Good and evil princess or witch. princess or witch

annotation

“The first kidnapping happened two hundred years ago. In some years, two boys disappeared, in others two girls, and sometimes one boy and one girl. But, if at first the choice seemed random, soon the pattern became clear. One child was always handsome and good, such as any parent would like. The other turned out to be clumsy and strange, was an outcast from birth. Such a pair of opposites was selected at a young age and disappeared to no one knows where.

This year, two best friends, Sophie and Agatha, discovered where all the missing children go: to the legendary "School of Good and Evil", where ordinary boys and girls study to become fairy-tale heroes and villains. The most beautiful girl in Gavaldon, Sophie, has dreamed all her life of being kidnapped in order to find herself in this magical world. In her pink dress, crystal slippers, and dedication to good deeds, she knew that she would get the best marks in the School of Good and graduate as a beautiful fairy princess. Whereas Agatha, in her shapeless black hoodie, with her angry cat and dislike of almost everyone, seems to fit the School of Evil perfectly.

But, when both girls found themselves in the Endless Woods, they discovered that someone had joked about their fate - Sophie was thrown into the School of Evil to study Deformities, Deadly Curses and Trained Minions, while Agatha found herself in the School of Good, among beautiful princes and maidens, in lessons on Etiquette for princesses and Communication with animals ... But what if this mistake turns out to be the first clue to unraveling who Sophie and Agatha really are?

The School for Good and Evil is an epic journey into a glorious new world where it turns out that the only way out of the fairy tale is to survive the journey.

About translation

Original name: The School for Good and Evil (The School for Good and Evil #1)

by Soman Chainani

Soman Cheynani "School of Good and Evil"

Series: The School for Good and Evil #1 / School for Good and Evil #1

Translation: Victoria Salosina, Svetlana Egoshina, Ivan Bindarovich

Editing: Victoria Salosina

Proofreading: Alexander Marukov

Number of chapters: 30

Translated as part of the project vk.com/bookish_addicted

Map

Epigraph

AT forest backwoods costs one

School Of good and Evil ...

Two towers like Twins

towering away

One for pure spirit ,

Other - anger sick sickness .

Try run away ,

And suffer fiasco

Here exit one

character become in fairy tale .

Chapter 1

Princess and Witch

Sophie dreamed all her life of being kidnapped.

But tonight, all the other children of Gavaldon writhed and writhed in their beds. If the Headmaster takes them, they won't come back. Never live to the fullest. They will never see their families again. Today these children dreamed of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast who would come after them to tear them from their sheets and drown out their screams.

Sophie dreamed of princes.

She arrived at a ball arranged in her honor, only to see a hundred suitors there and not a single girl. There were those who were worthy of it. So she thought as she walked along the lined up gentlemen. The hair is shiny and thick, the muscles shimmer under the shirt, the skin is smooth and tanned, beautiful and sensitive, as princes should be. But as soon as she approached the one that seemed to her the best: with bright blue eyes and light, blond hair, the one with whom it was felt would be "Happily Ever After" ... a hammer flew through the wall of the hall, showering the princes with fragments.

Sophie's eyes widened. The hammer was real. Princes are not.

Father, if I don't sleep for nine hours, my eyes will be swollen.

Everyone is talking about you being taken this year,” her father said as he nailed an ugly beam over her bedroom window, which was now completely obscured by bolts and pins and bolts. “They advise me to cut your hair and mud your face, as if I believe in all this fabulous nonsense. But today no one will get in here. That's for sure, - and he eloquently deafeningly struck with a hammer.

Sophie rubbed her ears and frowned at her once-wonderful window, now like a window into a witch's lair.

Locks. Why didn't anyone think of this before?

I don't know why everyone thinks it's you," he said. His silver hair was glistening with sweat. - If this guy, the School Director, needs kindness itself, then he will take Gunilda's daughter.

Sophie tensed.

The perfect child, - touched her father. - Brings homemade meals to the mill for his father. Gives the rest to the poor old hag in the square.

Sophie heard the rebuke in her father's voice. She had never cooked him a proper dinner, not even after her mother's death. Naturally, she had a good reason for this (oil and fumes can clog the pores of her skin), but she knew that this was a sore subject for him. This did not mean that her father went hungry. In return, she offered him her favorite food: beetroot puree, steamed broccoli, boiled asparagus, stewed spinach. He didn’t blow up like a balloon, unlike Belle’s father, precisely because she didn’t bring him homemade lamb fricassee and cheese soufflé to the mill. As for the old hag, the poor old woman in the square, who claimed to be starving for days on end, she was more than well fed. And, if Belle had nothing to do with it, then she could not be considered good at all, and this is the worst kind of evil.

The storyteller turned the page:
- One was beautiful and loved by all, the other was a lonely witch.
“I like your stories,” Sophie said.
"He hasn't gotten to the part where your prince hit you yet," Agatha said.
"Go home," Sophie pouted.

For starters, Soman Chainani has a wonderfully light style and humor. The latter, by the way, made a significant contribution to my sympathy for the book. I even pulled out a few quotes from the story, which I rarely do in books like this. For example, I will leave one of them:

"No one says you're evil, Agatha," Sophie sighed. - You're just different.
Agatha frowned.
- How is it different?
“Well, for starters, you only wear black.
Because black doesn't get dirty.
- You don't leave the house.
“People don’t look at me there.
For the Write a Story contest, you submitted stories that ended with Snow White being eaten by vultures and Cinderella drowning in a tub.
“I thought these were the best endings.
“You gave me a dead frog for my birthday!”
“To remind you that we all die and end up rotting underground, being eaten by worms, and therefore should enjoy our birthdays while we have them. I thought there was something to think about here.
“Agatha, you dressed up as a bride for Halloween.
“Weddings are so scary.”

As you understand, the heroines of the book also fascinated me. There are two of them here, and they are chosen just perfectly to embody the author's idea. The slightly unsociable Agatha with her gloomy appearance, black humor, rationality, habit of acting is sympathetic, and the narcissistic Sophie, obsessed with her beauty and thoughts of “happily ever after”, is even a little annoying, which fits perfectly into the context of the work.

That is why it is especially sad that at the end of the work the author completely redrawn his heroines: Sophie from infantile and stupid suddenly turns into insidious and cunning, and smart and resourceful Agatha becomes helpless and short-sighted. This is especially offensive in the light of the development of the plot, since without such a "jamb" the book would have come out almost perfect.

As for the rest of the characters, I liked them overall. The students of the school came out just the way they should be: friendly Dot, evil Esther, faithful Hort, kind Kiko, narcissistic Belatrice. The only exception is Tedras. I don't really understand what the author wanted to say with this character. This “prince” seems to be thinking about inner beauty, but at the same time he is only on the outside, first he acts like a hero, and then like ... hmm ... a male of the genus of ruminant artiodactyl mammals from the bovid family. In general, a very illogical guy. Yes, and amorous to the point of horror: then he likes one young lady, then another, then a third, and at the same time he flirts with everyone right and left. In general, the guy obviously went to his mother, although he says that he hates her kind.

As for the plot, it's interesting. On the one hand, it is straightforwardly fabulous - it is immediately clear how the matter will end, who will be the princess, whose prince will be, etc. On the other hand, the elaboration of details and events within the framework of the main plot is quite original. So it's interesting to read.

And what confused me was the slightly strange ending in the style of "the author got a little carried away." And it brought him, in my opinion, beyond the bounds of friendship. Although maybe this is such a plot move that everyone will certainly read the sequel, who knows?

Outcome: A wonderful story that all lovers of children's literature should read. I'm sure you'll like it.

Soman Cheynani

School of Good and Evil

princess and witch

Sophie dreamed all her life of being kidnapped.

But tonight, all the other children of Gavaldon writhed and writhed in their beds. If the Headmaster takes them, they won't come back. Never live to the fullest. They will never see their families again. Today these children dreamed of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast who would come after them to tear them from their sheets and drown out their screams.

Sophie dreamed of princes.

She arrived at a ball arranged in her honor, only to see a hundred suitors there and not a single girl. There were those who were worthy of it. So she thought as she walked along the lined up gentlemen. The hair is shiny and thick, the muscles shimmer under the shirt, the skin is smooth and tanned, beautiful and sensitive, as princes should be. But as soon as she approached the one that seemed to her the best: with bright blue eyes and light, blond hair, the one with whom it was felt would be “Happily Ever After” ... a hammer flew through the wall of the hall, showering the princes with fragments.

Sophie's eyes widened. The hammer was real. Princes are not.

Father, if I don't sleep for nine hours, my eyes will be swollen.

Everyone is talking about you being taken this year,” her father said as he nailed an ugly beam over her bedroom window, which was now completely obscured by bolts and pins and bolts. “They advise me to cut your hair and mud your face, as if I believe in all this fabulous nonsense. But today no one will get in here. That's for sure, - and he eloquently deafeningly struck with a hammer.

Sophie rubbed her ears and frowned at her once-wonderful window, now like a window into a witch's lair.

Locks. Why didn't anyone think of this before?

I don't know why everyone thinks it's you," he said. His silver hair was glistening with sweat. - If this guy, the School Director, needs kindness itself, then he will take Gunilda's daughter.

Sophie tensed.

The perfect child, - touched her father. - Brings homemade meals to the mill for his father. Gives the rest to the poor old hag in the square.

Sophie heard the rebuke in her father's voice. She had never cooked him a proper dinner, not even after her mother's death. Naturally, she had a good reason for this (oil and fumes can clog the pores of her skin), but she knew that this was a sore subject for him. This did not mean that her father went hungry. In return, she offered him her favorite food: beetroot puree, steamed broccoli, boiled asparagus, stewed spinach. He didn’t blow up like a balloon, unlike Belle’s father, precisely because she didn’t bring him homemade lamb fricassee and cheese soufflé to the mill. As for the old hag, the poor old woman in the square, who claimed to be starving for days on end, she was more than well fed. And, if Belle had nothing to do with it, then she could not be considered good at all, and this is the worst kind of evil.

Sophie smiled back at her father.

Well, like you said, it's all nonsense. She slid off the bed and slammed the bathroom door.

She examined her face in the mirror. The unceremonious awakening had an effect. Waist-long hair, the color of golden threads, did not have the usual sheen. Her yellowish-green eyes looked faded, and her rich red lips felt dry to the touch. Even the radiance of her creamy peach skin had faded. "But still a princess" she thought. Her father did not see that she was special, but not her mother.

You are too beautiful for this world, Sophie, she said with her last breath. Her mother had gone to the best of all worlds, and that's where she should be now.

Tonight they will take her to the forest. Today she starts a new life. Today she will begin life in a fairy tale.

And now we need to get down to business.

To begin with, she rubbed fish caviar into her skin, which stank of dirty feet. Then she massaged herself with pumpkin puree, washed it all off with goat's milk, and applied a mask of melon and turtle egg yolk to her face. While Sophie waited for the mask to dry, she leafed through fairy tales and sipped on cucumber juice, which kept her skin hydrated. She scrolled down to her favorite part, where the witch is rolling down the hill in a barrel with nails driven into it. All that was left of the witch was a bracelet made from the bones of little boys. Looking at the terrible decoration, Sophie felt her thoughts flow smoothly to the cucumbers. Suppose there are no cucumbers in the forest? Let's say the other princesses have run out of supplies? No cucumbers! She will dry up, begin to fade, she ...

A dry piece of melon fell onto the page. She turned to the mirror and saw that her forehead was wrinkled with worry. First woke up, now wrinkles. At this rate, she'll turn into an old hag by dinnertime. She relaxed her face and pushed the thoughts of vegetables away.

As for the rest of Sophie's beauty routine, it could be anything she gleaned from a dozen storybooks (suffice it to say that this included goose feathers, pickled potatoes, horse hooves, cashew cream, and bubbles of cow's blood). After two hours of meticulous grooming, she left the house in a light pink dress, sparkling crystal shoes, and an impeccably braided braid. She only had one day left before the Headmaster showed up, and she was going to use every moment to remind him why she, and not Belle or Tabitha or Sabrina or some other impostor, should be kidnapped.

Sophie's best friend lived in a cemetery. Given her hatred of anything gloomy, gray, or poorly lit, one would expect her to visit Sophie's house, or Sophie finds herself a new best friend. But instead, every day this week, carefully, so as not to lose her smile, she climbed the Grave Hill, which stood at its very top, because it was, after all, a good deed.

To get there, she had to walk about a mile from the colorful lakeside cottages, with green eaves and sun-drenched turret-roofs, straight to the edge of the gloomy forest. When she passed by, an echo from the knock of hammers reached her - it was the fathers nailing up the doors, and the mothers stuffing stuffed animals, the boys and girls, each hunched over on their porch, went headlong into fairy tales. There was nothing unusual about the last picture that came out, because children in Gavaldon don't read much besides fairy tales. But today, Sophie noticed that their eyes were numb and frantically skimming through every page, as if their lives depended on it. Four years ago, she had seen exactly the same desperation with which they were looking for ways to escape the curse, but then it had nothing to do with her. The school principal took away only those who had already passed twelve and they no longer seemed like children.

Now it's her turn.

As Sophie climbed Grave Hill, picnic basket in hand, she felt her thighs burn. Haven't the hips become thicker from these lifts? All princesses in fairy tales had the same ideal proportions; thick thighs - as unlikely as a hooked nose or large feet. Feeling uneasy, Sophie decided to distract herself by listing the good deeds she had done the day before. First, she fed the lake geese a mixture of lentils and leeks (a natural laxative to make up for the cheese thrown by the dim-witted kids). Then, she donated homemade lemon soap to the city's orphanage (for, as she insisted, handing it over to the bewildered philanthropist: "Proper skin care is the greatest feat"). Finally, she hung a mirror in the church toilet so that people could return to the pews looking their best. Isn't that enough? Is it possible to compare homemade cakes and feeding a homeless witch with them? Her thoughts shifted nervously to cucumbers. She might be able to hide her personal food supplies in the woods. She still had plenty of time to get ready before nightfall. But cucumbers are not heavy? Maybe send a school footman for them? Maybe she should make juice out of them before she...

Where are you going?

Sophie turned around. Pale red-haired Radley was smiling with all his jutting teeth. He lived I don't understand where, not far from Grave Hill, but he got into the habit of following her all day long.

Current page: 1 (total book has 23 pages)

Abstract

The first abduction happened two hundred years ago. In some years, two boys disappeared, in others two girls, and sometimes one boy and one girl. But, if at first the choice seemed random, soon the pattern became clear. One child was always handsome and good, this was what any parents wanted. The other turned out to be clumsy and strange, was an outcast from birth. Such a pair of opposites was selected at a young age and disappeared to no one knows where.

This year, two best friends, Sophie and Agatha, discovered where all the missing children go: to the legendary "School of Good and Evil", where ordinary boys and girls study to become fairy-tale heroes and villains. The most beautiful girl in Gavaldon, Sophie, has dreamed all her life of being kidnapped in order to find herself in this magical world. In her pink dress, crystal slippers, and dedication to good deeds, she knew that she would get the best marks in the School of Good and graduate as a beautiful fairy princess. While Agatha, in her shapeless black hoodie, with an angry cat and dislike for almost everyone, seems to be a perfect fit for the School of Evil.

annotation

“The first kidnapping happened two hundred years ago. In some years, two boys disappeared, in others two girls, and sometimes one boy and one girl. But, if at first the choice seemed random, soon the pattern became clear. One child was always handsome and good, such as any parent would like. The other turned out to be clumsy and strange, was an outcast from birth. Such a pair of opposites was selected at a young age and disappeared to no one knows where.

This year, two best friends, Sophie and Agatha, discovered where all the missing children go: to the legendary "School of Good and Evil", where ordinary boys and girls study to become fairy-tale heroes and villains. The most beautiful girl in Gavaldon, Sophie, has dreamed all her life of being kidnapped in order to find herself in this magical world. In her pink dress, crystal slippers, and dedication to good deeds, she knew that she would get the best marks in the School of Good and graduate as a beautiful fairy princess. Whereas Agatha, in her shapeless black hoodie, with her angry cat and dislike of almost everyone, seems to fit the School of Evil perfectly.

But, when both girls found themselves in the Endless Woods, they discovered that someone had joked about their fate - Sophie was thrown into the School of Evil to study Deformities, Deadly Curses and Trained Minions, while Agatha found herself in the School of Good, among beautiful princes and maidens, in lessons on Etiquette for princesses and Communication with animals ... But what if this mistake turns out to be the first clue to unraveling who Sophie and Agatha really are?

The School for Good and Evil is an epic journey into a glorious new world where it turns out that the only way out of the fairy tale is to survive the journey.

About translation

Original name: The School for Good and Evil (The School for Good and Evil #1)

by Soman Chainani

Soman Cheynani "School of Good and Evil"

Series: The School for Good and Evil #1 / School for Good and Evil #1

Translation: Victoria Salosina, Svetlana Egoshina, Ivan Bindarovich

Editing: Victoria Salosina

Proofreading: Alexander Marukov

Number of chapters: 30

Translated as part of the project vk.com/bookish_addicted

Map

Epigraph

AT forest backwoods costs one

School Of good and Evil ...

Two towers like Twins

towering away

One for pure spirit ,

Other - anger sick sickness .

Try run away ,

And suffer fiasco

Here exit one

character become in fairy tale .

Chapter 1

Princess and Witch

Sophie dreamed all her life of being kidnapped.

But tonight, all the other children of Gavaldon writhed and writhed in their beds. If the Headmaster takes them, they won't come back. Never live to the fullest. They will never see their families again. Today these children dreamed of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast who would come after them to tear them from their sheets and drown out their screams.

Sophie dreamed of princes.

She arrived at a ball arranged in her honor, only to see a hundred suitors there and not a single girl. There were those who were worthy of it. So she thought as she walked along the lined up gentlemen. The hair is shiny and thick, the muscles shimmer under the shirt, the skin is smooth and tanned, beautiful and sensitive, as princes should be. But as soon as she approached the one that seemed to her the best: with bright blue eyes and light, blond hair, the one with whom it was felt would be "Happily Ever After" ... a hammer flew through the wall of the hall, showering the princes with fragments.

Sophie's eyes widened. The hammer was real. Princes are not.

“Father, if I don’t sleep for nine hours, my eyes will be swollen.

“Everyone is talking about you being taken this year,” her father said as he nailed an ugly beam over her bedroom window, which was now completely obscured by bolts and pins and bolts. “They advise me to cut your hair and mud your face, as if I believe in all this fabulous nonsense. But today no one will get in here. That's for sure, - and he eloquently deafeningly struck with a hammer.

Sophie rubbed her ears and frowned at her once-wonderful window, now like a window into a witch's lair.

- Locks. Why didn't anyone think of this before?

“I don't know why everyone thinks it's you,” he said. His silver hair was glistening with sweat. “If this guy, the Headmaster, needs kindness itself, then he will take Gunilda's daughter.

Sophie tensed.

“Perfect child,” her father said with tenderness. Brings home-cooked meals to the mill for his father. Gives the rest to the poor old hag in the square.

Sophie heard the rebuke in her father's voice. She had never cooked him a proper dinner, not even after her mother's death. Naturally, she had a good reason for this (oil and fumes can clog the pores of her skin), but she knew that this was a sore subject for him. This did not mean that her father went hungry. In return, she offered him her favorite food: beetroot puree, steamed broccoli, boiled asparagus, stewed spinach. He didn’t blow up like a balloon, unlike Belle’s father, precisely because she didn’t bring him homemade lamb fricassee and cheese soufflé to the mill. As for the old hag, the poor old woman in the square, who claimed to be starving for days on end, she was more than well fed. And, if Belle had nothing to do with it, then she could not be considered good at all, and this is the worst kind of evil.

Sophie smiled back at her father.

Well, like you said, it's all nonsense. She slid off the bed and slammed the bathroom door.

She examined her face in the mirror. The unceremonious awakening had an effect. Waist-long hair, the color of golden threads, did not have the usual sheen. Her yellowish-green eyes looked faded, and her rich red lips felt dry to the touch. Even the radiance of her creamy peach skin had faded. « But all equals Princess » she thought. Her father did not see that she was special, but not her mother.

“You are too beautiful for this world, Sophie,” she said with her last breath. Her mother had gone to the best of all worlds, and that's where she should be now.

Tonight they will take her to the forest. Today she starts a new life. Today she will begin life in a fairy tale.

And now we need to get down to business.

To begin with, she rubbed fish caviar into her skin, which stank of dirty feet. Then she massaged herself with pumpkin puree, washed it all off with goat's milk, and applied a mask of melon and turtle egg yolk to her face. While Sophie waited for the mask to dry, she leafed through fairy tales and sipped on cucumber juice, which kept her skin hydrated. She scrolled down to her favorite part, where the witch is rolling down the hill in a barrel with nails driven into it. All that was left of the witch was a bracelet made from the bones of little boys. Looking at the terrible decoration, Sophie felt her thoughts flow smoothly to the cucumbers. Suppose there are no cucumbers in the forest? Let's say the other princesses have run out of supplies? No cucumbers! She will wither, she will begin to fade, she...

A dry piece of melon fell onto the page. She turned to the mirror and saw that her forehead was wrinkled with worry. First woke up, now wrinkles. At this rate, she'll turn into an old hag by dinnertime. She relaxed her face and pushed the thoughts of vegetables away.

As for the rest of Sophie's beauty routine, it could be anything she gleaned from a dozen storybooks (suffice it to say that this included goose feathers, pickled potatoes, horse hooves, cashew cream, and bubbles of cow's blood). After two hours of meticulous grooming, she left the house in a light pink dress, sparkling crystal shoes, and an impeccably braided braid. She only had one day left before the Headmaster showed up, and she was going to use every moment to remind him why she, and not Belle or Tabitha or Sabrina or some other impostor, should be kidnapped.

Sophie's best friend lived in a cemetery. Given her hatred of anything gloomy, gray, or poorly lit, one would expect her to visit Sophie's house, or Sophie finds herself a new best friend. But instead, every day this week, carefully, so as not to lose her smile, she climbed the Grave Hill, which stood at its very top, because it was, after all, a good deed.

To get there, she had to walk about a mile from the colorful lakeside cottages, with green eaves and sun-drenched turret-roofs, straight to the edge of the gloomy forest. As she walked by, she heard the echo of the knocking of hammers - it was the fathers nailing up the doors, and the mothers stuffing stuffed animals, the boys and girls, each hunched over on their porch, went headlong into fairy tales. There was nothing unusual about the last picture that came out, because children in Gavaldon don't read much besides fairy tales. But today, Sophie noticed that their eyes were numb and frantically skimming through every page, as if their lives depended on it. Four years ago, she had seen exactly the same desperation with which they were looking for ways to escape the curse, but then it had nothing to do with her. The school principal took away only those who had already passed twelve and they no longer seemed like children.

Now it's her turn.

As Sophie climbed Grave Hill, picnic basket in hand, she felt her thighs burn. Haven't the hips become thicker from these lifts? All princesses in fairy tales had the same ideal proportions; thick thighs are as unlikely as a hooked nose or large feet. Feeling uneasy, Sophie decided to distract herself by listing the good deeds she had done the day before. First, she fed the lake geese a mixture of lentils and leeks (a natural laxative to make up for the cheese thrown by the dim-witted kids). Then, she donated homemade lemon soap to the city's orphanage (for, as she insisted when handing it over to the bewildered philanthropist, "Proper skin care is the greatest feat"). Finally, she hung a mirror in the church toilet so that people could return to the pews looking their best. Isn't that enough? Is it possible to compare homemade cakes and feeding a homeless witch with them? Her thoughts shifted nervously to cucumbers. She might be able to hide her personal food supplies in the woods. She still had plenty of time to get ready before nightfall. But cucumbers are not heavy? Maybe send a school footman after them? Maybe she should make juice out of them before she...

- Where are you going?

Sophie turned around. Pale red-haired Radley was smiling with all his jutting teeth. He lived I don't understand where, not far from Grave Hill, but he got into the habit of following her all day long.

“To see a friend,” Sophie said.

"Why are you friends with a witch?" Radley asked.

- She's not a witch.

She has no friends and she is ugly. Which automatically makes her a witch.

Sophie refrained from pointing out that Radley was facing a similar fate. Instead, she smiled to remind him that she was already doing a good deed by enduring his presence.

“The school principal will take her to the School of Evil,” he said. "And then you'll need a new friend."

“He's taking two kids,” Sophie said through clenched teeth.

“The other will be Belle. There is no one as good as Belle.

Sophie's smile faded.

“But I'll be your new friend,” Radley said.

“At the moment, I have a lot of friends,” Sophie snapped.

Radley turned raspberry.

– Oh, well, yeah... I just thought...

He ran away like a beaten dog.

Sophie watched his tousled hair go down the hill. « Well , what same you done » she thought. A month of good deeds and forced smiles, and now it's all down the drain because of Radley. Why not make him happy? Why couldn't you just answer:

“I would be honored to have such a friend!”

And give him an idiotic moment that he would remember for years? She knew it would be the smart thing to do, because the Headmaster would probably judge her almost like Saint Nicholas the night before Christmas. But she couldn't let that happen. She was beautiful, Radley was ugly. Only a villain will deceive him. Of course, the School Director will understand everything.

Sophie pushed open the rusty graveyard gate and felt the weeds scratch at her feet. She walked up a hill with mildew-covered tombstones protruding erratically from a dune of dead leaves. Squeezing between dark graves and rotten branches, Sophie carefully counted rows. She had never looked at her mother's grave, not even at a funeral, and she wasn't going to look today. As she passed the sixth row, the girl stared at the weeping willow and reminded herself where she would be tomorrow.

In the middle of a pile of graves stood Grave Hill 1. The house was not boarded up or bolted like the lakeside cottages, but that didn't make it any more attractive. The steps leading up to the porch glowed with green mold. Dead birches and vines squeezed between the dark wood, and the roof, at a sharp angle, black and thin, hung down like a witch's hat.

As she climbed the groaning steps, Sophie tried to ignore the smell, a mixture of garlic and wet cat, and not look at the headless birds that littered the area, no doubt victims of the latter.

She knocked on the door and prepared for a fight.

“Is that what they say to their best friend,” Sophie sang out.

“You are not my best friend.

- Who then? Sophie asked, wondering if Belle had somehow made her way up her path to Sepulcher Hill.

- None of your business.

Sophie took a deep breath. She didn't want another incident like with Radley.

“Agatha, we had such a good time yesterday. I thought we'd do it again today.

You dyed my hair orange.

But we fixed everything, didn't we?

“You always test your ointments and elixirs on me to see how they work.

“But isn’t that what friends are for?” Sophie asked. To help each other?

“I will never be as cute as you.

Sophie tried to find some nice words, but she dragged on too long and heard footsteps stomping away.

This doesn't mean we can't be friends! Sophie retorted.

A familiar cat, bald and shriveled, hissed at her from the porch. She started pounding on the door again.

I brought biscuits!

The footsteps were silent.

Are they real or did you bake it yourself?

Sophie backed away from the creeping cat.

– Airy and oily, just the way you like it!

The cat hissed.

“Agatha, let me in…”

You will say that I stink.

- You don't stink.

"Then why did you say that the last time?"

“Because the last time you smelled!” Agatha, cat vomit...

“Maybe he sniffed out ulterior motives.

The cat bared its claws.

- Agatha, open the door!

The cat pounced on her, aiming straight at her face. Sophie screamed. A hand appeared between them, knocking the cat down with a blow.

Sophie raised her eyes.

“The reaper has wiped out all the birds,” said Agatha.

The hideous dome of her hair looked like it had been coated with oil. Her hulking black dress, shapeless as a potato sack, could not hide her strangely pale skin and protruding bones. The ladybug's eyes were bulging in her sunken face.

“I thought we were going for a walk,” Sophie said.

Agatha leaned against the door.

“I still don’t understand, why are you friends with me?”

“Because you're cute and funny,” Sophie replied.

“My mom says I'm blunt and a curmudgeon,” Agatha said. So one of you is lying.

She reached over to Sophia's basket, and pulled back the napkin to reveal dry biscuits with no bran and no butter underneath. Agatha gave Sophie a withering look and retreated into the house.

"Well, can we go for a walk?" Sophie asked.

Agatha started to close the door, but then she saw her sad face. As if Sophie was all in anticipation of their upcoming walk.

- But fast. Agatha walked past her. “But if you blurt out something smug or arrogant or petty, I will let the Reaper out of the house after you.”

Sophie ran after her.

“But then I won’t be able to talk!”

Four years later, the terrible eleventh night of the eleventh month came. At the end of a sunny day, the square is in full swing with preparations for the arrival of the School Director. The men sharpened their swords, set their traps, and set up night watchmen, while the women lined up the children and worked hard on them. The beauties had their hair cut off, their teeth blackened, and their clothes torn to tatters; the plain-looking ones are washed to a shine, wrapped in bright colors and covered with a veil. Mothers begged their diligent ones to swear or beat their sisters, the worst ones were bribed to pray in the church, while the rest sang the village hymn: "Blessed be Ordinary."

Fear has become a contagious disease. In a dim alley, a butcher and a blacksmith traded storybooks for clues on how to save their sons. Beneath the rickety clock tower, two sisters listed the names of fairy tale villains in search of prototypes. A group of boys chained themselves to each other, and a few girls hid under the school roof; a child in a mask jumped out from behind the bushes to scare his mother, for which he immediately grabbed the cuff. Even the homeless hag came to life, jumping in front of the meager fire, croaking:

- Burn the stories! Burn them all!

But no one listened and no books were burned.

Agatha stared, not believing her ears.

“But how does the whole city believe in these fairy tales?”

Because they are real.

Agatha stopped.

“You can’t really believe that the legend is true.

“Of course I do,” Sophie replied.

- That the School Director kidnaps two children, takes them to a school where one is taught Good, the other Evil, and they end up in fairy tales?

- Exactly.

Tell me if you see a stove.

- Why?

“I want to put my head in there. And what exactly, pray tell, is taught in this school?

“Well, the School for Kindness teaches boys and girls like me, how to become heroes and princesses, how to rule kingdoms fairly, and how to find your Happily Ever After,” Sophie explained. – In the School of Evil, you will be taught how to turn into evil witches and hunchbacked trolls, how to cast curses and weave evil spells.

- Evil charms? Agatha giggled. - Who thought of this before? Four year old?

“Agatha, the evidence is in fairy tale books!” Missing kids in pictures! Jack, Rose, Rapunzel - they all have their own fairy tales...

- Nothing I not see, because not I read stupid stories.

“Then why do you have a stack of books next to your bed?” Sophie asked.

Agatha furrowed her brows.

“Listen, who even said that the books are real?” Maybe it's the work of the booksellers. Maybe the Elders are scaring us away from the forest. Whatever the explanation, it's not the School Principal and it's not an evil spell.

- So who steals children?

- Yes, no one. Every four years, two idiots go wandering into the woods, hoping to scare their parents, only to get lost or fall prey to wolves, and, as they say, the legend lives on.

This is the most stupid explanation I have ever heard.

“I don’t think I’m here Stupid,” Agatha retorted.

Something about being called a fool made Sophie's blood boil.

“You're just scared,” she said.

“Well, yes,” Agatha laughed. "And why would I be scared?"

“Because you know you will go with me.”

Agatha stopped laughing. And then her eyes flickered past Sophie to the square. The villagers looked at them as if they were the perfect solution to a riddle. Good is in pink, Evil is in black. The perfect match for the School Principal.

Still frozen, Agatha watched as dozens of frightened eyes bored into her. Her first thought was that the day after tomorrow she and Sophie would be at peace and enjoy their walks. Beside her, Sophie watched as the children memorized her face in case it appeared one day in the pages of a fairy tale. Her first thought was if they looked at Belle the same way.

And then, in the crowd, she saw her.

Shaved head, dirty dress, Belle knelt in the mud, feverishly soiling her face. Sophie sniffed the air. Belle was like everyone else. She wanted to marry a man who would grow fat, lazy, and picky. She wanted monotonous everyday life for cooking, cleaning, sewing. She wanted to dig through the dung and milk the sheep and kill the squealing pigs. She wanted to rot in Gavaldon until her skin turned brown and her teeth fell out. The school principal will never take Belle away because she is not a princess. She is... nothing.

Victory, Sophie beamed again at the sight of the miserable villagers and enjoyed their glances like shining reflections...

“Come on,” said Agatha.

Sophie turned around. Agatha's eyes were glued to the crowd of people.

As the sun waned to a red ball, two girls, one beautiful, the other ugly, were sitting side by side on the shore of the lake. Sophie wrapped the cucumbers in a silk bag while Agatha struck a match and put it out in the water. After ten matches, Sophie glared at her.

“It relaxes me,” Agatha said.

Sophie tried to squeeze in the last cucumber.

Why would someone like Belle want to stay? Who would choose this is instead of a fairy tale

And who willingly decides to leave his family forever and ever ? snorted Agatha.

“Except for me, you mean,” Sophie said.

They fell silent.

Have you ever wondered where your father went? Sophie asked.

“I told you, he left right after I was born.

"But where did he go?" We are surrounded by forest! And here is such an unexpected disappearance ... - Sophie turned. “Maybe he found his way into a fairy tale!” Maybe he found a magical portal! Maybe he's waiting for you on the other side!

“Maybe he went back to his wife pretending I never existed and died ten years later in a mill in an accident.

Sophie bit her lip and continued to work on the cucumbers.

Your mother is never at home when I visit.

“She's in town now,” Agatha said. There are few patients near the house. It's probably in the wrong place.

“I'm sure it is,” Sophie said, knowing that no one would trust Agatha's mother to treat diaper rash, let alone illness. - I think the sight of the cemetery makes people a little uncomfortable.

“Cemeteries have their advantages,” said Agatha. - No curious neighbors, salesmen. No questionable "girlfriends" wearing masks and eating cookies, telling you that you're going to the Wicked School in Fairyland.

She struck a match with delight.

Sophie put down her cucumber.

So now I'm doubtful.

“Who asked you to show yourself to me?” It was great for me as well.

“You always let me in.

“Because you always seem so lonely,” Agatha said. “And I feel sorry for you.

– You are experiencing to to me a pity?! Sophie's eyes sparkled. “You’re lucky that anyone comes to visit you when no one else wants to.” You're lucky that someone like me is going to be your friend. You're lucky that this someone is good human !

- I knew it! Agatha exploded. “I am your Good Deed!” Just a pawn in your stupid fantasy!

Sophie didn't say anything for a long time.

“Well, maybe I became your friend to impress the Headmaster,” she finally admitted. “But now it's not quite like that.

“Because I led you to clean water,” Agatha grumbled.

- Because I like you.

Agatha turned to her.

“Now, no one understands me here,” Sophie said, looking down at her hands. - No one but you. You understand who I am. That's why I keep coming. Agatha, you're no longer a good deed.

Sophie looked up at her.

- You are my friend.

Agatha's neck blushed.

- What's wrong? Sophie frowned.

Agatha slouched into her dress.

"It's just... um... I... um... haven't had any girlfriends before."

Sophie smiled and took her hand.

Well, now we'll be friends at our new school.

Agatha groaned and pulled away.

“Let's say I stooped down to your level of intelligence and pretended to believe it all. Why would I go to the school of villainy? Why would everyone choose me as the Mistress of Evil?

“No one says you're evil, Agatha.” Sophie sighed. - You're just different.

Agatha frowned.

– How this is another?

“Well, for starters, you only wear black.

Because black doesn't get dirty.

- You don't leave the house.

“People don’t look at me there.

– For the “Write a Story” contest, you submitted fairy tales that end with Snow White being eaten by vultures and Cinderella drowning in a tub.

“I thought it was the best ending.

“For my birthday, you gave me a dead frog!”

“To remind you that we will all die and end up rotting underground, being eaten by worms, and therefore should enjoy our birthdays while we have them. I thought there was something to think about here.

- Agatha, for Halloween you dressed like bride.

“Weddings are so scary.

Sophie stared at her in amazement.

- Okay. So I'm a little different, different from the others, - Agatha flashed her eyes. - So what?

Sophie hesitated.

- Well, it's just in fairy tales, in fairy tales, being different from others turns, hmm ... in evil.

“You say I'm going to turn into the Great Witch,” Agatha said offendedly.

“I told you, no matter what happens, you have a choice,” Sophie said softly. “We can both choose how our fairy tales end.

Agatha was silent for a moment. And then she touched Sophie's arm.

Why do you want to leave this place so badly? Because you believe in fairy tales even though you know they're lies?

Sophie met Agatha's big sincere eyes. And for the first time, she allowed herself to doubt.

“Because I can't live here,” Sophie said, her voice halting. “I can't live a normal life.

“Funny,” said Agatha. “That's why I like you.

Sophie smiled.

“Because, like me, you can’t live a normal life?”

“Because you make me feel ordinary,” Agatha replied. “And that's all I ever wanted.

The clock in the belfry sang darkly in tenor for six or seven o'clock, for they had lost track of time. And when the echo disappeared into the bustle of the square somewhere far away, both Sophie and Agatha made a wish that tomorrow they would still be together.

Wherever they are.

Chapter 2

Art Abductions

By the time the sun went out, the children had been locked up for a long time. Through the closed shutters, they looked at their fathers, sisters, grandmothers armed with torches, lined up around the dark forest, bravely, cutting off the path of the School Director, taking him into a fiery ring.

But as the trembling children boarded up the windows harder, Sophie prepared to free her window. She wanted to be kidnapped with maximum comfort. Having barricaded herself in the room, she laid out hairpins, invisibles, hairpins, nail files and set to work.

The first abduction happened two hundred years ago. For a while, two boys were kidnapped, then two girls, and sometimes a boy and a girl. The ages of the abductees also varied: some might have been sixteen, others fourteen, or both had just turned twelve. But, if at first the choice seemed random, then soon the scheme became extremely clear. One child was always handsome and diligent. This is what every parent would like to have. The other is clumsy and strange, having become an outcast from birth. A pair of opposites, selected from the youths and taken away in an unknown direction.

Naturally, the villagers blamed the bears for everything. No one, however, saw a single bear in Gavaldon, but this only made them more persistent in their search for them. Four years later, when a couple more children disappeared, the peasants admitted that the explanations needed to be more specific and blamed black bears, because they are so black that they are not visible at night. But as the children continued to disappear every four years, the villagers turned their attention to burrowing bears, and then to ghost bears, and then to bears in disguise ... until it became clear that bears had nothing to do with it at all.

But while the mad peasants were building more and more new theories (“The theory of the funnel”, about the “Flying cannibal”), the children of Gavaldon began to notice something suspicious. As they studied the dozens of missing posters pinned up in the square, the faces of the boys and girls on them looked oddly familiar. It was then that they opened their fairy tale books and found the kidnapped children in them.

Jack, stolen a hundred years earlier, hasn't aged a bit. Here he is, drawn with the same shaggy mane of hair, dimples, and wry smile that made him so popular among the girls of Gavaldon. Only now he had a beanstalk in the back of his garden, and he himself had a weakness for magic beans. Meanwhile, Agnus, the freckled, pointy-eared bully who disappeared that same year with Jack, turned into a freckled, pointy-eared giant, arrived at the very top of the beanstalk. Two boys have found their way into a fairy tale. But when the children presented their Fairy Tale Theory to adults, they responded in the same way that most adults usually do. They stroked the children's heads and returned to theories about funnels and cannibals.

princess and witch

Sophie dreamed all her life of being kidnapped.

But tonight, all the other children of Gavaldon writhed and writhed in their beds. If the Headmaster takes them, they won't come back. Never live to the fullest. They will never see their families again. Today these children dreamed of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast who would come after them to tear them from their sheets and drown out their screams.

Sophie dreamed of princes.

She arrived at a ball arranged in her honor, only to see a hundred suitors there and not a single girl. There were those who were worthy of it. So she thought as she walked along the lined up gentlemen. The hair is shiny and thick, the muscles shimmer under the shirt, the skin is smooth and tanned, beautiful and sensitive, as princes should be. But as soon as she approached the one that seemed to her the best: with bright blue eyes and light, blond hair, the one with whom it was felt would be “Happily Ever After” ... a hammer flew through the wall of the hall, showering the princes with fragments.

Sophie's eyes widened. The hammer was real. Princes are not.

Father, if I don't sleep for nine hours, my eyes will be swollen.

Everyone is talking about you being taken this year,” her father said as he nailed an ugly beam over her bedroom window, which was now completely obscured by bolts and pins and bolts. “They advise me to cut your hair and mud your face, as if I believe in all this fabulous nonsense. But today no one will get in here. That's for sure, - and he eloquently deafeningly struck with a hammer.

Sophie rubbed her ears and frowned at her once-wonderful window, now like a window into a witch's lair.

Locks. Why didn't anyone think of this before?

I don't know why everyone thinks it's you," he said. His silver hair was glistening with sweat. - If this guy, the School Director, needs kindness itself, then he will take Gunilda's daughter.

Sophie tensed.

The perfect child, - touched her father. - Brings homemade meals to the mill for his father. Gives the rest to the poor old hag in the square.

Sophie heard the rebuke in her father's voice. She had never cooked him a proper dinner, not even after her mother's death. Naturally, she had a good reason for this (oil and fumes can clog the pores of her skin), but she knew that this was a sore subject for him. This did not mean that her father went hungry. In return, she offered him her favorite food: beetroot puree, steamed broccoli, boiled asparagus, stewed spinach. He didn’t blow up like a balloon, unlike Belle’s father, precisely because she didn’t bring him homemade lamb fricassee and cheese soufflé to the mill. As for the old hag, the poor old woman in the square, who claimed to be starving for days on end, she was more than well fed. And, if Belle had nothing to do with it, then she could not be considered good at all, and this is the worst kind of evil.

Sophie smiled back at her father.

Well, like you said, it's all nonsense. She slid off the bed and slammed the bathroom door.

She examined her face in the mirror. The unceremonious awakening had an effect. Waist-long hair, the color of golden threads, did not have the usual sheen. Her yellowish-green eyes looked faded, and her rich red lips felt dry to the touch. Even the radiance of her creamy peach skin had faded. “But still a princess,” she thought. Her father did not see that she was special, but not her mother.

You are too beautiful for this world, Sophie, she said with her last breath. Her mother had gone to the best of all worlds, and that's where she should be now.

Tonight they will take her to the forest. Today she starts a new life. Today she will begin life in a fairy tale.

And now we need to get down to business.

To begin with, she rubbed fish caviar into her skin, which stank of dirty feet. Then she massaged herself with pumpkin puree, washed it all off with goat's milk, and applied a mask of melon and turtle egg yolk to her face. While Sophie waited for the mask to dry, she leafed through fairy tales and sipped on cucumber juice, which kept her skin hydrated. She scrolled down to her favorite part, where the witch is rolling down the hill in a barrel with nails driven into it. All that was left of the witch was a bracelet made from the bones of little boys. Looking at the terrible decoration, Sophie felt her thoughts flow smoothly to the cucumbers. Suppose there are no cucumbers in the forest? Let's say the other princesses have run out of supplies? No cucumbers! She will dry up, begin to fade, she ...

A dry piece of melon fell onto the page. She turned to the mirror and saw that her forehead was wrinkled with worry. First woke up, now wrinkles. At this rate, she'll turn into an old hag by dinnertime. She relaxed her face and pushed the thoughts of vegetables away.

As for the rest of Sophie's beauty routine, it could be anything she gleaned from a dozen storybooks (suffice it to say that this included goose feathers, pickled potatoes, horse hooves, cashew cream, and bubbles of cow's blood). After two hours of meticulous grooming, she left the house in a light pink dress, sparkling crystal shoes, and an impeccably braided braid. She only had one day left before the Headmaster showed up, and she was going to use every moment to remind him why she, and not Belle or Tabitha or Sabrina or some other impostor, should be kidnapped.

Sophie's best friend lived in a cemetery. Given her hatred of anything gloomy, gray, or poorly lit, one would expect her to visit Sophie's house, or Sophie finds herself a new best friend. But instead, every day this week, carefully, so as not to lose her smile, she climbed the Grave Hill, which stood at its very top, because it was, after all, a good deed.

To get there, she had to walk about a mile from the colorful lakeside cottages, with green eaves and sun-drenched turret-roofs, straight to the edge of the gloomy forest. When she passed by, an echo from the knock of hammers reached her - it was the fathers nailing up the doors, and the mothers stuffing stuffed animals, the boys and girls, each hunched over on their porch, went headlong into fairy tales. There was nothing unusual about the last picture that came out, because children in Gavaldon don't read much besides fairy tales. But today, Sophie noticed that their eyes were numb and frantically skimming through every page, as if their lives depended on it. Four years ago, she had seen exactly the same desperation with which they were looking for ways to escape the curse, but then it had nothing to do with her. The school principal took away only those who had already passed twelve and they no longer seemed like children.

Now it's her turn.

As Sophie climbed Grave Hill, picnic basket in hand, she felt her thighs burn. Haven't the hips become thicker from these lifts? All princesses in fairy tales had the same ideal proportions; thick thighs - as unlikely as a hooked nose or large feet. Feeling uneasy, Sophie decided to distract herself by listing the good deeds she had done the day before. First, she fed the lake geese a mixture of lentils and leeks (a natural laxative to make up for the cheese thrown by the dim-witted kids). Then, she donated homemade lemon soap to the city's orphanage (for, as she insisted, handing it over to the bewildered philanthropist: "Proper skin care is the greatest feat"). Finally, she hung a mirror in the church toilet so that people could return to the pews looking their best. Isn't that enough? Is it possible to compare homemade cakes and feeding a homeless witch with them? Her thoughts shifted nervously to cucumbers. She might be able to hide her personal food supplies in the woods. She still had plenty of time to get ready before nightfall. But cucumbers are not heavy? Maybe send a school footman for them? Maybe she should make juice out of them before she...

Where are you going?

Sophie turned around. Pale red-haired Radley was smiling with all his jutting teeth. He lived I don't understand where, not far from Grave Hill, but he got into the habit of following her all day long.

See a friend, Sophie replied.

Why are you friends with a witch? Radley asked.

She is not a witch.

She has no friends and she's ugly. Which automatically makes her a witch.

Sophie refrained from pointing out that Radley was facing a similar fate. Instead, she smiled to remind him that she was already doing a good deed by enduring his presence.

The school principal will take her to the School of Evil,” he said. And then you'll need a new friend.

He'll take two kids," Sophie said through gritted teeth.

The other one will be Belle. There is no one as good as Belle.

Sophie's smile faded.

But I'll be your new friend," Radley said.

At the moment, I have a lot of friends, - snapped Sophie.

Radley turned raspberry.

Oh, well, yeah... I just thought...

He ran away like a beaten dog.

Sophie watched his tousled hair go down the hill. “Well, what have you done,” she thought. A month of good deeds and forced smiles, and now it's all down the drain because of Radley. Why not make him happy? Why couldn't you just answer:

I would be honored to have such a friend!

And give him an idiotic moment that he would remember for years? She knew it would be the smart thing to do, because the Headmaster would probably judge her almost like Saint Nicholas the night before Christmas. But she couldn't let that happen. She was beautiful, Radley was ugly. Only a villain will deceive him. Of course, the School Director will understand everything.

Sophie pushed open the rusty graveyard gate and felt the weeds scratch at her feet. She walked up a hill with mildew-covered tombstones protruding erratically from a dune of dead leaves. Squeezing between dark graves and rotten branches, Sophie carefully counted rows. She had never looked at her mother's grave, not even at a funeral, and she wasn't going to look today. As she passed the sixth row, the girl stared at the weeping willow and reminded herself where she would be tomorrow.

In the middle of a pile of graves stood Grave Hill 1. The house was not boarded up or bolted like the lakeside cottages, but that didn't make it any more attractive. The steps leading up to the porch glowed with green mold. Dead birches and vines squeezed between the dark wood, and the roof, at a sharp angle, black and thin, hung down like a witch's hat.

As she climbed the groaning steps, Sophie tried to ignore the smell, a mixture of garlic and wet cat, and not look at the headless birds that littered the area, no doubt victims of the latter.

She knocked on the door and prepared for a fight.

Is that what they say to their best friend, sang Sophie.

You are not my best friend.

Who then? Sophie asked, wondering if Belle had somehow made her way up her path to Sepulcher Hill.

None of your business.

Sophie took a deep breath. She didn't want another incident like with Radley.

Agatha, we had such a good time yesterday. I thought we'd do it again today.

You dyed my hair orange.

But we fixed everything, didn't we?

You always test your ointments and elixirs on me to see how they work.

Isn't that what friends are for? Sophie asked. - To help each other?

I will never be as cute as you.

Sophie tried to find some nice words, but she dragged on too long and heard footsteps stomping away.

This doesn't mean we can't be friends! Sophie retorted.

A familiar cat, bald and shriveled, hissed at her from the porch. She started pounding on the door again.

I brought biscuits!

The footsteps were silent.

Real or did you bake it yourself?

Sophie backed away from the creeping cat.

Airy and oily, just the way you like it!

The cat hissed.

Agatha, let me in...

You say that I stink.

You don't stink.

Then why did you say that last time?

Because the last time you smelled! Agatha, cat vomit...

Maybe he sniffed out ulterior motives.

The cat bared its claws.

Agatha, open the door!

The cat pounced on her, aiming straight at her face. Sophie screamed. A hand appeared between them, knocking the cat down with a blow.

Sophie raised her eyes.

The reaper has exhausted all the birds, said Agatha.

The hideous dome of her hair looked like it had been coated with oil. Her hulking black dress, shapeless as a potato sack, could not hide her strangely pale skin and protruding bones. The ladybug's eyes were bulging in her sunken face.

I thought we'd go for a walk, Sophie said.

Agatha leaned against the door.

I can’t understand everything, why are you friends with me?

Because you're cute and funny, Sophie replied.

My mother says that I am sharp, and a curmudgeon, - said Agatha. - So one of you is lying.

She reached over to Sophia's basket, and pulled back the napkin to reveal dry biscuits with no bran and no butter underneath. Agatha gave Sophie a withering look and retreated into the house.

So, can we take a walk? Sophie asked.

Agatha started to close the door, but then she saw her sad face. As if Sophie was all in anticipation of their upcoming walk.

But fast. Agatha walked past her. “But if you blurt out something smug or arrogant or petty, I will let the Reaper out of the house after you.

Sophie ran after her.

But then I won't be able to talk!

Four years later, the terrible eleventh night of the eleventh month came. At the end of a sunny day, the square is in full swing with preparations for the arrival of the School Director. The men sharpened their swords, set their traps, and set up night watchmen, while the women lined up the children and worked hard on them. The beauties had their hair cut off, their teeth blackened, and their clothes torn to tatters; the plain-looking ones are washed to a shine, wrapped in bright colors and covered with a veil. Mothers begged their diligent ones to swear or beat their sisters, the worst ones were bribed to pray in the church, while the rest sang the village hymn: "Blessed be Ordinary."

Fear has become a contagious disease. In a dim alley, a butcher and a blacksmith traded storybooks for clues on how to save their sons. Beneath the rickety clock tower, two sisters listed the names of fairy tale villains in search of prototypes. A group of boys chained themselves to each other, and a few girls hid under the school roof; a child in a mask jumped out from behind the bushes to scare his mother, for which he immediately grabbed the cuff. Even the homeless hag came to life, jumping in front of the meager fire, croaking:

Burn fairy tales! Burn them all!

But no one listened and no books were burned.

Agatha stared, not believing her ears.

But how does the whole city believe in these fairy tales?

Because they are for real.

Agatha stopped.

You can't really believe the legend is true.

Well, of course I do," Sophie replied.

That the School Principal kidnaps two children, takes them to a school where one is taught Good, the other Evil, and they end up in fairy tales?

Exactly.

Tell me if you see an oven.

I want to stick my head in there. And what exactly, pray tell, is taught in this school?

Well, in the School of Kindness, they teach boys and girls like me, how to become heroes and princesses, how to rule kingdoms fairly, and how to find your Happily Ever After,” Sophie explained. - In the School of Evil, you will be taught how to turn into evil witches and hunchbacked trolls, how to cast curses and weave evil spells.

Evil charms? Agatha giggled. - Who thought of this before? Four year old?

Agatha, evidence in fairy tale books! Missing kids in pictures! Jack, Rose, Rapunzel - they all have their own fairy tales ...

I don't see anything because I don't read stupid fairy tales.

Then why do you have a stack of books next to your bed? Sophie asked.

Agatha furrowed her brows.

Listen, who even said that the books are real? Maybe it's the work of the booksellers. Maybe the Elders are scaring us away from the forest. Whatever the explanation, it's not the School Principal and it's not an evil spell.

So who is stealing children?

Yes, no one. Every four years, two idiots go wandering into the woods, hoping to scare their parents, only to get lost or fall prey to wolves, and, as they say, the legend lives on.

This is the most stupid explanation I have ever heard.

I don't think I'm here Stupid, - retorted Agatha.

Something about being called a fool made Sophie's blood boil.

You're just scared, she said.

Well, yes, - Agatha laughed. - And why would I be scared?

Because you know that you will go with me.

Agatha stopped laughing. And then her eyes flickered past Sophie to the square. The villagers looked at them as if they were the perfect solution to a riddle. Good is in pink, Evil is in black. The perfect match for the School Principal.

Still frozen, Agatha watched as dozens of frightened eyes bored into her. Her first thought was that the day after tomorrow she and Sophie would be at peace and enjoy their walks. Beside her, Sophie watched as the children memorized her face in case it appeared one day in the pages of a fairy tale. Her first thought was if they looked at Belle the same way.

And then, in the crowd, she saw her.

Shaved head, dirty dress, Belle knelt in the mud, feverishly soiling her face. Sophie sniffed the air. Belle was like everyone else. She wanted to marry a man who would grow fat, lazy, and picky. She wanted monotonous everyday life for cooking, cleaning, sewing. She wanted to dig through the dung and milk the sheep and kill the squealing pigs. She wanted to rot in Gavaldon until her skin turned brown and her teeth fell out. The school principal will never take Belle away because she is not a princess. She is... nothing.

Victory, Sophie beamed again at the sight of the miserable villagers and enjoyed their glances like shining reflections…

Come on, said Agatha.

Sophie turned around. Agatha's eyes were glued to the crowd of people.

As the sun waned to a red ball, two girls, one beautiful, the other ugly, were sitting side by side on the shore of the lake. Sophie wrapped the cucumbers in a silk bag while Agatha struck a match and put it out in the water. After ten matches, Sophie glared at her.

It relaxes me,” Agatha said.

Sophie tried to squeeze in the last cucumber.

Why would someone like Belle want to stay? Who would choose this instead of a fairy tale?

And who willingly decides to leave his family forever? snorted Agatha.

Except for me, you mean,” Sophie clarified.

They fell silent.

Have you ever wondered where your father went? Sophie asked.

I told you, he left right after I was born.

But where did he go? We are surrounded by forest! And here is such an unexpected disappearance ... - Sophie turned. - Maybe he found his way to a fairy tale! Maybe he found a magical portal! Maybe he's waiting for you on the other side!

Or maybe he returned to his wife, pretending that I never existed and died ten years later in a mill due to an accident.

Sophie bit her lip and continued to work on the cucumbers.

Your mother is never at home when I visit.

She's in town now," Agatha said. - There are few patients near the house. It's probably in the wrong place.

I'm sure it is," Sophie said, knowing that no one would trust Agatha's mother to treat diaper rash, let alone illness. - It seems to me that the sight of the cemetery makes people a little uncomfortable.

Cemeteries have their advantages, Agatha objected. - No curious neighbors, salesmen. No questionable "girlfriends" wearing masks and eating cookies, telling you that you're going to the Wicked School in Fairyland.

She struck a match with delight.

Sophie put down her cucumber.

So now I'm doubtful.

Who asked you to show yourself to me? It was great for me as well.

You always let me in

Because you always seem so lonely,” Agatha said. “And I feel sorry for you.

Are you feeling sorry for me? Sophie's eyes sparkled. - Yes, you are lucky that in general someone comes to visit you when no one else wants to. You're lucky that someone like me is going to be your friend. You're lucky that someone is such a good person!

I knew it! Agatha exploded. - I am your Good Deed! Just a pawn in your stupid fantasy!

Sophie didn't say anything for a long time.

Well, maybe I became your friend to impress the Headmaster, she finally admitted. - But now it's not quite like that.

Because I brought you to clean water, - grumbled Agatha.

Because I like you.

Agatha turned to her.

Now, no one understands me here,” Sophie said, looking down at her hands. - Nobody but you. You understand who I am. That's why I keep coming. Agatha, you're no longer a good deed.

Sophie looked up at her.

You are my friend.

Agatha's neck blushed.

What's wrong? Sophie frowned.

Agatha slouched into her dress.

It's just... umm... I... umm... haven't had any girlfriends before.

Sophie smiled and took her hand.

Well, now we'll be friends at our new school.

Agatha groaned and pulled away.

Let's say that I lowered myself to your level of intelligence and pretended to believe it all. Why would I go to the school of villainy? Why would everyone choose me as the Mistress of Evil?

No one says, Agatha, that you are evil, - Sophie sighed. - You're just different.

Agatha frowned.

How is it different?

Well, for starters, you only wear black.

Because black doesn't get dirty.

You don't leave the house.

There are no people looking at me.

For the Write a Story contest, you submitted stories that ended with Snow White being eaten by vultures and Cinderella drowning in a tub.

I thought it was the best ending.

For my birthday, you gave me a dead frog!

To remind you that we will all die and end up rotting underground, being eaten by worms, and therefore should enjoy our birthdays while we have them. I thought there was something to think about here.

Agatha, you dressed up as a bride for Halloween.

Weddings are so scary.

Sophie stared at her in amazement.

OK. So, I'm a little different, different from the others, - Agatha flashed her eyes. - So what?

Sophie hesitated.

Well, it's just that in fairy tales, in fairy tales, being different from others turns, hmm... into evil.

You say that I'm going to turn into the Great Witch, - Agatha said offendedly.

I told you, no matter what happens, you have a choice,” Sophie said softly. We both get to choose how our stories end.

Agatha was silent for a moment. And then she touched Sophie's arm.

Why do you want to leave this place so badly? Because you believe in fairy tales even though you know they're lies?

Sophie met Agatha's big sincere eyes. And for the first time, she allowed herself to doubt.

Because I can't live here,” Sophie said in a halting voice. - I can't live a normal life.

Funny, said Agatha. - That's why I like you.

Sophie smiled.

Because, like me, you can't live a normal life?

Because you make me feel ordinary,” Agatha replied. - And that's all I ever wanted.

The clock in the belfry sang darkly in tenor for six or seven o'clock, for they had lost track of time. And when the echo disappeared into the bustle of the square somewhere far away, both Sophie and Agatha made a wish that tomorrow they would still be together.

Wherever they are.