Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I am twelve when I get my invitation to the School for Good.

Mother Gothel is disappointed, of course. She always hoped that I would go to the School for Evil, like she did or at least stay at home forever and help her in her garden.

“I’ll be all right.” I try to give her an encouraging smile as she helps me pack my things into large trunks.

“You ought to be telling yourself that, girl.” She has her back to me now, folding up my second dress and putting it into the trunk with her bags of vegetables. “The School for Good?” She shakes her head. “They’ll rip you apart there, mark my words.”

I wish she had a touch more faith in me. I did get the letter after all. "Princess Rapunzel of Corona" like it said at the top in fancy script. The Schoolmaster must believe that I have some kind of potential. Maybe I could become a princess and give Mother Gothel everything she’s ever wanted. She could have a huge garden and dozens of servants. She'd never have to wish for anything again.

“Like you could ever be a princess.” She cackles savagely, like she can hear my thoughts. “You know what the girls like you become? Mogrifs. Plants who sacrifice themselves for a pretty princess in a forest. They’ll make you into a nice flower. A rapunzel maybe.” She laughs again, like she can’t think of anything more amusing.

I flinch and look down.

“Ah come now.” She turns around and kneels down to put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be a very pretty one. I’ll plant you in my garden.”

I let out a soft laugh and lean into her touch. “Thank you, Mother.”

“The shuttle will come in a few hours, my dear. Would you like to help me in the garden?”

“I would, Mother. Very much.”

I am quiet as we walk towards the flowerbeds and sit next to them, picking at almost invisible weeds. Dirt covers my hands and spills onto my dress but I don’t care. There’s a kind of beauty to it. Mother hums as we work and I allow myself to get temporarily lost in the silence. I don’t want to think of the weight of anxiety steadily growing in my chest.

A loud train whistle interrupts Mother’s off-key humming. I look up.

“Passage to the School for Good!” A conductor steps down from the train, a golden pocketwatch chain hanging from the pocket of a black tuxedo. “I am here to pick up a Rapunzel Gothel of Corona.” He looks me up and down, taking in my tangled blond hair and the dirt stains on my satin pink dress. “I’m assuming that is you?”

My chin moves up and down against my will. I stare up at the train as Mother’s footsteps come closer and closer. Fear flashes in the conductors face when she finally appears from the shadows. “No Nevers allowed, ma’am.”

She scoffs. “Please, like I want to go on your ridiculous Princess train. I’m just sending my daughter off.”

“Your…” His words die before they reach his mouth and he stares at me again, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Daughter, yes.” She laughs and pushes my bags into my chest. “Goodbye, my dear.” She reaches out to cup my cheek. Her hand is cool and the skin dry. It feels like home. “I will see you in three years, if you still want to come home.”

“Of course I will,” I assure her. Like I'd ever want to be anywhere else. “I’ll see you in three years, I love you Mother.”

She looks at me as the conductor helps me load my things onto the train car. I take my seat and stare at the window as the train moves away. I wave at her until she is completely out of sight. After that, I take a deep breath and try to remain calm.

“Your mother is a Never?” I jump at the voice and look over at the girl sitting next to me. She must have been the one who spoke.
She seems to be my age, quite small with small hazel eyes that stare up at me curiously. Her short black hair is cut into a wavy bob and her brown leathers hang loose on her shoulders.

I blink at her. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Is your Mother a Never? I heard her talking to the train conductor and he seems downright terrified of her.”

“She graduated from the School for Evil, if that’s what you mean. A leader.”

“Wow, you must be relieved to get away from her. You won’t ever have to go back there.” She leans back as if as if her words don’t immediately put me on edge. Is this how it will be at the School for Good?

“Who do you think you are?” I ask, my words taking on a sharp edge. “She’s my mother.”

She looks at me in surprise. “Still though, she’s Evil.”

“She raised me,” I say. “She loves me.”

“Nevers can’t feel love,” she singsongs. I am beginning to not like her very much.

“Mother Gothel does.”

“Whatever. Maybe your mom is different, I don’t know. I’m Cassandra by the way, what’s your name?”

I stare at her, surprised that she backed down so early. “Rapunzel.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Like the plant?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s lame. I’m going to call you Rapps. Is that okay?”

“I guess so, sure.” I play with my hands and stare out the window, trying to ignore the weight that appeared in my chest the second my letter arrived and has been growing with every foot in between me and home.

Chapter Text

The School for Good is made out of candy.

I take a deep breath and the sugary sweetness stings my nose. Stained windows of rock candy, walls of cake and frosting, beautiful ceilings of cotton candy, floors with tile designs of skittles and starbursts. Mother never let me have sweets. She always brought them home and wagged them in front of my face, saying that the sugar would damage my teeth, my figure. I always listened to her, but now my mouth waters at the thought of all the sweet things just in my reach.

I look up when I feel a sharp tap on my shoulder. There is a tiny figure flitting around my head. I laugh and hold my finger out.

“What are you-ouch!” A jolt of pain shoots through my hand. A few dots of ruby red blood linger on the tip of my pointer finger.

It flits around my head again. I let out a grunt of annoyance and wipe the blood off on my skirt.

“I think it wants your bag,” Cassandra says.

The fairy that was next to her is now flying away, carrying a purse that looks disproportionately huge in its tiny arms.

I take the bag that was around my shoulders and offer it to the fairy still flying around my head. My shoulders sag with relief at its absence but my heart aches when the fairy takes it and flies through the halls until it is out of sight.

Cassandra takes in my pained expression. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it again,” she assures me. “My dad says that our belongings get taken to our rooms so they can be there waiting for us after the introduction meeting.”

“Who is your dad anyway?” I ask, bringing my still-throbbing finger to my mouth.

“He’s the head of the guard at Corona. He went to the School for Good too.”

“Is that kind of stuff genetic? Like, if the people who gave birth to you are Good, are you Good too?” I always wondered.

“Mostly, yeah. But not every Good person gets a spot. At least one child from a royal family has to go and graduate with at least Follower marks and a partner. That way the Kings and Queens can be trained correctly. But most Evers mostly end up having Ever kids too. Same with Nevers. That’s why it’s weird that your mom is a Never but you’re in the School for Good.”

“I’m adopted. Maybe my genetic parents were Good.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a nature versus nurture kind of thing. Why didn’t your mom try to research it? Isn’t that what Evil people do?” Dangerous experiments for the sake of curiosity.

I choose my words carefully before answering. “My mom doesn't. She always wanted me to go to the School for Evil. I think that’s why she adopted me in the first place, but she always told me she never thought I was Evil enough. She never really thought I would be Good enough either.”

Cassandra doesn’t say anything.

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” I start saying. “She just wanted me to stay home with her. Any mother would want that.”

“I didn’t say anything, Rapps.” Cassandra says neutrally. The silence that follows makes me relieved when we finally arrive in the grand hall.

Adults who must be teachers wander through the shining candy halls in high-necked uniforms that make my skin itch. They glance at us and give small, encouraging smiles. The walls each have a different letter. I spin slowly in a circle with the rest of the girls, taking in the sparkling walls and the letters that spell out one word, over and over again. “E-V-E-R”. Spiral staircases go in endless circles up the corners of the perfectly square room. I look at the sparkling walls and floors in bewilderment. How could anything be so beautiful?

A fairy flits around my head again and I brace myself for more pain and blood. Instead, it drops a piece of paper and a dress into my arms and then flies away. I sling the dress over my shoulder and look at the paper first.

Rapunzel of Corona

GOOD 1st year

Purity Tower 15

1. Animal Communication

2. Princess Etiquette

3. History of Heroism

4. Beautification

5. Lunch (mixed with the School for Evil)

6. Surviving Fairy Tales (Forest Group #2)

7. Good Deeds

I fold up the paper into a little square and put it into the pocket of my dress.

“What Tower are you in?” Cassandra asks me, looking up from her own paper.

I wordlessly take the paper out again, unfold it, and hand it to her. She starts comparing it with her own.

“Awh, I’ve got Purity Tower 20. Looks like we’re in the same Forest Group though! And most of the same classes.” Cassandra hands me back my schedule and chatters excitedly as we are lead up the Purity staircase. About 50 other girls chatter and giggle with one another in the same awed hushed tones. Some of them have black hair, some brown, some a brilliant orange. Others have pale skin, some dark, some tan. All of them look different, but they all have the same beautiful faces, the same pure smiles.

'How could you think that you would fit in with these people?' Mothers voice echos in my head. 'Please, you’d never be Good enough. It’s not long before they realize it and send you back home to me. That's what you want anyway, right?'

The blond nymph leading us stops and turns around when she reaches the begining of a long hallway of identical doors, all of them numbered 1-25 “Here are your Towers. You will each room with one other princess. I expect you all to be on your best behavior before the welcoming ceremony tonight and classes tomorrow.” She smiles wide at all of us and then walks out of the room, leaving us to find our dorm number and have a moment to ourselves.

The doors are numbered in a linear order, with 1 on the door closest to the staircase and 25 the farthest away. I quickly find tower 15 and take a deep breath before opening the door.

I’m once more speechless with awe. The walls are a clean creme and eight walls form an even octogon shape. Two large and identical four-poster beds with pastel purple sheets and creme comforters sit on opposite sides of the room. Fairies hang up a gold banner in the center of the room with letters the same creme as the walls: “WELCOME RAPUNZEL AND MARY!”. When they see me, I brace myself but they just whisper to one another and then fly quickly out of the room.

“Thank you!” I call out after them.

I start walking around the room, the hardwood floors echoing under my pink slippers.

I take a deep breath again and smell something floral. It takes me a moment to find the source: A candle burning on one of the giant wardrobes. The corners of my mouth turn up.

I inspect every inch of the room, looking at myself through the bejewled mirrors and running my hand along the pastel purple walls and over the soft carpet in the center of the room. Pulling back the curtains of a bed leads me to find my bag on top of the sheets, just where Cassandra said it would be. I open my bag and leaf through it, pulling out my hairbrush and the pink dress that the fairies gave me, turning toward the door right next to the bed, assuming that it is the bathroom.

Wrong. The door opens to clean and empty shelves with matching hangers. A walk-in closet. As if Princesses needed any more space to store their clothes. The wood of the shelves feels smooth as I run my fingers over it. A door in-between the shelves opens to the biggest, fanciest bathroom I’ve ever seen.

It’s about ten steps across and five steps from the door to the wall. It seems like pure white and gold marble with one sink with a golden faucet beneath a mirror that takes up a whole wall. a jewel incrusted toilet (I amuse myself imagining Mother Gothel laughing her head off at that.) sits in the corner next to the sink and a giant bathtub sits in the opposite corner. I glance in the mirror to take in my terrified and awed expression, a splotch of dirt on my nose and tangled blond hair framing my face. I move to the sink and wash the dirt off, feeling like I’m taking a little piece of home off with it.

I carefully take off the dress that Mother Gothel made me and put on the school uniform. It’s a light pink silk, fancier than anything that I’ve ever worn. The cut compliments parts of my figure that make me blush, but it is mostly modest and comfortable. I look in the mirror again to find the next area of work: my waist length blond hair.

I spend about an hour working through it with a brush before finally looking in the mirror and deeming it acceptable. I take another deep breath, absorbing the smell of a place that is not home, and step out of the bathroom.

“Oh my God! Are you my roommate?”

Chapter Text

“Oh my God! Are you my roommate?”

I look closely at the girl sitting on the only other bed in the room, looking at me like I’m dirt beneath her shoe.

She’s already in her uniform. Impossibly clear caramel skin with deep brown eyes and hair that falls into thin braids down her back. Gold beads and strands of thread decorate them and make her chocolatey brown skin glow from their shine.

My own skin feels blotchy and pale in comparison and my cheeks heat up slightly in shame.

She stands up and her back is impossibly straight, her shoulders brushed proudly behind her. I feel my own spine involuntarily straighten.

I take a deep breath, inhaling a scent that is not home and smile widely at her. “I’m Rapunzel. What’s your name?”

Her eyes widen with understanding and astonishment. “Rapunzel. You’re that girl everyone was talking about! The Ever that was literally raised by Nevers.”

“That’s me,” I say. “But it was just one Never. And the Storian has never written about her. She’s never had a Nemesis or anything.” So she’s not really a part of this war. Not the one you want me to be a part of anyway.

“Interesting.” She says, staring at me with disgust still evident on her face.

I rub my nose. Is there still dirt on it? Is that why she’s judging me so much? Or is it because I’m beneath her in some way, in this made up hierarchy I never got to learn about. “What’s your name, then?”

“Mary, Princess of Javanlee.” She looks down her nose at me. “I’m surprised you managed to get a spot at the School for Good, it’s very selective you know. I didn’t realize someone with your…background qualified.” She sneers at me and I almost shrink despite myself. “I guess they need some girls here to fill up the mogrif spots.”

“Right.” Not really having a response to that, I look down at my feet, giving a small sigh. Mother’s words echo in my mind.

‘You, a princess? Please, they’ll make you a plant if you’re lucky. A pretty sprig of Rapunzel. I’ll plant you in my garden.’

I don’t want to be a sprig of Rapunzel. I don’t want to be an animal or a plant lucky to sacrifice herself for some future princess.

“Just stay out of my way.” She stands up and heads over to the bathroom, her braids whacking me in the face as she leaves. “This school is my future, I can’t have you damaging my reputation.”

We both stop immediately as a projected voice echos around the room. “Students,” I cover my ears hesitantly but it’s almost like it’s inside of my head. Or some kind of projection. “Welcome to the School for Good. We are so happy to have all of you here to train in the most prestigious fairy tale academy in all the kingdoms. Graduates from here have gone on to do great things and we have complete faith that you will do well by Good as well.” The voice lets out a laugh. “But I’m rambling. We invite all of you to the Dining Hall for a spot of dinner before the School for Evil meets us in the auditorium. It will start in fifteen minutes and attendance is mandatory so you may meet one another make a first impression on all of your classmates and teachers.”

My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since breakfast hours ago and self control was the only thing that got me through those halls of candy.

Mary lets out a little shriek, still right next to the bathroom. “Fifteen minutes!?”

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

“I can’t be ready in- you have to help me!”

I look at her in confusion. “I thought you wanted me to stay out of your way.”

“Yes-but-. Arrgh!” She stomps her foot like a pampered little princess who isn’t getting her way. “This is important! Some of us actually have lives at stake here. I have to make a good impression on the teachers and the other students. I’m my parent’s only chance. The future of my kingdom depends on me becoming a Leader with a good partner to become King. You’ll be lucky to be a follower anyway, so maybe you can practice by setting up all my makeup? It’ll save me some time.”

My heart beats in sympathy for her. “Fine.” I want to help, even if she’s a bit mean and doesn’t deserve it. She’s probably just nervous.

‘Come on, Rapunzel.’ Says Mother Gothel in my head. ‘Don’t be a pushover. Those are the kinds of acts that got you into this school in the first place. You should be on the other side of the bridge.’

Mary’s heel clack on the hardwood floor and I wonder how she can even stand them. My feet ache enough from the sandals Mother makes me wear outside. Maybe it’s another thing Evers are supposed to learn before they come here. My list of things to catch up on keeps getting longer and longer.

She opens the trunk on her bed, removes a smaller bag from inside of it and forces it into my arms. I unzip it and take a peek. Full of different tiny bottles and trays of powders and brushes.

“Careful! Some of that stuff took ages to make. I can’t have some Never messing it up.”

I roll my eyes but don’t respond, setting it carefully onto the floor and sitting next to it, my skirt spread out around my legs. “What do you need me to do?”

She stops her frantic unzipping and rezipping to look at me with a combination of regret and annoyance. “Well, I’d say to take out the eyeshadow, lipstick, blush, and primer but your mother never taught you anything.”

“She taught me more important things,” I retort, because I don’t know what any of those words mean.

“Like what? How to brew poisons and kill princesses?” She glares at me. “Can you just take out the blue glass bottle, the gold powder tray, a small brush, a big brush, and that big powder tray with all the different colors on it?”

She’s moving again before I even have time to process her instructions or defend the woman who raised me. I try to remove the correct items from the bag while she takes out hair clips, jewelry, and an extra pair of shoes from her trunk. She snatches up the items in front of me with a quiet word of thanks and then runs to the bathroom. A silence follows.

I stand up, brush the dust off of my dress, and look at myself in the mirror.

Someone pitifully plain stares back at me, straight hair falling in long curtains around her face. Light green eyes surrounded by long lashes like spider’s legs. Low cheekbones with a touch of pink on the cheeks that match her pink lips and contrasts with the splotchy paleness of her skin.

The dress that highlights her curves falls right down to her knees. It somehow fits her figure perfectly yet doesn’t look right on her at all.

Dirt cakes her long fingernails, unpainted and unkempt.

I don’t like thinking about my appearance, but for the princesses in the fairy tales, it seems like all that matters.

Should I be acting like Mary right now? Freaking out about my first impression, stressing about jewelry and makeup and shoes? Knowing how to do all these things? Was this a thing that my mother was supposed to teach me?

Mary remerges from the bathroom and I leap away from the mirror in a panic and look back at her. Fresh makeup makes her look even more beautiful (if it were possible) and delicate gold jewelry highlights her natural glow and the bands in her hair. I feel myself shrinking in comparison.

She looks me up and down. “I see you haven’t been doing much. Didn’t your Mother train you for the most important moment of your life?”

Is that supposed to be sarcasm? And exaggeration? I look down in shame.

'Well, sorry I didn’t teach you these things Rapunzel.' Mother's voice says. 'I didn’t realize you would turn out to be a disappointment.'

Mary’s gaze softens slightly and she sighs a bit to herself, glancing at the clock in the corner.

“I suppose I have time to do a little something. Come here.” She takes her makeup bag from right next to me and starts taking out little bottles and brushes. “Close your eyes.” I do so and she smudges a little of this on my cheek, a little of that on my eyelids, a light brush on my lips. In a few minutes I can hear her stand up again and I blink my eyes open once more. “There, not my best work but at least you look a bit better.”

I look back at the mirror and a slightly less plain girl looks back at me. “Thank you,” I say sincerely.

“No problem, it makes me look better if it seems like I tried to fix you a little bit, everyone knows that you were raised by Nevers. They probably expect me to at least try something.”

I take another deep breath to calm myself because it’s true enough and I really can’t be too angry. She just wants to make a good first impression on everyone else. They could determine her future. Some people actually have a chance to become something at this school. Not everyone’s fate has already been determined.

I obviously do a good job of hiding my slight annoyance because she doesn’t pick up on it. She looks at herself once more in the mirror and steps out. I take a deep breath, inhaling a sent that smells nothing like home, and follow her.

Chapter Text

“Stop gaping like that, you look like a peasant,” Mary whispers imperceptibly in my ear before strutting in her heels to speak to some other Evers.

Well, there goes one of my only allies. If you could even call her that.

I stand at the door, playing with my calloused hands while I try and take in the scene.

It seems like one of those rich adult parties in the books, how I always imagined them anyway. Totally overrated. The quiet conversation and polite smiles. The other kids here speak to one another formally, their heads held up high like queens and nodding politely as if they're already negotiating trade deals and alliances.

It’s like they’ve been doing things like this their whole lives.

Fairies fly around the room, working together to fly plates over to the Evers. Some smile and take some of whatever is being offered to them with a word of thanks. Others smile and shake their heads, uttering the same word.

I take a peek at whatever is on the plates. They’re small and intricate and fancy and I know whatever they are, they won’t taste like home. I take one anyway, hoping it will help me blend in more.

“Rapunzel!”

I look up at Cassandra running towards me in a new pink uniform, an insane grin on her face. The Evers pause their conversation to frown at her. Well, we’ve definitely been noticed now.

“How’s your room? Mine is red. It’s so pretty. You have got to meet my roommate. She’s a Reader. She’s so nice. Where did she go?” Cassandra says all of this very loud and very fast and then looks around, probably looking for her roommate.

“Right here.” A girl emerges from the shadows, brown hair falling in loose curls around her face. She gives a shy little wave. “I’m Belle.”

“Rapunzel.” I give Belle a mock little curtsey.

Mother always used to scoff at Readers, saying that they didn’t have what it took for the Fairy Tale world and the Storian would never notice them. I’ve never met one in person, but Belle seems really nice. Unlike the Everborns I’ve met recently, she doesn’t scoff try to make me feel bad for my Mother being a Never. She doesn’t walk with her head held high like she knows something I don’t. She even looks around the School for Good with a wonder and ignorance that I feel myself. It doesn’t make me feel so far behind, or like I don’t fit in.

During our conversation, I learn that Belle came from a town called Gavalon in the Reader world.

“It’s so dull,” she tells me. “Everyone knows everyone else. Just the same things happen every single day, no magic or wonder. During my whole childhood I would read my storybooks and dream that the Schoolmaster would come to take me away. Now…” Her voice drifts off as she looks around the room again, a slight frown on her face.

Her thoughts echo in my own mind and we fall into a short silence, broken almost immediately by Cassandra..

"There’s a Prince looking at you.”

Looking at me? I glance around for this tell-tale Prince. All I can see is what I saw before. Everboys and Evergirls in their pastel uniforms, chatting formally with one another. None of them are looking at me anymore, and the ones that are quickly look away when they see me, muttering to one another in fear.

I give a little sigh of frustration at that. It’s not like I’m going to curse them or anything.

I’m not my mother.

“What? Are you blind?” She grabs my shoulders and turns me a full 180 degrees. “There!”

Now I see it, a boy surrounded by about half a dozen girls, all flirting shamelessly, swaying their hips and giggling at him. I spot Mary among them, a little bit more subdued. He returns all of their grins and tries to speak to all of them at once.

From what I can see, he’s quite muscular. A golden crown sits lopsided on top of his wavy brown hair as if it’s an afterthought, put on almost halfway out the door. His lips curl up in a grin at the girls around him.

Despite all the attention he’s receiving, he somehow senses my stare and meets my eyes with a look of wondering curiosity. I blush at the intensity of his stare and look down.

A boy has never looked at me like that before. Mother was always so careful about who I spoke to. She always made me stay close to her in town. I can’t remember ever even meeting a boy my age.

“Eugene Fitzherbert, crown Prince of Corona,” says Cassandra with obvious distain.

I realize that I’m staring and look back at her.

“You two have a history?” Belle asks, looking at Cassandra curiously.

“He’s so arrogant!” Cassandra exclaims immediately, like shes been wanting to say it for years. “Always trying to get involved in everything, trying to train with the soldiers when he doesn’t even have to. And my dad’s always giving him special attention because ‘he’s the crown prince’.” She scoffs and shakes her head in his direction. “Always getting everything handed to him. He wouldn’t even be here if he weren’t guaranteed a spot.”

I have to give a little chuckle at their obvious rivalry.

“Don’t go laughing at me! He’s bad news. Don’t even look in his direction.”

I try not to but I can’t really help myself. Something about him is just so mesmerizing, it keeps pulling my eyes back like I'm a compass pointing north. To my surprise, despite all the girls surrounding him, he’s still staring at me, biting his bottom lip as though mesmerized himself. When he sees me looking, he shoots me a grin and then looks away.

“What did I just say, Raps?”

“Sorry.” I try to pay more attention to the conversation.

“You’re still looking at him.” She shakes her head at me in frustration.

Belle gives a little sigh in my direction. “You like him, don’t you?”

“I don’t!” Seriously?

Mother’s voice echos in my head. ‘Come on, Rapunzel!' she rebukes me. 'Two hours in the School for Good and you already think you’ve found the love of your life? See, this is why I never let you meet people.’

“I’ve never even spoken to him, how could I possibly like him?” These words are directed at Belle, but I’m mostly trying to silence the voice of the woman living in my head as though her home is this unfamiliar territory so unlike the cottage we share.

“Well, why don’t you go talk to him then?” Cassandra asks, crossing her arms and looking at me as though I’ve disappointed her. “Then you’ll realize what an arrogant twat he is.”

“Maybe I will,” I say.

“Go then.”

“Fine.” I cross my arms and turn away from the girls who have become something like friends, holding my head up with the illusion of confidence as I walk towards Prince Eugene Fitzherbert of Corona.

Chapter Text

I realize a split second after I turn around: There is absolutely no way that I, Rapunzel Gothel, have the confidence to walk up to the crown prince of Corona.

I glance back at Cassandra and Belle. Their shock has worn off slightly and now Cassandra is just staring at me, shocked. Belle grins and holds her hands out in two thumbs up.

I can’t go back to them now. That would be humiliating too.

My head turns from Cassandra to Eugene. Which would be worse for me? Chickening out in front of my potiental friends or a few moments of embarrassment?

I make my way to the gaggle of girls. How am I supposed to insert myself in their giggling and flirting without making it seem too awkward? Maybe if I just say hello and listen for a few moments that’ll be enough for Cassandra and Belle.

I dodge the crowds of chattering Evers, moving through them like they’re the trees around Mother's cottage at home. A few seconds later, I look back. I can’t see Cassandra or Belle which means that they can’t see me either.

I sigh with relief before slipping out the door into the candied halls.

I put my back against the blank wall, sliding down until I am sitting on the floor, curling up into a small, unnoticeable ball.

I relish at the slightly muted chatter, taking deep breaths and inhaling the sweet scent of candy and flowers. It still smells nothing like home, but at least it smells a little bit better than the fake perfume scents of the party.

Eventually I’m going to have to go back in there. There’s a chance that Cassandra and Belle will believe I spoke to Eugene for just a moment and then left to use the bathroom. He’s not completely in their frame of reference anyway and maybe they’ll forget about all of it in a few minutes.

That leaves me a little bit of time.

I take a deep breath in, a deep breath out.

Small and quickly stifled shrieks of laughter meet my ears, mutters and light violin music echo through the wide hall. Don’t listen to all of that, Rapunzel. Just calm down and smile.

“Oh, you don’t want to talk to Rapunzel! She was literally raised by a Never. She’s my roomate. You can trust me when I say she’s a weirdo. Her invite was probably a mistake.”

I peek through the doorway. Eugene’s crowd has moved closer to the door and some of the princesses are looking at Mary with sympathy. I have the urge to do the same. I mean, isn’t it so unlucky she would have the misfortune of being roomed with me?

They are so busy with their words of comfort and encouragement that most of them don’t even notice Eugene moving further away from them and closer to me.

I quickly look forward so he can’t tell I saw him and make myself seem invisible. With luck, he doesn’t even know I’m here. With luck, he’s heading to the bathroom right now. He just so happened to use the same doorway I’m right next to.

“What are you doing out here?”

No such luck.

I look up and see the Prince leaning on the doorway, staring at me curiously.

He’s really quite handsome, with high cheekbones and brown hair in waves with soft doe brown eyes. That, combined with being a crown prince? No wonder all the girls were ogoling him at the party.

My mouth is hanging open, isn’t it? I quickly shut it and my face hardens, making my features impossible to read.

“Oh, I just needed some air.”

“Yeah.” He glances behind him at the girls inside.

‘They’re laughing at you, Rapunzel. That’s what I’ve been saying about these royals. You can’t trust them. The only people that they care about is themselves.’

“I could use some air too.” Eugene sits down next to me, his back against the wall and his legs sticking out in front of him. His mother obviously didn’t teach him the art of taking up as little space as possible. Just the way he holds himself tells me he always had a surplus of attention.

‘Why did you even get on the train? You should just come home to me. Nobody will even notice you if you’re gone. I mean what friends have you really made here?’

“Not now,” I say to Mother under my breath. "Not in front of him."

“Sorry?” Eugene looks at me with confusion.

“No, not you.” I rub my eyes roughly and my fingers leave with streaks of purple, gold, and brown, the same colors I remember Mary putting on my face. So it's not permanent then. It comes off quickly “I was talking to someone else." I realize after a moment that may cause more questions than answers. "Myself. I was talking to myself.”

“What’s your name?” he asks me conversationally as if he doesn’t already know.

“I’m Rapunzel,” I say. Then, because Mother always told me that if I dig my own grave, I must at least do the thing properly: “What’s your name?”

“Oh…” He hesitates for a moment. “Call me Flynn, Flynn Rider.”

Chapter Text

And it’s like when Mother had just dropped me off to my first day of kindergarten.

‘Have a good day, darling,’ she had said, kissing me on both cheeks and leaving me at the door.

I was so excited, I walked in with my heavy satchel hanging from both shoulders and a huge grin on my face.

There were already kids playing outside, laughing and screaming. They had known each other their whole lives. Mother and I had always lived in our own world; I didn’t really see at the time how that could make things different.

I set my bag down on the front stairs and ran over to the other kids my age.

“Hi!” I gave them each a big hug. They went stiff as I squeezed them tighter. “I’m Rapunzel! What’s your name?”

After I let go, they stared at me for a moment.

“You’re Rapunzel? That Never’s kid?”

“Yep!” I said, completely oblivious to the looks that they shared and the snorts from my classmates. “What are your names?”

“Oh, if you’re Rapunzel, you can call me Squash.” Cue more laughter. I looked at them curiously but assumed that they were just being friendly.

“Okay Squash. Can I play with you?”

“Oh sure, let’s play hide and seek!”

“I’ve never played that before, what is it?”

“Well,” she started explaining the rules to me. One person was given a minute to hide somewhere and everyone else had to find them. “Why don’t you hide first?”

“Sure!” I said, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Friends. Real friends that I would get to play with. All my dreams were coming true.

They counted to sixty and I found the perfect spot behind a tree. I knelt down in the dirt and made myself as small as possible.

“Ready or not, here we come!”

I held my breath and practiced my numbers while I waited.

By the time I had gotten to one hundred twice, I knew that I had found a really good hiding spot.

When I got there five more times, I started to get worried. Was my spot so good that they had given up their search?

Two more counts to one hundred and I poked my head out to see who was looking for me.

The ground was deserted.

What could’ve happened? An apocalypse? Maybe a space invasion? I wandered toward the big brick schoolhouse.

On the steps, I picked up my bag. Most of its contents was spilled onto the floor and some of it was no where to be found. I picked up the things I could find and repacked it, slinging it over my shoulders once more.

I walked through the doors of the schoolhouse to hear the teacher calling my name.

“Rapunzel!”

The schoolhouse made my nose sting with the smell of hazel wood: subtly unwelcome and unforgiving.

I stepped out of the shadows and the teacher looked me up and down with a shocked expression, taking in my dirty dress and hair full of leaves and twigs.

“I’m here Miss,” I said because Mother always told me to offer adults proper titles and respect.

The class erupted into roars of laughter and jeers.

She knelt down, taking in my hair full of twigs and leaves, as well as my dress stained with mud. She offered me a small smile and marked something down on her clipboard. “Please try to wash before coming into school, Rapunzel and please be on time tomorrow.”

More laughter.

I nod. I guess my spot was so good they forgot about me.

“Why don’t you sit there next to Sorsha?”

I look over to where she is pointing.

“Do you mean Squash, Miss?”

Some of the kids were crying with hysteria by then, or shaking with silent laughter.

“Her name is Sorsha, dear and there is an open seat right next to her. I hope she will make you feel welcome.”

I walked over slowly and fell flat on my face over a leg stuck out under the table.

More laughter.

I got up quickly and didn’t even bother brushing myself off or checking myself for injuries before running and sitting down in the hard backed hazel wood chair.

My cheeks burned with humiliation. In that moment I learned how to be silent and invisible.

“Call me Flynn, Flynn Rider.”

“I will not!”

I stand up, crossing my arms and turning around, leaving him with a shocked and hurt expression on his face.

“Wait, don’t go! You’re right, I shouldn’t have told you that. It’s actually a funny story-”

But I don’t want to hear it. I start walking across the hallway, trying to get as far away from “Flynn Rider” and the party as possible.

‘See Rapunzel? They’re all the same. Every single one of them. Did you think you would fit in here? Did you think people would treat you better after finding out who your mother was? Who I was? Did you think you would be found?’

“Where are you going?” Eugene stands up and walks quickly, falling into step with my hard and forceful strides.

Literally anywhere but here. Anywhere where you can’t follow. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I can walk you there!”

I stop walking and turn to him, morphing my face into an expression of distain. “To the bathroom?”

He turns red, obviously realizing the insanity of his suggestion. “No not like that.” He recovers himself quickly and shoots me a charming smile. “If you wanted to, I mean-”

“I don’t.” I don’t really understand what he’s saying but refusal sounds like the best way to get him to leave me alone.

“Look, the Welcome Ceremony starts in fifteen minutes. I know the way. I can show you if you want.”

This guy is the crown prince of Corona. He has girls literally clamoring over him. Why is he even talking to me? I thought I had gotten so good at being invisible.

“I’ll find it myself, thanks.”

I find a random door and open it.

Quartz white sinks with golden knobs. Dark crystal stalls and colored tiles. The bathroom.

I let out a sigh of relief, walking over to the mirrors. In the past few hours, I’ve looked at myself in the mirror more times than I think I ever have in my life. But I understand now why Mother keeps so many in the cottage. They’re useful.

So that powder stuff on my fingers was my makeup. It now looks like a blotchy mess on my face. Just great. Mary could’ve told me that I wasn’t supposed to touch it.

It has to come off with water right? I turn the knobs and start to wash it off, the cool moisture feeling good on my skin.

“Are you hiding from the party too?”

So much for being invisible.

Chapter Text

I turn off the sink immediately and wipe the water off my face with my sleeve.

I look down and see that the baby pink satin is stained with purple and gold powder. Just great. Why would anybody use this stuff? It just goes everywhere.

I look in the mirror and the question of who spoke to me is immediately obvious. A boy standing just outside one of the stalls, staring at me curiously.

He has hair in a bright orange that looks almost unnatural. Freckles break up his pale skin and his cheeks don’t match at all with his broad shoulders and arms. When I squint, I see a huge pimple on the tip of his nose. Mother Gothel used to say that boiling water mixed with cucumber juice was good for those. I wonder if he knows.

Something about him doesn’t seem quite right. I have to think for a moment before I realize what it is.

“What are you doing in the girls bathroom?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He backs up for a moment and opens the door to one of the stalls: a toilet with a cubical opposite it. “This is the boy’s bathroom.”

I’m in the boy’s bathroom. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment and I move toward the door, stammering an apology.

“No, don’t go. I didn’t mean it like that. Nobody is in here anyway, no harm done really.” He chuckles nervously and looks all around the room as if looking for an escape route. Why is he being so jittery?

“What’s your name?” I ask him because I may as well try to make an awkward situation less awkward.

“Oh, it’s Pascal.”

“Pascal…” I mull over the name, enjoying the way the strange consenants feel on my tongue.

“I know," he says, misunderstanding the repetition. "It’s a Never name.”

I didn’t know that there was a difference between Never names and Ever names. Is Rapunzel a Never name? Is that why all the Good kids at my school used to make fun of it?

“I come from an Ever family but they raised me in an Evil town. They gave me a Never name because they wanted me to…fit in, I guess? It didn’t work though.”

‘These Evers. All they care about is fitting in. Why would you want to worry about that, Flower? Who needs to fit in when we have each other?’

I lean against the smooth cold sinks. “I’ve never been to a Never town, what’s that like?”

“Well, that depends. What’s it like being the same as everyone else?”

“I wouldn’t know.” I let out a small sigh. The bathroom smells like perfume, floral and sickly sweet. Nothing like how a bathroom should smell and definetly nothing like home. I’m tired of all these new smells, new tastes, new places.

“I’m just the opposite. My Mother is a Never but she raised me in a Never town.” I still don’t understand why. “I’m not Good enough for them and not Evil enough for her.”

“Well, you’re here. They’re not. I think you’re more Good than you think.”

“I guess so.” Why does the thought make my stomach twist itself into knots?

“I know so.”

A bell from outside clangs to get our attention. I cringe and cover my ears. What is it with this school and loud noises?

“What’s that bell for?” I look at Pascal, he stares back at me in confusion before comprehension fully dons on his face.

“It’s for the Introduction Ceremony!” He slaps his head with his own fist. Is self-harm supposed to be a Never thing or an Ever thing? “I was supposed to be there five minutes ago.”

I remember Eugene mentioning that: ‘I can walk you there if you want.’ I didn’t realize it was a real thing though. Why are we not being warned about these things in advance?

“Did it start five minutes ago?”

“No, but the Princes were supposed to prepare some kind of entrance? I don’t even understand it either but we were all going to leave the feast five minutes ago. And there are no clocks here so I lost track of time and-”

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Instinct urges me to comfort him, though my head urges me to get as far away from him as possible. “Where is it?”

“All the Princesses will be heading there now. We should probably just follow the crowd. It’ll be fine. They won’t miss someone like me anyway. I’m not Eugene or something.” He seems to be talking to himself now. He laughs at and runs his hands through his hair like he’s going a bit mad, still looking every which way. I open the door to the bathroom and look outside.

An overwhelming flood of people and chatter meet my ears and eyes.

I close the door immediately.

“Seems like everyone’s going somewhere,” I say conversationally, trying to get him out of his own head for a moment.

“Yeah.” He considers, running his hand through his hair once more. “Look, we should probably go with them. I’m not really sure of the way and I heard they’re giving out failing ranks to people who miss it.”

‘Typical Prince. All they want is for you to be a sheep. Follow the group. Follow orders. Have I truly raised you to be so compliant Rapunzel? Men are useless and Princes are even worse.’

I’m just trying to survive, Mother. I don’t want to be a plant you put into your garden and forget about.

“All right. Let’s go then.”

We open the door and join the flood of Evers moving like a herd through the halls.

Chapter Text

“So, how did it go?” Belle comes up behind me in the sea of satin pink and starts walking on my left.

“Hi!” Pascal greets her excitedly from my other side. She doesn’t acknowledge him.

“How did what go?” I look at her in confusion.

Cassandra pushes Pascal out of the way. (“Hey! What was that for?”) and falls into step on my other side. “Your talk with Eugene, of course.” She says his name with an overly pompous air.

Pascal grumbles to himself and starts walking on the other side of Belle who doesn’t shove him like Cassandra did.

I smile at him apologetically and he returns it, shaking his head and sighing.

“Well…” I try to come up with a good lie but am distracted for a moment by the carefully crafted stained glass windows on either side of the hallway. Each of them is in the same style and has a smiling Prince and Princess with extravagant gowns and castles behind them and I long to read the engraved plaques.

Mother wouldn’t let them anywhere near our house. ‘This is the problem with Good. They always waste time on unnecessary extravagance.’

She doesn’t even put up her Evil tapestries.

“It’s okay if you backed out,” Cassandra says. “He’s so rude, your little crush isn’t even worth talking to him anyway.”

“Yeah, I backed out.” It’s basically true anyway.

“Don’t worry Rapunzel,” Belle says, giving me a smile meant to be encouraging. “The School for Good has plenty of cute Princes. Surely someone else will catch your eye.”

“Someone we all approve of.” Cassandra adds.

I murmur an agreement.

When we finally enter the auditorium, my breath catches in my throat and I can temporarily forget the weight lodged in my stomach.

The walls are marble white with golden accents. Grand windows let in natural light from a forest with blue trees. A stage takes up a third of the room with around a hundred chairs facing it.

Students dressed in plain black already sit in the chairs on one half of the room. They hiss when we enter and a few stand up to jeer and boo.

A couple Evers boo right back and there is a moment of chaos among the students in pink as friends are found and seats are chosen.

When I take my seat in between Cassandra and Pascal, I allow myself to look at the shadow of Nevers.

Besides Mother Gothel, I’ve never really met anyone Evil before. They seem nice enough. A few remind me of her with their heavily lidded eyes and dark curls. They’re not ugly exactly, but they have this air of indifference that I’ve never seen in anybody before.

Definetly not these Evers with their ten step skin care routine and makeup covering their belmishes.

I offer a friendly wave. One smirks and waves back but the most that take notice just roll their eyes or glare at me.

The commotion from the evergirls dies down and everyone is in their seats for hardly a minute before the doors swing open again.

Princes with swords drawn fill the aisles, play fighting and laughing with one another.

Pascal leans further down in his seat. His face turns bright red.

The girls around me clap and swoon, a couple calling out to specific Princes or standing up to get themselves noticed.

The Nevers remain the same as they were before the fact, sitting in their seats and talking to one another like nothing is happening. I agree with them mostly. I don’t really understand what the fuss is about.

And then Eugene enters the fight.

He wields his sword gracefully, almost lazily. He disarms about three other Princes within the span of a few seconds and still manages to have the energy to offer smiles and winks to all the Princesses swooning in his direction. His hair remains in its perfect waves and his shoulders…

Oh, curse him. I feel my face heat up and I look down.

A rose falls at my feet. I pick it up.

The colors are brighter than the flowers me and Mother grow at home. The bud is a perfect scarlet in bright bloom and the stem feels holy and familiar in my hands, a steady texture that reminds me of the cottage and garden so far away.

I look up to see who threw it.

Flowers are flying all over the Ever section. The Princesses are fighting one another. The Princes watch with sheepish grins and the Nevers watch with smiles of amusement on their faces. I notice Belle smelling one appreciatively and Mary with at least five in her elegant fist.

Only one person isn’t moving: Eugene makes eye contact with me and offers me a smile.

His rose is missing. I realize that it is probably the one now clenched in my hand, the very first one thrown.

What is that even supposed to mean? Each Prince had only one rose in the beginning. Why would he waste his own on me?

The Princes find seats in between the Princesses. I thank the Storian that there isn’t a seat open next to me when I see Eugene scan my section.

Pascal moves so far down that I don’t know how he can see in front of himself. His face turns an even brighter red and he slaps his head with his fist.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you even have to talk to her?”

I try to ignore him and Cassandra reaches across me to force his fist down. “Oh, stop that, would you?” she hisses. “He’s not even worth it.”

“Order please!” A tall woman calls out from the stage. I recognize her voice from the announcements projected through the school, governing us through these past few hours. She has dark skin with blond hair tied in an elaborate bun. Her stunning dress and jewelry contrast severely with the plain black clothing of the woman next to her.

The everboys quickly take their seats and the only evidence of their “performance” is the flowers trampled on the floor and the Princesses nursing minor injuries.

“Welcome to the School for Good and Evil our new Nevers and Evers. I am Professor Clarissa Dovey, dean of the School for Good and your Good Deeds teacher. This is Lady Lesso, Dean to the School for Evil and teacher of Curses and Deathtraps. We know you are all anxious to get some rest before your first day, but we have a few things we must communicate so all our students understand our School’s expectations.”

Chapter Text

“You are all here because the Schoolmaster picked you to best represent your side in the war of Good and Evil.”

The soft velvet of my seat is scratchy and uncomfortable. The silk of my uniform makes me feel hidden and fake.

“We are here to train you as best we can for when the Storian writes your story. If you work hard, we will give you the skills necessary to survive in the Endless Woods.”

What if we can’t survive?

She doesn’t answer my silent inquiry. “Your classes start tomorrow. Due to the different natures of Good and Evil, classes are separated within the schools except for mealtimes and your Surviving Fairy Tale forest groups. We hope to nurture respect across our schools, even though there also must be rivalry. Evil cannot exist without Good and Good cannot exist without Evil.”

A few people scoff from around me and I shrink down further in my seat.

“We expect all of you to be civil to one another.”

A competitive glaring contest takes place. The Good students stare challengingly at the sea of black. The Nevers glare right back, muttering to one another like they’re planning pranks or crimes. I keep my eyes firmly peeled on Professor Dovey.

“Your classes will be different for the most part, but they will all run the same way, regardless of what school you are a part of. Your Professor will provide a lesson and issue a challenge they think will best test your competence. After the challenge is completed, the Schoolmaster will provide your ranks as he sees fit. For Good students, high ranks will result in reward.”

“For Evil students, low ranks will result in punishment!” Lady Lesso interrupts and cackles. The Evil students mutter appreciatively and Professor Dovey’s beautiful
features form a slight wince before softening again.

“Yes, Lady Lesso. If I could continue please?”

“Please.” Lady Lesso gives a mock bow.

“As I was saying: Your ranks across all classes will be averaged together and presented on a Scoreboard in the meadow where you will have your meals.”

Professor Dovey wields a wand in her hand, the tip of it glowing a pastel pink.

A few people gasp. Wands are unusual, but not unheard of. Mother always called them foolish and showy.

She points it at the sky behind her and a blank scoreboard appears.

“This board can be viewed at any time. It will help you learn how you are doing in your classes and how you can do better in the future. They will also be the deciding factor in the decisions for tracks at the beginning of your second year.”

The different boxes on the scoreboard glow different colors. The biggest chunk at the bottom glows bronze, the chunk at the top glows gold, and the middle rows glow silver.

I shiver, imagining my name in its place at the bottom of the board. Is all of this just my last few years of true human life?

“It could be that being a Leader would not be the most useful for your side or your story. Some students better serve the war as followers, animals, or plants. At the end of this first year, your scores will decide which track you will do best in. That is where you will train for the last two years. People in the middle of the scoreboard with average rankings will become Followers or Henchmen, assistants to the Leaders.”

Mary thinks that I’d be lucky to be a Follower. I suppose that it wouldn’t be too bad if I were. I could stay human anyway, maybe I could go home after I graduate and the war wouldn’t notice that I was gone, would never call me back.

“Students at the bottom will be tracked as megrims and will train to be animal or plant assistants, prepared to die for their Leader companions.”

A faint shiver of fear goes through the sea of students. Me and Belle share a look of misgiving. ‘I didn’t know my life was so meaningless.’ our looks say. ‘I didn’t know that I could die at the end of my nonexistent story.’

I don’t want to die.

“Students who train hardest of all will be in the top third. They will be tracked as Leaders. These are the students that the Storian will notice. They have the highest responsibility.”

The board disappears and she smiles at us like we are all new flowers that she can arrange as she pleases, or seeds ready to be planted. “I know that no matter what your track is, you will work hard and do your part for the war.”

The words “Prepared to die” still echo in my mind while Professor Dovey continues with her speech. I hear her voice echoing the words, the beautiful silver script of my invitation a ghost behind my eyelids.

Rapunzel Gothel of Corona,

The Schoolmaster would like to honor you with an invite to the School for Good. The Storian has been watching you carefully and thinks that you will do well in Good’s war against Evil.

Prepared to die.

Prepared to die.

Prepared to die.

Mother’s laughter echos in my ears: ‘Oh, Rapunzel! Come look at this. They think they could make you a Princess of Good!’

Prepared to die.

Even as a flower, I thought I would be able to go home after all this.

I am faintly aware of the Evil Dean stepping forward to speak. She goes over the rules. I register a Doom Room and curfew: 9:00. The kids roll their eyes and murmur annoyance.

Prepared to die.

Prepared to die.

The auditorium smells like marble and ash. I shiver in my light silk.

“Under no circumstances outside of School led activities will Good students venture into the School for Evil. No Evil students will venture into the School for Good.”

Prepared to die.

I didn’t even ask to fight. I don't want to die.

“Good with Good, Evil with Evil,” the school chants. The only thing Good and Evil will ever agree on.

The sounds of standing and chatter tell me that the introduction must be over.

Prepared to die.

Prepared to die.

I hardly register Cassandra, Belle, or Pascal on our walk back up to our rooms. I no longer want to inspect the stained glass windows of Princes and Princesses or read the metal plaques next to them.

All I can think about is the students sacrificed so those Leaders could stand there smiling. The animals dying in the storybooks I snuck home from school and hid under my skirts and in my bags.

It all seems more real now.

Prepared to die.

Will I have to sacrifice myself for Cassandra? For Belle? For Mary? Is that what I was invited here for, what they expect me to do?

I don’t want to die. I want to feel the grass under my bare feet and the dirt in between my fingers. I want to smell the flowers in the air and look at clouds and stars.

I don’t want to die.

Chapter Text

The rose feels unfamiliar and explosive in my tight fist.

“I’m just saying that it was obviously a mistake,” Mary is saying. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, probably.” I look down at the rose again and roll it back and forth, back and forth. My fingers concentrate on dancing along the stem to avoid the thorns.

“I mean, the Princes only get one rose each. Why would he give his to you? Why would anyone give theirs to you?”

Well, that’s one way to say it.

“Why do you care so much?” I feel the need to ask. I gesture toward the small pile of roses long forgotten on her dresser. “You seem to have plenty of admirers.”

“I just don’t understand.”

I roll my eyes, wishing that I could be anywhere but here, wishing that the beautiful princess in front of me could be saying anything else. The scent of the candles in our room smells sickly sweet, stinging my nose and eyes.

I remember the look on Eugene’s face when he saw that I caught it. How his face broke out in a smile. The feeling when all the Evers walked out of the auditorium. ‘Who gave you yours?’ we all asked. And when they saw the red petals clutched in my hand, nobody asked who my mother was. Nobody questioned my right to be here.

‘What? Are you ashamed of me, darling? Only a few hours there and they’ve already changed you.

“I mean, Mogrifs don’t have relationships once they’re tracked. Having a partner who’s destined for the mogrif tracks is just a waste of time.”

“Gee, thanks.” I clutch my rose tighter, rubbing the petals gently between the fingers of my other hand. I guess the Mogrif tracks are going to be my life now.

“Why would he do that?” She sits down on her bed and stares at the wall in front of her.

What’s so interesting about it that she can’t look at me?

“Maybe you shouldn’t have this discussion with the girl who got the rose?”

Her face hardens and she rolls her eyes. “Oh please, don’t tell me you think it meant anything.”

You seem to think it did, I want to say. You wouldn’t be talking about it if you didn’t think it meant anything.

‘But why are you so attached to this idea of a Prince anyway, Rapunzel? You’ve never wanted one before. You’ve always been happy without one. It’s just when you came here when things started to change.’

“And anyway, even if it did. It shouldn’t for you because Eugene is my prince.”

I finally look up at her. One of the few thorns of the rose stabs my palm and I wince, holding it a bit looser between the tips of my fingers. “Who said that?”

“It’s what Princesses do. Each of the Princes graduates with one girl. Each of the girls gets exactly one guy That way we don’t end up like savages. Everyone agrees that I would be perfect for Eugene. I’m sure we can find someone else for you though.” She looks back at me and offers me a small smile. “What about that redheaded boy you were sitting next to? I don’t think anyone wants him.”

My face burns. “I didn’t realize that,” I admit, twisting the rose between my fingers gently.

“Of course you haven’t,” she responds, and I can almost here the pity in her voice. “Nevers would fight to the death for nothing. They already do.”

‘You’ll never be a Princess, Rapunzel. No matter what, when they look at you, they’ll just see your witch of a mother.’

“Right,” I say, but I’m not really listening anymore. I kneel down to unzip my bag, sifting through it until I find one of the nightgowns Mother packed for me. The simple cotton feels comforting under my fingers now. Even though everything has changed, at least I can keep this. I move towards the bathroom to change and finally go to bed.

“You’re supposed to wear the uniform on your bed.” Mary tells me. She gets off of her bed and starts arranging the roses on her dresser.

I glance down at the bed and sure enough, a nightgown of pink silk is folded neatly and sits on the pillow. I glance over and spot one sitting untouched on Mary’s bed too.

“What do they care what we wear to bed?”

“Well, better than that thing that you call a gown.” She puts the roses in a pile, one on top of the other, and then purses her lips and starts to put them next to one another instead.

I reluctantly put my soft cotton nightgown back into my trunk and pick up the pink silk. It feels rough and foreign. I head over to the bathroom again.

“Wait, don’t go! We haven’t finished our conversation yet.”

I pause.

“What more is there to discuss?”

“He didn’t mean to give you that rose. It was an accident, he meant to give it to me.”

I raise one eyebrow.

“I need that rose. That’s how all the other girls will know…” her voice drifts off and the silence echos in the room.

‘Please, she doesn’t need any such thing.’

I hold it tighter than is probably wise, my arm childishly moves to hold it behind my back. “Says who?”

“Says everyone. Didn’t you see the looks you got after you caught it?”

I look down and my cheeks heat slightly with shame. I don’t know why. I don’t care what everyone else says. I don’t care. I don’t care. “I don’t care.”

“You should. The Evers are our future now, and if you don’t have allies, do you really have anything? I’m trying to help you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Silence.

I stand still, rolling the rose back and forth between my fingers and our conversation comes to an end.

Mary doesn’t talk to me while she takes her silk nightgown off her bed. She doesn’t glance over as she moves past me to go into the bathroom.

'She doesn't deserve that rose. You do.'

But she says she needs it. Do I need it?

When we both wake up, there is one extra rose on her dresser.

And there are no roses on mine.

Chapter Text

Hey guys!
So, bad news. I've decided not to publish a chapter this week so that I can have more chapters ready and not be scrambling every single week to get something out. This way hopefully the chapters will be of slightly better quality and I'll have more time to work out a plot.
I am very sorry, but there is some good news. A friend of mine made a playlist on Spotify for this fic. If you want to listen to it, here is the link:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Ljnuap3wYx24jnnIp4Gtz?si=VZXS6fWrRAeaYXCe0CieFw
*copy and paste into browser tab.

She is still adding to it, but hopefully this will tide you over until next Sunday.

I hope you are having (or had) a lovely day.

Chapter Text

POV: Mary

My mother looked old and tired when she helped me to get my bags onto the bus. She’d been so tired in the weeks leading up to my first day.

“Good luck, Mary.” My father bent down to kiss me on the cheek; the bags under his eyes looked deeper up close. My cheeks burned with guilt.

“Thank you, Father.” I smiled up at them, though my stomach was twisting with nerves.

I tried not to think about my parents going home, their castle huge and empty. There aren’t even any servants now, with so much of our kingdom impoverished or dead and the royal budget depleting fast.

I tried not to let myself be scared to go to the School for Good. I had been training for this school my whole life. I wasn’t not allowed to be scared.

I’m my parents’ last chance.

But then, with the school I always dreamed about so near that I could almost taste it…

I was terrified

If I don’t become at least a Follower, there won’t be a royal to inherit the throne. We’ll have to give up our land to Corona. If I don’t become at least a Leader, I may be too weak to be a strong Queen. Then I’ll have to give up our land to Corona.

They said the crown Prince of Corona is going to be at the School for Good during my year. Maybe if he likes me he’ll let my kingdom stay.

If I could be the Princess to the Prince of Corona…

“Last call!” The driver called.

I was the only one waiting at the station, the only person in the kingdom boarding the bus. The driver stared at me and tapped the steering wheel impatiently.

“Go on,” my mother said. She pushed me forward. I glanced over at my dad to see him subtly wiping tears from his eyes.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Mary.”

I stepped onto the bus and looked back at my parents. They were waving, holding one another’s hands. I couldn’t let their sacrifices be in vain.

Don’t cry, Mary. Don’t cry. Everyone’s counting on you.

I took a seat on the bus bound to the School for Good.

And my story began.

POV: Rapunzel

The curtains on the windows of our room are virtually non-existent.

That fact is made painfully obvious at the first signs of dawn. The sun shines through the clear glass to stare down menacingly at our previously sleeping figures.

My eyes open wide and I turn this way and that, making sense of the room in the early morning light.

There’s my bag at the foot of the bed. Another pink uniform that appeared in the night sits waiting for me next to it.

Mary puts one of the pillows over her face and turns to have her back to the window. There is a muffled scream of annoyance at the still present sunlight before she sits up and stretches, rubbing her eyes.

“Morning,” she grunts.

“Can I use the bathroom first?” I always have to go really bad in the morning.

“Fine.”

I get out of bed and almost trip over my long nightgown grabbing the dress before moving to the bathroom.

I take a moment to relieve myself and then look into the mirror.

I look about the same as I did yesterday, with my hair slightly more tangled and eyes a little less terrified. I’m not sure what I was expecting to change. I busy myself by brushing my hair and tying it into a long braid down my back.

“You almost done in there?”

“It hasn’t even been five minutes.”

“I know, but I need to get changed.”

“Change in the room. Nobody’s there.”

She gasps in horror. “I can’t do that! I need the mirror.”

I roll my eyes. Of course she does.

But I finish quickly and step out of the bathroom even faster. She slips inside and there are the sounds of a sink turning on and off, a toilet flushing, teeth being brushed.

I open the window to our dorm, letting in the crisp, autumn air. I miss the outside already.

The sky is pink with the sunrise and there is a moist smell in the air that tells me it rained last night, just a little. Fairies fly around the forest under me and when I stick my head out of the window and turn it to the left, I can just see the black tower of the School for Evil.

“Ugh, please close that window. It smells like death out there.” Mary just came out of the bathroom in her uniform and is running her fingers through her braids, detangling them.

‘The Evers can’t even appreciate nature. What even makes you want to be like them?’

“I wouldn’t call that smell death.” More like the very definition of life. But I close the window nonetheless.

She gives the window another glance over my shoulder before turning to the bag now sitting underneath her bed.

There is a knock on the door and I go to answer it.

“Mary!” the girls yell into the room the second I open the door. “Oh,” they say when they see me.

Three girls, all in the same pink uniforms that me and Mary are wearing. I recognize them from that party last night. The other girls talking to Eugene. The one in the middle has long silky black hair and the two pale faced girls on either side of her look like mirror images of each other.

“Hi.” I say. “I’m Rapunzel.”

The girl on the left laughs. “Yeah, we know. You’re that Never girl.”

Not a Never. But I don’t say anything.

“Is Mary here? She’s your roommate, right?” asks the one on the right.

“Right here!” she calls from behind me. The girls push past me to get inside.

I sit on my bed and watch them all talk and gossip while they get ready. They fight over the mirror and apply their makeup effortlessly. I feel a pang of envy.

One of them says something that I don’t quite catch and they all laugh. I laugh too. Mary finally remembers that I exist.

“Oh, Rapunzel. We need to use the room right now, to get ready for lessons. Why don’t you go somewhere else to get ready?”

“Oh,” I didn’t realize. “Sorry.” I open the door and walk out. The girl with silky black hair slams the door behind me.

Chapter Text

“She said what?” Belle finishes her dedicated chewing and swallowing to stare at me, her face almost shocked.

“She told me to get out?”

“Of your own room?” Cassandra finishes buttering her toast and folds it in half before eating half of it in one bite. “She sounds awful,” she said through a full mouth of toast. “You can room with us at any time.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I look down and move the food on my china plate around with a shining golden fork. My stomach growls but I don’t feel like eating.

“You guys ready for classes?”

Belle takes out her schedule and inspects it, chewing her lip with her plate now empty.“Beautification, Surviving Fairy Tales, Animal Communication? I don’t know how to do any of this stuff.”

“Ugh, I’ve been in those classes since I was a little kid. Not excited to do even more of them.”

“At least you’ll get a leg up.”

“I guess.”

“You will! Me and Rapunzel are already at a disadvantage here, not having any lessons beforehand.” She glances at me for a moment, hesitant. “At least I assume you didn’t have any lessons in Good?”

“Of course not.” I sigh. Maybe if Mother had succeeded in teaching me witchcraft and poisons I’d be across the bridge right now.

There’s still a few minutes before lessons start so we’ve decided to come outside, now settling under a great big oak tree. I place my hand against its trunk.

“Were you a student here too?” I whisper.

Its branches sway in answer.

The grass is greener and softer than even the grass at home. I breathe in the fresh air and allow myself a smile. With some breakfast and the familiarity of the outdoors, the sun’s stare feels almost joyous.

“We should probably go get ready.” Belle stands up, brushing dried leaves off of her skirt and moves toward the castle. “What class do we have first?”

I reach into the nonexistent pocket of my skirt and frown. No schedule. I must’ve left it in my room with the rush of the morning and no place to put it.

Cassandra reaches into a satchel hanging off her shoulder and takes out her own schedule. “Animal Communication. That’ll be a treat.”

Turns out, Animal Communication takes place just inside of the woods and is taught by an old woman with laugh lines deeper than the lines through the trunks of the trees and wavy hair silver as the moon that falls down her back.

“Why are there only Princesses here?” whispers Belle to me the moment we are all kneeling onto the grass and settled.

We both look expectantly at Cassandra.

“Some classes are just for girls. Do you see any boys in ‘Beautification’.” she says beautification with a snotty, pompous air that makes all three of us burst into hysterical giggles.

Mary and her friends glare at me and we sober up quickly.

The instructor smiles kindly at us and I feel myself warming up to her even more.

“Hello Princesses, I am Madame Perriweather, your Animal Communications instructor. I would like to say what a pleasure it is to help welcome you into the school and help support you in your journey to join the fight against Evil.”

The crowd buzzes with excitement and all the girls look at each other with bright smiles.

“As you all know, some of you will go on to become Princesses, leaders, the main characters in the stories told by the Storian, the main fighters against Evil.”

The girls look at her with intense focus now, all sure that they will be those lucky few, destined for greatness and glory.

“But some of you will find that as Princesses you would be…dead weight.” she smiles at nobody in particular, but it feels like she’s smiling in my direction and I
shrink within myself.

“Those students are better suited fighting for Good as animals or plants. Those are the animals that we will be communicating with in Animal Communication. Any Good animal wants to help a Princess in need. That will be something that those of you in the Mogrif tracks learn.”

I imagine being a squirrel or some other woodland animal, living a simple life in the woods, maybe with Mother Gothel taking care of me forever. Belle and Cassandra find me years after we graduate and tell me that a wicked witch is chasing them.

I look behind them to see an old, hunch-backed woman with short gray hair chasing them and holding her wand out almost comically, muttering spells under her breath and trying to get closer to them.

I jump in front of them and she curses me instead, without even hesitating.

And that’s how I die.

Is that truly my destiny?

‘They don’t respect you here, Rapunzel. Not like I do. Not like we respect each other.’

“Which brings me to today’s lesson.” I blink out of my reverie and Madame Perriweather gestures down at the pond in the center of our little circle. Large shimmering fish swim through the almost clear blue water for their backs to just touch the surface before they swim back to the bottom. “Wish fish. Who here has seen them before?”

Everyone except me, Belle, and one other girl raise their hands.

“Then I suppose one of you can tell me what they do?”

“They reveal your deepest wish,” says Mary without being prompted. “No matter what it is, they can illustrate it in the water.”

“Correct.” Madame Perriweather smiles at Mary and she beams. I stare at the floor so I can roll my eyes discreetly. “Wish fish can be useful. They help you to communicate with a prince, a friend, or a foe. They even help you to communicate with yourself and realize things that you didn’t realize before.”

I stare into the shimmering surface of the lake and see my own face reflected back at me. The fish swim up to greet me and I touch my hand to the water to stroke the parts of their backs that are visible. They really are quite beautiful.

“Now, for your assignment…”

Chapter Text

“Now, for your assignment, I want you to communicate with the fish. Put your finger in the water and think of your deepest wish. Wish fish will be able to come together and picture it in the surface of the water, allow me to demonstrate: ” Madame Perriweather puts her finger into the water and closes her eyes, muttering to herself. We all watch with bated breath.

After a moment, my own face appears in the water among a sea of other faces. I recognize all the Princesses from the Welcoming Ceremony. All of us look much older than we are now and we are holding hands, our faces bright with joy.

She stares in an almost wistful way at the picture and then removes her hand from the lake. The water ripples with the sound of a breeze rushing through my hair and the image fades from view.

A shiver goes down my spine.

“Alas, most wishes can never be.” She backs away from the lake without explaining herself. “Who would like to go first?”

Of course Mary is the one who raises her hand.

“Yes…”

“Mary, ma’am.” She stands and gives a small curtsy.

“Mary. Put your finger in the water now, just like that.” Madame Perriweather steps back and the whole group holds their breath as Mary closes her eyes, muttering to herself.

The fish start swimming very fast, turning all sorts of different colors. The current forms a sort of whirlpool as they move, all in different directions, until the water goes still once more.

All of us have to lean in to see the image, slightly fainter than Madame Perriweather’s: rows of chairs in a grassy field are filled by men in black suits and women in long dresses. Flowers that I’ve never seen before decorate the pathway between the chairs leading up to a white canopy. Mary stands under the canopy with a long white gown, clutching a large bouquet. Her face is alight with joy. Eugene stands next to her, staring at her with an adoring expression. There are two older people crying in the front row who I assume are Mary’s parents.

After a few seconds, Mary and Eugene come together in a passionate and picture-perfect kiss.

I burn with jealousy, though I have no right.

The girls all swoon and Mary blushes, smiling down at the scene. “Eugene’s wedding, and mine,” she says, as if it requires explanation.

“A worthy pursuit.” Madame Perriweather praises. “The image is slightly blurry but legible. Good work for a first try.”

The rocky soil digs into the bare skin of my knees and shins.

“Who would like to go next?” Madame Perriweather asks after the fish turn an iridescent gray once more.

Another girl raises her hand and places her fingertip into the water.

Another wedding, this one with a blonde prince. The other princesses swoon once more.

The girl blushes. “Prince Fredrick. I caught his rose at the Welcoming Ceremony and he spoke to me at the party.”

And on and on it goes, all wishes of handsome princes and picture-perfect weddings. Is this what a Princess is supposed to want?

Eventually, it’s only me, Belle, and Cassandra left.

We trade hesitant glances.

“I’ll go,” Belle says.

I allow myself a sigh of relief as she stands and places her finger into the lake. She closes her eyes and the fish start swimming in multicolored circles.

The fish eventually stop in the form of a vibrant picture, more vibrant than any of the others.

In the water, Belle stands in an old village, rows of cottage houses on either side of her. Her hair is longer and thicker. She looks a few years older and holds herself with a kind of elegant grace in a royal blue dress, multiple hardcover books held in the crook of her arm.

The people behind her appear to be building something: a stone statue that looks like a bigger version of Belle, standing with her shoulders back: godlike and proud.

The real Belle, the one with her finger in the water, stares at the view with her mouth agape.

There is a moment of complete silence as every single person stares at the surface.

Madame Perriweather coughs. “Dear, your finger.”

Belle realizes that her finger is still in the water. She removes it and the image disappears. I shiver.

“All right, who’s next?” Belle says in mock brightness. She looks to back to the two of us, her eyes beseeching.

Cassandra and I look at each other.

Cassandra shrugs. “I’ll go,” she says.

She places her finger into the water and the fish swim around again.

Are they tired by now, materializing all of these wishes?

Evidently not, because this wish is clearer than any of the ones before it. The water settles to paint an image of Cassandra, just as she is now, in pants and fighting leathers, holding out a sword to duel one of the princes.

I hear a snort from behind us. “Who does she think she is, a boy?”

I turn around to see one of the twins next to Mary whispering. The whole group falls into barely muffled giggles.

I scowl at them but Cassandra doesn’t even notice as she stares wistfully into the water, leaning as far as she can to the surface.

I have to yell her name multiple times to get her attention.

“Oh, sorry,” she says when I finally do. “Just got…” distracted.

Madame Perriweather turns to me. “You’re the last one my dear, what’s your name?”

“Rapunzel.”

I take a deep breath. I was expecting the water to be cold. Though it is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, it feels warm, almost friendly on the tip of my finger.

The stares of the other girls burn and the fish swim in all different directions to materialize my wish.

Chapter Text

The fish finally stop moving and my eyes drift towards the scene they depict.

It’s me. The pink silk dress is gone and I am wearing one of my everyday dresses from back home, the dirt on my front tells me that I’ve been working in the gardens.

Mother is standing next to me and I yearn to reach down and pull her into an embrace. Instead, the version of me in the water is talking to her animatedly. Mother watches me with an affectionate smile and nods along to whatever I’m saying, a flowerpot in her arms.

Cassandra and Belle stand on either side of me, looking just as happy as I am. It seems like we’re in the gardens from the cottage except it was moved to the gardens outside the School for Good.

There is another person standing next to me. I squint to make out the tan face and chiseled jaw line of Eugene, shaking Mother’s hand and joining the conversation with an infectious grin.

I sense that I should feel slightly embarrassed at that, but I don’t. Instead, a warm feeling encases me as I stare transfixed at the picture in the reflection of the water.

What was I doing? What was the assignment? I don’t even care anymore, not as long as I can stare down at the image in the lake.

“Rapunzel!”

Is someone calling my name?

From the water, my friends continue to speak soundlessly, but the call must have come from them, in the lake. Yes, that’s it!

“Rapunzel!”

I’m coming! I can’t tell whether I am saying it out loud or not, all I know is that I must get as close to them as possible. I lean down so my nose is almost touching the surface of the water.

It’s warm, welcoming. My friends smile up at me and gesture for me to come down.

Someone wrenches me from the edge, pushing me back.

Tears prick my eyes as the image disappears.

“No,” I whimper, longing to summon it back into view. But then I remember where I am.

“That woman, in your wish, who was she?” Madame Perriweather’s voice is neutral, though the girls stare at me with expressions of disgust. Even Belle and Cassandra can’t completely hide their grimaces. I know which woman she’s talking about.

“My mother.”

Mary’s eyebrows are furrowed in a scowl. “Yes, Rapunzel’s mother: the Never. Why not go back to her?”

The other girls murmur in agreement.

Don’t you think I would if I could?

“Enough!” Madame Perriweather shouts over the noise. Silence falls over the room. It seems like even the animals in the trees and the fish in the lake are still, waiting. “This is the School for Good. We will not have any disunity on our side. Any Ever at this school is Good. Any invite to the School for Good comes from the Schoolmaster and is final. Am I understood?”

She glances around the now silent group of girls. Belle is the first to nod her head.

“Now, who’s next?”

“Everyone has gone already,” I find myself saying. More murmurs, now in temporary agreement.

“Wonderful! Now, the Schoolmaster will give you your rankings. They will be added to the leaderboard at the end of the day. Then, you can all go back to the Good Tower for your next lesson.”

Everyone looks up with bated breath. Some girls close their eyes or cross their fingers. I sit down and look at the floor.

Glowing numbers appear above our heads, one through twenty. Rankings. I know that everyone wants a one, or even something lower than a five. Low numbers mean safety. Low numbers mean survival.

Mary stares up at her shining silver two. She lets out a huff of frustration and waves her hand through it to make it disappear from view.

Cassandra: 15. She gives a little sigh before waving it out of view.

Belle: 20, but she doesn’t seem to be mourning. Instead, she points to a spot right above my head.

“Rapunzel-”

I look around, all the other girls are staring unashamedly at me.

I look up at the shimmering golden one.

Then the words of outrage start.

“She can’t be a Princess! She doesn’t even know how to be an Ever!”

“She dreamed of a witch!”

“She dreamed for MY Prince!”

Madame Perriweather hushes everyone. “It is not any of us who decides what scores people receive, but the Schoolmaster. Students do not question the choices of the Schoolmaster. Right now, your loyalty will be to him, the Storian, and Good. Nobody else. Is that clear?”

There is silence, broken by the occasional loud glares in my direction. All the rankings disappear from our view, the memories of them not forgotten.

“Good souls are souls that dream not only for their own happiness, or their one true love, but souls that dream for the happiness of all the people they love. That is what Rapunzel demonstrated today and that is what the Schoolmaster complements.”

“Yeah, the happiness of a Never,” a girl grumbles.

“If the Never is who she loves then so be it.”

Instead of making me feel better, the words make the weight in my stomach grow bigger.

Everyone starts packing up all their things. I stare into the water to avoid the stares of my peers. The golden rank has disappeared now.

“Rapunzel, could I speak to you for a moment?”

Cassandra touches my shoulder. “We’ll wait for you, Raps.”

She and Belle have a hushed conversation before quickly making their way out of the forest towards the Good Tower.

“Your wish today was very impressive, very Good.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t know what it was going to be when I put my finger in the water.” Why couldn’t I just dream of a Prince and a fairy tale wedding like everyone else?

“You dream for the happiness of those you love, even those you just met. Why are you ashamed?”

I shake my head helplessly.

“I only beg of you to remain vigilant. Good can sometimes be vicious, especially to those who can’t be like everyone else. If you want to fight for Good in this war, you must understand that.”

I nod.

“You may go, Rapunzel. Congratulations on today’s rank. You should be proud.”

Chapter Text

“So, what did Madame Perriweather want to talk to you about?” Belle asks me. I hesitate.

We are still walking out of the forest now. I take a deep breath of the fresh pine trees and flowers, trying to calm myself down before we reach Princess Etiquette. Something tells me I’ll need it.

“She was telling me to ‘be vigilant’, whatever that means.” I let out a forced chuckle, expecting Cassandra and Belle to laugh along with me. They don’t.

“She’s right, you know.” Cassandra says. “If there’s one thing Evers are serious about, it’s the war against Evil. Most people weren’t expecting a girl raised by a Never to even make it here. Now, they’re all expecting you to say you were abused or something to prove your loyalty.”

“But I wasn’t abused.”

“Yes… but now how are they supposed to know that you’re completely loyal?”

I didn’t ask for my invitation. Why do I have to prove my loyalty to a cause I couldn't care less about?

‘The only thing these people think about is the war. This is why I tried to keep you away from this world. This is why I didn’t want you to get the letter.’

Belle takes pity on me. “Let’s stop talking about this now.” She turns to Cassandra. “We have Princess Etiquette next. I need the 411 on that. Fast.”

“What’s a four-one-one?”

“Actually, I’m not really sure. Just tell me what to expect I guess.”

I know that I should probably be paying attention to Cassandra’s ‘four-one-one’, but I find my mind drifting off as we make it out of the forest and start walking down the halls.

What do they all mean? Could I be sent away if they find out that I’m more loyal to the woman who raised me than to Good? They want to win the war after all. If I can prove that I’m Evil, they won’t want me to fight for Good. They might even send me home.

‘The Schoolmasters decisions are final. How do you know I would even allow an Ever in my house?’ But I know that Mother Gothel would always take me back, no matter what.

We’ve entered a new classroom. This one is a break from the candied sweetness of the hallways. Instead, its marble floor and creme walls make it look like one of those sitting rooms from my storybooks. Do those even exist? I’ll have to ask Cassandra or Mary.

“Welcome to Princess Etiquette, new Evers,” says a wispy voice. I glance around to see a short woman with pale skin and long blond hair. She’s wearing close to the same uniform as us but with a longer skirt and a shawl around her shoulders. “My name is Professor Zoey. If you are all here, we can get started.”

The Princesses look at each other, their faces bright with excitement at a new challenge to complete.

But Princess Etiquette seems to be nothing more than just what it’s called: Princess Etiquette.

We start by walking in perfectly straight lines with chalk powder on our shoes.

Professor Zoey gushes and displays to the class how clean Mary’s lines are. The other girls laugh at how the chalk emphasizes the way my feet turn out and drag on the floor. My face burns.

Then, it’s about holding your back straight up. Professor Zoey holds a long ruler to Mary’s back to show how the head is supposed to be above the hips and the hips above the ankles. We carry nests of bird eggs on our heads to try and motivate us.

When my nest inevitably falls, the eggs break on the floor with loud cracks. I cry for the fallen birds and try my best to clean it up, but a fairy bites my hand to force me out of the way. A few seconds later, the mess had disappeared.

By the end of the class, we are all sweating and exhausted, even Mary’s figure is less haughty than before. Our ranks appear above our heads and we all look up in unison.

Twenty. That’s what my rank was. A fail. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. Being raised by a Never on the offscirts of an Ever town doesn’t exactly teach you about proper “princess etiquette” the way growing up in a royal palace did for Mary or even how being groomed for Good did for Belle.

I quickly look at everyone else’s scores before they vanish from sight.

Mary has a one, obviously. She gives a small sigh of relief this time before waving it out of view. Cassandra has a 13 but she doesn’t seem that perturbed. Belle has a four. She looks at it in brief surprise before blushing and waving it out of view.

“Time for your next classes girls.” Professor Zoey says to us. The other girls smile and curtsy. I rush to copy them without falling flat on my face and we move out of the room. “We should work on curtsies next.” I hear her mutter as I collect my things. “Shame smiles aren’t in my jurisdiction.”

History of Heroism is taught by a teacher named Professor Sader. Though I know most of the things he teaches us from my storybooks, his lesson is easily my favorite of the morning. It’s the very first one that the Princesses and the Princes have together and though we are forced to sit on opposite sides of the room. It’s nice to see Pascal again. When we make eye contact, he beelines straight to us.

“Horrible morning. You?” he says by way of greeting.

“Worse,” I say. Before I can tell him about what happened in Animal Communications and Princess Etiquette, Professor Sader is clapping his hands for attention and we are forced to split up. Me, Belle, and Cassandra find the last three empty seats on the girl’s side, Pascal moves to the boy’s side. He smiles at the boy he sits next to. The boy offers him a nod and looks away.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take me long to realize that Professor Sader can’t see. I remember an old man from back home. He would walk with a stick tracing the floor in front of him. The townspeople treated him with about as much respect as the useless weirdos receive: absolutely none.

Mother used to invite him over to our house for tea. “The regular outcasts” she called us. He was always kind to me. He used to buy me storybooks, the ones that Mother always disapproved of where the heroes are victorious. They were always my favorites.

The Evers are so confused at Professor Sader it makes me wonder if they’ve ever seen anyone who can’t see.

‘Probably not in their cushy castles. Weirdos aren’t permitted anywhere near princesses.’

When they glance at one another with confused expressions, my chest warms with misplaced pride in my own knowledge.

Professor Sader finishes reading summaries of about a dozen stories. I glow with pride when I realize that I know each hero he mentions.

“This is one of the only classes that combines everboys and evergirls. Do any of you know why that is?”

The Evers stare at him expectantly, waving their hands in the air.

I roll my eyes and gesture to Cassandra, pointing to my eyes. She gets the message.

“We’re normally separated because princes and princesses play different roles, but they should have the same perspective on history.”

“Yes, Miss Cassandra. That is correct.”

Some of the girls who had raised their hands turn to glare at me.

“Now boys, if you make it on the Leader track, your teachers will tell you that your princesses should be treated as trophies, protected and sheltered. I am here to
tell you that is a lie. Good is a team and princes and princesses are a partnership. If you want to win your stories, you need to be able to work together and treat one another with equal respect.”

Cassandra and Belle share a small smile. The boys roll their eyes from the opposite side of the room.

“That is why, for this exercise, Princes and Princesses will be grouped together.”

Looks are exchanged from one side to the next along with excited whispers as partners are found and alliances formed.

“Partnerships that I will be assigning!”

A collective groan from the class.

Sader continues as if nothing happened. “And please, I shouldn’t even have to say this but every year I have to. There will be times for flirting but this is not one of them. If I catch it getting in the way of your assignment, you will be disqualified.

The goal is to organize an army that will defeat a team of Nevers with as few casualties as possible.” He points a glowing finger to the black board behind him and the chalk begins moving on its own. “Your partners are on the blackboard.”

There is brief silence as everyone scans the blackboard for their names, figures out their partner, and then sizes them up from across the room.

My name is close to the top so I find it quickly. I look at the name next to mine: Prince Eugene.

Just my luck.

I spot Eugene towards the back of the class. He leans back lazily and raises his eyebrows at me. He offers me a grin and I force my face into a scowl. Cassandra shoots me a pitying look.

“Stand!” Professor Sader says when the chatter begins to start up again.

He points his finger at each of the desks in turn and they spread out, becoming wider stations with complex scenes of miniature castles facing forests and rows of miniature soldiers standing in front of them. Some of the castles are blue, some of them are silver, some are small, some are big. Some of the soldiers are in gold armor, some in bronze. Two human sized plush chairs sit at each station.

“Please find your partners and choose a station. All of them will offer you the same chances, I promise.”

There is intense commotion as everyone rushes to find their partner and claim the stations with the biggest castles and the armies with gold armor.

Eugene taps me on the shoulder. I jump.

“Sorry,” he says, not at all sorry. “Let’s find a station, shall we?”

Cassandra gestures to me from a white castle in the middle of the room. Belle sits at the station across from Cassandra with Pascal sitting at her side. Both Belle and Pascal are already in deep conversation about their strategies. I’m happy they’re finally getting along.

I walk over to them and Eugene follows in my wake. We reach a station right next to Cassandra’s at the same time as another couple: A boy who I don’t recognize and one of Mary’s friends. She scowls at me and I start to step away so we can find another station. Eugene puts his hand on the table and raises his eyebrows as the boy. He leads Mary’s friend away from the station.

She glares at me as they go.

Eugene pulls out a chair for me and I sit. He drops into the chair next to me.

“Rapunzel, right?”

“That’s me.” I avoid looking at him by picking up one of the little soldiers. It stands still in the palm of my hand but when I tighten my fist around it, it wriggles out of my hand and runs back into line with the other soldiers. I bend my head down to look at the soldier in the back. It turns and winks at me, tipping its hat in my direction. “They’re… alive?”

“Not really.” Eugene moves one to the top of a tower. It walks around the space and then looks into the distance. “They’re just spelled to follow the etiquette of regular soldiers. My dad got me a set when I was little.”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

“Lucky you.”

All of the other couples have already started discussing tactics, moving the soldiers to different parts of the castle or the forest.

“What should we do?”

Chapter Text

I watch everyone work. “I’ve never really seen a battle before, or soldiers.”

He looks at the scene thoughtfully.

“I’ve read about them though!”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory. You put the soldiers in groups and they’ll fight for you if there’s a threat. Nevers or an opposing army. Stuff like that.”

“But isn’t there some kind of strategy?”

“That’s where it gets tricky.” He looks at the scene again.

Professor Sader just said ‘Never attack’, but I deposit a soldier into the forest. If I were a Never who wanted to attack a castle, that’s where I would attack from. Neutral territory.

“Good thinking, but if there’s a full army of Nevers there, one little soldier doesn’t stand a chance.” He places about five more soldiers throughout the forest. “Now if any of them scream, the rest will come running and they can all cover more ground.”

It seems a little harsh to me, using a person’s screams as a whistle. I don’t say anything though.

We continue like that for a while, our heads bent over the station and whispering ideas to each other, placing miniature soldiers and handing them tiny weapons
and shields. I’ve immersed myself so much that it’s very abrupt when I hear raised voices from the station next to us.

“I’m telling you,” Cassandra says. “Placing them all in front of the castle to be a buffer between the Nevers and us is not going to work. That whole idea is just ridiculous.”

“Well, I know that it might seem complicated to you but I’ve been doing this since I was three,” her partner is telling her. “I think I know how it’s done.”

“Three? I’ve been doing this since before I could walk.”

“Oh, really? That’s cute. And has a Princess like yourself been trained by a King on military strategy?”

She stares at the scene and the soldiers, so angry she can’t even speak.

“You should listen to her, man.” Eugene stops working at our station to look at Cassandra’s partner. “She’s been listening in on my dad’s military lessons since we were two, and her dad’s the army general. She’s been to more training sessions than I have.”

Cassandra turns to Eugene, “I don’t need you to stand up for me. I can vouch for myself.”

“And maybe you should focus on your own strategy,” her partner adds. “Wouldn’t want you two accused of cheating.”

“You don’t want a failing rank, do you? Cass can beat any of Corona’s soldiers, even her dad.”

“Corona must not have very strong soldiers then, if they can be beat by a little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl you-” her voice cuts off as she tightens her hands into fists. She takes a deep breath. “Y’know what? It’s not worth it. Let’s just do your idea.”

“I agree.” He takes the soldiers very quickly and begins positioning them in rows. He doesn’t look back at her or even speak to her again.

Cassandra leans back in her chair and watches him in silence, her face in a resigned scowl. I offer her a sympathetic smile but quickly become once more engrossed in the quiet obedience of the toy soldiers, the click of their armor and shields falling into place, the quiet crunches of their feet as they patrol and get into their positions.

It’s almost satisfying to see them follow my unspoken orders without question. One offers me a salute when I place her and I salute back.

It doesn’t feel like long at all when Professor Sader calls the class to attention once more.

“Now, we will send in the Nevers.” He points his finger at his desk and a handful of figures appears at the end of the table. I inch closer to get a better look.

On the left side, a fairy smaller in proportion than the ones I’ve seen around the School for Good, it hovers a few inches above the table and its face is set in a permanent, ugly scowl.

Next to the fairy sits something that must be the cross between a wolf and a man. It’s covered in fur and growls at us like we’ve offended it, but it stands up on two legs. I try not to look at it too long.

And next to the old witch sits a woman with long black curls and brown eyes.

I let out a gasp of surprise.

Mother Gothel.

She stares at us with an almost bored expression on her face and my dress is too tight around my neck and breathing is too hard. The whole room becomes a few degrees colder and multiple feet smaller.

“Some of the graduated Nevers from a few years back,” Professor Sader explains to the more confused Evers.

“Rapunzel, are you all right?” Eugene whispers his question into my ear and I almost jump out of my skin.

“Yes, I’m fine.” My voice is a bit shriller than normal, but I’m hoping that it can still pass for normal.

“These Nevers are a good selection of the different kinds of people you will have to defend your castle against. Now, any volunteers?”

There is a moment of awkward silence as multiple Evers raise their hands. I roll my eyes.

“Call out in my class, please. I can’t see you if your hands are raised.” He waves in the general direction of his cloudy eyes and gets a few chuckles from his class.

“We can go first!” calls out Mary (obviously).

“Yes, that’s Mary I expect? And I paired you with…”

“Adam, sir.”

“Right then.” He makes his way over to his desk and picks up the Nevers. They wriggle a little bit in his hands but don’t fight too hard as he makes his way over to Mary’s station and sets them down at the very edge of the forest.

Chapter Text

The man-wolf plays offense and runs to the castle. The fairy tries flying above the trees. Both are seen immediately by the soldiers. They begin attacking the wolf with swords and clubs and shooting at the fairy with bows and arrows.

Their screams are silent as they writhe in pain, but I imagine they are hysterical.

Mother Gothel doesn’t attack, instead climbing a tree and watching the soldiers.

“Dame Gothel is known for her strategy,” Professor Sader narrarates. “This Never hasn’t yet defeated her nemesis but Lady Lesso always thought that she’d be in an amazing story, maybe end Good’s winning streak.”

The Evers look at Mother with newfound curiosity.

Stop looking at her. He’s lying. She doesn’t want to end Good’s streak. She doesn’t care.

Though they fight, the army doesn’t take long to defeat the fairy and the man-wolf. When the Nevers fall to the ground and don’t get up, they disappear from the station and re-appear on Professor Sader’s desk.

It’s just Mother Gothel who remains.

Mother Gothel stays in the tree and the soldiers go back to their patrolling.

But it’s not long before her foot slips ever so slightly on one of the branches and they realize there’s another Never in their midst. They scan the trees and eventually see her.

I hold my breath.

Mother jumps out of the tree and runs toward the castle, her red skirt billowing out around her.

Run, Mother, run. Don’t let them get you. If they do they will kill you and we’ll never be together again.

Run.

Run.

Run.

I can’t figure out whether I’m saying those words out loud, or just whispering them. All I can register is Eugene squeezing my hand and Cassandra placing her own on my shoulder in what is probably supposed to be a comforting gesture.

I don’t feel much of anything.

The guards run after Mother, their armor clanging, their swords and shields in fighting position though Dame Gothel is unarmed.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

They must have called for backup. The other guards from the castle make their way to the only Never left in the forest until she is surrounded with nowhere else to go.

She starts her talking.

We can’t hear her. I imagine her voice as she moves her hips suggestively. ‘Oh, you don’t want to kill me. I’m not attacking the castle at all.’ She gets closer to the men though every part of me wants to tell her to run far, far away. ‘I was just passing through.’

But it’s no use.

I see it before anybody else.

The knife taken off its hook on the belt of one of the soldiers.

Being raised in the air.

“MOTHER!” I run. I’m not sure where I’m going. To stop toys the size of my fist from killing each other?

The small body falls limp to the ground.

I can’t breathe.

And somehow I’m sitting in a plush chair at a station on the opposite side of the room from where the deed was committed. A hand that is not my own is on my shoulder and another comes to gently wipe the tears from my cheek.

“Rapunzel, do you hear me? It’s not real. It was just an exercize.”

I try to make sense of her words but all I can think of is Mother’s unsuspecting face before she went down, the knife being plunged into her chest.

“Do you understand? She’s still alive. That wasn’t her.”

The room comes into sharper focus.

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

That wasn’t her.

And like a tsunami from fifty feet above, jolting me off my feet, the consequences of my outburst become clear.

Each Ever in the room is staring at me with varying levels of disgust. Mary is talking to Professor Sader who is shaking his head and placing a new group of
miniature Nevers (thankfully not including Dame Gothel) into the forest of a different station.

“Is she with us once more?” He glances in my general direction. I know he can’t see, but I feel like I am being inspected under a magnifying glass with the intensity of his stare.

“Yes,” I say. My head bows down so I don’t have to look at anyone. Belle rubs my shoulder in what she probably thinks is a comforting sort of way. “I’m fine.”

“Wonderful. I suppose we can move on, then. Come over here, Rapunzel. You two as well, Cassandra and Belle.”

We scurry over to the table. Eugene appears behind me.

“Are you all right? What just happened?”

‘He won’t want anything to do with you after he finds out.’

Good with good, evil with evil, even when evil is the woman who raised you and made you who you are.

“It was nothing.”

“Mary said that you were raised by Nevers. Is that actually true? Is she the Never who raised you? That woman you cried for?”

I don’t answer, trying to concentrate on the new group of Nevers making their way to a royal blue castle. I don’t recognize any of the villians in this pack so I manage to calm down just slightly and pretend like my mother wasn’t murdered before my eyes.

This group manages to get a bit farther before they are defeated. The duo (whichever one it was. They all seem to blend together) forgot to place soldiers in a crucial part of the forest. The Nevers made it to the castle before they were cornered and beaten.

“You both should have used stronger defenses in the forest. If it weren’t for the quick thinking of your soldiers, the castle would have been invaded. Nonetheless, you worked together very nicely. Well done.”

The girl and the boy grin at each other and the Nevers are revived once more.

I can’t tell exactly what order Professor Sader is testing in. He goes to the stations like he has no plan in mind and he places Nevers at some stations twice, needing Evers to remind him which of the castles he’s been to.

Chapter Text

The tests all bleed together for the most part. The Nevers are placed into different parts of the forest. They try to make their way to the castle in whatever way they know how. The soldiers track them and stop them in time. No duo’s army has failed yet.

He moves closer to Eugene’s and my station. I hold my breath but he goes to Cassandra’s station instead.

I let out a guilty but temporary sigh of relief.

“Have I been to this one yet?” Professor Sader stands over Cassandra’s station, ready to place the Nevers in. I can’t quite tell if he’s joking or asking a serious question.

Cassandra shakes her head.

The rest of the class voices their assent: “No.”

“Wonderful.” He places the Nevers into the forest.

At first, they wander around like they do every time, getting used to their new surroundings after they’ve been revived and placed in a foreign enviornment.

Then, splitting off onto seperate paths, all leading the same way, they make a break for the castle.

Cassandra and her partner (but mostly her partner) put soldiers only surrounding the castle all in rows. The Nevers meet a long shield of tiny soldiers in bronze armor.

Though the soldiers fight back, the Nevers manage to overpower them easily. They break through the wall and invade the castle. Like magic (probably through magic), all the soldiers fall down dead and the castle erupts in smoke.

“I see, our first failure. Can anyone tell me the problem with the strategy this group displayed?”

Cassandra’s hands are in fists and her face is red with fury. I can imagine her conversation with her partner playing over and over in her head as the whole group of Evers agrees that they should’ve done what she suggested and placed more soldiers along the perimeter of the forest.

“Sorry,” I whisper when she looks at me.

She shakes her head. “Save it. What’s a failing rank when I’m proving jerks wrong?” but I can tell that she’s angry by the way her hands are still shaking.

“All right, next group.” He places the Nevers at our station. Eugene takes a quick breath in preparation.

But it mostly goes okay. The Nevers are found in the forest just as we planned. The soldier standing guard alerts the other soldeirs to the invasion. They all come together to attack the Nevers and stop them from entering the castle grounds.

“Very nice. Which group is this?”

“That’s Eugene’s,” Mary twists her hair around her finger while she looks at him.

My hands become fists. I don’t say anything. Why can’t I just find a different prince?

“Ah yes, Eugene and Rapunzel. Good idea placing the soldiers in the forest and you made it even more impactful by giving them different sections to patrol. You two work well together, I’ll remember that.”

Mary’s glares are so sharp and pointed that they feel like daggers entering my skin. I can still feel them at the back of my head even when I turn around and look at the only station that hasn’t been tested yet: Belle’s.

I can feel her suck in her breath from behind me but the process goes fine. She doesn’t fail anyway and the Nevers don’t make it far at all before the soldiers manage to corner and eliminate them. She lets out a sigh of relief and I give her a small smile.

“Hey, good job man.” Eugene pats the shoulder of the boy next to him: Belle’s partner.

“It wasn’t even me,” he whispers behind his hand. “All the good ideas came from her.” He nods in Belle’s direction.

I squeeze Belle’s hand. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” She beams.

“Is that everyone?”

People nod and there is a chorus of general agreement.

“That’s good because we are out of time! The Schoolmaster should be distributing your ranks right about…” he pretends to glance down at a watch on his wrist. A few kids offer him a chuckle of appreciation.

The seconds tick by.

I can see him counting under his breath in a whisper…

“Now.”

The numbers errupt above our heads. I glance up at mine: ten. I’m happy that the Schoolmaster didn’t count my outburst against me but from my score in Animal Communications it doesn’t seem like he cares about that.

I’m surprised at that. Everyone else seems to.

Cassandra pretends like her glowing twenty-nine (second-to-last) isn’t upsetting her, but I can see the way her shoulders sag ever-so-slightly and her mouth curves down just a little.

I squeeze her shoulder and help her to wave the number out of place.

Belle has a six and her partner has a one even though she did most of the work. When she sees his number, she waves her own away and crosses her arms, scowling at him with a glare that could rival Mary’s.

“Time to go,” I whisper to Cassandra, nodding in our friends direction. She nods in agreement and we pull Belle outside the classroom to join the sea of Evers.

Belle and Cassandra enter the Beautification room and I walk in after them.

“Oh dear.” A curly haired woman on the other side of the hallway, surveying the Evergirls as the walk in, reaches her arm out to stop me in my path.

Mary flounces past, offering me a prim, gloating smile as she takes her seat.

“Darling, your hair! It could be so much longer but your ends are all split. Your dress could make the Princes drool but you are dressing yourself as if you are a ragdoll and your clothes are nothing but potato sacks.” She cups my cheek and shakes her head.

I just stand there.

“So much beauty, wasted.”

Chapter Text

When I was little, I used to watch Mother Gothel put on makeup in the mirror.

“Beautiful women, Rapunzel…” she’d start and drone on and on.

“Am I beautiful too, Mother?” I used to ask. I wanted to be in whatever group she considered herself apart of.

“You are satisfactory,” she’d say. Or sometimes “acceptable”. I learned early on that “beauty” was just not something I had. Mother never told me being “satisfactory” was a bad thing. It was just something I was.

I didn’t realize that beauty was a thing that could be wasted. I didn’t realize that it was a thing that I had at all.

“Welcome future Princesses to Beautification,” the woman starts when we’ve all taken our seats. “I am Professor Anemone and this is one of the most important classes you will take during your Good training.”

The room has pastel pink walls with white tile floors. We’re all sitting at stools behind white marble counters. In front of every person there’s a mirror, dozens of different sized combs, hair brushes, and clips, and the kind of powder Mary was using to decorate my face.

“Beauty can end wars, issue decrees, and change lives.”

I am able to tune her out almost completely as I inspect the supplies laid out in front of me and look into the crystal clear mirror.

I don’t think I’m ugly exactly, but I wouldn’t say I’m beautiful. At this school there are just mirrors everywhere. Are Evers supposed to be this vain?

‘Of course they are, Rapunzel. Look around you. All these Evers care about is their looks.’

I’m not sure that’s exactly true. Cassandra cares about more than her looks. Belle does too. Even Mary cares about more than just how she looks.

“And in this class, I will be empowering you. I will teach all of you what it means to be beautiful and how to bring your kingdoms together.”

The girls sit forward in their seats, ready to hear some awe-inspiring secret. None comes, just a challenge.

“Today we will discuss only the most basic of beautification: smiles. Now, before you laugh!” because some girls are smirking at each other or chuckling. “Smiles can end wars and unite kingdoms.”

She tells us how to make our smiles perfectly lovely, just the right amount of teeth, curved up just so. The rest of the class time is spent with all of us trying to smile exactly the way we’re supposed to.

And no matter what, I can’t do it.

“Too wide, dear. Oh, squint the eyes a little more. Not like that.”

Belle manages to get a perfect smile on her first try, so does Mary (no surprise there). My only comfort is that Cassandra seems to be struggling almost as much as I am.

The other girls smile their perfect smiles at us. Belle at least looks a little bit guilty, but after a look of distain from Professor Anemone, she unwrinkles her eyebrows and goes back to her princess perfect smile.

And then the class is over. And me and Cassandra couldn’t make a perfect smile, not once.

A failing rank erupts above my head.

“It’s not a big deal,” Belle says at lunch, her mouth full of bread and cheese. “It’s just one failing rank.”

“Yeah,” Pascal agrees. “You need three in order to be Failed. One is no big deal.”

According to Pascal, he had received two in the morning. The only thing that allowed him to be here today was his 19 in History of Heroism. “It was just because of my partner though.”

“I guess.” I pick at my food. I’m starving but nothing really looks appetizing.

We’re sitting under the tree again, the tree that I’m convinced used to be a student. There are other kids here now, the Princesses keep firmly away from us (me). So do the Princes, though Eugene’s group is sitting close enough that Mary is glaring at me from his side.

I pretend not to notice, instead turning to Cassandra. She’s been quiet ever since History of Heroism. “What are you thinking about?”

“They don’t really document Ever’s lives at the School for Good.”

Belle lets out a little snort. “Yeah, that’s why Gavaldon thought that the kids were getting killed by bears or something, until Jack left us the clue in his storybook. What makes you mention it?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t you ever thought that it’s weird, how we treat an Ever’s life here as secondary even though… it’s where it all happens, isn’t it? Everything happens here first.”

“Nobody likes reading the world building,” Belle says. “It’s boring. And confusing. Much easier for the Storain to start in the middle of the story where all the action is happening.”

“But doesn’t that mean everyone’s life boils down to some tiny moment in the future? One small decision or act of heroism? The Storian might not even notice us even if we graduate in a Leader rank. How is that telling someone’s story?”

“That’s just how things are done, I suppose.”

“Belle,” I ask, eager to change the subject. “Who’s the Never Reader?”

“Oh, it’s Donna.”

“Donna?”

“Yeah, over there.” She points in the general direction of a group of Nevers. The Nevers glance at us, see us looking at them, roll their eyes, and go back to their conversation. “The one with the straight black hair.”

I spot her: straight black hair pulled into a long braid. She holds herself coolly and appears to be leading the conversation. The other Nevers laugh when she talks and look up at her with worshipful eyes.

“She used to force the little kids into just horrible outfits and disrespected everyone,” Belle says. She seems lost in a kind of reverie. “Though I suppose it’s thanks to her I was here. I doubt I would’ve gotten the Schoolmaster’s notice if I hadn’t helped those kids she hurt.”

“That’s not true, is it?” Cassandra asks. She seems almost offended by the prospect. “Surely Good can exist without Evil. You were Good all on your own. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I guess.” But Belle looks thoughtful but not convinced.

Chapter Text

I glance over at the Nevers. When I heard that Lunch periods would be combined with the school for Evil, I was excited. I thought that here, at least, we could all look past the basis on both sides. But it seems like at this school, the training ground for the war between Good and Evil, Evil and Good, there is no way.

I suppose that should’ve been obvious.

Being raised by a Never makes me a freak to Good, but maybe it won’t make me a freak to Evil. Evil has no familial ties, not like Good does anyway. Maybe they wouldn’t care.

But I’m Good.

Right?

Our forest groups in Surviving Fairy Tales are mixed too, but when class starts with everyone standing on either side just glaring daggers at each other, I feel like it’s just to increase competition, not to create alliances.

The only good thing about this class is that it’s full of familiar faces: Eugene (not that Eugene on his own makes it good, just… I can appreciate a familiar face), Cassandra and Belle, Pascal, that Never Reader: Donna who I recognize even though we’ve never been introduced. At least Mary isn’t here, though a few of her friends are.

“Okay now, no need to start killing one another now. There will be plenty of time to do that when your stories start.” A creature comes out of the distance: a very short man. He appears to be a dwarf of some kind. “My name is Yuba the gnome.”

Or a gnome. Gnomes are cool too.

“This class began very recently when Evers and Nevers graduated out of the school only to be killed by the Forest before the Storian could even notice them. What a waste of training.” He shakes his head. “We couldn’t have that. The Schoolmaster created this Blue Forest to be a kind of fake version of the real Endless Woods. All the elements here are fake but the danger you face within the forest is very real.”

The students are unified for just a moment as they exchange looks of misgiving.

“But don’t worry! I’m teaching you to survive here. Nothing can kill you as long as you do exactly what I say.”

How… comforting. This class introduction seems like it’s going to take a while so I sit down and begin twisting some of the royal blue grass between my fingers. Some of the other students follow my lead.

“This class can either make or break your rankings. At the end of the year there will be a Trial by Tale. The best students from every forest group will be chosen to attend and the winners will receive twenty first-place ranks between all of them.”

That peaks the interest of the students. It’s obvious everyone is thinking the same thing: any student who can get into the Trial by Tale and win will become a Leader for sure.

And everyone wants to become a Leader. It’s better than the alternative, I suppose.

“So, let us begin.” He says with a grin. The class steps just a little bit closer. It’s as if being as close as possible would give them a better chance of success. I stay a healthy distance away. “Start by finding a partner, please.”

Me and Cassandra immediately look at each other. Belle gives a little sigh and we give her apologetic glances. I offer another one to Pascal who looks somehow more disappointed. They partner with each other instead.

“Now that allies have been chosen, please follow me into the Forest.”

I hear the collective intake of breath from all around the clearing. Princesses look at each other as if terrified. Princes and Nevers put on brave faces. Cassandra clutches my arm tighter.

I follow Yuba’s short frame into the forest. Cassandra stands firmly in place.

“What are you doing?” she whispers in my ear.

“I’m following Yuba.” Not sure why she’s confused seeing as that’s what we were told to do.

“In there? The Blue Forest?”

“There’s nothing scary about a forest.” I basically grew up in the forest next to my cottage.

Cassandra takes a deep breath.

And for once, the Evers follow my lead.

“No need to be frightened,” Yuba says conversationally when we all reach him. “I have a success rate of nine per Forest Group.”

“There are ten of us.”

“Indeed.”

We move deeper and deeper into the forest. I can’t deny that this one is scarier than the one back at home maybe because there’s something so unfamiliar about it. The plants seem almost sentient and I catch a few of the animals walking on their hind legs before they see us coming.

Yuba points to things here and there: plants that are good for eating, trees that are good for climbing. He even gives us ways to tell which plants and animals are Good and which ones are Evil.

“We’ll go more in depth at a later date, but all the animals here are mogrified students. Some of the plants are as well.”

I wince but I think I’m the only one.

“The Good animals still possess some Good behaviors. See that rabbit looking at himself in the water?” He gestures to a rabbit close to us. When it catches us staring, the rabbit jumps at least ten feet into the air and scrambles away. “If you become mogrifs, you must be able to tell your own. If you become Leaders, you
must be able to tell which mogrifs will join you if you ask.”

Must we stay divided even after we become mogrifs?

The tour continues. The Evers stay together in one frightened clump. The Nevers follow them in a looser clump. They cackle together and chat loudly. They don’t seem scared at all.

“Do you think we can go back soon?” Cassandra asks me.

I look at the sky: afternoon. Maybe close to two or three? “Maybe. I’m not sure-”

Cassandra screams next to me.

Chapter Text

A megrim (because it has to be a megrim. It just has to. I can tell from the broken look on its face and its eyes that seem almost human.) runs out of the shadows, meets the group of students, and pounces. It prepares to rake its claws through the students and nobody can figure out who it is targetting or which school it went to.

Yuba shoots some sparks at it from his lit finger.

It lets out a heartbroken cry and retreats once more into the wilderness.

“Some of the mogrifs are placed here because they prove… unfit for a story.”

Probably because you turned them into animals just because their ranks were below average.

That’s going to be my future. That’s what I’ll become. A fresh wave of resentment settles in my stomach and my throat closes up. All I want to do is cry.

“Most students rise to the occasion when they are tracked. Others…” he drifts off. “Look at the time! Let’s go back to the School.”

All the students let out sighs of relief when we turn around and head back. Cassandra’s grip on my arm slackens.

But I keep looking back to the Blue Forest, to the trees that seem almost sentient and the animals that seem almost conscious. It didn’t feel like that back at home. I wish I could be home.

But I’m not home.

I’m at the School for Good.

And I’m here to be an Ever.

We emerge into the school and I have to squint my eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight. I brush some twigs and brambles off my dress and catch the other Evergirls doing the same.

‘How vain you've become here, how quickly. It has only been a few days, Rapunzel! When did you start caring about the twigs on your skirt?’

I see Eugene looking at me. I blush and look away.

“No challenge issued, no scores given,” Yuba says. The students stare at him with blank expressions. “You won’t get a rank for this class just yet. Go on to your last one.” A few students look disappointed, a few unclasp their hands and attempt a neutral look.

The Nevers and Evers exchange one last glare and we part ways.

“I don’t think I like Surviving Fairy Tales very much,” Cassandra says. Belle and Pascal nod in agreement.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I say.

“Seriously? Did you even see that crazy mogrif?”

That mogrif didn’t seem crazy to me. It didn’t seem like anything except a child fighting against being forgotten. I don’t say anything.

“Last class of the day,” Belle whispers in my ear before we enter.

I let out a relieved sigh. This day was probably one of the longest ones of my life.

“Welcome to Good Deeds, children,” Professor Dovey greets us and gestures for us to sit down in long rows of desks.

She continues with the usual speech: her class is the most important class of all, Evers who do well in her class go on to have the most memorable stories, her class is the pillar to being Good. Yadda yadda.

Mother Gothel used to say that Good Deeds were just Good’s way of thinking they were better than everyone else: ‘It’s in the name! Honestly, Good thinks that they are the only ones who can be selfless.’

I just sat behind my storybook when she said it. I knew she wouldn’t like hearing what I was thinking: “Maybe it’s because being selfless is a part of being Good. Maybe that’s why Good wins so much.” But I was young then. Mother still had hope I’d turn out Evil.

I wonder what I would say if we had the conversation now.

But I don’t have time to think about it too hard because Professor Dovey is walking down the rows of desks, distributing a large packet at each one. It makes me think of school back home where we were given tests focused on memorization not Goodness or talent or beauty.

The rest of the class lets out groans of annoyance.

“None of that, children. It’s just a short quiz to see what you all know. I’ll give you the rest of class time and your ranks will be given based on how many each of you get right.

I glance down at the first page of the packet. It’s void of any questions, just bold brown letters: Good Deeds Quiz #1.

And on the line below that: Name:____.

Professor Dovey points her wand at a drawer on her desk. Pencils fly out of it and one goes to each desk. I take mine and place it down on the paper to write my name: Rapunzel Goth- on second thought… I erase the markings of my last name. The letters remain, so faint they are almost invisible.

“You can begin.”

A large crystal hourglass on Professor Dovey’s desk is turned without her touching it and our time starts. She takes a book out of her bag and puts on her reading glasses.

The questions materialize on the paper. I look at the first one:

You are walking through the woods and see a person leaning against a tree. They appear to be hurt and ask you for food. You have food in your bag with a first aid kit. Do you…

A) Give them the food in your bag and try to heal them with the first aid kit. Then continue on your way.

B) Pretend you didn’t hear them and get away as fast as you can. They could be a Never!

C) Hand them some of your food and get away as fast as you can.

D) Help them get to the nearest town.

E) Hand them all your food, try to heal them with your first aid kit, then help them get to the nearest town.

I look around and see other Evers shading in dots, periodically trying to steal glances at each other’s papers and covering their own with their hands.

I circle E and move on to the next question.

Chapter Text

All the questions (one hundred in all) are mostly similar. One of them involves an old nun, another involves a never and the best way to catch mice in a castle.

I guess on most of them because I’m not sure what the other Princesses would say or what Professor Dovey is looking for. I stare at the hour glass when I reach the end of my booklet, waiting for each grain of sand to fall to the bottom so this long day can finally be over.

When the last grain finally falls, Professor Dovey claps her hands for our attention. “Please put down your pencils!”

The Evers who are still working do as they are told with sullen expressions. Some of them let out disappointed sighs.

She waves her wand and the booklets that are still open close on their own and arrange themselves into a neat stack on her desk. There is silence as she sits down and rifles quickly through each one marking up wrong answers and muttering to herself, shaking her head. “They get worse and worse every year.” I hear her mutter.

Is she talking about me?

When she finishes with the last booklet, she gives a long sigh before waving her wand. The graded booklets are returned to us.

“You’ll see your scores at the top. Ranks will be given out shortly but I’m sure you’ll be able to guess what rank you recieve depending on your score.”

There is silence but for the rifling of paper, the occasional burst of outrage, and quiet muttering.

I take a deep breath before looking down: 97/100. I glance at the person next to me. They raise their eyebrows at me and turn a page so their score is out of view.

I suppose that’s fair.

After a few more tense seconds where everyone tries to sneak peeks at everyone else’s papers while hiding their own from view, marks errupt above our heads.

They’re all expected, Mary: 1. Cassandra: 5. They’ve scored well. That’s good.

Belle: 30. She lets out a small scream and looks around to make sure nobody saw. She waves it out of the air as fast as she possibly can.

Me: 2. The silver number sparkles acusingly from the top of my head.

The cries of outrage at my rank, expected by this point, take on a new meaning.

“Oh, so the Never taught a Princess how to be Good now?”

“There’s no way she got so many questions right. There’s just no way.”

Why is it so hard to believe that I could be Good? Why is it so hard to believe that someone Evil could create someone Good?

‘How do you know it was me who made you Good?’

Come on, Mother. I’m just making things up now. You’d never say that.

‘I wanted you to be like me. Didn’t you want to be like me too?’

“‘Only the best Evil can pretend to be Good.’ Don’t you see? She’s so Evil she even fooled the Schoolmaster! She’s a spy! She’s trying to trick us!”

“Honestly!” That’s Professor Dovey’s voice now. Silence falls.“I am ashamed that Evers handpicked by the Schoolmaster himself would try to outcast one of their own. You should be ashamed as well.”

I don’t want to be the student that professors constantly have to defend.

I don’t want to be the outcast or the weirdo that doesn’t belong here.

Pascal puts his hand on my shoulder. He moves his head in the direction of the door. “Do you want to get out of here?”

I nod though we can’t ever escape this place fully and attempt a smile. Though my mouth has made the shape often, it feels like I’m folding a piece of paper or loosening dirt outside that has never been planted it before: unnatural and strange.

With one wave from my hand, the number above my head disappears.

“I swear, with every one of those scores I feel like the Schoolmaster is just making fun of me!” We’re outside now, on Good’s patch of grass but facing the School for Evil. I place my finger in the cool river. Fish swim from all sides to meet me. I run my hand gently along their backs.

Pascal laughs. “What makes you say that?”

“He chooses the ranks, doesn’t he? He’s the reason I’m here and not back at home.” I take my hand out of the water. The fish go back to their predetermined paths.

“Maybe he just likes you.” He streches his legs out the way teenage boys do when they’re only just realizing how long their bodies have become. He runs his fingers through his red hair absentmindedly.

“I highly doubt it.”

“What do you miss the most from back home?”

The question surprises me. Nobody talks about home here, unless they’re royals talking about faraway lands they hope to do proud.

“I don’t know,” I say because I know I’m not supposed to say what I really miss. Or who.

“I miss my friends.” Pascal folds his legs into his chest to try and make himself small. “I miss not having some kind of predetermined purpose, not having to fight.”

“I thought you grew up in a Never town?”

He snorts. “Come on, Rapunzel. You should know better than anyone that Nevers aren’t all mean. It’s just Evers from the school they hate.”

Does that mean Mother hates me now? Did she hate me ever since I got the letter?

“I miss not having to pick sides. I miss home. We had a garden. Mother will be weeding now.” She has double the work now that I’m gone.

“You had a garden?”

“Mother did. Fruit and vegetables and flowers and herbs. She used to sell them in the village until word got out she was a Never. People got scared she would poison them.”

I remember her snorting when she overheard the rumor. “Rule number one of Evil, Rapunzel. Know who’s worth poisoning.”

Chapter Text

When Belle remarks that we’ve been at the School for Good for almost a week now, I almost spit out my lunch.

“No way! We just got here!” It has gotten more manageable I think. It’s the same schedule every day, the same teachers. It’s a bit easier now that we know what to expect.

“I mean, a week isn’t that long,” Cassandra says.

“It feels long,” says Pascal.

“It’s long in the fairy tale world,” Belle adds.

It’s true. In a week, the Storian can write five stories, maybe even ten. It’s also possible a week could go by and no stories are written at all. “We’re not in the fairy tale world yet, are we?”

“We must be.”

‘You entered the fairy tale world the second you left my house.’

I don’t know why that idea is so scary.

“Hey, Evers!”

All four of us look up, trying to locate the voice.

I’m the first one who sees them, a tall Never crossing their arms and staring at us with an expression that I can’t quite place.

Belle sees her next. “Donna,” she whispers to us. The Never from Gavalon. “What do you want?” she calls out.

“Oh.” Donna’s expression turns to something almost wistful. She looks at a group of Nevers sitting on a picnic blanket who sneak glances at us when they think we’re not looking and then whisper to
each other behind their hands.

“Can I sit with you guys?” she asks. We look at each other in surprise. “The Nevers are being mean to me.”

Belle sucks in a breath, opens her mouth, glances at me, and says nothing.

I roll my eyes. “Of course you can.” Maybe not all the Nevers and Evers have to hate each other here.

Cassandra and Pascal follow my lead, adjusting their seats to make space under our tree. Belle remains silent, twisting her pink uniform in her hands.

Donna looks surprised. Did she think we would say no? Why would she ask then?

She looks back at the crew of Nevers who are now staring shamelessly at her.

There is a moment of silence.

“You would actually let me?”

I’m not sure I understand the question. “Yes..?”

Belle clears her throat like she wants to say something else but she doesn’t. Donna looks at her and then back at the crew of Nevers.

She lets out a forced, barking laugh.

Cassandra and Pascal stiffen. Belle goes back to her food.

“You actually thought I’d ask to sit with you?” She looks back at the Nevers, making sure they are watching.

My face burns bright red.

Her voice turns mocking. “Oh, I’m a poor little Never. My friends are mean to me. Oh man, they all said you were a joke, an Ever raised by a Never. An Ever separated from the war. I didn’t think they
were right.”

Belle stands up and steps closer to Donna. Though she is shorter, she faces the Reader with an expression that makes me shiver despite myself. “You know, I thought being a part of something bigger than you would make you treat people with more respect but I guess I was wrong.”

Donna steps back. Belle takes two more steps to be even closer.

All conversations have ceased. Nevers and Evers alike look at Belle and Donna with awe.

“Your exploits back in Gavalon got you here, but you stay away from my friends. Save your disrespect for your nemesis or so help me-”

“Belle. Save it.” I can see Donna’s face growing embarrassed, growing angry. I know what happens when Nevers are angry. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Rapunzel. You have got to stop letting people walk all over you!” She’s mad at me now. Why is she mad at me?

“Don’t act like you’re so Good, Belle,” Donna says with a bite of the tongue. “You told me yourself you didn’t care which school you went to so long as it brought you glory. Remember that? Or did you forget everything from before you came here? You did if how quickly you forgot about me is any indication.”

“I’m nothing like you. I’m Good!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Leave us alone!” I’ve never seen Belle so panicked, so angry.

Donna goes to her crew of Nevers. They welcome her back and go about their conversation as if nothing happened. It almost makes me think that they were never mean to her in the first place. But maybe Nevers fight with differently than what I’m used to.

Mary keeps staring at me long after everyone goes back to their conversations. Her gaze isn’t the angry one I’m used to. Instead, it looks neutral, almost curious.

From next to Mary, Eugene keeps looking at me too. He catches me looking back and gives me a charming grin.

No, not charming. Just a grin. You know? Just a smile between friends.

The Prince on Eugene’s other side is looking at Belle, his face more interested than I’ve seen anyone’s yet. I nudge her and nod in his direction.

She blushes and shakes her head.

“Is she always like that?” Cassandra asks neutrally, nodding in Donna’s direction.

Belle lets out a loud sigh. “She’s just manipulative and mean. Don’t turn it into a huge deal. If you do she’ll keep annoying us just for attention.”

“And what about… what she said to you?” Pascal asks. I shake my head, eyes wide as I look from him to Belle. What will she say? I can already imagine her tears, her shouts, just like Mother did
whenever I asked her about the School for Evil.

For just a moment, it looks like Belle is somewhere else. “It’s not true,” she says, loud enough that a few Evers glance at us curiously. “She’s just a Never. Nevers lie. That’s just what they do.”

Chapter Text

Despite what Donna said being “not true”, Belle is quiet for the rest of the day. Nothing we say will get her back to normal.

Not that any of us are trying too hard. We’re a bit too stressed about our first “evaluation”.

I swear, whenever they mention our first “Snow Ball”, the mood of the whole room changes. Half the Princesses burst into dramatic tears while the Princes just stare at one another anxiously.

And I’m not just saying that. It’s been mentioned five times already.

They’re right to worry. If a Princess doesn’t have a date, she’ll receive five Failing ranks on the spot.

Princes only get half as many. How is that fair?

And to make matters worse, the Princes have to be the ones who ask the girls to the ball, not the other way around.

But I can’t question it, obviously. Everyone already questions my right to be here at least ten times a day.

“What are you wearing?” all the Princesses as each other. It’s really the only thing we can control. Seamstresses will make our gowns but the Princesses are responsible for designing them ourselves. I’m completely hopeless, obviously. Mother always gave me whatever outfits she could find and mended them when they ripped.

And Professor Anemone is no help during Beautification. She talks about designing gowns like all that’s left to do is to know what colors go well together and whether to wear gold jewelry or silver.

~~~~~

I’m sitting on my bed when I rip another half-finished drawing out of my notebook and crumple it up, tossing it into the overflowing garbage bin.

I turn over and scream into my pillow.

Mary comes out of the shower and rolls her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to design my dress for the Snow Ball.”

She lets out a noncommittal hum. Her dress is already designed. The pictures are taped to the wall next to her bed, sketched with pencil and colored a deep red by colored pencils. Two side views are represented as well as a detailed and labeled front and back.

It’s beautiful.

She catches me staring and moves over to the wall, subtly blocking her drawings from my view. “Any idea who your date will be?”

Eugene’s face flashes in my mind. “No. You?”

“Eugene.” She lets out a dreamy sigh and twirls in a circle.

There’s a pang in my stomach, like someone’s punched the wind out of it. “He’s asked you?”

“Not yet. He’s probably waiting until it’s closer to the Ball.”

I go back to my drawing. No matter what I try, it’s horrible. The colors don’t match. The sleeves are too long. The skirt is too short.

“Let me see,” Mary says.

Surprised, I hand over the sketchbook.

She stares at it for a moment. “This is really bad.”

I let out a groan. “I know! Why do you think I’ve been trying to redo it?”

“No, no, sorry. That was rude.” She rips the page out of the sketchbook. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Riiiip. Without another word, the page is crumpled and thrown into the garbage.

Mary goes over to her desk and takes out a set of colored pencils. “You like flowers right? How about something floral?”

“Sure.”

“And when we did color analysis in Beautification. You had purple and gold if I remember correctly.”

“Yes,” I say, surprised.

She starts sketching.

I comb my hair through my fingers just for something to do. It’s gotten longer. Mother normally cut it back at home, taking shears to my head when I was least expecting it and creating something that would make me cry every time I looked into the mirror for at least two weeks.

Who’s going to cut my hair now? I guess I could ask Professor Anemone…

“How’s this?” Mary asks eventually. I stand up to look.

“It’s… beautiful.” And it really is. Instead of a puffy ballgown, the skirt is just long enough that it’s formal, just short enough to be functional. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Just don’t tell everyone. Not all the Princesses are as hopeless as you are but they’ll still ask me to do it if they hear how good my designs are.”

“What about another color with the purple?”

“Do whatever you want, it’s your dress.”

~~~~~

Belle inspects the drawing from her horizontal position, lifting it at least ten inches above her face and then bringing it closer again. “Mary drew this for you?”

After Mary’s friends came to our room, I grabbed my sketchbook with a few books and retreated to Cassandra and Belle’s

“Yeah,” I say.

Cassandra steals a glance. “It’s beautiful.”

“I just think the color is a little plain.” I settle at the foot of Cassandra’s bed. I like their room much better than mine. It feels so much friendlier.

“Well what color do you want it to be?” Cassandra asks.

“Red?” I’ve always liked red.

“You mean Dame Gothel’s signature color?”

I hadn’t thought of that. I bite my lip and glance down.

“Well, I do like the purple. That’s what you got in color analysis. Maybe just add something? To make it more exciting.”

Belle considers the drawing for a moment. “What about pink accents?”

“Sure, why not,” I say, grabbing Belle’s colored pencils.

“What are you drawing?” I ask her.

“Oh, it’s just a rough sketch now.” She holds up her picture: a long yellow ballgown, decked in pearls and golden fibers.

Ugh, I thought at least one person might be having as much trouble as me. Even the Reader knows what she’s doing.

But that’s nothing new. The other Evers and even the Nevers look at me like I’m a freak most of the time, but Belle manages to fit in even though she’s not even from here.

Maybe, if I can do well at the Snow Ball, people will finally look at me like I belong here.

~~~~~

Later that night, when Mary is fast asleep, I make a list in the back of my notebook:

How I’ll be accepted by the Evers:

1. Finish my dress

2. Find a date

3. Learn how to dance

4. Do something that won’t make them all look at me and only see my Mother.

I stare at the list for a moment, then slowly place a checkmark next to number one. Onto number two.

Chapter Text

“But I mean, do we need dates?” Cassandra asks over lunch one afternoon.

Pascal and I burst out laughing.

“Do WE need to answer that idiotic question?” Belle retorts with a scowl. She hasn’t been in a laughing mood lately. Maybe it’s because all our classes have gotten harder or because of the rumors Donna has been spreading about her.

It really is an idiotic question. Every single teacher tells the girls nothing except the importance of a date to the dance.

Life or death. That’s how everyone describes it. Five girls have already had panic attacks at the prospect of going to the Snow Ball alone.

But for me, it’s about more than that. If some Prince asks me to the dance, nobody will act like I don’t belong here.

The branches of our tree sway in a comforting way. If the graduate could still talk, they’d say it’s not needed, not really. Megrims don’t need Princes.

That’s a plus to being tracked as one I suppose.

I glance around at the other Princesses. Some of them are sitting next to Princes and all the couples look relieved at their good fortune.

Most of the girls are standing just close enough to the Princes that they can be seen, but just far enough away that the boys can pretend not to see them.

All the Nevers are laughing at us.

“It’s like they enjoy playing with us,” Belle says, crossing her arms.

The Prince who seems to have the most attention is Eugene. Not that I’m paying attention or anything…

While he tries to eat his lunch and talk to his friends, girls keep interrupting him and try to get his attention. It looks really annoying.

Not that I care about his annoyance or anything. Just, you know, trying to empathize.

Mary seems overly confident. Glaring at the other girls, she sits extra close to Eugene, nodding along to whatever is happening in his conversation. He doesn’t seem to pay her any heed though, constantly pulling his arm out of her grip. Her expression turns into something more than despair whenever he does so, something more like helplessness.

I don’t understand these boy things. How am I supposed to get a date when I don’t understand the rules that nobody bothers to say?

‘Because they’re useless, obviously.’

They aren’t useless. They’re the only way that I’ll be accepted here. How am I supposed to survive this war if I’m not even accepted by my own side?

“Who do you think I should ask?” Pascal asks, looking at the field of princesses.

Cassandra and Belle roll their eyes.

“Oh I don’t know,” Cassandra says. “Maybe ask whoever you want. Boys get to pick after all.”

“Not exactly…” he drifts off and we all pretend we can’t see how the Princesses are trying to get the attention of every boy except him.

“I’m sure there’s someone who wants to go with you,” Belle says kindly. “Just wait until all the other boys have asked girls out already, then they’ll see sense.”

Me and Cassandra exchange a look. It’s kind of hard to feel sympathetic for Pascal’s plight when he’s only facing half-ranks if he can’t find a girl willing to go with him.

Whereas I face failing ranks and the shame of knowing that I’ll never fit in, not ever.

“Rapunzel?” that’s a male voice, one that just appeared out of the distance and the sea of desperate Princesses.

Eugene.

Belle looks like her birthday came early. Cassandra fumes and sits on her knees as if she’s fighting the urge to grab me and whisk me away, far away from the Prince asking for my attention.

“Flynn Rider,” I say, trying to pretend like my heart isn’t tap dancing in my chest.

He blushes. “Eugene is fine. I’m sorry I said that before. It was…”

Around everyone else he seems so sure of himself, so cool, but here it’s like he’s scared of me, sheepish and small. Is it because of my outburst in History of Heroism? Does he even remember that? Or is it because he knows who my mother is and thinks I’ll turn out the same way?

‘What? Ashamed of your own mother? One handsome boy and you wish I never raised you?’ That’s not it, not really.

“It’s fine,” I interrupt. Pascal moves a few inches further and Belle holds two thumbs up.

All the other girls are staring at us with shocked expressions. Mary (who is sitting all alone now) glares at me with fire in her eyes.

“I was just wondering if…” he hesitates. “If I could sit with you?”

Oh. So it’s not… what I thought it was. “You think it amuld get those girls away?” I whisper.

He nods. I move over to make room for him between me and Cassandra.

Cassandra rolls her eyes and moves so she can be a few inches further away from him.

The only thing I can use to describe the group after Eugene sits down is awkward. Everyone is just eating their food in silence. Though me, Cassandra, and Belle exchange a few pointed looks, no conversation is exchanged between us after the new person enters our group.

There are eyes burning the back of my skull. I don’t turn around. I don’t want to give them the vindication.

“Have they stopped looking at you?” I lean in to whisper the question directly into his ear.

“Well,” he stops, considers. “They’re looking at us now. But at least nobody is trying to sit in my lap.”

I give a forced laugh. It’s kind of hard to focus on anything right now besides all the attention the girls are giving me now that Eugene has sat next to me. It’s not exactly positive and not exactly the attention I’m used to.

“When will they stop staring?” I ask.

“Why do you want them to stop?”

What kind of question is that? “I don’t like it when people stare at me. None of them think I belong here.”

“Maybe I can fix that. Them not thinking you belong here, I mean. They'd probably stare at you more, but-”

Chapter Text

Eugene Fitzherbert stands up and every Ever and Never, every mogrif and every teacher within a one hundred mile radius stares at us. It feels as though even the Storian is looking on.

“Rapunzel!” he starts.

Belle gives a little scream.

“Will you be my Princess for the Snow Ball?”

“I…” all the Evers are muttering now. I can hear snippets of their conversations:

“Her?”

“She’s not even a real Ever.”

“He could have any Princess he wants.”

“He wants her?”

“Why?”

Why?

Why?

Why?

I’ve been hesitating for too long. I can tell because Belle’s expression is morphing from delighted to vaguely confused.

Eugene hears the other people talking. His expression doesn’t change. Why doesn’t he care? All of these Evers are judging him and he doesn’t care? But now his face is falling, judging my silence as an adequate response. “It’s fine if you don’t,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just… Thought I’d ask, you know?”

“No!” Don’t leave. I don’t want him to go. Not now. “Yes, I’ll be your Princess for the Snow Ball.”

His face lights up. “Amazing!” He runs back to his friends. Some of them are shaking their heads, some are grinning and patting him on the back.

“Rapunzel!” Belle hugs me. “He asked you! He actually asked you!” She shakes my shoulders. “Am I dreaming?”

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Belle, why would it be you dreaming? If this is anyone’s dream, it’s Rapunzel’s. Or maybe it’s my worst nightmare. He said we didn’t have to talk at school when we got our letters. The little liar.”

We all laugh but I still apologize to Cassandra which makes Belle and Pascal laugh harder and makes her just shake her head at me in mock disappointment.

“So, Rapunzel has a date now.” Pascal says when we’re all done laughing. Just the thought of it makes me want to smile and dance circles around our tree.

~~~

Me and Eugene are dancing around the ballroom, me in my perfect purple dress and him in a tie of the same color. The other kids swoon but he has eyes for only me.

“How could we ever believe that she didn’t belong here?” The Evers are saying. “Anyone who Eugene likes, anyone who looks that beautiful, she could never be a Never.”

~~~

“You can’t go to the dance with Eugene!” My fantastical ballroom daydream washes away, leaving me in the unfriendly light of our dorm. Mary is standing over me with her arms crossed, her mouth in a frown and her eyebrows furrowed down in a scowl.

“Why, exactly?” I JUST crossed “Find a date to the Snow Ball.” off my list and I am not prepared to uncheck it without a fight.

“How many times do I have to tell you!” She seems really annoyed now. “Eugene is MY Prince!”

“Apparently not,” I say. “He asked me, you see? Just like how he threw his rose to me at the opening ceremony.”

“Oh, you think you belong here now that you have a date?”

I glance at my pitiful list, then at the piles and piles of roses on Mary’s dresser. I try to look back as quickly as possible, but she’s already caught my weakness.

“You do, don’t you? Well, let me tell you something.” She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to calm down. “Good is cruel and Good is mean. In order to be a Princess, you have to train your whole life to fit in. Why do you think Readers are lucky to be mogrifs?”

Belle’s face flashes in my mind. ‘I’ve wanted to come here my whole life, but now…’

“Belle won’t be a mogrif. She gets in the top ten every challenge.”

“An anomaly,” Mary retorts. “You think you can be Good just by being kind? Just by being pretty or generous? There are rules and responsibilities you will never understand because your Mother never taught you!”

“Well, nobody here will teach me either!” What is it with all these unspoken rules? All these norms and things everyone seems to know except me? Why couldn’t we all just start on the same page?

Her face falls into a sorry expression and she bites her lip.

“Why are you always so mean to me? You aren’t this mean to anyone else.” My voice cracks and two tears fall down my cheeks. I wipe them quickly away.

“I don’t know.” That’s not much of an answer. She looks at her manicured hands. “I’m jealous or something, of how easy you think it is. You don’t have a Kingdom at home counting on you. You could become a Mogrif and nobody would care.”

I snort. I would care very much. But it might be true that nobody else would.

“I have to be a Leader or else my entire Kingdom will fall apart. Corona has been attacking us for ages, trying to force us to surrender.” Her voice breaks. “If I can get the crown Prince to fall in love with me, to take me as his Princess, I could unite our Kingdoms. They could stop attacking us.” She looks at me, begging. “If you
tell him you won’t go to the Ball with him, if you give me one more chance, I’ll help you fit in here.”

“Do you love him?”

“Does it matter?”

I don’t know. I just know that if Mary goes around calling Eugene her Prince, if she’s trying to win him, even just for all her subjects who are counting on her… I
want to know if she at least gets that fluttering in her chest when she looks at him, if her face burns whenever he looks at her.

“I guess, I want to know if you’ll let him be happy.” If she expects me to give him up or something.

‘Why do you care so much for this boy?’ I don’t know. I don’t know.

“I could learn to. I could learn to love him. Is that good enough for you?” There are tears pricking her eyes now. I bite my lip and my heart threatens to jump out of my chest to a more worthy host. “You can have any other Prince you want, but my Kingdom depends on Eugene. Please don’t mess it up just because you’re selfish.”

Chapter Text

“You don’t want to go with me anymore?” I didn’t realize Eugene Fitzherbert could look so heartbroken. “Why?”

I tossed and turned all night, thinking about this moment. I wish being Good was as easy as Professor Dovey made it seem, as easy as filling in the right bubbles on a test.

I guessed at what Professor Dovey would say, so I cornered him in the hallway after History of Heroism, telling Cassandra, Belle, and Pascal to leave without me.

“There’s someone else…”

“Another boy?” he twists his hands together. “I understand. I did kind of throw it on you, asking in front of everyone. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you in private. I
know you don’t really like attention.”

“No!” This is going all wrong. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no other boy. There’s another girl… a girl who wants to go with you.”

“I’m sure plenty of other girls want to go to the Snow Ball with me.” He smirks at me. “Who cares? I asked you. There are dozens of Princes at this school.”

“Not this girl. This girl has to go with you.” This makes me want to throw up. Mother Gothel is screaming at me for my selflessness. Please, Mother. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Let me make my own mistakes. “She talked to me about it.”

“Who?” He grits his teeth, angry. I don’t want him to be angry. When Mother is angry, people disappear. I don’t want Mary to disappear. She doesn’t deserve that.

“Someone who has a lot more stakes in this than me.”

I don’t want to be Evil. I don’t want to be selfish. I just want to belong.

“Just tell me who it is.” When I hesitate, biting my lip, his face softens slightly. “I won’t be mad at them, I promise. I just want to know. She’s who you want me to go with, isn’t she? So, I have to know.”

“Well, okay.” I suppose that’s true. “It was Mary.”

When I sense him getting angry again, I rush to explain. “But it’s because she’s the Princess of a neighboring kingdom. She said Corona’s been attacking it and she wants to form an alliance.”

“By marrying me?” He asks, surprised. He didn’t know his partnership could have so much weight. “I didn’t even realize we were attacking anyone.”

“Well, she says that her kingdom won’t survive if it goes on for much longer.” I look at my feet.

“So that was why she keeps flirting with me. I thought…”

“That it was because you’re handsome?” I blurt. My face burns bright red and I want to run as far away as possible.

He offers me a grin that makes me feel like I’m melting into a little puddle at his feet. “That’s what I normally assume.”

“Just…” I wish this didn’t have to feel so awful. “Give her a chance, okay? Maybe you should have a Princess who needs it a bit more than me.”

“You need to belong here.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I can see that. I thought I could help.”

“I could have any Prince to belong. It doesn’t have to be you.” I just want it to be him. Really, really bad.

But Mary says she’ll help me belong.

‘How do you know she wasn’t lying? You don’t have something she wants anymore.’ I suppose I’ll have to take a chance on someone Good, Mother. Good people keep their word.

“Last chance to back out. Is this really what you want, Rapunzel?” Eugene says, desperate. “I don’t want to go with Mary. I want to go with you.”

I bite my lip, nodding. Oh, I want to cry. I want to cry so bad. I don’t.

“Fine.” His face falls. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He walks past me, bumping into my shoulder hard enough to bruise.

~~~~~

“What? You just told him you didn’t want to go?” Belle is staring at me, outraged.

I flop down on her bed, covering my face with my arm. “Yes.”

Cassandra dots a period on a homework assignment. “So what you’re saying is we’re all back to step one? None of us have dates now.”

“Well, not step one.” They’re making me feel unnecessarily guilty about this, as if I could feel any worse. “We all have dresses now, don’t we?”

“You might.” She nods at the desk, littered with crossed out drawings of her in elaborate ball gowns. “I already asked Professor Anemone if I could wear pants to the Ball.”

“And?”

“Guess.”

I don’t bother. All three of us knew the answer before Cassandra bothered asking.

Knocking echos from the closed door.

“Do people even do that here?” Belle asks. The doors don’t have locks. It’s supposed to discourage any girls and boys wanting to have… privacy.

“Mary’s friends always knock.”

Belle snorts. “That’s just because they want to make sure you’re not there.”

Knockknockknock.

I stand to open the door.

Pascal stands in front of me, hands over his eyes. “I’m not looking! I’m not looking!”

“What do you even think we’re doing?”

“You’re not allowed to be in the girl’s dorms,” Cassandra says at the same time.

“Exactly, so could you let me in? The fairies are doing patrol.”

I open the door wider.

“We are going to get in so much trouble for this,” Cassandra warns. She moves over a bit to give Pascal a space next to her.

“I heard what happened.”

“Is it all over the school now?” It’s only been a few hours.

Pascal hesitates.

“You can tell me.”

“Eugene asked Mary to the Snow Ball. He cornered her after you three left dinner.”

“That was fast.” I’m not disappointed. I’m not allowed to be disappointed. He’s literally doing what I asked him to do.

“I told you he was horrible.” Cassandra opens another book, copying a few lines. “You’ll find someone better.”

“We don’t have much time left,” Belle says. She looks out the window at the dying sun.

“We have at least a month. That’s enough time.” It has to be.

Chapter Text

Two weeks go by. No boys even look in our direction. Meanwhile, most of the girls are walking down the hallways hand-in-hand with Princes. I’m starting to think a month is not enough time.

One afternoon, I can’t escape to Cassandra and Belle’s room because Cassandra wants to spy on the Princes sword-fighting in the Groom Room and Belle wants to study in the library. Mary’s friends are in our room, the ones that glare at me whenever we make eye contact. I’m trying to read my storybook in order to ignore whatever it is they’re talking about.

But it’s extremely difficult.

Mary’s friend group consists of four people. Since they’ve never introduced themselves to me, I call the twins with long silky black hair “those identical twins” and the other girl “Cinderella” because, with her long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, she looks like every portrait of Cinderella I’ve ever seen.

“Mike and I are planning on wearing blue,” Cinderella says. I put my book closer to my face. No use.

“Oh, that would look amazing with his darker hair and your eyes…” one of the twins says.

Which one is Mike again? I think it’s one of Eugene’s friends, the one with black hair and eyes like coal. Ugh, it would be so awkward if a boy asks me to the Snow Ball and I don’t even know his name.

“What do you think, Rapunzel?” asks Mary. What is she playing at? Her friend glares at her for even trying to include me in the discussion.

“Sorry?” Even in this small room, I don’t want them to think I was eavesdropping.

“What do you think about blue for Tracy and Mike?”

Tracy! That was her name. “That sounds good, with your eyes.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Mary says while Tracy shows her the sketch she was working on. “But the sketch might be a bit too revealing for you.”

“Why?”

There is silence. The other girls look at each other like they know something Tracy doesn’t. I can’t imagine what it is.

“You know…”

“No! I don’t actually,” she sounds angry now. I don’t know why. “But please enlighten me.”

“Tracy,” one of the twins steps in, placing her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “She’s just saying you’re not the lightest person. She doesn’t mean
anything by it.”

Tracy has a frame that would make Mother skip over her when she offers second helpings at dinner. I always thought that Evers were kind to everyone no matter what they looked like.

“Can’t I wear whatever I want?”

“Yes…” Mary hesitates. “I just want you to wear something that would flatter you. That’s all I’m saying.”

Something tells me that’s not all Mary was saying.

~~~~~

When the girls finally leave, Mary lets out a long sigh.

“What’s wrong?” I ask hesitantly. Everything’s hesitant since I gave up Eugene.

“I’m sorry I stole your Prince. You don’t have a date and there’s two weeks to go.” Don’t remind me, I want to say. “I feel awful.”

I look at her in surprise. Of all the reactions to my decision, the one I was not expecting was an apology. “It’s… fine.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t Good. I honestly wasn’t expecting you to do anything. I just wanted to remember that I tried.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me go to the ball with him?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because that ball could be my chance to get him to fall in love with me and then my Kingdom wouldn’t be doomed.” She’s putting quite a lot of stakes into this ball.

“Of course.” What does my life matter in terms of a whole kingdom? “It’s just…” I hesitate.

“What?”

“I thought Eugene would help everyone finally accept me,” the words come out in a whisper.

Mary is silent for long enough that I think she didn’t hear me. “It’s not you. It’s your mom. Nevers don’t come to the School for Good. You can see why it’s making everyone uncomfortable.”

“I’m not a Never.” Why am I the only one who has to keep saying it? I got the same letter everyone else did.

“Your Mother is one. We’re royals. Goodness is genetic. That’s just how it works.”

I could tell her that I’m adopted. It would be so easy. Maybe they would all accept me then. I’m not ready to reject her so harshly just yet.

“Do you think I’ll ever be accepted here?” I flop into my bed.

Mary glances in the mirror next to her bed. She brushes her braids between her fingers. “I can talk to the other Evers. I can tell them you’re all right. I owe that to you after what you did.” She gives a long, drawn-out sigh. “But you can’t force them to accept you. I can’t stop a war.”

~~~~~

“Professor Dovey, let me help you with that.” Cassandra, Pascal, and Belle look at me with their heads cocked to the side and their eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. I give them no answer, just gesture for them to move along.

Professor Dovey gives me a little chuckle. “I do hope you’re not trying to waste your homework assignment on me.” Regardless, she hands me an extra rag. I begin mimicking her motions, wiping the blackboard clean of chalk. “Unless you have some sort of ulterior motive.”

“Me?” My voice goes up an octave. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, just your reaction when I suggested it.” She smiles and starts working on the higher corners I can’t quite reach. “I understand. Don’t worry, you can ask me anything.”

Anything? “Now that you mention it, there was something I wanted to ask you.” I search for the right words. “Has anyone ever left the School for Good and Evil? Like, been expelled or dropped out or… something?”

“An interesting question.” She drops her rag into the bucket and stretches, looking down at me with a kind smile. “I wonder what sparked it.”

“Oh… just something I read in a storybook,” I lie.

“I’ve never heard of it, though students have been Failed before. Once you come to the School for Good and Evil, you are a part of the war until
you die.”

Chapter Text

“So, it’s impossible to leave after you come? Once you get the invite, you’re in forever?”

“Yes. Those students invited are the chosen representatives to fight. The Schoolmaster works with the Storian, I believe. I don’t know much about the process though.”

But- But- “I thought you wanted the war to end!” Will I never see Mother again? I’ll get no date to the Snow Ball because I gave up Eugene to Mary. I get my five failing ranks for having no date to the ball and then become a Mogrif, if I’m not Failed.

“The war can’t end, Rapunzel,” Professor Dovey says like she is speaking with compassion to some very confused person. “Our world cannot exist without the war.”

“Is it possible to talk to the Schoolmaster?” The Schoolmaster can break the rules. Maybe I can convince the Schoolmaster that he doesn’t want me anymore.

~~~~~

“Talk to the Schoolmaster?” she lets out a forced chuckle. “Why would you want to do such a thing? What would you bother such a man with?”

“What if I wanted to ask him something, a question?”

“If you have a question, you can ask any one of your teachers. I guarantee we’ll have some sort of answer. The Schoolmaster is a private person, Rapunzel. He does not take time out of his busy day to speak to mere students.”

“Has he ever?”

“There were times… long ago.” Her voice drifts off, remembering some long-forgotten time when the Schoolmaster was kind. “Not anymore. Now the only way to
see the Schoolmaster is if you’re Failed. And nobody knows what happens after.”

An idea forms in my head. A way out. “Thank you, Professor Dovey!” I embrace her and she hugs me back.

“What-”

But I’m already gone.

~~~~~

I start my quest when there are three classes to go until the end of the day. Then I won’t mess Cassandra or Belle up because they’re sad about me leaving.

Beautification: I normally try my best to do what Professor Anenome tells me to do. Regardless, it’s always my worst class. I just can’t figure out how makeup is supposed to work or how I’m supposed to do my hair. I like it in waves anyway.

Today, Cassandra and Belle look at me with wide, confused eyes. I’ve never applied makeup this badly. It’s kind of fun, honestly, caking as much powder as
possible onto my brush and pressing lipstick anywhere except where it’s supposed to go.

Mary looks at me and rolls her eyes. At least she’s not questioning anything.

When we look up from our mirrors to present what we’ve done, Professor Anenome looks at me and screams. Our ranks erupt above our heads. I look at mine: 20.

Two to go.

Cassandra and Belle ask me questions all through lunch. I hardly ever fail that badly. I feign innocence. “I was trying my best. I don’t know what happened.”

They assume I’m just heartbroken about Eugene.

Surviving Fairy Tales: It’s not hard to do badly there. Though the Blue Forest feels the most like home to me out of any other place at the School for Good, I pretend to be as scared as everyone else.

We’re told to find edible plants and I make sure to pick up only the most poisonous ones.

Yuba almost cries in despair. His best student? A failure? I grin. Ranks go up: 20.

One to go.

Good Deeds is the one I’m the most nervous for. Good Deeds is my best class by far. If I don’t get another failing rank, I’ll go straight back to the beginning. It won’t be long before people start to get suspicious.

For all the other classes, I know exactly how I’m supposed to fail: just don’t try as hard. In Good Deeds, I don’t have to try. I don’t even know what the right answers are half the time or how I score so high.

We’re taking another test. A written one similar to the one we took on the first day.

Question 1:

A girl insults herself in a joking manner, clearly expecting you to laugh along. Do you

a) Laugh with her.

b) Agree with her.

c) Correct her gently, telling her that what she’s saying about herself is hurtful and isn’t true.

d) Yell at her. Nobody should talk about themselves like that!

My hand moves to circle c. That seems like the right answer. But I don’t want to fill in the right answer. I read through all the answers again. A and D don’t seem that bad. B seems like the worst thing to do.

I slowly circle “b”. The mark stays for a second, then shifts by itself to “c”. What? I erase the circle and circle “b” again. The same thing happens.

That’s weird, but weird things happen here all the time. I move onto the next question.

Question 2:

Someone is crying because they couldn’t get a date to the Snow Ball. Should you:

a) Comfort them.

b) Offer possible date suggestions.

c) Ignore them. It’s their fault they couldn’t get a date.

d) Offer to go with them even though you’ve already said you were going with someone.

This time, “a” is the right answer. I can’t pick it. I choose another answer at random and circle it.

This time, the circle shifts up to “a.” What? What kind of test is this? I try erasing it again and picking a different answer. The circle moves up again.

Now, I’m close to tears. This is not going according to plan.

Another question.

I want to choose “b,” but I circle “c” instead. The circle moves up to “b.” I glance up at Professor Dovey. She’s staring straight at me.

“Professor Dovey,” Mary says tentatively. “I think there’s something wrong with my test. It keeps changing my answers.”

“Mine too,” a quiet girl I never got the name of says.

“So’s mine,” says a boy.

I murmur that mine is like that too and a couple of other kids agree with me, still others look from us to their test booklets with confused expressions.

“There’s nothing wrong with them,” Professor Dovey says calmly. “I’ve been hearing about insincerity in past challenges. I enchanted the test booklets to make sure that wouldn’t happen here. Your answers will change themselves to what you would do.”

Chapter Text

Some people look down at their test guiltily. Some take deep breaths, trying to calm themselves down. Some kids let out cries of outrage.

I start panicking. There’s no way I can fake something like this. No matter what I say, it’ll just change to the answer I truly think is correct.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re all so angry about this.” Professor Dovey says. “The charm should not be an issue considering how honesty is one of the main
pillars of Goodness. All I told you to do is answer the questions with what you would do. As long as you do that, there shouldn’t be any issues.”

There is a chorus of grumbling, but everyone goes back to their test and the room falls into anxious silence once more. Every so often there is a moment of furious erasing before the person in question gives up and moves on.

I don’t pick up my pencil, instead staring at my test in silence.

The plan was easy. Fail on purpose. This would make three and then I’d go and see the Schoolmaster and be expelled.

But now with my test correcting itself… That is, assuming that my first instinct will be the correct answer. I wasn’t raised by a Queen or a King like everyone else was. Maybe the thing I think is Good isn’t right in the first place. It would just be one more thing about me that’s messed up. But I don’t want to risk it.

Maybe if I just leave the questions blank…

Professor Dovey is staring at me again. When we make eye contact, she gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I spend a moment trying to form the smile we were taught in Beautification before giving up and pretending to focus on the test questions.

I pretend like I’m just taking notes by scribbling on the margins. Ages go by and every grain of sand in the timer falls to the bottom. Professor Dovey waves her wand and the booklets fly to her. She checks the answers faster than normal and they fly back to each of us in turn.

I look at mine: one hundred and “SEE ME AFTER CLASS” scribbled below it. I bite my lip and stare up at Professor Dovey. Her face betrays nothing.

A shimmering one appears above my head. Tears prick my eyes. What am I supposed to do now? There’s no way I’ll go home.

“You all can go,” says Professor Dovey. The kids leave in groups, talking in outraged whispers. I nod to Cassandra and Belle to go without me. My heart feels like it’s coming out of my chest and the food I ate for lunch feels like it’s coming out of my throat.

“Rapunzel,” she starts.

I close my eyes and tilt my head down, preparing for the worst.

“Are you quite all right?”

I glance up in surprise. “Sorry?”

‘Well, that’s no way to apologize. It’s no way to be sent home either.’

“Your other teachers say you haven’t been up to your usual standard in challenges. I heard that you and Prince Eugene are no longer going to the Snow Ball
together.”

“You and the other teachers talk about me?”

“We discuss all our students.”

Back at home, the teachers didn’t even talk to us. They would lecture and we would sit in silence, trying to take notes and understand as much information as we could but not caring if we didn’t.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you certain? I understand this is a stressful time for all the Evers. Your first examination is coming up and trackings are looming ever closer. Your destiny won’t be undetermined for much longer.”

Like I need another reminder that I’m destined to become a plant. Or an animal if I’m lucky.

“I’m sorry, I see that I’ve upset you.” Her mouth forms a frown. “It’s just that you seemed distressed during today’s test and you’re normally so confident in this
class.”

“I’m sorry.”

‘That’s a bit better, I suppose.’

“I wish you’d tell me what’s troubling you. You’re not working to your usual standard.”

What’s troubling me? “I don’t-”

“Well, take your time. If you don’t want to talk to anyone, you can leave but my door is always open, I promise.”

I don’t know what does it. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s always been nice to me, always been welcoming. She’s never treated me differently than all the other Evers. I let the tears fall and embrace her like she’s Mother Gothel. She gently wraps her arms around me. “Eugene didn’t break up with me. I asked him not to go to the
Snow Ball with me because Mary wanted to go with him.”

Professor Dovey’s brows are furrowed in confusion. “While I admire your kindness Rapunzel, I doubt Mary is a good enough reason to break up with a boy. If you break up with every Prince another girl likes, you’ll have no hope of finding a date.”

“It’s not that,” I insist. “She had a good reason.”

“That’s not the reason you haven’t been trying in class.” Not a question. “Is it related to the question you asked me yesterday?”

“I-”

“You can tell me, but there’s no pressure.”

“I was trying to be Failed so I can go home.” Tears prick my eyes. I look away.

“Oh, Rapunzel.” Her voice is quiet. She kneels and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, my dear. Failed students don’t go home.”

“What? Then what happens to them?”

She bites her lip. “Don’t Fail on purpose. It will be much worse for you than becoming a mogrif.”

So there’s no way out.

“Why did you want to go home? The Schoolmaster gave you the highest honor that exists in our world.”

Chapter Text

Mother Gothel always said the School for Evil ruined her life. The letter destroyed everything she ever had. That’s what she used to tell me anyway.

“I don’t want to fight in this war,” I hear myself saying. “I’m not a soldier. I just want to go home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Rapunzel.” Professor Dovey places her hand on my shoulder. “But you can’t go home. You belong to the Schoolmaster now. You belong to Good.”

Warm tears fall down my cheeks. I don’t want to belong to anybody.

“One day, you will find it comforting. You are an Ever even if nobody thinks you are. You are Good even if nobody accepts you.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better. I never wanted to be an Ever. I dreamed about it, I suppose, but I never wanted to be some Princess. Why should I belong to a group where nobody accepts me? “All right then,” I croak. “Thanks for asking after me.”

“Of course,” she still looks sad. “If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m in your corner, you know.”

“Thank you,” I say because I know she’s trying to be nice. I don’t bother thinking that the only person who I’ve ever needed in my corner is Mother Gothel.

I leave the room, unable to believe that I’m still standing after my last small piece of hope was destroyed.

I’m Good. And I’m Good forever.

And there’s nothing that anyone can do about it.

~~~~~

“You what!?” Cassandra exclaims.

I wince. I’ve already repeated myself three times. “I was trying to Fail three times in a row so I could be expelled and go home.”

“Why?” Pascal asks.

“Come on, Pascal. Isn’t it obvious?” Belle finally speaks up. “She’s upset because she regrets breaking up with Eugene just for Mary.”

Cassandra scoffs. “Of course she regrets it. It was stupid.”

Thanks for respecting my decisions, Cassandra.

“She had a good reason!”

“A reason you still won’t tell us,” she retorts.

I fall silent. I promised Mary I wouldn’t tell anyone.

Belle continues as if we never spoke. “And now everyone thinks Eugene changed his mind about going out with her because of her mom or something.”

I didn’t think about what everyone would think. I’m worse off than I was before I started trying to be Good.

“I guess that makes sense,” Cassandra concedes. “But it doesn’t make it right! You should’ve talked to us.”

“Sorry.” I’ve already said that five times.

“Thank the Storian Professor Dovey caught you. Dad always said that the people who are Failed are never seen again.”

I shouldn’t have assumed that the people who Failed were just expelled. “What happens to them?”

“Nobody knows.” Belle waves her hands in front of her in a spooky gesture. She giggles and I offer a small smile. “That’s what the people at Gavalon said anyway,
but I always thought it was just a rumor to make up for the kids who disappear and then don’t find their way into the fairy tales. Of course, for Readers you’re never
seen again regardless of your track.”

“Ugh, let’s stop talking about that,” Cassandra says, grimacing. “Those Failed rumors always creep me out.”

“Sorry, Cassandra.”

We fall into silence. Belle removes her notebook from beneath her bed and continues working on her sketch. I take a peek.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“Do you know who you’re going with?”

She giggles. “Oh, it happened while you were talking to Professor Dovey.”

My heart starts beating fast and my skin goes slightly cold. Do Cassandra and Belle have some memory now, one that I’m not a part of? Are they going to have other memories together? Are they going to forget about me forever?

“Tell her Belle,” Cassandra says.

“Yes, please,” I say. I look at Belle expectantly.

“Cassandra and I were walking to class, and I was talking about how you were acting weird.”

I shift in my seat guiltily.

Belle doesn’t pay me any mind, too excited to tell her secret. “And then, if you would believe it, Gaston walks up to us.”

“Gaston?” I ask, confused.

“He was that Prince in History of Heroism on the first day. You remember?” Cassandra says, crossing her arms. “The one who didn’t let me do anything and called me a stupid Princess?”

“Hey,” Belle says, crossing her arms. “Watch it.”

“Not my fault he’s a misogynist.”

“The Storian is a mysoginist! And so’s the School for Good.”

“Whatever.”

Belle doesn’t let Cassandra deter her. “Anyways, he walks up to us.”

“Yes?”

“And Cassandra is glaring, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“She thinks he wants to talk to her.”

“I do not!” Cassandra butts in.

“Whatever. Anyways, he asks to talk to me privately.”

“And then,” Cassandra says. “I say that whatever he has to say to Belle can be said to the both of us.”

“And then, he asks me to the Snow Ball!”

“Oh, my Storian!” I shriek. We jump up and down for a moment, screaming and giggling and reveling in Belle’s good fortune.

“Well, that’s one of us down anyway,” I say when the excitement has all died down. “Three to go.”

“Two,” says Cassandra.

“No. You, me, and Pascal. That’s three.”

“Pascal’s a boy. He doesn’t need our help.”

“I do so!” Pascal, who was silent until this moment, speaks up and crosses his arms. “Can you think of a single Princess who’d be willing to go with me? They’d rather go with Rapunzel.” He turns to me. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I say with a little sigh. Was Eugene really my only chance?

Cassandra rolls her eyes. I guess it’s hard to empathize with a boy who doesn’t need a girl to notice him just to take her to the Ball.

Chapter Text

“Maybe I could help,” Pascal speaks up.

“Oh, really?” says Belle. “And how, exactly, are you supposed to help us get Princes?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” He says, rolling his eyes for some reason. “Let’s think.”

We think.

“Oh my Storian, you guys!” Pascal throws his hands up after just a few seconds. “I didn’t mean actually! Isn’t it obvious?”

“What?” Cassandra looks at him. “What could you do?”

“You need a boy to ask you. I’m a boy. I could ask one of you to the Snow Ball.”

“What?” I burst out laughing.

Cassandra and Belle consider Pascal like he’s a new story for sale at the bookshop.

“Come on,” I say, trying to talk some sense into them. “That’s rediculous.”

“No, it’s not,” Belle says. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“You can’t be seriously considering.” This whole time, I’d never thought of Pascal as some kind of option. He’s just… Pascal.

“Come on, Rapunzel. He needs a date to the dance. We also need dates to the dance. It’s the obvious solution.”

“Thank you!” Pascal’s face is pink now, probably embarrassed that he had to spell it out for us. “So, who shall I take?”

I laugh. “Well, I don’t know. Which of us do you want to take?”

His face burns brighter. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, he obviously should go with you, Rapunzel,” Cassandra says.

“Really?” I look at her in surprise. “But you haven’t even gotten asked yet!”

“Exactly. The Princes may not have ‘girl-code’ but they do pay attention to what the crown prince of Corona wants. He asked you out first. That’s why none of them have asked you yet.”

“That’s not why,” says Belle. “Not entirely, anyway. I think it’s because of her mom, and because they think Eugene must’ve broken up with her for a reason. I mean, most Princes don’t just ask a girl to the dance and then ask someone else a few days later.”

“I told him to do that, though,” I say.

“The boys don’t know that.”

“Either way,” Cassandra cuts in. “I still think that when it all comes down to it, a tomboy is more likely to get a date to the Snow Ball than the daughter of a Never who was dumped by Eugene Fitzherbert.”

“Fine then,” Pascal turns to me. “Rapunzel, will you go to the Snow Ball with me?”

“But-” my heart is pounding in my chest and my lunch is threatening to come up my throat. “Pascal, I don’t like you!”

His face falls. “What?”

“No! No! Not like-like, I mean,” I stammer trying to explain myself. I don’t like him how I like Eugene.

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Rapunzel. Does it matter?”

“Doesn’t it? We’re graded on compatibility.”

“So?”

Why do I have to spell it out for her. “So… the teachers will be able to tell that we’re not in love. We’ll get horrible marks.”

Pascal becomes fascinated in the pattern in the wood floor. Cassandra and Belle however, burst out laughing.

“Rapunzel,” Cassandra says with tears in her eyes. “Do you really think that all the Princes and Princesses the Storian has written about were in love like that?”

“Aren’t they?” I stare at each of them in confusion. “That’s how partnerships are supposed to work.”

“Not necessarily. Come on, Rapunzel. Was Little-Red in love with the huntsman?”

I had always thought that. He was her Prince, after all. I tell Belle and Cassandra so and they just shake their heads in disappointment.

“Come on,” says Belle. “I’m supposed to be the one who has to play catch up! I’m the Reader!”

My face burns and I look down. Why does she always feel the need to remind me how a Reader fits in here better than I do?

“It doesn’t matter,” Cassandra decides. “Princes and Princesses don’t need to be in love as long as they work well as a team. That’s what matters.”

“Do you love him?” I had asked Mary.

“Does it matter?” she’d answered.

I understand now. Ugh, I am so naive.

“I suppose that’s fine, then.” I hear myself say. As long as I have someone, I won’t be Failed.

‘Don’t you wish you could come home, Rapunzel? I never make you worry about boys or balls or dresses.’

Pascal lets out a sigh of relief. “Great. Now I don’t have to worry about finding a date either.”

Belle claps her hands together. “Oh, this is great! Pascal, do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“No.” He starts to look panicked again. “Am I supposed to?”

“That’s the Princess’s job.” I bite my lip, thinking. “But I won’t be any good at it. I’m horrible at designing things.”

“Oh! I can help!” Belle opens a new page of her sketchbook. “I have just the thing.”

Within a few minutes, Pascal and I are admiring Belle’s new creation.

It’s a rough sketch of Pascal in a creme blazer and matching creme shirt. He wears a tie the same shade of purple as my dress and it has the subtle printing of flowers just like the fabric on my skirt.

“It’s beautiful,” I say because it really is.

Pascal agrees, nodding.

“Thanks!” Belle rips out the page and hands it to me. I place it into my notebook for safekeeping and spot my list while I’m sifting through the pages.

How I’ll finally be accepted at the School for Good:

1. Finish my dress. (That one’s crossed off in a clean line.)

2. Find a date. (If I look closely, I can see the old mark of when I accepted Eugene’s invitation. Even closer and I can see the tearstains and the eraser marks, when I gave him up and erased the checkmark)

3. Learn how to dance.

4. Do something that won’t make them all look at me and only see my mother.

“Hey, Belle?” I speak up.

She glances at me. “What’s up?”

“Can I borrow a pencil?”

She tosses me one of her colored ones, the same shade of green as Pascal’s eyes.

I cross off number two on the list, trying to cover my erased pencil marks so I’ll never have to look at them again.

But the ghost of my old checkmark is still there.

Chapter Text

“No. Stop!” Mary yells.

The music in the corner screeches to a halt.

Pascal and I let go of each other’s hands. He gives a little sigh and we look over.

“How many times will I have to go over this step?” She walks over and demonstrates it for me once more, her arms out in front of her as if embracing an imaginary partner. “It’s more of a cross, with the left foot. And don’t take such big steps! You’re stepping on each other’s feet so much it’s giving me physical pain. It’s a waltz, not a race. Do it again! Music!” She yells to the fairies in the corner. Exchanging murderous looks with each other, they go back to playing.

Pascal glances anxiously at the door before we begin our dance once more. We had to wait until nobody was using it just to sneak Pascal into the Groom Room so we could use the small ballroom to practice.

If we’re caught, it could get all three of us in trouble, but Pascal most of all.

The fairies are supposed to tell on us, but they haven’t yet. It’s almost like they approve of these small acts of rebellion.

“Rapunzel, are you daydreaming again? You need to focus!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Pascal and I go back to dancing.

Mary goes back to yelling at us. “You need to actually listen to the music. Pascal is supposed to lead, not you Rapunzel. Yes, I know he’s not good enough to lead you. You’re not either. Just pretend like at least one of you knows what they’re doing. Not that much! Neither of you actually knows what you’re doing!”

When it feels like my arms and legs are about to fall off, Mary stops the music again and sends the fairies on a mission to find us something to drink.

“We should’ve brought water,” I pant.

“You should’ve.” Mary takes a swig from her own bottle. “I did tell you you’d be working up a sweat.”

“Seriously?” Pascal stares at her water like he’s in the desert and hasn’t had a drink in years. “Mind sharing?” He attempts a Eugene-like smirk. “You know the rule, if you bring something you have to share it with the whole class.”

Mary gives him a look of disgust. “That’s not a thing. Do you even know how many diseases are in your mouth? Ew.”

Pascal looks at me, silently begging.

Thankfully, the fairies arrive at that exact moment, carrying a crystal jug of some kind of pink drink paired with a small table and matching pink cups.

“Thank you,” I say.

The fairies look at me in fright and fly away. They always do that.

“Oh, pink lemonade! I haven’t had that in years.” Mary pours herself a cup.

Pascal glares at her.

She rolls her eyes and hands him the jug.

He pours himself a cup as well and lets out an appreciative hum.

“Pink lemonade?” I look at the mixture curiously. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Pascal chokes on his lemonade mid-drink and sets his cup down coughing. “What? You’ve never had pink lemonade? My parents used to make it every summer.”

“My maid used to make it for me.” Mary takes another sip and gazes off into space. “That was until my parents had to lay her off. She was my mom’s best friend at
school. I hope she’s all right.”

I tentatively pour myself a cup of lemonade and take a sip.

It’s too sour but when I take another sip it’s too sweet.

“It’s good.” I refill my cup. “Why is it pink?”

“Nobody knows,” Pascal says.

“Food coloring,” Mary says.

Pascal finishes his cup and refills it.

“I hope you guys aren’t thinking of standing around when there’s work to do!” Mary snatches the pitcher so we can’t refill our cups again. “When you finish that we’re running it again.”

I groan. “Come on, Mary! We’ve done enough.”

“Not enough to make up for the Princes and Princesses who’ve been learning how to dance their whole lives. They’ll get higher ranks than you once the challenges start happening and then say goodbye to having your own body when you graduate.”

“Why does dancing have to be so hard?” At home, dancing was makeshift instruments played by whoever was there. It was my hair flying in all directions and my skirt flying out beneath me as I twirled. It was Mother Goth’s smile and holding hands with all the other kids like I was one of them. Dancing was not about structure and unspoken rules and partners. Dancing was free.

“I have some horrible news for you.” Mary hands instruments back to the fairies. At this point, they look as enthused with arrangement as Pascal and I. “I’ve literally only taught you the waltz. That’s the easiest one.”

Pascal pretends to punch the wall. “How long is this supposed to take?”

“Believe me, I’m wondering the same thing. At least Rapunzel has some sort of rhythm. You, Pascal, are completely hopeless.”

He sputters but comes up with no retort.

By the time Mary lets us go, we’ve learned a minuet, a waltz, foxtrot, quickstep, and so many others they make my head spin. I don’t know how I’ll remember all of them.

“Well, I tried,” Mary says. She probably would’ve kept us for five more hours, only Tracy snuck into the Groom Room to warn us that curfew is in thirty minutes. “But you’ll probably still Fail the challenges.”

“You need to have more faith in us!” I say, my feet moving against my better judgement. One-two-three, one-two-three.

“More like she has to have more faith in herself,” Pascal says, crossing his arms. “She’s the one who taught us anyways.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I did what I set out to do. Now you’ll fail the challenges, but you probably won’t fail the Ball. Just take turns getting bottom ranks and neither of you will be Failed!” She smiles brightly.

We glance at each other and sigh.

This is feeling more and more impossible by the day.

Chapter Text

The outside world has turned white with frost and when we go outside for Lunch and Surviving Fairy Tales, we wear thick pink shawls that just barely keep out the cold. Why are our uniforms short sleeved when it’s cold half the year?

Exactly one week before the Snow Ball, we enter Beautification to large boxes on each of our vanities.

“Ah, welcome girls! I’m pleased to report that the fairies have finished sewing your dresses. Today is an exciting day.” Professor Anemone looks so giddy you’d think it was her going to the Snow Ball. “We will try them on and make changes if necessary.”

The Princesses scream in excitement (Princesses scream quite a lot.) and sprint to their vanities.

“Please open the boxes carefully,” Professor Anemone says, walking around the room to observe. “You won’t be receiving new ones. What will your Princes say if you enter the Snow Ball in a ripped dress? It’s not worth rushing.”

The thought convinces the girls to at least open the boxes carefully, if not slowly.

I lift the lid of my own box and let out a gasp.

It’s beautiful, even more beautiful than Mary’s drawing.

The most perfect color of purple, printed with delicate pink flowers. The corset is stylish but it’s made out of light fabric so it won’t be so tight I can’t breathe. I place the cover back on the box and get into line behind all the girls who opened their boxes faster than me.

Everyone’s excited, except Cassandra who looks like she still wishes she could wear pants instead of a baby blue skirt so long she can’t even run (curtesy of Belle, I saw the drawing). Even so, she manages to muster up a smile when she catches Belle or I looking at her.

The line to the only two dressing rooms in the Beautification room slowly dwindles. As their friends step out, the girls in line stop whatever they’re doing to let out screams of joy and embrace their friends. Professor Anemone suggests makeup and hair looks.

When Belle steps out, everyone lets out a little gasp.

It’s the most surprising dress of the day. It’s clear that nobody expected a Reader to look quite so beautiful. But I wasn’t surprised. Belle is probably the closest to a Princess out of anyone and with the way she acts, you’d think she’s been in this world forever.

Her hoop-skirt is the largest of everyone’s, a bright sunshine yellow with embroidered golden designs and delicate pearls. Her face is bright with joy and she glances at herself in every possible mirror from all angles. All the other girls gush at the beauty of her dress.

“It’s stunning, my dear,” says Professor Anemone. I always knew Belle was her favorite. “I think your partner should wear a navy or a royal blue. Why don’t you start making a design for him and find something to do with your hair?”

Belle normally wears her hair in a low ponytail tied with a blue ribbon. I suppose it’s not polished enough for the Snow Ball.

When more than half the class has transformed into a true Princess and is chattering excitedly with each other, it’s finally my turn.

I step inside the dressing room and close the curtains with a swish.

After checking two times over that the curtains are completely closed, I glance at myself in the mirrored walls.

With Professor Anemone’s lectures whenever she sees me, my hair is just a little more soft, silky, and long. My face is a little cleaner and my skin looks a little smoother. I am still not-quite pretty.

I brush my pink uniform off my shoulders and goosebumps erupt on my skin. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror while my clothes are off and instead focus on removing my dress from the box without getting it wrinkled.

I’m taking too long. Everyone thinks I’m taking too long. There are people waiting for me.

I step into the skirt and pull it over my torso, putting my arms through the long sleeves and hooking the straps over my shoulders. I spend way too long trying to weave the ribbon through the corset before finally deciding to ask Mary for help once I’m out. Why would they make corsets so complicated?

I pay myself a glance in the walls before I step out.

Instead of the little girl who entered the School for Good, I look like a Princess in purple and pink. The dress fits me perfectly and instead of revealing skin I don’t want revealed, it makes me look beautiful.

I open the curtain with another swish.

Belle gasps and screams, grabbing me and struggling to spin me in a circle because her hoop-skirt takes up so much space. “You look beautiful!”

“You really do,” Cassandra says before stepping into the changing room herself.

The other girls don’t say anything which I take as a compliment. Mary smiles from her makeup station in a dress of pure gold.

Professor Anemone doesn’t waste time with compliments. “Natural makeup look, experiment with shoe designs.”

“Shoes?” I glance down at my uniformed slippers, just barely tolerable. “Do I have to wear shoes?”

The other girls laugh.

My face heats up.

Professor Anemone lets out a little sigh. “Just worry about makeup for now. We can talk about shoes later.”

I don’t even know what a “natural” makeup look is supposed to be. I go to the bookshelf of magazines and begin flipping through it. None of the images seem “natural.”

“Need some help?” Mary, fully transformed into a queen with a golden ballgown and golden eyeshadow, appears behind me.

“Doesn’t ‘natural’ mean that you aren’t wearing any makeup?” None of these pictures look like that.

Mary laughs.

I blush but it doesn’t seem like she’s laughing in a mean way, just amused.

“No. ‘Natural’ is just when the boys think you aren’t wearing any makeup.” She flips through some of the pages.

Chapter Text

“Here, try this one.”

I glance down at the picture. False eyelashes, heavy eyeshadow and eyeliner, a lip stain with lipstick and gloss. The skin on my face is cringing away just from looking at it. “That is NOT natural.”

“It’s what natural makeup is supposed to look like. Natural colors, natural features. No big bold glitter or anything. Here, I’m done with my makeup.” Mary pulls up a stool and leans closer. “I’ll show you how to do it.”

And so Mary is once again standing over me with a delicate paintbrush, coloring in my features with thick powder and creme. This time though, she narrarates what she’s doing:

“I’m coloring in the corners of your eyes with gold so they look brighter. Now, I’m blending your face with a foundation so it looks smoother.”

“Thanks for helping me,” I mumble.

“Don’t talk. I’m working on your lips now.” She adds the stain first. “Now purse them out really, really far.”

I do so, but I’m sure she’s just making me do it because it makes me look foolish. She outlines in a pencil close to my own skin tone from a tray with hundreds of different shades, then colors them in a layer of sparkling pink. When it feels like they’re so covered it can’t possibly be healthy, she adds yet another layer of sticky gloss.

I press my lips together.

“Don’t do that! You’ll ruin it.”

“It feels so weird, though!”

“But look how pretty it is!” She holds up a mirror.

It does look pretty. With my new dress and beautifully applied makeup, I’m the closest to a Princess as I’ll ever be.

“Pascal is going to love it,” Mary says while cleaning up the station.

I wilt and feel slightly less beautiful. “I don’t care if Pascal likes it.”

“Why not? He’s your Prince, no?”

“Not really. We’re going together because I was scared nobody would ask me after Eugene.”

“That’s silly. Of course someone else would ask you. At least five other people asked me, even…” her voice drifts off and she swallows. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going with Eugene and you’re going with Pascal.”

“Why are we both going with boys we don’t even love? Why are you going with a boy you don’t even like?”

“That’s what being in Good means, Rapunzel.” She crosses her arms. “Compromises and teamwork, for our kingdoms. We’ll learn to love them,” she says it in the same way I repeat Mother Gothel’s phrases.

“Why is this war our whole lives? Why can’t we just have Princes we love? Why can’t we just be happy?”

“That’s our sacrifice. We let them be happy and it makes us happy too.”

“I don’t feel very happy.”

“No…” she drifts off. I have to stop myself from waving something in front of her face to snap her out of it. “It’s probably easier when you see the people you are sacrificing for. It’s harder now because the School for Good is so closed off.”

~~~~~~

I spend the rest of class watching the other girls emerge transformed from the dressing rooms in brand new ball gowns and smiles so bright I’m surprised the sun hasn’t turned green with envy.

When Mary’s friend Tracy steps out, I let out a gasp.

She’s wearing a strapless, tight-fitting dress the same shade of blue as her eyes. It falls a few inches above her knees. Her face is bright with joy and she looks at herself through every single mirror in the room.

“You look so pretty!” I want to say, but I don’t. I doubt she’d appreciate hearing it from me, especially because all the other girls are busy looking her up and down, already whispering under their breath.

While I’m used to the sound, the way it gets louder and quieter and then louder again, all the time with words that are imperceptible, I’m not used to Tracy being the subject of the murmurs.

“No, no, absolutely not!” At first, I think Professor Anenome is discouraging the whispering. “You cannot wear that to the ball!”

Tracy seems just as confused as me. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s too revealing! We’ve already agreed that your figure is a better fit for more modest clothing.”

“I don’t understand, Professor.” She looks around at the other girls. “It’s showing the same amount of skin as Amanda’s.” She points at Amanda who is looking scandalized. “Maybe less!”

“Yes, dear. As I have explained to you, some people are privileged with the ability to wear revealing clothing. You just do not have that privilege.”

“You mean because I’m not thin.” She turns to everyone in the room, tears in her eyes. “That’s what you mean, right? Why can’t you just SAY it? And why can’t I wear whatever I want? Everyone else can.” She runs out of the room.

I want to run after her, but when Mary makes eye contact with me, she shakes her head slowly.

“Maybe she should go on a diet if she wants to wear something like that,” a girl says. A few people laugh and everything goes back to the way it was.

Cassandra comes out last. She was so disinterested in the whole thing that she only got in line with her box when she realized everyone else was.

She’s also the only person besides Tracy who is met with murmured whispers instead of applause.

Probably because she’s wearing pants. It’s a uniform similar to the one Princes wear when they go into the forest to find their Princesses. It’s forest green and matched with a black cape and black gloves. Her belt has an empty sword holder in it (there would probably be a sword in it if Princesses were permitted to use them) and though her top is bound like a corset, it’s done so loosely it seems like an afterthought.

“You look beautiful,” I say, hoping to encourage the other girls to voice agreement.

But I am not that powerful. The whispers only grow louder and Cassandra’s face turns defiant.

“No. No. Absolutely not.” Professor Anenome says, grabbing Cassandra by the shoulders and ushering her back into the dressing room. “I will not have a Princess wear pants to the Snow Ball. It would be the end of my career. I thought I already told you this.”

“Come on!” Cassandra stamps her foot, her short black hair bouncing in indignation. “The boys get to wear pants. Why can’t I?”

“You just answered your own question. You are not a boy! Why are you so determined to dress like one?” I’ve never seen Professor Anenome so angry. “Go change.”

The other girls laugh as Cassandra changes back into her regular uniform and emerges from the dressing room, red-faced.

Chapter Text

Cassandra huffs at having the second-lowest score.

“Well…” Belle starts to say, a giant golden one shining above her head.

I make eye contact with her and shake my head vigorously.

She chooses a different tact. “I can help you design a different dress if you want. Or Mary can do something for you. She’s good at designing dresses.”

“I don’t want a girl like her to design my dress! Why do I have to wear a dress anyway?” Cassandra crosses her arms and frowns.

“That’s just how it’s done,” Belle soothes. “You could wear a less extravagant skirt like Rapunzel is wearing. It wouldn’t even feel like a dress.”

“I’ll design something else,” Cassandra says, crossing her arms. “I’ll show them.”

“Can I meet you guys at our tree for lunch?” I interrupt. I’d rather not be in the middle of this. “There’s something I want to do.”

~~~~

I find Tracy in the girls’ bathroom, still in her ballgown, sitting below the sinks.

At first, I think she’s practicing taking up as little space as possible. I used to do it all the time when I made Mother angry. I stand, trying to decide what to do, but when I am quiet for a few moments, I can hear her sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, even though I know what’s wrong.

She lifts her head and sees me. “Nothing!” Her lip wobbles and she bursts into tears again. “You don’t have to get involved in everything, you know. Do you think it will make us like you?”

“No.” I step into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. “That’s not it.”

“Then am I supposed to be your Good Deeds homework? I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone.”

I sit down next to her, resting my chin on my knees. “Our Good Deeds homework is to help someone in a challenge. I waited until the challenge was over. You wouldn’t qualify.”

“Then just go away,” she says, her voice muffled by her hands.

“I don’t want to,” I say simply. “I don’t like to leave people while they’re crying.”

She wipes her face with the back of her hand and attempts a brave smile. “I’m not crying, see?”

I raise one eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’m crying. But I don’t want to talk about it, especially not with a Never.”

Her words sting, but I don’t show it. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m all you’ve got right now so I guess we just won’t talk.”

“Fine.”

We sit in silence for forty-three seconds. I know because I counted in my head while pretending not to notice the silent tears traveling down Tracy’s cheeks in a steady stream.

“How am I supposed to be a Princess when I fail every single Beautification class?” she says finally.

“Come on, you don’t fail every single one.” Only one person can get the bottom score after all and I’ve gotten it almost as often as Tracy.

“You don’t fail anything at all anymore! And besides, you failed because you’re not good at it. I’m good at it! I’m good at makeup and hair and clothes. I fail because I’m ugly!”

“You’re not ugly.”

She hides her face in her hands again. “Easy for you to say. You’re a Never but you look like a Princess. I’m a Princess but I have to look like a Never.”

“Some Nevers are pretty,” I say, thinking of Mother’s long black curls.

She bursts into more hysterical tears.

“Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t the right thing to say, was it?” I’m so bad at this.

“Why can’t I just wear what I want to the ball? I can’t help it if I’m ugly.”

“You’re not ugly!”

But she can’t hear me, not now. “So many Princesses have dresses that are more revealing than mine. Why am I the one who has the lowest score?”

I don’t bother answering her question. She already knows the answer. “It’s not fair,” I say instead.

“No, it’s not.” She wipes her tears away. “I didn’t ask to be a Princess! I knew I wasn’t pretty enough. Everyone said so.”

I sit in silence. Lunch is almost over now. I’m really hungry, but I don’t want to move until Tracy feels better. “Y’know,” I say, struck by a sudden thought. “When I first saw you, I called you ‘Cinderella’ in my head because I thought you looked just like her.”

She laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, with your golden hair and bright blue eyes.”

“Please, your hair is more golden than mine.”

“Maybe,” I concede because it’s not really the point. “But you’re so pretty. I wish you and everyone else could see that.”

“Come on, you’re just saying that. Nevers lie all the time.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

More moments of silence. “She’s my mother, you know. Cinderella?”

“Really?” I look at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She’s not looking at me. “I don’t tell people because nobody can ever believe it. You should see all the people who come over. Nobody can believe that someone who looks like me came from someone who looks like her. Everyone thought it would be my older sister who got the letter. She spent her whole life preparing, but it wasn’t. It was me. But Grandma keeps saying I’ll be a mogrif.”

“Mother Gothel always says the same thing to me, but you won’t,” I promise, even though I have no control over anything.

“I might, if I keep failing Beautification.”

“Well, you should study hard and prove her wrong. You deserve to be here. You got the letter, not your sister.”

“Professor Anenome keeps giving me designs that look like maid uniforms. I don’t like any of those dresses.”

“Why don’t you just wear the dress you want to wear? The one you designed.”

“They grade us on presentation. I’m scared they’ll fail me if they don’t like my dress.”

“Who cares? Wear what you want to wear. Your dress is beautiful and so are you.”

“I guess.” She stands and brushes herself off. “I’d better change back into my uniform. Do I look like I’ve been crying?”

I bite my lip, shrugging.

She sighs and looks at herself in the mirror. “I’ll take that as a yes. Oh, my face looks so puffy and awful.”

I don’t bother disagreeing.

“I have to go to the dorm to fix my makeup. If anyone asks… say I had to take a nap or something?”

“Of course.” I stretch and move to the door.

“Maybe I shouldn’t believe what everyone else says so fast. You don’t seem all that bad.”

I give a little mock curtsy. “Well, thanks.”

We share a smile and exit the bathroom.

Chapter Text

We bring our dresses to every single class that is only for Princesses, but the other girls insist on running up to their dorms to hide the boxes before any of our classes with the boys.

“It’s bad luck,” Mary says when I ask. “You wouldn’t want your future husband to see your dress before your wedding day, right?”

I don’t bother saying that none of us are getting married and even if we were, I feel like it’s foolish to try and hide your wedding dress from your future husband. How’s he supposed to know what you’ll look like if he doesn’t know what you’re wearing? I’ve learned by now that any questions of Good traditions only result in glares and judgement.

When we enter Princess Etiquette, it’s to rows and rows of heels. I groan. I was so thankful when the heel unit ended that I almost cried. I still had blisters on my toes for weeks after.

“Welcome, Princesses! Please put your dresses against the wall. You won’t need them just yet.”

We hurridly do as we’re told and take our places at the desks.

“As you can see, I’ve brought back our heels. Today we will be taking a test so you can decide which shoes you will be able to wear at the Snow Ball.”

I grit my teeth to stifle a groan. Some girls glance at each other anxiously. Mary and Tracy are the only ones who look even remotely excited.

“Now, Professor Aneneome made me aware that some of you have been experimenting with shoe designs in Beautification, but due to a few… incidents in past Snow Balls, you will not be permitted to wear heels during the Snow Ball without written permission from me.”

The girls (besides Cassandra and I) let out cries of outrage.

“This is for your own good! How would it look if you were to stumble during your entrance or, Storian forbid, step on your partner during a dance because you aren’t prepared to wear heels? You won’t be scored generously, that’s for sure. And it’s not very princesslike either!”

That quiets the loudest cries, but the girls still mutter furiously with each other and cross their arms, frowning.

“Similarly.” Why is Professor Zoey staring straight at me? “If you recieve permission to wear heels, you will get extra credit in your scoring.”

That piques everyone’s interest.

“If you have designed heels for your outfit and I do not permit you to wear them, you will have to make a new design without heels.”

New groans, anxious glances. Renewed muttering. Girls start stepping closer to the heels, eager to prove themselves capable.

“Just one more thing.” Professor Zoey points a finger glow at the girls trying to reach the heels and they are pushed back. “Princesses try wearing stilettos every year. They want their heels as tall as possible. You will have to request those from me especially. Unless you prove yourself more capable, I’ll only allow up to five
inches.”

I roll my eyes. Imagine having five inches under your abused ankes and wanting to be even higher.

“I had the fairies and the Princes set up an obstacle course in the Groom Room, so we will be traveling there now. Please change into your dresses and meet me there in fifteen minutes.” She turns away from us and summons the fairies to fly dozens of pairs of shoes over to the Groom Room.

This is going to be a long hour.

By the time we’re all at the Groom Room dressed in our ballgowns, groans of disappointment have transformed into murmurs of excitement.

“Can you believe this?” I say to Belle, brushing my hair between my fingers.

“Which part? The fact that we have to get written permission to wear heels or this whole obstacle course?”

“Everything!” Nevers don’t care about shoes. Why do I have to compete for heels I don’t even want?

Mary grabs my shoulder. “You forget yourself,” she whispers in my ear. “You shouldn’t say things like that around here. You want people to believe you’re Good, right?”

I let out a little sigh. “Sorry.”

“Not me you should be apologizing to.”

Cassandra pointedly ignores Mary. “I agree with Rapunzel. Why can’t we just wear boots? Or sneakers? Why is everyone getting so competitive over uncomfortable shoes?”

“Speaking of which.” Belle turns to Cassandra, crossing her arms over her bejeweled yellow ballgown. “You’re still in your uniform. What did you think about my dress designs?”

“I already told you. I don’t want your designs. I have a plan worked out.”

“What’s your plan?” Belle asks, raising one eyebrow.

“You’ll find out at the Snow Ball, won’t you?”

“Cassandra!” Belle throws her arms up. “I’m trying to stop you from being Failed!”

“I won’t be Failed.”

“Just drop it,” I mutter to Belle. She sighs but doesn’t say anything else.

Luckily, Professor Zoey appears and ushers us into a section of the Groom Room I’ve never been inside of before. “This is where the Princes normally practice their sword fighting. I received special permission from their instructor to allow us to use the open space to practice.”

Cassandra perks up in interest. After looking around though, she wilts in disappointment again. The swords and weapons normally lining the walls have been removed as books have been added to form winding paths and steps.

“I was thinking we could make a fun activity out of it,” Professor Zoey says. “You’ll each race around the course and then whoever doesn’t fall will progress to the next round. We’ll start with one inch and progress to two, and so on. The one inches are here.” She gestures to a pile directly next to her. “You can pick them up…
now!”

There’s a huge commotion as everyone scrambles to get shoes that match their dresses or that are similar to the ones they designed in our heads. I end up with a pair of plain tan sandles.

It’s not long before everyone has a pair of shoes and when we’ve each put them on, (I feel the blisters forming at my ankles and the tips of my toes already) Professor Zoey counts down from three. “Go!”

Chapter Text

And we’re off, speedwalking (because running isn’t “princesslike”, as I unfortunately learned one day in Surviving Fairy Tales. Bottom ranks.) through narrow paths, around stacks of books.

Why does anyone wear these things? Even ones one inch tall make my ankles ache.

Tracy walks like a queen, pushing those who get too close to her. “Move it!”

I walk for at most ten seconds and then trip over a stack of books. Oh, come on! I don’t even want to wear heels, but why do I have to be the first one out? Now everyone is going to know that the only girl raised by a Never is the worst at wearing high heels.

“To the side then, Rapunzel,” Professor Zoey says kindly. I scowl and make way for everyone else. Cassandra, finishing the race just after Mary and Tracy, smiles apologetically at me.

I take off the despised shoes and smooth my skirt over my knees.

Everyone finishes the one-inch round. Belle stumbles across the finish line last, kneeling to massage her ankles.

“Onto two inches then.” The girls excitedly take off their shoes and put on ones with heels twice as tall. I’m glad I don’t have to wear those.

This time, everyone moves a bit faster. I suppose even Princesses feel the itch of a competition.

Belle falls two turns away from the finish line.

“Oh, come on!” she screams as she goes down.

“Come join Rapunzel, then.”

Belle does nothing, remaining kneeled exactly where she is.

“Are you all right, my dear? Have you twisted something?” The other girls glance back at Belle but keep moving. Cassandra is the only one who stops, dodging the girls going in the opposite direction to make sure Belle is okay.

“I’m all right! I’m all right!” Belle struggles to stand.

Cassandra runs to help her stand. I stand still. Why am I standing still? I should help her.

“No, Cassandra, don’t bother. I’m fine. They’re getting ahead of you.”

That’s when I find myself and help Belle walk to the side. She leans against the wall and takes off her heels.

“Ugh, why do Princesses even wear these things?”

“Beats me,” I say. “Are you sure you’re not hurt or anything? You might’ve twisted your ankle.”

“I’m sure.” She tucks her feet under herself and winces. “It’s just sore now, I’ll be fine.”

Only a few more girls trip in the two-inch round. The surviving girls move to three inches. A few more join us at the wall during that one.

At six inches, only Tracy (looking determined), Mary (looking bored), and Cassandra (staring down at her feet as if they belong to someone else) remain.

“This is the maximum height you will be allowed to wear at the ball so if you survive this round, you will be permitted up to six inches. All three of you will be in the
top three in rankings and your order in that will be determined by how quickly you finish the course,” Professor Zoey announces.

The girls at the wall lean forward, waiting. Belle holds her breath as if she is the one racing.

“Go!”

And they’re off. Mary and Tracy move to the front and Mary leans forward to get in front of Tracy. Cassandra holds her arms straight out on either side of herself, determined not to embarrass herself by falling over in the last round.

“Come on, Cassandra!” Belle shouts, holding her hand up in a fist.

What is she doing? Screaming is not Princesslike at all. Nobody is going to think she belongs now.

But to my surprise, the other girls smile at Belle and cheer loudly for Mary, Tracy, and even Cassandra. Even Professor Zoey smiles as we watch the race.

When they’re about to reach the finish line, Mary is in front. Tracy’s face is set and she walks faster, the heels on her shoes still obeying her. Mary is about to cross the finish line. Cassandra watches from her place in the back, hardly caring that she’ll get third place.

Suddenly, just as Mary is throwing her arms up in pride, Tracy pulls Mary back by the hair.

“What are you doing!?” Mary screeches.

“Sorry!” Tracy says, using Mary’s speed to pull her in front. “I need this!”

The race is over in a manner of seconds after that. Tracy crosses the finish line first, then Mary half a second later. Mary proceeds to scream at Tracy, a vein bulging on the side of her forehead.

Cassandra crosses the line a few seconds after that. She sits next to Belle and me, trying to be unnoticed by Mary and Tracy who are still screaming at each other. Belle silently claps for Cassandra and embraces her with so much pride that you would think she won the first-place ranking.

“Girls!” Professor Zoey yells. “Screaming in front of others is not princesslike at all. Explain yourselves!”

“Apologies, Professor,” says Mary after combing her hair through her fingers and taking several deep breaths. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure of that, Mary, but what I am more worried about is why in the Schoolmaster’s name it happened in the first place.”

Mary’s hands clench into fists and she takes a few shallow breaths. “Well, Professor-”

“It was my fault,” Tracy interrupts. “I pulled Mary’s hair to get ahead in line. I’m sorry.” She says the last two words to Mary, her face in a truly sorrowful expression.

There’s whispering among the girls.

“Why would she confess?” Belle asks in a hushed voice.

“Why would she do it in the first place?” I retort.

During the commotion, our ranks appear above our heads. We wave them out of the way, hardly even looking up. What’s happening with Tracy and Mary is much more interesting.

When a bright golden one appears above Tracy’s head, her face turns bright red. “I- I have to go.”

“Wait! Tracy!” Mary shouts after her. No response. Mary stomps her foot. “Ugh! Why is she like this? What did I ever do to that girl?”

The other girls run to comfort Mary, but I don’t move. Something in me thinks it has little to do with Mary at all.

“All right, then!” Professor Zoey claps her hands together in delight when everyone except Tracy is back in the room and in our regular old pink uniforms. “Everyone except Rapunzel has permission to wear heels of at least one inch. You can tell me which level you lost at and I’ll write out your slips. And don’t bother lying! It’ll be worse for you than for me if you lied.”

The girls run over to Professor Zoey, faces alight with excitement.

“Rapunzel,” she turns to me and points to one of the many photo-filled binders on the bookshelf. “There are many designs with flat shoes you could try. You may look through them while we write out those slips.”

My face burns in shame. Why did I have to be the only one who lost in the first round?

I look through the binder, but all the shoes seem too narrow, too tight, too uncomfortable. I can just feel the blisters forming on my toes while I try to dance.

“Do I have to wear shoes? What if I’m going for a… natural look?” Professor Zoey doesn’t answer. The other girls glance at me and roll their eyes. I suppose it is a foolish question, the kind of question a Never impersonating as a Princess would say.

Chapter Text

Belle bursts through the doors of my and Mary’s room. “It’s today! It’s today!”

Mary sits up in bed, scowling. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to knock, you know.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Belle, already in her large and inconvenient ballgown, begins opening the curtains and turning on the lights.

“What time is it?” Mary asks.

“Too early.” I groan. I place my pillow over my head, trying to block out the light coming from the windows.

“Ugh! You guys are just like Cassandra. The Snow Ball is today! I waited a whole three hours before coming in here. You should be grateful.”

I glance at the clock. “You woke up at three in the morning?”

“Something like that. I could hardly sleep. I’m too excited!”

“Classes were canceled today and the Ball isn’t until twelve hours from now,” I say, closing my eyes again. “We can sleep in a bit.”

“But don’t you want to get ready?” Belle pouts, her lipstick smudging just a bit at the top of her lip.

I stretch, yawning. “Seems like you’re already ready.”

“Not even close,” she retorts. “I just got my ballgown on because I didn’t see the point in putting on my uniform just to come visit you guys.”

“Belle!” Mary looks up from her makeup mirror to cast a scandalized look at Belle. “What if Gaston saw you?”

“Come on, you know none of the boys are up this early.”

“You shouldn’t be either!”

“Oh, quit arguing, won’t you?” I stand and look at myself in the full-length mirror, pursing my lips and remembering every single Beautification class as I consider what must be done in the next twelve hours.

“Mary, can you style my hair first?”

Mary turns around and looks critically at my head, tracing the blonde strands with her eyes. It’s nearly down my back now. When I first came here, it was only just past my back. “Do you really think I can style all that alone?”

“You told me you would!” Betrayal colors my tone.

“And I will, but you’re going to have to wait until Tracy, Harmony, and Melody get here.”

“You need three other people just to do my hair?”

“Four. I need Belle too.” She goes back to her makeup. “If you’re going to keep it that long, you should learn how to do it yourself. I keep saying you’d look better with a bob or something.”

“But it’s so much harder to do it when it’s on top of my own head!” I say, ignoring the unnecessary suggestion.

“And with those Beautification ranks you’re getting, you’ll be lucky to become a Follower.”

The room goes quiet. “Don’t say that,” I say quietly.

“Let’s just focus on the Ball for now,” Belle says. “Mary, can I borrow your lipstick?”

“Ah, the girl comes in for a reason.” Mary rolls her eyes but moves to her dresser. “You wanted the dark pink, right? Make sure you use a tissue to apply it. I don’t want to get sick.”

“I won’t get you sick.”

“I know you don’t think you will, but if I get sick after the Ball, I’m blaming you.”

“Whatever.” Belle looks into the mirror against the wall and starts adjusting her skirt.

We don’t talk to each other for a while, all of us too focused on our to-dos: running back and forth to the bathroom, putting on dresses, washing hair. I’m busy cleaning up my fifth failed makeup attempt when I hear knocks on the door.

“Who’s there?” Mary calls, her back to the door.

“It’s us!”

“Belle, can you get it?”

“Why me? I’m busy!”

“Well so am I!”

“I’ll get it,” I interrupt, wiping my hands on a cloth that was white an hour ago but is now so stained it looks gray tie-dyed with purple, pink, and bronze.

Tracy, Harmony, and Melody are waiting on the other side of the door with matching baskets of flowers. Harmony and Melody meet my eyes with identical furious glares but Tracy smiles. “Hi, Rapunzel! Is Mary here too?”

“Yeah,” I respond. “So is Belle.” I stand back so they can come in.

“You guys are here, thank the Storian!” Mary puts down her makeup.

Tracy, Harmony, and Melody set down their baskets.

“What are those flowers for?” I ask.

“You’ll see!” Tracy says with a big smile. She’s already in her dress, beaming like she’s been crowned Queen of Corona. “We spent all morning collecting them.”

I smile back tentatively. It’s still weird how Tracy is being nice to me while the twins only glare at me like I stole their Queen’s Prince or something.

“Okay, Rapunzel. Sit on the bed.” Mary comes over to us and starts leafing through the basket, inspecting each flower.

Belle pauses her twirling to watch us curiously.

“I need your help too, Belle.” Mary turns to me, crossing her arms. “Do you expect me to do your hair standing up?”

I hurriedly get on the bed and sit down, waiting. “What are you trying to do?”

“Calm down, you trust me, right?”

“Not particularly,” I say, but stay still.

Mary whispers her idea to the girls. “I drew it like this,” I hear the rustling of paper behind me as she presents the drawing, then whispers orders to each of them.

It’s quite relaxing while it’s happening. They each take pieces of my hair and weave them together with the flowers. For a second, I don’t feel like it’s every girl for herself in this School.

“Okay, it looks like we’re done.” Mary holds up a mirror the way we were taught in Beautification so I can see the back of my head. “What do you think?”

They’ve woven my hair into an elegant bun with flowers all through the blonde strands. I blush. I look like a Princess. I look beautiful. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Are you sure there isn’t something you want us to change? It’s your hair.”

“No,” I say. “Absolutely nothing. It looks wonderful.”

Mary smiles. “I’m glad. You deserve to feel beautiful.”

Belle looks through the remains of my dress-box and then at my bare feet. “I don’t see your shoes in here. Were you planning on wearing the sandals that go with your uniform, or do you need to borrow a pair from one of us?”

I wiggle my toes, enjoying the feeling of the hardwood on my feet. Evers never go anywhere without shoes, not even in their own dorms after curfew. “I’m not wearing any.”

Harmony and Melody let out identical laughs, looking at each other with vindictive grins.

“Rapunzel-” Belle starts.

“That’s a ridiculous idea,” Mary finishes. “You’re seriously not going to wear shoes? Is it because you lost the heel-challenge?”

“That’s not the reason,” I say defensively. “You don’t get it.

“Please.” Mary sits on the bed. “Enlighten me.”

“I just don’t want to wear them.”

“That’s-”

“A stupid reason? Tracy can’t wear the dress she wants to wear, Cassandra can’t wear pants. We’re Princesses, right? We should be able to wear what we want!”

Belle walks over to me and places her hand on my shoulder. “That’s not what Mary is saying, Rapunzel. She just means that it’s a ridiculous thing to loose points over. Think about it. This is your future at stake. The Snow Ball isn’t about just ‘making a point.’ You can change things when you’re a Queen.”

“Well, maybe this is how I’m changing things. And this is my choice, not yours. Just let me make it.”

“It’s not worth it, Belle,” Tracy says from the back, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s not dressed yet.

“I guess I have no control over you, then.”

“About as much control as the Schoolmaster has over the Storian.”

She offers me an extra pair of slippers half-heartedly before giving up when I shake my head. When it’s time to go, I give my dress one last twirl before walking out with the girls. Before we split in the hallway, it’s almost like I’m a part of the group.

Chapter Text

“Are you scared?” Belle asks.

The girls are about to enter the Snow Ball. We’ve been split up by gender and then by rank with five of us to a room. The fairies are supposed to tell us when it’s time to enter. The boys haven’t even seen us yet and Storian only knows where they all were while we ran all over the school like we owned the place.

I’m in a room with Mary, Belle, Harmony, and Penelope. The top five girls. Belle sticks to me like glue, Mary treats us with indifference, and the other two girls stare at Belle and I like we’re personally offending them with our presence.

“A little bit.” I move to the door and try peeking through the keyhole to see if the fairies are coming.

They’re not.

“I’m not really nervous, more excited, you know?” Belle keeps babbling and I pretend to listen, but instead I’m just trying to ignore the weight forming in my stomach.

There is a knock on the door.

The room goes silent.

I glance at each of the girls in turn. Why are they all staring at me? Oh wait, maybe because I’m right next to the door.

I turn the knob.

There’s a fairy on the other side. They can’t speak, (I realized that after the first few days) but this one is flying up and down, trying to get our attention.

“Is it time for us to go?”

The fairy nods its little head.

“Already!?” Mary screeches. Harmony and Penelope run like the fairy just announced the apocalypse.

“Guys, it’s not that big of a deal,” I say. “The boys will wait for us.”

“Be quiet, Rapunzel and get behind me,” Mary says, pushing me back. We’re supposed to enter in order of the girl’s rank and meet our partners before we go. That means it’s Mary, then me, then Belle.

Penelope files in behind Belle with Harmony behind her at the end. I smooth my skirt and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Mary leads the way down the stairs. The dining hall has been converted into a ballroom or, as Belle would say, the ballroom we’ve been using as a cafeteria has been reverted to its original form. The Princes are waiting in the Groom Room next to it.

We enter and every single boy in the school, all of them wearing tuxedos or suits and ties the same color as their Princess’s dress, look up when they hear the door.

When before we were in an orderly line, the five of us collapse into a little clump as close to the door as possible.

Eugene makes eye contact with me and smiles. Mary is the first to break off of the group. She saunters over to him, preening in her golden ballgown. He turns his smile to her, giving me one last glance before looking away.

“You look nice,” says a voice in my ear.

I look to the side and see Pascal in the creme blazer Belle designed and a green tie that matches his eyes.

“Thanks,” I whisper. “You too.”

“Thanks.” He gives a mock bow. “I owe it all to Belle of Woods Beyond.”

There’s an awkward silence. Belle is standing on her tiptoes, trying to see over the heads of the crowd of Princes.

Pascal ends her suffering. “I saw Gaston over there.” He points.

“Thanks!” Belle smiles and starts moving closer to him.

“I wish her luck,” Pascal says to me. “Gaston is so mean to everyone and he has exactly one friend. How he even got into the School for Good I’ll never know.”

“Don’t let Belle hear you saying that,” I warn.

“Oh, trust me.” He grins. “I won’t. She would literally murder me.”

We laugh. “She seems happy enough,” I say. “I suppose we’ll see how tonight goes before giving Gaston our final judgement.”

“Speaking of which.” Pascal holds out his arm for me. “We’re supposed to go second. Wouldn’t want to keep the lesser Princesses waiting.”

I giggle and give a little curtsy. “That’s me, the Never girl in Mary’s shadow.”

“Absolutely not,” Pascal says. “Eugene will be so busy thinking about you that he won’t be able to pay attention to his Score.”

As if she was summoned purely by Pascal’s words, Mary appears next to me. “Eugene and I are ready if you are.”

I glance at Pascal.

He nods.

“We are. Is Belle?”

“She already said she would wait until two minutes after I’ve gone so the hallways don’t get too full.”

I pay myself one last glance in the Groom Room mirror and take a deep breath. In. Out. Everything will be fine. “All right,” I say. “Let’s go.”

We’re quiet as we walk a few feet behind Mary and Eugene. Eugene doesn’t look back at me but he doesn’t talk to Mary either, though she tries in vain to say something that will give her more than just a one word response. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

They arrive at the ballroom all too soon. Eugene waits for Pascal and I to catch up before pasting on his trademark smirk and opening the door for Mary. “After you, m’lady.”

Mary forces a smile that looks a bit more like a grimace. “Thank you.” She takes hold of her skirt and walks daintily through the door. Eugene follows her and it closes behind him.

I beat Pascal to the keyhole, pressing my ear against the cold metal. “Ugh.” I stomp quietly in frustration. “It’s blocked.”

“Sounds like the teachers are cleverer than us. How is that even possible?” Pascal asks from the crack in the double doors.

“Move it.” I push him out of the way, trying to listen from his spot. It’s blocked too. “Seriously? How are we supposed to eavesdrop?”

With no way to know what’s coming, we’re left standing silently, waiting.

What if Mary’s scoring goes badly? What if they can tell Eugene does not love her because he can’t love her he just can’t and then they score her accordingly? I can’t even fear that possibility, just watch the door with apprehension.

Chapter Text

The doors open with an ominous creak. Mary and Eugene step out, arm in arm, faces neutral.

“How did it go?” I ask.

“They say we’ll find out when tracks are finalized.” Though she tries to cover it up, the indignation in Mary’s voice is clear.

“Sorry,” I mutter because there’s nothing else to say.

“It doesn’t matter.” She glances down at my feet one last time but chooses to say nothing about it. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“We’ll see you in there.” They move to the empty ballroom and I feel no envy for their place in the rank. I’m happy that we don’t have to be the first couple in the ballroom.

As Mary leads him away, Eugene gives me one last look. ‘Good luck,’ he mouths.

I want to cry.

“Rapunzel and Pascal?” calls a voice from inside. “We’re ready for you whenever you are.”

Pascal looks at me questioningly.

I take a deep breath and nod.

He opens the door for me like a proper prince and I step through.

There is only once piece of furniture: an elegant mahogany table and the trio of teachers facing us in plush red chairs. Professor Anemone, Professor Dovey, and an old male teacher I don’t recognize.

“The Chivalry teacher,” Pascal whispers in my ear. “Professor Charming.”

“Come closer you two, so we can get a good look. This is not supposed to be scary.”

I move forward one step at a time until we are face-to-face with the teachers. Professor Anemone looks me up and down and begins scribbling in her notebook. She glances back up just long enough to look at my feet, sigh, and then make another note.

My heart starts beating so fast it’s a miracle it hasn’t beat out of my chest.

Professor Dovey smiles at me encouragingly. “Princess Rapunzel and Prince Pascal. Both of you are commoners, correct?”

“Yes,” I say. I try to curl my lips up in a princess smile but it instead turns into a sort of grimace.

Professor Anemone places another note in her notebook. “We tend to encourage Evers to have at least one royal in their partnerships, but we’ve stopped taking points off for it a few years back.” Her tone says that she does not approve of the decision.

Pascal and I say nothing. It’s not like we can control that we’re not royal or anything. I mean, it’s the Schoolmaster who chooses to send letters to commoners. It’s not like I wanted one in the first place.

“Let’s finish the interview portion quickly,” Professor Charming says, glancing at the door. “Belle and Gaston are already outside.”

How does he-

“He has really powerful ears,” Pascal whispers. “He can hear basically everything happening everywhere.”

Professor Dovey smiles at us. “There will be plenty of time for conversation amongst yourselves when you are at the Ball. You’re meant to be speaking with us now.”

Pascal blushes. “Sorry. I could tell she was wondering, that’s all.”

“It’s quite all right, Pascal.” She gives him an approving smile and glances at Professor Anemone and Professor Charming. “Who would like to ask the questions?”

I share at look with Pascal. ‘Who’s answering?’ we ask each other silently. I shrug.

Professor Anemone speaks. “Why don’t you tell us what it was like?”

“What what was like?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Professor Anemone frowns. “What it was like when Pascal asked you to the Snow Ball, obviously.”

“Oh…” I did not think about this part. Mother Gothel used to say that Evers were all about arranged marriages, forced love, but something tells me that a last-resort date is not very romantic. I also remember Professor Sader telling us how marriages of convenience were outlawed a few generations ago.

Pascal senses my distress. “It was very romantic, obviously.”

“Obviously.” I give a laugh that rings unnaturally through the room and stops quickly.

“I know she doesn’t like public declarations.”

“Hate them.”

“So I waited until we were sitting by the river, just the two of us. We like looking at the School for Evil.” He realizes his mistake the second it comes out of his mouth.

I come to his rescue “Not because we like Evil, obviously. We’re just… fascinated by Evil tactics.”

“Yes…” says Professor Charming. “Given the fact that both of you were raised in close relation to Nevers, it makes sense that you would feel some kind of connection to the School.”

“We don’t!” I hear myself saying.

‘Don’t you?’

Shut up, Mother. I have an examination.

To my surprise, her voice goes quiet. I let out a small sigh of relief.

“We don’t,” I repeat. “We just like the view of their school from here. We like talking about tactics for the war.”

“Very good.” He makes a note in his notebook and nods to Pascal to continue.

Pascal gives a little gulp. “So anyway, I waited until we were alone and then I just asked her, ‘Rapunzel will you go to the Snow Ball with me?’”

“So I said yes, of course,” I drop in. We’re doing a great job at this, this pretending to be in love thing. “I mean, how could I say no?”

“How close was this invitation to the actual Snow Ball?”

How close should it have been?

“Two weeks?”

Professor Anemone makes her own note. “Very nice,” she says. “You both can go. Tell Belle and Gaston to go in when they’re ready.”

“Thank you,” say, curtseying.

Pascal opens the door for me and we exit.

“How was it?” Belle asks me, her yellow skirt taking up so much space in the hallway Gaston is forced to stand at least three feet away from her.

Belle’s Prince and mine exchange glares.

“Gaston,” Pascal growls a greeting.

“Pascal.”

“It was fine,” I say. “They just asked a couple of questions.”

Belle takes a deep breath and clenches and unclenches her hands.

“It’ll be fine Belle,” Gaston says in what he probably thinks is a comforting tone. “Just let me answer the questions. A Reader wouldn’t know what to say.”

Chapter Text

The ballroom feels like an empty box.

It’s not empty, of course. There are tables on every wall laden with drinks and food. Fairies fly about, waiting for a moment when they may be needed.

Eugene and Mary stand at one of the tables. Eugene is piling mountains of food onto his ceramic plate and Mary is making very forced conversation.

“Rapunzel!” Eugene smiles when he sees me. He walks over to us and Mary runs to catch up. “How did it go?”

“As well as it could have, I think,” I say. “But you can’t be sure till the tracks come out.”

“Don’t remind me!” Mary covers her ears comically. “I’ve never been so nervous. I doubt I’ll even be able to enjoy the Ball because I’m too busy worrying about tracks.”

“It’s not like you have anything to worry about,” Pascal says, crossing his arms. “You’ll be a leader for sure.”

“I hope so.” She looks at the sky with her hands clasped as if praying to some god unseen. She places a princess smile back on her face and turns to Eugene. “Want to dance with me?”

“Eh, I’d rather not start it when there are so few people here.”

“You’re right. We should wait.”

“I wish you wouldn’t just agree with everything I say.”

Pascal and I glance at each other while Mary sputters out an apology. Thankfully, that’s the moment when Belle and Gaston enter the ballroom.

“Belle!” I run over to her and give her the biggest hug in the whole entire world. “How did it go? How did it go?”

“It was fine, Gaston answered most of the questions.”

Gaston smiles, apparently very proud of himself. “It’s better when the Prince speaks,” he informs me.

I hope we don’t get points off because I spoke.

“Do you want to get fruit punch?” Belle asks me.

“Sure!”

The ballroom fills up quick. Even though they’re examining how we act in the Ball, it’s like everyone has forgotten that there’s an examination going on by now. It’s freeing

When Tracy enters, she comes out in six-inch heels and her tight fitting dress. Mary looks at her and rolls her eyes.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she says. “I feel beautiful, but the teachers say they’re taking points off because my dress wasn’t approved.”

“That’s a shame,” I say. “They shouldn’t take points off just because you wore something that made you feel confident.”

There’s some awkward silence. “Let’s dance,” Tracy says to her prince, pulling him over to the fairies so she can request a dancing tune.

“What’s the drama with the dress?” Pascal asks me.

“I’ll tell you later,” I say with a small sigh.

We watch Tracy and her prince walk to the fairies. They say something and the fairies nod. The group takes a deep breath and the fairies place their hands on the instruments.

And a truly terrible sound emerges. It’s like a screeching, but more high pitched. Every Ever in the room puts their hands over their ears, wincing. The fairies try to play their instruments again. The same sound emerges.

“What… is that?” Belle comes over to us and asks.

“I don’t-”

“Try having your little dance party now, Ever nerds!” A nevergirl jumps out from behind a table. “How are you going to dance with no music?”

“You know.” Pascal takes a cookie from one of the floating trays and takes a bite. “The teachers warned us that the Nevers like to plan pranks at the Snow Ball, but I didn’t really expect one this lame. Do they think we need instruments to dance?”

“Ugh, is that Donna again?” Belle groans. “No, don’t tell me.” She places a hand over her eyes. “Let me live in ignorance.”

“It’s Donna,” I say.

“Rapunzel!” She removes her hand from her face. “Didn’t I tell you not to tell me?”

“Sorry, I thought you were joking!”

“Whatever.” Belle turns with an exaggerated sigh to face her old friend. “You’re just jealous!” she shouts.

“Jealous? Of who, you? Because you have to wear pink every day and work to impress some misogynistic prince?”

“Maybe because we can be together and happy while you are all stuck fighting for Evil all alone?”

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?” Her voice gets shriller the more she talks.

One of the Princes move over to the fairies and begin inspecting the instruments.

“Come on, Donna. This is just sad! Why can’t you guys just leave us alone and let us have our fun?”

“It’s part of the war,” Pascal whispers to me. “Pranks are allowed by the teachers because they’re training for the war.”

I spot a Prince fiddle with a few pieces in each of the instruments, then hand them back to the fairies. They begin to play.

The Evers let out sighs of relief.

Donna scowls. “What? You weren’t supposed to figure out how to fix it!”

“Go away, Donna.” Belle returns to Gaston with a smile. He doesn’t return it.

“Unless you want to join us?” I ask. “The more the merrier.”

“Rapunzel.” Pascal grabs my arm. “Don’t. Do you want them to think you’re more of a Never? Evers have to know their own kind.”

“But-”

“I know the impulse. Trust me, I do. But we’re Evers, not Nevers.”

I remember my list. ‘Make them look at me and see someone other than my mother.’

“Never mind.” I cross my arms. “It was stupid of me to think someone like you would want to dance with people like us.”

My voice sounds nothing like my own but the Evers look at me with newfound approval and that’s all that matters.

Donna turns red, stomping loudly out of the Ballroom and beginning the long trek back to her own school.

“Good wins again!” says a Prince I’ve never met before, slapping me on the back.

Chapter Text

Pascal and I amuse ourselves by watching the other Evers and stuffing our faces with food.

“Look at poor Mary,” I say, pointing to her and Eugene. He hasn’t spoken more than a few words to her all night and she’s looking a little more distraught with every noncommittal hum.

“She got what was coming to her,” Pascal says, scowling. “Why would she ask you to give up your date anyway?”

“She had a good reason! I just can’t tell you.”

“It’s manipulation is what it is.” He nods to a fairy carrying a jug of juice commically larger than its tiny frame and taps on his empty glass. The fairy refills it. “Thanks.” It flies quickly away.

I don’t say anything.

We sit watching the dancers for a few minutes.

“Rapunzel,” says a voice behind me, standing with his arms behind his back, eyes scanning every inch of the ballroom.

“Eugene,” I say by way of greeting. I look over his shoulder. Mary stands at the table, biting her lip and trying not to cry.

“I was wondering…”

I revert my attention back to the man standing before me in a cream blazer and golden tie.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

~~~

Dame Gothel is running through the Blue Forest.

The idea strikes her as odd. She hasn’t been in her old school since her graduation years and years ago. The second she left she forswore this place.

But here she is. In the Blue Forest.

Running.

The blue grass hits her feet. Again. Again. Again. She can feel blisters forming through her shoes.

Why is she running? Dame Gothel does not run.

She ignores. Ignornes. As she always does. The voice in her head. It sounds like that old Dean. Telling her the opposite. Voices lie.

~~~~

“I…” I look at Mary again. She stares at me with her mouth hanging open, blinking back tears. “You haven’t even danced with your date yet.”

“No,” he sighs, not even paying Mary a glance. “But I never wanted to dance with her. I only wanted to dance with you.”

“With… me?” I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent the smile from forming. “But you should really dance with your date. It’s not chivilrous.”

“I don’t care about being chivilrous. Will you dance with me?”

I glance at Pascal. He nods frantically.

“Well… all right, but just one. I’m not very good at dancing.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, taking my hand. “I can lead.”

~~~~

Dame Gothel ignores. The feeling of panic. Slowly forming in her chest. She forces herself. To breathe.

She can’t decide whether it’s the blisters forcing her to slow down. Or if it’s some bigger, unseen force. Either way. She slows and stands. Her legs tremble and her feet ache and she wants so badly to sit down.

She looks up at a large oak, admiring the royal blue leaves. Maybe it is beautiful, if there is nobody around.

~~~~

“You’re not a bad dancer,” Eugene whispers in my ear as we twirl.

“You’re giving me too much credit.” All I’m doing is following his feet after all. Thank the Storian the boys are supposed to lead. “It’s a slow one. I can’t do the fast ones.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Without warning, he dips me so far down I can feel the top of my head touching the floor. Then, he lifts me up again.

“Don’t do that!” I say, slapping him lightly on the wrist.

He smiles. “Anyone seeing you right now would think you were born a Princess. Look how they’re all staring at you.”

We travel across the floor, faster than we’re supposed to. I feel like he’s doing it just so I can see the other Evers, staring at us with mouths agape.

I don’t answer, but the idea fills me with some sort of glowing light that forces me to smile.

~~~~~

Dame Gothel is just stopping to catch her breath. That’s all. Her lungs aren’t what they once were. That’s why she’s stopping. It’s not that she’s tired of running.
Dame Gothel doesn’t get tired.

She leans against the tree. Taking. Shallow. Breaths. A figure emerges from the edge of the wood.

She has hair so long that it almost touches the floor and that hideously pink Ever uniform and though Dame Gothel strains her eyes, the face of the girl is blurred.

~~~~~

The music stops.

Eugene stops spinning even though I want to keep going. “Well, we said one dance.”

“Sorry?” I blink and look at him.

“The song is over. You only promised me one dance.”

“Oh…” My voice drifts off in disappointment. I wasn’t expecting it to be over so fast. “All right, then.”

“Unless you’d like to keep going?” he asks, eagerness painted all over his boyish grin. “One more song?”

I glance at Mary again. She’s not looking at us anymore, instead talking to some other Prince at the edge of the floor.

“Yes. Let’s do one more.” I don’t want to be done just yet.

~~~~~

The girl doesn’t look at the woman leaning against the tree. Instead, she dances through the grass and admires the flowers without a care in the world.

She gathers some into a bundle in her delicate little fist, singing all the while.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine.”

Dame Gothel feels herself loosing strength just watching the girl. She wants to run away but her feet are planted in the ground as surely as if she were a tree and they were her roots.

“Heal what has been hurt. Change the fate’s design…”

~~~~

Eugene stops asking me if I’m done in between the songs. He already knows the answer. With Mary, dancing feels like a series of rules and standards, unspoken yet observed. With Eugene, it feels like strolling through a forest full of flowers without a care in the world.

~~~~

Another figure comes out of the shadows, so blurry that Dame Gothel can’t see if it’s an Ever or Never, friend or foe. They approach the girl and talk to her, paying Dame Gothel no mind.

The girl stops singing, laughs, and talks to the figure, her back to Dame Gothel, though the much older woman cannot look away.

When the figure leaves the girl alone, the girl watches it retreat into the distance and then, finally, turns her face toward Dame Gothel, staring straight at her with dazzling green eyes and a glowing smile.

Dame Gothel lets out a strangled cry.

Chapter Text

Dame Gothel wakes to the taste of blood.

She lets her head fall back onto the pillow. She would scream, if she had the energy. She’s been having the same dream for weeks, ever since she was forced to watch her daughter board the train bound for the School for Good.

No, she’s been having it since before the girl was born, before that if she’d admit it to herself which she won’t.

She reaches for the cup of water ready on her bedside table and drains it in one gulp.

It makes her feel a little bit better.

She’d thought, foolishly, that she could be spared from these unpleasant dreams, at least for a little while. Apparently nobody escapes the war, even those who sacrifice their whole lives just to have a life of their own. She supposes she had been told that, a long time ago, she just hadn’t listened.

She stretches and gets out of bed, not bothering to rearrange the crumpled blankets or smooth wrinked sheets. There’s no point when you’re no longer trying to raise a little girl.

Dame Gothel selects a red silk dress and puts it on, trying to avoid looking at herself in the mirror because she knows she’ll see the gray hair like a halo around her head, wrinkles making her eyes sag. She doesn’t want to note such obvious weakness.

The dress hangs loosely around her body, looser than the last time she wore it. When was that, a week ago? A month ago? She should buy a new one, but she feels so weak every day that it takes energy just to step outside, let alone deal with the accusatory stares of the people in the Ever village.

Why did she decide to live in an Ever village in the first place? It was quite foolish of her. She should do better next time. She knows next time will never happen, but she points out her own mistakes anyway.

Her hands and arms, which she is forced to look at every moment of every day, are unrecognizable, covered in wrinkes and warts. There was a time, in the School for Evil, when she begged for those warts and scars. They were a sign of Evilness, of power. Now, she fears them. She knows that they’re a sign of a deadline looming ever closer.

How will she protect her daughter?

‘Your nemesis, the one who grows grows weaker as you grow stronger and grows stronger as you grow weaker.’

Be quiet, Lady Lesso. She says to the echoing voice of her former mentor. She used to be so much better at silencing the voices.

‘Only when your nemesis is vanquished, will you be satisfied.’

No. No. It can’t be true.

She had thought herself cunning by adopting the girl. Of course, she had thought, why has nobody else even considered this? I will raise the child as my own. I will make her weak and make sure that she would never kill me.

How couldn’t she have predicted it? The charm of a young Ever, too Good, too pure. How could she have thought herself immune? Dame Gothel has become too fond. And the girl isn’t even here!

How foolish she has become.

If she is honest with herself, ever since Rapunzel had recieved the letter, Dame Gothel knew that all her efforts were fruitless. The Storian had already started their story, hers and Rapunzel’s.

She could only pray in vain to the Schoolmaster that they both reach the end of their story alive.

~~~~

In the days after the Snow Ball, I feel like singing. Yes, Mary’s plan to save her kingdom were foiled, but she isn’t being as cold to me as I thought she would be.

And Eugene and I danced until they had to pull us off the floor. I saw Professor Dovey smile at me after the ball ended.

“Is he your Prince now, then?” Cassandra asks as we walk to Surviving Fairy Tales.

“I’m not sure,” I say. The thought strikes me as odd. “I mean, he said he only ever wanted to go to the Snow Ball with me, and that he liked me better than Mary…”

“But has he talked to you since the Ball?”

“He hasn’t,” I say hesitantly. “But I mean, it’s not like we’ve had a good opportunity since.” He’s always surrounded by people. Princes looking for an alliance, Princesses looking for a partner. How is he supposed to have any private conversations? But still, I can’t help but feel forgotten every single time we have a class together and he doesn’t say anything to me.

We arrive at the patch of Blue Forest that is our designated Surviving Fairy Tale meeting place. Most of the evers are already there, stretching or talking to their friends. Their voices go quiet when we arrive.

“Is it just me, or is everyone glaring at Rapunzel more than usual?” Belle asks.

“It’s not just you.” Pascal walks over to us. “They were all talking about her before you guys got here. They keep asking me why I’m not more mad she danced with another boy all night. Not that they’ve even spoken to me ever before this.”

“What did you say?” Belle asks.

“I told them Rapunzel is her own person and I don’t care what she does.”

Nevers show up together with Yuba leading the way.

“Ah, the evers are already here! That’s good, we can get started right away. I hope your Snow Ball was a success?”

The Nevers cross their arms and grumble while a few Evers share some highlights. When they mention Donna, the Nevers just roll their eyes.

“I could’ve come up with a prank a thousand times better than that one,” one of them says. “Shame she’s the best in the year. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“I’m happy to hear it!” Yuba stops them, thankfully, right when they’re gearing up to tell him about my dance with Eugene. “Ever unity is most important in this stage. Today marks the beginning of preparations for an event involving both Evers and Nevers.”

Chapter Text

As if their attention has been summoned from the depths of Nevermore, the Nevers look up with freshly piqued interest.

“In two weeks, we will have our Trial by Tale.”

Whispered murmurs.

“What’s the Trial by Tale again?” Pascal asks.

“Fight to the death in the Blue Forest between the Evers and the Nevers.” Cassandra whispers back.

“Sounds positively terrifying,” he says.

“It’s good for you that only the top two Evers and the top two Nevers from each Fairy Tale group are allowed to go then.”

“Yeah,” Pascal says faintly, not registering Cassandra’s thinly veiled insult. “Thank the Storian.”

“And even the Evergirls are allowed to use weapons,” Cassandra says, her eyes glowing. “We don’t have to wait for some Prince to save us because they’re our competition too. I’ve been practicing, just in case.”

I grin at Cassandra’s excitement. She would one hundred percent win if she got into the Trial.

“We will spend all of our class time in the next two weeks practicing and having competitions to determine who will be allowed to go.” He stops for a moment to allow for hushed murmurs. He’s good at that.

“As you know, any good Trial by Tale competition requires its competitors to use magic.”

The whispers fall completely silent. The Evergirls don’t even try to glare at me, too busy exchanging shocked and excited glances with each other.

“So, in order to give you all enough time to practice we have decided to unlock your fingerglows.”

Cheers, excited whispers.

“This is an important responsibility. I encourage you all to take it seriously. Even after tracking, only some of you will be allowed to take classes to improve your magic and keep using it when the Storian sees fit to tell your stories. The ones who are not talented enough will have their magic locked away again.”

What is it with the School for Good and Evil and making everything a competition. Why can’t we just receive our fingerglows and use magic whenever we want?

Yuba reaches into his pocket and removes a small silver key. “Make two lines please, Evers on the right, Nevers on the left.

There’s a scramble as everyone pushes and shoves in order to be closer to the front of their respective line. I have to lean to the side in order to see what’s happening.

“Hold out your fingers,” he says to the first people in line. They do so. He puts the key through the skin on the tips of their pointers. I wince just seeing it. After he removes the key and their fingers glow with a colored light that flickers in the dark forest and goes out fairly quickly.

He does the same thing with the next two people. And the next. Each time, they get out of line and we step one place closer, the line growing smaller as the apprehension grows in my stomach.

It’s not as though I’m afraid of magic. I’ve seen Mother Gothel use it all the time and I knew that Evers and Nevers at the School for Good and Evil receive their fingerglows. It’s just that I never even considered…

But here I am, each step taking me closer to some magic I never realized I would have, all to bring me toward a purpose I never really wanted.

“Your finger will glow with a color that reflects who you are inside. That color will be the mark of your magic.”

The kids who already have their magic unlocked stand to the side, trying to make their fingers glow again while we receive our own.

Cassandra steps forward with a fierce expression on her face. She holds out her finger and doesn’t even wince when Yuba sticks the key through her skin. It glows a fierce light blue that reminds me of the moon shining on the ocean.

Belle’s finger glows red like the flower of a rose. She sees the color and her eyebrows furrow. It goes away faster than it did for the other kids.

Pascal, the last person in front of me, receives a glow that’s the same shade of green as his eyes. He smiles and steps out of line.

Then, it’s my turn.

Taking a deep breath, I hold out my finger for Yuba. He inserts the key.

It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would. In fact, all I can feel is a subtle pressure on the tip of my finger and a weird tingling all through my body.

I look down. My finger is the same color as always.

Everyone is staring at me like they can see my finger from all the way in the back. I hurry to hide it in the folds of my skirt (the Evergirl uniforms don’t have pockets, of course.)

“What is it?” I ask.

“Rapunzel,” Belle says, astounded. “Rapunzel, look at your hair!”

I glance down at the blonde strands on my shoulders.

Except, they’re not blonde anymore. Instead, they’re glowing and glittering in the most vibrant gold I’ve ever seen, like the sun shining into the forest.

I laugh and spin in a circle. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” I say, trying to take in every strand. I can’t help the slight nervousness forming in my stomach, though. It’s my finger that’s supposed to glow, and now my hair glowing instead is one more thing that’s not normal about me.

But looking at my glowing locks of gold, it’s hard to feel anything except pure joy, even as the glowing starts to die down, leaving them the same plain blonde they were before.

“Rapunzel,” Belle says from next to me.

I look up. “Yes?”

“You’re holding up the line.”

I glance around me to find identical glares and eye rolls from the other students. “Right,” my face turns red. “Sorry.”

I slide out of the line. The next Ever steps forward, shooting me that all-too-familiar glare.

Chapter Text

All of the other kids spend the rest of the day trying (unsuccessfully), to make their fingers glow again. Yuba told us it took a strong emotion, sometimes a song, so the School for Good is full of Princesses and Princesses with their eyes shut tight, muttering or humming under their breath with their fingers in front of them.

Not me, though. Right after Surviving Fairy Tales, Yuba sends me straight to the Dean’s office.

“So it’s not her finger that glows?” Lady Lesso asks, looking me up and down.

“No,” says Yuba. “Everything else with her magic seems fine, it’s just never happened before. I wasn’t sure how to proceed.”

I shift uncomfortably as they sit, silently observing me as though I’m an interesting specimen at a zoo or museaum.

“You placed the key in her finger?” Professor Dovey asks Yuba, not even looking at me.

“Of course I did. I doubt it would even work if I tried to place it in her hair. It was just her hair that started glowing.”
I wince. Why can’t I just be normal?

“Rapunzel,” Professor Dovey says kindly, making Yuba and Lady Lesso turn to look at me as well. “Can you activate your magic for us, please?”

Are they going to try and take it away from me?

“You’re not in trouble, I promise. We just want to make sure nothing is wrong.”

I shut my eyes the way I saw all the other kids do when I was on my way here. Come on magic, activate.

Lady Lesso’s scoff tells me that my hair remains its normal color. “Are you sure this isn’t just a fluke? A bribe for attention? You Evers are all about external validation, aren’t you?” At least she’s not acting like I’m a Never the way all the Evers do.

“Sometimes it activates with a strong emotion?” Professor Dovey says. “Maybe a Prince or some meaningful moment in your life?”

Eugene’s face floats into my mind.

“I’m too busy for this,” says Lady Lesso. “Just let the girl go and call us if this hair-glowing happens again.”

“Some Evers like to sing a song?” Professor Dovey says. “Maybe some song that summons positive memories for you.”

I rack my brain. Mother Gothel was never the singing type. The only songs I remember learning were little dittys in school or dance parties in the Town Square. And those don’t really spark memories the way Professor Dovey was saying.

I bite my bottom lip. Then I remember. When I was little, Mother Gothel used to sing me to sleep. It was always the same song.

“Flower gleam and glow,” I start, staring at the floor. I hate singing in front of people. “Let your power shine.” It’s like I can feel the power, like heat, moving from the roots of my hair down to the ends. “Make the clock reverse.” I can feel the warmth, like pure sunlight, radiating off the now-golden strands. “Bring back what once was mine.”

Professor Dovey stares at me with her mouth agape.

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design.”

Lady Lesso looks at me with something akin to shock and grudging respect. All I can do is keep singing. I can’t stop.

“Save what has been lost. Bring back what once was mine.”

I swallow. My voice looses some of its strength. “What once was mine.”

I don’t remember when Mother Gothel told me that song, it’s like she was always singing it. I always knew it.

My hair slowly turns from dazzling gold back to plain blonde.

“Well,” says Lady Lesso. “That was definitely something.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my face red. I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. “Why can’t I just have a fingerglow like everyone else?”

“Because you, my dear child, are not like everyone else,” she responds, her face in a mad smile. “Princesses should learn that’s a blessing, not a curse. Nevers aren’t afraid to be different.”

“I don’t want to be a Never.”

She barks a laugh. “Of course you don’t. You’re an Ever!”

Professor Dovey steps in, her voice gentle. “I don’t think there’s any problem with Rapunzel’s hair glowing instead of her finger. If that’s what has happened, it is the Storian’s will and we are in no place to fight against it.”

“Can I go to lunch, then?” I don’t even want to think about all the rumors already being spread about me. Why, why, couldn’t my finger just glow like everyone else’s.

“If it’s alright with you, Clarissa,” Lady Lesso says, “I’d love to give this girl a bit of private tutoring. This may be a sign she has the potiental for some kind of sorcery.”

My heart starts beating out of my chest. “Excuse me?” What would the other Evers say if they know the Dean of the School for Evil offered me private tutoring in witchcraft? After all the work I did to fit in.

“I don’t know,” says Professor Dovey. “I’d rather her focus on her challenges. And I’m not even sure the Schoomaster would let her across the bridge.”

“If I may speak,” Yuba says. “Rapunzel does very well in my class. She has a good chance of getting into the Trial by Tale. If these lessons would give her any kind of advantage… I mean to say, the Evers outcast the poor girl enough.”

“It’s settled, then,” Lady Lesso says as if Yuba never opened his mouth. “I’ll come to the School for Good after school every Friday and see if a Princess can learn sorcery. It should be a pleasant experiment.”

“Wait!”

They all turn to look at me with emotions ranging from shock to impatience.

“Yes?” says Lady Lesso.

“I don’t want to learn witchcraft. I’m an Ever. Evers don’t do witchcraft.”

“Honestly, Clarissa. What do you teach them at that school?” The Dean looks down at me. “I’m teaching you sorcery, not witchcraft. It’s true that Evers are often less talented in magic but there have been occasions when a Princess or Prince was gifted with magic and became an asset to the war. You’re lucky I’ve devoted myself to teaching instead of Evil. Otherwise, your talents would go untrained.”

I don’t feel very lucky. “Everyone’s going to think I’m a witch like Mother Gothel.” I stare down at my feet. And to think, just a few nights ago I was dancing with Eugene and everything was perfect.

“What’s the problem with being like your Mother? She’s a very talented witch.”

“She’s a never.”

“Hm.” Lady Lesso purses her lips. “Good thing magic doesn’t pick sides, and good thing students don’t choose their own curriculum. They don’t know what’s good for them. I’ll see you on Friday, Rapunzel.”

Chapter Text

In just a few hours, I’m sneaking away to a Good Deeds classroom to learn witchcraft from the Dean of Evil.

“Why aren’t you eating anything?” asks Cassandra, looking at me with concern.

“Maybe she just wants to look her best for the Trial by Tale,” Belle says. She didn’t even unwrap her food, instead just watching us eat. “It’s never too late to try and be the best version of yourself.”

“You sound like Professor Anenome,” Cassandra says with a distainful expression. “And I don’t think starving yourself is being the best you can be. How are you supposed to focus in challenges? Here.” She breaks her sandwitch in half and hands one piece to Belle.

Belle stares down at it with pursed lips.

“I’m not going to eat it. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would you? That wouldn’t be very Good.” Cassandra takes a bite out of her own half.

Belle considers her sandwich, purses her lips as if debating her choices, then sighs and takes a bite, chews, and swallows.

“Does anyone want to go over to the Groom Room after class today? My ranks are finally high enough and I heard that the boys have dueling practice.”

Eugene appears out of thin air and the sun seems just a little bit brighter. He grabs a few grapes from my lunch pail, and pops them into his mouth. “That sounds like an amazing idea. You three should come watch me kick butt, no offense Pascal.”

I snort.

“None taken,” Pascal says, stabbing a slice of lettuce with his fork. “I wouldn’t even be participating if I didn’t have to.”

Cassandra rolls his eyes and starts packing up her thinks. “Well, now that Eugene is here, maybe we’d be better off going to the library.”

“Come on, Cass,” Belle says. “Don’t be a spoilsport. It’s unprincesslike.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Eugene sits down next to me.

I glance over at his old group to see Mary staring at me pointedly. She points her chin toward my left and nestles in closer next to the boy she’s sitting with.
In the direction she was pointing, there’s a gaggle of girls, all standing and laughing together. All of them are staring at Eugene.

Well, some of them are staring at me.

They’re focusing on one girl, curly brown hair with comically large hazel eyes and a perfect princess smile. They keep pushing her closer to us.

I rest my head on Eugene’s shoulder. He smiles at me like I’m the most important person in the world. I smile back. I know that he’s not exactly my Prince. I mean,
it’s not like one dance decides anything.

“So, how about it?” he says to me. “Groom Room after classes? I want you there, Cassandra wants you there. I could get a petition of signatures from the School if it would make you feel more welcome.”

I’m not sure he could, actually, but the second he says “after classes” that doesn’t matter. “I can’t,” I say, disappointment bubbling in my chest. I didn’t even want to go before Eugene invited me.

His face falls. “Why?”

“I have… a lesson.”

“What kind of lesson?” he asks, suddenly interested.

I stutter, my eyes dancing all around for any kind of story that would hide the fact that I’m having a lesson with the Dean of Evil.

“The kind of lesson you shouldn’t ask about, Flynn Rider,” Cassandra says, noticing my plight and (thankfully) saving me before I can make a fool of myself.

“Oh,” his face turns red. I didn’t know it could do that. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” I say, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Cassandra who nods subtly. “It’s just private, that’s all.”

“Completely understand.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender.

“Is the Prince sword battle for a school assignment or just for fun?”

“A mixture. The Professor told us to impress him if we wanted to get out of reading fifty chapters on swordsmanship ettiquette that we have to follow even though the Nevers won’t.” He’s off, explaining who came up with the idea and why, how it’s a little bit secret but he suspects all the teachers know about it and all the Nevers who heard about it are placing bets. Even though they can’t watch, they’ll surely hear who wins somehow.

I nod at the right moments, feeding off his excitement and finally eating something.

~~~~

“There you are. For Storian’s sake, girl. Didn’t your Princess Ettiquette professor teach you how to be punctual?” Lady Lesso looks up and scowls

“Sorry.” I busy myself with closing the door as quietly as possible to avoid looking at her. “It was just hard to get away.”

I was walking Eugene and Pascal to the Groom Room.

“What is it with Evers and apologies? Just don’t be late next time.”

“Sorry,” I say.

“What did I just say? You seem too slow to teach. My efforts may just go through one ear and out the other. Maybe I shouldn’t be wasting my time with you.”

I bite my tongue to avoid apologizing again.

“What are you still standing at the door for?” she snaps. “Come over here so I can get a better look at you.”

My feet feel separated from my body as they carry me closer to Lady Lesso. With her attitude, her upright posture, I feel like I am face to face with Mother Gothel again. The room is warm but I feel cold all over as she looks me up and down, then down and up. “Unaturally long hair.” It’s almost all the way down my back now.

“I’ve never cut it, not for a long time.”

“I would assume so. The other Princesses are probably jealous. I heard long blonde hair is the standard now.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say. “They’re normally too busy being mad at me for not fitting in to be jealous of my hair, especially when Professor Anenome can’t seem to teach me how to make it look good.”

She offers me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sit. Let’s see how much you can learn.”

Chapter Text

After an hour, I’m led to believe there is nothing Lady Lesso can teach me.

It takes me five tries to get my hair to glow again. Lady Lesso spends a moment admiring it with something less like admiration and something more like hunger in her eyes. It makes me feel itchy all over. Then, she tells me to try doing something with it, anything.

I try lifting a teacup without touching it. I try smashing the same teacup without using my hands and then I try fixing it after Lady Lesso throws it on the ground. “Oh, no need to be so dramatic. It’s only a tea cup.”

When my hair turns back to blonde, she sighs, stands up, and tells me to go. I pray to the Storian and the Schoolmaster that she’ll decide I’m not worth teaching but: “Same time same place next week, then. You’ll learn how to do some kind of magic if my life depends on it.”

~~~~

I’ve missed dinner. Maybe I’ll be able to steal something from the kitchen.

I look left and right before slowly opening the door to my room. After multiple mistakes and attempts I’ve learned how to stop it from creaking.

I slowly, carefully, step through the door and I slowly, carefully, close the door with only a small click.

“Where have you been?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh. I had been hoping against hope Mary would be asleep, or hanging out with her friends and not paying me any mind. I twirl in place to face her. “Why do you care?” I scoff.

“Because I saw you leave right after dropping Eugene off at the competition. What kind of Princess just walks out when her Prince is fighting?”

My face burns with shame and I look down. “I just had something that I needed to do.”

“What was it?”

“I can’t tell you!” I say defiantly. “Why would I want to, anyway?” She was only nice to me when I gave up Eugene for her. She has no reason to now. I wish she’d stop pretending.

Her face falls. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You have a huge responsibility now, if Eugene is serious about making you the Queen of Corona. You’ve gone from being some commoner to having a whole kingdom on your shoulders.”

I know that it’s long past cerfew, but I immediately want to open the door and run out just to avoid this conversation. “Honestly, I’m not even sure I want to be his girlfriend, so maybe cool it with the ‘Queen of Corona’ stuff.”

“Oh, please. He’s been obsessed with you ever since he first saw you. Now you have to be a Leader or he’ll have to find someone else. Corona can’t have a Follower for a Queen.”

“This feels quite out of character for you,” I say. “Weren’t you obsessed with stopping me from becoming the Queen of Corona?”

Mary sighs and looks at something far away. “I was being stupid, thinking I could control a Prince. They can’t be controlled. But maybe if you become Queen, you can help my kingdom!”

I sigh. “When will you stop doing everything for your kingdom and start doing things for yourself? Who was that boy you were with at lunch, anyway? You seem to have moved on from Eugene pretty quickly.”

“He’s a commoner who can’t do anything for me except provide companionship which I don’t need, not when I have a kingdom to take care of! Don’t act like you know anything about duty.” She crosses her arms.

“I know that it’s not supposed to control you until you can’t do anything else.”

“You don’t even know what it’s like to have a kingdom that relies on you. You don’t even have a family! All you have is a Never mother who doesn’t even love you!”

I wince.

Mary covers her mouth with her hand, her face pale. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was Evil.”

“My mother loves me,” I say, more to myself than anyone. She does love me. She said so before I left for the school. A mother’s love doesn’t change just because she and her daughter are on different sides of the same war neither of us chose to be a part of.

“Where were you, Rapunzel?” Her voice is gently now, kinder, but I know better.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You mean you don’t want to or you actually can’t?”

“I won’t, and you can’t make me.”

“Interesting.” She sits on her bed and inspects her nails. “Does it have something to do with your hair glowing?”

I stare at her in surprise. “How do you know about that? You’re not in my Surviving Fairy Tales group.”

“I do have friends, you know. Unlike some people. Your magic hair is already all over the school. I don’t know if Eugene knows,” she continues, looking up and correctly interprating my expression. “But I think we both know that you’re the worst person to have weird magic.”

“It’s not-”

“It’s not normal. If something’s not normal, that makes it weird. Come on, Rapunzel. You’ve been here almost a year now. Haven’t you learned anything?”

I give a little sigh. “It’s not like I can control the things about me that aren’t normal. It’s not like I chose to have my hair glow.”

“It’s just another reason for people to bully you!”

“Not for being Evil, thankfully.”

“You don’t know what’s good for you. I’m only trying to help.”

“Oh really? And how exactly are you trying to help me?”

“I-” her voice cracks and I immediately feel bad. Mary’s a jerk, but that’s not a reason for me to be a jerk too.

“I was having a magic lesson with Lady Lesso.”

“The Dean of Evil!?” she screeches.

I frantically hush her. “Not so loud! Someone will hear.”

“Well they’re all going to figure it out and make it something worse. They already know about your hair.”

My throat burns at the unfairness of it all and I feel the warmth of my hair as it starts to glow gold once more. I blink tears out of my eyes. “Nevers don’t even have glowing hair.”

“Come on, Rapunzel. Tears are for finding a Prince, not feeling sorry for yourself. That’s what my mother used to tell me. And nothing is ever as big of a deal as you think. Let’s make a new rumor.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, how about this,” Mary says after a few seconds of silence. We’re sitting on the floor of our dorm with an array of drawings and notes in front of us.

I get my notebook ready for Mary’s newest idea.

“Lady Lesso is trying to find out how you could possibly be so Good when your mother is so Evil. You belong here so much that she’s trying to create you as an example to all the outsider Evers in the world.”

“I’d prefer one that doesn’t mention my Mother at all,” I say, but write the idea in my notebook and rip out the page, placing it with the others on the floor. “Maybe I’m tutoring you in Good Deeds?”

She throws a pillow in my face. “Please, like I need your help in Good classes.”

“I don’t know, you don’t score as well in Good Deeds as you do in all the other classes. Not as well as you used to.”

“That’s just because it’s impossible to study for! What, you’re just supposed to just ‘know’ the right thing? And then if you do and it’s not what you would instinctively, you get no points. How is that fair?”

“Funny, that’s actually how I feel about all the other classes.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us thinking.

“What if we just get as close to the truth as possible?” Mary says finally. “You’re in tutoring for your magic because it’s your hair that glows instead of your finger like everyone else.”

“Yeah…” I say, writing it down in the notebook hesitantly. “Should we say that it’s Lady Lesso giving me the lessons?”

Mary thinks for a moment. “Best not to I think,” she decides. “That’s the part of it that’s suspicious.”

“Fine.” I rip out the page and move all the others to the side of the floor, placing this one in the middle. “Why are you helping me?”

Mary sits in silence. When I’m about to open my mouth and ask her again, she finally speaks. “Because you’re right. Maybe I deserve to do things for myself sometimes, or my friends. My kingdom doesn’t exist just for me so even though I exist for my kingdom, maybe I’m allowed to just be my own person sometimes. And anyway, you’re Good, Rapunzel. That means it has to be Good to help you.”

~~~~

I used to love my Surviving Fairy Tales class, but now the only thing we do is practice our magic and make our fingers glow and I am dreading it.

Every single time I hum my little song, I close my eyes and pray to the Storian that the past month has been a fluke and it will be my finger that glows. Every Never is managing mean pranks or spells that sting or make the Evergirls wake up to find their makeup full of mold. Every Ever is learning how to turn into an animal or light their own path. I still can’t do anything.

“It’s okay,” Belle says after turning her notebook from blue to gold and back again. “Evers don’t really need magic anyways.”

“It sure makes things easier though,” Cassandra says, transforming a blade of grass into a daisy. “I mean, imagine if the Princess in Rumpelstiltskin could weave the straw into gold herself? Maybe then the Storian wouldn’t have named it after the Never instead.” The Evers are still salty about that, I’d noticed, even though they won in the end.

“Or she could’ve just paid attention in Princess Ettiquette. I mean, how can you be a Good leader without even remembering to ask a person who helps you for their name?”

“She was probably just distracted because she didn’t realize that the King was her Prince.”

“Why was her Prince threatening to kill her anyways?” I cut in. “That never seemed very princelike to me.”

“It was different back then. The Leaders weren’t even named most of the time. Stories are different now.”

“If you say so,” I say. “Though I still don’t get why you’re all obsessed with the Storian knowing your name. I thought it was all about the war.”

Cassandra twirls the daisy between her fingers, her brow furrowed in concentration. It turns red for a moment, then back to creamy white. “It’s what sets the Leaders and the Followers apart from the mogrifs, isn’t it? That’s why you work so hard at school.”

I give a little hum. “If I’m a Leader, I’ll be sure to say the name of whatever Mogrif is in my story at least a thousand times. Then the Storian will have to name them in the story.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Belle says. “It’s not proper. The mogrifs are supposed to shed all sense of self. And anyway, sometimes you don’t even know who they were before they were turned.”

I wish she’d stop quoting the lines of the textbook that make the weight in my stomach grow. “You weren’t even a part of this world last year.”

“That doesn’t change anything. I belong here just as much as everyone else.”

“Yeah? Even though about eighty percent of Readers become Mogrifs?”

“I knew my odds when I came here.” Why is she always acting so sure of herself? Doesn’t she realize that she’s being forced to fight in a war she never signed up for, just like the rest of us?

“Rapunzel,” Cassandra says, tapping my shoulder. “Your hair is glowing again. Are you sure you don’t want to try any of the spells?”

I take a few deep breaths and my hair goes back to blonde. I don’t want my golden hair. Lady Lesso is teaching me magic as if I were a witch. I don’t want to be a witch. I want to be Good.

~~~~

Dame Gothel blinks out of unconsiousness for the first time in a week.

Though one glance in the mirror tells her that her face is still wrinkled and warty, her hair still silvery-gray, she feels stronger than she has in a long time.

Perhaps when the girl comes home, everything will remain as it was.

~~~~