“I’m sorry, guys,” I say to my sniveling siblings. I won’t look at my parents. I try to sound upbeat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Pete snorts. “Doubt that.” He grabs the back of my shirt and I elbow him in the ribs. “Ow!”
“Gilly!” Father scolds.
“Like I said, you won’t be leaving FTRS for a while,” Pete seethes. “Which is great news for me, bad for you. You, my little thief, are off to Fairy Tale Reform School.”
CHAPTER 3
Time to Face the Music
“Let me go, Olaf!” I bark as the big guy swings me through the giant oak doors at Fairy Tale Reform School and drops me on the marble floor with a loud thud.
Ouch!
That’s the second time he’s dropped me today. The first time was when he put me in the carriage to take me to FTRS. If this is how they treat minor criminals, I can’t imagine what they’d do if they came across Alva, the fairy who cursed Princess Rose to all those years of slumber.
“Get these handcuffs off me,” I yell as Pete stands there calmly, chewing on a piece of taffy. He looks like he’s enjoying my tantrum. “I know my rights! I’m only twelve. You’re not supposed to handcuff me!”
“Normally we’re not supposed to cuff a kid, but you can’t be trusted,” Pete grumbles. “Last time I let you go, a ruby ring mysteriously disappeared from a visiting queen’s fat finger not five minutes later!”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” That pick freaked me out, but it bought us enough food to last a month. No regrets there.
“The handcuffs stay until the boss lady gets here,” Pete says.
Headmistress Flora. I’ve seen Ella’s former stepmother in the village. That woman never cracks a smile. I might as well enjoy whatever “freedom” I have left. “Can you give me a hand up at least?” I ask Pete. He nods to Olaf, who lifts me by my armpits. I shrug out of his grasp and take a look around the giant hall.
So this is what Fairy Tale Reform School looks like. Having heard the rumors all these years, I was expecting to see kids handcuffed to walls and torture chambers. The woman who runs this place supposedly made her own daughters cut off part of their feet to fit into Ella’s precious glass slipper, so I wouldn’t put anything past her. But if she’s hiding a torture chamber in this building, it’s not in the swanky foyer.
I can’t let my guard down, but I have to say…
This place looks cushy! The outside is. It took the carriage at least ten minutes to get from the gates to the castle, which is surrounded by a moat. Olaf said the moat is filled with hungry crocs to keep kids from escaping, but I think he was trying to scare me.
I hope.
The castle doesn’t look creepy at all—well, if you ignore the fact there are some gargoyle statues hanging around. With its trio of tall towers, mint-green roof, and ivy and rainbow-colored flowers everywhere, it rivals the courtyard of Royal Manor. Even the doors Olaf tossed me through were pretty—pale green with strange hand-carved panels that show pictures of a full moon, an apple, a mermaid, and a glass slipper.
The inside is inviting too. Olaf won’t let me go far, but I can make out a large fireplace in the sitting room that looks quite toasty. Velvet couches and leather chairs perfect for reading surround the fire and are also tucked into nooks next to large stained-glass windows. Candles are burning everywhere. Some are scented, which make me a bit woozy, and a bit hungry too. I can hear light music playing in the distance—something classical—but this room is silent, empty, and spacious. Ahhh. I take a moment to enjoy the space. Then I spot a large, gold sign above the doorway to the sitting room.
I burst out laughing. Are they serious? Turn a villain into a hero? That would be like asking a mermaid to morph into an ogre! I laugh harder, holding my belly, which is growling now that I missed what little we would have had for dinner.
The boot my family lives in gives new meaning to the word “cozy,” but this place is huge! My sisters and brothers could go wild without ever worrying about knocking over a candle and setting our boot on fire. It’s sort of fancy though, which could be a problem for Han and Hamish. I’ve never seen so many golden chandeliers and mirrors in my life. Large mirrors; small, ornately framed, creepy, jeweled ones; and a massive oval one with a purple gilded frame that hangs in the two-story entrance. I sense someone here is a mirror collector.