Snow White Lucks Out

by Joan Holub

  “So how are your practices with Wolfgang going?” Cinda asked Red.

  Red blushed, smiling slightly. “He’s been giving me lots of good pointers. And I’ve given him some.” Wolfgang was the male lead in Red Robin Hood and the star of last year’s school play. Snow strongly suspected that he and Red were crushing on each other. Even if they didn’t know it yet!

  “Rapunzel said you overslept this morning,” Cinda said, switching her attention to Snow. “Second time this week. What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Snow said, after swallowing another bite of the pot pie.

  Red’s eyes sharpened on her with suspicion. Oh, no, here we go again, thought Snow. So she’d been late to class. Big deal. What did Red think Snow had been up to — doing evil deeds for her stepmom instead of going to class? As if!

  Not seeming to notice the tension between them, Cinda smoothed back her candle-flame yellow hair. “So I guess you heard there’ll be a ball this coming Saturday,” she said to Snow. “In honor of the new prince, Prince Prince. Which means …”

  “New ball gowns!” all four girls chorused together.

  “Prince Prince,” Rapunzel mused, her lips curving upward. “Kind of a confusing name.”

  “Maybe he needs a nickname,” Cinda said thoughtfully.

  Snow paused with a forkful of crunchy pigweed salad halfway to her mouth. “Like Principal R?” GA students had tons of nicknames for Principal Rumpelstiltskin, though they never said them to his face. Names such as Stiltsky, the Rumpster, and Grumpystiltskin. It was against rule 37 in the school handbook to say his real name. Besides, saying it would make him throw a terrific tantrum, though nobody knew why. He couldn’t even say his own name without sparking a fit.

  Feeling a slight tickle on her ear, Snow reached up to scratch it. But the scratching didn’t ease the itch. Was she having an allergic reaction? She examined her pigweed salad more closely. It had a faint, lemony taste. There wasn’t any real lemon in it, she hoped. She never ate lemons. Because she was very allergic to fruit.

  According to superstition, which Snow put much store in, an itchy ear meant that someone was talking about her. She’d certainly prefer that to an allergic reaction! She looked around, and her eyes fell on Prince Prince at the far end of her table. He was talking to Prince Awesome. About her? No, that was dumb. Why would they talk about her?

  When both boys happened to glance her way at the same time, Snow quickly pretended to be studying a group of four bluebirds that was swooping overhead in the Hall. The birds must’ve thought her gaze meant she was trying to signal them that she had finished her lunch. Instantly, they zoomed down and each took a corner of her tray in their beaks. They lifted it away before she could stop them!

  But maybe that was a good thing, in case there really had been lemon in the salad. Since even thinking about fruit could bring on an attack of hiccups or worse, she focused on what her friends were saying instead of what she’d eaten. They’d begun to discuss their plans for a festival to earn money for the school, and Snow joined in the conversation. “We’re so lucky Principal R actually approved our idea,” she said.

  “Luck, schmuck,” Rapunzel said, speaking her mind. “He’s desperate for funds to keep the Academy going. Has been ever since Peter Peter Pumpkineater’s pumpkin was stolen from the library.”

  “True,” said Snow. The pumpkin contained the Seeds of Prosperity, which meant that the school would fail to prosper unless it was found and returned.

  “That pumpkin’s probably gone forever,” said Red. “Off to the land of beasts and dastardlies.”

  Snow nodded. The girls had helplessly watched the pumpkin change into a stagecoach, roll off into Neverwood Forest, and eventually go over the wall that surrounded Grimmlandia. Beyond that wall was the Dark Nothingterror. It was a place no one had ever visited and lived to tell about it, according to Mr. Hump-Dumpty. Though now that Snow thought about it, how could anyone really know what happened to visitors that went there, if they never came back to tell?

  It was also said that terrible beasts and dastardlies roamed the Dark Nothingterror. But even after years of History class, Snow wasn’t sure what a dastardly was exactly. Still, she knew she didn’t ever want to meet one!

  Cinda took a long sip of her patty-cake shake. The yummy sweet and syrupy drink was one of Ms. Hagscorch’s special concoctions. Snow eyed it hungrily, wishing she’d gotten to eat more of her lunch after all.

  “Too bad Grumpystiltskin can’t just sell off a few of the school’s tapestries or statues to solve our money problems,” Cinda went on. It was something they’d all bemoaned before. But Rule 8 in the Grimm Academy Handbook stated that the sale of school property was forbidden.

  “Yeah, and too bad Jack and Jill’s magic fire pail went missing, so he can’t continue with his alchemy experiments for fear of burning down the school,” said Rapunzel. “Not that there was any real chance he’d succeed in turning anything to gold,” she added.

  “This is Grimmlandia,” Snow protested. “Magic does happen.”

  Rapunzel looked skeptical. “But all Principal R’s and Ms. Jabberwocky’s alchemy magic has produced is burned-up, sizzling, useless bits.” Ms. Jabberwocky, the principal’s fire-breathing dragon lady assistant often helped out with his experiments. Or at least she used to.

  Cinda leaned across the table to speak in a quiet voice. “I heard that the school’s finances are in such bad shape that it might have to close at the end of the year.”

  Snow felt herself turn even paler than usual. Where would she go if the Academy closed? To live someplace else with her stepmom probably. No more living in the dorm with her friends. Her heart thumped with panic. “If only we could find the treasure, and —”

  “Shh,” warned Red. “We can’t let Them find out about the You Know What.”

  “Oops. Sorry,” said Snow, clamming up. Them was the four Grimm girls’ code-speak for the E.V.I.L. Society, and You Know What was code for the magical mapestry. The mysterious and villainous Society had existed around the time the Grimm brothers founded Grimmlandia, but it had later died out. For some reason, it had recently begun to operate again. And now it seemed bent on weakening the magical wall around Grimmlandia that had kept all the fairy folk and fairy-tale and nursery-rhyme characters within its borders safe for more than a century!

  “Speaking of which, who has the You Know What?” Rapunzel whispered, her eyes scanning the other three.

  “Me,” said Red. She patted her basket’s lid, which was firmly closed. The girls all took turns guarding the mapestry. At the first ball of the school year, Cinda’s glass slippers had danced her over to the spot where it had been hidden under a loose tile right here in the Great Hall.

  “So any new clues to report? Golden blobs? Moving stitches?” Cinda asked Red.

  The mapestry could unexpectedly change itself at times, with new stitches appearing and disappearing. They hoped it would eventually lead them to the legendary treasure long rumored to be hidden somewhere inside the walls of Grimmlandia. No one knew what the treasure was, but Snow was sure it must be gold and jewels. Finding it would solve the school’s money problems. As long as my stepmom and the Society don’t find the treasure first, she thought with a shudder, remembering the order form she’d seen.

  When Red shook her head, Cinda drained the last of her patty-cake shake. “So where should we meet after school? Upstairs in the dorm?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Snow saw Rapunzel cringe. Snow gestured toward the windows and blue skies beyond. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said quickly. “Why don’t we meet by the swan boats and paddle out to Maze Island instead? It’s more private than the dorm.” Maze Island was in the middle of the Once Upon River. If they met there, Rapunzel wouldn’t have to climb up to Pearl Tower, and they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing their treasure-hunting plans.

  For a second, Red’s brow furrowed at the suggestion, like she was suspicious about why Snow had suggested they m
eet at the island instead of in the dorm. Honestly! Snow was becoming more and more certain that Red didn’t trust her at all. Maybe Red didn’t even like her. It was confusing. And besides that, it hurt.

  But then Red’s brow smoothed. “Okay,” she said slowly.

  “Yeah,” said Cinda. “Good idea. We can check out the repairs since the big alchemy accident.”

  “Perfect,” Rapunzel said, sounding relieved.

  As the girls finished their lunches, Snow kept sneaking peeks at Red when her attention was elsewhere. The girls all knew that Snow’s stepmom was connected to E.V.I.L. Was it really possible that Red doubted Snow’s loyalty because of that?

  It wasn’t fair! Cinda’s stepsisters, Malorette and Odette, were part of E.V.I.L., too — they’d even been the ones responsible for stealing Peter Peter Pumpkineater’s pumpkin. And how about that suspicious-acting Wolfgang? Was there any real proof that he wasn’t part of E.V.I.L.? Yet Red still trusted both him and Cinda.

  Impulsively, Snow touched Red on the arm. “You don’t think I —”

  Just then trumpets blared. Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tum! Everyone in the Hall jumped in surprise at the sound. Snow glanced up at the two musicians who had appeared in the west balcony.

  “Attention, scholars,” chorused five shiny iron helmets behind them. They sat upon a wide, carved wooden shelf high on the stone wall at the back of the balcony. “The great and goodly principal of Grimm Academy wishes to address you!” The helmet-heads, each topped by a different-colored feather, comprised the GA school board.

  All the students rose and turned toward the balcony. “I wonder what this is all about?” Snow overheard Red’s roommate, Gretel, say from somewhere behind her. Snow was wondering the same thing. Principal R always made announcements in the morning, hardly ever at lunch.

  Stomp! Stomp! The principal began to climb a stepladder that was situated behind the railing of the balcony. First his tall hat appeared, then his long nose and long-chinned face, and finally the rest of him. He was a gnome. Three feet tall at most.

  Though he was scowling, Snow couldn’t really tell if he was unhappy. He pretty much always looked a bit, well, grim.

  Wasting no time, he got right to the point. “Students of Grimm Academy! This morning during first period another valuable artifact was stolen from the Grimmstone Library!” he announced. Like all gnomes, he had a surprisingly loud and commanding voice that practically forced you to perk up and listen.

  Red held up three fingers and silently mouthed to her friends, That makes three.

  Snow nodded. Peter Peter’s pumpkin had been the first artifact to go missing. Jack and Jill’s pail, the second. What was missing now?

  “It was a pipe,” the principal announced flatly.

  He must be really upset, thought Snow. Because usually he’d ask students to guess what the item was instead of telling them outright. She pictured a piece of metal plumbing and tried in vain to figure out what story or nursery rhyme it was connected to. Pumpkin. Pail. Pipe, she mused.

  And all three are Ps, she mouthed at her friends. Was that a coincidence? Or —

  “You mean like a drain pipe?” a student dared to ask.

  “No!” blasted the principal.

  “The kind of pipe you smoke?” another student asked. Snow looked over to see that it was Prince Prince.

  “No! A musical pipe,” Principal R explained testily as if that should have been obvious.

  Oh! thought Snow. That kind of pipe!

  “The Pied Piper of Hamelin’s musical pipe to be exact. It’s made of pearwood, and it’s about this long.” Principal R held his hands about twelve inches apart to show them the pipe’s length.

  Snow gasped. Huh? It had suddenly dawned on her that Principal R had just described the flute that had flown out of Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s pocket when she’d plowed into him in History class. Flute. Pipe. Two names for the same thing!

  “It must be found!” The principal leaned forward. “Can you guess why?”

  Students threw out random guesses, knowing he’d expect them to. “Because it plays a song you want to hear?” “Because it’ll steal all the music in Grimmlandia?” “Because you’re starting a band and need a flute?”

  “No. No. And absolutely not!” the principal replied, dancing around with glee. He loved it when no one could guess the answer to his questions. Then he stopped and leaned so far forward that he was in danger of falling out of the balcony. And he told them the answer.

  “Because it’s capable of luring other magical objects out from under our very noses!”

  Everyone in the Hall gasped at Principal R’s revelation.

  Since the E.V.I.L. Society members are the ones doing all the artifact stealing, does that mean Mr. Hump-Dumpty is a part of E.V.I.L.? worried Snow. He’d certainly looked startled when she’d handed the flute … er … pipe back to him. Was that because he’d felt guilty for taking it?

  “If it escapes, the wall around Grimmlandia will be dangerously weakened,” the principal was saying. “I must warn you all again to be on the lookout for suspicious activity. And if you know anything at all about this most recent theft, I expect you to report to me at once!” He doffed his hat. “Good day, scholars!” With that, he stomped back down the steps.

  Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tum! Brightly colored flags with the GA symbol on them unrolled from the trumpets’ long, slender stems.

  As the musicians finished and the students sat down, the Hickory Dickory Dock clock over in the east balcony at the Pink Castle end of the Hall spoke up:

  “Hickory Dickory Dock,

  The mouse ran up the clock.

  The clock strikes noon.

  Fourth period starts soon.

  Hickory Dickory Dock.”

  When the rhyme ended, a mechanical mouse popped out of a little door above the clock’s face, which had eyes, a nose, and a mouth. The mouse squeaked cutely twelve times to signal noon. Its squeaks were followed by twelve low-toned bongs that echoed throughout the Academy.

  As bluebirds flew down to pick up her friends’ silver trays, Snow finally got a chance to speak up. “I know something,” she began.

  “I hope so,” Rapunzel teased. “Otherwise all those classes you’ve been taking for years would be a waste of time.”

  “Ha!” Snow made a goofy face at her. “I meant that I know something about the pipe. I think.” Quickly, she explained what had happened in History class.

  “But Mr. Hump-Dumpty is a good egg,” Cinda protested. “Isn’t he?” She dipped her fingers into a little silver bowl of water that a bluebird had returned to set before her, then wiped her hands on a clean white linen napkin.

  “Yeah,” Red agreed. She held out a handful of table crumbs for the bluebirds that were servicing their table. “It’s hard to believe he might actually be rotten enough to steal an artifact. Maybe the pipe you saw was his, not the stolen one.”

  “Only, I don’t think he’s musical. Have you ever heard him try to hum a tune? He’s really off key,” Rapunzel commented as she, too, fed the birds. “Besides, he’s so quick to see danger everywhere and to warn us about hazards to our lives and health. Doesn’t seem likely he’d dare put his lips on a pipe belonging to someone else for fear of getting germs.”

  “I hate the idea of ratting him out. But … what do you think I should do?” Snow asked anxiously as the girls rose from their table and headed to their fourth-period classes.

  As she slung her blue bag over her shoulder, it seemed to wiggle a little. Huh? She quickly dismissed her curiosity over this, however. The things inside — her handbook, the fake mapestry she’d just begun to sew, pens and paper, lip gloss, and spools of thread — must have shifted. That was all.

  Cinda sighed. “We never told Principal R about my two stepsisters stealing Peter Peter’s pumpkin. But maybe we should try trusting him with a little information, and see what happens.”

  “Not a bad idea,” said Red. “Snow could tell him she saw something that looked like the m
issing flute in Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s room and then let Principal R decide what it means. And when we see what he does, it’ll help us know if he could be part of E.V.I.L., too.”

  “Good plan,” said Rapunzel. She glanced at Red and Cinda. “Let’s go to his office now. If we wait, we might get too freaked out to do it later.”

  “You’ll go with me?” Snow’s spirits lifted. Rapunzel must have realized just how much she dreaded facing the principal alone with her news.

  “Of course,” said Cinda. “One for all and all for one, right?”

  “If we stay long enough, I might even be late for fifth-period Calligraphy. Yes!” Red pumped a fist at the thought of missing part of her least favorite class, and the others laughed. Snow was in that class, too, but she liked it!

  “Thanks,” said Snow. “You guys are the best.” She hoped that Red felt the same way Cinda did about their friendship.

  They headed toward Pink Castle and took the stairs to the fourth floor, where the the principal’s office was located.

  When they climbed up beyond the third floor, Rapunzel grasped the railing tightly, hyperventilating a little. Snow gave her arm an encouraging squeeze and stayed beside her as they went up that last flight to the fourth floor. Given Rapunzel’s fear of heights, it had been especially brave of her to volunteer to come along.

  Ms. Jabberwocky stood up from her desk, which was covered with paperwork, when the girls entered the office. “Callooh! Callay! It’s the Grimmble girls!” She smiled at them, showing her enormous, sharp dragon teeth. Although she meant to be friendly, her smile was actually rather scary. All four girls took a small, nervous step backward.

  “I hope she’s already had lunch,” Snow heard Rapunzel murmur under her breath.

  “What can I do for you brillig girls today?” asked the dragon lady.

  Cinda cocked her head, looking a little confused since she’d only come to the Academy recently. However, Snow and the others were used to Ms. Jabberwocky’s odd way of speaking. Her occasional nonsensical words came from an ancient language once spoken by dragons.