UnTwisted

by Elise Allen

  “Oh no…” she said, desperately shifting her weight to avoid a large leather bag. “I’m sorry, I—aaargh!”

  The scream came as she thwacked into a desk and bent over double, sprawling out over books and papers.

  “So you’re Sara,” the girl seated there said. “The clumsy one.”

  “No, I’m Flissa,” she admitted. “The exceptionally embarrassed one.”

  “Nice to know the princess of Kaloon takes school so seriously,” sniped a harsh male voice from the front of the room.

  Flissa forced herself upright and turned to look at the man. He was younger than Flissa’s parents, with rumpled dark hair, dark eyes, and cheeks whose slight sunkenness was somewhat hidden by a scruff of a beard. He wore his brown teacher’s robe open, and Flissa saw the black leather pants and wrinkled white shirt beneath it. He was clearly agitated. His jaw worked, and his neck twitched to the side a bit when he spoke. “Good to know that integrating with Untwisteds like myself is so important to you.”

  “It is important to us,” Flissa said, her face burning with shame. “To me. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, I just—”

  “I did it to her,” Loriah said as she walked in the door—without wheels on her feet, Flissa noticed. “Pranked her.” Loriah held up her right hand with the middle three fingers raised, a signal that represented the three-petaled rigdilly, and one Flissa had learned the Untwisteds would give each other to signal solidarity. “My bad.”

  Loriah tilted her fingers to point at Flissa. The scent of lavender filled the room and Flissa felt the wheels disappear from her feet. The teacher gave Loriah a smirk.

  “No harm, then,” he said. “Find a seat, both of you. The bell will ring in a minute.”

  As he turned his back, occupying himself at the chalkboard in front of the class, the girl on whose desk Flissa had sprawled spoke up. “Shame,” she said. “I thought you’d made the wheels yourself. I heard you’re a Mage.”

  Flissa turned to look at her. Even though the girl was sitting, Flissa could tell she was tall, with long, wavy brown hair that hung over her shoulders. Her eyes were startlingly emerald green. She wore a cropped leather jerkin over a cotton blouse with leather leggings and had the hardened look of a lifetime in the Twists…but Flissa didn’t want to make Sara’s mistake and assume anything.

  “I am a Mage,” Flissa said, though the words felt strange in her throat. She wasn’t ashamed of her powers, but the idea that they were hers was still so new, it felt like a lie to claim them as her own.

  “Good for us all, then,” she said. “We should have a little magic in the palace.”

  Flissa considered educating her on the fact that magic had been in the palace forever—that she had in fact been raised by Katya, a Mage so powerful and trusted that she was the first elected to the General Council, and Primka, a Magical Animal. She wanted to speak loudly enough that the teacher would hear, and tell this girl that the royal family—at least her royal family—had always been on the side of what was right, they’d just been raised with the wrong facts. She wanted to tell her all of this and convince her…but her mother had expressly told her and Sara to be nice to everyone, and she didn’t want to seem like she was starting an argument.

  “I’m sorry I fell onto your desk,” she said instead.

  The girl shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse. I’m Zinka. Untwisted, if you’re wondering.”

  “I’m not,” Flissa said quickly.

  “’Course you were. Everyone does. About everybody.” Zinka darted her eyes to the back of the room. “Your friend’s waiting for you. You should probably head back to her before Teacher Eldridge catches her saving you a seat and realizes she didn’t actually prank you.”

  Flissa followed her gaze. Loriah had found a desk in the back. She sat sideways in it, her legs extended so they rested on the chair next to her. Her eyes bored holes in Flissa, and when Flissa met them, Loriah raised her eyebrows and cocked her head, nostrils flared. She wanted Flissa to get over there now.

  “Thanks,” Flissa said, though something about Zinka made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure if the girl approved of her or not, and for some reason—maybe because Zinka was the first new person Flissa had met at Maldevon Academy—she cared. “I’m Flissa, by the way. I mean, I kind of already said that, but not officially, and—”

  “Go,” Zinka said, nodding toward Loriah.

  Right, Flissa thought. Doesn’t approve.

  Flissa scrambled back to the seat Loriah had saved for her. “Thanks for covering for me,” she said.

  Loriah nodded, then stared straight ahead and pretended no one else existed, which was her go-to state with everyone except Flissa, Sara, and Galric. Apparently that was how they were going to play things around Teacher Eldridge as well. At least for now. Flissa took the time to scan the room as the last students trickled in. Maldevon Academy was required for all human Kaloonians ages twelve through eighteen, plus all Magical Animals at the same developmental level. That was a wide age span, so the school was divided by year: first-years through completion-years. First-, second-, and third-years took classes together, as did fourth through completion. This worked out well for Flissa. While she and Sara were first-years, Galric and Loriah were seconds, but they still all had the chance to see each other in class.

  Gazing at the other seventeen students in the room, Flissa couldn’t really distinguish between firsts, seconds, and thirds, nor could she absolutely tell forever-Kaloonians from Untwisteds, or where in Kaloon anyone came from, but there were some hints. She saw a couple of girls she was sure she recognized from royal balls, though back then they didn’t have sour looks on their faces, nor did they sit slumped in their seats with their arms crossed angrily over their chests. When one of them caught Flissa looking, she nudged the other and pointed. They both quickly smiled and waved, sitting up a bit straighter. Flissa smiled back.

  Flissa also noticed a boy with spiky purple hair and round glasses who might have been one of Krystal’s friends, but she wasn’t sure. Like many of the other students, he looked happy to be in class and chatted with people he knew while he waited for the lesson to begin. Aside from Loriah and now Zinka, everyone else was new to Flissa, including an owl and a large raccoon, and Flissa wondered if her mother would think it was her job to get to know them all. Just the idea exhausted her.

  Then a loud BONG rang through the room. Immediately their teacher turned away from the blackboard and grinned.

  “I’m Teacher Eldridge,” he said. “Welcome to History of Kaloon, where you’ll learn the real story about how this glorious land we call home actually came to be.” His neck twitched slightly to the side and back again. “Our first lesson takes us back to the very beginning of Grosselor’s rise, when he fooled King Lamar into basically turning Kaloon over to the Keepers of the Light, and introduces the question we’ll ponder all year long: The royal family—brilliant coconspirators, or painfully ignorant dupes?”

  He grinned and looked right at Flissa as he said it. She turned red but resisted the urge to sink down in her seat. Instead she raised her hand.

  “Yes, we have a question from Princess Flissa.”

  “Are those truly the only two options?” Flissa asked.

  Teacher Eldridge’s head twitched to the side. His grin grew tighter, but it didn’t fade. “Yup, just those two.”

  “With all due respect, that seems like you’re limiting our ability to think creatively, and form and express our own opinions based on what we learn,” Flissa said. “Isn’t that what school is all about?”

  Teacher Eldridge looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling before looking back at Flissa. “Tell you what,” he said. “If you can write a…let’s say…ten-page essay by the end of the week convincing me, I’ll believe there are other options. How’s that?”

  Next to her, Flissa heard Loriah snort. Flissa smiled. “Challenge accepted.”

  The rest of Teacher Eldridge’s lecture wasn’t inaccurate, but it was definitely the ver
sion of history least flattering to the royal family. Flissa didn’t interrupt once. She even took copious notes. When the bell rang to end class, she played into Loriah’s earlier lie and rose without even looking at her friend. She was several steps down the hall before Loriah’s pounding feet caught up with her.

  “You’re psyched, right?” Loriah asked. “Eldridge totally thought he was blasting you, and you’re loving it.”

  “Ten pages in a week?” Flissa said. “I could write ten pages tonight. I could’ve written ten pages in class. I want to start it right now. I can’t wait for him to read what I’ve got to say.”

  They laughed together, then a dry voice cut them off. “Hey, besties, wait up.”

  They turned and saw Zinka striding their way. She was even taller than Flissa had imagined, easily half a head taller than Galric. She could pass for a fourth- or fifth-year, though she couldn’t be more than a third to be in their class.

  Loriah scowled. “We’re not your besties.”

  Zinka rolled her eyes. “I know that; I meant with each other.” She flashed Loriah the three-fingered Untwisted sign, then turned to Flissa. “Nice work standing up to Eldridge,” she said. “Where’re you headed?”

  Flissa took out her schedule scroll and looked at it. “Magic Lab,” she said. “Lower leg of the K.”

  “Me too,” Zinka said. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “I’ve got Literature,” Loriah said, making a face. “Lower K-stem.” She peeked at Flissa’s schedule to compare. “Looks like I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Flissa was suddenly terrified that once she and Loriah were out of each other’s sight, they wouldn’t connect again all day. “I’ll look for you,” she said. “Save me a seat.”

  “Sure,” Loriah said noncommittally, then she continued down the hall while Flissa and Zinka branched off through the main atrium.

  “Guess you’ve gotten a lot of that,” Zinka said. “People like Eldridge.”

  “Actually, no,” Flissa admitted. “After Kaloonification, Sara and I traveled all over with our parents, and everyone seemed very happy.”

  “’Cause your folks shielded you, I bet. Didn’t want to subject the precious princesses to anything they wouldn’t like. No offense,” she added before Flissa could object. “I’m not saying it came from you. Just the people around you. Maybe the people around your parents too, I don’t know. They didn’t do you any favors, though. People want things to be all hearts and rainbows with Kaloonification, but they’re just not.”

  “Why?” Flissa asked. “This is the way things used to be before Grosselor. The way they should have been all along. Everyone should be happy.”

  “Really? Everyone?” Zinka asked. “Did you see those girls in class? The ones with the fancy dresses, like they’re going to a palace ball instead of school? The ones who kept looking around and whispering? Bet you anything they’ve got titles. Duchesses, countesses, viscountesses…am I right?”

  “Countesses, I believe,” Flissa admitted. “I’ve met them once or twice.”

  “Of course you have. Their lives were good. They were rich, they were powerful, and as long as the Keepers of the Light kept everyone with magic locked up in the Twists or hidden away, they’d stay rich and powerful. You think they’re happy with Kaloonification?”

  “They should be,” Flissa said. “Just because a person or animal has magic and it’s legal now, that doesn’t mean they’re going to take anyone’s money and power.”

  “Sure it does,” Zinka said. “It already started with the General Council. Your parents used to be in charge of everything—at least they thought they were. Now they’re sharing their power with a General Council filled with Mages and Magical Animals.”

  “And Genpos,” Flissa noted. “Everyone’s included.”

  “And that’s the problem,” Zinka said. “Not for me, but for the ballgown girls. If you wanted power before, you made nice with the royal family and you kissed up to the Keepers of the Light. That’s all people had to do, and they had it made. Now there’s a General Council, and the Genpos on it aren’t even the ones who had power before. I’m up on things. I know. There’s a couple Untwisteds on there, some Kaloonians from the poorer villages…you mixed things up.”

  “Yes!” Flissa said. She was frustrated that Zinka knew so much but still didn’t seem to understand. “My parents want everyone represented. That’s the point.”

  “Right!” Zinka said. “But not everybody wants things mixed up. If you were on top before Kaloonificaiton, mixing things up can only bring you down. People don’t like that. Maybe your parents don’t care, but they’re not exactly normal Kaloonian royals. Their kids are Mages. You think they would have been so excited about changing Kaloon if there really had been just one, non-magical Princess Flissara?”

  Flissa opened her mouth to answer, but then she closed it again. Would they have wanted to do the right thing and revolt against the Keepers if Flissa and Sara hadn’t been twins?

  It was impossible to answer, really. If they hadn’t been twins…well, they wouldn’t have survived Mitzi’s curse, for starters. But if there had been no Mitzi, then Queen Latonya never would have been cursed, and the royal family never would have learned the truth about Grosselor, so Zinka’s whole question was moot.

  But if someone had told them the truth…if someone had come to the king and queen and their non-magical Princess Flissara and explained what Grosselor was really doing, would any of them have believed it?

  Flissa didn’t know. She liked to think they would, if the evidence was there, but she honestly wasn’t sure.

  Instead of answering Zinka, she asked another question. “Okay, so maybe some rich and powerful people aren’t happy with Kaloonification—yet,” she said. “What about all the Untwisteds? What about everyone who has magic or signs of magic and doesn’t have to live in fear anymore? Shouldn’t they all be happy?”

  “Kinda,” Zinka said.

  “Kinda?!”

  “Hey, look, I’m thrilled to be out of the Twists,” Zinka said. “I was born there. My parents died when I was little and I was alone there. It was bad. But now I’m out…and it’s like that’s it. There’s no consequences for anyone. All the people who sent my parents away…yeah, Grosselor and his followers are gone, but what about everyone else? What about the people who ratted out Mages? Or all the people who didn’t say anything, but looked the other way, even if they knew the Keepers were wrong? They just get to go on, with their families and their homes and their roots, while people like me have to start all over again. Here’s our class.”

  Flissa had been so stunned by Zinka’s words she’d actually forgotten they were walking to class. Now Zinka gestured to a melted-wax archway on their right, but Flissa wasn’t ready to walk in. Not yet. She touched Zinka’s arm so the girl would stop walking.

  “You’re right,” she said. “What you’re saying…it’s obvious, and it makes perfect sense, and I’m embarrassed I never saw it that way. I’m sorry.”

  Zinka smiled a real smile that warmed her emerald eyes. “I’m glad,” she said. “That means a lot.”

  She nodded toward the classroom, and Flissa walked in with her, side by side. Even though their conversation had been heavy, she felt buoyant.

  Maybe Sara wouldn’t be the only one to find new friends at school.

  Maybe Flissa had just found one too.

  Sara was already in the Magic Lab classroom when Flissa walked in. She hadn’t had a long walk to get there; her first class was Ethics, held in an outdoor classroom. Two ponies were in the class, and Sara had tried to make conversation by telling them she had friends who were magical horses and asking if they knew Gus and Klarney.

  The ponies had given her a withering look that Sara was starting to understand all too well. She’d said something wrong.

  “No,” said the chestnut pony with the long black mane, “not all magical ponies and horses know each other.”

  “We shouldn’t be surprised,” the g
ray-and-white pony said to her friend. “Anastasia said she’s species-ist.”

  Sara felt like she’d been smacked. “What? No! Who said that? Who’s Anastasia?” Then she realized. “Is that the pig?”

  “Boar!” the two ponies spat in unison. Then they turned their backs on Sara and flicked their tails at her as she protested.

  “Boar! Yes! I meant boar! That was just a mistake!”

  The ponies wouldn’t turn around, and once Sara realized the entire class was watching her have a conversation with two pony butts, she moved to one of the tree stumps that doubled as seating for the human students—not the kind of place she’d planned to sit when she put on her beautiful gown this morning—and did her best to be inconspicuous for the rest of the class. When it was over she was the first to leave and quickly made her way to Magic Lab.

  The classroom was at the very end of the K’s lower leg, and it was enormous. Like everything at Maldevon Academy, the tall, domed room had no regular shape—it was circular but dripped and drooped in odd spots, and the six misshapen arcs of stained-glass windows had bled together to make each one a twisted, dreamlike version of what was pictured—like the image of Maldevon that had become a vibrantly colorful grotesque, with a giant toothy mouth stretching vertically across the window and a single giant blue eye on top. The room itself, created by magic and used to practice magic, seemed alive. Its walls expanded and contracted at regular intervals, like it was breathing. There was no furniture, just a large circular patch of well-manicured soft orange grass that grew impossibly out of the varnished wood floor.

  Sara didn’t make eye contact with anyone else in the room. She was still eager to meet new people and make a name for herself, but so far everything she’d tried had been a complete disaster. Better to wait for Flissa and tackle this class as a unified front. Maybe they could even go to Amala and ask for more classes together, like Flissa had suggested. It wouldn’t set that bad an example.