“Now there are five rules that separate Good from Evil,” the gnome said, and wrote them in air with his smoking staff.
1. The Evil attack. The Good defend.
2. The Evil punish. The Good forgive.
3. The Evil hurt. The Good help.
4. The Evil take. The Good give.
5. The Evil hate. The Good love.
“As long as you obey the rules for your side, you have the best possible chance of surviving your fairy tale,” Yuba said to the group gathered in navy grass. “These rules should come with ease, of course. You have been chosen for your schools precisely because you show them at the highest level!”
Sophie wanted to scream. Help? Give? Love? That was her life! That was her soul!
“But first you must learn to recognize Good and Evil,” said Yuba. “In the Woods, appearances are often deceiving. Snow White nearly perished because she thought an old woman kind. Red Riding Hood found herself in a wolf’s stomach because she couldn’t tell the difference between family and fiend. Even Beauty struggled to distinguish between hideous beast and noble prince. All unnecessary suffering. For no matter how much Good and Evil are disguised, they can always be told apart. You must look closely. And you must remember the rules.”
For the class challenge, Yuba announced, each student had to distinguish between a disguised Ever and Never by observing their behavior. Whoever correctly identified the Good student and the Evil student in the fastest time would receive first rank.
“I’ve never done any of those Evil rules,” Sophie mourned, standing beside Tedros. “If only they knew all my Good Deeds!”
Beatrix turned. “Nevers shouldn’t talk to Evers.”
“Evers shouldn’t call Evers Nevers,” Sophie snapped.
Beatrix looked confused, while Tedros bit back a smile.
“You have to prove they switched you and the witch,” he whispered to Sophie once Beatrix turned back. “Win the challenge and I’ll go to Professor Dovey myself. If the gargoyle didn’t convince her, then this will.”
“You’d do that … for me?” Sophie said, eyes wide.
Tedros touched her black tunic. “Can’t flirt with you in this, can I?”
Sophie would have burned her robes right there if she could.
Hort volunteered to go first. As soon as he tied the ragged blindfold over his eyes, Yuba stabbed his staff at Millicent and Ravan, who magically shriveled in their pink and black clothes, smaller, smaller, until they slithered out of them, identical cobras.
Hort whipped off the blindfold.
“Well?” Yuba said.
“Look the bloody same to me,” Hort said.
“Test them!” Yuba scolded. “Use the rules!”
“I don’t even remember the rules,” Hort said.
“Next,” the gnome grouched.
For Dot’s turn, he changed Beatrix and Hort into unicorns. But then one unicorn started copying the other and vice versa, until they both pranced about like mimicking mimes. Dot scratched her head.
“Rule one! The Evil attack! The Good defend!” barked Yuba. “Which one started it, Dot?”
“Oh! Can we start again?”
“Not just bad,” Yuba grumped. “Worst!”
He squinted at his scroll of names. “Who would like to be disguised for Tedros?”
All the Evergirls raised their hands.
“You haven’t gone yet,” Yuba said, pointing at Sophie. “You either,” he said to Agatha.
“My grandmother could get this one right,” mumbled Tedros, tightening his blindfold.
Agatha tramped in front of the class and stood next to Sophie, who was blushing like a bride.
“Aggie, he doesn’t care what school I’m in or the color of my robes,” Sophie gushed. “He sees who I am.”
“You don’t even know him!”
Sophie flushed. “You’re not … happy for me?”
“He knows nothing about you!” Agatha shot back. “All he sees is your looks!”
“For the first time in my life, I feel like someone understands me,” Sophie sighed.
Hurt squeezed Agatha’s throat. “But what about—I mean, you said—”
Sophie met her eyes. “You’ve been such a good friend, Aggie. But we’ll be in different schools, won’t we?”
Agatha turned away.
“Ready, Tedros! Go!” Yuba jabbed his staff, and both girls exploded from their clothes into slimy, stinky hobgoblins.
Tedros took off the blindfold and jumped back, hand to nose. Sophie clasped her green claws and batted her wormy lashes at him. With Sophie’s words throbbing in her head, Agatha slumped sullenly and gave up.
“It seems too obvious,” Tedros said, eyeing the flirting hobgoblin.
Sophie stopped batting her lashes, confused.
“And that witch is craftier than you can imagine,” Tedros said, glancing between the two goblins.
Agatha rolled her eyes. This boy had a brain like a peanut.
“Feel with the heart, not the mind!” Yuba shouted at the prince.
Grimacing, Tedros closed his eyes. For a moment the prince hesitated. But then surely, powerfully, he felt himself pulled towards one of the hobgoblins.
Sophie gasped. It wasn’t her.
Tedros reached out and touched Agatha’s wet, warty cheek. “This one’s Sophie.” He opened his eyes. “This one’s the princess.”
Agatha gawped at Sophie, dumbstruck.
“Wait. I’m right,” Tedros said. “Right?”
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Sophie tackled Agatha. “YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!”
To everyone else, this sounded like “GOBBO OOMIE HOOWAH!” but Agatha understood it just fine.
“See how stupid he is! He can’t even tell us apart!” Agatha yelled.
“You tricked him!” Sophie shrieked. “Just like you tricked the bird and the wave and the—”
Tedros punched her in the eye.
“Leave Sophie alone!” he shouted.
Sophie gaped at him. Her prince had just punched her. Her prince had just confused her with Agatha. How could she prove who she was?
“Use the rules!” Yuba bellowed atop a log.
Suddenly understanding, Sophie lurched up so her spotted, humped body towered over Tedros, and she caressed his chest with her greasy green hand. “My dear Tedros. I forgive you for not knowing any better and won’t defend myself even though you attacked me. I only want to help you, my prince, and give us a story that will take us hand in hand to love, happiness, and Ever After.”
But all Tedros heard was a torrent of goblin growls, so he stomped on Sophie’s foot and ran towards Agatha’s goblin, arms outstretched. “I can’t believe you were ever friends with—”
Agatha kneed him in the groin.
“Now I’m confused,”