by Chris Colfer
Brystal sighed—she understood how Lucy felt more than the girl realized.
“To be honest, I’m not sure I belong here, either,” she said. “All of Madame Weatherberry’s students have been doing magic their whole lives. I just recently found out I had magical abilities and I needed the help of an old spell to conjure anything. To make matters worse, I’m apparently the only fairy in the entire world who doesn’t have a specialty. Xanthous has his fire, Emerelda has her jewels, Skylene has her water, and Tangerina has her—”
“Charm?” Lucy asked sarcastically.
“Don’t worry about Tangerina,” Brystal said. “She grows on you after a while.”
“So does fungus.”
“Back to my point,” Brystal continued. “You’re not the only person who feels like they shouldn’t be here. I know it seems like Madame Weatherberry made a mistake, but I doubt she would open her doors for us if she didn’t genuinely think she could help us.”
“But at least you’re a fairy,” Lucy said. “I’m a witch, Brystal! That means my heart is full of darkness and all my powers are fueled by evil that’s growing inside me! You have no idea what it’s like to know that one day, no matter what I do, I’m going to become an ugly and mean old hag! I’m going to spend my adulthood cursing people and collecting cats! And I don’t even like cats!”
The thought made Lucy burst into tears. She rapidly scooped the cake into her mouth to drown her sadness, and within a couple more bites, she had finished the whole plate. Brystal dried Lucy’s tears with the corner of her gray-and-black-striped dress.
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re a witch,” Brystal said.
“Are you crazy?” Lucy asked. “Madame Weatherberry specifically said—”
“Madame Weatherberry never said you were a witch,” Brystal said. “She just said her academy isn’t meant for students like you, and that could mean a number of things! Besides, if you had evil and darkness in your heart, there’s no way you would enjoy performing as much as you do. It takes way too much joy and excitement to make audiences happy.”
Lucy nodded along. “And exceptional talent.” She sniffled. “Don’t forget exceptional talent.”
“Exactly,” Brystal said. “A wicked old witch would never have that in her.”
Lucy wiped her nose on Brystal’s sleeve and shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said. “If you don’t think I’m a witch, then what the heck am I? What’s causing all the creepy stuff that happens around me?”
Brystal tried her best to think of something to put the troubled girl at ease.
“Maybe you’re just a fairy with a specialty for trouble,” she said.
Lucy thought the suggestion was so ridiculous the corner of her mouth curled into a tiny grin. Brystal was glad to give Lucy her first smile at the academy.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard,” Lucy said. “But I appreciate the effort.”
“Personally, I think life is way too complicated for anyone’s fate to be set in stone,” Brystal said. “Take it from me. In the last month I’ve gone from being a schoolgirl to a maid to a prisoner to a correctional facility inmate, and now I’m studying to become a fairy!”
“Whoa,” Lucy said. “And I thought my life was eventful.”
“I’m just saying nothing is certain until it’s certain,” Brystal said. “In fact, whether you become an ugly and mean old witch or not, there’s only one thing we know for sure.”
“What’s that?” Lucy asked.
“Tangerina and Skylene won’t think any differently of you.”
Without missing a beat, Brystal and Lucy both erupted in laughter. They chuckled so hard their stomachs hurt and happy tears ran down their faces.
“Boy, they must hate my guts,” Lucy said. “Well, despite my intentions, I’m glad I made at least one friend today. Thanks for being so nice to me, Brystal. Something tells me we’re going to be partners in crime for a very, very long time.”
“Me too, Lucy,” Brystal said. “Me too.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAGICLEXIA
Lunch was uncomfortably quiet at the academy. Lucy sat by herself at the far end of the table to keep her distance from the others and didn’t say a word for the entire meal. She picked at her food and occasionally looked up at her new classmates with a suspicious glance, almost daring them to provoke her. Tangerina and Skylene had received enough of Lucy’s insults for one day, so the girls remained silent and purposely avoided making eye contact with her.
Brystal tried to defuse the tension with harmless conversation topics, but no one was interested in what she had to say. Her efforts were distracted when Mrs. Vee entered the dining room and presented Madame Weatherberry with a second scaly black envelope.
“Another letter has arrived for you, Madame,” she said.
The new message made Madame Weatherberry more anxious than the first. Before anyone could ask about her alleged “sick friend,” their teacher got to her feet and headed out of the room with the mysterious letter in hand.
“We’ll begin our very first lesson in just a few minutes,” Madame Weatherberry called behind her as she hurried out of the dining room. “I’ll meet you outside.”
After lunch, the students and apprentices followed Madame Weatherberry’s instructions and gathered around the castle’s front steps. However, just like earlier, their teacher was taking her time before joining them. The students became more impatient the longer they waited.
“I’m starting to think we’re never going to learn anything at this academy,” Emerelda said.
“What’s taking her so long?” Xanthous asked. “You don’t think she’s reconsidering the academy, do you? I wouldn’t have anywhere to go if she shut it down!”
“Will you both calm down,” Tangerina said. “Madame Weatherberry is probably keeping us waiting for a reason. It’s like the classic phrase goes: When the student is ready, the teacher appears.”
“I was ready forty-five minutes ago,” Emerelda said. “This is getting rude.”
“The patient bird gets the worm,” Skylene said with a confident nod. “That’s another classic phrase.”
Tangerina rolled her eyes and pulled her friend aside.
“Skylene, the phrase is The early bird gets the worm,” she said. “It’s supposed to encourage people to wake up early.”
“Oh,” Skylene said. “But that’s not very encouraging for an early worm.”
As they waited, Brystal kept her attention on the windows of Madame Weatherberry’s office. She stood on her tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse of what their teacher was up to, but she couldn’t see anything. When she eventually gave up, Brystal noticed that Lucy was still keeping her distance from the others. The musicians’ daughter sat on a boulder a few yards away from the castle’s front steps and watched her classmates like they were infected with a plague. Brystal felt sorry for Lucy and sat beside her on the boulder to keep her company.
“They aren’t going to bite you, you know,” Brystal teased her.
“Oh, I know,” Lucy said. “I just don’t want any of them to get too attached, you know, in case this academy doesn’t work out for me. People form quick bonds with celebrities.”
Brystal laughed. “That’s very considerate of you,” she said. “I was worried you were being anti-social.”
“Not at all,” Lucy said. “So tell me more about these clowns we’re working with. What’s the dynamic I’m stepping into?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Brystal said. “I just met everyone yesterday. Tangerina and Skylene have been at the academy the longest. Technically, they’re Madame Weatherberry’s apprentices because they’re more advanced than students—it was the first thing they mentioned to us. Madame Weatherberry found them when they were both very young, after they had been abandoned.”
“Can’t say I blame their families,” Lucy said. “What about Emerelda? What’s her story?”
“Emerelda was also abandoned w
hen she was just an infant,” Brystal said. “She was raised by dwarfs in a coal mine. Emerelda didn’t want to come to the academy but her father made her go.”
“Raised by dwarfs, huh? I guess that explains her short fuse and tunnel vision. What about the little paranoid guy? Why does he wear a medal? Did he win something?”
“It’s called a Muter Medal,” Brystal explained. “It’s supposed to mute Xanthous’s magical abilities until he’s able to control them. The poor boy has been through the wringer! A few nights ago, Xanthous got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, and his father started beating him. It ignited his powers and Xanthous accidentally started a huge fire that burned down their house, killed his father, and set most of the Northwest Foothills ablaze. When Madame Weatherberry and I found him, he was on his way to drown himself in a lake. He thought that was the only way to stop himself from harming people.”
Lucy sighed with relief. “Oh, thank God,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, I mean how terrible,” Lucy corrected herself. “I’m just happy to hear there’s some drama and depth to these people. I was afraid I was stuck with a stone-cold pack of losers. What did Xanthous’s father catch him doing?”
“I don’t know,” Brystal said. “He wouldn’t say, but I could tell it was something he was really ashamed about.”
“I love a good mystery,” Lucy said, and grinned at Xanthous with intrigued eyes. “Give me a week and I’ll pry it out of him. I’m good at solving cases. My parents and I used to perform at murder mystery parties.”
Brystal looked up at Madame Weatherberry’s office and let out a long sigh.
“Xanthous isn’t the only mystery around here,” she said.
Before Lucy could inquire any further, the students and apprentices suddenly screamed and ran away from the castle. Sparkling lights had appeared around the front steps and they grew brighter and brighter, glimmering faster and faster.
“What the heck is that?” Emerelda asked.
“It isn’t me, I swear!” Xanthous said. “Look, I still have my Muter Medal on!”
“Skylene, extinguish it with your water!” Tangerina ordered.
“I’m not your early worm!” Skylene exclaimed. “Use your honey!”
The sparkling lights were followed by a blinding flash of violet light, and all the children shielded their eyes. When they looked back, Madame Weatherberry had appeared, out of thin air, on the castle’s front steps, and she struck a theatrical pose with both hands raised in the air. Her gown was made entirely from clocks of all shapes and sizes. She wore a cuckoo clock as a fascinator, her gloved arm was wrapped in watches, and a pendulum swung from her belt.
“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Lucy whispered to Brystal. “And I’ve worked with a lot of divas.”
Madame Weatherberry was delighted by all the amazed and alarmed expressions on her students’ and apprentices’ faces.
“Welcome to your very first lesson,” she was happy to announce. “Before we begin, I have one question to ask you. Can anyone tell me what the difference is between a wound and a scar? Between weakness and strength? And between hatred and love?”
Emerelda raised her hand. “Is it time?” she asked.
“Correct!” Madame Weatherberry cheered.
“How did you know that?” Tangerina asked.
“She’s an hour late and she’s dressed in clocks,” Emerelda said. “I figured it was a safe bet.”
“Time is the most complex device in the universe,” Madame Weatherberry went on. “It is both the problem and the solution to most of life’s dilemmas. It heals all wounds, but in the end, it takes us all. Unfortunately, time is rarely in anyone’s favor. We have too little or too much but never the time we want or need. Sometimes we’re born into a time that doesn’t value us, and too often, we let those times determine how we value ourselves. So for your first assignment, you are going to get rid of any unfavorable opinions, insecurities, or self-hatred that the times have instilled within you. If we are going to successfully change the world’s perspective of us, we must start by changing our perspective of ourselves. Follow me.”
Madame Weatherberry led her students to the lake on the academy grounds. She placed Brystal, Lucy, Xanthous, and Emerelda at the edge of the water, spacing them a few feet apart from one another.
“Take a look at your reflections in the water,” she instructed. “Now ask yourselves, is this the reflection of who you are or the reflection of the person the world wants you to be? If you could change your appearance to match the person inside you, what changes would you make? What would you need for your personality and your physicality to be one and the same? I want you to each close your eyes and search your soul for the answers. Find the qualities you value the most about yourself and the qualities that make you unique. Then imagine wrapping your hands around your true self and pull your true self to the surface with all your might. Emerelda, let’s start with you.”
Being called on first made Emerelda feel vulnerable. She closed her eyes, let out a deep breath, and tried her best to follow Madame Weatherberry’s instructions. She smiled and grunted to herself as she mentally sorted through her good and bad qualities like a pile of laundry. After a minute or two of total silence, Emerelda suddenly gasped for air like she was coming up from a deep dive underwater. Her burlap dress stretched into a robe and the rough material turned into beaded strands of bright emeralds, and a diamond headband appeared on her forehead.
Emerelda looked at her reflection in the lake and couldn’t believe her eyes.
“This is incredible!” she said, and caressed her new clothes. “I had no idea my inner self looked so expensive!”
“Well done, Emerelda,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Xanthous, why don’t you take off your medal and give it a try?”
“I can’t take off my Muter Medal!” Xanthous objected. “There’s too many flammable objects around us!”
“Don’t worry, I’m standing right beside you,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Go on.”
Xanthous nervously removed the medal from around his neck and set it on the ground. Flames instantly appeared on his head and shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. His classmates could tell he was having more difficulty finding his inner self than Emerelda had, because Xanthous’s brow scrunched tighter and tighter as he searched deeper and deeper. Then, without warning, his whole body was engulfed in powerful flames. The fire burned for a couple moments, then slowly died down. When it finally diminished entirely, the others noticed Xanthous wasn’t wearing his patchy vest and brown pants anymore. The boy’s clothes had turned into a golden suit that was ablaze with a thin layer of fire. A trail of smoke hung off his jacket like suit tails and he wore an iron bow tie that was so hot it glowed.
Xanthous stared at his reflection in the water like he was looking at a stranger.
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “My whole outfit is fireproof!”
“And very dapper,” Madame Weatherberry said with a proud smile.
After admiring his new reflection, Xanthous quickly put the Muter Medal back around his neck. All the flames throughout his body disappeared, his bow tie cooled to a normal color, and his smoky suit tails blew away.
“Way to go, Sparky,” Lucy said. “That’s a tough act to follow.”
“Lucy, would you like to go next?” Madame Weatherberry asked.
“No thanks, MW,” she said. “I’m actually really content with the way I look. It took me a long time to develop my trademark style.”
“Well, that’s wonderful, dear,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Then that just leaves you, Brystal.”
As Brystal gazed down at the Bootstrap Correctional Facility uniform in her reflection, it wasn’t difficult to imagine a more authentic version of herself. On the contrary, after a lifetime of being oppressed in the Southern Kingdom, Brystal was very in touch with the intelligent, respectable, and influential g
irl she had always wanted to be. She closed her eyes and pictured her inner self perfectly, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t bring her to the surface.
“I can’t do it,” Brystal said.
“Yes, you can,” Madame Weatherberry said to encourage her. “Just focus and visualize the person inside your heart.”
“I can see the person inside my heart, but I’ve never done magic by myself,” Brystal said. “Is there a spell or an incantation I could recite to help me?”
“Not all magic can be accomplished with spells and incantations,” Madame Weatherberry said. “If you want to be a successful fairy, you’ll have to learn to produce it on your own. But just this once, I’ll help you find the magic inside.”
Madame Weatherberry twirled her finger, and suddenly, Brystal felt a warm and joyful sensation growing in the pit of her stomach. The feeling reminded Brystal of the excitement she had when reading a particularly good book. It grew stronger and stronger, sending chills up and down her limbs, and it spread through her body until she was so full she thought it might burst out of her skin. To Brystal’s surprise, Madame Weatherberry and all her classmates gasped.
“Well, well,” Madame Weatherberry said. “It looks like Miss Evergreen has finally arrived.”
Brystal opened her eyes and glanced down at her reflection in the lake. Her faded gray-and-black-striped uniform had turned into a sleek and sleeveless pantsuit with a long train that flowed down from her waist. The fabric was the color of the sky and sparkled like a starry galaxy, and she wore a pair of matching formal gloves. Her long hair was curly, covered in white flowers, and styled over her right shoulder. Brystal covered her mouth and tears welled in her eyes at the beautiful and dignified young woman she had become.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Madame Weatherberry asked.
“Yes,” Brystal said, and wiped away her tears. “It just feels like I’m seeing myself for the first time.”
The following morning after breakfast, Madame Weatherberry took her students and apprentices to a large maple tree in the middle of the academy’s property. She snapped five twigs off the tree’s branches and placed them on the ground, then positioned her students behind them.
