Kiss and Spell

by Suzanne Selfors

  “Hey, Briar,” he called after clearing his throat. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put u and i closer together.”

  Briar stopped walking. “Hate to break it to you, Hopper, but I’ve heard that one before.” She yawned.

  “Yeah, well, my doctor says I need more vitamin B.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  “Ha, ha. Very funny.” Briar slid her crownglasses up her forehead and looked directly at him. That momentary glance worked like a magic spell. The blush that spread across Hopper’s face was as red as Red Riding Hood’s cape.

  Poof!

  Hopper the frog fell onto the Royals’ table, landing right on Daring’s plate. Up to his green ankles in ketchup, he watched as Briar walked away. “Oh how my heart beats like a caged beast,” he said in his mellifluous frog voice. “If only I could summon the courage to ask her on a date. But, alas, one glance from her and I am transformed.” He climbed over the fairy fries, then hopped off the table and out the Castleteria door.

  “Tragic,” Blondie said.

  The tragedy, Ginger believed, was that Hopper never used the pickup lines on her. If only he’d stop focusing on Briar and notice the pink-haired girl sitting right across the room.

  “Too bad he can’t talk to Briar without becoming a frog,” Humphrey said with a shrug. “If Hopper were Daring for a day, he’d get the girl. No problem.” A loud slurping sound filled the air as he drank more fizzy water.

  Ginger reached across the table and grabbed Humphrey’s arm. There was a much more important issue to deal with than Hopper’s crush on Briar. “Please, Humphrey, don’t quit. Give me one more chance. I can turn things around. If I get more viewers, will the Tech Club stay?”

  Humphrey swallowed. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, okay. One more chance.”

  Chapter 7

  Science and Sorcery

  Right after lunch, Ginger headed off to Science and Sorcery class. Because Ginger was the daughter of a witch, she was automatically registered for most of the “evil” classes, such as General Villainy and Home Evilnomics. But even though sorcery was often a villainous activity, all Ever After High students were required to take it.

  The classroom looked like a mad scientist’s laboratory, with rainbow liquids percolating in glass vials and steam rising from floor vents. There were cauldrons for brewing potions, PH strips for testing weather, and microscopes for studying microscopic dust bunnies. Ginger felt comfortable with most of the equipment, especially since the double boilers and thermometers were the same kind she used for melting chocolate. Because it involved the study of recipes, Science and Sorcery was one of her favorite classes. Unfortunately, the teacher, Professor Rumpelstiltskin, was one of her least favorite.

  A nasty-tempered, gnomish man, Rumpelstiltskin spent as little time as possible instructing his students and as much time as possible punishing them. His favorite form of punishment was the pop quiz, which most often had nothing to do with science or sorcery. One day he gave a pop quiz on darning socks. Turned out he had a big hole in his own sock and wanted to find out which of his students could fix it. No one would have volunteered, on account of the professor’s feet being rather hairy and unpleasant-smelling.

  Rumpelstiltskin also gave hextra credit assignments at random. If students chose not to do the assignments, however, he’d force them to climb the ladder to the classroom’s attic and weave straw into gold with his magical spinning wheel. Ever After High’s school board had banned Rumpelstiltskin from doing any spinning himself because of a criminal past in which he’d tried to force people to spin gold or give up their firstborn. So, by forcing his students to do the work for him, he was not technically defying the school board.

  No one liked him. He was cranky and rude and hollered all the time. But the school administration put up with him because he possessed a vast amount of knowledge regarding science and sorcery.

  Ginger sat on her assigned stool, facing the front of the classroom. The rest of the students took their places and the room fell silent. When the class bell rang, Professor Rumpelstiltskin climbed on top of his podium. Because he was only three feet tall, he got a better view from up there. He pushed his large hat from his eyes and glared at his students. His gaze settled on a girl in the back of the room. “Ms. Vood, come here!” he bellowed. There seemed to be no other setting on his vocal dial. What does he do in a library? Ginger wondered.

  Cedar Wood walked to the front of the room and stood before the podium.

  “That is gold?” he demanded, pointing to a bracelet that encircled her wrist.

  Everyone knew that you should never wear gold to Rumpelstiltskin’s class. And if you accidentally wore some, you should lie about it. But Cedar was incapable of lying. “Yes,” she said.

  “Pop quiz!” he announced with a stomp of his foot. “If you answer correctly, you get hextra credit. If you answer incorrectly, you give me gold!” This was entirely unfair, but that was how it worked in Rumpelstiltskin’s class. No one ever answered the pop quizzes correctly. He pushed his sagging hat up his forehead. “Vhat is my middle name?”

  “I don’t know,” Cedar said.

  “You have three guesses!”

  Though everyone liked Cedar, no one helped, because helping would result in some sort of punishment. She shrugged. “Is it Ralph? Is it Gus? Maybe Bob?”

  “No, no, no!” He stomped three times. The podium wobbled. Cedar removed the bracelet and placed it in his outstretched hand. Then with a sigh, she went back to her stool.

  “I forgot I was wearing it,” she muttered as she passed Ginger.

  Rumpelstiltskin tucked the treasure into his pocket and chuckled happily. Then he stomped again. “Open recipe book!”

  Ginger eagerly turned the pages of her hextbook. She was the best in Science and Sorcery class because it often required the same skills used in cooking—measuring and mixing ingredients. But unlike Ginger’s cooking, which often included improvisation and experimentation, a sorcerer’s recipe was set in stone. Precision was key. When an antiheadache potion called for an ounce of stinkweed, a few leaves more could induce head swelling, and a few leaves less could induce head shrinkage. It was serious work.

  “I hate lab work,” the girl sitting next to Ginger whispered. Her name was Faybelle Thorn, daughter of the Dark Fairy who’d cursed Sleeping Beauty. She looked quite the opposite of Ginger. While Ginger was decorated with swirls, gumdrops, and sprinkles, Faybelle wore a dark glitter-printed tunic dress with sleeves that were covered in thorns and webbed lace. The two girls were definitely not friends, even though their families had a long tradition of mutual respect and admiration. Faybelle took her villainous bloodline very seriously. She looked down her nose at those who rebelled against their villainous destinies, including Ginger. But Faybelle had made a point of grabbing the stool next to Ginger’s on the first day of class and, thus, they’d become lab partners. Ever since, she’d lazily relied on Ginger to do all the work.

  Rumpelstiltskin waved his book in the air. “Today ve make boot-cleaning potion.”

  Hearing that the potion wasn’t evil, Ginger sighed with relief. But Faybelle groaned. “Boot cleaning? Are you serious? Why?”

  “Because I have dirty boots, that’s vhy!”

  During the remaining class time, beakers were broken, eyebrows were singed, and one student created so much foam it covered the floor. Ginger knew that mistakes were necessary when learning to cook, whether making a boot-cleaning potion or a birthday cake. She’d ruined at least a dozen batches of pixie pies before mastering the recipe. But sometimes, in the kitchen, a cooking mistake could lead in a new, exciting direction, like the time she whipped too much air into her soufflé and invented a floating cake. “What’s taking you so long?” Faybelle complained as she peered over Ginger’s shoulder.

  “If you helped, it might go faster,” Ginger said. Then she measured a single perfect drop of phoenix feather oil.

  “Help?” Faybelle unfurled her wings and hovered a foot off the floor.
“Why should I help? You’re the daughter of the Candy Witch. You’re supposed to be an expert on following recipes.” Faybelle smiled wickedly. “How about we turn it into a boot-eating potion and teach Rumpelstiltskin a lesson?”

  “No way,” Ginger said.

  Faybelle made a humph sound. “You should start taking your legacy seriously. I heard you only got five viewers today. Poor little Ginger. Clearly, no one wants to watch you bake goodies. You should cook up a wicked goodie and feed it to someone. Now that would be a show worth watching.”

  Ginger set the beaker over a wisp of dragon flame. “I’m not interested in poisoning anyone. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “I’m just trying to be helpful.” Faybelle rose higher, then sat on the counter. She crossed her legs and started hexting on her MirrorPhone. “We daughters of the world’s greatest villains should stick together.”

  “By sticking together, you mean I should do all the work, but you should get the credit?”

  “Hexactly.”

  At the end of class, all the other boot-cleaning potions had proved to be failures. The potion from Apple and Cedar made Rumpelstiltskin’s boots sing a happy song. “Fail!” The potion from Humphrey and Dexter made his boots ignite. “Fail!” But when Ginger placed a single droplet of her potion on each of Rumpelstiltskin’s boots, the crusty leather immediately sparkled and gleamed. Ginger and Faybelle received the highest marks of the day.

  The dismissal bell rang. “Another perfect grade,” Faybelle said with a smirk. “I’m wickedly amazing.” Then she flew out of the classroom, leaving a small cloud of fairy dust in her wake.

  “You’re welcome,” Ginger called. She was tired of Faybelle taking advantage of her. And she was equally tired of Faybelle lecturing her about her evil destiny. Usually Ginger would try to ignore all the nasty comments that came out of the cheerhexing fairy’s mouth. But one thing she’d said had actually made sense.

  You should cook up a wicked goodie and feed it to someone. Now that would be a show worth watching.

  Could she do such a thing? Could she stoop so low just to save Spells Kitchen?

  Ginger waited for the classroom to clear. Then she took a deep breath. “Professor Rumpelstiltskin, may I ask you a question?”

  Chapter 8

  The Desperate Deal

  No questions!” Rumpelstiltskin climbed off the podium and scuttled toward his desk. “Class over. You go avay!”

  Even though the professor’s constant bellowing made her nervous, Ginger didn’t go away. She took another deep breath. “I have a MirrorCast show called Spells Kitchen. Have you seen it?” She hoped he would tell her that it was an amazing show and that he never missed an episode.

  “No!” He climbed onto his chair and, after settling on top of a large cushion, opened a greasy paper lunch bag and began eating a cold roasted potato. Bits of burnt potato skin got stuck in his beard. She wanted to tell him that the tuber would be much tastier dipped in melted garlic butter or basted with a light elfish gravy.

  “Spells Kitchen is my cooking show.” She shuffled nervously in place. He kept eating. “Cooking is my passion, especially baking. I’m really good at it.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Like your mother.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no, not like my mother. Nothing like my mother.”

  “Too bad.” He picked a bit of skin from his yellowed teeth. “In my day, your mother vas best cook.” Was that a dreamy look filling his eyes? Were his chapped lips actually stretching into a smile? “Ve vent on date. She fed me poisoned cabbage soup and my beard exploded. It vas best date ever!”

  Ew. Ginger cringed. Her horrid professor had dated her mother? “Oh. That’s nice.” She shuddered. “Uh, professor, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “You bother me! Go avay!” He reached into the lunch bag and pulled out a lumpy green cookie. Was it covered in mold?

  The last thing Ginger wanted to do was to hang out with the school’s grumpiest teacher and watch him stuff his face. He hadn’t used any herbs on his potato, and he hadn’t bothered to frost his cookie. She could barely stand it. But she needed his help. She took a long breath. “Professor, I hate to admit this, but my MirrorCast show is an epic failure. No one is watching.”

  “Don’t care!” Cookie bits spewed from his mouth.

  “I need to cook something hexciting so people will watch.” She lowered her voice. “I need a recipe that will make my next cake the most amazing cake ever eaten at Ever After High.”

  Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes. “You need my help?”

  “Yes,” she said, knowing full well that it would come with a big price.

  “Zen ve make deal. I give you recipe for most amazing cake ever, and you give me firstborn child!”

  “What?” She cringed. “No way.”

  “Zen you give me all your gold!”

  “I don’t have any gold.”

  He groaned. “Da, okay. Let me think.” He ate the rest of the cookie, then stuck a finger in the air. “I know vhat to do. I give you recipe for most amazing cake ever, and you give me… date vith your mother!”

  “What?” In a million years, Ginger would have never expected such a request. She folded her arms and thought about it. Rumpelstiltskin was a vile creature, smelly and cranky, and the greediest person she’d ever met. How could she ask her mother to go on a date with him? Then again, her mother wasn’t exactly popular. Men weren’t lining up to take her out.

  “Tell me about the recipe.”

  “Date first! Zen recipe.”

  “But how can I decide if I want the recipe or not unless I see it?”

  While considering her request, Rumpelstiltskin scratched his beard. A beetle crawled out of the matted hair and scurried under his hat. “Da, okay. Recipe first!” He slid off the chair and waddled across the classroom to a bookshelf. After climbing a ladder, he grabbed a small roll of parchment from the top shelf. A dust cloud arose. Then he climbed back down and stood at her feet, the scroll held tightly in his hand. “This is advanced recipe! For vish cake!”

  “Vish cake? What’s that?”

  “It make vish come true.”

  “Oh, wish cake.” That sounded very interesting. She reached for the parchment, but he whipped it behind his back.

  “You vant?” His hat flopped to one side.

  Ginger’s imagination soared. A cake that makes wishes come true would be the most amazing thing she could ever bake on her show. Students would definitely watch that episode. And the best thing was, a wish cake wasn’t wicked or poisonous! “Yes, I vant. I mean, yes, I want.” She held out her hand and bounced on her toes.

  “Date vid Candy Vitch?” he asked, rolling the parchment between his greasy fingers.

  “Professor Rumpelstiltskin?” a little voice interrupted. A small boy stuck his head out of a hole in the ceiling. Bits of straw floated down. “Can I please stop spinning straw into gold? My fingers are starting to blister.”

  “You spin one hour more!” Rumpelstiltskin ordered. The boy groaned, then disappeared. Ginger frowned. He was certainly the meanest teacher ever after! Maybe a date with her mother would serve him right. The Candy Witch could poison him and make all his hair fall out, or make him shrink even more so that he was the size of a rat.

  “Yes,” she said, her gaze fixed on the prize. “I’ll get you a date with the Candy Witch.” Ginger had no idea how she’d persuade her mother to accept a date with the school’s worst teacher, but she’d have to make it work. Because as everyone knew, double-crossing Rumpelstiltskin was a very bad idea.

  “You do not share dis recipe vith anyone. Only you make vish cake. No one else!” He handed her the scroll.

  “Got it,” she said. “Thanks.” Then she hurried from the classroom, her heart soaring with hope.

  Chapter 9

  Hocus Pocus

  When classes had finished for the day, Ginger walked to the Village of Book End, a short distance from campus. It was a lov
ely village, filled with delightful shops, like the Glass Slipper Shoe Store and the Mad Hatter of Wonderland’s Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe. If students got tired of the Castleteria food, they could visit the Three Bears Porridge Café or the Beanstalk Bakery. But Ginger wasn’t looking for shoes or a muffin. She was on a mission. She bought a hocus frappé at her favorite coffeehouse, the Hocus Latte Café. Then she sat at the corner table where she often did her thronework. As the complex scent of coffee filled her nostrils, she opened her book bag and removed Rumpelstiltskin’s parchment.

  The café was busy, as usual. Apple White and Ashlynn Ella sat under a sprawling tree, happily chatting. Raven Queen sat by herself, taking notes from a hextbook. A Chemythstry study group had gathered around one of the big tables. The students were practicing for an upcoming quiz. Though the noise level was fairly loud, Ginger didn’t let it distract her. She had only one thing on her mind—saving Spells Kitchen.

  She cleaned her glasses with a tissue, then, after a long, cool sip of her frappé, she unrolled the parchment. There’d been no time to read it until now. And until she read it, she wasn’t going to call her mother and beg her to go on a pity date with Rumpelstiltskin. The recipe had to be good before she’d put her mother in such an unpleasant situation. Fairy, fairy good.

  Here’s what she discovered:

  Ginger realized that she hadn’t even considered using the wish on herself. That could have been fun. She could have wished that Spells Kitchen was the most watched show in all the kingdoms. Or she could have wished that no one would ever again lecture her about her wicked heritage. Or worry that she might bake something evil.

  She took another sip, then continued reading. The cake recipe was mostly ordinary, calling for flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and some baking powder. The wishing potion was the difficult aspect, requiring skill and patience. It contained ingredients she’d seen in her mother’s pantry many times, like pumpkin seed oil, syrup of serpent, and ground unicorn horn. The trick was to distill the potion down to a single drop. Nothing more, nothing less. I can do that, Ginger thought. However, the final instructions were a bit confusing.