Flunked (Fairy Tale Reform School, #1)(15)

“You heard me,” she says coolly, her jet-black eyes staring right through me. “Think you can do something about it? A lowly cobbler’s daughter?”

I’m thunderstruck. The Evil Queen may seem evil, but is she really going to let this girl talk to me like that? I look around for allies.

This is the first chance I’ve had to size everyone up. Trade school was mostly made up of humans and your occasional troll. Here I see students who are ogres, goblins, mermaids, fairies, gnomes, and magical creatures I’ve only read about in storybooks. There are even desks in giant fish tanks! Two mermaids zapped into them while this girl was being rude to me. Other than her, the mermaids are the only two not forced to wear these itchy navy uniforms.

“For starters, I can deck you hard enough to knock you out of your chair,” I say, anger bubbling up inside me. I rise from my chair. “That should keep you from insulting people you don’t even know.”

I hear a high-pitched laugh and then long fingers digging into my shoulder. “Sit down, Miss Cobbler, before I send you to detention. First a tardy, and now you’re threatening my sister?”

This girl is the Evil Queen’s sister? If Harlow’s sister is in FTRS too, she must be really bad news.

My professor tsks. “You certainly want to get on my bad side, don’t you? I’m not sure that’s wise.” She snaps her fingers, and behind her the board starts to write more notes. “Gillian Cobbler—Anger issues, problems with authority, threatening other students. Recommend extended stay.” My heart plummets. Professor Harlow leans close to my face. She smells like roses. “Do you two need to take this outside?” she asks. “I’m fond of students working out their issues with a little fencing. After all, I do coach the team, and my sister, Jocelyn, is our star fencer.”

Fencing was one of the after-school clubs I actually wanted to try out for—before I knew the Evil Queen was the coach. I’ve only practiced fencing with our fireplace poker, but Mother said I have a knack. Looking at Jocelyn, I’m not sure having a knack is enough, and the last thing I want are problems that will keep me at FTRS longer. As much as it kills me, I can’t help but sigh. “No.”

“Smart choice,” Professor Harlow coos.

Jocelyn leans forward so that her hot breath is on my neck. “You better watch yourself, cobbler’s daughter,” she whispers. “People who cross my family don’t live to tell the tale. Or haven’t you heard what we can do with an apple?” I turn around to shoot her a nasty look, and Jocelyn smiles evilly.

“Since this is your first group session, Miss Cobbler, maybe you’d like to share how you wound up at FTRS.” Harlow moves back to her desk and takes a seat. I notice a clear glass case with a tiny gold mirror inside. What’s so special about that thing that it needs to be locked away? I wonder—and I feel a chill when I realize Harlow’s eyes are on me. I look away at a large crystal bowl on her desk. Almost every student dutifully brought the Evil Queen a bright red or green apple that looks as if they’ve been polished with shoe lacquer. I didn’t bring one, which is probably another sore spot.

“Umm…” There is no way I’m sharing anything in here.

“Umm?” Professor Harlow mocks in a high-pitched voice. “Umm? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” She drums her fingernails on the crystals on her sleeves. “How proud your parents must be of your remarkable intelligence.”

A few people laugh. Jocelyn is the loudest.

My eyes narrow, even though I know they shouldn’t. “I said ‘umm’ because there really isn’t anything I want to share.” Weakness is not a characteristic you want to share with the world, I can hear Father say.

Harlow snaps her fingers and I feel a cold swirling sensation come over me. The room is suddenly windy and my hair blows in front of my eyes, preventing me from seeing what is happening. Then just as suddenly, the wind dies away, and our desks have been arranged in a circle. It must be time for group sharing. My classmates look somber and it’s easy to see why. From the windowless walls and numerous torches that cast eerie shadows on the wall to the black bird perched on Professor Harlow’s shoulder, the vibe is sort of creepy. How is this a room for bonding?

“Maybe a casual group setting will make you more eager to ’fess up.” Harlow appears in front of my desk again as if by magic. No one can move that fast. “Share, Miss Cobbler. Now,” she says sharply.

I open my mouth, knowing another obnoxious comment will just land me in hotter water, but a short, stocky troll girl beats me to the punch. “I don’t mind going first,” she says. I smile at her gratefully.

Harlow whirls around, her cape flying in the air behind her like it’s going to give her wings. “Then go.”

“Hi, everyone. I’m Maxine.” She tugs on one of her large ears, which are covered in earrings of every gem and stone found in the Enchantasia mines.

“Hi, Maxine,” we all say like we’re supposed to.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the Troll War. Maybe because I lived through it,” she says softly. I watch as one of her eyes goes down as she speaks while the other stays in place. “The things I saw still keep me up at night.”

“You’re a troll,” Jocelyn pipes up. “You’re supposed to be up at night lurking around.” A girl next to her snickers, and I give them both the evil eye.