Rise of the Isle of the Lost
Melissa de La Cruz
For Mattie & Mike,
Always
And for
Heidi, Sasha, and Calista Madzar,
friends & allies, thank you for all your support and enthusiasm for the series!
Once upon a time, the offspring of an evil fairy and a sea witch were friends. Mal, daughter of Maleficent, Mistress of Darkness, and Uma, daughter of Ursula, Witch of the Seas, were an inseparable duo, partners-in-petty-crime. Mal had purple hair, flashing green eyes, and a mischievous streak, while Uma had turquoise locks, eyes the color of the abyss, and a wicked sense of fun. Luckily for the poor, unfortunate souls who lived on the Isle of the Lost, they didn’t get to see each other very much, since they lived on opposite sides of the island and went to rival schools—Dragon Hall for Mal and Serpent Prep for Uma.
Life on the Isle of the Lost—where all the villain folk had been banished after King Beast united all the good kingdoms and exiled all the evildoers and their snarky sidekicks—was already difficult. For one, an impenetrable dome covered the island and its surrounding waters, keeping out any source of magic, as well as every kind of Wi-Fi network. For another, most of the island’s residents subsisted on leftovers from Auradon’s mainland along with the goblins’ terrible coffee. But life always got a little worse during the summer when school was out, because that was when Mal and Uma could hit the streets together again.
They would rampage up and down the island, terrorizing step-granddaughters and traumatizing even the most stalwart goons, and no one would dare voice a peep of annoyance, for fear of something truly frightening—the girls’ mothers.
One hot day in June, not long after each had turned ten, Mal and Uma were playing on the docks by the water. The two bad little girls were pranking Hook’s crew, making tick-tock noises to scare the pirate captain himself, and getting on Smee’s already agitated nerves. They giggled naughtily behind some empty barrels as their best trick of all went off without a hitch. One pirate after another tripped and fell on the slippery wooden planks, which they had covered with a nearly invisible slime. It was Mal’s idea to coat the decks with bilge and oily, murky scum, and she laughed with glee to see it work so well.
“Here comes Cruella De Vil,” said Mal, spotting a telltale black-and-white bouffant rising from the crowd of pirates. “Let’s get her!”
Cruella was a nemesis of theirs. As one of the only citizens on the Isle who wasn’t afraid of Maleficent or Ursula, the Dalmatian-obsessed lady never hesitated to pinch their ears when they tried to make her their victim. They were determined to get her back one of these days, but they’d have to be crafty.
They watched her sauntering down the docks with a ratty spotted fur on her shoulder, glaring at everyone she met.
“What’s she doing down here, anyway?” whispered Uma.
“Goblin barge is arriving soon, and she likes to have first dibs,” explained Mal, holding her breath as Cruella sashayed closer and closer to where they were hiding. “She’s always hoping someone’s thrown away an old fur coat.”
The girls looked at each other, eyes sparkling with mischief. Mal raced to pour another batch of the disgusting concoction in Cruella’s path, but the giant bucket was too heavy for her.
“Hurry!” said Uma, running to grab the bucket’s other handle.
“I’ve got it!” said Mal.
“Let me!” said Uma. “You did Gaston!”
Mal chuckled darkly at the memory of the big man going bottoms-up on the dock and finally crashing over the railing with a loud roar and splash, his sons slack-jawed at the sight.
Uma pulled the bucket to her side.
“Stop it! Let go!” Mal demanded.
“You let go! You’re splashing it on me!” whined Uma.
They each yanked on the bucket. As Uma wrenched it away, Mal lost her grip on the handle, overturning the pail and its contents—and she tripped and fell upon their own slippery puddle.
“Mal!” yelped Uma, as her friend skittered down the length of the dock, flailing, all the way to the edge.
“Help! Help me!” Mal screamed, as she attempted to grasp the wooden rails while she sped toward the sea. “I can’t swim!”
But the irony that the mastermind had been caught in her own naughty little prank and the sight of her purple friend sliding down the docks like a flopping wet fish was too hilarious for Uma to resist, and instead of running to help, the little sea witch was doubled up on her knees in laughter.
Mal spun down past the gaggle of pirates, past a confused Cruella De Vil, and disappeared overboard.
That shook Uma from her laughing fit. “Mal!” she called, rushing to the railing’s edge. “Mal! Where are you? Are you okay?” Uma craned her neck, searching the churning waters for a sign of her friend.
Her heart stopped, for she couldn’t catch sight of Mal’s purple head anywhere in the waves, and while Maleficent might find it amusing that her daughter had landed in the drink, she would not take too kindly to the news that her one and only spawn was gone forever.
“Mal! Where are you?” Uma cried, a little desperately now.
Uma felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to see Mal standing there, totally dry. “You didn’t fall in!” she cried in relief.
“I caught a wooden rung right before I fell,” said Mal sweetly.
“You’re all right!”
“Yes, I’m okay,” said Mal with a sugary smile that suddenly turned evil. “But you’re not!” she yelled, and before Uma could blink, Mal reached behind her back and dumped a huge bucket of smelly and disgusting baby shrimps all over Uma’s head. Turned out Mal had scampered back up on the docks just in time to see the goblins unloading the latest catch from the barge. Furious at her friend for laughing at her bad luck, Mal decided to create a little bad luck herself.
Uma screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
Sadly, the smell never quite left Uma’s hair, no matter how many times she washed it.
Much worse, Mal’s nickname for her caught on, and from that fateful day forward, everyone called Uma “Shrimpy” behind her back.
Except for Mal, of course, who called Uma Shrimpy to her face.
From the sandbox to the doomball courts, the animosity between the two girls festered and bubbled over the years—especially during rival super-sinister-thirteen birthday parties, which they scheduled on the same night. Somehow, Mal always ended up on top.
But Uma knew the day would come when she would beat Mal at her own game.