Of Sorcery and Snow by Shelby Bach Page A

slippers with a flexibility spell embedded in them. The Director had announced a sign-up sheet for anyone who wanted to borrow a pair a while back, but I’d been too focused on the tournament to care.
    The ninth graders shifted into position below them. I glimpsed Ben’s seersucker jacket, and then a loud beat exploded from them.
    A kid wearing a blazer covered in patches passed some speakers to Ben. Then he pulled a beanie out of another pocket, stuck it over his hair, flipped upside down, and started to spin, his legs at crooked angles.
    The break-dance-at-the-ball-distraction. Perfect.
    Looking like a Draconus melodius about to breathe fire, the Director deployed the troops. Hansel and Stu, the Shoemaker, both pushed through the crowd toward the commotion.
    â€œIt’s not working!” Lena’s whisper hissed with panic. “There are still way too many people in the courtyard for Melodie to bring the spell out here.”
    Chase stepped back and opened the doors wide. Then he cupped his hands over his mouth and called to everyone outside. “Dude, Lancer Davis is b-boying! The Director’s going to freak!”
    Kids rushed from the Table to the ballroom. We scooted out of the way as Character after Character passed by, craning their necks to get a peek at the action. Lena sprinted four doors down toward the workshop, way faster than she should have in those heels.
    â€œWell done,” I told Chase, and he grinned.
    Soon just one couple sat in an overstuffed chair under the Tree of Hope, but they were too busy kissing to notice us. The only other people I saw in the courtyard were three figures in front of the library door. Miriam, Natalie, and Shakayla. Hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like Miriam was tapping her foot.
    The metal doors to the workshop slid open, and out came Lena and Melodie, along with her dummy chauffeur. They came slowly, step by painful step, carrying a scrying bowl. It was filled with a really gross concoction: green and gold dragon scales ground down to the size of sprinkles, reeking of sulfur; random sticks and twigs; a photograph of me, Chase, and Lena; and a spoon made out of coral.
    Chase inspected it too. “Please tell me the spoon isn’t for eating.”
    Melodie hunched over the bowl protectively and sent us her golden-eyed glare of doom. “This is a very delicate spell. Almost as touchy as brewing a portable wish. If you breathe on it funny, you mess it up.”
    â€œWell, can you hurry?” Chase asked. “It’s not going to take the Director very long to kick that kid out.”
    â€œIs anybody looking?” Lena said. “It won’t work if people are watching us.”
    I glanced through the door. A circle had formed around Lancer, and now people were cheering and clapping in rhythm. Hansel and Stu couldn’t get close enough to stop him. The Director looked like she was about ready to charge in herself and escort Lancer off into the dungeon. “I think we’re okay,” I said.
    â€œThen, on the count of three,” said the harp. Lena nodded and took a deep breath. “One, two . . . three.” Then the harp and her mistress unleashed a long torrent of Fey words, in a weird sort of singsong. I definitely shouldn’t have taken my gumdrop translator out.
    The scrying bowl boiled with color until it bubbled over the sides and all the way down to the grass. It streamed off in one direction and spilled upward, recreating a Lena, Chase, and Rory. Watching my green flats appear and then my ankles creeped me out so much that I had to look away.
    Lena noticed. She smiled sympathetically. “I know. It’s weird, but it’s fast. Look—they’re already done.”
    Three new figures stood in the courtyard, identical to us, right down to Lena’s long golden gloves and Chase’s too-short sleeves and the tree-shaped comb Rapunzel had put in my hair. It was weird to watch my