“What news? There’s no new news,” she scoffed, meaning nothing new ever happened on the island. The island’s old-fashioned fuzzy-screened televisions only broadcast two channels—Auradon News Network, which was full of do-gooder propaganda, and the DSC, the Dungeon Shopping Channel, which specialized in hidden-lair décor. “And slow down, or we’ll get there on time,” she added.
They turned off the main road, toward the uneven, broken-down graveyard that was the front lawn of Dragon Hall. The venerable school for the advancement of evil education was located in a former mausoleum, a hulking gray structure with a domed ceiling and a broken-down colonnade, its pediment inscribed with the school’s motto: IN EVIL WE TRUST. Scattered around its haunted grounds, instead of the usual tombstones, were doomstones with horrible sayings carved into them. As far as the leaders on this island were concerned, there was never a wrong time to remind its citizens that evil ruled.
“No way, I heard news. Real news,” he insisted, his heavy combat boots stomping through the root-ripped graveyard terrain. “Check it out—there’s a new girl in class.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m totally serious,” he said, narrowly avoiding stumbling over a doomstone inscribed with the phrase IT IS BETTER TO HAVE NEVER LOVED AT ALL THAN TO BE LOVED.
“New girl? From where, exactly?” Mal asked, pointing to the magical dome that covered the island and shrouded the sky, obscuring the clouds. Nothing and no one came in or out, so there wasn’t ever a whole lot of new.
“New to us. She’s been castle-schooled until now, so it’s her first time in the dungeon,” said Jay as they approached the wrought-iron gates, and the crowd gathered around the entrance parted to let them through, many of their fellow students clutching their backpacks a little more tightly at the sight of the thieving duo.
“Really.” Mal stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean, ‘castle-schooled’?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“A real princess too, is what I’ve heard. Like, your basic true-love’s-kiss-prick-your-finger-spin-your-gold-skip-the-haircut-marry-the-prince-level princess.” He felt dizzy just thinking about it. “Think I could lift a crown off her somewhere? Even a half-crown…?” His father was always talking about The Big Score, the one fat treasure that would free them from the island somehow. Maybe the princess would lead them to it.
“A princess?” Mal said sternly. “I don’t believe you.”
Jay wasn’t listening anymore. “I mean, think of the loot she’d have on her! She’s got to have a ton of loot, right? Hope she’s easy on the eyes! Better yet, on the pockets. I could use an easy mark.”
Mal’s voice was suddenly acid. “You’re wrong. There weren’t any princesses on the island, and certainly not any who would dare to show their faces around here.…”
Jay stared at her, and in the back of his mind he heard alarm bells and had a faint memory of an awesome birthday party concerning a princess…and some sort of scandal that involved Mal and her mother. He felt bad, remembering now that Mal hadn’t received an invitation, but he quickly suppressed the icky emotion, unsure of where it came from. Villains were supposed to revel in other people’s sadness, not empathize!
Besides, when it came down to it, Mal was like a sister, an annoying, ever-present pest, and a pain in the…
Bells. Ringing and echoing through the island from the top of the tower, where Claudine Frollo was tugging the rope and being pulled up along with it as she rang in the official start of the Dragon Hall school day.
Jay and Mal shared a smirk. They were officially tardy. The first thing that had gone right all morning.
They passed through the crumbling and moss-covered archway and into the main tomb, which was buzzing with activity—members of the Truant Council putting up signs for a Week-Old Bake Sale; the earsplitting sounds of the junior orchestra practicing for the Fall Concert, the sea witches leaning over their violins.
Frightened students scrambled to get out of their way as Mal and Jay walked past the dead ivy–covered great hall toward the rusting double doors that led to the underground class-tombs. A tiny first-year pirate who ran with Harriet Hook’s crew got lost in the shuffle, blocking their path.
Mal came to a halt.
The boy slowly lifted his head, his eye patch trembling.
“S-s-so s-s-sorry, M-m-m-mal,” he said.
“M-m-m-MOVE IT,” Mal said, her voice high and mocking. She rolled her eyes and kicked the torn textbooks out of her way. The boy scampered toward the first open door he saw, dropping his fake hooked hand in his haste and sending it rolling away.
Jay kept his silence, knowing to tread lightly as he picked up the hook and stuffed it inside his jacket. But he couldn’t help asking, “Why not just throw a party of your own instead of sulking about it?”
“What are you talking about?” said Mal. “As if I care.”