her prince.
As she and Sophie sprinted behind Professor Dovey into the mirrored corridor, Agatha tried to find her breath. Professor Dovey was a famous fairy godmother, who’d always looked out for her. She had to give them answers.
“Who are those red hoods?” Agatha asked.
“How did the School Master survive?” said Sophie.
“Why are the Nevers on his side?” said Agatha.
“Quiet!” Professor Dovey snapped, erasing their footsteps with her magic wand. “We don’t have much time!”
“You don’t seem surprised to see us,” Agatha whispered, but her fairy godmother didn’t respond as she rushed them into Good’s deserted foyer, magically bolting doors behind them.
Only months ago, Sophie had eviscerated the hall in her witch’s revenge on Agatha and Tedros, blasting its stained glass windows, spiral staircases, and marble floors to shards. But now the two friends drew breaths at its redone facade. Where there used to be two pink staircases and two blue, all four stairwells were now the same royal blue as the castle. Lit by high stained glass windows, the staircases spiraled up to the dormitory towers, names tattooed on richly decorated balusters: HONOR, VALOR, PURITY, and CHARITY. Agatha had loathed the prissy princess pink of the Purity and Charity towers, but seeing them turned the same color as the prince towers gave her an unsettled feeling.
Sophie nudged her, and Agatha turned to see her peering curiously at the Legends Obelisk in the center of the foyer, a soaring crystal column blanketed with portrait frames. Inside each of the frames was a painting of a past student, next to a storybook illustration of what the child became upon graduation. But looking up at the gold-framed Evers on top who became princesses and queens, the silver-framed ones in the middle who became helpers and sidekicks, and the bottom-rung lot who became cinder sweeps and servants, the two girls noticed something peculiar …
“Where are the boys?” Sophie said, for all their portraits had been removed.
Agatha swung her head to the Honor staircase: the frieze of knights and kings had been replaced with a frieze of sword-brandishing, chain-mailed princesses. Sophie swiveled to the Valor staircase, once decorated with burly hunters and their trusty hounds—now huntresses in houndskins and decidedly female dogs. Both girls twirled to the lettered murals across the walls that once spelled E-V-E-R … and now spelled G-I-R-L.
“It is a School for Girls!” said Agatha, thunderstruck. “What happened to Good?”
“We can’t fight the School Master without boys!” cried Sophie.
“Shhhh!” Professor Dovey hissed, rushing them up the Valor staircase. “No one must know you’re here!”
As the girls chased her elegant silver-haired bun through Valor’s princely blue arches and murals, they gawked at the once virile visions of princes destroying demons and saving helpless princesses, now flaunting different endings: Snow White smashing out of her glass coffin with her fists, Red Riding Hood slitting the wolf’s throat, Sleeping Beauty setting her spindle on fire … The red-blooded princes, hunters, men who rescued them, who saved their lives … gone.
“It’s like Everboys never existed!” whispered Agatha.
“Maybe the School Master killed them all!” whispered Sophie.
She suddenly heard soft tinkling and twirled to see three glowing blue butterflies peeking from behind a wall. They caught her looking and with a high-pitched meep! ducked and disappeared.
“What is it?” Agatha said, glancing back.
“Hurry!” Professor Dovey scolded, and the two girls scampered to follow, stooping past the Laundry, where two seven-foot, floating nymphs scrubbed sudsy blue bodices, through the Supper Hall, where enchanted pots stewed saffron rice and lentil soup, and past the Valor Common Room to the rear stairwell. Exhausted and aching from their torments in the Woods, Sophie and Agatha tried to keep up, but Professor Dovey was sprier than she looked.
“Where are we going?” Agatha panted.
“To the only other person who can keep you alive,” her fairy godmother shot back, bustling up the stairs.
Sophie and Agatha instantly ran faster, up five long flights to the lone white door on the sixth floor—
“Professor Sader’s office?” Agatha puffed. “But he’s dead!”
Professor Dovey ran her fingers over the raised blue dots on the former History teacher’s door. It swung open without a sound, and Sophie and Agatha scrambled in behind her.
A thin woman stood at the window, long black braid dangling over the back of her pointy-shouldered purple gown. “Did anyone see you?”
“No,” said Professor Dovey.
Lady Lesso spun to Sophie and Agatha, violet eyes flashing.
“Then it’s time they learned what they’ve done.”
“We did this?” Agatha blurted.
“But we weren’t even here!” said Sophie, turning between the Dean of Evil at the window and the Dean of Good at Professor Sader’s old desk, overflowing with open books.
Lady Lesso glowered at their dirt-smudged faces. “In this world, actions have consequences. Endings have consequences.”
“But our fairy tale ended happily!” Sophie said.
Professor Dovey let out a groan.
“Why don’t you tell us how it ended?” Lady Lesso sneered, blue veins throbbing.
“We killed the School Master and solved his riddle!” Sophie said.
“That’s how Sophie and I went home!” said Agatha.
“Clarissa, show them how it really ends,” Lady Lesso growled.
Professor Dovey flung a book across the desk. It was heavy and thick, bound with brown sheepskin and spattered with mud. Agatha opened to the first soggy page. Black calligraphy, slightly smeared, spilled across fresh parchment.
Sophie turned the page to a richly colored painting of her and Agatha, standing before the School Master.
Once upon a time, the script below read, there were two girls.
Agatha remembered the line. The Storian had written it to start their fairy tale when they broke into the School Master’s tower. Flipping the book’s pages, Agatha saw her and Sophie’s story unfold in a brilliant sweep of paintings: Sophie trying to win Tedros’ kiss … Agatha saving Tedros’ life in a brutal attack
