The School for Good and Evil: The Complete 6-book Collection
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“Told you I last longer,” Hort growled as he listened proudly to boys’ terrified shouts upstairs, torn from their sleep.
They weren’t the only ones woken.
Slowly the teachers stirred in their coffins, one by one. Manley was the first to rise, jowly, pockmarked face flickering in torchlight.
Tedros grinned and extended his hand. “Professor, welcome back to the School for Boy—”
“Fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. A castle full of filthy strangers. A Trial with ludicrous terms. Terms you trapped us into once the girls agreed,” Manley sneered, tramping for the door. “Slaves to girls? Imagine what the stories would look like with the Storian in Dean Sader’s hands. Men dying at the end of every tale. Men on a losing streak worse than Evil’s.”
“And yet a silver lining if we win,” Professor Espada said, glowering at the two boys as his pointy black boots hit the ground. “Win this Trial, and those two cursed Readers die. Their fairy tale instantly undone … our schools back to Good and Evil, like they always were.”
“Ten days to right this ship, then,” Albemarle the woodpecker said, trailing after them with the rest of the Forest Group leaders. “I’ll prepare the schedules.”
“I’ll ready the classrooms,” said Chivalry’s Professor Lukas.
“AND I’LL WAKE THE SORRY LOSERS UP,” Castor roared, shaking out his fur.
Beezle burped with glee and ran after him.
“But—but what about me?” Tedros called behind them—
“You can compete for the Trial team like everyone else,” Manley spat back.
“Compete?” Tedros blurted.
“How about me!” Hort spluttered, shrinking to human. “He s-s-s-said—”
“He ain’t in charge anymore.” Manley’s voice echoed as he vanished down the hall’s stairs.
Hort glowered at Tedros, betrayed. The prince went red, straining for voice. “But how—how did they know—”
Castor swiveled from the door, rabid and bloodshot.
“JUST ’CAUSE WE’RE ASLEEP DON’T MEAN WE CAN’T HEAR.”
For five nights, Sophie, Agatha, and the witches met in the Supper Hall for Book Club, debating possible schemes to get the Storian and wish themselves home. And yet none seemed without serious risk. With each passing day, Agatha grew more and more doubtful of every new spell, Sophie more and more sharp with her, and both more and more convinced the Trial would happen as planned. Together they decided that come the 6th night, they’d pick a plan, for their time was running short.
At half past eight, Agatha and Dot swept down to the Supper Hall, frantically comparing spells, only to find Sophie, Hester, and Anadil standing outside the door.
“We have a problem.” Hester stepped aside, revealing the sign pasted over their book club’s.
“Can’t we move somewhere else?” Dot asked.
“It’s the only place butterflies don’t come,” worried Sophie. “We’ve already lost a week. We need a plan tonight.”
The girls fell quiet.
“Guess we’re all auditioning for A Pageant History of Female Accomplishment,” Agatha crabbed. Then she caught Sophie’s excited look and frowned. “You’re not getting a part.”
Ten minutes later, Sophie was cavorting in front of the curtain on a makeshift stage in the Supper Hall, delivering an inexplicable monologue in an inexplicable accent. “Hear me, Prrrrrince Humperdink! Do naht be fooled bah mah beauhty and charrrm. I ahm a simple woman. Simple in mahnd, simple in hearrrt—but do naht take thaht for simple in spirrrit.”
She looked down at Professor Sheeks and Pollux’s head, perched on the table, both blinking at her.
“I thought it was quite good,” Pollux wisped.
A hand yanked her behind the curtain.
“Was it too subtle?” Sophie said, eyeing the paltry line of girls waiting their turns.
“The only thing subtle is your chance to live,” Hester seethed. “We’re deciding on a plan and we’re deciding on a plan now. Everyone give their best idea.”
“I found a Spyder Sling Spell that sticks you to ceilings,” Anadil offered, leaning against the window. “You could hide in the vents for days.”
“And where do I bathe?” said Sophie. “Where do I eat?”
“You eat?” Anadil said, gaping.
“We could send my demon to steal the pen,” Hester mulled. “Surely he’ll get past the shield.”
“And if he gets caught? Your demon dies and so do you,” Sophie returned. “And now that I think about it, it’s a lovely idea.”
“What if I turn you into vegetables?” Dot offered. “Boys don’t eat vegetables.”
Everyone stared at her.
“Aggie?” Sophie said. “Surely you found something?”
Agatha had been quietly shifting in her clumps during all this, for she had been counting on the witches to find something foolproof. But now she had to face what she’d suspected all along.
“There isn’t anything safe, no matter what we choose,” she said. She looked up at Sophie, tearing. “This is my fault—we’re going to end up in that Trial, and it’s my fault—”
“But—but—we can’t die, Aggie,” Sophie rasped. “Not when we’re finally friends again.”
Agatha shook her head. “They’ll find us, Sophie. Any of these spells—they’ll find us …”
She stopped, because her eyes had caught something out the window.
“Aggie?” Sophie asked.
Agatha put her hands on the window as the witches crowded around her.
“Oh, it’s just Helga,” Sophie huffed, watching the frumpy, lavender-dressed gnome scurrying through the Blue Forest to her burrow by the brook. “Strange, though. She looks skinnier … I didn’t know gnomes go on diets. And her hair is different too! Looks like … like a …”
Now all the girls pressed their noses to the glass in shock.
“It can’t be,” Hester gasped.
For as the gnome slid back into Helga’s burrow in Helga’s dress and Helga’s hat, a face that wasn’t Helga’s peeked up through the hole to make sure no one saw it.
“It was a girl during class—it’s been a girl every day,” Dot said. “It’s impossible!”
But it wasn’t, Agatha thought, mirroring a Dean’s daring smile. For she’d seen the spell that had made it possible, lost and now found.
The spell that had hidden Yuba in the enemy’s castle all this time.
And the spell that would now help her and Sophie do the same.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie whispered to Agatha. “What does all this have to do with getting into the boys’ school?”
Agatha ignored her, glaring at Helga the Gnome, bound to a frilly rocking chair, long white hair covered in kale flakes. “Either tell us how you do it, Yuba, or we give you to the Dean.”
“I find your charges deeply offensive,” Helga retorted, her voice tight and pitchy. “All males have been evicted—”
“We saw you, Yuba,” said Hester, arms crossed next to Dot. “We saw your face.”
“Yuba? Me? Preposterous,” Helga scowled, struggling for the white staff out of reach. “Now leave at once, before I call the Dean myself.”
“Please! We need your help,” Agatha begged—
“But how can she help us with boys? And why do you keep calling her Yuba?” Sophie badgered, pointing at the dowdy gnome. “I feel like I’m missing something—”
“A brain,” Hester murmured.
With the butterflies generally dormant at night, the girls had waited until after midnight before each took a turn sneaking into the Blue Forest (Anadil was caught by Pollux and had to abort the plan). There was no way to squeeze through the tiny gnome hole they’d seen, but Dot had turned the ground around it to kale and the rest stomped through, stunning Helga in her lair. While the witches tied the gnome to the chair, Agatha poked around the tiny furniture and bookshelves for signs of a male inhabitant, but the doily linens, abundance of flowerpots, and lavender wallpaper all had a decidedly female touch.
Sophie frowned as she sniffed a flowerpot. “Strange, though …,” she said airily. “Never met a girl who likes hydrangeas.”
Agatha humphed at Helga, as if this idiocy would have to suffice as proof. “We know about Merlin’s spell, Yuba. We saw it in our book. We know you used it.”
“The Dean has revised all her brother’s texts to reflect her own agenda,” Helga shot back, reddening. “Besides, what do I know of Merlin’s spells?”
“Only what you taught Merlin yourself,” a voice said.
They all swiveled to Dot, in front of a bookshelf, peering at My Life in Magic by Merlin of Camelot. She held open the first page, eyeing the gnome.
To Helga and Yuba
My greatest teacher
“Should be teachers, shouldn’t it?” said Dot.
The den was quiet.
Agatha kneeled down in front of the old gnome. “Surviving Fairy Tales. That’s what you teach.” She took Helga’s wrinkled hand. “And we can’t survive ours without you.”
Helga’s gray pupils glued to the ground, unable to look at her student for a long time. Slowly, her long white hair retracted into her skull, growing scratchy and short. The grooves of her face magically deepened and the skin hardened to a leathery tan beneath a growing white beard. Her cheeks hollowed, her nose fattened, her eyebrows bushied, her body burlying to a barrel shape … until at last Yuba the Gnome gazed up at his former students, in the same lavender dress and wobbly heels.
“Do you mind if I change?” he asked quietly.
Sophie gawped at her old Forest Group teacher, morphed from a girl into a boy. She twirled to Agatha, appalled.
“That’s how you want us to get in the boys’ school? By turning us into … gnomes?”
Agatha banged her head against the wall.
On a dusty wool couch, Agatha, Sophie, Hester, and Dot held mugs of turnip-root tea, eyes flicking back and forth as Yuba paced the room in his belted green coat and orange cone hat.
“The irony of teaching is we often teach what we can no longer do. Though I have been teaching students for 115 years how to survive in the Endless Woods, I could hardly survive a day outside these gates anymore,” the gnome said, no longer straining to disguise his voice. “When the Eviction happened, I needed to remain here safely until the balance was restored. Disguising as Helga was the only way. No one would ever find me out. No one would have a clue.” He glowered at Sophie and Agatha, squished next to each other. “But given what you’ve done to the rules of Good and Evil, I’m not surprised you’re back to ruin the rules of Boys and Girls.”
Sophie leaned to Agatha. “I really don’t see how turning into gnomes ruins any—”
Agatha elbowed her and Sophie shut up.
Yuba slurped from his teacup and sat back in his rocking chair. “Gnomes are different from other creatures in the Woods for two reasons,” he said. “From your classwork, Hester can surely tell us the first.”
“They’re always neutral in war,” Hester answered confidently.
“Indeed. Gnomes have never once been drawn into a conflict, in over 2,000 years. We’ve maintained peace between ourselves and others, without exception.”
Sophie yawned and started pouring more tea.
“The second reason we’re different is less known and won’t be found in your books,” said Yuba. “Gnomes are born with the ability to change sex.”
Sophie missed her cup and poured tea into Hester’s lap.
“Temporarily, of course,” the gnome continued, ignoring Hester’s loud curses. “Boy gnomes can turn into girl gnomes and girls into boys at will until they come of age, when they revert permanently to the sex that they were born.”
Now Sophie dropped the whole pot on Hester.
“No wonder Daddy never let us near young gnomes in Sherwood Forest,” Dot marveled as Hester beat Sophie with a pillow. “Probably thought they were contagious.”
“The sheriff is not alone in his thinking,” Yuba sighed. “And yet, these two properties of gnomes were of deep interest to Merlin, the greatest student to ever attend the School for Good and Evil. In his free time, and often in this very cave, he probed and studied gnome biology so relentlessly his ranks suffered. It is why he was ultimately tracked as a Helper to Arthur’s father, instead of as a hero of his own tale.”
“But why would Merlin care whether gnomes were peaceful or changed sexes?” Agatha asked.
“Because be believed the two linked,” said Yuba. “He believed the brief period of playful transformation allowed gnomes to be more sensitive and aware than other creatures. If there was a way for humans to have that experience, even for a moment, you too would be as peace loving as the gnomes. All wars preempted, all notions of Good and Evil dissolved … mankind perfected.” Yuba paused. “He was such a passionate fellow I couldn’t help but believe him.”
Now Sophie and Hester were both paying attention.
“So you helped him find a spell?” Agatha asked. “A spell to turn human boys into girls and girls into boys?”
“A highly fleeting spell that would work on any species,” said Yuba. “Better to do it under my supervision than attempt such a dangerous spell on his own.” The gnome swallowed ruefully. “Long after he left the School for Good and Evil, he’d return to work with me on the formula. Indeed, it is why I still had the recipe, for I often spent free moments fine-tuning and testing it on myself before his next visit. It took us 20 years to perfect the spell—until Arthur used it to attack Lancelot for all the wrong reasons. Sabotage, subterfuge, revenge … Instead of Merlin’s spell bringing peace, now word spread of a curse that could bring down kingdoms and destroy men for all time.” Tears glistened in Yuba’s eyes.
“Merlin fled just before the armies came for him, but they incinerated the lifetime of work he’d left behind. Without his wife and his beloved adviser, Arthur succumbed to drunkenness and heartbreak. Neither I nor anyone else ever saw Merlin again.”
Yuba put down his rattling cup. “Professor Sader later effaced the episode from his histories, afraid of the embarrassment it would cause Arthur’s son. But the Dean has no such consideration for a boy.”
“Nor do we,” Sophie lashed, standing up. “That boy is planning our execution as we speak—”
“And Merlin’s spell is our only way into his castle,” Agatha insisted.
“So if you’ll please hand it over,” said Sophie, huffing towards Yuba, “my friend and I can go hom—”
She paused midstride, blinking.
“Aggie, darling? Not to be gauche, but how exactly would Merlin’s spell help us? I don’t mean to imply that our night has been a complete goose chase or that you’ve poorly thought this out, but what could we possibly do with some ludicrous spell that turns boys into girls and girls into …”
Sophie’s eyes suddenly popped.
“Here it comes,” Dot mumbled.
Sophie swiveled to Agatha. “But—but you don’t want us to—you weren’t talking about—”
“And if you find the Storian …,” the gnome said to Agatha, “there will be peace?”
Agatha gave him a sad smile. “A wish started this war, Yuba. Now a wish can end it.”
“A BOY?” Sophie screeched, clutching her stomach. “AGGIE, YOU WANT ME TO BE A … BOY?”
“It’s the only way to wish for each other without Tedros discovering us,” Agatha said, finally looking at her.
“But … b-b-b-b-boys? Two … b-b-b-boys?”
Yuba cleared his throat behind them. “I’m afraid only one can go.”
“What?” Agatha said, spinning—
“I left my notes in Sheeba’s classroom, when the butterflies heard me collecting ingredients,” said Yuba, hunching over the flowerpot with the hydrangeas. He dug his fist into the dirt and withdrew a small glass vial, shaped like a teardrop, filled with a fluorescing violet brew. “When I returned later, the recipe was gone. I am old and dodgy of memory and cannot reconstruct it, no matter how hard I try. This is my last dose of the potion.” He looked up at the two girls. “Enough for one of you to last three days in the boys’ castle.”
Agatha whitened. “But how will you teach class—how will you stay at this school—”
“I’m willing to risk my life if it means peace,” Yuba replied.
Neither Sophie nor Agatha said anything for a moment, staring at the smoky potion in his hand.
“I’ll go,” said Agatha, lurching for the vial.
“No! They’ll kill you!” cried Sophie, grabbing her. “We can’t be apart now—not after everything—”
“Someone has to bring the pen back—” Agatha said, wresting free.
“Send Hester!” Sophie shrieked, shoving the tattooed witch forward.
“Me?” Hester roared, shoving her back. “Now I’m being dragged into this?”
“Look, this is my idea, so I’ll go,” Agatha snapped—
“Or Dot!” Sophie said, goosing Dot forward. “She’s always trying to be useful—”
“I don’t want to be a boy!” Dot screeched, and ran around the sofa while Sophie chased her.
“We’ll draw lots!” Sophie gasped, grabbing one of Yuba’s notebooks, desperately ripping up pages—
Yuba stayed her hand. “Lives at stake, two schools at war … and you expect to draw lots? No no no,” he said, tucking the vial into his coat. “It should be me who goes, of course—but boys will surely suspect a gnome in their midst, given our penchant for peace. And if I can’t go, there’s only one way to settle this indeed. A proper challenge, just as this school requires. And there’s certainly no reason it shouldn’t be Hester or Dot who goes, or even Anadil, since you’ll no doubt betray everything to her that happened here tonight.”
The girls goggled at him.
“Tomorrow we choose our boy,” Yuba said, shunting them all out. “Forest Groups exist precisely to winnow those who can survive in the bleakest circumstances versus those destined to fail.”
As the girls scrambled from his kale-crusted burrow and towards the tunnel, Sophie brightened with relief. “See? Hester will get the pen! Hester wins everything—”
“Never making friends with Evers again,” Hester boiled, shoving Agatha hard as she tramped into the trees.
Agatha watched her trail away, stiffening with guilt. “I should be the one to go,” she said to Sophie. “How can he leave this up to a challenge? It doesn’t make any sense—”
Dot butted between them, licking kale off her fingers. “That’s ’cause you haven’t heard the Five Rules.”
“I say we fail on purpose,” Anadil harrumphed.
“And end up a newt during tracking? No thank you,” Hester grumped, the two witches in black traipsing behind Sophie, Agatha, and blue-uniformed girls flooding through the gates for Forest Groups. “What I don’t understand is how you or I bring the Storian back. The School Master’s tower follows wherever the pen goes. If we steal it, the tower will chase us—”
“Suppose I win?” Dot fretted, catching up. “I beat everyone in the poisoned-apple-making tryout this morning!”
“That’s because it involved food,” Anadil muttered.
Humming a cheerful tune, Sophie noticed Agatha still looking glum after last night. “Aggie, it really is the best solution,” Sophie whispered to her, once a few butterflies flew over. “Hester will get the pen in no time. We’ll write ‘The End’ before the Dean suspects a thing!”
Despite her unease over dragging the witches into this, Agatha knew Sophie had a point. If there was one person who could be trusted to accomplish a mission quickly, it was Hester.
“But it’s Yuba’s last dose,” worried Agatha. “How will he survive here?”
“Think he’ll be just fine,” Sophie snorted.
Agatha followed her eyes to the sea of girls, seated in front of the Blue Brook’s bridge, once made of stone, now replaced with rickety planks, suspended by two thick ropes. The girls gaped in silence at the old gnome standing atop the rope bridge, in a lavender dress and wobbly heels, his face completely obscured by bulbous red blisters, his hair hidden beneath a hideous babushka.
“A highly contagious disease of indeterminate duration, so I encourage you to keep your distance,” Yuba huffed in his best Helga voice. “Now, given you may soon need to survive among boys, perhaps it is time to remind us all of the Five Rules.” He flashed a loaded look at Agatha, Sophie, and the witches as he wrote in the air with his smoking staff:
1. Girls soften. Boys harden.
2. Girls reflect. Boys react.
3. Girls express. Boys suppress.
4. Girls desire. Boys hunt.
5. Girls caution. Boys ignore.
Agatha grimaced. “These are sexist and reductive—”
“Says the girl ignored, suppressed, and hunted by her prince,” Sophie replied.
Agatha went quiet.
“As you all know from your history classes last year, Ingertrolls are lady trolls, most often found beneath bridges in Netherwood and Runyon Mills,” Yuba declared. “And just for today, beneath our very own.”
The girls all peered under the bridge to see the other female group leaders uncage a bony, blindfolded troll, with saggy skin scaled pink like a salmon’s. It sat in a child’s squat, tongue lolling idiotically, scratching hairy armpits and swallowing flies.
“Ingertrolls are quite fond of young men and will do anything to separate them from their beloveds,” Yuba continued, frowning at Yara as she ambled in and plopped in the front row. “If a couple steps foot on their bridge, an Ingertroll will throw the girl off and let the boy pass unharmed. For today’s challenge, then, each of you will try to cross our bridge without being ejected—a feat no Evergirl or Nevergirl has ever managed at this school.” He eyed Hester confidently. “But the truly exceptional student will succeed.”
As all the girls lined up at the bridge, Agatha questioned how 120 girls could each take a turn by the time class ended—and got her answer when Yara took her first step and was flung squawking into the trees before she took another. Girl after girl barely made it past the first plank, hurled left and right by the hopping Ingertroll, smacking her gums and wagging her bottom.
“Use the rules!” Yuba berated, tightening his babushka.
But they were no use either. Dot was pitched into the Periwinkle Pines, Anadil into the Blue Brook, and Hester into the Fernfield before Agatha was thrown off, fastest of all, into the Turquoise Thicket.
“At least you got to the second plank,” Agatha sighed to Hester, picking thorns out of her backside. “Looks like it’s you after all.”
“EYYYIIIIIIII!”
They glanced up to see Sophie screeching and holding on for dear life to the rope bridge like a bull rider, while the Ingertroll tried to fling her off. Sophie would have happily allowed this, except for a minor problem.
“MY SHOEEEEEEE!” she bellowed, tugging frantically at her glass heel, trapped in a plank. “IT’S S-S-T-T-UCCCCCKKK—”
“And you say she’s changed?” Hester frowned.
“The old Sophie would have stopped Tedros from kissing me,” said Agatha, wincing as Sophie unleashed a torrent of rather unfeminine words.
“And you believe her? That someone else caused her symptoms? That she’s Good now?”
“Doubting Sophie is the worst mistake I ever made. It put all of our lives at risk,” Agatha said as the troll flipped the bridge and Sophie continued her wailing upside down. “I believe what I see now, Hester. And that’s a friend willing to do anything to get me home safe.”
Hester paused, taking this in. “Look, I’ll endure this hideous spell and get you two home. But only if it’s what you really want this time.”