by Shannon Hale
In the oldest part of the book, Raven discovered a page that was hauntingly different.
NAME: BELLA SISTER
STORY: THE TWO SISTERS
DESTINY: THE CRUEL GIRL WHO TRIES TO DROWN HER SISTER AND SO IS CURSED WITH UGLINESS
SIGNATURE:
Blank. It was blank. Whoever this Bella Sister was, she hadn’t signed the book. But… but everyone signed. Didn’t they?
Had Bella refused? Rebelled? The possibility tingled and sparked inside Raven as if she’d swallowed a firecracker. Raven had never heard of the tale of the Two Sisters, but clearly Bella Sister was destined to be a villain, just like Raven.
If I didn’t have to be the Evil Queen…
Her heart pounded; her stomach felt full of fire moths. Maybe Raven could refuse, too. Maybe she could rebel. Maybe she wouldn’t sign the book.
But what would happen then?
Apparently, when Bella Sister hadn’t signed, her tale had disappeared from history, since Raven had never heard of it. But what about Bella herself? Had she disappeared? Died? Raven felt a warm, pressing purpose rise up inside her. She had to find out more about Bella Sister. She had to understand what the next chapter held for those who didn’t sign.
Raven locked up and left.
As she crept down the hall, she heard shouting from the direction of Coach Gingerbreadman’s gingerbread office.
“As a general rule, Mr. and Miss Crumb, if something has a door or a wall or windows, it’s a structure, not a snack!”
THERE WERE MIRRORS EVERYWHERE IN Ever After High. And whenever Raven passed by one, the visuals streamed directly to Apple’s Compact Mirror. That Humphrey was a genius! And his rap was a little bit catchy.
“Her name is Apple, and I can’t grapple,” Apple sang softly to herself as she watched Raven pass the mirror in the Hall of Armor and enter the faculty wing. For some reason she dropped candy on the floor, then went back to Grimm’s office.
There was Blondie Lockes. She opened the office door. Blondie left, but wait… Raven stayed. Raven Queen! Using Blondie to break into the headmaster’s office! Apple felt her pale cheeks flush a flattering pink.
There were plenty of mirrors in Milton Grimm’s office. Through them, Apple spied on Raven speaking to the Storybook of Legends and opening it with a key.
A high wall mirror in the office gave an excellent view of Raven staring at her own blank page, thumbing the line where her signature would soon go.
But what happened next set Apple pacing in her dorm room. Raven found an old page with no signature at all. She just stood there, examining the signature-less page as the minutes ticked by.
No, Apple thought. Raven couldn’t be considering that.
Could she?
No one could honestly consider doing that.
But then again, someone had. Right there, a signature-less page. A story completely abandoned.
Apple’s pacing became frantic. She had to do something. She raced down to the faculty lunchroom.
Baba Yaga was there. Alone. Except for a troop of Shoemaker’s Elves. As small as mice and dressed in tiny knit shirts, pants, and caps, they squeaked happily to one another and scurried around the counter making sandwiches. But Apple didn’t really count them as company. Shoemaker’s Elves were notoriously bad at conversation.
“Pardon me, Madam Baba Yaga, do you know if the headmaster is coming here for lunch?” Apple tried to smile, but it wrinkled her nose. A cockroach appeared to be making a leisurely journey through Baba Yaga’s long gray hair.
“I believe he is, at the moment, catapulting cabbages over a wall. You could wait.” Baba Yaga spoke the words like a challenge, one eyebrow raised.
Apple would take that challenge. She sat primly on a chair, her hands folded in her lap, her ankles crossed.
Baba Yaga stared at her. Apple stared at the clock. The tick-tick-ticks seemed to come minutes apart.
“You don’t have black hair,” Baba Yaga said suddenly.
Apple sighed. “No, I don’t.” The older generation just couldn’t let the blond-hair thing go.
“Your mother had black hair. It was part of the story. Snow-white skin, ebony-black hair, bloodred lips.”
“I guess when it’s my story, that part will change, since I was born a blond.”
Baba Yaga leaned forward and said, “I find you extremely disappointing.”
Apple swallowed. She decided she preferred Baba Yaga’s stares to Baba Yaga’s conversation. Apple was glad this old witch wasn’t her advisor. Poor Raven! Of course, everything wasn’t roses and peaches for Apple, either. The advisor of the princesses, Wonderland’s White Queen, insisted they address her as “Mrs. Her Majesty the White Queen” at all times and made them imagine six impossible things before every Crownculus class.
Headmaster Grimm entered the faculty lunchroom, and was it Apple’s imagination, or did the lights grow brighter?
“Apple White! How lovely to see you, Your Highness. Would you care for a sandwich?” A dozen Shoemaker’s Elves lifted a plate above their heads, offering it to Apple. Between two slices of bread, she could see a whole fish, pickles, and a thick layer of grape jelly.
“I… uh…”
“Just ate, perhaps? I understand.” The headmaster whispered, “The Shoemaker’s Elves are better at making shoes than sandwiches.”
Apple smiled kindly at the wee little creatures as they lifted a huge turkey leg on a crane made of chopsticks and lowered it onto peanut butter toast.
“Looks fine to me,” said Baba Yaga, digging a spoon into a ham sandwich that was sopping with milk.
“Headmaster, I came because… well, I’m concerned about Raven Queen.”
Baba Yaga looked up from her sandwich to glare again at Apple. A fat bead of milk dripped off a wart on her chin.
“I adore Raven!” Apple assured her. “She’s my roommate, my story companion, and… and my friend!”
Baba Yaga just kept glaring.
“Headmaster, could we talk in private?”
“Certainly, Your Highness,” he said. “Let’s go to my office.”
Apple blanched. What if Raven was still there? She hadn’t planned on telling Headmaster Grimm about the breaking-and-entering part. She didn’t want to get Raven so deeply in trouble she would be expelled from Ever After High! What would happen to their shared story then?
He put his key into the lock, turning it. Apple didn’t hear a click. The door was already unlocked. Had he noticed? He opened the door.
Raven! No Raven. Raven was gone. Apple exhaled.
Headmaster Grimm gestured her to a plush student throne and sat in his own grand chair behind his desk.
“You were saying…”
Apple cleared her throat. “I have reason to believe that Raven… that she… that she’s actually thinking about not signing the Storybook of Legends at all.”
Headmaster Grimm’s forehead creased as if he were in great pain. “I feared that might be the case. Oh, to have stewardship of the young and have to watch them make foolish, dangerous mistakes! It pains this old heart, my dear.”
Apple nodded, her eyes tearing up in sympathy.
“Does she realize—does she truly understand—that if she does not sign, she will simply cease to exist?” asked Headmaster Grimm. “And your story, Apple White, your story, too, unravels without an Evil Queen. I wish I could simply force students to make wise choices, but that is impossible. I am shackled, I’m afraid, able to only offer counsel and guidance.”
His voice sounded so heavy and full of pain. Apple’s eye released one tender tear.
“I want you to know, Headmaster, that I will do everything I can to keep Raven on the right path. Everything.”
“That is a comfort,” Headmaster Grimm said with a sad smile. “I’m glad you take this matter as seriously as I do. Raven will be brought to the light. How could she not, with a friend such as yourself? As you will one day be a noble and clever queen to your subjects, Apple White, I know you will
be a noble and clever friend to Raven.”
Apple beamed. He understood her! He’d noticed her tireless work in the Royal Student Council and the hours she spent checking in with even the smallest of students. Headmaster Grimm, at the least, saw the potential in her beyond just a pretty face. She would not let him down.
With a hearty farewell, Apple practically skipped out of his office and off to find Raven. She had a mission, and she embraced it completely. She had good reason to.
When Apple was six years old, she had fallen down a well.
She’d been chasing a dragonfly and climbed onto the well’s edge. Then… a seemingly endless fall that ended in a freezing splash, struggle, and gasp for life. She treaded water, her heavy petticoats pulling her down. She didn’t have the breath to either scream or sing for help. It was the first time in her life that she’d ever felt alone. Or cold. Or really, truly scared.
Every night before bed, her mother had told her a story that should have been frightening: Scary Evil Queen. Huntsman ordered to cut out her heart. Lost in dark woods with grabby trees. Dwarves, dwarves, more dwarves. Old peddler lady giving her a strangling ribbon. Old peddler lady giving her a poisoned comb. Old peddler lady giving her a poisoned apple. Crunch. Gasp. Faint (beautifully). Dead sleep. Cold glass coffin. Empty dreams. Then… kiss. Wake. Prince! Cheering dwarves. Huge choreographed dance number. Happily Ever After.
Even the scary parts of the Snow White story never scared Apple, because it was known. It was her mother’s story, and her mother assured her that one day that same story would be hers.
Treading cold water in the well, feeling her legs tire, her face start to sink under, the cruel, smooth walls slick to her grasping fingers, six-year-old Apple changed. She realized that the real world was much, much scarier than any fairytale. Only in her own story would she be safe.
It took two minutes for her servants, her parents, and a horde of woodland creatures to find her and pull her out of the well. Two very long minutes. By the time she was wrapped up in fifteen blankets before a fire, worried bunnies huddled on her lap, shoulders, and head, Apple had made an important decision. She wanted her story. She wanted it ASAP. The sooner she was in that nice, safe, familiar tale—poisoned fruit and all—the better.
Her story wouldn’t happen without Raven. So Apple had to help Raven onto the right path.
And if that didn’t work, she’d make her.
RAVEN WANDERED OUT ONTO THE EMPTY terrace, so full of thoughts she could barely stand straight. What had happened to Bella Sister? What would happen to Raven if she didn’t sign?
She was about to sit in the shade of the massive pedestal and formulate a plan when she heard someone singing in a scratchy voice.
There you go again today
Slaying dragons, vaulting walls,
Battling goblin hordes alone.
Raven peeked over the lip of the terrace. Dexter was on a lower balcony of the castle, cleaning bits of cabbage off his boots and singing to himself.
I would spin straw into gold
Or sleep on a thousand peas
To bring you safely back home.
Raven grabbed some ivy and slid down to his balcony.
“Whoa!” Dexter said, jumping back. “Raven! It’s you! And I was singing out loud, wasn’t I? That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s enchanting to see you,” Raven sang the chorus of the song, “leaving in shiny armor, and it’s enchanting to be me—”
“You’re a Tailor Quick fan?” he asked.
Raven shrugged. “I know it’s not popular anymore to be a Quickian, but I can’t help it. I usually go for music with a harder edge, but I just love her sound.”
Dexter nodded, adjusting his glasses. “I think she just got too popular, you know? And then everyone wanted to be unique, so they refuse to like her anymore. But if a song rocks, then it rocks.”
“Exactly. So you shouldn’t be embarrassed, either.”
Dexter laughed. “Yeah… but I’m a guy. My brother wouldn’t be caught dead singing a love song. He wouldn’t even be caught in a magical slumber singing a love song. But I…” He glanced at Raven as if wondering if she’d make fun of him. “I’ve always liked the idea of true love, like in the songs. Though I don’t know if I’m destined for it.”
“I wish I could tell you,” she said. “The Storybook didn’t show me my story or yours. I guess that only happens on Legacy Day.”
She could see he was disappointed, but he tried to smile anyway. “Oh well. I mean, Legacy Day isn’t so far away, right?”
“No, it’s not.” Her stomach felt cold.
He rubbed his hand over his head as if trying to smooth his hair flat, but it just stuck back up again. Raven liked it that way. Why did she suddenly want to confide in this boy? Having the Evil Queen as a mother was a constant lesson in not trusting anyone. But Dexter just seemed so… so something.
So she told him about the unsigned page. And he listened, leaning toward her, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I want to find out what happened to Bella Sister all those years ago,” said Raven. “But it’s not like I can just look up in a phone book under ‘Oldest Living Resident of Ever After’ and find someone who remembers her.”
“A phone book!” said Dexter. “Come on.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her, running inside and into the library.
The room was narrow but eight stories high, the far wall completely taken up by an enormous window. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the library trees. Between the tree columns climbed seemingly endless bookshelves.
Dex sat at a mirror station and began tapping at the glass.
“I helped the librarians mirrorize the phone books during my programming class. I should be able to cross-reference the most recent phone book with the oldest and see if we can find any resident who was in both—aha! Look!”
On the mirror popped up one listing:
Old Man Winters
321 Cobblers Alley
Village of Book End
“Old Man Winters is, like, two hundred years old,” said Dexter. “If anyone can remember, it’ll be this guy.”
Raven smiled at Dexter. “Check you out, totally rocking the prince-to-the-rescue gig.”
“What? No, I mean, I just had an idea, is all. That’s not really me.…”
Raven knocked him lightly with her shoulder. “You’re hard on yourself, aren’t you? I get the feeling it isn’t always easy to live with a perfect and popular brother. I think you need some better friends, Dex.”
He looked at her, unblinking, considering. “If I do, will you be one?”
“You want to be my friend?” Raven said with a laugh. “That’s not a frequent request I get from royals, especially not the closer we get to Legacy Day.”
“Well, then let my request be the first,” he said.
“I’d be enchanted,” she said.
He laughed.
“But I don’t want you to get too mixed up in my evilness, Dex. I’m willing to get in trouble, but you don’t need to.”
His brow wrinkled. “I can see there’s no point in trying to talk you out of it. Be careful?”
“Always.”
Raven said good-bye and walked toward town feeling an unexpected lightness.
She hadn’t even reached the Troll Bridge when that lightness evaporated.
“Raven Queen!” Apple was holding her skirt up to her knees to run faster. “Raven, I’ve been calling your name since the front doors of the school. Can’t you hear me?”
“Sorry, I was lost in thought, I guess,” said Raven, still walking.
“And I know what you were thinking about,” said Apple, falling in beside her. “I know what you did in the headmaster’s office. Raven, how could you?”
Raven stopped. “You know?”
Apple nodded.
“How?” Raven asked, squinting.
“I… uh… I was worried about you, and…”
“You were spyi
ng?”
Apple swallowed. “My dear, sweet friend—”
“You were spying?” Raven leaned back, shaking her head at the sky. “Is that why you wanted to be roommates, too? So you could tattle on me to the headmaster?”
“No! Please, Raven, I’ve been concerned—”
Raven turned her back and started to walk again. “Just go and tell him. He’s determined to ruin my life anyway.”
“How can you even joke?” said Apple, hurrying after her. “Headmaster Grimm is the reason the Land of Ever After is a place of peace and prosperity and perfectness! He is the kindest, the smartest, the best person. Why, if it wasn’t for him, the Evil Queen—”
Apple stopped.
“No, go ahead, say it,” said Raven. “The Evil Queen would still be rampaging, bringing ruin and evil rule to every kingdom in the land. I know what my mother is, Apple. And that’s how I know I definitely don’t want to be her.”
“You won’t. You couldn’t. You just need to play the part you’ve been given, Raven.”
“Easy for you to say,” said Raven. “You don’t have to be a villain.”
“There has to be a villain in every story—an antagonist, a big bad, someone to keep the heroine”—Apple splayed her hand on her chest—“from getting her Happily Ever After too quickly. I mean, without the antagonist, there would be no story! It’d be like: ‘Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to be loved, so she met a prince and got married and lived Happily Ever After, The End’? That’s not a story; that’s a bumper sticker.”
Apple was walking with so much purpose now Raven had to jog to keep up.
“Don’t you think you’d feel a little different about it if you were destined to be the villain?”
“No! I wouldn’t! Well, maybe I would feel different, but I wouldn’t act different. Every character matters. Can I help it if I was born to be the heroine? We all play the parts we’re given—end of story.”
If Apple was destined to be an evil witch, Raven could imagine her wearing warts and a pointy hat even to bed and practicing her evil cackle in the shower. Apple would commit completely to whatever part was hers. But Raven just couldn’t—not yet.
