Dépaysement [Deh·pays·mwoh] | Noun — The feeling of being taken out of one's familiar living environment and placed in a new one for the first time | Origin: French
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There is a distinct pro, and a distinct con, to the fact that Dean Dovey's office is so far away from the bridge that's apparently called Halfway Bay despite not being a bay.
Pro: I have time to get the gunk from my hair, shirt, outside of my pants and from my jacket.
Con: We pass by a lot, and I mean a lot, of people on the way there.
I can feel their eyes on me, some openly staring, others pretending not to, some actually, thankfully, not paying attention at all. I just hope Ely got here okay and isn't having a panic attack over me. I'll ask that of Dean Dovey before anything else, if I can see him so he isn't losing his mind.
I'm not short by a long shot, but with the wolf's powerful stride and the nymph's seemingly four foot long legs, I have to almost jog to keep up with them. Around us, slender girls with thick hair and pastel gowns move like they're being carried by currents, all knowing exactly where they're supposed to go and when. At one point, the cyan haired nymph tries to stop and, I'm guessing, grab a basket of school supplies for me from another with violet hair, but the wolf snarls at them both, and we keep moving.
Dean Dovey's office has fancy double doors like dad's study, a shiny beetle crest at the center, half on each door. Simultaneously, the wolf and nymph nock. The nymph's hand, light and polite, and the wolf's, harsh and demanding.
"Come in," comes a soft, distinctly elderly voice from inside.
When the doors are opened, light hits my eyes, refracted in rainbow lines and arcs through a crystal paperweight shaped like a pumpkin that sits on the corner of the dean's desk. Dean Dovey herself is all soft lines, gentle wrinkles, kind eyes and beetle wings. She sort of reminds me of the portraits dad has shown me of my grandmother from back when she was still alive. When her doe brown eyes lift from the papers in front of her, her eyes immediately settle on me between the nymph and wolf. I fidget under her gaze, though it's nothing but neutral, though perhaps a bit suspicious. God, I hope I got all the muck off of my clothes. The visible parts, anyway. I'll have to powerwash them and myself to get rid of all of it.
To my surprise, as we step in, it's the nymph who speaks, though I thought she couldn't. "Clarissa," she says, voice airy like a trickle of water, "there appears to have been a mix up in our paperwork." She holds up my good schedule. "Princess Rya is listed to attend the School for Good, but-"
The wolf cuts in now, thrusting out my, now slightly crinkled, evil schedule. "But she's also listed as attending the School for Evil."
"Oh my," Dean Dovey says with a discomfortingly grave nod, "That is a situation." She adjusts her spectacles, which sit on the end of her nose and further remind me of my grandma. "Well, there's no sense in delaying a solution. I'll call Lady Lesso." She looks up over my head at the faces of my escorts. "The two of you ought to be getting back to work. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
From either of my sides, a schedule is shoved at me. I take them both and hold them to my chest, thumbs running over the crinkles in the evil one to smooth them out. Just like that, the two staff members are gone, the closing doors sounding like finality behind me.
I steal a glance around while Dean Dovey rummages in her desk for something. Her office is open plan to say the least, with all the windows thrown wide seemingly just so the light will come in and hit that pumpkin paperweight just so and send those rainbow slashes dancing across the walls and smooth tile.
"You can have a seat, dear."
Her voice snaps me from my staring. "Huh?" I ask intelligently, "Oh! Sure—I mean, thank you."
As I shuffle forward, feeling like I'm in trouble with a tutor, in search of a chair that's literally right in front of me, Dean Dovey speaks again.
"You look nervous," she says, "You aren't in any trouble if that's what you're thinking. This is just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up as quickly as Cinderella was." She smiles reassuringly at me, settling a real life crystal ball before her, and yet there's something in her eyes that makes me worry that this isn't all as simple as it seems.
I sink down into the plush chair in front of her desk, resisting the urge to bite on my fingertip. "Yeah," I hear myself say, though I'm not entirely convinced of my own words when I add, "Just a misunderstanding."
Dean Dovey's crystal ball glows softly for a few moments. A quiet murmur comes from the ball, before she speaks clearly the name, "Lady Lesso," whom I'm assuming is the evil dean. That certainly sounds like the name of a Never.
Lady Lesso's voice comes too quietly from the crystal ball for me to hear, but I can gather enough context from Dean Dovey's words on their own.
"I need you here earlier than we thought... No, the assembly is still happening on time... I have a student here who appears to have been enrolled in both of our schools... We just need assurance of where she belongs. That's all... No, but bring Sheeba if you would. I'll be calling Emma and Yuba as well... Thank you, Lady Lesso. I'll see you soon."
After that, she makes two similar calls to who I'm assuming are Emma and Yuba. This all seems like a bit much just to iron out a few creases in my schedule, which I take as conformation of my suspicions that this won't be as simple as I'd like it to be. My palms feel clammy, and the evil schedule feels more limp than it did before.
To distract myself, I examine both of the pages to figure out what my classes in good will be, and what my classes in evil can't possibly be. The pages are completely apart, right down to the way they smell—good of flowers and iron, evil of woodsmoke and sweat.
Rya(Rio) of Roch Briar: Good - 1st year
Roommate: Kiko of Neverland
Charity Tower, room 19
Session | Faculty
1. Animal Communication | Princess Uma
OR. Swordplay 1 | Professor Rumi Espada
2. Princess Etiquette | Pollux
OR. Chivalry | Professor-
My head already hurts from all of the tiny, close knit words on the page. Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful that they're taking my Everchange—as mom puts it—into consideration, but they could have at least given me a separate boys schedule. Then again, I might've be even more anxious if I had three instead of just two. Shaking my head, I flip to the evil schedule. But before I can get any farther than the names of two Nevergirls, Mona and Arachne, the door flies open behind me.
Dean Dovey looks over my head. "Thank you for being so quick, Emma," she says, gesturing toward another chair.
Professor Emma Anemone is something to say the very least. Buttercup colored gown and matching hair, all dotted and woven with feathers. She's like some kind of twittering sunbird or canary. She, in spite of the painfully bright yellow, is beautiful. A slender nose, large, round eyes, lips painted a perfect petal pink. When she sees me looking, her wide eyes grow wider.
She sweeps over to me and takes my face between her perfectly manicured hands. "Clarissa," she squees, "You're spoiling me! Oh, just look at your cheekbones! Oh," she moves to grasp my hands, causing the schedules to fall, "and these hands! They'll look so nice with bangles or gloves."
I feel my cheeks growing hot at her words, hands twitching to take up the fallen papers again as Professor Anemone prattles on to Dean Dovey about what feels like each and every detail of my appearance.
"Of course," she says, "a little bit of scrub and facial masks can help with all that breakout on your jaw and forehead, and we'll have to put you on a diet if we want to thin out your hips a bit, but rarely ever are new g-" She pauses, then seems to actually look at me. Her throat bobs and she asks a quiet and nervous, "Girl?"
All at once, the tension floods out of me and I laugh. There's just something about how absurd her strings of tangled words are that keeps me from being too anxious right now. "Girl, for now," I confirm, leaning over to scoop up my papers again.
Professor Anemone wilts with relief. "Oh thank God," she says, sinking down into the other chair with a hefty phwoomph of her dress' full skirts, "Good. I'm much better at working with Evergirls than Everboys. That's why there are two different classes, you know."
My eyes flick back to my good schedule. "Beautification for girls, grooming for boys," I read aloud, raising my eyebrows, "Like the difference between etiquette and chivalry."
At the word boys, a memory clicks back into place and I turn toward Dean Dovey. "Ma'am," I start, "My brother, is he here yet? We got, erm, separated on the Flowerground and I want to make sure he's okay."
Dean Dovey's silver eyebrows lift. "Separated?" she asks, now beginning to put her crystal ball away. "Wait." She holds up a hand. "Explain it when the others arrive."
Speak of the devils. Just a moment later, the doors are opened up again, admitting three people. Two women and a gnome. Dean Dovey introduces them as Lady Lesso, Sheeba Sheeks and Yuba.
Lady Lesso, or rather, Dean Lesso, skulks in on knife sharp heels to stand beside Dean Dovey's desk, a long, violet dress falling to her toes, its color matching her big eyes almost exactly. Snow pale skin stark against a long, tight, black braid.
"What is all of this about, Clarissa?" asks Professor Sheeks. Chic is right. Even with the blemishes across her cheeks, the deep red of her gown complements her ebony skin in a way I didn't expect would be allowed in the School for Evil. With a start, I realize that her figure is quite full in the hip, just like mine. Absently, I drop my hand to my waist. God, I would kill for the chance to wear that gown.
Dean Dovey looks to me now. "Why don't you explain?"
After breaking from my extremely impolite staring at the evil professor in red, I tell the story of the Flowerground and the Artemistymph Line, how I ended up halfway between the schools instead of in good's field of Wonderlandian flowers, how the nymph and wolf both say I'm enrolled at their schools. Dean Lesso and Professor Sheeks hold my evil schedule between them, just as Professor Anemone leans down to share my good schedule with Yuba.
The way Dean Lesso's dark eyebrows knit makes my chest grow tight again. God, what if I already found a way to mess up? What if I'm about to be failed or expelled before the first day? Her eyes lift over the top of the page and narrow slightly on me.
"Now I see why you needed us all, Clarissa," she says, setting the parchment down on the hazel wood desk, "There is only one way to figure this all out."
"Only one way?" I ask dumbly.
"I take it that's why you asked me here as well," sighs Yuba, long, white beard swishing as he shakes his head, "Alright, let's hurry. Castor and Pollux will throw a fit if any of us are late for the assembly." He fixes his small, black eyes on me and gestures with one hand. "Up, on your feet," he says. He points to a space at the center of the room. "Sheeba, Emma, go and stand with her please. Clarissa, Lady Lesso, please cover your eyes."
Cover their eyes? God, this feels like an execution. It's all I can do not to tremble as I walk to stand between the two professors. I must look like Ely with how I keep smoothing out dad's jacket. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I decide to focus on the backs of the deans' heads. Silver bun, black braid. They stand close together, as though they're more comfortable than just coworkers.
Before I can jump down that rabbit hole, Yuba thrusts his staff at the teachers and I. There's a sensation of everything getting tighter and damper around me. Before I can really register it, I'm about ten inches tall at most. I can see the three of them, Deans Dovey and Lesso and Yuba, all towering above me, but I don't exactly have eyes to see them with. At either of my sides, there are pumpkins. No joke. Two bright orange pumpkins that I'm assuming are identical to me.
We're... Pumpkins. I'm not dead. Just a plant now. This feels... weird.
Yuba steps back from us. "Alright," he says, "you can look now."
The deans turn and walk around the desk, the beetle wings on Dean Dovey's chartreuse gown fluttering slightly as if hoping to take flight. Dean Lesso rests one elbow on the opposite palm, hand resting over her dark red lips in thought.
She seems to come to a conclusion with herself and approaches, resting her hands and long, red nails atop my and Professor Sheeks' pumpkins. "These two," she declares, "are my Nevers."
Dean Dovey gives her a skeptical look now, then makes her way up as Dean Lesso steps away. Her hands are soft against my and Professor Anemone's pumpkins. "These two, Yuba," she says, "I can sense it."
Dean Lesso looks more suspicious now. With a swish of her violet gown, she turns toward Yuba. "Change them back," she says, "Let's see who's correct."
Now it all goes loose and dry as Yuba changes the three of us back into our human selves. Professor Anemone retrieves a kerchief from a sneakily sewn pocket at her waistband and dabs at her neck. "Oh dear," she says, fluttering her free hand, "We really must have a predicament."
"I don't understand," says Dean Dovey, "How is that possible?"
"Only the best evil can disguise as good," says Dean Lesso, "So she must be a Never."
"Lady Lesso," sighs the good dean, "If that were the case, then you would have thought she was an Ever as well."
Dean Lesso's brow creases slightly, and she gives a grave nod. They both cast their eyes on me like I'm some kind of exotic plant or unstable potion. I sink my hands into my pockets and avert my eyes, feeling an odd sense of guilt. What do I have to feel guilty for? Existing?
Before the silence can drag on for too long, I press my knuckles to my lips and clear my throat. "Is now a bad time to ask for a different room?"
Dean Dovey gives me a puzzled look, broken from the trance she was apparently in. "What? How come? You haven't even met your roommate, I'm sure."
I can still feel Dean Lesso's eyes on me, and I fight down the urge to squirm. "Well, it's just," I start, "This Kiko girl, I don't know how comfortable she would be if I was bunking with her while attending the boys classes. So maybe I could room with Ely instead?"
"Why not both?" comes a voice from the door, causing everyone in the room to flinch.
"August," Dean Lesso says, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?"
Beside me, Professor Anemone almost looks like a puffed up bird with how ruffled she is. "If I'm not needed anymore," she says, side eyeing me hard, "then I think I'll go and prepare tomorrow's lessons."
"Agreed," says Professor Sheeks, tucking a stray, black curl out of her eyes, "The smell of Hansel's Haven is giving me a headache."
Almost too quickly, the teachers in red and yellow are out the door. I track them with my gaze, until my eyes catch on the man, presumably August, who stands beside the door. Silver hair, pale, hazel eyes, a green suit and matching tie. Resting in the crook of his elbow is a slender, wooden cane with a small metal disk for a tip.
It doesn't take long at all to realize that he's blind. The eyes, the white pupils, the cane. I dart a glance at my good schedule on Dean Dovey's desk to see what he teaches.
4. History of Heroism | Professor August Sader
"August," Dean Dovey is saying now, "What are you suggesting?"
Dean Lesso narrows her eyes on him, and they're somehow more intimidating like that, even if Professor Sader can't see it. "Did you know that this was going to happen?" she demands.
Professor Sader turns his head in her direction. "Ah, remember, Lady Lesso," he says, voice calm and serine, "I can't answer any questions."
That's right. Something I actually retained from my tutoring other than the capital of Jaunt Jolie being the city of Rosebelle. Seers can't answer any questions without aging ten years. They can afford to make a few mistakes though since they live an average of 160-180 years. There's also something about breaking their souls to merge them with those of fairy godmothers or something, but Dean Dovey's voice pulls me back to the here and now.
Dean Dovey sighs. "Right, of course," she says, "Please, August, if you have anything to say, say it now."
Then he shifts to look right through me, and I have to wonder how he knows just where I am. "An Ever and a Never, just like your schedules say," he muses, "A girl and a boy. If the Schoolmaster wants you here, then we cannot question that."
"She can't attend both schools at once," says Dean Lesso, "Imagine what my Nevers will do."
"Lady Lesso is right, August," says Dean Dovey, "Not only would it be difficult for her to get settled, but that would give her far too much schoolwork, and she's already enrolled in classes for boys and girls."
Professor Sader lifts his silver brows. "Don't you think it's impolite to talk about her as if she isn't here?" he asks. It's not a mean question, nor an accusatory one. He sounds genuine in his concern about how I'm treated. I'm weirdly comforted by that fact too, but can't put my finger on exactly why.
With his words, the two deans turn to look at me again. This time, I make myself stand a little straighter and square my shoulders. "Look, I have no idea what's going on," I say, "But right now, I just want to see my brother and make it through the rest of the day. Please?" Without realizing it, I've pulled my hands from my pockets and held them out imploringly in front of me, like I'm praying to a pair of saints and not asking for something as basic as seeing Ely.
Dean Dovey's face softens. "You're right," she says, "August, Lady Lesso, we'll discuss this after the assembly. For now," she turns her eyes back on me, "can you find your way to your dorm alright? I'll send a nymph up with a basket for you."
I take up my schedules. "Charity 19," I read off, "Can't be too hard to find."
"Good," says Dean Dovey. She flutters her fingers. "You may go. One of us will inform you when we come to a conclusion."
She doesn't have to tell me twice. All I want right now is to get clean, see Ely and maybe get some sleep. As I pass by Professor Sader, leaning on the wall beside the door, I give him a quiet, "Thanks." It's a bit hard to see from the corner of my eye, but I think he's smiling at me now.
Just as I expected, finding my dorm room isn't hard at all. The towers here are all pretty easy to understand. Honor and Valor are blue for boys, Purity and Charity are pink for girls. The names displayed like that rubs me the wrong way a bit. Are they suggesting that boys can't be pure or charitable, or that girls can't have honor or valor? I can't think about that now though. I need to focus, and hopefully find Ely somewhere in this labyrinth.
It's a little funny to me as I make my way up the stairs. They're shaped like familiar, extremely lengthy gold hair. 17, 18, and finally 19. Taking a breath, I tuck my papers into my jacket and knock on the door. Above it, a golden placard reads, 'Welcome Rya, Kiko.'
"Just a second," comes a sweet, birdsong like voice from behind the door.
A second later, a girl who I'm guessing is named Kiko opens it. With a start, I recognize her short, black hair and pointed features. The cute girl from the Flowerground. Oh, absolute score!
Kiko tilts her head at me a second, then smiles and offers her hand. "Looks like we're roommates," she says, thankfully not mentioning the very ruffled state of my clothes, "I'm Kiko. Come on in. A nymph just brought in your stuff."
I dumbly accept her hand and let her pull me inside, door closing behind me. The room is what feels like several hundred shades of rose and peony and blush and everything in between. Ceiling tiles shaped like clouds with baby faced cherubs sailing through them, three canopy beds fit for princesses and peas, and walls decorated with murals of maidens surrounded by animals or playing with children. It's busy, but a lot cuter than I would have expected. On one bed, there's a woven basket draped with a lavender cloth, a uniform folded up beside it.
Kiko heads to one of the vanities. "It's just us in here I'm pretty sure," she says, setting up a few beauty products, "Your trunk's under your bed, by the way. If you change quickly, we can walk to the assembly together."
"Sounds great," I say, cringing at and hoping she can't hear the way my voice cracks. What? Don't pretend you haven't gone stupid over a pretty girl before.
Turning away in hopes she won't see the redness of my cheeks and neck, I unfurl the uniform, piece by piece. It's cute, all things considered. A low cut, long sleeve blouse made from white lace, tall, thankfully wide heeled shoes and a short, blush pink pinafore with many, many petticoats underneath it, peony, rose and carnation petals somehow attached all over the pinafore, and, of course, the iconic crest of a silver swan just over my heart. When I've got it on, I twirl in front of the mirror on my side of the room, entertained by the way the fluffy skirt poofs up like the ivery well known dress Alice wore while she fell down the rabbit hole. I'm so grateful they have the right measurements for my hips and waist too. How embarrassing it would have been for the skirt to rip because of that.
"Oh!" I hear Kiko from behind me, "You look adorable!"
I glance at her over my shoulder, flashing my best smile. "Aww, thanks. You look great in yours. Love the sash."
Kiko grins, hands smoothing over the pink sash around her waist, a knot at the side with two trails of fabric hanging down. "Thanks," she says, "It's called an obi. My dad got it for me."
"Your dad being...?" I motion for her to finish the sentence.
She giggles. "One of Peter Pan's Lost Boys," she explains, "His name's Crow, and my mom's one of the mermaids from the cove."
I whistle, impressed. "Does that make you part mermaid?" I ask.
Kiko shrugs a shoulder. "Sort of. I can breathe underwater, but I don't have a tail or anything like that." Her spruce brown eyes lift up finally to my circlet, and I see the second she registers it in the way her hands fly up to her mouth. Eyes on mine again, she asks, "Y-You're...?"
"Guilty as charged. Yes, I am that Rya of Roch Briar," I sigh, reaching to carefully lift the circlet from my head to twirl it between my hands, "You don't have to bow or anything, alright?" I try to smile. "I'm a student, just like you." As if the scheduling issue weren't complicated enough.
To my immense relief, Kiko nods and straightens out her obi a bit. "Got it," she says, "In return, just don't make any fish jokes please."
That pulls out a laugh. "Deal," I say, extending one hand as the other one awkwardly drops my diadem back on, "Now, I think I hear girls in the halls. Let's head out before we're late."
Honestly, I'm a little surprised by my own gusto here. Making friends with maids and kitchen staff is one thing, but already being able to hold the hand of a girl from a whole other kingdom just because we're roommates? Yeah, that's a whole new level. A good one, certainly.
As we're making our way down the mom's hair staircase, I ask, "Kiko, have you seen any slender, blonde guys around?" Realizing I'm describing like a tenth of the world population, I clarify, "With eyes like mine. He's my brother."
Kiko blinks at me innocently. "I haven't seen any boys at all," she says, "None besides the teachers anyway. Why?"
I sigh a lock of hair from my face. "We got separated on the Flowerground," I begin.
But before I can finish, Kiko's breath hitches. "That was you?" she asks, "The one who got dropped from the Rosalinda Line?"
"Again, guilty," I say, "I just want to make sure he's okay. I'm sure the Flowerground got him here safe, but he's probably worried sick about me."
Kiko nods quickly. "I would be too," she exclaims, "You must have fallen four stories or something. I could feel my dress get ruffled when you fell past me."
I rub the back of my neck. "All the more reason to check in with him. Do you know when we'll see the boys?"
"Oh, be patient," comes a voice ahead of us.
Turning away from Kiko, I come face to gorgeous face with who I can already tell is going to get top marks in Professor Anemone's beautification class. A long, golden waterfall of ringlets probably from Goldie Locks herself, lips like rose petals, eyes like two iridescent gemstones, blue one second, gray the next, lilac after that.
"We'll see them at the assembly," she goes on, "I've done my research. They all like to come in while fencing to put on a show for the girls." She flutters her hand like a fan at her neck. "I for one cannot wait."
"Me either," says a willowy redhead beside her, her dress seeming slightly longer due to her slight hips, "I hear they throw roses to the girls they like." She looks over her shoulder at me. "I think I'm entitled to at least one," she says, "Given Briar Rose is my great grandmother."
I raise a brow at her. Rumor has it that Briar Rose still hasn't married her prince and that their kids aren't technically legitimate, but I decide to not ask her that. Don't want to offend. "Is that were your hair comes from?" I ask instead.
The girl giggles, one hand smoothing out a lock of her hair. "You're funny," she seems to decide. If she finds me funny though, her sense of humor probably has a pretty low bar. "I'm Millicent. You two?"
"Rya," I respond automatically, "of Roch Briar."
I realize my mistake a moment later when a few gasps arise. I groan. "Come on," I say, throwing Millicent a glance, "I'm not the only one."
Kiko squeezes my arm. "Yeah," she says, "but you are an heir. Like, a name we've learned in history books before."
The pretty blonde nods, falling back into step beside us. "I don't know any other princesses," she says.
I blink at her a moment, then point to a girl over her shouldr. Brown skinned, dark haired and gray eyed. "Princess Rina of Shazabah," I recite, "Granddaughter of Aladdin and second in line for the throne." That might sound impressive for me to have memorized, but it's only because dad saw that she'd be attending this year too and wants me to be friendly with her. Extra insurance that our countries won't go to war. Can't very well try to kill or conquer each other if the princesses are buddy buddy.
The blonde girl darts a glance over toward Rina, who's looked up at the sound of her name and smiles, fluttering a wave.
"Didn't you offer to be her roommate?" asks Millicent.
The blonde girl flushes. "Yes," she admits, "I just, erm..."
She doesn't have to finish, as we all reach a large set of ornate double doors, complete with sentinel nymphs, their hair and lips twin shocks of lilac. Together, they draw open the doors, revealing probably the most bizarre theatre I've ever seen. Sculptures and chandeliers over the pews of good, black stalactites over those of evil. Speaking of, evil students in black smocks all are filing in through a door opposite ours to sit down.
A sudden tugging pain almost makes me lurch forward. I can't begin to explain it, but there's something about the evil side of the theatre that almost coaxes me forward. Maybe it's the alien features of the students, maybe it's the fact I can see one girl with hips even wider than mine, or another who's hair is thinner than thread, yet she seems to wear it with pride. Maybe it's the red outfits that several of the wolves are wearing. Maybe it's the pretty, blonde girl who's green eyes are locked squarely on mine, seeming to silently beg for help.
Whatever it is, I stomp it dead. I am not evil. God, focus, Rya. You're good, you're an Ever. You're the heir to an entire Ever kingdom for the good lord's sake! So, while I try to give the green eyed girl a sympathetic look, I don't let myself stray from Kiko, who guides me toward one of the pews further back to sit.
I fidget with my hands and the cuffs of my sleeves. In the pew in front of us, I can see the back of the blonde girl's head. Leaning forward, I tap her shoulder. When she looks back, I cup one hand around the side of my mouth and whisper, "When's that entrance you talked about?"
The girl pauses, eyes seeming to settle on blue for now, then flashes a conspiratorial smile. Silently, she lifts her hand, three fingers raised, thumb crossed over her pinky.
Everyone around us starts to settle in.
She lowers one finger.
A sound, one full of laughter and clashing, meets my ears.
She lowers the second.
A great bang comes from just outside the good doors, and our side of the theatre begins to hum and buzz with excitement.
She lowers the last finger and mouths to me, 'Right now.'
Right now is absolutely correct. No sooner have the blonde's lips fallen around the W, the doors fly open, admitting five dozen blue clad lads, all appearing to be in some gigantic, friendly sword fight. The clash of metal, white knuckled grips on hilts, the scrape of blade on blade.
My fingers twitch, longing to wrap around my own sword's hilt so I might dive into the fray as well. But no, I can't. Instead, my eyes scan the crowd, back and forth and back and forth, in search of slicked down hair, round eyes and a blue waistcoat that probably won't fit him snugly enough.
The fight reaches a climax. Boys pinning boys to pews, swords sent flying from hands, loud laughter. But still no sign of my brother. I push myself up slightly to try and angle my head for a better chance at seeing him, but suddenly there's a loud chorus of, "Mi'lady," from every direction, and roses are flying.
I stoop down to avoid getting hit by any of them, arms up over my head in an X shape. Even so, one of them manages to bounce off my head and land on the ground between my knees. I snatch it up and peek out of hiding to evaluate the carnage, trying to find who decided that I ought to have this, when a weight crashes down onto the pew beside me.
"Thank god!" Ely says breathlessly, his presence driving all thoughts of sword fights and roses from my head, "What the hell happened to you?"
Settling in beside him, I open my mouth to speak, when the doors fly open again. This time, only one boy stands in them, Prince Tedros Pendragon, complete with shining gold hair, cherry blue eyes and Arthur's famous sword at his hip. Instantly, any boy, save for the still exhausted Ely, who'd sat before is back on his feet and charging straight for the prince, who easily disarms them all.
I lean in to try and get Ely to hear me over the clash of swords. "Flowerground decided to have a stroke," I explain, "I'm alive though. I got-"
Then, Tedros is throwing his own rose, sending girls around me into an uproar, even the blonde girl with more than two dozen flowers already. He tosses it, and the green eyed girl from earlier goes flying to try and grab it. I cringe in sympathy when one of the gray-black wolves catches her by the arm and throws her back onto her side.
Right, okay, now that that's over and done with, I turn toward my brother, open my mouth to try and speak again, only to be interrupted yet again, this time by the sight of a two headed dog making its way out onto the stage. I groan to myself and mouth to Ely, 'Later,' to which he nods.
"Welcome to the School for Good and Evil," says one of the heads, with thinner fur, a soft jaw and tiny nose the color of a cherry blossom, "I'm Pollux, welcoming leader."
Now, the other head speaks up. Mangy fur, sharp teeth and dark, beady eyes. "And I'm Castor, welcoming leader assistant and executive administer of punishment for anyone who breaks rules or acts like a donkey!"
His shouting makes me wince slightly, and I can already tell that Ely, who's attempting to not look at the stage, is not a fan. Scooting over, I put my arm around him and pat his shoulder silently.
"Thank you, Castor," Pollux says, and I think I can hear a tiny twinge of annoyance in his... her... their... yeah, let's go with that. I think I can hear a bit of annoyance in their voice. "So," they go on, "Let me first remind you why it is you're hear. All children are born with souls that are either good or evil."
The sound of those words makes my stomach feel a little tight as I steal a glance toward the evil side of the theatre, the silvery pathway between them and us guarded by nymphs and wolves. I can't entirely put my finger on it, but it's sort of like how separating Honor and Valor from Purity and Charity based off of whether you're a prince or a princess made me feel. Just, it's a lot worse because it feels as though they're talking specifically about me.
"Some souls are purer than others," continues Pollux.
"And some souls are crap!" booms Castor.
It makes me snicker slightly under my breath, earning a dirty look from Ely, who probably thinks I'm laughing at the probably more than visible flinch he just gave. I try to give him my best, 'Sorry,' smile and pat his shoulder again.
"As I was saying," Pollux says after loudly clearing their throat, staring Castor down, "Some souls are purer than others, but all souls are fundamentally good or evil. Those who are evil cannot make their souls good, and those who are good cannot make their souls evil."
Then why, I wonder. Why was I able to not only get enrolled in both schools by what has to be some freak mistake, but also make both deans think I'm one of theirs.
"Only the best evil can disguise as good." Dean Lesso's words bubble up into my mind again.
Was she right? Am I evil? Did I somehow manage to trick myself into thinking it all these years? My eyes go without my permission back toward the evil side of the theatre. Is that why I have the strangest, sharpest urge to go and sit with them?
"So just 'cause good is winning everything," Castor's loud, rabid voice pulls me back, "doesn't mean you can switch sides!"
That certainly gets the room going. All throughout the pews, good and evil students chant, "Evers, Evers," and, "Nevers Nevers Nevers," as if they want to win a nonexistent contest of who can be the loudest. Even Ely starts to cheer, ducking out from under my arm, long gone limp and slightly numb. I rub my bicep, trying to coax the blood to flow again.
Just when the room is getting too loud to bare, a deluge of water on our side and rainbows on evil's side makes everyone go quiet. I cough, glaring up toward the wolf who specifically chose to dump a bucket over my and Ely's heads, but he just grins back at me while Ely splutters and tries to keep his hair as slicked down as humanly possible.
"Once again," comes Pollux's voice, and they sound nearly on their last thread of patience. Me too, man, me too. "Those who are evil cannot be good, and those who are good cannot be evil."
Aaaaaaaaaannnd you lost me.
"No matter how much you are persuaded or punished," they continue, "Now, sometimes you may feel the stirring of both, but this just means that your family tree has branches where good and evil have toxically mixed."
Maybe that's it then. Maybe something else happened that showed more in me than Ely. Mom's biological father did apparently trade her for a bunch of vegetables, so maybe his evil showed up in me, like the red hair somebody might get from their grandma.
But then I have to wonder still, why didn't it show up in Ely? Not to mention, my grandfather did have at least a slightly good reason for giving mom to Gothel. He wanted to keep my grandmother safe from her.
I sigh and rub my temples with the heels of my hands, feeling the metal thorns of my circlet digging into my palms. Right, just try to get through this. Dean Dovey said that she would have everything figured out before tomorrow. You have to just trust her on this.
"And if you fail," Castor bellows, giving me no choice but to focus again, though I don't at all have the context for his words, "then something so bad will happen that I can't say, but it involves you never being seen again!"
"One more and it's the muzzle," Pollux finally snaps.
Just when I can feel myself about to go down another thought spiral, I box myself hard on the ear. Focus, damnit. Don't have a crisis right here. You were brought to good, therefore you are good. Pure good. I look up to see that both Kiko and Ely are giving me funny looks. I shake my head. God, I hope neither of them asks later.
"None of these brilliant students will fail," Pollux is saying, though I think I can feel them glancing my way as well, "I'm sure."
"You say that every time," grumbles Castor at the cracked floor of the stage, "and then someone fails."
I really, really hope that somebody won't be me. Hopefully, if/when I fail, they'll just expel me because I'm a princess and them killing me would insight a war with Roch Briar no doubt.
"Every child in the Endless Woods," Pollux says, "dreams of being picked to attend our school, but the Schoolmaster chose you." Their eyes scan back and forth across the theatre while Castor continues to sulk. "For he looked into your hearts and saw something very rare, pure good and pure evil."
And.
And, not or.
It's like they're addressing me specifically. Pure good and pure evil? But no, I have to think like somebody who's not a crackpot. It was just a paperwork mix up, nothing more. I'm good. I'm good. I am...
But now I'm wondering just how true that statement really is...
"If we're so pure," comes a voice from evil, an elfish boy with hair so blonde it's almost white, "then what's that?" He points at the green eyed girl, who looks like she wants to disappear right about now. Me too, girly, me too.
Then, a boy in the pew ahead of me is pointing toward Kiko. No wait, the girl beside her. Wild, black hair, large, brown eyes, thin lips and bitten nails. "We have one too."
I scowl. Talking about them like they're things and not people. "Oi," I hear myself saying to him, "She is still a person, you know."
He glances at me over his shoulder. Blonde hair, heavily tanned skin, gray eyes. He looks at me, just looks, then turns away with a distinct carelessness and dismissal in his posture and expression and sits back down. Already, I am not a fan.
"Ours smells like flowers!" one villain cries, sounding like it's truly a crime of the enth degree to have a floral scent.
"Ours ate a fairy," says the blonde girl in the seat ahead of me.
"Ours smiles too much," comes another disparaging call.
"Ours farted in our face!" This one comes from Millicent, who's a few seats ahead.
I have to fight down a small bubble of laughter as I glance toward the dark haired girl on Kiko's other side, who looks like she's trying to hide behind her hand. Poor thing. Funny though. I wonder if we have any classes together.
"Every class, we bring two Readers here from the Woods Beyond," Pollux explains. Ah, so they're Readers too. Intriguing. "They may know our world from pictures and books, but they know our rules just as well as you. They have the same talents and goals, the same potential for glory, and they, too, have been some of our finest students."
That prickles something in the back of my mind. Right, Mother Gothel was a Reader. Danielle or Dahlia or something like that.
"Like two hundred years ago," snifs Castor under his breath.
Pollux looks toward their brother, like they're considering going through with that muzzzle threat from earlier. "They are no different than the rest of you."
"They look different from the rest of us," comes a murmur from across the isle. Between a nymph's waist and hunched wolf's shoulder, I can see the boy who says it. Shiny, brown skin, inky hair and, from what I manage to see as he speaks, he's got pointy teeth.
Pointy teeth, just like mine.
I touch the tip of my tongue to one of mine. Dad likes to call them my Beast teeth, says they'll make me a better hunter than he was. It's a good thing my people know how to be open minded. Otherwise I might never get to go hunting or even just riding.
The nape of my neck prickles slightly. The third time today that I've noticed similarities between me and a Never. Professor Sheeks and her wide hips, the one eyed girl and her thin wisps of hair, and now this boy with his own set of Beast teeth.
My eyes scan over the good side of the theatre, my side, trying to find any girls or boys with features like those. Wide hips or thin hair or pointy teeth. But, alas, I don't find them anywhere. Not even our sore thumb Reader girl has them. Her hair, though wild and likely on its way to locs, is thick. Her waist, though clearly a bit underfed, is at least somewhat narrow. I can't see her teeth right now, and a pinch on my arm from Ely stops me from continuing to stare.
I look toward him, his large, honey brown eyes full of concern. He tilts his head toward the stage. My cheeks flame. This is the umpteenth time he's had to make me focus again. I'm embarrassed, but grateful, and nod my thanks before looking back at the two dogs.
"All of you are chosen to protect the balance between good and evil," Pollux is saying, the first half of their words lost to me due to my cloudy head, "For once that balance is compromised..."
They pause a moment, an expression of raw anguish washing over their features, shifting them from cuddly and cute into something sad and with the look of something that needs to be nurtured.
"Our world will perish..."
There's a long stretch of silence, and I suddenly wish I was paying more attention earlier. To think that just one wrong move, one slip up, one misswritten story, could send our world into the claws of death. It makes me shiver, one question rising up to stand a full head above all the others. One apart from kingdoms and friendships, Evers and Nevers, Readers and not. It stands above roses and swords, princes and princesses, honor and valor, purity and charity.
What if I'm the one who'll destroy that balance?