The School for Good and Evil (The School for Good and Evil, #1)

by Soman Chainani

Sophie had waited all her life to be kidnapped.

“I’m still trying to figure out why you’re friends with me.” “Because you’re sweet and funny,” said Sophie. “My mother says I’m bitter and grumpy,” said Agatha. “So one of you is lying.”

if you say anything smug or stuck-up or shallow, I’ll have Reaper follow you home.” Sophie ran after her. “But then I can’t talk!”

“For the Create-a-Tale Competition, your story ended with Snow White eaten by vultures and Cinderella drowning herself in a tub.”

“Agatha, you dressed as a bride for Halloween.” “Weddings are scary.”

while shivering children tightened their window screws, Sophie prepared to undo hers. She wanted this kidnapping to be as convenient as possible.

But when the children presented the Storybook Theory, the adults responded as adults most often do. They patted the children’s heads and returned to sinkholes and cannibals.

Sophie knew the truth. She had seen it in his face every day of her life. Her father didn’t love her. Because she wasn’t a boy.

A simple exchange of vows and he’d have two sons, a new family, a fresh start.

Only when she was gone would he appreciate her. Only when she was gone would he know no one could replace her. And only when she was gone would he see he had spawned much more than a son. He had borne a princess.

For as long as Agatha could remember, she’d had a talent for making people go away.

Sophie searched desperately for a weapon—a stick, a stone, a dead goat—

Here was a mass of the miserable,

the cruelest expressions she’d ever seen, as if looking for something to hate. One by one their eyes fell on Sophie and they found what they were looking for.

Agatha did the only thing she knew how to do when faced with expectations. Up the blue Honor staircase, through sea-green halls, she ran,

Boys Ruin Everything

Sophie gaped, bewitched. Agatha hoped he’d impale himself.

wolves doused Evers with water buckets, fairies cast rainbows over the Nevers, and both sides shut up.

Agatha grimaced. The last thing she needed was this world perishing while they were still in it.

“Do we have Groom Rooms?” Pollux pursed his lips. “Nevers have Doom Rooms, dear.” “Where we get our hair done?” Sophie beamed. “Where you’re beaten and tortured,” Pollux said.

their opposing desires couldn’t have been clearer. Agatha wanted her only friend back. But a friend wasn’t enough for Sophie. Sophie had always wanted more. Sophie wanted a prince.

an inscription sweeping the corridor wall in cherry gumdrops: TEMPTATION IS THE PATH TO EVIL Agatha ate half of it before she hustled by two passing teachers,

No, they wrapped themselves in death like suits of armor!

For like all villains, death didn’t scare her. It made her feel alive.

Her best friend had called her a boob, flying tackled her, stolen her clothes, left her to witches, and then asked for love advice.

Agatha opened her heart to hope. Hope died ten minutes later.

(Sophie vowed if she had to see this boy one more time without clothes, she’d gouge out her eyes.)

“Right, because in the heat of battle, you’ll have time to run around naked and make your Goose crap,” Castor snarled.

For the third time that day, Agatha arrived to find a class was Girls Only. Surely the School for Evil didn’t see the need to decide what was a “Boy” skill or “Girl” skill. But here in the Good Towers, the boys went off to fight with swords while girls had to learn dog barks and owl hoots.

No wonder princesses were so impotent in fairy tales, she thought. If all they could do was smile, stand straight, and speak to squirrels, then what choice did they have but to wait for a boy to rescue them?

Agatha snickered. When faced with an axe-wielding henchman, she would be sure to bring a butterfly.

What do Good souls wish for? Agatha wondered, watching the fish jumble into place. Peace for their kingdoms? Health for their families? Destruction of Evil? The fish drew a boy instead.

At first Agatha found it dumb, but now it was scary. This was what Good souls craved? Boys they didn’t even know? Based on what!

Who could ever love boys? Preening, useless thugs who thought the world belonged to them.

This girl wasn’t troubled that a lakeful of fish had just been turned into luggage. Instead, she was worried Agatha didn’t have her turn. Perhaps she wasn’t so bad after all. “So Reena can have her room when she fails,” Beatrix smiled. Agatha took it back.

As boys and teachers tackled porcupines (ill-advised) and screaming girls hopped desks in high heels (extremely ill-advised),

Agatha turned to a muscled silhouette hulking through sun mist. She wilted with relief. For once she was grateful for boys and ran towards her faceless prince— She jolted back. The horned gargoyle ripped through mist and blasted the door aflame.

They didn’t follow orders because they were loyal. They didn’t help princesses because they were loving. They did it because someday, maybe loyalty and love would be repaid with a second chance at being human.

Sophie was sure Beatrix had set the fire to get Tedros’ attention. No doubt he rescued her from the blazing tower, kissed her as Good burned, and had already set their wedding date. Sophie came up with this theory because this was what she had planned to do at lunch.

But pain meant they were still alive. Pain meant they still had hope for getting home.

With a chorus of groans, they staggered to their feet. Then Sophie saw the worst of the damage. “My shoe!” She held up her glass heel, snapped to a serrated stump. “They were one of a kind,” she mourned.

The girls were aghast someone would vandalize the tower, let alone ruin their figure with candy. Agatha tried to look just as scandalized. That’s when the marshmallows fell out of her pocket, followed by a blue lollipop, a hunk of gingerbread, and two bricks of fudge.

“I wanted my happy ending, Aggie,” Sophie said, tears sparkling. “Getting home alive is our happy ending, Sophie.”

“Villains don’t learn from apologies,” the Beast said. He considered a cudgel for a moment, then moved on. “Villains learn from pain.”

Sightless Sader couldn’t write history. But he could see it and wanted the same for his students.

“No spitting, sneezing, singing, sniffling, swinging, swearing, slapping, sleeping, or urinating in the Flowerground,” he said in the crabbiest voice imaginable. “Violations will result in removal of your clothes. All aboard!”

All the girls here were mistakes. Guineveres who confused love with kisses.

“Wait. So if a girl doesn’t get asked to the Ball, then she fails and suffers a punishment worse than death. But if a boy doesn’t go to the Ball, he gets half ranks? How is that fair!” “Because it’s the truth,” Kiko said. “A boy can choose to be alone if he wants. But if a girl ends up alone . . . she might as well be dead.”

Nevers seemed to have a phobia of toilets and avoided them entirely. (She had no idea what prompted this fear or where they relieved themselves, but she preferred not to think about it.)

Sophie met his eyes, steeling her heart. He’d love her back. He’d have to. Because she’d destroy him if he dared love anyone else.