The School for Good and Evil

“One more and it’s the muzzle!” Pollux yelled. Castor stared at his toes.

“None of these brilliant students will fail, I’m sure,” Pollux smiled at the relieved children.

“You say that every time and then someone fails,” Castor mumbled.

Sophie remembered Bane’s scared face on the wall and shuddered. She had to get to Good soon.

“Every child in the Endless Woods dreams of being picked to attend our school. But the School Master chose you,” said Pollux, scanning both sides. “For he looked into your hearts and saw something very rare. Pure Good and Pure Evil.”

“If we’re so pure, then what’s that?”

An impish blond boy with spiky ears stood from Evil and pointed to Sophie.

A burly boy from Good pointed to Agatha. “We have one too!”

“Ours smells like flowers!” yelled a villain.

“Ours ate a fairy!”

“Ours smiles too much!”

“Ours farted in our face!”

Sophie turned to Agatha, aghast.

“Every class, we bring two Readers here from the Woods Beyond,” Pollux declared. “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.”

“Like two hundred years ago,” Castor snorted.

“They are no different than the rest of you,” Pollux said defensively.

“They look different than the rest of us,” cracked an oily, brown-skinned villain.

Students from both schools murmured in agreement. Sophie stared down Agatha, as if to say this could all be solved with a simple costume change.

“Do not question the School Master’s selections,” said Pollux. “All of you will respect each other, whether you’re Good or Evil, whether you’re from a famous tale family or a failed one, whether you’re a sired prince or a Reader. All of you are chosen to protect the balance between Good and Evil. For once that balance is compromised . . .” His face darkened. “Our world will perish.”

A hush fell over the hall. Agatha grimaced. The last thing she needed was this world perishing while they were still in it.

Castor raised his paw. “What,” Pollux groaned.

“Why doesn’t Evil win anymore?”

Pollux looked like he was about to bite his head off, but it was too late. The villains were rumbling.

“Yeah, if we’re so balanced,” yelled Hort, “why do we always die?”

“We never get good weapons!” shouted the impish boy.

“Our henchmen betray us!”

“Our Nemesis always has an army!”

Hester stood. “Evil hasn’t won in two hundred years!”

Castor tried to control himself, but his red face swelled like a balloon. “GOOD IS CHEATING!”

Nevers leapt up in mutiny, hurling food, shoes, and anything else at hand at horrified Evers—

Sophie slunk down in her seat. Tedros couldn’t possibly think she was one of these ugly hooligans, could he? She peeked over the bench and caught him staring right at her. Sophie pinked and ducked back down.

Wolves and fairies pounced on the angry horde around her, but this time rainbows and water couldn’t stop them.

“The School Master’s on their side!” Hester screamed.

“We don’t even have a chance!” howled Hort.

The Nevers fought past fairies and wolves, and charged the Evers’ pews—

“It’s because you’re idiotic apes!”

The villains looked up dumbly.

“Now sit down before I give all of you a slap!” shrieked Pollux.

They sat without argument. (Except Anadil’s rats, who peeked from her pocket and hissed.)

Pollux scowled down at the villains. “Maybe if you stopped complaining, you’d produce someone of consequence! But all we hear is excuse after excuse. Have you produced one decent villain since the Great War? One villain capable of defeating their Nemesis? No wonder Readers come here confused! No wonder they want to be Good!”

Sophie saw kids on both sides of the aisle sneak her sympathetic glances.

“Students, all of you have only one concern here,” Pollux said, softening. “Do the best work you can. The finest of you will become princes and warlocks, knights and witches, queens and sorcerers—”

“OR A TROLL OR PIG IF YOU STINK!” Castor spat.

Students glanced at each other across the aisle, sensing the high stakes.

“So if there are no further interruptions,” Pollux said, glowering at his brother, “let’s review the rules.”

“Rule thirteen. Halfway Bridge and tower roofs are forbidden to students,” Pollux lectured onstage. “The gargoyles have orders to kill intruders on sight and have yet to grasp the difference between students and intruders—”

Sophie found all of this dull, so she tuned out and stared at Tedros instead. She had never seen a boy so clean. Boys in Gavaldon smelled like hogs and slopped around with chapped lips, yellow teeth, and black nails. But Tedros had heavenly tan skin, dabbed with light stubble, and no hint (no chance!) of a blemish. Even after the vigorous swordfight, every last gold hair fell in place. When he licked his lips, white teeth gleamed through in perfect rows. Sophie watched a trickle of sweat crisscross his neck and vanish beneath his shirt. What does he smell like? She closed her eyes. Like fresh wood and—

She opened her eyes and saw Beatrix subtly sniffing Tedros’ hair.

This girl needed to be dealt with immediately.

A headless bird landed in Sophie’s dress. She jumped on her seat, screaming and shaking her tunic until the dead canary plopped to the floor. She recognized the bird with a frown—then noticed the entire hall gaping at her. She gave her best princess curtsy and sat back down.