Snow White Lucks Out

by Joan Holub

  They’ll work like magic.

  Ha! She wouldn’t be surprised if they really were magic and could tie and untie themselves at will. Because now that she thought about it, it had felt like her shoes were loosening and tightening in dance class each time she fell. They’d probably tied themselves together to make her trip, then quickly retied themselves normally so she wouldn’t notice. Nice gift, Stepmom. Not!

  Just in case she was right about the laces, Snow reached into her sparkly blue schoolbag for her old ones, which she hadn’t yet tossed. Oddly, the old laces seemed to leap into her hand as soon as she opened her bag. She didn’t even have to search for them! Odder still, the broken lace had been neatly mended. The dwarves must have done that when they’d swapped out her laces during History class. Talk about helpful! She closed her bag, sat on the stairs, and quickly swapped out the laces again.

  As she entered her fifth-period classroom, she tossed the blue laces her stepmom had given her into the trash can just inside the door. Then she headed for her desk.

  Sir Peter Pen, the Calligraphy and Illuminated Manuscripts instructor, was having all his classes make decorative place cards to be set on the tables at the upcoming ball. Although it had only been announced that morning, by now students had already nicknamed the ball The Prince Prance.

  Pushing all thoughts about the treacherous laces — and her even more treacherous stepmom — out of her mind, Snow threw herself into the assignment. She loved forming words and numbers with the elegant black penstrokes their teacher had taught them.

  Forgetting for the moment that they weren’t getting along all that well, Snow smiled at Red, who was also in this class. “Isn’t this fun?” she enthused as she started on her third place card.

  “It might be if I were any good at it,” groused Red. She’d already crumpled and discarded two place cards. She’d spilled ink on one of them. The other had been illegible, with poorly formed letters as well as smudges.

  “Oh, well,” Snow said kindly. “Your talents lie elsewhere.” In Drama is what she’d meant, but Red grinned. “Yes, elsewhere. As in, far outside this room.”

  They laughed together and Snow felt happy for a moment. Would it last?

  After class, the two of them headed downstairs. Snow’s footsteps dragged as she and Red made their way from the third floor to the first. She absolutely dreaded sixth period. She had Scrying class. With her stepmom. Bleah. It might have been easier if one of her BFF’s was in class with her. No such luck.

  The minute Snow entered the Scrying room, she noticed something was different. Usually, Ms. Wicked pounced on her right away with some criticism about her dress, her grooming, or even her manners. But today — nothing. Her stepmom didn’t even seem to notice her arrival. Instead, she was huddled at her desk with Cinda’s stepsisters, Malorette and Odette, who also took Scrying this period. The three of them were as thick as thieves, talking and gesturing animatedly. Those two snotty girls were pretty much teacher’s pets in this class.

  Like the other students, Snow grabbed a crystal ball from the shelf where they were stored. Before she could head for her seat, Ms. Wicked broke off from her conversation with Malorette and Odette. “Put away the crystal balls, students,” she instructed everyone. “Today, we’ll be using mirrors to look into the future.”

  Most everyone squeaked with delight at the news, but Snow shuddered as she did an about-face to return her ball to its shelf. Mirrors weirded her out. Especially the talking variety, like the one in the library that GA girls used to design new ball gowns.

  Thonk! Snow put the crystal ball back on its shelf. Then she went to grab one of the small square mirrors hanging from little silver nails in rows on the far wall.

  She took the long way, so she’d pass near Ms. Wicked’s desk. Her footsteps slowed as she went by, and she strained to hear what her stepmom and Cinda’s Steps were saying to one another. But she could only pick out a couple of words like “payback” and “good riddance to bad eggs.”

  They must be talking about Mr. Hump-Dumpty, she realized. It sounded as if they thought he was guilty of stealing the pipe and hoped he’d be fired.

  Back at her desk, Snow set the mirror she’d gotten face-down. It was about the size of a playing card.

  “Um, I think it goes the other way,” said Hunter, the prince who sat to her left at the square table. He reached over and flipped her mirror reflective side up.

  “Oh, thanks,” she told him. She gave him a wide-eyed look. “I’ve never used a mirror before, so I didn’t know.” When he laughed at her joke, she did, too.

  But when she stared down into her mirror, she saw the puzzlement in her face. She and her BFFs knew for sure that Malorette, Odette, and Ms. Wicked were all members of E.V.I.L. If they were rejoicing that Mr. Hump-Dumpty was in trouble, then he couldn’t be a member of E.V.I.L., too, could he? Her spirits lifted at this deduction.

  Suddenly, even though she hadn’t asked it anything yet, the fuzzy outlines of a face appeared in the middle of the mirror Snow held. Becoming three-dimensional, the gleaming silver face pushed itself halfway out of the mirror.

  Startled, she nearly dropped it as it began to speak:

  “Ms. Wicked won’t like what I’ve seen.

  For you are fairer than the queen.

  About her looks she is quite vain.

  So she will cause you lots of pain.”

  What? thought Snow. The mirror seemed to be saying that she was prettier than her stepmom. That was crazy. Ms. Wicked was stunningly beautiful!

  She glanced around at the students closest to her. By now, everyone else was intent on a conversation with their own mirror. Since no one was paying attention to her mirror, they hadn’t heard what it said.

  She stared down at it again. This mirror had been right about one thing — her stepmom was rather vain about her looks. Mirrors had been in every room of the castle when Snow was a child. Including the full-length one that was hanging on the wall at the front of this very classroom. Her stepmom now used the mirror to write assignments on — in red lipstick, no less! — instead of a whiteboard.

  But if by “fairer,” the little mirror on Snow’s desk had only meant that she was more fair-minded than her stepmom, then that was true. As for Ms. Wicked causing her pain, that happened every day, so it was hardly news.

  Snow let out a puff of air, blowing her bangs upward. “Tell me something I don’t know,” she told the mirror.

  “Okay,” it replied.

  “No. Wait. I didn’t mean —” Snow started to say. But the mirror had already begun to speak again:

  “This Saturday there shall be a ball.

  With dancing in the Academy’s Hall.”

  Snow rolled her eyes. “That’s not news, either,” she said. Maybe her mirror was defective!

  The face inside it frowned. “Ex-CUSE me. I wasn’t finished,” it said.

  “Oh. Sorry,” Snow said quickly. Even if it was just a mirror, she could still show it good manners. “Please continue,” she said politely.

  The mirror gave a haughty sniff, then went on:

  “This may come as a giant blow.

  But to the ball you will not go.”

  “What?” Snow exclaimed aloud. “Of course I’m going!”

  She’d spoken loudly enough that Hunter looked up at her in surprise. Luckily, the room was so noisy with students and mirrors alike chattering away that no one else seemed to have noticed her outburst.

  Snow bent over her mirror. “You’re kidding, right?” she whispered to it. “I’m going to the ball. Why wouldn’t I?”

  But the mirror didn’t reply. Its face had begun to slowly sink in upon itself, so it looked sort of like a balloon deflating.

  “Wait!” she demanded. “Don’t go!” But the mirror had already gone flat again.

  “What’s wrong? Malfunctioning mirror?” asked Hunter.

  “You can say that again,” she told him.

  Hunter grinned. “What’s wrong? Malfunctioni
ng mirror?”

  She managed a slight grin, but she was too annoyed at the mirror to laugh. That thing was defective for sure. She tilted the flat silver mirror a little, enough to see in its reflection that Malorette and Odette were in their seats now. Then she tilted it in a different direction and found her stepmom, who was standing several tables behind her. Ms. Wicked was slowly heading Snow’s way as she checked on each student’s work.

  Writing her mirror’s predictions was part of the class assignment, so Snow opened her bag to take out a sheet of vellum paper and an ink-filled quill pen. As had happened with the laces, the things she needed practically jumped into her hand as soon as she reached into her bag.

  But she barely noticed because she was thinking hard now. She couldn’t write what the mirror had told her. It would upset her stepmom and make trouble. Besides, that mirror had to be wrong, she thought as her pen tapped the paper. She wasn’t more beautiful than Ms. Wicked. And of course she would go to the ball. Of all the balls she’d ever attended, this one was the most important to her. She wanted to be there to dance with Prince!

  Snow hadn’t been paying attention to what she was doing, so she was surprised when she glanced down after a bit at the vellum sheet and saw that she’d been doodling. And what she’d drawn was pretty embarrassing: a little heart with Snow + Prince written inside it!

  She couldn’t let her stepmom see that. It would lead to a million nosy questions. As she reached to crumple up the paper, however, she accidentally knocked it off her desk. It floated to the floor. Before she could retrieve it, Hunter picked it up. Annoyingly, instead of handing it back to her, he kept it to study.

  “Give it back, Hunter,” Snow commanded in a low voice only he would hear. Although he was kind-hearted, he was a cutup and had been known to lead many a student into trouble without meaning to. And she didn’t need any more trouble right now.

  But the curly-headed boy only held the paper over his head instead, so she couldn’t reach it. “Looks like someone’s crushing,” he teased. “On Prince who, though? That’s the question.”

  “Stop it,” she pleaded. “I was just …” She glanced toward her stepmom worriedly. With the drawing still clenched in his upraised fist, Hunter followed her gaze.

  Alerted by some sixth sense that always seemed to let her know when Snow was at her most vulnerable, Ms. Wicked frowned over at her.

  “Uh-oh,” said Hunter. His arm dropped as the teacher headed their way. Turning his back on her, he crumpled Snow’s doodle and quickly stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

  Ms. Wicked glared at her before giving Hunter one of her fake smiles. “May I see the note, please?” She stretched out her hand palm up.

  Snow held her breath as she waited to see what Hunter would do.

  “Note?” he asked innocently.

  Her stepmom continued to smile at him, but through clenched teeth. “Yes. The one I saw you waving around. The one in your pocket.”

  “Oh, that note,” Hunter said. He reached into his pocket and drew out a crumpled vellum sheet. “Here you go,” he said, handing it over.

  As Ms. Wicked un-crumpled the drawing and stared at it, he flashed Snow a quick grin. But she was half-frozen in horror. Didn’t this annoying boy get that this was no laughing matter? If her stepmom knew she was crushing on someone, she’d watch Snow like a hawk till she figured out who it was. Then she’d make sure to ruin everything. She’d make Prince think badly of her. Snow wasn’t sure how she’d do it, she just knew she would!

  “A sketch of a deer?” Ms. Wicked announced in surprise.

  Huh? Snow glanced over at the drawing and saw that it was indeed a sketch of a deer. Hunter must have had the sketch in his pocket all along and substituted it for her doodle!

  “Actually, it’s a hart,” Hunter explained. “Which is the same as a fully grown stag. It’s what I saw in my mirror just now.”

  “It’s awesome,” Snow said with relief. “The antlers almost look real.” This, in fact, was true. Until now, she hadn’t known what a good artist Hunter was. She gazed at him in admiration. And with gratitude, too. He’d saved her life! Well, maybe not her life. But he’d certainly saved her from being humiliated.

  “Humpf,” muttered Ms. Wicked. “It’s very nice. However, you can draw when you’re in Sir Peter Pen’s class, but not in here. Please write your findings instead. Now get back to work, you two!” Wadding up the hart sketch, she tossed it into a wastebasket and stalked away.

  “Oh, no,” Snow murmured in dismay. “Your drawing!”

  “No worries,” said Hunter, shrugging carelessly. “I could draw another one in two seconds if I wanted to.” While Ms. Wicked’s back was still turned, he fished Snow’s crumpled heart doodle from his pocket and tossed it to her.

  She caught it and quickly stashed it in her blue bag.

  “Friends again?” he asked.

  Snow smiled and sent him a little nod. “Friends. Just please don’t almost get me into trouble again?”

  “Deal,” he agreed. However, as usual, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  Luckily, Ms. Wicked was busy talking to a couple of students when the period ended. Otherwise, she probably would’ve found a way to detain Snow, like by asking her to collect all the mirrors, just so she could have more time to criticize her. Carefully avoiding her stepmother’s notice, and holding tight to her four-leaf clover amulet, Snow sneaked out of class.

  With her bag over her shoulder, she hurried outside the Academy and over the drawbridge to meet her friends as planned. They were there waiting for her by the swan boats docked along the Pink Castle side of the Once Upon River.

  “Got the mapestry?” Rapunzel asked.

  Snow’s fingers tightened on her blue bag. Her barely begun invisible-thread mapestry was inside it along with her GA Handbook. But of course Rapunzel had been speaking to Red, since the real mapestry was in her care.

  “Yup.” Red nodded toward her basket. “Got it.”

  As the girls paddled the short distance to Maze Island, they waved to Mermily, Cinda’s mermaid roommate, who was already out in the river swimming laps.

  “What a crazy day!” Cinda said, gazing at Snow as she dipped her paddle. “With the pipe and Mr. Hump-Dumpty and all that.” By now everyone in the whole school had heard about the pipe playing a game of follow-the-leader in the Great Hall.

  Snow peered up at the sky. “I wonder where it ended up?”

  “Not in the Nothingterror, I hope,” said Red.

  “But that’s probably the plan,” said Rapunzel, dipping her paddle in the river’s sparkling blue water. “Assuming someone is controlling it somehow and collecting other magical artifacts with it.”

  “How many artifacts do you think it’ll take to destroy the wall that protects Grimmlandia?” asked Cinda.

  Snow gulped. “No clue. But I’ve wondered the same thing.” According to Grandmother Enchantress, the most famous and ancient enchantress they knew of, the protective spells that kept Grimmlandia safe from the outside world were further weakened each time magical artifacts were spirited out beyond the wall. And if those spells ever got too weak, Grimmlandia would be swallowed up in that most horrible place ever: the Dark Nothingterror!

  “I bet whoever’s controlling the pipe knows,” said Red. “When it has gathered enough artifacts, they’ll probably call the pipe toward the wall….” Her voice tapered off and an awful silence fell over the girls for the rest of the trip.

  Once they landed, their spirits picked up as they threaded their way through the pretty green hedge maze for which the island was named. It was mostly taller than they were, but parts were a little lopsided at the moment because they’d recently been replanted after Principal R’s last alchemy disaster. Jack and Jill’s pail had succeeded in putting that fire out, but the pail had disappeared shortly afterward. Again, Snow wondered about the fact that the pumpkin, the pail, and now the pipe were artifacts that all began with the letter P. If only they knew what it all m
eant!

  At the center of the maze, the girls came upon a brand-new gazebo, which looked like a giant dome-like birdcage. It had been erected around a bronze statue of the Rumpster himself after the recent fire. Having seen no one else on the island, the girls entered it. Inside, Snow circled the life-size statue, noting the slightly melted places that had resulted from the alchemy accident in which the principal and Ms. Jabberwocky had unsuccessfully tried to turn it to gold.

  “Is Grandmother Enchantress’s crystal ball in a safe place?” she suddenly thought to ask Red. That ball was a very valuable object — way more powerful than the ones students practiced on in her stepmom’s Scrying classes.

  “Wolfgang hid it,” said Red, after a slight hesitation. Snow had the impression she was choosing her words carefully, like she was afraid of revealing too much. Snow stared hard at her, but Red avoided her eyes and went to sit on one of the benches that encircled the inside of the gazebo. Snow’s heart sank and wild thoughts flew through her mind. Something was definitely up. Was this more than just suspicion? Was Red planning to totally ditch her as a friend? How did the others feel about her?

  Not long ago, it had been Wolfgang that all four girls mistrusted. They’d thought he might be a member of E.V.I.L., along with Snow’s stepmom and Cinda’s two stepsisters. After all, he’d stolen Red’s basket while they were out in the woods searching for the Enchantress’s cottage. And he’d even disguised himself as the enchantress and fooled Red into telling him things about the treasure they were hoping to find.

  Afterward, Red had told them that Wolfgang had had good reasons for what he’d done, and that they could trust him. She hadn’t revealed what those reasons were, and the other three girls hadn’t pushed. They all knew that the enchantress, who they trusted implicitly, had tasked Wolfgang with guarding her ball. Despite that, Snow still didn’t totally trust the boy. And she couldn’t help wondering if he’d said things to Red to fuel her mistrust of Snow.