Reborn as Sophie from The School for Good and Evil

Chapter 1: The New Sophie

Marie froze, waking up with a sudden jolt of a hammering noise. Was dad making something? She opened her eyes, yawning at a stranger in front of her. He was currently nailing a misshapen bar over the window.

"Eeeek!" Maria yelped at the sight of the man and dropped to the floor. The man's eyes widened and he lumbered forward to help her.

"Sorry, I was busy boardin' up your window, Sophie." He stretched his hand towards her.

Wait, Sophie? Wasn't that the name of one of the main characters of 'The School for Good and Evil'? It would certainly explain all the pink, the cottage-like bedroom, and the burly man. Oh god, it was Stefan that was in front of her. Timidly, she reached her arm up and Stefan heaved her up, back on the bed.

"Everyone's prattling on that you're to be taken this year," he grunted before adding, " They tell me to shear your hair, muddy up your face, as if I believe all this fairy-tale hogwash. But no one's getting in here tonight. That's for sure.", Stefan nodded towards the boarded window, covered in bunches of nails.

Maria responded, remembering what Sophie had said. She wanted to sound as accurate as she could before she assessed the whole situation.

"Locks. how come nobody has thought about that?"

"I don't know why they think it's you." he said, his silver hair slick with sweat." "If it's goodness that School Master fellow wants, he'll take Gunilda's daughter."

She nodded, not saying anything more as she didn't remember who Gunilda's daughter's name was. She didn't want him to bring up the food thing either. Apparently, Sophie never cooked a full meal for him, as she didn't want him to get 'ballooned into a blimp'. Stefan noticed she had nothing to say and left, swiftly slamming the door shut. As soon as he left, Maria screamed into her pillow. How did this happen? Sure, she'd wanted to try shifting but not here! What if this wasn't a dream and she was stuck here forever? What about her real parents, would she ever see them again? Would she ever see her annoying sisters again?

Maria felt tears fill her eyes. She sat up and wiped them off before they could fall. She decided she would survive this place and find a way to get home.

She swept out of bed and located the bathroom, slamming it shut. Maria studied her newfound face. She had blonde hair, with a sheen of gold reaching to her waist, the opposite of what her hair used to look like, dark brown and normal. Jade green eyes reflected in the mirror along with red lips. She had creamy peach skin, different from the tan color she had.

Sophie was stunning. Too stunning. She spun to the side noticing the fish eggs and other odd items. No WAY she was rubbing that on her face. The only thing off about her was her hair, tangled up from a restless sleep. She grabbed a brush and her hair, untangling the knots. They unraveled smoothly and she strutted to the closet to find something to wear. Pink. Pink dresses and pink everything lay there. Maria stared in horror at the monstrosity of pink. Sure light pink was fine but this was too...neon.

She wanted to slam her closet door when she noticed a box sitting at the bottom. Opening it she found a black shirt, a leather jacket, and some black pants. Sophie's memories suddenly rushed into her mind and she knew where the clothes came from. Agatha gave her to them. Her heart leaped as she recalled her favorite character. She took the clothes out and grinned.

She stepped out of the house in the newfound clothes that fit snugly on her body. She suddenly frowned. She didn't know how to get to Agatha's place. The only thing she remembered about her area was that she lived in a cemetery. She thought hard and closed her eyes, trying to trigger a memory from Sophie. A map of the area filled her mind along with the mental path of Agatha's place. She relied on her memories and walked a mile from the lakeside cottages, with green leaves and sun-drenched turrets, towards the gloomy edges of the forest. Sounds of hammering echoed through cottage lanes as she passed fathers boarding up doors, mothers stuffing scarecrows, boys and girls hunched on porches, noses buried in storybooks.