Misfits

by Jen Calonita

“Hold your place?” Pink Glitter repeats. “What could be more important than the line?”

  The hand under the table is frantic now. “I…uh…need to use the little princesses’ room.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Purple Glitter narrows her eyes. “This line is no joking matter.”

  “I once held it twelve hours waiting for Prince Heath’s carriage to come by in a royal procession,” says Pink Glitter with a breathy sigh. “I didn’t want to miss him.”

  “I can’t hold your spot,” Purple Glitter tells me. “Your placement is what determines your choice of lady-in-waiting. If you leave, I get a higher pick. Your loss.” They both nod.

  Pick? I’m sure I’ll still get someone good. “Fine. I’ll get back in at the end of the line.” I step off and realize too late the line is now fifty girls deep behind us. Oh well. I make sure no one is looking at me, then crawl under the table to rescue the frantic hand waver.

  When I do, I come face-to-face with a boy. He has brown skin and brown eyes, is wearing a gold vest with a ridiculously ruffled collar, and is shaking as if he’s freezing.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi,” I say back. “Um, I think you’re in the wrong place. This is the girls’ line.”

  “I don’t want to get in the boys’ line.” His voice is panicked. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “I know what you mean,” I say. “All the pomp and circumstance and formalities. It’s just the first day of school.”

  “I don’t mind any of that.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Who doesn’t like fanfare? Or a ball where they’re supposed to be serving coq au vin? It’s my favorite dish to cook when I sneak into our kitchen. It’s the dragons I’m worried about.”

  “Dragons?” I repeat excitedly.

  “Yes, dragons!” His voice cracks. “A prince in line behind me said we have to fight one at the end of the first marking period.” He runs a hand through his cropped hair. “Not a pretend dragon for class. A real one! I heard that and ran. I can’t do it. I’m allergic.”

  He starts to hyperventilate, and I know what to do. I spot a crumpled bag that someone must have tossed, smooth it out, and hand it to him. “Breathe into this.” This worked once with a squirrel who was having a panic attack over losing his lucky nut. I watch the boy breathe in and out slowly.

  “Better?” I ask, and he nods. “So you’re allergic to dragons?” I’m skeptical. I’ve never heard of this condition before. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” he says defensively. “I’ve never actually seen a dragon, but I always sneeze when I’m near dragon’s-tooth products.”

  I’m not sure that qualifies as a diagnosable dragon allergy, but I don’t argue. “Just tell your professors about your allergies and I’m sure you’ll be excused,” I say. “But I wouldn’t worry about meeting a dragon in general. They’re actually quite friendly…if you lay off their nests.”

  “How do you know that?” he asks, sounding unsure.

  “I haven’t met a dragon yet, but I intend to. I’ve read a lot about them, and I know the fire breathing is just a scare tactic. They also hate eating charred dinner.” He looks like he might pass out. “In other words, you’ll be fine! You’re not dinner or looking for an egg. If you run into one, try talking about the smell of pine. They love it.”

  “I’m not talking to a dragon!” He skirts away from me in horror. I think he might regret waving me over now. “I’m not climbing a tower either, or learning how to fence! I once got a splinter when I fell into our sword case at home.”

  “And you’re sure you’re a prince?” I ask skeptically.

  He purses his lips. “Says the princess dirtying the hem of her dress by climbing under a table in front of all her classmates.”

  “Point taken.” I sit down next to him and offer my hand. “Devin Nile.”

  He shakes it. “Prince Logan Nederlander of the Wetherby section of Enchantasia. It’s rural. All we have are cows and sheep. You really want to meet a dragon?”

  “Sure. My dream is to meet one with a toothache who lets me examine her,” I say breathlessly. “I’m going to be a professional creature caretaker someday.”

  “But you’re a princess,” he points out.

  “So? Why can’t I be both?”

  “Because that’s not how it works,” Logan says. “Look, I like the prince title myself. Carriage processions? Love them. Perfecting the royal wave?” His right hand moves slowly through the air. His technique is mesmerizing. “I excel. But I’d much rather be seated at a table with the royal court discussing how to make a cranberry apple soufflé than be out there slaying an actual dragon. I’m good with planning and measurements, but I’m not a fighter.” He holds up his hands. “See how clammy my hands are? I’d slide right down a tower wall on a rescue mission.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask. “Do you think they’ll let you leave and go learn how to be a professional chef?” I’m not sure how classes here work. And I’m starting to regret not reading that manual.

  His face drops. “Never.” We’re both quiet. “For now, I guess I have to get back in line, mention my allergies, and meet my steward. You’re right—maybe they will understand.” He starts to smile again. “There’s so much to do…between tailoring sessions, knighting ceremonies, and checking out the chef’s kitchen. Maybe I can suggest some new recipes. Plus, if I’m lucky, I’ll make it into the Royal Academy Roster.”

  “See?” I say. “You’ve found the upside already. Stop worrying about fire-breathers! Get out there and get some coke-ah-whatever you said before!”

  Logan begins to crawl out from under the table, then stops. “Wait. How am I going to go back out there? It doesn’t look good for a prince to be seen hiding under a table.”

  I nod. “Good point. I’ve already made a bad first impression on those girls, so why don’t I take the fall for you? Maybe someday you can return the favor.”

  Logan grins. “Deal. You’re not very princessy, but you’re okay in my book, Devin Nile.”

  I wink and crawl out from under the table. The chattering stops, and girls look at me. “I dropped my pearl necklace. Has anyone seen it?” I shout, crawling around on the floor while Logan slides out from under the other side of the table and makes his getaway down the hall. “Oh look! An emerald. It must have fallen out of someone’s crown.”

  “Mine! It’s mine! No, it’s mine!”

  Princess after princess leaves the line and rushes to search the floor. It only takes a few minutes before the girls give up on finding the missing jewel and start arguing over who was standing where and whether a lost gem is a valid excuse for leaving their spot. By the time I make it to the front, there are only a few ladies-in-waiting left.

  “Name?” asks a bored-looking elf sitting at a long white desk three times her size. A large stack of scrolls is piled on the table, while quills magically mark several other scrolls.

  “Devin Nile,” I tell the elf, and a quill magically writes it down. “Of Cobblestone Creek.”

  The elf points lazily to two nervous-looking girls my own age behind her. “You can pick one of them to be your lady-in-waiting. The princess from Raroway, whose carriage broke down west of the Hollow Woods and hasn’t arrived yet, will get whomever you don’t want.”

  “Oh!” I feel funny picking one while they’re both standing in front of me. They’re dressed in identical green gowns, white aprons, and small caps that cover their hair. But the girl on the right has modified her cap by adding a small brown ribbon wrapped like a rose that brings out her brown eyes. They look kind. She catches me staring and smiles sweetly. I smile back. “I’m not sure how to choose…” I hesitate.

  The elf yawns. “Ask some questions from the manual.”

  That darn manual again. I’ll just have to wing it.

  “Hello. I’m Devin Nile.” They both wave. “I was wo
ndering if…if…” What do I need my lady-in-waiting to do anyway? The same things Anastasia does for me at home? Does that mean cover for me with Mother and help out with creature care? I can’t really ask that with the no-nonsense elf listening. I rack my brain for a question, then think again of Logan. “Do either of you like…dragons?” Lily pokes her head out of my dress pocket to hear the answer.

  The girl on the left shudders. “I hate animals. Such dirty creatures.”

  The girl with the ribbon lights up like a firefly. “I’ve always wanted to meet a dragon!”

  Bingo!

  “I’ll take her, please.” I point to Ribbon Girl, who squeals. (The other girl huffs and takes a seat on the ground to wait for the princess from Raroway.)

  “Brynn Haun,” she says, coming around the table and hugging me fiercely. She smells of oatmeal and coconut, which is a pleasant combination. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance, miss!” She brushes a stray dirty-blond hair from her face and pushes it under her cap. “I know you only had two choices, but I wanted you. I heard the others talking… You arrived by pumpkin! Very few princesses do, so I knew you’d be special.”

  Brynn grabs my hand before I can even say “It’s nice to meet you too.”

  “Let’s move!” she says, yanking me down the hall. “Your roommates are probably already taking all the closet space!”

  Chapter 6

  Room to Grow

  “Brynn, could you please wait up?”

  I’m huffing and puffing as I chase my new lady-in-waiting up the circular staircase. The tight space reminds me an awful lot of what I’ve heard about Rapunzel’s old tower. I try to yank my large hoop skirt through another turn and get caught again. I hope each dorm room isn’t housed in its own tower. I am not climbing stairs every day.

  “Oh, Devin! I’m sorry!” Brynn comes running back down a few steps to reach me and pulls me and my dress through another tight turn. “I should have warned you about the ceremonial tower climb on the first day. You won’t have to take these steps again, but as Princess Rule 5 in the manual clearly states: a princess should be ready to face any tower she meets.”

  For the love of Grimm, is that really in the manual? “I’m glad this is just a one-time thing,” I huff. “I can’t see Olivina doing this.”

  “Oh no, she’d never!” Brynn says with a laugh. “Fairy godmothers always travel by Poof Dust or bubble.” I do a double take. “But I’m sure you knew that. It’s in the manual.”

  “The stinking manual,” I grumble under my breath. Lily pops out to give me a pointed glance. “Well, onward then. If it’s the ceremonial princess way.”

  Brynn stays several steps ahead of me. We pass a mirror, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My tiara is hanging off, my braid has drooped, and my cheeks are flushed in an unflattering way.

  “Hello!” says the mirror, and I jump as the glass seems to liquefy and turn blue, then purple. “You look lovely today! You’re a princess who is always ready to dig in and help. I can tell! Always remember you shine! But”—his voice lowers—“fix your tiara. You wouldn’t want anyone to call you a sloppy princess.”

  I quickly reposition my tiara. “Sorry…er, mirror.”

  “That’s Milo the Magic Mirror,” Brynn tells me. “Hello, Milo!” He doesn’t answer her. Brynn drags me away. “He only talks to royals. He frequents hundreds of mirrors in the castle and tells the princes and princesses what they need to hear. And,” she whispers, when Milo is far enough away, “he supposedly reports back to Olivina about you as well. Just a tip.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Brynn.” I climb farther, past a pack of pixies going in the other direction (“You’re going the wrong way!” they say with a giggle) and a group of self-sweeping mops. “You seem to know a lot about Royal Academy.”

  “I love reading the Enchantasia Insider,” she confesses.

  The Enchantasia Insider is a gossip scroll I’ve heard Mother mention. No one knows who writes it, but the author seems to know everything.

  “I’ve studied up, miss, so I’m familiar with your course books, and I know the manual back to front. I can help you with anything you ask.”

  Thank the fairies! Especially since I don’t even know where my manual is. I assume in my trunk. I clearly picked the right lady-in-waiting. “You must be the guide to have at RA.”

  Brynn stops short at the top of the stairs. I can hear squealing laughter and slamming doors coming from the hall ahead of us. A pixie flying by us shakes her head and mumbles to herself (“They all think they’re the next Princess Ella…”) while ladies-in-waiting run trunks, blankets, and pillows to various rooms.

  “Miss?” Brynn looks nervous. “If I’m being honest, you should also know I can’t sew and I make a terrible cup of tea.” She scrunches her face tight, and I fear she thinks she’s about to be fired. “But I’m very loyal, a good listener, and I will try hard! Plus, the braids I weave don’t unravel like the one you have right now.”

  I touch my hair self-consciously. “I’m not worried. Besides, I can make my own tea.” She blinks in surprise. “And we have tailors, right? You don’t need to sew for me.”

  “Okay,” she says shyly. “I really thought no one was going to pick me and I was going to be sent home! My mother is sixty-fifth in line for the throne, so technically I’m a smidge royal, but since I don’t have a title, Olivina won’t let our family attend royal classes at RA.”

  Wow, she talks fast.

  “Olivina doesn’t want us getting any grand ideas about rising above our rank,” she adds. “But at least I can be in the castle as a lady-in-waiting!”

  I try not to look surprised. That seems like a strange thing for a fairy godmother to say, especially considering Princess Ella used to be a commoner. “Well, if you want to study at RA, I can share my school scrolls. Maybe we’ll both learn something.”

  “Really?” Brynn’s face lights up. “I knew you and I were meant to be together! Olivina said I was destined to get a great princess, and she was right!” She grabs my hand and leads me down the hall past an elf crew delivering basins for evening washups. “Let’s introduce you to your roommates. I’ll be staying with their LIWs—ladies-in-waiting—in the room next door.” We stop at room 215, and she points to the gold nameplate on the door. It already has my name on it. “Look!”

  The Private Residency of Princesses

  Sasha Briarwood, Devinaria Nile, and Raina White

  “Well…” Brynn looks at me expectedly. “Do you know the secret phrase to open the door?” she whispers.

  “Phrase?” I whisper back. “You mean there’s no key?”

  Brynn laughs. “You’re so funny, miss! We can’t use a key. A villain could get their hands on it and find you! To enter, you have to say your coded magic phrase. It’s in your manual.”

  Grr…

  “Thankfully, I’ve already memorized the phrase, and since I’m your LIW, I can also use it to enter,” Brynn says. She places one hand on the door. “Starlight and fairies bright, let me enter my room tonight!”

  The door begins to sparkle and glow. As it opens, we get a whiff of… Cough! Cough! Cough! What is that smell?

  “Go on in,” Brynn encourages. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

  “She’s finally here!” A girl comes barreling toward the door and envelops me in a hug. I start to cough harder. “Marigold mixed with lavender and a hint of apple cinnamon!” she says, her voice bright and cheery. “It’s our official room smell! Do you like it?”

  We have an official smell? “Yes,” I choke out. “But it’s a bit strong.”

  “Like a princess should be,” she says with a melodic laugh.

  Her eyes are big and brown, and her skin is as white as, well, snow. A small crown is perched atop her hair with a diamond-encrusted R centered in the middle, and she’s wearing the brightest pink dress
I’ve ever seen. She looks like Heath in a dress, which means this must be Snow White’s younger sister.

  “I’m Raina White, your new roomie! Heath already told me all about you! We’re twins.” She hugs me again. “And that over there is Sasha Briarwood.”

  I look across the room and see Sasha at her desk writing furiously with a quill. She’s wearing a sleek plum gown that makes her look years older, and her hair is a shiny pale yellow. Already tacked above her desk are snippets of scrolls, mini magical pictures, notes, and maps. Every few moments she looks up from writing and stares into a mirror she’s hung above the desk. “Hey,” Sasha says to the mirror.

  I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or the mirror. Is Milo here? “Hi,” I say anyway.

  “Can I tell her, Sasha? Can I?” Raina asks, ready to burst. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Sasha created Enchantasia Insider! The gossip scroll? Have you heard of it? It’s this amazing service that tells you all the royal goings-on in the kingdom, but you can’t tell a soul Sasha is the creator! It’s roommate-privileged information.”

  “You write that?” I say in surprise. “But you’re so…young.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Sasha asks, finally turning to look at me.

  My cheeks begin to flush. She makes a valid point. I hate when anyone tells me I shouldn’t be a creature caretaker because of my age or my background. “I’m sorry. That was silly of me to say.”

  Sasha eyes me appraisingly. “I may only be twelve, but already I know more than two-thirds of the royals in this kingdom. I research all my stories and print the truth. Not the fluffy pretty stories HEAS wants you to believe or the proclamations the royal court sometimes puts out to calm their subjects’ fears.”

  “Sounds sort of risky,” I say.

  “Which is why mum’s the word,” Sasha tells me. “I’ve decided to let you and Raina into my circle of trust, based on the roommate confidentiality rule. Don’t make me question that decision,” she warns. “I’m sure Olivina knows what I’m up to—she is a fairy godmother—but so far she hasn’t cared. Probably because my rumblings are the real scoop on royal life and…oh.” She looks into the mirror again and pulls at her right eyebrow. “It seems my eyebrows could use a plucking. Excuse me.”