The first sign that I was wrong was quite literally more signs. Brightly colored art hung on the wooden support beams. Some were finger paintings, or tentacle paintings, I suppose, since they seemed to be signed by Cthulhu. Next, I passed a poster proclaiming “Hang in there,” which pictured a man in black hanging from a noose in a tree. But he was giving a thumbs-up, so I guess the visual was supposed to be encouraging.
After a few more depressing motivational posters, I exited the round hall and walked into a dirt-floor arena. Merlin and Gwenevere waited alone in the middle, but I could hear rustling and stomping from all directions. I turned and looked around. Another sign that this was not going well? I had an audience.
Orderlies led Kato, Mordred, and who I assumed were the other “patients” into balconies painted in happy primary colors. It looked like a rainbow had thrown up in here. And at a glance, the audience looked like the who’s who of wanted posters, except in this setting, they looked more pathetic than powerful. Aladdin’s evil sorcerer petted a stuffed parrot on his shoulder. A skeevy pirate glared at me while twirling his bluebeard. Even the really pale guy with a cap and fangs didn’t look too intimidating when he was plopped down on a sunny-yellow beanbag chair. Plus, his skin sparkled when the light hit him.
But it was the middle of the arena that made alarms go off in my brain, louder than if the hunchback rang the bells in my belfry. Merlin took two steps to the side, revealing a post with built-in shackles.
I cursed and struggled while the orderlies chained me to the post. “I thought this was a school. What the hex?”
Gwennie smiled broadly and gave my cheek a pinch. She turned to the balconies of beanbags. “Hello, my dear men. Welcome to today’s meeting of Villains Anonymous. Before we say our affirmations, I will let our newest initiate introduce himself.”
I glared and clamped my mouth shut.
Gwennie tsked. “Admitting you have a problem is the hardest part, and we are all here to help you through the steps. Everyone say hello to Rex.”
“Hello, Rex,” dozens of voices unenthusiastically hollered back.
Gwen continued, “When Merlin asked me to head up this little academy, it was a horrible place to learn to be vile.” The crowd grumbled. “Relish in the suffering of others.” More murmurs, some excited. “Act downright cruel.” That one got a bit of applause. “It broke my heart.” Gwen put her hand to her chest. “Those behaviors will only give you temporary joy, not a lasting happy ever after. What you need is love.”
There was no reaction from the audience.
While cheesy, Gwen’s philosophy sounded okay. Maybe this would work out after all.
Gwennie’s lip quivered, and she fanned invisible tears. “You need to love yourselves and find pride in your villainy if you want to succeed in taking over the world. Which is why I took over and transformed this abysmal place into the Enlightened Villains Institute and Laboratory.”
“Wait, what?” I said over the audience’s standing ovation.
“Now, everyone, say the serenity prayer with me.”
“There is serenity in my villainy,” everyone said in unison. “Storymakers crafted me a story I could not change. But now I will find the courage to change what I can. And take the power to make up the difference.”
Their booming voices hit my chest like a drum.
“What is this?” I asked Gwen while villains hugged it out and shook hands. “The rules of Story got busted, so now it’s an evil free-for-all where good isn’t guaranteed to win?”
“Perception is reality.” With a snap, she had two orderlies bring over a king-size mirror and place it right in front of me, so I was forced to look at my reflection. “Take a good look. What do you see?”
It was the first chance I’d been able to get a good peek at myself for a while. My short, blond hair was drying from my swim in the lake and starting to poke up again. Lake muck was smudged over a good bit of my face. And the leather Huntsmen-line hooded coat I’d swiped from DumBeau back in the forest really did make my shoulders look broader. I looked anything but feminine.
Which was good, since it seemed that Gwenevere had a jealous streak wider than her waistline.
“A huntsman,” I answered.
“These mirrors no longer show what is real. So we have to use a few other tricks.” She blew some glitter at me. “Tell me again: What do you see?”
I saw the same reflection. But instead I replied, “A nobody.”
Gwennie grinned widely. “Yes, that’s what all those who write the stories want you to believe. That you are a nobody. That you’re no good. A lowlife hood.”
I chuckled because she might be speaking to Rex the Huntsman, but the same applied to Rexi Hood.
“I’m telling you that there is no evil or good. There is only success or failure. The winner gets called a hero and the loser, a villain or a Forgotten. Well, who says the good guy wins?” She turned to the crowd and smashed the mirror to the ground. “Who says we are not the good guys? We need to be honest about who and what we really are and stop being ashamed of ourselves. We need to stop sabotaging ourselves because we don’t think we are worth it.” Her tone quieted. “You, Rex, are worth it.”
My eyes were warm and wet from the glitter. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to me. What she said made more sense than anything I’d heard in ages.
“Now prove it.” She yelled to the orderlies, “Release my little ponies! I’ll be in my rooms. Send him to me if he survives the first trial.”
Gwen hastily made an exit.
Survives? I shook my head to clear the glitter out of it. I’d forgotten I was tied to a stake.
Merlin had made his way to the edge of the arena too. He read from a clipboard with an abbreviation on the back: E. V. I. of L. “Let the trial of honesty and loyalty begin. You must be open to change. Lie to yourself and perish. Question number one: Why are you here?”
As the bright, poofy teacup unicorns trotted in, I figured this couldn’t be too bad. “Are they gonna kill me with cuteness?” I snickered at the absurdity, then told Merlin what he wanted to hear. “I want to be a great villain.”
The purple-haired unicorn closest to me turned black, its mane bursting into bright-blue flames.
Merlin twirled his beard. “These are the queen’s special unicorn-night-mare hybrids. The unicorn half is drawn to goodness, purity, and maidens. While the night mares are angry beasts trained to flame out deceptions. I suggest you not lie or you will burn at the stake,” he said, before mouthing so no one but me could hear, “Rexi.”
“Honesty is absolutely the best policy. At least until I can afford a nose job.”
—Pinocchio, Page Pix gossip column
22
The Naked Truth
Merlin knew my true identity? Maybe I’d heard him wrong. I was a bit distracted by the thought of being roasted alive.
I didn’t have time to worry about it though, because Merlin had already jumped to question number two. “Do you believe you are the narrator of your own story?”
“Yes.”
Another harmless-looking, pink flufflepuff went up in flames, sending sparks in my direction.
“Question number three: Do you think you deserve to be happy?”