The School for Good and Evil: The Complete 6-book Collection

“You should have heard the things Tedros called her,” Beatrix said to Evergirls at lunch.

Sitting in a heap of autumn leaves, Agatha tuned her out and looked over at Tedros and the Everboys playing rugby, silver swans glimmering on blue knit sweaters. Across the Clearing, Nevers shunned group activities and sat mostly by themselves. Hester glanced up from Spells for Suffering and read Agatha’s eyes with a shrug, as if Sophie’s whereabouts were the least of her concerns.

“Now, Teddykins, it’s not her fault,” Beatrix blathered loudly. “The poor girl thinks she’s one of us. We should feel sorry for someone so pathe—”

Her eyes bulged. Agatha saw why.

Sophie sashayed into the Clearing, dumpy black sack refashioned into a strapless bodice dress, F shimmering over her chest with devil-red sequins. She’d cut her blond hair even shorter and slicked it down in a shiny bob. Her face was painted geisha white, her eyelids pink, her lips vermilion, and her glass shoes had not only been repaired but heeled even taller, which together with the extremely short dress, showed off long, creamy legs. From the shadows she swanned into sun, and light exploded off her glitter-dusted skin, bathing her in heavenly glow. Sophie strutted past Hester, who dropped her book, past Everboys, who dropped their ball, and glided right up to Hort.

“Let’s do lunch,” she said, sweeping him away like a hostage.

Across the field, Tedros’ sword fell out of its sheath.

He saw Beatrix glaring and put it back.

During Surviving Fairy Tales, Sophie ignored Yuba’s lecture on “Leaving Useful Trails” and spent the entire class cozying up to Hort and filling her Never pail with roots and herbs from the Blue Forest.

“What are you doing!” hissed Agatha.

“Can you believe it, Aggie darling? They have beetroot, willow bark, lemonwood and everything else I need to make my old potions and creams! Soon I’ll be back to my real self!”

“This wasn’t the ‘real Sophie’ I had in mind.”

“Excuse me? I’m just following your rules. Flaunt my assets, which are many, as you can see. Speak through actions—have I said a word to Tedros? No. Haven’t. And lest we forget, parade competing suitors. Do you know what it takes to survive lunch with Hort? To nuzzle that rodent every time I see Tedros looking? Eucalyptus, Agatha. I numb my nose with eucalyptus. But in the end, you were right.”

“Listen, you misun— I was?”

“You reminded me what’s important.” Sophie nodded to Tedros and Everboys ogling her across the thicket. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a Never, Ever, or whatever. In the end, the fairest of them all wins.” She glossed her lips and gave them a smack. “You’ll see. He’ll ask me to the Ball before the week’s up and you’ll get your precious kiss. So no more negativity, darling, it gives me a headache. Now, where’s that worthless Hort? I told him to stay by me at all times!” She swept away, leaving Agatha speechless.

In the School for Evil, Nevers sulked through supper, knowing they had a full night of studying ahead. With spell casting set to begin, the teachers’ tests were based less on talent now and more in tedious recall. For the next day alone, they had to memorize eighty murder schemes for Lady Lesso’s first challenge, Giant commands for Henchmen, and the Flowerground Map for Sader’s geography exam.

“How will he correct them?” Hester groused. “He can’t even see!”

At curfew, Hester, Dot, and Anadil trudged back from the common room, piled high with books, only to find their room turned into a laboratory. Dozens of brilliant-colored potions bubbled over open flames, vials of creams, soaps, and dyes littered the shelves, a mess of dried leaves, herbs, flowers blanketed the three beds . . . and in the center of it all sat Sophie, buried under sequins, ribbons, and fabric, testing new concoctions on patches of skin.

“My God, she is a witch,” Anadil gasped.

Sophie held up The Recipe Book for Good Looks. “I stole it from an Ever at lunch.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying for challenges?” Dot asked.

“Beauty is a full-time job,” sighed Sophie, lathering herself in a bright green balm.

“And you wonder why Evers are slow,” Hester said.

“Sophie is back, darlings. And she’s just getting started,” Sophie mooned. “Love is my challenge now.”

And indeed, though Sophie placed near the bottom in all three challenges the next day, she placed first in Attention, arriving to lunch with her black uniform remolded into a dazzling slit-back toga dress, sashed with blue orchids. Her heels were a full inch taller, her face shimmering bronze, her eye shadow provocative periwinkle, her lips delicious crimson, and the glittering F on the front of her dress was now complemented by sequins on the back that read: “. . . is for Fabulous.”

“That can’t be allowed,” Beatrix whined to drooling boys.

But she was wearing her uniform, Sophie insisted to teachers, while usually fierce wolves looked just as awed as the boys. Dot swore one even winked at Sophie when it filled her lunch pail.

“She’s making a mockery of villainy!” Hester fumed, black eyes flaying Sophie across the Clearing. “They should lock her in the Doom Room permanently.”

“Beast’s still missing,” Anadil yawned. “Whatever spooked him must have been pretty bad.”

The next day, Sophie flunked all her challenges again and yet somehow avoided failing out of school. Though she was clearly the worst, each time she saw a “19” pop up instead of a “20.” (“I’m just too lovable to fail,” she preened to mystified classmates.)

During Forest Groups, Sophie ignored Yuba’s lecture on “Scarecrow Survival” and scribbled busily in her notebook, while Agatha glowered at her black baby doll dress, pink lollipop, and sequins spelling “F . . . is for Fun.”

“Name something else that starts with F,” Sophie whispered.

“I’m trying to listen and so should you, since we’ll be here forever.”

“F is for ‘Forever.’ Mmm, a bit heady. How about ‘Flirty’? Or ‘Fetching’?”

“Or ‘Futile’! He hasn’t even talked to you yet!”

“F is for ‘Faith,’” Sophie said. “Which I thought you had in me.”

Agatha grumbled to herself the rest of class.

But Sophie almost made her a believer when she arrived the next day in a belly-baring black halter, poofed miniskirt, spiky pixie hairdo, and heels dyed hot pink. The Everboys spent lunch goggling at her between slobbery bites of beef. And yet, even though Sophie could see Tedros sneak peeks at her legs, grit his teeth each time she passed, and sweat when she got too close . . . he still didn’t talk to her.

“It’s not enough,” Agatha said, accosting her after Yuba’s class. “You need better assets.”

Sophie looked down at herself. “I think my assets are quite sufficient.”

“Deeper assets, you idiot! Something inside! Like compassion or charity or kindness!”

Sophie blinked. “Sometimes you make wonderful sense, Aggie. He needs to see how Good I truly am.”

“She sees reason,” Agatha exhaled. “Now hurry. If he asks someone else to the Ball, we’ll never get home!”

Agatha proposed that Sophie sneak Tedros love limericks filled with clever rhymes or leave him secret presents that revealed depth and thought, tried-and-true strategies both outlined in Winning Your Prince. Sophie listened, nodding to all of this, so when Agatha arrived at lunch the next day, she expected to read a first draft of a verse or inspect a handmade gift. Instead, she arrived to find a group of 20 Nevergirls crowded in a corner of the Clearing.

“What’s going on over there?” Agatha asked Hester and Anadil, both studying in tree shade.

“She said it was your idea,” Hester sneered, eyes on her book.

“Bad idea,” Anadil said. “So bad we don’t want to talk to you.”

Confused, Agatha turned to the gathering. A familiar voice rang from its center—

“Fabulous, darlings! But just a little less cream!”

Agatha’s chest tightened. She forced her way through the swarm of Nevers until she stumbled into the center and almost died from shock.

Sophie sat on a tree stump, a painted wooden sign hanging from a branch above her:

All around her, Nevergirls were squeezing sticky red beetroot cream onto their pimples and warts.

“Now remember, girls. Just because you’re ugly doesn’t mean you can’t be presentable,” Sophie preached.

“I’m bringing my roommates tomorrow,” Arachne whispered to green-skinned Mona.

Agatha gaped, flabbergasted. Then she saw someone sneaking away. “Dot?”

Dot turned meekly, smothered in red cream. “Oh! Hello! I was just, you know, I thought I should check up on—you know, to see if, in case—” She looked at her feet. “Don’t tell Hester.”

Agatha had no idea what any of this had to do with winning Tedros’ love. But when she tried to corner Sophie after, three Nevergirls shoved in front of her to ask Sophie about picking the best beets. Agatha didn’t get a chance in Forest Groups either, because Yuba separated the Evers and Nevers.

“You must get used to seeing each other as the enemy! The first Trial by Tale is in three weeks!” the gnome said. “Now for the Trial, you’ll need a few basic spells. There is no one way to do magic, of course. Some spells require visualization, some incantations, others hand flicks, foot taps, magic wands, numeric codes, or even partners! Yet there is one rule common to all spells.”

From his pocket, he pulled a shiny silver key, the bit shaped like a swan.

“Evers, right hands, please.”

Baffled Evers looked at each other, and held out their hands.

“Mmm. You first.”

Agatha frowned as he grabbed her hand, then her second finger. “Wait—what are you going to—”

Yuba magically plunged his swan key into Agatha’s fingertip—the skin went see-through and the swan sank past tissue, veins, blood, and attached to her bone. The gnome turned the bow and her bone painlessly rotated a full circle. Her fingertip glowed bright orange for just a moment, then dulled as Yuba withdrew the key. Bewildered, Agatha stared at her finger as Yuba unlocked the rest of the Evers, then the Nevers, including Sophie, who barely glanced up from scribbling in her notebook.

“Magic follows feeling. That is our only rule,” said the gnome when he was finished. “When your finger glows, it means you have summoned enough emotion, enough purpose to perform a spell. You can only do magic when you have deep need and want!”

Students squinted at their fingers, feeling, coaxing with all their might, and soon fingertips started to flicker, each person’s a unique color.

“But like a magic wand, fingerglow is just a training wheel!” Yuba warned. “In the Woods, you will look like a nincompoop if you light up every time you cast a spell. We will relock your glow once you show control.” He grimaced at Hort, uselessly thrusting his finger at rocks, trying to make something happen. “If ever.”

The gnome turned back to the group.

“In the first year, you’ll learn only three types of spells: Water Control, Weather Manipulation, and Mogrification, both plant and animal. Today we’ll begin with the last,” he said to excited twitters. “A simple visualization spell but highly effective for escaping enemies. Now, since your clothes won’t fit after you Mogrify, it’s easier if you’re not wearing any.”

The students stopped tittering.

“But I suppose we’ll do,” Yuba said. “Who wants to go first?”

Everyone raised their hand except two. Agatha, who was praying now more than ever that Sophie had a plan to get home. And Sophie, who was too busy writing her next lecture (“‘Bath’ Is Not a Four-Letter Word”) to care about any of this.

By the third day on her stump, Sophie had 30 freshly bathed Nevergirls attend “Just Say No to Drab.”

“Now Professor Manley says a Never must be ugly. That ugly means uniqueness, power, freedom! So here’s my question to Professor Manley. How do you expect us to feel unique, empowered, or free . . . in this?” she roared, waving the dumpy black robes like an enemy flag. The cheer was so loud that across the Clearing, Beatrix’s pen slipped and ruined her ball gown sketch.

“It’s that mentally ill Sophie,” Beatrix snapped.

“Still looking for a Ball date, is she,” murmured Tedros, aiming his next horseshoe throw.

“Worse. Now she’s trying to convince the Nevers they’re not losers.”

Tedros missed his shot in surprise.

Agatha didn’t even try to see Sophie after lunch, with Nevergirls mobbing her for style advice. She didn’t try the next day, either, when an impromptu shoe burning erupted after Sophie’s lecture on “Abandon All Ye Clumps!” and wolves ran around whipping students back to the tower. And she certainly didn’t try the next, when every Nevergirl showed up for Sophie’s talk on “Fitness for the Unfit,” except Hester and Anadil, who cornered Agatha after lunch.

“This idea keeps getting more rotten,” Anadil said. “So rotten we’re not your friends anymore.”

“Boys, balls, kisses—all your problem now,” Hester snarled, demon twitching on her neck. “As long as it doesn’t mess with me winning Captain, I could give a hog’s behind what you two do. Got it?”

The next day, Agatha hid in the Tunnel of Trees, waited for the sound of high heels on dead leaves, and tackled Sophie in a flying leap. “What is it today? Cuticle creams! Teeth whiteners! More abdominal exercises!”

“If you want to talk to me, you can wait in line with everyone else!” Sophie yelled.

“‘Malevolent Makeovers,’ ‘Black Is the New Black,’ ‘Yoga for Villains’! Do you want to die here?”

“You said show him something deeper. Isn’t this compassion? Isn’t this kindness and wisdom? I’m helping those who can’t help themselves!”

“Excuse me, Saint Teresa, but the goal here is Tedros! How is this accomplishing anything!”

“Accomplishment. Such a vague word. But I’d consider that an accomplishment, wouldn’t you?”

Agatha followed Sophie’s look out the tunnel. The crowd in front of her stump was a hundred Nevers deep. Only there was one hovering in back who didn’t look like the rest.

A golden-haired boy in a blue rugby sweater.

Agatha released Sophie in shock.

“You should come,” Sophie called as she flounced out of the tunnel. “Today’s about dry, damaged hair.”

In front of the stump, Arachne’s one eye glowered at Tedros. “Why is Prince Prettyface here?”

“Yeah, back to your side, Everboy,” Mona sniped, pelting him with tree mold.

More Nevergirls started to heckle him and Tedros shrank back anxiously. He wasn’t used to being unpopular. But just as he was booed away—

“We welcome everyone,” Sophie admonished as she swept to her stump.

Tedros came back every day that week. He told his mates he just wanted to see what Sophie was wearing, but there was more to it. With each new day, he watched her teach misshapen villains how to straighten their hunches, hold eye contact, and enunciate their words. He watched Neverboys skeptically skulk on the fringes at first, only to soon badger Sophie for advice on sleeping better, masking body odor, and managing their tempers. At first the wolves yawned through these assemblies, but Tedros could see them listening as more and more Nevers showed up for Sophie’s lectures. Soon the villains began to debate her prescriptions at supper and over dreggy tea in common rooms. They started to sit together at lunch, defend each other in class, and stopped making jokes about their losing streak. For the first time in two hundred years, Evil had hope. All because of one girl.

By the end of the week, Tedros had a seat in the front row.

“It’s working! I can’t believe it!” Agatha gushed as she walked Sophie to the Tunnel of Trees. “He might say he loves you! He might kiss you this week! We’re going home! What’s tomorrow’s topic?”

“‘Eating Your Words,’” Sophie said, swishing ahead.

At lunch the next day, Agatha stood in line for a basket of artichoke and olive tartines, dreaming about the heroes’ welcome she and Sophie would get when they returned home. Gavaldon would erect statues of them in the square, fete them in sermons, stage a musical about their lives, and teach schoolchildren about the two girls who saved them from the curse. Her mother would have a thousand new patients, Reaper fresh trout every day, and she would have her pictures in the town scroll and anyone who had ever dared to mock her would now grovel at her—

“What a joke.”

Agatha turned to Beatrix, who was watching Nevers throng around Sophie in a revealing black sari and sharp-heeled fur booties for her lecture on “How to Be the Best at Everything (Like Me!).”

“As if she’s the best,” Beatrix snorted.

“I think she’s the best Never I’ve ever seen,” a voice said behind her.

Beatrix whirled to Tedros. “Is she now, Teddy? And I think it’s all a big fairy tale.”

Tedros followed her eyes to the ranking boards, smoldering in soft sunlight on the Blue Forest gates. On the Nevers board, Sophie’s name hung off the bottom, pecked to holes by robins. Number 120 out of 120.

“The Empress’s New Clothes, to be precise,” Beatrix said, and strutted away.

Tedros didn’t go to see Sophie that day. Word spread that he found it sad to watch Nevers pin their hopes on the “worst girl in school.”

The next day, Sophie showed up to a deserted stump. The wooden sign had been defaced.

“I told you to pay attention!” Agatha shouted as they waited in pouring rain after Yuba’s class for wolves to open the gates.

“Between sewing new outfits, brewing new makeup, preparing new lectures, I can’t worry about class!” Sophie sobbed under a black parasol. “I have my fans to think about!”

“Of which you now have none!” Agatha yelled. She could see Hester smirking at her from the Group 6 huddle. “Three bottom ranks and you fail, Sophie! I don’t know how you’ve survived this long!”

“They don’t let me fail! No matter how bad I am! Why do you think I stopped studying!”

Agatha tried to make sense of this, but couldn’t focus with her fingertip burning. Ever since Yuba unlocked it, it glowed whenever she was angry, as if raring to do a spell.

“But how did you get all those high ranks before?” she said, hiding her hand in her pocket.

“That was before they made us read. I mean, do I look like I care how to poison a comb, how to pluck toad eyes, or how to say ‘May I cross your bridge’ in Troll? Here I am trying to improve these villains and you want me to memorize the recipe for Children Noodle Soup? Agatha, did you know that to boil a child you have to wrap them in parchment first? Otherwise they won’t be properly cooked and might wake up in your pot. Is that what you want me to learn? How to hurt and kill? How to be a witch?”

“Listen, you need to win back respect—”

“Through intentional Evil? No. Shan’t.”

“Then we’re doomed,” Agatha snapped. Sophie exhaled angrily and turned away.

Suddenly her expression changed. “What in the—”

She gawked at the Evers ranking board, tacked to the gates.