The Unfairest of Them All Page 6

  After Old King Cole and Empress Buff, she’d rushed a visit to every single available Royal, including three separate branches of the various Charming clans; Briar’s mom, Sleeping Beauty (who napped through most of the interview); and Briar’s aunt, that other Beauty, who had married a transformed Beast.

  Well, there was one more left.

  SNOW WHITE. SUBMIT.

  Home! Apple’s blue eyes sharpened with tears. She hopped out of the wishing well and ran into the White palace, shouting out, “Hello, Cassandra!” and “Good afternoon, Dumpy!” and “Why, thank you, Zelda, plenty of fresh water and exercise do wonders for the complexion.”

  Soon, Apple was racing into her mother’s library, her arms open.

  “Apple!” Snow White said. Or rather, squeaked. The original Fairest One of All had spent so much time lost in the woods talking with squirrels her voice never did lower again into its natural range.

  Mother and daughter embraced and spoke quickly. Apple had been hexting her all the alarming details of what Raven did on Legacy Day, so she had to fill her in on only the latest. Snow wore her ebony hair in a braided crown. In contrast to her dark hair, her pale skin seemed even paler, her cheeks revealing the barest of blushes. Her dark eyes were as gentle as a doe’s, her red-lipped smile near constant.

  A gaggle of smiling servants brought milk and cookies, and when they were alone, Apple asked Snow her Yester Day question.

  “Trouble?” said Snow. “You know, I haven’t had trouble, not since your father kissed me right out of that poisoned sleep. And I never really worried, because I knew that, eventually, everything would end up Happily Ever After.”

  Apple nodded. She used to be able to count on her destiny, too. But that security had been ripped away.

  “Even so, there were dark times,” said Snow White. “I lived with the Evil Queen, after all. And she… didn’t like me much.”

  Snow shivered, and crumbs of her cookie fell to the floor. A flock of bluebirds swooped through the window, pecked up the crumbs, and tweeted.

  Snow White laughed, a sound like tinkling glass. “Why, thank you, my feathered friends.”

  The birds sang a few notes and flew away again.

  “But whenever things were too hard for me, I could always find help. Kind servants at Queen Castle. The Huntsman. The dwarves. Most people are genuinely good, sweetheart, and even the evil ones have some good in them. Everyone needs a smile and a friend, whether they know it or not.”

  Apple paused in her note-taking. “What about the Evil Queen? Did she need a smile and a friend?”

  Snow sighed, her expression clouding a little. “Her most of all, I think.” Snow bowed her head. “You know, sweetheart, I blame myself a little.”

  “For the Evil Queen being evil? What? That’s silly!”

  “Her being evil was just part of the story. But the rest of it—how she went from kingdom to kingdom spreading hate and fear, poisoning poor little Wonderland—it was… terrible.” Snow’s voice broke with sorrow.

  Apple put a hand on her mother’s arm.

  “No, Mother, that wasn’t your fault.”

  “What if I’d been a friend to her? That wasn’t part of the story, but nothing says I couldn’t have tried. Or tried harder, anyway. Maybe if she’d had any kind of a friend to stand beside her, Wonderland might still be there.”

  “It’s still there. Just poisoned. Someone will figure out a way to fix it.”

  Snow looked at her daughter with kind eyes. “Who?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Apple. “Someone?”

  Snow took her daughter’s hand. “That’s the sort of effort that would need a leader. Someone to take charge. But there’s no story about someone fixing Wonderland, and in Ever After, if there’s no story, it rarely happens. As much as I love this place, that’s one thing that’s always troubled me. Just a little.”

  Apple nodded. Perhaps that’s why Ever After did have such a hard time stopping the Evil Queen. The moment someone went off script, no one knew what to do. An unscripted crisis was pure evil!

  “But don’t you believe it will turn out all right in The End? What about Legacy Day? What about my destiny?”

  “I want you to have your Happily Ever After,” said her mother. “More than anything! And the loss of the Snow White story would be catastrophic. But I don’t know what will fix everything.” She squeezed Apple’s hand. “Still, you’re right. I have hope. And people are good. You are good. And, you know, Raven was always the sweetest little girl.”

  Snow sighed, blinked, and smiled. Sunlight seemed to fill the room again. Apple could never feel sad for long, not in the presence of Snow White.

  “Leadership, Apple. Every effort, group, and kingdom needs a leader its members can look up to.”

  “But how do you lead those who don’t want to be led? How do you do it when it’s really hard?”

  “The key is…” Snow whisper-squeaked.

  Apple leaned in. “Yes?”

  “The key is…” Snow leaned closer, too. Her red lips parted, showing her perfectly white teeth. “To keep smiling.”

  “What?” said Apple. Surely her mother couldn’t be suggesting that a smile could solve everything.

  “All look to you,” said Snow. “If you’re smiling, then others will believe that everything is okay.”

  “But… but if everyone is angry and throwing food and shouting?”

  “You just keep smiling.”

  “Even when you get smacked in the face with porridge?”

  Snow laughed and nodded. “Especially then. And when they look to you, just you remember to look back.”

  “You mean… like, make eye contact?” Apple asked.

  Snow smiled and nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling happily.

  Ever After High was in turmoil, and her mother’s advice was to smile and make eye contact?

  She doesn’t understand. The thought scalded in Apple like too-hot porridge. Her mother had never had to deal with anything serious, not outside the events of her own story.

  “Keep a confident smile, Apple,” said Snow. “And when you look back, look deeper. I mean, more than—”

  Suddenly a dwarf bustled up to her mother’s elbow.

  “Your Majesty, so sorry to interrupt,” said the dwarf.

  “It’s perfectly fine, Achey,” Snow said, smiling. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  Achey glanced at Apple and then at Snow. “The finch is back.”

  “Oh dear,” said Snow. “And the cooks?”

  “They’re hoping you would, you know, sing it out?” said Achey.

  “Of course, of course,” Snow said. “I’m sorry, dear. Call me later?”

  “Sure,” said Apple, feeling her shoulders slump.

  Apple shuffled back to the wishing well, accosted by a strange, creeping sensation that wanted to pull her down to the ground. She named it epic failure. She hexted Briar Beauty.

  APPLE: Where r u?

  Briar hexted her coordinates. Apple loaded them into the Yester Day app and entered the wishing well.

  She emerged onto unfamiliar terrain. The ground was soft and misty, as if a heavy fog was rolling in, even though the sky was huge above her and as blue as Poppy O’Hair’s latest hairstyle. Apple could see no mountains, no forest, just one lone tree.

  “Apple!” Briar flung herself at her friend, squeezing her tight. “I’m so glad you’re joining me!”

  “Are you visiting someone around here?” Apple asked. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and she couldn’t see anyone in the strange landscape.

  “Nope,” said Briar, fiddling with some new kind of belt. “I already visited all the fairytale characters who sleep through part of their story—your mom, my mom, my grandma, Rip Van Winkle. The last three dozed off after two minutes flat, so I had the rest of the afternoon free to practice for the HeXtreme Games!”

  Apple was about to ask what the HeXtreme Games were, but she was distracted by Briar’s belt.
It was hot pink, strappy, and buckled not only around her waist but over her shoulders and between her legs. Apple thought it made her skirt bunch up weirdly, but Briar was always on the cusp of new trends, so Apple trusted it was completely fashionable.

  “How was your day? Tell me everything!” said Briar.

  “Well, I don’t want to complain,” Apple began.

  “Oh, go ahead and complain. That’s why you have a best friend forever after.”

  “Well, I visited a bunch of royalty, searching for answers about how to lead the students of Ever After High through this crisis, but it turns out no one has really faced an unscripted crisis of their own.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Briar, strapping one of those odd belts around Apple now.

  “The only real crises were the ones in their stories, and the stories told them how to get out of it. And their subjects never rose up against them, because that wasn’t part of the story. But since Raven broke everything on Legacy Day, we don’t have the safety of our destinies anymore. Anything could happen, and no one knows what to do about it.”

  “Right,” said Briar, buckling the bits over Apple’s shoulders.

  “So I went to ask my mom’s advice, but she said, ‘Keep smiling and make eye contact,’ as if that’s the answer to everything.”

  “Totally disenchanting,” Briar said, running the belt beneath Apple and up her back.

  “And so I just feel… like a damsel in distress.” Apple stuck out her bottom lip and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes.

  Briar held on to Apple’s shoulders and stared at her with intense brown eyes. “Everything will work out Happily Ever After. You’ve always believed that. Just believe.”

  Apple wanted to believe, but she was distracted by that lone tree. Broad, bright green leaves, thick green trunk. Now that Apple thought about it, it wasn’t a tree at all so much as the top of…

  Apple grabbed the belt thingy at her waist. No. No, it couldn’t be.

  “Briar…” said Apple. “Where are we?”

  Apple heard a click behind her as Briar snapped a brass hook to the back of her belt thingy.

  “No,” said Apple, trying to struggle out of the belt that she now realized wasn’t a belt at all. “No, no, no, not again…”

  She spotted the stretchy, bungee vine leading from the hook on the back of her harness, along the cloudy ground, and back to the top of the tree/beanstalk.

  “No,” Apple said, but she could manage only a whisper.

  “Come on,” said Briar. “One bungee jump and you’ll forget to be blue!”

  Briar grabbed Apple’s hand, ran, and leaped through a hole in the clouds, tugging Apple after her.

  And suddenly Apple was falling, the clouds left up above her, the Beanstalk a rush of bright green beside her, the wind a slap against her face.

  “Hextreeeeeme!” cried Briar.

  “Aaaaaaahhhh!!!” screamed Apple.

  BANISH HER! BANISH HER!”

  The words struck out from both the Hood clan and the Wolf clan like thrown stones.

  Raven felt sick. Banishment was the most severe punishment in all of Ever After. Banishment meant Cerise could never again go home to Hood Hollow. Her family could live elsewhere, but all fairytale characters were magically tied to their setting. Raven just didn’t feel right whenever she was away from Queen Castle for too long. Losing home forever? It was unthinkable! Even beneath Maddie’s constant amusement and merriment ran a quiet sadness that she was lost from her setting, unable to go home to Wonderland.

  “No, no, no!” Red Riding Hood ran onto the bridge, eyes thick with tears, but voice confident. “No! Banishment must be a unanimous vote, and as a member of the Hood clan, I will never vote for it!”

  An old woman in a long nightgown, lacy nightcap, and spectacles raised her wrinkled hand. The crowds quieted for whom Raven guessed could only be Grandma. The Grandma.

  “It’s true enough, what Red says,” said Grandma, offering Cerise a sad smile. “And I don’t like the thought of banishing a member of my own family. But no denying this is serious business. The Evil Queen went off script—and look what happened there.”

  As one, the entire Hood and Wolf clans shuddered.

  “No, sir and ma’am, no good comes from going off script,” said Grandma. “This isn’t Cerise’s fault, but the laws are clear. She is the result of her parents’ abandoning their destiny, and if the people vote her out, she cannot remain.”

  “But—” Red started.

  Grandma raised her hand again. “But banishment is also serious business. What do you say, Cried Wolf?” she asked, turning to the wolf-were. “How about we settle the dispute with a good old-fashioned Basket Run trial?”

  Cried Wolf growled but nodded. “The winner will decide Cerise’s fate.”

  “A basket what?” Raven whispered.

  “All right, people and canines, you know the rules,” said Grandma. “We start at the village, go down the forest path, and end at my house. The first Hood to cross the finish vine still holding a basket wins. If no basketed Hood manages to finish, then whichever Wolf snatches the most baskets wins. The winner decides the fate of our young Cerise.” Grandma looked at Cerise and clucked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t seem right to banish one so young, but there are laws to uphold.”

  She said it as if Cerise’s fate were already determined, and Raven supposed it was. Looking over the scowling faces, Raven had no doubt that whoever won—Hood or Wolf—would vote to banish Cerise.

  Unless Red won the race. The odds weren’t in her favor, though—there were a dozen Wolfs and a hundred other Hoods.

  The Hoods began stretching their hamstrings, jogging in place. Some Wolfs shot up into human-ish form, others staying canines, pacing back and forth.

  “Hext your father,” Red whispered to Cerise. “He has a better chance of winning than I do.”

  “The game begins as soon as I give the signal from my watchtower,” Grandma declared.

  Cerise was tapping on her MirrorPhone. “Wait—!”

  “We have to move fast, dearie,” Grandma said to Cerise, and then, leaning in, whispered, “before things really turn big bad.” She started to walk. “Each team, pick a coach to join me in the watchtower.”

  The elderly Brother Hood and white-haired Cranky Wolf volunteered.

  “I want to compete, too!” Cerise said, still quickly typing on her phone. “I want a say in my own fate.”

  “You don’t fit on either team, dearie,” said Grandma.

  “Then I’ll be my own team,” said Cerise. “And Raven Queen will represent me in the tower.”

  Grandma and the two coaches huddled in conference. The Wolf and the Hood were shouting, angry, but Raven heard Grandma say, “Nothing in the rules specifically against it. You’ve got to let her.”

  “If you let her compete,” Raven shouted, “and she loses, you can throw me in the river!”

  The two coaches grunted agreement. Grandma waved Raven forward and continued to walk briskly away.

  Raven hurried after the three down a long, narrow forest path, monstrous trees guarding the darkness on either side. They reached Grandma’s cottage and climbed a ladder to the top of a spindly tower. The platform gave Raven a view of the entire path all the way back to Hood Hollow.

  “The girl is an abomination,” said Brother Hood.

  Cranky Wolf growled. “This is the first time we agree on anything. And it will be the last.”

  “Shush up, you two,” said Grandma, handing them each a megaphone.

  “Can I get a megaphone, too?” Raven asked.

  “There isn’t an extra one,” said Grandma. “You’ll just have to shout.”

  Shout? There was no way Cerise would be able to hear her.

  Raven slipped her hand into her sleeve and turned on her MirrorPhone. As far as she knew, hexting Cerise wasn’t against the rules, but who knew what the others in that watchtower would do to prevent Cerise from winning.

  RAVEN: turn on your
phone’s audio hexting and put phone in your hood pocket so you can hear what I hext you, k?

  Cerise was so far away Raven couldn’t see if she did as Raven asked.

  “On your marks,” Grandma shouted into her megaphone, “get set, and run for your lives!”

  The Hoods had the advantage in numbers. The hundred villagers came rushing down the forest path, all equipped with one basket over their arms. In the far back, Raven spotted a red cloak—it was Cerise, darting through the crowd, trying to make it forward. The Hoods seemed to be working against her, purposefully keeping her pinned behind.

  “That’s right, keep it up!” Brother Hood yelled into the megaphone. “Nice and straight, don’t trample each other.”

  At first Raven couldn’t see any Wolfs, but here and there she spotted dark shadows sliding through the forest. Apparently their starting point had been back in the woods, and they ran perpendicular to the path to intercept the Hoods.

  “Incoming Wolfs!” Brother Hood shouted.

  “Hoods at twelve o’clock!” Cranky Wolf bellowed into his megaphone.

  And the first Wolf erupted from the trees. He was monstrously huge, bright gray with a long, toothy snout in full snarl. He tackled the Hood man who was running in front. There was a brief wrestle, and the Wolf came away with the man’s basket. The Wolf howled in triumph. The man sat on the ground. He was out.

  “That’s it, Horribus!” said Cranky. “Now, step out of bounds and get another one!”

  Horribus Wolf entered the forest on the other side of the path, ran a ways in, and then pivoted back, emerging again onto the path to tackle a second Hood.

  Even the human-form Wolfs were hairy and scary, with large ears the better to hear Hoods with, wide eyes the better to see Hoods with, and sharp teeth the better to bite clean through a basket handle. The Wolfs crisscrossing the path took basket after basket after basket. Still, there were so many Hoods, Raven wasn’t sure the Wolfs could basket-tag them all before someone managed to cross the finish vine. It would be close.