by Joan Holub
“That’s right. You might not have noticed, but most of the time we dragons aren’t named in literature,” explained Dragonbreath. “That’s because there aren’t enough dragons to go around. Which means we get assigned on an as-needed basis and usually wind up in more than one tale or rhyme.”
Interesting, thought Snowflake, as the line crowded forward a few steps. Was it possible she could be from more than one rhyme or fairy tale, too? Somehow she doubted it, but it was something to consider.
“Yeah, in dragon stories it’s always the same. The dragon gobbles people and locks up a princess, and then some heroic prince like me comes along and saves her,” said another boy wearing a crown. Prince Perfect was his name.
A frown flitted across Prince Dragonbreath’s face, as if he were bothered by what Perfect had said. But he quickly hid his feelings and acted all casual.
“And guess what happens to the dragon in the end?” Perfect went on. Laughing, he drew a finger across his throat.
Well, that wasn’t very nice, thought Snowflake. The way Prince Perfect was acting, he fit that “horrid” rhyme better than she did. Even if he wasn’t a girl and didn’t have a little curl in the middle of his forehead!
She opened her mouth to say something in Dragonbreath’s defense, but Foulsmell beat her to it. “Hey, I say it’s up to Dragonbreath to decide if he’ll be a good or bad dragon in any given situation.”
“Right you are,” agreed Dragonbreath. Spotting Snowflake, he smiled. If he’d noticed her disappearance from the office yesterday, he didn’t ask about it. Instead, his green eyes went to the bunny she held. “Cute. Is he yours?”
“Um, no. That is, I found him, but I’m not going to keep him.” She was about to add that she was trying to find someone who would take the bunny as a pet, but she stopped herself. Because what if Dragonbreath said he wanted the bunny? She couldn’t give him to a dragon. Dragonbreath might accidentally sneeze someday and fry the poor bunnykins!
“So what will you do with him, then?” Dragonbreath asked.
“I’m not sure. I … um …” As Snowflake shifted from one slippered foot to the other, Cinda came over.
“Having any luck?” asked Cinda. She smiled at the group of boys. “She’s trying to give away a bunny. Any of you guys up for a new pet?”
Snowflake sent Prince Dragonbreath a guilty glance from under her eyelashes. He looked back at her with a blank expression. Kind of like how she tried to make her face look whenever she felt unsure of herself or hurt. She figured he’d guessed why she hadn’t offered him the bunny. Oh, grimmrats! She’d hurt his feelings.
“Dragons and bunnies don’t really mix,” he said shortly. Then he turned away to order his lunch.
Foulsmell gave the bunny a pat and seemed to consider the idea. But he said, “Much as I’d like to, I’m going to have to say no. I just don’t have time for a pet with homework and all.” Others seemed at least mildly interested, too, but ultimately they all said no.
Eventually, the line moved ahead, and Snowflake heard a scary voice speaking to her. “Care for a fresh-baked gingerbread cookie, dearie?” it demanded. A wrinkled old hand shot into her line of vision, its fingers holding out a small plate to her. There was a three-dimensional cookie shaped like a gingerbread house on it. It looked like it would fit perfectly in Snowflake’s palm and was beautifully decorated with candies and icing. Yum!
Snowflake looked up from the plate and into the eyes of the woman who’d spoken. Whoa! They were as yellow as a cat’s! And her white-gray hair was as wild and scraggly as the moss that grew in Neverwood Forest.
At the scared look on her face, Mistress Hagscorch cackled. Did it please her to frighten the wits out of a new student? Snowflake wondered. The witchy-looking cook leaned closer and pinched her cheek, then held the plate out to her again. “Eat. We need to fatten you up!” She cackled again.
Finally noticing the bunny, Mistress Hagscorch frowned. “No bunnies allowed in the cafeteria,” she pronounced. Then her expression turned hopeful. “Unless it’s for a stew?”
“No!” said Snowflake, rearing back. At her abrupt move, the surprised bunny leaped from her arms and took off through the Great Hall.
Snowflake ran after it. Why, she wasn’t sure. The bunny wasn’t really her problem. But she didn’t want Hagscorch to turn him into stew any more than she wanted hunters to have him!
Boing! Boing! Boing! Snowflake raced after the bunny as he hopped down the length of the Hall, zigzagging between the two tables. Drawing everyone’s attention, he dashed around students’ feet, knocking over schoolbags and anything else they’d set on the floor. She chased that bunny all the way to where the group of Cinda’s friends were sitting. There, the critter leaped into an empty spot on the bench seat between Rapunzel and Red Riding Hood.
Snowflake came to a halt and glared down at him. The long-eared bunny grinned mischievously up at her. Twitching his ears and nose, he nuzzled her hand as if asking her forgiveness for having run off.
“Oh, how cute!” cooed Rapunzel.
Snowflake glanced worriedly over her shoulder. “Hagscorch is coming!” she cautioned them. “We can’t let her see him. She wants to turn him into stew!”
Alarmed now, the girls at the table all leaned out from their benches to look for the cook. She was indeed running toward them. And she was waving an empty stew pot around in one hand and its matching lid in the other.
“Quick! Put him in my basket,” suggested Red Riding Hood. While Snowflake and some of the other girls blocked Hagscorch’s view, Red opened her nut-brown basket. About the size of a large shoe box, it had a swirly design on either end and a lid that hinged in the middle. It was her magic charm, Snowflake knew. Just like the glass slippers were Cinda’s. But precisely what powers Red’s basket had, she wasn’t sure.
Boing! The bunny hopped in all on his own. After shutting the lid, Red slid the basket onto her lap. Then she drew the sides of her bright red cape tightly over her lap to hide the basket. Just in time!
Mistress Hagscorch screeched to a halt at their table, looking around in suspicion. “Where’s that bunny?”
“Maybe it hopped out the window?” Snow White suggested innocently.
The cook looked up at the high windows and gave a snort. “I don’t think so! Bunnies can’t fly.” She moved closer.
Rapunzel patted the empty spot on the bench between her and Red Riding Hood where the bunny had been only seconds ago. Snowflake took the hint and sat down.
“Maybe it was a magic bunny, and it simply vanished into thin air. Like the kind magicians use,” Cinda suggested as she walked up and took a seat opposite Snowflake. Cinda’s tray was loaded with food, including veggies like celery, romaine lettuce, and carrots. Stuff a bunny would enjoy nibbling, Snowflake realized. How thoughtful!
“Humpf!” Mistress Hagscorch obviously wasn’t buying Cinda’s idea as to the bunny’s whereabouts, either. She looked on the floor under the table and all around, but finally gave up. “Well, if I see one hair of that hare in this Hall again, it’s toast! Or stew, anyway.”
After she was gone, the girls all breathed a sigh of relief. Red opened her cape again and lifted the basket lid. The bunny stared out at the girls and wiggled his nose adorably.
“I’ll keep him in my basket for you till after lunch, okay?” Red Riding Hood offered.
“Sure. He seems comfy in there,” Snowflake replied.
“Yeah, and we can sneak him the snacks Cinda brought now that Mistress Hagscorch is gone,” added Snow White.
Cinda nodded, then gave Snowflake a small towel. After both girls quickly cleansed their hands, Cinda told her, “I got us a couple of International Meetball Hoagies to eat. Hope that’s okay.” She lifted a plate off her tray and passed it across the table.
“Smells grimmyummy,” said Snowflake, taking the plate. Suddenly hungry, she picked up her hoagie in both hands and opened her mouth wide.
“Bonjour, il me fait plaisir d’être votre hoagie a
ujourd’hui. Bon appétit,” said a small voice. Startled, Snowflake nearly dropped the sandwich.
“It was your hoagie,” Goldilocks informed her.
“Tell it merci,” instructed Cinda. She said it like this: mehr-SEE.
Sandwiches that talked? Snowflake searched the faces of the girls around her, trying to tell if they were playing a trick. But they looked sincere. “Uh, merci,” she repeated.
“The hoagies say hello in different languages. They’re the M-E-E-T-ball kind, get it?” Rapunzel explained.
“Yours is on French bread,” Snow White told Snowflake. “It said, ‘Hello, it’s my pleasure to be your hoagie today.’ And you answered, ‘Thanks’.”
“Mine’s on Italian.” Cinda picked it up and took a bite.
Instantly, a new small voice said, “Ciao, sono un pranzo magnifico!”
“That means, ‘Hello, I am a wonderful lunch!’ in Italian,” Goldilocks explained, since Cinda’s mouth was full now.
While they chatted, the Grimm girls began slipping veggie tidbits from Cinda’s tray into Red’s basket for the bunny. “He’s so adorable,” Rapunzel said as she fed him a bit of lettuce. “How long have you had him?”
“And what’s his name?” Snow White added.
“I just call him Bunny. He’s not exactly mine,” Snowflake explained between bites of hoagie. “I found him in Mary Mary Quite Contrary’s garden chomping on her flowers. She was shooing him away. He really needs a good home.” She gazed hopefully at Red Riding Hood, Snow White, Goldilocks, and then Rapunzel.
Rapunzel shook her head and the ends of her super-fast-growing, long blue-streaked black hair nearly brushed the floor. “He’s sweet, but my five cats might not get along with him.”
“Oh.”
“And I’ve got a pet fur allergy,” said Snow White.
“Sorry, but I only keep stuffed toy animals,” said Goldilocks. “I do hope you find a good home for him, though.”
Snowflake looked at Red Riding Hood, pinning her hopes on the red-caped girl.
“He is grimmadorable. But I just don’t know …” Red’s voice trailed off, and she looked over at the boy on her other side.
Snowflake recognized the boy as Wolfgang, the shape-shifting wolf from Red Riding Hood’s fairy tale. She’d heard that he and Red hung out together a lot. What if someday Wolfgang shifted into wolf form and got hungry when the bunny was around? No, Snowflake thought with a shudder. Looked like Red was out as a bunny owner, too.
She reached into Red Riding Hood’s basket and patted the bunny. His tummy full, he was almost purring. Absently, she stroked him till he curled up to nap.
As the bunny dozed off, the grandfather clock on the balcony at one end of the Hall whirred to life and said a rhyme:
“Hickory Dickory Dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
It’s now gone noon.
So classes start soon.
Hickory Dickory Dock.”
On cue, the bluebirds that had been flying in and out of the Hall dipped down to the tables. They began picking up trays in their beaks and carrying them off to the kitchen. Within seconds, they returned carrying small silver bowls of warm water and new white linen hand towels, which they set before each student.
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 twelve times to signal noon. Each squeak was followed by a low-toned bong that echoed throughout the Academy.
Time for class. Snowflake wiped her hands on her fresh towel and hopped up, anxious to get going. Because without realizing it, she had broken (or at least bent) her number one rule for herself: Don’t make friends! Luckily, the girls had been too focused on the bunny to ask personal questions — such as the title of her nursery rhyme or tale. She had to admit, though, now that she had started to get to know some GA students, they were pretty nice!
It was all Mary Mary’s fault. By sticking her with this bunny, she’d caused Snowflake to let down her guard. She had to find a good pet caretaker ASAP and get back to keeping to herself.
But currently, she was short on choices. “Want to keep the bunny for a while?” she asked Red Riding Hood again as the girls all got up from the table and started out of the Hall together. Red could probably be trusted to keep it away from Wolfgang, right? At least Snowflake hoped so.
Red opened her basket. They could both see that the bunny was still curled up and sleeping. “I do hate to wake him up. What do you have fourth period?” she asked Snowflake. “Oh, wait, you were in Scrying with me. I’m so glad our class got moved to Drama now. I’m in love with acting!”
“And she’s the best actor at school,” added Rapunzel, who was walking right behind them.
Snowflake knew that, of course. In the library, she’d seen a poster from a play Red and Wolfgang had starred in earlier in the year called Red Robin Hood. “But don’t you already have Drama third period?” she asked Red.
Red Riding Hood looked at her in surprise. Probably thought she was some kind of spy or something for knowing that. Thing was, when you didn’t have friends, you had lots of time to observe others around you. And every day when Snowflake headed for Calligraphy and Illuminated Manuscripts class third period, she’d seen Red heading for Drama in the auditorium.
“I do,” Red replied. “But ever since Scrying got canceled, I’ve been begging Ms. Jabberwocky to let me take Drama third and fourth. Yesterday, she finally caved. At least, until we get another Scrying teacher.”
As they left the Hall, Red Riding Hood added, “So the bunny stays in my basket during Drama? Or, if you want, I could magically transport him to your dorm room to nap. My basket can’t handle anything much bigger than a bunny, but …”
“Maybe just keep him in the basket for now,” Snowflake said quickly.
The two girls parted with Rapunzel at the grand staircase, then made a detour to get Snowflake’s Handbook from her trunker.
“Okay, then. Let’s go be theatrical!” Red Riding Hood said at last. With a dramatic flourish of her red cape, she led the way upstairs, her basket swinging gently from one arm.
As she and Red entered the auditorium, Snowflake fell silent, awestruck by its grimmazing architectural beauty. Its ceiling was painted with colorful scenes from various plays, and rows and rows of velvet chairs for the audience to sit in covered its carpeted floor. Box seats carved with cherubs and embellished with gold leaf jutted out along the walls, providing seating for any extra-special guests.
The stage itself was at the far end of the auditorium and had fancy blue velvet curtains edged with gold braid, fringe, and tassels. There were some desk chairs and random props scattered around on its wooden floor.
Red Riding Hood nudged Snowflake and nodded toward something that looked like a little doll riding atop a butterfly that was buzzing around the stage. “See, over there?” she said. “That’s Mr. Thumb and his butterfly buddy, Schmetterling — that’s the German word for butterfly. They were both actors and traveled all over Grimmlandia before coming to teach Drama here at the Academy. They’re famous.”
Mr. Thumb, who was no bigger than … well … a thumb, suddenly flew across the auditorium to hover in the air only a couple of feet from Snowflake’s nose. He wore a hat made from an oak leaf and a thistledown jacket. Together, he and the iridescent orange-and-black monarch butterfly he rode made a striking sight.
After consulting the little vellum paper list he held in his small gloved hands, Mr. Thumb glanced up at Red and Snowflake. “Ah, Red Riding Hood! And who is this?”
“Snowflake,” said Snowflake, introducing herself. “Both of us used to have Scrying fourth period. But since Ms. Wicked’s gone, Ms. Jabberwocky reassigned us here.”
“Good to have you! The more the merrier!” Mr. Thumb’s voice was as tiny as he was, so he used a silver thimble as a bullhorn to make himself heard.
Red Riding Hood smiled. “Yeah, with more students, we can put on ev
en bigger productions now.”
Once everyone had gathered in the velvet seats closest to the stage, Mr. Thumb began class. “Welcome, students, new and old,” he told them. “Today we will work on improvisation. That means acting without any preparation or planning. So I’ll give you a setup, and you’ll just jump right in, improvising a short scene.”
Glancing at his list, he called, “Come onstage, Red Riding Hood, Wolfgang, and Snowflake. You’ll go first.”
Red Riding Hood left her basket in the care of a friend named Polly, but Snowflake took her Handbook along, just in case. Then Red, Wolfgang, and Snowflake climbed up onstage.
Mr. Thumb shouted, “Pretend you’re in the Grimm History of Barbarians and Dastardlies class. Your teacher, Mr. Hump-Dumpty, announces a pop quiz. What do you do?”
“Cry?” Snowflake blurted out. The other students laughed and even Mr. Thumb smiled. Maybe taking part in this class wouldn’t be so bad.
“Okay. Cue. Begin!” instructed the teacher.
Red Riding Hood and Wolfgang, who were both experienced actors, immediately launched into acting out a scene. And they made sure to include Snowflake. Right off, Wolfgang pretended to be Mr. Hump-Dumpty. So naturally, Red Riding Hood and Snowflake took on the role of students, which wasn’t all that hard, since they actually were!
As others in the class looked on, Wolfgang picked up a yardstick lying among some other random props. Then, in imitation of Mr. Hump-Dumpty (who was basically an enormous egg with a face, arms, and legs), he leaned back, stuck out his stomach, and tucked in his chin to make himself look round.
Meanwhile, Red and Snowflake set two wooden chairs that were onstage side by side, and sat as if in a classroom. Wolfgang began to walk around, tapping the yardstick on the floor in the same way Mr. Hump-Dumpty often tapped his snazzy walking stick. Abruptly he stopped and pointed it at the two girls. “All right, class, today we’re having a pop quiz! The purpose being to eggzamine eggsactly how much you know.”
Many students out in the audience couldn’t help laughing or applauding his imitation. It was spot-on!
