by Joan Holub
“We all make mistakes.” It hadn’t been her best idea to go into the woods with Malorette and Odette either. “How did you find me here?” she asked him as she dragged a chair over and stood on it to check the tops of the cupboards.
“After you left the Great Hall, I watched through a window to see where you went, and I saw you go off with Malorette and Odette.” He sighed.
At this, she almost fell off her chair. So he knew what she’d done! Argh!
“I was worried, and I really w-w-wanted to follow you, but I d-d-didn’t.”
“Why not?” Gretel asked in surprise.
Hansel sighed again. “I was trying to give you some space and not ch-ch-check up on you. I know you think I’m … well … bossy … sometimes.”
“I never said that,” Gretel protested, even though she’d thought it often enough. Hopping off the chair, she dragged it back to the table. The cupboards had turned out to be covered with a thick layer of dust. But no key.
“Anyway, I kept an eye out for your r-r-return,” Hansel continued. “When I saw Malorette and Odette come into the Great Hall near the end of lunch, Jack and I got in the lunch line behind them. And then Jack spotted a red ribbon sticking out of Odette’s pocket that he recognized as yours. Turned out she had a whole pocketful of your ribbons! You should’ve seen Jack b-b-blush when I asked him later what kind of guy notices a girl’s hair ribbons.”
Jack had noticed the ribbons she wore in her hair? Of course she also used them as trail markers. Maybe that’s why he’d recognized them. A warm feeling washed over Gretel at this information, but she didn’t have time to mull it over. She needed to find that key!
She checked a new drawer. Nope. While withdrawing her hand, she accidentally flipped over a piece of paper and saw it was a drawing of two young girls about her own age. They were twins, except that one had two yellow eyes and the other had a yellow eye and a green eye. Cora and Emelda!
“Hey, what’s going on!” Hansel called since she hadn’t spoken for a while. “Are you still there?”
“Yes! Still key searching,” she called back. She set the drawing on top of the counter next to the crystal ball and continued checking drawers. “So what happened then?”
“M-M-Malorette and Odette said how they’d played a little trick on you. Leaving you alone in N-N-Neverwood Forest and taking all the ribbons you’d tied to m-m-mark your trail.”
“Some trick,” Gretel grumped. She peeked out the window. No sign of the witch coming back so far, but she was running out of time.
“That’s exactly what J-J-Jack said,” Hansel told her. “And that’s when Mistress Hagscorch jumped into the conversation. She said she’d talked to her sister, Emelda, by crystal ball the night before. And that Emelda had told her Malorette and Odette were in cahoots on some plan that — if it worked — would alter the c-c-course of Grimmlandia history and ‘advance Emelda’s status in E.V.I.L.’ ”
“Whoa!” Obviously, Gretel had been right to worry that the Society was still operating despite recent setbacks. “What was the plan?”
“Jack and I couldn’t get anything else out of Malorette and Odette. But then Hagscorch started d-d-doing her scary act, you know, calling them dearies and pinching their cheeks and saying how tasty they looked?”
“Yeah, I know,” said Gretel. Only too well!
“Well, then those girls finally started talking!” said Hansel. “They said the plan has something to do with freeing Ms. Wicked from the Dark Nothingterror. Not only that, they handed over a map they had of how to get to the cottage so we could use it to come here.”
“We?” echoed Gretel from across the room. She noticed that Hansel seemed to have stopped shivering. She could hear him hopping up and down. Thankfully, the activity must be helping to warm him up. She went back to searching for the key, this time in some spice jars.
“Jack and me,” Hansel answered. “He was coming with me to find you. Only, when we were leaving the Academy, he stumbled on the drawbridge and twisted his ankle. So I had to leave him behind.”
Since Hansel couldn’t see her from where he was, Gretel did a quick little happy dance in spite of the danger they were in. Because it was so sweet that Jack had been willing to brave danger to help find her!
“Anyway,” Hansel continued, “Malorette and Odette finally admitted to us that they did know Hagscorch’s sister, and —”
“Her twin sister,” Gretel put in. “And Mistress Hagscorch’s name is Cora.” She grabbed the drawing from the counter and slid the sketch through the bars of the grate so Hansel could see it. “That’s them as kids. Except for the eyes, they look the same.”
Hansel nodded. “Only Hagscorch is the good twin and her sister is the evil twin.”
“Guess so,” Gretel agreed. “I’ve always been scared of Hagscorch because she’s so witchy. But now I’ve decided that, despite her weirdness, she means no harm.”
“I bet Emelda does, though,” Hansel handed her back the drawing, pushing it through the grate. “Do you think she took the key with her?”
“I’ll keep looking, but I’m beginning to think she did,” Gretel said, shoving the drawing into her pocket. She was starting to feel frantic. What if Emelda returned to the cottage to find out why it was taking her so long to come outside? If she saw that Gretel had found her brother, there would be trouble.
Before she could discuss this with Hansel, he said, “Another thing. Odette said Emelda ordered them to bring a student into the forest, but only about halfway to the cottage.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want them at her house?” Gretel speculated.
“Maybe. Anyway, I feel to blame that they chose you. See, when Jack and I were leaving the infirmary on Friday, we ran into the two of them. And after Jack told them we were planning to go hiking, they asked me if I was a good hiker.”
“So?” said Gretel.
“So I boasted that you and I have been hiking trails since we were old enough to walk,” Hansel explained, sounding miserable. “That’s why they picked you!”
Gretel shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m the one who agreed to go with them.” She thought about telling him how Malorette and Odette had tricked her with their talk about finding Mr. Hump-Dumpty’s (nonexistent) secret place, but then decided that could wait till later.
“Those …” Gretel searched for the right word to describe girls who’d form such evil plans. Nothing seemed horrible enough, so she settled on “… brats!” Then she remembered how great her brother was with words, and asked him, “Hey, Hansel, what exactly is a portal? I know it’s like an opening or a window or door. But what’s it usually for?”
Without hesitation, he told her, “A portal can be a magical doorway that allows someone to cross over from one magical land to another. Why are you asking?”
Gretel gasped and ran over to stare down at him again. “Because I heard those grimmawful sisters say something about a portal,” she said, leaving out for now that the men from The Tub had apparently built it and that at first she’d thought it was a porthole they’d constructed. “But they never said where this portal was. Or who it was meant to transport.”
For a few seconds they stared at each other through the grate. Then, at the same time they both said, “Ms. Wicked!”
Thump! Thump! Hearing the sudden dreaded sound, Gretel whipped her eyes toward the door. “Shh! The witch is coming!” she hissed at Hansel. “I’m going to close you back in.”
“What? Wait!” Hansel tried to argue.
“No! If Emelda finds out I know you’re here, she’ll make sure we can’t ever get that key. So keep quiet for now. I promise I’ll help you escape.”
Just in time, she shut the trapdoor, flipped the rug over it, and slid the table back into its usual spot. At the very last moment, she remembered the crystal ball, still on top of the counter. She grabbed it and shoved it into the nearest drawer. Then she picked up her empty oatmeal bowl from the table and deliberately dashed it against t
he floor so that it smashed to pieces. Crash!
Gretel grabbed a broom and was sweeping up the pieces of her broken bowl when the witch pushed in through the door.
“Clumsy girl!” Emelda scolded, looking at the mess. “So this is what’s been taking you so long!”
“I’m really sorry,” Gretel apologized. She dumped the broken pieces into the trash. “I went to wash the bowl and it slipped.”
Luckily, her trick to explain her delay in getting outside had worked. The witch didn’t seem to suspect anything. Truthfully, Gretel wasn’t at all sorry to have broken the bowl. In fact, she would’ve liked to smash a few more of Emelda’s dishes! And then push Emelda into that cellar and see how she liked it. Only first she had to get Hansel out.
She watched the witch’s eyes stray to the rug covering the trapdoor. A wicked smile came over her wrinkled face. Was she thinking about Hansel being not far away? Thinking it was her private little joke that he was down below in the cellar? Pulling a key from her pocket, she casually placed it on the table. She probably got a kick out of acting so cruelly, thinking that Gretel would have no idea what the key was for.
Gretel’s heart beat faster. Did it in fact open the trapdoor grate? She considered making a lunge for the key to find out, but held back for now. Best to think and act carefully. The witch might be old, but she didn’t exactly look frail. She seemed to walk just fine without the use of her walking stick when she wanted to. And who knew how powerful her magic might be?
“Come,” Emelda ordered Gretel. She pointed her stick at the door. “You promised to help me with the bread.”
“You go on,” Gretel replied, trying not to look at the key. “I’ll clean the oatsqueal pot on the stove first and then come out, okay? I hate to leave your cute kitchen a mess.” As soon as the witch was out of sight, she planned to grab the key, unlock the grate, and release Hansel so they could both escape.
“Leave the pot,” the witch said testily. “Come outside. Now!” She thumped her walking stick on the floor for emphasis.
Reluctantly, Gretel left the cottage ahead of the witch. “Since when is baking bread a two-person job?” she asked.
“Go around to the backyard. I’ll explain there,” Emelda ordered, avoiding her question for now. “We don’t have much time.”
“Why the big hurry?” Gretel asked.
“The timing for these things must be just right,” the witch replied craftily.
When Gretel saw the big brick oven at the back of the cottage, she stopped and gasped. It jutted out from the frosted glass Wall as if built right into it!
Emelda nudged her forward again. As Gretel’s gaze roved over the oven, it suddenly struck her that it must be brand-new. The bricks were exceptionally clean — completely soot-free. As if the oven had just been built and never been used. It was well crafted, though, with small pieces of brick set in a decorative mosaic pattern high above its front opening.
Remembering that she’d seen no bread dough rising on the kitchen counter, Gretel glanced around. There were no bowls or loaves of dough out here, either. There wasn’t even a table to set stuff on. Now she was even more certain that the witch was lying about her bread-baking project. But why?
When they reached the oven, Emelda gestured a wrinkled hand toward it. “Hop up and climb inside,” she instructed Gretel.
“What? Why?” asked Gretel, backing a few steps away from the oven instead. “That seems a little dangerous.” Warmed by burning wood, brick ovens heated slowly. However, once the brick walls absorbed the heat, the temperature inside could get really hot.
Emelda smiled in a way she probably thought was comforting, but Gretel could tell it wasn’t a genuine smile. “Don’t worry. I just need you to see if the port, er, oven has gotten warm enough for baking yet. And that’s the best way to check the temperature.”
Huh? Maybe she should give this witch a nickname like the ones she’d given Hagscorch, thought Gretel. She knew just the one that would fit. Mistress Childmuncher! Because it sounded like Emelda was planning to bake Gretel for lunch in this oven. And then she’d probably roast Hansel later for dinner!
Her eyes slid sideways toward the cottage. Could she make it there, get the key from the table, and release Hansel before this witch caught up? Maybe if she was very lucky, but would they have time to make their escape into the forest, too? Probably not.
Gretel shuddered, trying to think of another plan. “But how am I supposed to get up that high? Do you have a ladder or some steps?” she whined, stalling for time.
The witch let out a frustrated huff. “Here, I’ll give you a boost,” she suggested, stepping forward.
With little choice, Gretel sidled closer to the oven. “Oh! Wait. My boot’s untied,” she announced. Going down on one knee beside the oven, she pretended to retie the already-tied boot.
But she’d noticed something really weird as she’d stepped closer to the oven. The wood in the bottom part of it hadn’t even been lit. So no heat was coming from it. Which meant Emelda probably wasn’t planning to cook Gretel for lunch after all!
Well, that was a relief. Sort of. But she still didn’t want to climb inside the oven. It was a sure thing that the witch was up to something. And whatever it was was not likely to be to Gretel’s benefit!
As she was pondering this, the significance of the slip the witch had made, while asking her to check to see if the oven was warm, suddenly dawned on her. Port, Emelda had said by mistake. She’d goofed and almost said portal instead of oven, only Gretel had been too scared and worried to figure that out till now.
“Hurry up! How long does it take to tie a boot?” Emelda asked crabbily.
“Just a second longer. My other boot came untied, too,” said Gretel. She didn’t look up for fear that the witch would read in her eyes what Gretel had guessed.
Because suddenly, all the snippets of things Gretel had overheard or been told in the last two days had snapped into place like puzzle pieces. This oven was the very portal that the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker had made! She was sure of it! But that still didn’t explain why Emelda wanted her to go inside it.
Her mind raced to figure out the answer. Hansel had said that portals could be magical doorways that allowed one to cross over from one magical land to another. This must be how the E.V.I.L. Society intended to bring Ms. Wicked back from the Nothingterror and into Grimmlandia. It was also how Emelda hoped to alter Grimmlandia history and “advance her status” in the society. But why did they need Gretel?
“Time’s up,” said the witch, taking Gretel’s arm and nudging her toward the oven.
Noooo! Gretel fought back the fear rising within her. She was sure some kind of doom was close at hand. I am not afraid. I am not afraid, she repeated over and over in her head. Even as she dragged her heels, she tried to act casual and pretend she didn’t know what was really going on.
While the oven loomed, Gretel took note of something she hadn’t bothered to study earlier. Those small pieces of brick set in a mosaic pattern above the oven’s opening. They spelled these words: THE GIVE AND TAKE AND BAKE OVEN.
The answer to why Emelda and the Society needed her came in a flash. She — or someone like her — must be required to make the oven’s magic work! One person had to be given in exchange for the taking of another. And she was meant to switch places with Ms. Wicked! To be the person sent to replace that teacher in the Dark Nothingterror!
“Sorry, I can’t d-d-do it,” she began as she peered into the oven. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. “The opening is too small.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the witch. “You’ll fit in there easy. Stand aside and I’ll show you.”
“Oh, thank you!” Gretel replied. “That would be perfect.”
The witch leaned her walking stick up against the oven. Then she stuck her head inside the opening. “See? It’s plenty big enough. I could get in myself.”
“Then let me help you!” Gretel exclaimed
. With all her strength, she gave the witch a mighty shove. Emelda tumbled through the opening! At the exact same moment, Gretel saw Ms. Wicked’s face push through the Wall at the back of the oven portal.
For a split second, Gretel worried that E.V.I.L.’s plan would work, and that Ms. Wicked would be returned to Grimmlandia. But then, for some reason, Ms. Wicked and Emelda were both sucked, howling, through the back of the oven!
Feeling both jubilant and rattled at the sudden disappearance of Ms. Wicked and the witch, Gretel spun around and hurried over to the gingerbread cottage.
“I’m back!” she called as she ran inside, hoping Hansel would hear and be reassured. After grabbing the key, she shoved the table aside, peeled back the rug, and pulled up the trapdoor. As she unlocked the grate and freed her brother, she quickly explained what had just happened with The Give and Take and Bake Oven portal.
“I don’t get it,” he said as he climbed out. “Why wasn’t Ms. Wicked returned to Grimmlandia through the portal to take Emelda’s place?”
“I don’t know. Who cares?” said Gretel. “Maybe it required a young person like me to go through. Or maybe you have to exchange good for evil. Only both of those ladies were evil, so the magic didn’t work right. Those are my theories any — Hey,” she interrupted herself. “You have my backpack! Odette offered to carry it for a while yesterday, but then she and Malorette tricked me and ran off.”
“Yeah, that sounds like them.” Shrugging the backpack off, Hansel handed it to her. “I found it on the trail. They’d emptied it out and left it there.”
“Oh, no! My pocketknife was in it!”
“If they’ve l-l-lost it, I’ll get you a n-n-new one,” Hansel promised, beginning to shiver again.
Quickly, Gretel ran and grabbed the puffy pink comforter from the bed she’d slept in last night and wrapped it around him. While he huddled in it, trying to get warm again, she opened the drawer where she’d stashed the witch’s crystal ball and took it out.
