“Umm…” There is no way I’m sharing anything in here.
“Umm?” Professor Harlow mocks in a high-pitched voice. “Umm? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” She drums her fingernails on the crystals on her sleeves. “How proud your parents must be of your remarkable intelligence.”
A few people laugh. Jocelyn is the loudest.
My eyes narrow, even though I know they shouldn’t. “I said ‘umm’ because there really isn’t anything I want to share.” Weakness is not a characteristic you want to share with the world, I can hear Father say.
Harlow snaps her fingers and I feel a cold swirling sensation come over me. The room is suddenly windy and my hair blows in front of my eyes, preventing me from seeing what is happening. Then just as suddenly, the wind dies away, and our desks have been arranged in a circle. It must be time for group sharing. My classmates look somber and it’s easy to see why. From the windowless walls and numerous torches that cast eerie shadows on the wall to the black bird perched on Professor Harlow’s shoulder, the vibe is sort of creepy. How is this a room for bonding?
“Maybe a casual group setting will make you more eager to ’fess up.” Harlow appears in front of my desk again as if by magic. No one can move that fast. “Share, Miss Cobbler. Now,” she says sharply.
I open my mouth, knowing another obnoxious comment will just land me in hotter water, but a short, stocky troll girl beats me to the punch. “I don’t mind going first,” she says. I smile at her gratefully.
Harlow whirls around, her cape flying in the air behind her like it’s going to give her wings. “Then go.”
“Hi, everyone. I’m Maxine.” She tugs on one of her large ears, which are covered in earrings of every gem and stone found in the Enchantasia mines.
“Hi, Maxine,” we all say like we’re supposed to.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the Troll War. Maybe because I lived through it,” she says softly. I watch as one of her eyes goes down as she speaks while the other stays in place. “The things I saw still keep me up at night.”
“You’re a troll,” Jocelyn pipes up. “You’re supposed to be up at night lurking around.” A girl next to her snickers, and I give them both the evil eye.
“Jocelyn,” Harlow says in a light tone. “Let her finish. And no name-calling,” she adds. “That’s my job. Go on, Maxine.”
“I keep wondering when the war will finally be over.” Maxine side-eyes Jocelyn, one eye rolling in its socket. “When no more lives will be lost.”
“Never!” Jocelyn jumps in. “We should let trolls and goblins all kill each other. Who needs either of them?”
Poor Maxine looks like she’s going to cry, and I snap. Who does Jocelyn think she is? “We could say the same thing about your family,” I speak up. “A lot of people think the Evil Queen should have been banished after what she did to Snow White. Who wants your family in Enchantasia either?” Jocelyn stares at me darkly, and I feel a deep pinch sink into my right arm.
“Ouch!” How’d she do that?
“Temper, temper, Miss Gillian,” Professor Harlow tsks, but she sounds pleased. “You wouldn’t want me to give your first detention for telling lies, would you? Excellent sharing, Jocelyn.” Jocelyn smiles smugly and I roll my eyes.
Squawk! Aldo the crow swoops in and lands on my desk. Squawk! It’s like he’s reporting me for eye-rolling, which is just plain insane, and yet…
Professor Harlow puts out her hand, and Aldo flies back onto her shoulder. The two stare at me disapprovingly. Harlow’s eyes travel down to my lace-up boots. “What are those?” she asks. “Those shoes are not proper uniform attire. Surely, the shoemaker’s daughter can afford shoes at least.”
“They hurt my feet,” I say. And they’re ugly.
Harlow snaps her fingers, and my favorite boots are gone and the ugly black school shoes are on my feet. What the…? “Too bad. You can have your old boots back when you learn how to fly like Aldo. Now, Miss Maxine, let’s talk about being a troll. Do you feel ashamed to be such a creature?”
“What?” Maxine cries. “That’s such a mean thing to say, Professor.”
“I was just joking, darling,” the Evil Queen says. “I wanted to see where your emotions were, and now we know, don’t we? You’re ashamed of being a troll.”
Thump.
We all look up. I’m thankful for the distraction.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Professor Harlow looks up at the ceiling in annoyance, but ignores the sounds. “Maxine, tell me your darkest moment being a troll.” Her eyes flash green. “Actually, why don’t you all recall your darkest moment in a thousand-word essay that must be finished before the end of the class. Start now.” She snaps her fingers and the torches brighten. She uses the opportunity to go to the mirror behind her desk. I watch her examine her face and then reach for one of the purple bottles on her desk. She begins applying lotion to her cheeks.