The School for Good and Evil #2: A World without Princes by Soman Chainani Page A

Under those two tree tracks, the yellow DAHLIA LINE buzzed with groups of beautiful and homely women, while its crisscrossing pink PEONY LINE had only three rumpled, dirty male dwarfs. Agatha didn’t remember the caterpillar saying anything about women and men sitting apart, but then again she couldn’t remember half his stupid rules.
    She was distracted by two parakeets, feathers the color of a rain forest, who fluttered up with glasses of celery-cucumber juice and pistachio muffins. On the illuminated trunk above her head, an orchestra of well-dressed lizards struck up a baroque waltz on violins and flutes, accompanied by a chorus of caroling green frogs. For the first time in weeks, Agatha managed a smile. She inhaled the sweet, nutty muffin in one bite and washed it down with the tart juice.
    In the harness next to her, Sophie sniffed and poked at her muffin.
    â€œYou going to eat that?” Agatha said.
    Sophie shoved it at her, mumbling something about butter and the devil’s work. “It’s easy to get home,” she said, watching Agatha scarf it. “All we have to do is ride this line in the opposite direct—”
    Agatha had stopped chewing. Slowly Sophie followed her friend’s eyes down to her own punctured palms . . . to the raw marks around her wrists left by the Elders’reins . . . to the scarlet letters faint on her chest. . . .
    â€œWe can’t go home, can we?” Sophie breathed.
    â€œEven if we prove the Elders lied, the School Master will still hunt you,” said Agatha miserably.
    â€œHe can’t be alive. We saw him die, Aggie.” Sophie looked up at her friend. “Didn’t we?”
    Agatha didn’t have an answer.
    â€œHow did we lose it, Aggie?” Sophie said, looking so confused. “How did we lose our happy ending?”
    Agatha knew this was the time to finish what she’d started at the hollow. But gazing into Sophie’s big doe eyes, she couldn’t bear to break her heart. Somehow there had to be a way to fix this without her friend ever knowing what she wished for. Her wish was just a mistake. A mistake she’d never ever have to face.
    â€œThere has to be a way to get our ending back,” Agatha said, determined. “There has to be a way to seal the gates—”
    But Sophie was staring past her, head cocked. Agatha turned.
    The Flowerground was empty behind them. All its passengers had disappeared.
    â€œAggie . . . ,” Sophie wheezed, squinting into the distant mist—
    Agatha saw now too. Red hoods swinging towards them across the tracks.
    Both girls tore at their harnesses, but the vines yokedthem tighter. Agatha tried to make her finger glow, but it wouldn’t light—
    â€œAggie, they’re coming!” Sophie yelled, seeing the hoods leap onto the red line two tracks above.
    â€œPull on your vine!” Agatha shouted, for that’s how she’d seen the others get off the ride. But no matter how hard she or Sophie tugged, the track just whisked them along.
    Agatha fumbled for Radley’s dagger and cut herself free, eyeing the red hoods getting closer. “Stay there!” she screamed at Sophie, measuring the distance to her friend’s vine. Dangling from her strap, Agatha winced at the giant fly-traps snapping out of the bottomless pastel pit below. With a cry, she kicked and swung herself into the tunnel wind for Sophie—
    Her hands missed the strap and she crashed into Sophie, grappling her like a tree.
    The green tree trunk turned bright orange and started flashing. “VIOLATION,” a crabby voice boomed over a speaker. “NO SWINGING. VIOLATION. NO SWINGING. VIOLATION—”
    A flock of green parakeets flew in and started pecking at Agatha’s dress, trying to pull it off. She dropped her knife. “What the—”
    â€œGet off her!” Sophie shrieked, slapping the birds