by Joan Holub
“We’re here to see Principal R,” Snow announced.
Ms. Jabberwocky’s scaly face twisted into a concerned expression. “Does he know you’re coming? He’s in an uffish bad mood. All these frumious thefts, I suppose. Plus, he misses his frabjous alchemy experiments.” She glanced wistfully at a half-eaten jar of jalapeño peppers sitting on a corner of her desk.
She must miss doing alchemy, too, thought Snow. Ms. Jabberwocky had always provided the fiery heat for the principal’s experiments with her jalapeño pepper and hot sauce–fueled breath. Until the recent ban on unnecessary fires after Jack and Jill’s pail went missing from the library, that is.
“We’ve come about the stolen pipe,” Red announced. She elbowed Snow.
“Yeah, I saw something,” Snow blurted.
Suddenly, the door beyond Ms. Jabberwocky’s desk — a door marked PRINCIPAL R’S OFFICE — burst open and the principal himself appeared. “I heard that!”
Has he been listening at his office door? Snow wondered. Eavesdropping because he didn’t have enough to do now that his alchemy experiments had been halted? If so, perhaps he needed a new hobby!
The principal dashed toward the three girls, and leaped onto Ms. Jabberwocky’s desk to stare down at them. “Well? Speak up! Tell me what you know!” he boomed at Snow.
Quickly, she explained about the pipe, saying she’d seen it on Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s desk. She told how it matched the description Principal R had given everyone at lunch, leaving out the fact that it had originally fallen out of Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s pocket. As she spoke, Principal R’s arms twitched, his eyebrows rammed together, and his nostrils flared. She hoped he wasn’t working himself into another of his famous tantrums.
He stayed relatively calm until the end of her story. But then he exploded. “Dagnabbit!” he roared. Purple-faced, he whirled around like a small tornado, making a stack of papers atop Ms. Jabberwocky’s desk go flying. As she zoomed around trying to catch them all, he came to a sudden halt. Tapping an index finger against his long chin, he looked thoughtful. “If staff members are involved in the recent thefts around here, things are really getting bad,” he mused to himself, seeming to forget the girls for the moment.
If staff members are involved? Snow traded surprised looks with her three BFFs. Was it possible he knew less about E.V.I.L. than they did? Because they already knew for a fact that at least one teacher — Ms. Wicked — was involved with the Society.
“There’s no proof that Mr. Hump-Dumpty really stole the pipe, though,” Snow told him anxiously. The girls all liked the egg-teacher. That’s partly why coming here to talk to the principal about this was so hard.
Principal R frowned. “His guilt or innocence isn’t something you need to worry about. But tell no one else what you’ve told me. Just rest assured that I will get to the bottom of this, or my name’s not Ruh — Rum —” The principal thrust his fists under his arms and began taking deep breaths, in and out and in and out, as if trying to bring himself back under control. As his eyes bulged and his face began to turn purple again, Ms. Jabberwocky took charge.
“Visit’s over, Grimmble girls,” she sang out, setting the stack of pages she’d rescued back on her desk. She handed them late slips so they could get into their fourth-period classes. As usual, the passes were a little burnt around the edges. Without further ado, she whisked them out into the hall with a cheery, “Better make like mome raths and gyre on back to class!”
She slammed her office door shut and then reopened it saying, “Oh, and have a happy ever afternoon!”
Wham! The door shut again.
“Phew,” said Cinda as the girls headed downstairs. “Grumpystiltskin can be really intense.”
“No kidding,” said Red.
“Ms. Jabberwocky’s not exactly relaxing to be around, either,” added Rapunzel.
“Yeah, especially if you’re a can of hot sauce or a jalapeño pepper. Gulp!” said Snow and they all giggled. A warm feeling filled her, almost as if she actually had gulped hot sauce herself. Because for this one moment she was able to shove aside her troubles and just let the familiar good feelings she used to feel between her and her friends flood through her. No suspicion. Just shared laughter.
As the girls moved down the hall, Snow thought about the mapestry. So far, they’d kept it secret from Principal R. For one thing, they suspected he’d take it away from them if he knew they had it. It was so awful not knowing if they could trust him entirely. They didn’t think he had anything to do with E.V.I.L., but time would tell.
At least they could trust each other — except for Red not altogether trusting Snow! A little dart of sadness pierced her at the thought. Maybe once she finished the fake mapestry and gave it to her stepmom to keep her from searching for the real one, Red would truly believe Snow hadn’t spilled any secrets or gone over to the E.V.I.L. side!
When the girls reached the first floor, they pushed through the stairwell door and started down the circular hall toward the classrooms. Cinda and Rapunzel had History together now, and Red was right next door in Ms. Wicked’s Scrying class.
“See you,” Snow told the others as they peeled off for their classrooms. Then she continued along to Balls class in the Great Hall, which would already be half-over. She hoped she and her friends had done the right thing in talking to the Stiltsky. He could get so angry! Would he fire Mr. Hump-Dumpty without a fair investigation of the matter and kick him out of the Academy? Or even worse, fry Mr. Hump-Dumpty in one of his fiery alchemy experiments in spite of the fire ban? If anything like that happened, she’d feel terrible!
Automatically, Snow’s hand went to her lucky clover amulet, and she made a wish. “If Mr. Hump-Dumpty is innocent, please protect him.” Then she added, “Even if he’s not, please don’t let him get fried.”
Music greeted Snow’s ears as she pushed through the ornate wooden doors to the Great Hall. These doors were kept open during mealtimes, but were closed during dance classes so as not to disturb other classes in session. Up in one of the end balconies, a small group of musicians with wooden recorders of various sizes were playing a lively tune for a dance called the galliard. The dance involved a lot of hops, leaps, and kicks, which made it great fun, in Snow’s opinion.
The two long dining tables had been shoved against the walls to create floor space in the middle of the Hall for dancing. Snow watched for a few minutes as several boy-girl student pairs hopped and kicked their way forward together while holding hands, then dropped hands to circle each other.
Ms. Eight, one of the twelve Dancing Princesses who took turns teaching Balls class, clapped out the five-step rhythm of the dance as the students practiced. Today, she wore eight wildly patterned scarves, had four earrings in each ear, and her bangs were plastered flat around her forehead and temples in exactly eight stiff curls. The rest of her long reddish-brown hair was wound into a tidy bun at the back of her head that had eight decorative hairpins stuck in it.
“Right. Left. Right. Left. Cadence,” she called out repeatedly as she clapped along to the music. “Won-derful! Love-ah-ly!” She and the other Dancing Princesses were famous. They gave performances all over Grimmlandia in addition to teaching at the Academy.
Once the song ended, the dancers went to sit on the floor, and another group took their place. Snow’s interest perked up when she saw that Prince Prince was among them. So they had two classes in a row together. Grimmtastic!
Before the music and dancing could start again, Snow sidled up to Ms. Eight and handed her the pass Ms. Jabberwocky had given her. “Sorry I’m late,” she said.
Ms. Eight tossed the slip of paper onto the nearest table with a graceful fling of her arm. “No worries, dahling. It’s spec-tah-cular to have you here at lahst.” She nodded toward the five students who had moved onto the floor. “We’ve been one girl short. Now you can pahrtner with the new student, dahling. How faaabulous!” She gestured at Prince Prince.
“Okay,” said Snow. But as she moved toward Pr
ince she suddenly felt a little shy. Sitting beside a boy or walking down a hall next to him was one thing. Dancing with him was another.
For some reason Prince looked a little stressed out, too, as she approached him. “Boy, am I glad to see you,” he said. “I hope you know how to galliard.”
“I do,” she assured him. She gazed around at the other pairs of students. “Who were you dancing with before I got here?”
“The teacher.” He rolled his eyes as if that had been the worst thing imaginable. Lowering his voice, he went on. “Everyone else knew each other and paired up right away. And nothing against Ms. Eight, but she likes to lead. So I had to dance the girl’s part.” He grinned.
Despite the grin, he seemed really relieved to have a new pahrtner, um, partner, Snow thought. Until that moment, she’d never considered how hard it must be to start at a new school where you knew no one and no one knew you. Students usually gravitated to their friends whenever they had to pick partners, so Prince had to be feeling kind of left out. Cinda was new to the Academy, too, but at least she’d started on the first day of the new school year. And she did have stepsisters here, despite their awfulness. Snow had never gone to school anywhere but the Academy, and, of course, her stepmom was with her when she started. Determination filled her to help make this new prince feel welcome.
The musicians began to play, and Snow offered Prince her hand. “I’ll lead you to the dance floor, but I promise not to lead you after that, dahling.” Her cheeks flushed when she realized what she’d just said, that she’d called him darling. She’d only meant it as a joke because Ms. Eight called everyone that. But had he understood? She hoped he didn’t think she’d actually meant the endearment seriously. Argh! How grimmbarrassing!
Fortunately, Prince didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He simply took her hand in his. As Ms. Eight clapped to the rhythm and called out the steps, the group began to hop and kick their feet in time to the music. Almost immediately, Snow tripped.
“Gotcha!” said Prince, hardly missing a beat as he swung her around.
“Thanks for the rescue!” she told him. If not for him, she might’ve done a face plant! Prince nodded and dropped her hand to circle behind her. She stayed in place, kicking and hopping while also concentrating hard on staying upright. But then, as they executed the next move, she tripped again! What was up? “Sorry, I really do know this dance, and I’m not usually so clumseee!” There she went again — falling.
“Maybe try focusing on something other than your feet,” suggested Prince. “Like, um, talking. Tell me why you were late to class.”
Snow hopped around to the beat, not knowing what to say. She and her friends had agreed not to talk about E.V.I.L., and she could hardly explain about the pipe and the girls’ visit to Principal R without bringing up the Society. Or poor Mr. Hump-Dumpty. “I … uh … had to run an errand for my stepmom,” she lied as she executed a kick. “Ms. Wicked, that is.”
Prince’s blue eyes widened. “Ms. Wicked is your mom?”
“My stepmom,” Snow corrected him just before he started to circle her again. Though she did feel some family loyalty toward Ms. Wicked, she thought it important for Prince to know that the two of them weren’t really related, in case he took a dislike to her stepmom. On the other hand, Ms. Wicked oozed charm to everyone except Snow, so he’d probably like her just fine.
“I have her for first-period Scrying,” he said once he’d circled her and they’d joined hands again. “Must be nice having family right here at school. I’m going to miss not seeing my parents and sister every day.”
What could she say? That if she and Ms. Wicked weren’t here at the Academy together she wouldn’t miss her stepmom one bit? He might think that was weird. And maybe even mean of her. So she kept mum.
“Right. Left. Right. Left. Cadence,” Ms. Eight chanted.
On her next kick, Snow suddenly lost her balance. “Whoa!” she cried. As she fell backward to the floor, she pulled Prince down, too. They just sat there for a minute, staring at each other in surprise. After checking to see that they were all right, Ms. Eight went to speak to the musicians.
As soon as she left, Prince jumped to his feet, then pulled Snow up after him. “Are you really okay?” he asked her.
“I’m fine,” Snow told him, blushing. “I’m so sorry. Guess I’m just having a clumsy day today. Starting with History class. At least I didn’t knock over the teacher this time.”
“No, just a poor lowly prince.” He executed a bow. “But feel free to knock me over anytime.”
Snow laughed again. She wasn’t exactly sure, but it seemed like Prince was flirting with her. If so, she kind of liked it.
Suddenly, she noticed something fly in through one of the Hall’s enormous windows. As it sailed overhead a high trilling sound came from it. “What’s that?” she asked.
Prince looked up, too. “A bird?”
Snow shook her head. “No, it’s too long and thin.”
“A flying ink pen?” he joked.
“It’s playing music.” She gasped, realizing what it must be. “The Pied Piper’s pipe!” she shouted, pointing up at it. All dancing stopped as everyone stared upward. The musicians in the balcony ceased playing to stare up at the pipe, too.
“There’s something following along behind it,” said Prince as another small object flew in the window.
“A chess piece — the queen I think,” said Snow. And then came a ruby ring. The two objects were trailing the pipe.
“It’s like they’re playing follow the leader,” someone noted.
But where was the pipe leading them?
Bam! Just then, the double doors to the Great Hall burst open. Principal R and Mr. Hump-Dumpty came running in. A group of students including Cinda and Red, as well as Ms. Wicked and several other first-floor teachers, also followed.
“There it is! Get back down here, you pesky pipe!” shouted the principal, shaking his fist at it.
The pipe ignored the principal’s summons. When it did several twirls and loop the loops near the ceiling, the ring and chess piece copied it. The pipe was playing such a lively and merry tune that Snow halfway wanted to fly up there and follow it, too!
As the objects zoomed by overhead, a silver spoon appeared from the kitchen, hovering in mid-air. It did a little spin and then floated up to join the end of the line following the pipe. Then a silver dish came along and did the same. Almost as if this is what the pipe had been waiting for, it abruptly zoomed out a window on the opposite side of the Hall. The line of four objects followed it out of view.
Ms. Hagscorch ran out from the kitchen just in time to see them go. “Oh, no! The dish ran away with the spoon!” she shouted. “I borrowed those two artifacts from the library. What’ll Ms. Goose say?” She actually looked a little nervous. Snow guessed that even the stern and scary Ms. Hagscorch worried about losing library artifacts or turning them in late.
The piping of faint musical notes drifted back to everyone in the Hall from outside as the pipe led the objects away. Principal R’s eyes narrowed and his face went red. Standing on tiptoe, he hopped onto a chair and then onto one of the long tables. Then he reached out to Mr. Hump-Dumpty, who was standing nearby. After grabbing him by his jacket lapels, Principal R jerked him near. “Just look at the trouble you’ve caused!” he shouted.
Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s huge egg-shaped eyes grew even bigger. “That pipe’s not mine. I don’t know where it came from. It — it just turned up,” he stuttered.
“Oh, really?” Principal R said, dropping the egg-teacher’s lapels and rocking back onto his heels. “Your brains must be scrambled if you think I’ll believe that. Because a student saw it in your classroom just this morning!”
Snow froze. Principal R hadn’t named her as the student, but would Mr. Hump-Dumpty guess it was her? She ducked when he glanced around at the crowd. His eyes seemed to linger on Wolfgang, who was among the group of students watching. There was a piteous expression on the egg-teache
r’s face, like he was hoping someone would come to his rescue. Only no one did. Nervously fingering the collar of his shirt he turned back to Principal R. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m not a bad egg. I don’t know why, but someone planted that pipe in my classroom.”
The principal’s eyes bulged. As often happened when he became enraged, he began to hop up and down like a cricket. “Are you saying you’ve been framed?” he roared, almost slipping off the table. “Now that sounds like a real fairy tale!”
Just then, Snow caught a glimpse of Ms. Wicked through the crowd. She was standing to one side of the table with a smirk on her face. She’s enjoying this! Snow realized with a shock. Then an idea hit her. The Scrying classroom was right next door to Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s. Ms. Wicked could’ve easily taken the pipe from the library and planted it in the pocket of his jacket, which he often left hanging over the back of his chair. The question was, why would she do that to poor Mr. Hump-Dumpty?
Snow glanced at Red and saw that she was studying Ms. Wicked, too. Then Red’s eyes swung to Snow. They were filled with suspicion once again. Quickly, both girls looked away. The next time Snow searched the crowd for Red, she was gone.
Bongs echoed throughout the Hall, signaling the beginning of fifth period. Suddenly, Principal R seemed to notice the students standing all around him. “Shoo,” he told them. “Get to your classes.” Then, glaring at Mr. Hump-Dumpty, he said, “I’ll see you in my office just as soon as school is out.”
Snow and Cinda gave each other helpless looks as they separated to go to their respective classrooms. Snow was starting to have second thoughts about what they’d done. From the look on Cinda’s face, she was, too. What if Mr. Hump-Dumpty really had been framed?
Snow was halfway to fifth-period Calligraphy and Illuminated Manuscripts class when she tripped again. Frustrated, she stopped and frowned down at her feet. Just then, it flashed through her mind that there might be a connection between the tripping episodes that had happened since History class and her new shoelaces. What was it her stepmom had said before she’d handed them to Snow?
