Wolves and fairies pounced on the angry horde around her, but this time rainbows and water couldn’t stop them.
“The School Master’s on their side!” Hester screamed.
“We don’t even have a chance!” howled Hort.
The Nevers fought past fairies and wolves, and charged the Evers’ pews—
“It’s because you’re idiotic apes!”
The villains looked up dumbly.
“Now sit down before I give all of you a slap!” shrieked Pollux.
They sat without argument. (Except Anadil’s rats, who peeked from her pocket and hissed.)
Pollux scowled down at the villains. “Maybe if you stopped complaining, you’d produce someone of consequence! But all we hear is excuse after excuse. Have you produced one decent villain since the Great War? One villain capable of defeating their Nemesis? No wonder Readers come here confused! No wonder they want to be Good!”
Sophie saw kids on both sides of the aisle sneak her sympathetic glances.
“Students, all of you have only one concern here,” Pollux said, softening. “Do the best work you can. The finest of you will become princes and warlocks, knights and witches, queens and sorcerers—”
“OR A TROLL OR PIG IF YOU STINK!” Castor spat.
Students glanced at each other across the aisle, sensing the high stakes.
“So if there are no further interruptions,” Pollux said, glowering at his brother, “let’s review the rules.”
“Rule thirteen. Halfway Bridge and tower roofs are forbidden to students,” Pollux lectured onstage. “The gargoyles have orders to kill intruders on sight and have yet to grasp the difference between students and intruders—”
Sophie found all of this dull, so she tuned out and stared at Tedros instead. She had never seen a boy so clean. Boys in Gavaldon smelled like hogs and slopped around with chapped lips, yellow teeth, and black nails. But Tedros had heavenly tan skin, dabbed with light stubble, and no hint (no chance!) of a blemish. Even after the vigorous swordfight, every last gold hair fell in place. When he licked his lips, white teeth gleamed through in perfect rows. Sophie watched a trickle of sweat crisscross his neck and vanish beneath his shirt. What does he smell like? She closed her eyes. Like fresh wood and—
She opened her eyes and saw Beatrix subtly sniffing Tedros’ hair.
This girl needed to be dealt with immediately.
A headless bird landed in Sophie’s dress. She jumped on her seat, screaming and shaking her tunic until the dead canary plopped to the floor. She recognized the bird with a frown—then noticed the entire hall gaping at her. She gave her best princess curtsy and sat back down.
“As I was saying,” Pollux said testily.
Sophie whipped to Agatha. “What!” she mouthed.
“We need to meet,” Agatha mouthed back.
“My clothes,” Sophie mouthed, and turned back to the stage.
Hester and Anadil looked at the decapitated bird, then at Agatha.
“Her we like,” Anadil quipped, rats squeaking in agreement.
“Your first year will consist of required courses to prepare you for three major tests: the Trial by Tale, the Circus of Talents, and the Snow Ball,” Castor growled. “After the first year, you will be divided into three tracks: one for villain and hero Leaders, one for henchmen and helper Followers, and one for Mogrifs, or those that will undergo transformation.”
“For the next two years, Leaders will train to fight their future Nemeses,” Pollux said. “Followers will develop skills to defend their future Leaders. Mogrifs will learn to adapt to their new forms and survive in the treacherous Woods. Finally, after the third year, Leaders will be paired with Followers and Mogrifs and you will all move into the Endless Woods to begin your journeys . . .”
Sophie tried to pay attention but couldn’t with Beatrix practically in Tedros’ lap. Fuming, Sophie picked at the glittering silver swan crest stitched on her smelly smock. It was the only tolerable thing about it.
“Now as to how we determine your future tracks, we do not give ‘marks’ here at the School for Good and Evil,” said Pollux. “Instead, for every test or challenge, you will be ranked within your classes so you know exactly where you stand. There are 120 students in each school and we have divided you into six groups of 20 for your classes. After each challenge, you will be ranked from 1 to 20. If you are ranked in the top five in your group consistently, you will end up on the Leader track. If you score in the midrange repeatedly, you’ll end up a Follower. And if you’re consistently below a 13, then your talents will be best served as a Mogrif, either animal or plant.”
Students on both aisles murmured, already placing bets on who would end up a tumbo tree.
“I must add that anyone who receives three 20s in a row will immediately be failed,” said Pollux gravely. “As I said, given the exceptional incompetence required to earn three straight last-place ranks, I am confident this rule will not apply to any of you.”
The Nevers in her row threw Sophie a look.
“When they put me where I belong, you’ll all feel foolish, won’t you?” Sophie shot back.
“Your swan crest will be visible on your heart at all times,” Pollux continued. “Any attempt to conceal or remove it will likely result in injury or embarrassment, so please refrain.”
Confused, Sophie watched students on both sides trying to cover the glittering silver swans on their uniforms. Mimicking them, she folded the droopy collar of her tunic to obscure her own swan—instantly the crest vanished off the robe and appeared on her chest. Stunned, she ran her finger over the swan, but it was embedded in her skin like a tattoo. She released the fold and the swan vanished off her skin and reappeared on the robe. Sophie frowned. Perhaps not so tolerable after all.
“Furthermore, as the Theater of Tales is in Good this year, Nevers will be escorted here for all joint school functions,” said Pollux. “Otherwise, you must remain in your schools at all times.”
“Why is the Theater in Good?” Dot hollered through a mouthful of fudge.
Pollux raised his nose. “Whoever wins the Circus of Talents gets the Theater in their school.”
“And Good hasn’t lost a Circus or Trial by Tale or, now that I think about it, any competition at this school for the last two hundred years,” Castor harrumphed. Villains started rumbling again.