do we need to be revolting and repugnant?” Manley jowled. “Hester!”

“Because it makes us fearsome,” Hester said, and swigged her tadpole juice, instantly springing a rash of red pox.

“Wrong!” roared Manley. “Anadil!”

“Because it makes little boys cry,” Anadil said, sprouting her own red blisters.

“Wrong! Dot!”

“Because it’s easier to get ready in the morning?” Dot asked, mixing her juice with chocolate.

“Wrong and stupid!” Manley scorned. “Only once you give up the surface can you dig beneath it! Only once you relinquish vanity can you be yourself!”

Sophie crawled behind desks, lunged for the door—the knob burnt her hand and she yelped.

“Only once you destroy who you think you are can you embrace who you
truly
are!” Manley said, glaring right at her.

Whimpering, Sophie crawled back to her desk, past villains exploding in shingles. Smoky-green ranks popped out of thin air around her—“1” over Hester, “2” over Anadil, “3” over oily, brown-skinned Ravan, “4” over blond, pointy-eared Vex. Hort drank his draught excitedly, only to see a wee zit spurt from his chin. He smacked away a stinky “19,” but the rank smacked him right back.

“Ugliness means you rely on intelligence,” Manley leered, slinking towards Sophie. “Ugliness means you trust your soul. Ugliness means
freedom
.”

He flung a bowl onto her desk.

Sophie looked down into black tadpole juice. Some of it was still moving.

“Actually, Professor, I believe my Beautification teacher will object to my participation in this assign—”

“Three failing marks and you’ll end up something uglier than me,” Manley spat.

Sophie looked up. “I
really
don’t think that’s possible.”

Manley turned to the class. “Who would like to help our dear Sophie taste freedom?”

“Me!”

Sophie whipped around.

“Don’t worry,” Hort whispered, “you’ll look better this way.”

Before Sophie could scream, he plunged her head into the bowl.

Lying in a puddle on the banks of Good, Agatha replayed the scene from Evil. Her best friend had called her a boob, flying tackled her, stolen her clothes, left her to witches, and then asked for love advice.

It’s this place
,
she
thought
.
In Gavaldon, Sophie would forget about classes and castles and boys. In Gavaldon, they could find a happy ending together. Not here.
I just need to get us home.

And yet, something still bothered her. That moment on the Bridge—Sophie in pink against the School for Good, she in black against the School for Evil . . . “
Everything is perfect now
,” Sophie said. And she was right. For a brief moment, the mistake had been corrected. They were where they belonged.

So why couldn’t we stay?

Whatever happened, it was a close call. Because once Sophie made it to Good, she’d never leave. Agatha’s breath shallowed. She had to make sure the faculty didn’t discover the mix-up! She had to make sure they weren’t switched to the right schools! But how could she make sure Sophie stayed put?

Go to class
, her heart whispered.

Pollux said the schools kept an even number of students to preserve the balance. So for the mistake to be corrected, they
both
would have to be switched. As long as Agatha held her place in the School for Good, then Sophie was stuck in the School for Evil. And if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Sophie couldn’t possibly last as a villain. A few more days there and she’d
beg
for Gavaldon.

Go to class.
Of course!

She would find a way to last at this horrid school and wear Sophie down. For the first time since they were kidnapped, Agatha opened her heart to hope.

Hope died ten minutes later.

Professor Emma Anemone, whistling in a blinding yellow dress and long fox-fur gloves, walked into her pink taffy classroom, took one look at Agatha, and stopped whistling. But then she murmured “Rapunzel took some work too,” and launched into her first lesson on “Making Smiles Kinder.”

“Now the key is to communicate with your eyes,” she chirped, and demonstrated the perfect princess smile. With her bulging eyes and wild yellow hair matching her dress, Agatha thought she looked like a manic canary. But Agatha knew her chances of getting home rested in her hands, so she mimicked her toothy beam with the others.

Professor Anemone walked around surveying the girls. “Not so much squinting . . . A little less nose, dear . . . Oh my, absolutely beautiful!” She was talking about Beatrix, who lit up the room with her dazzling smile. “That, my Evers, is a smile that can win the heart of the steeliest prince. A smile that can broker peace in the greatest of wars. A smile that can lead a kingdom to hope and prosperity!”

Then she saw Agatha. “You there! No smirking!”

With her teacher looming, Agatha tried to concentrate and duplicate Beatrix’s perfect smile. For a second she thought she had it.

“Goodness! Now it’s a creepy grin! A smile, child! Just your normal, everyday smile!”

Happy. Think of something happy.

But all she could think of was Sophie on the Bridge, leaving her for a boy she didn’t even know.

“Now it’s positively malevolent!” Professor Anemone shrieked.

Agatha turned and saw the whole class cowering, as if expecting her to turn them all into bats. (“Do you think she eats children?” said Beatrix. “I’m so glad I moved out,” Reena sighed.)

Agatha frowned. It couldn’t have been
that
bad.

Then she saw Professor Anemone’s face.

“If you ever need a man to trust you, if you ever need a man to save you, if you ever need a man to love you, whatever you do, child . . .
don’t smile at him
.”

Princess Etiquette, taught by Pollux, was worse. He arrived in a bad mood, hobbling with his massive canine head attached to a skinny goat’s carcass and muttering that Castor “has the body this week.” He looked up and saw girls staring at him.

“And here I thought I was teaching princesses. All I see are twenty ill-mannered girls gaping like toads. Are you
toads
? Do you like to catch flies with your little pink tongues?”

The girls stopped staring after that.

The first lesson was “Princess Posture,” which involved the girls descending the four tower staircases with nests of nightingale eggs on their heads. Though most of the girls succeeded without breaking any eggs, Agatha had a harder time. There were a number of reasons for this: a lifetime of slouching, Beatrix and Reena intently watching her with their new Kinder Smiles, her mind chattering that Sophie would win this with her eyes closed, and the absurdity of a dog barking about posture while teetering on goat legs. In the end, she left twenty eggs bleeding yolk on marble.

“Twenty beautiful nightingales who will not have life . . . because of
you
,” said Pollux.

As class ranks appeared over each girl in ethereal gold clouds—Beatrix 1st, of course—Agatha spun to see a rusted “20” hover over, then crash into her head.

Two classes, two last-place ranks. One more and she would learn what happened to children who failed. With her plan to get Sophie home crumbling by the minute, Agatha hurried to her next class, desperate to prove herself Good.

Shingles wouldn’t keep Cinderella from the Ball. Shingles wouldn’t keep Sleeping Beauty from her kiss.

Staring at her pustuled reflection in her desk mirror, Sophie forced her kindest smile. She had solved every problem in life with beauty and charm and she would solve this one the same way.

Henchmen Training took place in the Belfry, a dreary open-air cloister atop Malice tower that required a thirty-flight ascent up a staircase so narrow the students were squeezed into single file.

“So . . . nauseous,” Dot panted like an overheated camel.

“If she pukes near me, I’m throwing her off the tower,” Hester crabbed.

As she climbed, Sophie tried not to think about pustules, puke, or putrid Hort, who was trying to cram beside her. “I know you hate me,” he pressed. She lurched to the right to block him. Hort tried the left. “But it was the challenge and I didn’t want you to fail and—”

Sophie thwarted him with her elbow and raced up the last few steps, desperate to prove to her new teacher she was in the wrong place. Unfortunately that teacher was Castor.

“’COURSE I GET THE READER IN MY GROUP.”

Even worse, his assistant, Beezle, was the red-skinned dwarf that Sophie had slapped on the ladder the day before. Upon seeing her blistered face, he giggled like a hyena. “Ugly witch!”

Head off center on his massive dog’s body, Castor wasn’t as amused. “You’re all revolting enough as is,” he groused, and sent Beezle to fetch honeysuckle, which promptly restored the villains’ faces. While they groaned in disappointment, Sophie heaved with relief.

“Whether you win or lose your battles depends on the competence and loyalty of your henchmen!” Castor said. “Of course some of you will end up henchmen yourselves, with your own lives depending on the strength of your Leader. Better pay attention then, if you want to stay alive!”

Sophie gritted her teeth. Agatha was probably singing to doves somewhere and here she was about to wrangle bloodthirsty goons.

“And now for your first challenge. How to train . . .” Castor stepped aside. “A
Golden Goose
.”

Sophie gaped at an elegant gold-feathered bird behind him, sleeping serenely in its nest.

“But Golden Geese hate villains,” Anadil frowned.

“Which means if you can train one, then taming a mountain troll will be easy,” Castor said.

The Goose opened its pearly blue eyes, took in its villainous audience, and smiled.

“Why is it smiling?” Dot said.

“Because it knows we’re wasting our time,” Hester said. “Golden Geese only listen to Evers.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Castor yawned. “Your job is to make that pathetic creature lay one of its prized eggs. The bigger the egg, the higher your rank.”

Sophie’s heart raced. If the bird only listened to the Good, she could prove here and now she didn’t belong with these monsters! All she had to do was make the Goose lay the biggest egg!

On the Belfry wall, Castor carved five strategies for training henchmen:

1. Command

2. Taunt

3. Trick

4. Bribe

5. Bully

“Now don’t go bullying the blasted bird unless you’ve gone through the other four,” Castor warned. “Ain’t nothin’ stopping a henchman from bullying back.”

Sophie made sure she was last in line and watched the first five kids have zero luck, including Vex, who went as far as grabbing its throat, only to see the Golden Goose smile in return.

Miraculously, Hort was the first to succeed. He had tried barking “Lay egg,” calling it a “prat,” and tempting it with worms, before giving up and kicking its nest. Wrong thing to kick. In a flash, the Goose yanked his tunic over his head and Hort yelped about blindly, banging into walls. (Sophie vowed if she had to see this boy one more time without clothes, she’d gouge out her eyes.) But the Goose seemed delighted. It flapped its wings and sniggered and squawked so raucously that it lost control and excreted a golden egg the size of a coin.

Hort held it up in stunned triumph. “I won!”

“Right, because in the heat of battle, you’ll have time to run around naked and make your Goose crap,” Castor snarled.

Still, the dog had said whoever made the biggest egg won, so the other Nevers mimicked Hort’s tactic. Dot made faces, Ravan made shadow puppets, Anadil tickled it with a feather, and bald, doughy Brone sat on Beezle, much to the bird’s delight. (“Smelly witch!” the dwarf howled.)

Scowling at all this, Hester walked up and punched the Goose in the stomach. It dropped an egg the size of a fist. “Amateurs,” she sneered.

Then it was Sophie’s turn.

She approached the Golden Goose, which seemed exhausted from laughing and laying. But when the Goose met Sophie’s gaze, it stopped blinking and sat still as a statue, studying every inch of her. For a moment, Sophie felt an eerie chill float through her body, as if she’d let a stranger into her soul. But then she looked into the bird’s warm, wise eyes and swelled with hope. Surely it saw she was different from the rest.

Yes, you certainly are different.

Sophie backed up. She peeked around to see if anyone else had heard the bird’s thoughts. But the rest of the Nevers just glowered impatiently, since she had to finish before they got their ranks.