by Joan Holub
He held up a sheet of vellum paper and read from it. “Cinderella of Grimm!”
Cinda winced at his use of her full name. Like many students who went to the Academy, her family’s origins could be traced to the tales of the Grimm brothers. Other students’ families were linked to the books of famous authors like Andersen, Perrault, Lang, Dulac, Baum, and Carroll.
The principal’s gaze scanned the crowd. His eyes narrowed with impatience. “Cinderella of Grimm, please present yourself!” he said a bit testily.
“Step out into the middle of the floor and curtsy,” Red told her in a loud whisper.
“Hurry. You don’t want to get on his bad side,” Snow added. She flicked her hand toward the middle of the Great Hall, urging Cinda to go.
Reluctantly, Cinda stepped out from the bench. She went to stand in the center of the floor. Clink, clink, clink. Typical of the Steps not to warn her that this would happen!
All eyes were on Cinda as she executed an awkward curtsy in the middle of the Great Hall. Unfortunately, she accidentally stepped on the hem of her gown and stumbled a bit. Clinkety. Clink. The jingling sound was extra loud now, with everyone being so quiet.
As she rose from her fumbled curtsy, there was polite applause. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, a few mean giggles from the Steps, who were sitting at the end of the table closest to the balcony.
“And secondly,” the principal read from the vellum sheet, “Prince Awesome. Of the Kingdom of Awesomeness!”
A boy with dark, wavy hair rose from the table across the room. He was wearing a jeweled crown that was likely worth more than Cinda’s entire village. Walking confidently to stand beside her, he swept one arm wide, then bowed low to the entire lunchroom.
Straightening, he grinned, showing perfect white teeth. “Just call me Awesome,” he proclaimed in a strong, confident voice. More applause sounded, louder this time.
Wow! He was tall. A head taller than Cinda. Or a head and a half if you counted the crown. His height really was awesome. Did he play masketball? she wondered. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask.
“Prince Awesome has an announcement to make,” the little man in the balcony informed everyone.
“My father, the King of Awesome, has instructed me to give a ball here at the Academy!” said the prince. “In honor of my first year of attendance.”
A huge cheer went up from the students.
But Cinda frowned at him, wishing she could jab him in the ribs with her elbow and stop him from saying more. Because of him and his dad, she was going to have to go to a ball? That meant she might have to dance. Ugh.
“The ball will be here in the Great Hall,” the prince added. “This coming Friday, from eight P.M. to midnight.”
“So, scholars! I recommend that you behave as good as gold all week if you wish to attend!” the principal warned them.
Gold! thought Cinda. That’s it! Alchemy is the science of making gold! A science no one had ever perfected, as far as she knew. Otherwise, everyone would have as much gold as they wanted!
“My request for your good behavior goes for the entire school year,” the principal went on. “The great Grimm brothers” — he bowed his head in reverence to the school’s benefactors for a second before going on — “built this academy and brought you all here to learn. So learn you will, or my name isn’t Ruh — Ruh —”
The principal’s eyes bulged and he clapped a hand over his mouth as if trying to stop something from escaping. His face turned almost as red as Red’s cape. He looked like he was going to explode!
What’s wrong with him? Cinda wondered. She took half a step in his direction, instinctively wanting to go help him.
But a strong hand wrapped around her arm, stopping her. She looked up into the warm brown eyes of Prince Awesome.
“Don’t,” he said in a low, warning tone. “Rule 37.”
“What?” Having no idea what he was talking about, Cinda tried to pull away. But the prince held firm. She glanced around. She’d never reach the principal in time, anyway. Why wasn’t anyone else making a move to keep him from choking or whatever was happening up there? Like those musicians, for instance. Or other students?
Suddenly remembering what the Steps had told her, she quickly yelled out his name. “Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin!”
At her call, the prince groaned. A great gasp rose from the entire student body, filling the Hall.
The principal’s face turned even redder. “Scholar! How dare you speak my name!” He pounded a fist on the railing. Then he got really cranky, stomping his feet, ripping off his hat, and jumping around like a cricket.
Cinda’s jaw dropped at the sight.
“As punishment, methinks you shall do scullery duty after dinner in the Great Hall kitchen for the rest of the week!” he yelled at her. When he jumped again, he stumbled and toppled from his perch out of sight. Thonk!
Behind him, the five knights’ helmet-heads rattled and clanked softly on their high wooden shelf. Their visors moved ever so slightly as they chorused, “She didn’t know.”
Those were the voices she’d heard before, she realized in amazement. The helmet-heads could speak! And whoever they were, they must be powerful, because the principal actually listened to them.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. He appeared at the railing again, all smiles now. “Mayhaps I was too hasty.” His gaze pinned Cinda to where she stood. “You are excused from punishment. But I’ll be keeping my eye on you, girl. I want no trouble, remember that!”
“Yes, sir, Your, um, Principalship,” said Cinda. More giggles sounded from the Steps’ end of the table. She sent a panicked look in their direction. Would they report her impertinence to her dad and stepmom?
The principal spread his arms wide and beamed at everyone in the Hall, suddenly in high good humor again. “I bid you farewell for now, scholars!” he called out. “And I wish you a happily-ever-after school year!”
Honestly, thought Cinda. This principal can change moods faster than the weather.
As he stomped down from his perch, up went the two musicians’ horns again. Whoosh! Brightly colored flags unrolled from their trumpets’ slender four-foot-long stems. In the center of each flag were two scrolly embroidered letters: GA. Which stood for Grimm Academy, of course!
Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tum! blared the horns.
Once they were lowered again, the prince at Cinda’s side spoke. “Your Principalship?” He was staring at her with a half-amused, half-puzzled expression.
She frowned up at him. “Well, how was I to know I wasn’t supposed to say his name?” she muttered. “I was just trying to help.”
He looked at her aghast. “You didn’t read the handbook?”
What was he talking about? What stupid handbook! Feeling embarrassed and dumb for not knowing what everyone else seemed to know, she sent him a superior glance to cover up her true feelings.
“You can let go of my arm now, Your Awesomeness,” she told him.
The minute he did, Cinda darted back to her seat. Clink. Clink. Clink. After a brief pause, she heard the prince’s footsteps head back to the table on the other side of the room.
“Phew! That was close,” Snow told her as they all sat down again. Her pale fingers were toying with the round crystal amulet she wore on the silver chain around her neck. A chain on which she’d also looped her trunker key. There was a four-leaf clover inside the amulet.
“You should never say his name,” Red told Cinda. “He doesn’t like it.”
“I kind of figured that out,” said Cinda. Which meant the Steps had set her up. Again. Now she remembered Malorette saying that she and Odette would “just see about that” when Cinda had insisted that names could never hurt her. The Steps had obviously known that saying the principal’s name could hurt her. And it almost had!
“But why doesn’t he like it?” she asked.
“No one knows,” said Snow.
“He just doesn’t,” Rapunzel added, shruggin
g. “It makes things interesting around here, actually. We make up nicknames for him — among ourselves, I mean.”
“Like ‘His Principalship’?” asked Cinda.
Snow laughed. “Mm-hmm.”
“Or ‘Sir Stilts,’” said Rapunzel.
“Or ‘Stiltsky,’” added Red.
“Or ‘the Rumpster,’” joked a boy who was sitting on the other side of Red. He wore a wolf-skin jacket. There was a lean, hungry look about him. He was probably a favorite of Mistress Hagscorch, thought Cinda. After all, that lunch lady was looking for students she could fatten up!
Red sent the boy a frown, which only widened his grin. But when Red turned away from him, Cinda saw that his eyes stayed on the girl for a few seconds. Then he seemed to notice Cinda watching him, and he looked somewhere else.
“So, about Prince Awesome, Cinderella —” Red began.
“Cinda,” Cinda interrupted. Then she grinned. “I’m kind of like the principal, I guess. No one ever calls me by my full name. Don’t worry, though. I promise not to throw a temper tantrum if you ever accidentally do.”
The others laughed at that. As everyone dug into their food, Red finished her question, asking Cinda for her impression of Prince Awesome.
Cinda shrugged. “He’s very tall and he knows the school rules.” Then she turned the subject to something more interesting. Food.
“Mistress Hagscorch can really cook,” she said. “This fig newt is grimmtastic!” Unlike when she’d said that word to the Steps, this time she meant it!
Red nodded. “She’s grimmazing. And generous with her recipes.”
“But she’s kinda scary,” said Snow. “Don’t you think?”
Cinda nodded. “Definitely. I’m glad those five knight heads saved me from scullery duty with her.”
“Knight heads?” Rapunzel lifted a brow at her. “Oh, you mean the helmet-heads? They’re the School Board. They give the principal advice and make announcements.”
“And they can reverse His Stiltskinship’s punishments and proclamations,” said Snow.
Cinda nodded. “Lucky for me.”
Just then, a ticking sound began echoing through the Great Hall.
Cinda looked toward the end of the Hall that opened to Pink Castle — the end opposite from where the principal had spoken. The sound was coming from an enormous hickory-wood grandfather clock that stood there on the balcony. There was a face on the clock’s face! Eyes, a nose, and a mouth. With each tick-tock, the eyes looked left, then right. And now the mouth began speaking:
“Hickory Dickory Dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock strikes noon.
Fourth period starts soon.
Hickory Dickory Dock.”
As the rhyme ended, a mechanical mouse popped out of a little door above the clock’s face. It squeaked cutely, twelve times in a row, to signal the time. In the distance, Cinda heard low-toned bongs sounding the hour throughout the rest of the Academy.
Suddenly, the bluebirds that had been flying in the Hall dipped down to the tables. Three of them picked up Cinda’s tray with their beaks. She was so startled by this that she almost squeaked like a mouse herself.
She had eaten everything on her plate, she realized in surprise. And despite the strange names, the food had made her feel kind of great. Like she’d eaten magic or something. Maybe she had!
The birds carried all of the students’ trays away behind a curtain in the serving area. Within seconds, they returned. In their beaks they carried small silver bowls of water and new white linen napkins, which they set before each student. Cinda watched the others dip their fingers into the bowls and wipe them on the clean napkins. Copying their actions, she did the same.
When Snow gave the birds a few crumbs in thanks, Cinda copied this, too. Snow sent her an approving smile.
After lunch, Cinda fell into step with Red as everyone exited the Great Hall. Snow and Rapunzel were talking to each other and dropped behind them.
“Wow! I’m not used to being waited on. Especially not by birds!” Cinda told Red.
“Wait until you see what happens at the prince’s ball. It’ll probably be really lavish,” Red told her. “I like those bells on your dress, by the way. They’re grimmtabulous.”
“Really?” Cinda smiled at her.
“Mm-hmm. Hey, we’re going to the library to check out ball gowns after school. Want to come? Maybe you could give us some fashion tips.”
Cinda almost choked. Her? Fashion tips? Red had to be kidding! “There are gowns in the library?” she asked, thinking it was an odd place to keep them.
Red nodded. “We can’t check them out until the day of the ball. But we can reserve some now.”
“Double wow,” said Cinda. Actually, fashion was pretty much the lowest thing on her enjoyment list. But she would like to see the legendary Grimmstone Library. It was famous in Grimmlandia, though no one in her village had ever seen it.
Gratefully, she replied, “Sure, I’ll go!”
Of course, even if she did find a gown she liked, she still had no intention of attending the ball. Because she really, truly could not dance! And she wasn’t about to embarrass herself — again.
As Cinda left the Great Hall with Red and entered Pink Castle, Malorette and Odette sidled up on Cinda’s free side.
“So? Did you mention us to him?” Odette asked.
“To the prince, you mean?” Cinda asked blankly.
“No, to the moon, you moron. Obviously I meant to the prince!” hissed Odette.
“Did you tell him about us?” pressed Malorette. “We saw you talking to him when you were out there being introduced.” The Steps were speaking in quiet voices, so Red and anyone else nearby wouldn’t hear.
Cinda shook her head. “No, I didn’t have a chance. Ow!” She rubbed her left side. Odette had pinched her on the ribs!
Red leaned around to see what was going on. “What’s wrong?”
“That hurt!” Odette said at the same time. She was rubbing her arm.
“No kidding,” said Cinda, still rubbing her side. “Why did you pinch me?”
“What? I didn’t pinch you. You pinched me!” Odette said in a shocked-sounding voice. She stretched out her arm to show off a pink mark. A mark she’d made by pinching herself, of course.
“You’re such a liar!” Malorette said to Cinda. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I don’t know why you’re so mean to us.”
A crocodile tear rolled down Odette’s cheek as she nodded in agreement. “We’ve been so kind to you. And we ask so little of you in return.”
“Yet you couldn’t even do that one little favor we asked,” added Malorette. “Maybe you’ll try harder next time?”
Red looked at Odette’s pink, pinched arm. Then she studied Cinda’s face with a perplexed expression.
Cinda blushed. She wasn’t lying. The Steps were. But what if Red really did think she’d pinched Odette? Unfortunately, there was no way to prove that Odette had pinched herself to make Cinda look guilty.
Before Cinda could figure out what to do, Snow called Red over. Red dropped back to see what she wanted, leaving Cinda to walk alone with the Steps. If she accused them of lying, she knew they’d just act all innocent. They’d done stuff like this before to get her in trouble.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t just talk yourselves up to Prince Awesome,” she said instead. “Why do I have to?”
Odette rolled her eyes. “Clay-brain! We can’t tell him we’re wonderful. That would be bragging. But when you tell him how grimmazing we are, he’ll believe it.” She narrowed her eyes to slits. “And you’d better be convincing!”
Having made their mischief, the Steps now bid Cinda good-bye with a final smirky warning.
“Fare thee well! I hope you enjoy the rest of your day,” Malorette said. She used a fakey sweet voice since she was talking loud enough for others to hear now.
“Especially Balls class,” added Odette. She sent Cin
da a meaningful look.
After the Steps moved on, Cinda peeked over her shoulder at Red, Snow, and Rapunzel, who were walking a few feet behind her. What should she do? she wondered.
She wanted to tell Red the truth about what had happened. But it would be weird of her to drop back and start chatting with the Grimm girls, acting like she was one of their BFFs. She didn’t know them that well. For all she knew, they might be friends with the Steps!
Confused and upset, and feeling lonely, too, Cinda sped off, passing classrooms on the way to her trunker. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time.
Had Red believed the Steps’ lies? Would she tell Rapunzel and Snow? Would the three girls still be nice to her the next time she met them? Or would they avoid her from now on, thinking she was trouble?
Cinda didn’t even know where to meet them to go gown hunting, she realized. (Or if the invitation was still open!) In the library, Red had said. But where was that? Suddenly, everything seemed too frustratingly hard. Cinda didn’t know anyone here. She didn’t know where anything was. She didn’t really belong at Grimm Academy at all.
But she didn’t belong anywhere else, either. Her house in the village didn’t feel like her home anymore. Not with her stepmom changing and controlling everything.
Cinda’s pity party was interrupted when a couple of boys ran past. Startled, she automatically did a little masketball move in the hallway to avoid them. Half spin, two-step! Realizing how silly that probably looked, she grinned to herself and suddenly things seemed a little brighter.
Hey! She wasn’t going to let those Steps ruin her whole day. She wasn’t the feeling-sorry-for-herself type!
Looking around, she realized she was in the wrong place. Her trunker was on the other side of Pink Castle’s circular hall. Would it be faster to turn around, or keep going? She wasn’t sure but decided to forge ahead.
The hall was almost empty now. Most people had disappeared into their fourth-period classes. She needed to get moving. She couldn’t miss yet another class after missing the whole morning! Lifting the hem of her skirt a few inches, Cinda dashed down the hall.
