Flunked (Fairy Tale Reform School, #1)(7)
I hope.
The castle doesn’t look creepy at all—well, if you ignore the fact there are some gargoyle statues hanging around. With its trio of tall towers, mint-green roof, and ivy and rainbow-colored flowers everywhere, it rivals the courtyard of Royal Manor. Even the doors Olaf tossed me through were pretty—pale green with strange hand-carved panels that show pictures of a full moon, an apple, a mermaid, and a glass slipper.
The inside is inviting too. Olaf won’t let me go far, but I can make out a large fireplace in the sitting room that looks quite toasty. Velvet couches and leather chairs perfect for reading surround the fire and are also tucked into nooks next to large stained-glass windows. Candles are burning everywhere. Some are scented, which make me a bit woozy, and a bit hungry too. I can hear light music playing in the distance—something classical—but this room is silent, empty, and spacious. Ahhh. I take a moment to enjoy the space. Then I spot a large, gold sign above the doorway to the sitting room.
I burst out laughing. Are they serious? Turn a villain into a hero? That would be like asking a mermaid to morph into an ogre! I laugh harder, holding my belly, which is growling now that I missed what little we would have had for dinner.
The boot my family lives in gives new meaning to the word “cozy,” but this place is huge! My sisters and brothers could go wild without ever worrying about knocking over a candle and setting our boot on fire. It’s sort of fancy though, which could be a problem for Han and Hamish. I’ve never seen so many golden chandeliers and mirrors in my life. Large mirrors; small, ornately framed, creepy, jeweled ones; and a massive oval one with a purple gilded frame that hangs in the two-story entrance. I sense someone here is a mirror collector.
I lean in to the purple mirror. My frizzy brown hair and oval-shaped eyes that look nothing like Mother or Father’s are reflected back at me. Mother says I got Father’s stubborn chin, which juts out when I’m making a point. According to her, I’m always trying to make a point. I think I’m doing that right now actually. I look closer. Is that a hair sticking out of my chin? How did that get there? I should pluck it. I look like the old peddler that tried to trick Snow White. I lift my handcuffed hands to my chin and attempt to yank the hair out, but it won’t budge. Pete looks at me like I’m crazy. I lean even closer, my nose practically touching the glass.
“Do you mind?” a voice inside the mirror snaps.
I jump back. “Sorry! I didn’t realize this mirror was…occupied.”
“Show some respect,” says Pete, who is leaning against the far wall peeling an apple with a pocketknife. “That’s Miri the Magic Mirror you’re talking to.”
“Miri?” I look closer at the mirror and still only see my reflection. But wow, I’ve heard of this mirror. Everyone has! Seeing it is like spotting a princess in the flesh. If you cared about that sort of thing, which I don’t. “I thought you lived in Royal Manor with Ella and the other princesses.”
The mirror snorts. She seems as snobby as the royals. “You think those are the only places I hang? I can come and go between mirrors as I please—unlike you, my little thief, once you’re checked in here.”
“Who said I’m a thief?” I ask as I use a bobby pin (a crook’s best friend) hidden in my shirtsleeve to pick the lock on my handcuffs. I hear a little click and ahh…the cuff grips loosen. I keep them on though so Pete doesn’t make them tighter.
I walk away from prying Miri the Magic Mirror and find myself in front of a rack of FTRS brochures. I pick up the one titled Parents’ Guide. I open to the first page and read the top line: “How to Know If Your Child Should Be Enrolled at Fairy Tale Reform School.” I read the letter that follows from the school headmistress, glancing hard at the line that reads: “The path between right and wrong can easily be blurred in a fairy-tale community where magic and wishes can be used in ways that can turn good children into wicked ones.” The headmistress goes on to list what she calls “warning signs for delinquent behavior.” I wonder how I match up.
Constant lying. Check!
Unexplained, frequent absences. Check!
Anger over one’s class in life. Well…the royals’ privileges do set me off sometimes, so I figure I have another check for that one.
Bullying. No check. I never roughed anyone up in my life.
Turns friends into toads. No check. (How mean would that be?)
Thieving. A fourth check.
I check my score.
“Three or More Checks: Signs your child should be enrolled at FTRS immediately.”
Ugh! What does this headmistress know about my life? I had good reasons for my stealing. I cram the brochure back in the stack and walk away, stopping next in front of a wall of photos. There’s a picture of students smiling in a potion-making class while something green and fizzy bubbles out of a bottle nearby…another of boys flying on Pegasi through the sky above the school…kids fencing, students in front of a crystal ball…the list goes on.
Next to the school photos is a plaque: FTRS Esteemed Graduates. Underneath are photos of teens out in the real world. Some girl got an internship at the Fairy Fashion Institute of Design. That’s pretty cool. A guy in goggles is working part-time at the Enchantasia Elfin Science Institute. Not too shabby. My eyes fall on the third picture. It’s of a girl working with Ella’s fairy godmother. The photo is of them conjuring up glass slippers. I feel my blood begin to boil.