of them knew the answer to the School Master’s riddle, nor could they ponder it together until lunch. And if all this wasn’t bad enough, their Hobgoblin Debacle had become the talk of both schools.
In Uglification, Sophie tried to ignore all the snickers and focus on Manley’s lecture about the proper use of capes. This took valiant concentration, given Hester’s vengeful glares and the fact that capes could be used for protection, invisibility, disguise, or flight, depending on their fabric and grain, with each type requiring different incantations. Manley blindfolded the students for the class challenge, where students raced to identify their given cape’s fabric and successfully put it to use.
“I didn’t know magic was so complicated,” Hort murmured, massaging his cape to see if it was silk or satin.
“And this is just capes,” Dot said, smelling hers. “Wait until we do spells!”
But if there was one thing Sophie knew, it was clothes. She recognized snakeskin under her fingers, mentally said the incantation, and went invisible under her slinky black cape. The feat earned her another top rank and a look from Hester so lethal Sophie thought she might burst into flames.
Across the moat, Agatha couldn’t turn a corner without seeing Tedros and his mates mimicking hobgoblin lurches, howling gibberish, and beating each other with squashes. Wherever she went, Tedros and company followed, braying and grunting at the top of their lungs, until she finally snatched a squash and jabbed Tedros in the chest with it.
“The only reason this happened is because you chose me! YOU CHOSE ME, you boorish, brainless thug!”
Tedros gaped dumbly as she stormed off.
“You chose the witch?” asked Chaddick.
Tedros turned to find boys staring. “No, I—she tricked—I didn’t—” He pulled his sword. “Who wants to fight?”
With Hansel’s Haven still in ruins, classes were moved to the tower common rooms. Agatha followed a herd of Evers through the Breezeways linking all the Good towers in a zigzag of colorful glass passages high over the lake. While crossing a purple breezeway to Charity, she tuned out gossiping girls and pondered the School Master’s riddle over and over, until she looked up and saw she was all alone. After fumbling through the bubble-filled Laundry, where nymphs scoured dresses, dodging enchanted pots in the Supper Hall making lunch, and trapping herself in a faculty toilet, Agatha finally tracked down the Charity Commons. The pink chaise couches were already full and none of the girls made room for her. Just as she sat on the floor—
“Sit here!”
Kiko, the sweet, short-haired girl, scooted aside. As the others tittered, Agatha squeezed in beside her. “They’ll all hate you now,” she mumbled.
“I don’t understand how they can think themselves Good and be so rude,” Kiko whispered.
“Maybe because I almost burned down the school.”
“They’re just jealous. You can make wishes come true. None of us can do that yet.”
“It was a fluke. If I could make wishes come true, I’d be home with my friend and my cat.” The thought of Reaper made Agatha grasp for another subject. “Um, how’s that boy you wished for?”
“Tristan?” Kiko’s face fell. “He likes Beatrix. Every boy likes Beatrix.”
“But he gave you his rose,” Agatha said, remembering her wish at the lake.
“By accident. I jumped in front of Beatrix to catch it.” Kiko gave Beatrix a dirty look. “Do you think he’ll take me to the Ball? Not every boy can take that she-wolf.”
Agatha smirked. Then frowned. “What ball?”
“The Evers Snow Ball! It’s right before Christmas and every one of us has to find a boy to take us or we’re failed! We get ranked as couples based on our presentation, demeanor, and dancing. Why do you think we all wished for different boys at the lake? Girls are practical like that. Boys just all want the prettiest one.” Kiko grinned. “Who do you have your eye on?”
Before Agatha could vomit, the doors flew open and a busty woman flounced in wearing a bejeweled red turban and scarf that matched her dress, caked caramel makeup, swarthy kohl around her eyes, Gypsy hoop earrings, and jangling tambourine bracelets.
“Umm . . . Professor Anemone?” Kiko gawked.
“I am Scherezade,” Professor Anemone boomed in a ridiculous accent. “Queen of Persia. Sultaness of the Seven Seas. Behold my dusky desert beauty.”
She whipped off her scarf and did a terrible belly dance. “See how I seduce you with my hips!” She veiled her face and blinked like an owl. “See how I tempt you with my eyes!” She shook her bosom and beat her bangles noisily. “See how I become Midnight’s Temptress!”
“More like smoked kebab,” Agatha murmured. Kiko giggled.
Professor Anemone’s smile vanished, as did the accent. “Here I thought I’d teach you to survive 1001 Arabian Nights—dune-ready makeup, hegira fashions, even a proper Dance of the Seven Veils—but perhaps I should start with something less amusing.” She tightened her turban.
“Fairies have alerted me that candy has been vanishing from Hansel’s Haven even while it is under repair. As you know, our school’s classrooms are made of candy as a reminder of all the temptations that you will face beyond our gates.” Her eyes narrowed. “But we know what happens to girls who eat candy. Once they start, they can’t stop. They stray from the path. They fall prey to witches. They gorge themselves on self-pleasure until they die obese, unmarried, and riddled with warts.”
The girls were aghast someone would vandalize the tower, let alone ruin their figure with candy. Agatha tried to look just as scandalized. That’s when the marshmallows fell out of her pocket, followed by a blue lollipop, a hunk of gingerbread, and two bricks of fudge. Twenty gasps came at once.
“I didn’t have time for breakfast!” Agatha insisted. “I didn’t eat all night!”
But no one was sympathetic, including Kiko, who looked sorry that she’d been nice to her at all. Agatha picked guiltily at her swan.
“You’ll be cleaning plates after supper for next two weeks, Agatha,” said her professor. “A useful reminder of the one thing princesses have that villains do not.”
Agatha bolted up. The answer!
“A proper diet,” Professor Anemone huffed.
As the turbaned teacher divulged more Arabian Beauty Secrets, Agatha slumped into the couch. One class and her problems had already multiplied. Between the horror of a mandatory Ball, a week of dish duty, and a decidedly wart-ridden future, she had the crashing realization of just how fast she needed to solve the School Master’s riddle.
“How about poison in her food?” Hester spat.
“She doesn’t eat,” said Anadil, tramping with her through Malice Hall.
“How about poisoned lipstick?”
“They’ll
