Authors: Marissa Burt
W
on’t your parents be worried about you?” Peter asked as he slid a tray of food onto the table. Una had just woken when Peter had knocked on her closet door on his way back from detention, and now they were in the Woodland Room eating breakfast.
Una rubbed at a sooty spot that wouldn’t come out of her woolen dress. Peter had brought her a sackful of borrowed clothes, but she hadn’t had a chance to change into them yet. “I haven’t seen them since I was a little girl.” She debated telling the lies that had slipped off her tongue so easily in her old life.
My parents are international diplomats. They’re in the Peace Corps. They work for the CIA and have to live at a top secret safe house.
Una avoided Peter’s gaze and cut into a stack of pancakes. “The truth is that my parents just left one day. I was too young to remember them, but my social worker said that I woke up one morning and they were . . . gone.”
“Oh,” said Peter, a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Una said, pouring hot syrup over her plate. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, really.” And she was most of the time. Except on her birthday. And Christmas. Una pushed the memories aside. No matter what had happened to Una’s parents, they couldn’t help her now.
“Tell me about detention,” Una said in a way that ended the discussion about her parents. Sam joined them and settled himself in at the table with a huge stretch. After Una scooted a dish of milk over to him, Peter announced, “Elton knows you’re a WI.”
“What?” Una’s fork clanked onto her plate. “How does he know?”
“He knows?” Sam said as he looked up from his milk. “But we know that he knows.” He blinked. “And he doesn’t know that we know that he knows.”
“Not helpful, Sam.” Peter shook his head. He told them about the strange woman and Elton.
Una felt like throwing up. “Someone I’ve never met wants to
dispose of me
?” She pushed her plate off to the side, and Sam sniffed the leftover pancakes eagerly. “And Elton wants to blame me for all the things going wrong in Story?” She began drumming her fingers on the table. There had to be something she could do. Some way she could fight back. Una tapped her fingers harder. “I can’t tell which is worse. Being blamed for everything or being hunted like a mouse. Just great.”
Peter swatted at her hands. “Can you stop doing that for one second? This is important!”
Una scowled at him. “Don’t you think I know that it’s important? The guy in charge of everything is after me. I get it. Just give me a minute, okay?”
Peter didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he coughed. “Well, he’s not in charge of everything. Just his Talekeepers, and they tell him what’s going on in their districts, and then he approves all the copies of the old Tales and does a bunch of other administrative stuff for Perrault and—” Peter looked up then and saw Una’s glare. He hurried on. “But the point is, he’ll be following you, Una, and—”
“I’ve got that part,” Una said shortly. Like she needed to be reminded that, in a land full of people who hated WIs, the most important character of all was going to be watching her.
“You’ve just got to find out why you’re here before anyone else does,” Peter said importantly. “That way he can’t connect you with the Muses.”
“Great. I’ll get right on that.” She leaned back in her seat. “Who is this woman, let’s call her Red, that she’s got the guy in charge of everything”—she looked pointedly at Peter—“oh, sorry, the
Tale Master
, doing whatever she says?”
But no one had an answer, and Peter started stacking the empty breakfast dishes. “Whoever she is, she found out you’ve been Written In,” he finally said. “And she wanted Elton to know. But they can’t get to whoever Wrote you In, or they wouldn’t be using you as bait for this big threat they’re worried about,” he reasoned. “That’s something, right?”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Una snorted. “That someone they’re afraid of Wrote me In?”
Peter held his hands up. “I’m just saying we have a little bit of an advantage. Besides, there’s more to it than that.” He told them about what George had said.
“Maybe he’ll be so busy worrying about his Talekeepers that he’ll forget about me,” Una said hopefully as she placed the stacked dishes on a tray.
“Not likely.” Peter wiped his hands on a napkin. “I think he’ll do whatever Red says.”
Una carried the tray over to the counter and returned to the table with a cloth. “Well, is she a Talekeeper?”
Peter’s voice sounded thoughtful. “I don’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure. She never took off her hood. She looked like she might be from Horror Hollow.” He explained how the air had gone all icy cold when Red had entered and left Elton’s office. “Maybe we should keep you hidden so they can’t find you. The blanket closet—”
“Is not an option,” Una said with finality as she wiped the last of the crumbs off the tabletop. “Besides, if I hide away, they’ll know that we’re on to them.” She scratched behind Sam’s ears. “After all, they don’t know that we know that they know.” Una felt a glimmer of hope. She smiled wickedly. “As long as they think I’m their little mouse, I’m safe.”
Peter put on his cloak. “For now, Elton’s pretending that he buys my lie that you’re a transfer student and has agreed to let you attend classes until your paperwork comes through. And”—he brought out a small sheet of folded paper—“you’ve got a room and a roommate.”
Una scanned the campus map he handed her along with a key. She looked at the building circled in red. “Grimm Dorm? That doesn’t sound promising.”
“I bet it’s nicer than my dorm,” Peter said, leading her down a hallway. “Boys aren’t allowed in girls’ rooms, but I’ll take you as far as the gardens.”
Sam made an impossibly high arch with his back. “I’m off to Eating,” he said, and disappeared into a cluster of cats.
Una laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Eating’s a required course every term for all the animals,” Peter said as though this was the most normal thing in the world. “We won’t take it until next term.”
“No way,” Una said. “What can you possibly learn in Eating class?”
Peter ducked into a room. “Cooking. Baking. Foraging. You do all those things in a Tale.” He skirted a grand piano and a harp resting in its stand next to it. “And the best ones make you want to go rummage through your cupboards for a snack. Do you think that comes easily?”
They had arrived at a pair of glass doors that emptied out into a courtyard. It seemed like everything in Birchwood Hall led out into a courtyard.
“Well, this is where I leave you.” Peter turned to go. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour, so we can go to class. Good luck.”
Una wished so much that she could hole up in her old library desk and escape from the world a little bit. Instead, she squared her shoulders and made her way down the twisty gravel path bordered by a crumbling stone wall. Small trees and shrubs stripped of their spring splendor crouched near the ground. In one corner, an outdoor fireplace crackled. Two students sat bundled up in front of the fire. They waved to Una as she passed.
The whole roommate situation bothered Una. Nothing good had ever come from sharing a room with her foster siblings.
And what kind of girl doesn’t have a roommate yet?
The trees were bigger farther down the path, and their branches were not quite bare. A squirrel scolded her, and a shower of red and gold leaves fell down onto her head. A weathered sign read:
GRIMM DORM, FIFTY PACES
.
Una followed the path as it wound off to the right. And in forty-nine paces, she climbed a little hill and saw it. The top of a thatch-roofed cottage peeked over a brick wall. Clouds of smoke puffed from the chimneys that were stacked, a little off-kilter, on the roof. The building was not quite level, and some of its edges appeared round while others tilted at funny angles.
Once inside, Una found the stairs and hurried down the long narrow hall to her room. Holding her breath, she knocked. When she didn’t hear an answer, she turned her key in the lock and pushed open the heavy door.
Una stood in the doorway for several seconds. She had no words. It was bad enough that the girl lounging on one of the beds looked like a snooty, fairy-tale princess. What was worse was that Una recognized her.
The girl from Peter’s exam!
The Lady Snow ran perfectly manicured fingers through her short dark hair, humming an unrecogniz-able tune. Small birds twittered to each other as they pulled a garment out of the bureau that lined one wall and folded it into a brown leather satchel.
Snow turned and fixed her shockingly blue eyes on Una. “Ah . . . my new roomie,” she said.
Una tripped on a woven rug, fell against the dresser, and with a half turn, dropped onto her bottom at Snow’s feet. “Hi,” she said in a small voice from her spot on the floor.
Shoot.
She hopped to her feet and stuck out her hand. “I’m Una. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
Snow looked down at Una’s hand and went back to finger-combing her hair. “I’m Snow. So glad to see you again. Really.” She snapped her fingers at the birds, who had stopped to watch. “I don’t have all day,” she said. Two small rabbits scurried across the room and rummaged in the satchel.
Una stared at the birds, who had collapsed in a little heap on the dresser, wings spread and tiny chests heaving. Suddenly, it hit her.
Snow.
“Wait—are you
Snow
White
?”
Snow laughed. “Didn’t they teach you anything at your old school? The real Snow White finished her Tale ages ago.” She examined the manicured red nail on her index finger. “Look. Una. Whoever you are, you can drop the dumb and naive act.” Snow stood up and glared down at Una. “I don’t care why you’re here. I don’t care why Elton forced me to take you as a roommate. I only know that because of you . . . I failed my practical.”
Una took a step back as Snow moved toward her.
Snow punctuated each phrase with her pointing red fingernail. “That’s right. Failed. So . . . whoever you are . . . whyever you’re here . . . stay out of my way.”
Una didn’t know what to say. One of the little birds raised a tiny head and looked sympathetically at her. At least Una thought it was sympathetic. It was hard to tell with birds.
“Are you stupid as well as ugly?” Snow asked. “Hello! Anyone home?”
“I heard what you said.” Una forced her mouth into a smile. Maybe she could request a different roommate. But that would probably mean asking for Mr. Elton’s help. Her cheeks started to hurt. Better to avoid Elton as much as possible. Una opened her satchel and began to put away the clothes Peter had borrowed for her.
“Uh-uh-uh,” Snow interrupted. “The bureau’s mine, dear. I’m sure you understand. Princess-in-training and all that.” Snow gave an affected little laugh and plopped back down onto the bed.
Una didn’t say anything.
After a too-long pause, Snow went on, “I have ever so many garments, you see. My aunt insists I only wear the newest fashions. How very . . .
quaint
. . . your dress is. I always wish I could have such”—Snow paused dramatically—“
simple
tastes, but Auntie makes me shop at Lady Godiva’s.”
Another affected laugh from Snow. Another short silence.
Quaint. Simple.
Instantly, Una felt frumpy and out of fashion. She folded the rest of the garments Peter had borrowed for her. For each item Snow had a commentary: That one was adorable. Another, darling. Una was a dear for liking such plain things. Una gritted her teeth.
What would happen if she threw all of Snow’s pretty dresses out the window? But that would probably mean getting in trouble.
Snow’s not worth that.
Una tucked her satchel under the bed and gathered her cloak.
Snow’s giggles subsided, and she sat up, cross-legged, on her bed. “I heard Peter Merriweather is in love with you,” she said. “Is it true?”
Yeah, right
. Una smiled sweetly at Snow. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”
“What about the things you see?” Snow hopped up and peered into the mirror. She tied a ribbon under her hair and pulled it over her forehead to make a crimson headband. “I could have sworn he was as surprised as me to find you in that cave,” Snow went on, tying off the nearly perfect bow. “You know, the examiners were very interested in your appearance in the practical. I rather think they want to know more about you.” She paused and studied her reflection. “I told them I didn’t know anything, of course, but I suppose soon I’ll know everything about you, what with us being roomies!” Snow snatched her cloak from a peg on the wall and snapped her fingers. A squirrel raced up and leaned against a button that released the dorm room door. She turned to give Una one more fake smile and said over her shoulder, “And if we have any roommate problems, I’m sure the examiners will be glad to help. Right, roomie?”
U
na wrapped her cloak more tightly about her shoulders and readjusted the satchel Peter had loaned her. “She was awful, you guys. I am so not overexaggerating.”
“Snow’s not that bad,” Peter said as he led the way down the wooded path.
“You don’t have to live with her,” Una said. Snow’s threat about the Examiners unnerved her more than she wanted to admit. “Let’s just say I’ll be spending as little time in my dorm room as possible.”
Peter handed Una a red apple. “Rooming with Snow has to be better than the blanket closet.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Una said. She twisted the apple stem until it popped off. “I just hope she’s not in all of my classes. Does everybody take the same ones?”
“That depends on your District,” Peter said. “Take Outdoor Experiential Questing, for example. Fantasy folk have that each term, we just learn different things.”
Una took a big bite of apple as Peter listed his other classes. “Heroics and Villainy are both required for everyone at first, but then after three semesters, you get placed in one or the other.”
“But everyone can’t be a Hero or a Villain,” Una said.
Peter pushed an overgrown branch out of the way. “Well, that’s not exactly true. Most characters in Story are pretty clear-cut. You either learn how to save the day or how to try and destroy everything.”
“But that’s not right,” Una argued. “In real life, no one is completely good or completely bad. People are mixed-up jumbles of everything.” She told Peter about one of the mean girls at Saint Anselm’s who made fun of kids for the clothes they wore but always gave money to the homeless man who sat at the bus stop.
“Well, things are different in stories,” Peter said.
“You’re telling me,” Una said.
The path opened up into a grassy square where groups of students bustled down the worn trails that led off in different directions. Most of them wore cloaks of some sort to guard against the chill morning air. It was obvious to Una where some students belonged. She knew that the girl with the magnifying glass was most likely learning to solve a mystery, and the boy in the sleek space suit belonged in a science fiction Tale. But others were more difficult to place. She wished she had explored the library at Saint Anselm’s more. Where did the boy in the kilt fit? The girl with a feathered hat?
And what about me?
Where would she get classified if her whole future was decided for her with one stroke of a Talekeeper’s pen?
“Do you ever get to learn what you want?” she asked.
Peter considered. “Well, after your first year, you can choose some electives. They pretty much have to fit in with your course of study and your district, though. Since I’m in the Fantasy District, I won’t go taking Rodeo Riding class or something.”
“Rodeo Riding? Very useful.”
“Sure it is,” Peter said as he sidestepped a group of clowns practicing their juggling. “If you’re training to be a Cowboy. I’d rather take Jousting myself, but I guess I’ll have to see. Maybe I’ll have to retake the unit on dragons after failing that Heroics practical.” He smiled as he said it, but his eyes looked worried.
“Snow said the examiners at her review panel were curious about me.” Una ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach and nibbled around her apple core.
“I’m not surprised,” Peter said. “Elton can’t be the only one who noticed something odd.”
Una tossed her apple core into a trash bin. Elton and Red had agreed to leave her alone for now, but who knew what the Talekeepers would do when they found a WI in their midst?
“Just try and keep a low profile,” Peter said as they fell into step behind a trickle of students heading across a narrow bridge toward a stone building. “Especially during this next class. Our Villainy professor is pretty sharp.” Una’s bootlace had come undone, so she knelt to tie it.
“So does a Villain teach Villainy?” Una called after Peter as she knotted the lace.
“That depends on whom you ask,” a smooth voice said from behind her shoulder. Una jumped up and whirled around. The owner of the voice had long silver hair that flowed out from under a pointed black hat. A shimmering cloak covered her slender form, and bright green eyes looked out of a flawless face.
“I am the Villainy professor,” the woman said. “Welcome to Perrault, Ms. Fairchild.”
How does she know my name?
Una felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she wondered what was considered polite conversation with a Villain.
How very creepy you are looking today, Professor. Your voice makes my insides feel like ice water. And where exactly does one find such a sinister-looking cloak?
Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Professor.” Which, of course, was a lie. “I’ve just transferred here, and I’m so excited to study Villains.”
The professor studied Una with her piercing green eyes. “We won’t exactly be studying Villains, Ms. Fairchild. But why don’t you tell me about your classes at—where was it you said you transferred from?”
“Oh, that’s not very interesting at all,” Una said with what she hoped sounded like a laugh. “I’d much rather hear what I’ve missed in your class this year.”
Professor Thornhill’s lips thinned, but she began to talk about the previous weeks’ lessons. Una caught a few words here and there, something about villainous motivation and understanding bitterness, but she was much too preoccupied with catching up with Peter to pay careful attention.
Peter had almost reached the classroom by the time Una and the professor crossed the bridge. Una’s boots made little clicking sounds, but Professor Thornhill slipped over with whispering footfalls. The trail ran through a gnarled hedge whose thorns made little snags in Una’s woolen dress. Professor Thornhill went through unscathed. The path opened onto a desolate plain, where Una’s cloak swirled around her in the autumn wind. Professor Thornhill’s clothing barely moved at all.
By the time they reached the Villainy classroom, Una felt as shaky as the building itself. The stone tower rose at least two stories high but was so tilted that it looked like it would topple at any moment. Professor Thornhill held the battered wooden door open for her.
“Thanks for filling me in on the class, Professor,” Una said, darting past the woman and hurrying over to where Peter was sitting.
“You look as white as a sheet,” Peter said around a mouthful of the candy bar he was holding.
Una slid onto the bench. “That could have to do with the fact that I was escorted all the way here by a
Villain.
” She glanced toward Professor Thornhill, who now stood at the front of the room. “She was right behind us on the path, and she was asking me questions about where I transferred from.”
Peter leaned in. “
Right
behind us? Do you think she overheard us?”
Una paused.
What were we talking about? Classes and something about the examiners being suspicious. Anything about being Written In?
“I wish I knew. Is she a Talekeeper?”
Peter shook his head. “Professors aren’t usually Talekeepers. Too many other responsibilities.”
The classroom was warm enough, but Una’s whole body felt chilled. She shrank down into her cloak and looked around with interest. Long wooden benches ran alongside the three large tables that were in the center of the room. Above these, low-hung chandeliers cast everything into the yellowed light of many candles. Una felt like she was in a medieval castle. The only windows were tiny slits cut high up into the walls. Curtained-off cabinets and shelves interspersed with shadowed doorways ringed the room. Except for witchy Professor Thornhill, Villainy didn’t seem so bad. Then the sound of a girl’s laughter floated in through one of the curtains.
Una groaned. Villainy was about to get a whole lot worse.
Snow poked her head into the classroom and slid into the seat on the other side of Una. “Hi, Peter,” she said, and reached over Una to wipe a tiny smudge of chocolate off of his chin.
Peter rubbed his sleeve across his mouth. “Hey, thanks, Snow.”
Una glared at Peter. They didn’t need to encourage Snow. Living with her was bad enough. The last thing she needed was Snow sitting with them in class and following them around.
“Oh, hi, roomie,” Snow said, and glanced cattily at a group of girls at the next table. “I didn’t see you there. I mean, your dress just kind of blends in.” The girls snickered.
Una crossed her arms. “I wonder when the jokes about my clothes will get old. Oh, wait! They already are.”
“You’re so touchy,” Snow said, and snapped her fingers. A tiny squirrel popped out of the curtained room, dragged Snow’s satchel over, and deposited it at her feet. “I’m going to sit here today,” Snow announced. “It’s so nice to be next to my . . . roomie.”
Una gave Snow a withering look, but Snow was busy making the squirrel retie her hair ribbon and didn’t even notice. Una received much better results when she made a face at Peter. It was quite satisfying to see him nearly choke on his last bite of chocolate.
Maybe he’ll throw up, and then Snow can help him wipe the puke off.
A solemn bell tolled, and the chatter of student voices was instantly stilled by Thornhill’s echoing command, “The class will come to order.”
Una looked around. The class was already in order. Even Snow’s squirrel sat bolt upright on the floor.
“Today will be the evaluation of your Villain’s laugh,” the professor was saying. “As you know, this is standard Villainy curriculum. So even those of you who are recently joining us should be prepared.” She paused, and her gaze lit on Una. Una gulped. Surely a teacher, even a Villainy professor, couldn’t really be
villainous
. Elton, horrid as he was, had only given Peter detention. And Una had never even met Professor Thornhill before today, so she must be imagining that accusatory look in Thornhill’s eyes. But what if Thornhill had overheard their conversation on the way to class? Did she already hate Una for being a WI?
“I want you to evaluate each other’s laughs.” While Thornhill proceeded to give the class instructions, Una braved a peek. Thornhill wasn’t watching Una anymore. “All right, then. Please stand up and find a partner,” she said.
Before Una could get to Peter, Snow grabbed her elbow firmly. “Let’s partner up, Una.” Peter turned to face the boy sitting behind him, whose laugh sounded like he was choking.
Soon menacing giggles and nerve-racking screeches filled the room. “Well done, Mr. Oddsbody,” Thornhill’s low voice sounded behind Una. “Now for you, Ms. Fairchild,” she said.
Una’s throat went dry. She could feel Thornhill’s eyes watching her.
You can do this. Just think of the Wicked Witch of the West.
Una closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Out came a maniacal cackle. Her eyes popped open.
It doesn’t even sound like me.
She saw Snow’s rosebud mouth gape. The classroom went quiet around her.
“Very good,” Thornhill said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And very villainous.” She turned to the next pair. “Carry on, class.”
Una nodded meekly. Snow’s evil laugh was coming out like a nasal chuckle. After Thornhill was out of earshot, Una felt Peter’s bony elbow in her ribs.
“Nice going, Una. Now Thornhill’s taken special notice of you.”
“I couldn’t help it,” she hissed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s been watching me the whole time. I think she suspects.” She eyed Thornhill’s back. “What’s wrong with her, anyway?”
Peter’s face went all funny, and he looked over at Snow. Una went on. “I mean, don’t you think she’s kind of creepy? Our whole walk here I felt like she was going to put a spell on me or something.” Una waited for a smile of camaraderie, a chuckle—anything.
“Una—” Peter began, and then bit it off with a smile for Snow. “Oh, Snow, did I mention you looked nice today?”
Snow ignored him. “Why’s that?” she asked Una. “Why do you think Professor Thornhill’s creepy?”
Peter was slinking back to his seat. Una looked from his back to Snow’s unreadable face. “I guess it’s because she’s so . . . well . . . villainous-looking, and her eyes are too green, and . . .” She shivered, remembering the walk over. “Something’s not
natural
about her.”
The laugh evaluation was over now, and students were returning to their seats. Snow lifted one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Let me get this straight.
You
think something’s not right about
her
?” She gave Una a little chuckle that sounded remarkably close to her villainous laugh and stalked over to join a different table.
Una rolled her eyes at Snow’s back and sat down next to Peter, whose attention was fixed on the front of the room, where Professor Thornhill had written
motive
on the blackboard.
“Every Villain has a motive,” she was saying. “Often a Villain is purely evil, but he or she has to want something. Let’s imagine we are evil Villains, intent on squashing anyone who gets in our way. What are some motives?”
There was a slight pause, and then someone said, “Wealth.”
Una expended a great deal of effort trying to copy the words onto her slate. Slates were required for all her character classes, and writing on them was a lot harder than Una had once imagined. Her childish letters looked like something a first grader would write. She saw Peter’s neat lettering on his slate and moved her hand to cover her own scrawl.
“What else?” Thornhill asked.
“Power” came from another corner of the room. Students were answering quickly now: “Revenge.” “Youth.” “Beauty.”
“Knowledge,” said a boy wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Una thought he was the same boy she had seen the night before in the Woodland Room.
Professor Thornhill paused at that. “Why knowledge, Mr. Truepenny?”
“Because knowledge is power,” he said. His dark hair fell over one eye. “An evil Villain controls knowledge, both what is spread about and what is withheld. That is how he can gain power.”
“Very good, Mr. Truepenny,” the professor said quietly. She was looking at Una now. “Truth is one of the most powerful weapons against evil. And wisdom, which enables us to discern how to apply the truth. Without truth and wisdom, how would we be able to tell the difference between the evil and the good?”