scott street

4: AGATHA

"It's a matter of principle, darling," Sophie insisted loudly over the thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk of her sewing machine, one night a few days before their departure. "I have a reputation to uphold, and frankly I'd rather die than turn back up to Evil in something inadequate."

"I don't think the main thing our classmates are going to have remembered about you is your ability to run up an outfit." said Agatha tightly, perched with her knees drawn up on the end of Sophie's bed. There was nowhere else to sit, or stand; Sophie's poky attic bedroom was an utter wreck, scattered with explosions of great, fluffy fabric, odd shoes, enamelled boxes, dubiously stacked pots of beauty products, sheafs of herbs, sleep masks, hairbrushes, cloaks, hair curlers...

The persistent clatter of the sewing machine stopped, and Sophie ripped the garment from below the needle to stare critically at it. Then, she turned the stare on Agatha.

"Oh, not you too." she said huffily. "Yes, Lesso was very happy to adorn me with all these extra little caveats, like a particularly dire Christmas tree. No killing people until after graduation, Sophie. No maiming without a good reason, Sophie. Find a creative outlet, Sophie. If you have Nemesis Dreams again, you have to tell me, Sophie... stupid old bat. Everyone knows that that's over and done with. One of us was destroyed, and now we're back on good terms again!" She beamed at Agatha, got a sickly grimace in return, and frowned. "Yes, I had a teensey bit of a homicidal moment. Does that diminish my other achievements? Does that make me worthy of a terrible outfit? Besides, look! This is my creative outlet! I'm doing as Lesso said!"

She shook her piece of fabric like a revolutionary with a flag. Agatha said nothing. She wasn't really worried that Sophie was going to return to the shrieking hag that had pushed her out of a window last year– at least, she didn't think she was worried about that. It was more Sophie's horrifyingly flippant attitude towards... everything that was bothering her. She had a disturbing feeling that it was a cover for something.

She put her foot out and prodded a box filled with bottles of honeycream, making it jingle. Most of the things on the floor were additional belongings; the actual Evil required equipment was in a comedically conservative pile in a corner. As far as Agatha could tell, Evil had only required, beyond personal affects and clothing, an Ooty black coral trunk, 14 raven-feather quills (not crow), and 4 bottles of shark blood ink. The School for Evil was frugal until the last. Sophie was not.

"I can get you stuff from Good, you know? You don't need to lug this all over with you..."

"I don't want anything from Good," said Sophie dismissively.

"Dovey said we can all use the Groom Rooms now."

"There's a difference between allowed to, and actually can," scoffed Sophie. "I'd not put it past Beatrix to form a barricade at the door to stop the advance of the witches on her makeup stations."

Agatha couldn't say she hadn't had the thought herself. Dovey's reforms had been very optimistic, but she wasn't sure how they were going to work in practice. Agatha had hardly been able to conduct a survey on her fellow student's commitment to the new, progressive School, since she'd hardly seen any of them for months, but she wasn't best confident. She also hadn't listened to all of the reforms; she'd been so stressed, and so tired, she'd hardly taken it in. Dovey and Anemone had arrived very early, early enough to mean she'd still been asleep, which Agatha was sure had been purposeful.

---

In fact, not only had she been asleep, but she'd been having a rather bizarre stress dream.

In said dream, she'd been struggling through a Beautification pop quiz (1. What is the function of a jade roller? 2. When is it appropriate for a woman to wear opera gloves? 3. List three of Professor Anemone's favourite Ever fashion brands), with a looming Anemone telling her that everyone else finished hours ago, dear! Embarrassed, Agatha had scribbled down some bullshit answers and handed it over, but apparently it had been subpar, because Anemone sweetly informed Agatha that it was new school policy that inadequate, homely princesses were being fed to the dragon. 'The dragon' turned out to be Pollux's head on a great green dragon's body, curled around the Purity staircase. Her classmates and teachers, both Ever and Never, each one of them wearing a beautiful blue ballgown (even Manley, which was a bit weird), tied her up and carried her to the top of the stairs. They'd borne her past an idling Sophie, wearing the most splendid of all the blue gowns. She had bent over her, frowning.