Lizzie and Briar performed a glitter-bomb fist b.u.mp. Lizzie realized what she'd just done and pulled her hand behind her back. She must be cautious if she was to avoid accidentally becoming friends with anyone-particularly Briar, who had so many friends that soon Lizzie would be in danger of sinking on a friend ship. She knew what her mother would say about that.

Briar pulled the launch lever, and another explosion of glitter cascaded over the crowd. Her laugh was loud and bubbly, and it made Lizzie want to laugh, too. Of course, her mother's card warning about friendship also made that odd allowance for pirates....

"Briar," Lizzie said, "have you considered sailing a big boat and perhaps stealing things from other boats?"

"Um... you mean, like a pirate?"

"Yes, exactly like a pirate," Lizzie said. "I would be much more comfortable speaking with you if you were a pirate."

Briar put a finger to her chin, considering, and promptly glided to the ground, fast asleep.

"Arrr, Lizzie Hearts! Have ye killed Briar Beauty?" a voice asked from behind.

Daring Charming sauntered up and saluted her. He'd been so accommodating with her pirate request that Lizzie felt certain her mother couldn't disapprove of their friendship.

"Aren't you supposed to be racing?" Lizzie asked.

"No rush," he said. "I always win. Even when I don't." He winked at her. "Ahoy, matey."

A UNICORN-DRAWN CARRIAGE LET THE SWIMMERS off at the lakesh.o.r.e. Cedar hopped out first and jogged down to her spot on the dock. The lake water was as blue as dwarf crystals and so still Cedar could see the pattern of splashes a mermaid's tail had left behind. Around her, the other swimmers were stretching. Wooden limbs never got injured, but Cedar stretched, too, so she wouldn't seem weird.

"I hope you do great today, Cedar," said Poppy O'Hair, taking a place beside Cedar on the dock. Her hair was hidden in a blue swim cap.

"You, too, Poppy," said Cedar. "You are one of the nicest people I know."

"Wow, thanks," said Poppy. "When someone else compliments me, I always wonder if they really mean it, but with you, I know."

"Good day to you, Lady Wood!" Hopper Croakington II announced from her other side. He was in his frog form for the swimming, but what if he popped back into regular human Hopper in the middle of the lake? As much as Cedar longed to change into real Cedar, she didn't want it to happen during a swimming race.

In her nervousness, she didn't realize she was thumbing the thin line on her fingertip that had shown up after their mysterious Grimmnasium nap. It looked like a scar. Like a real, human scar. But, of course, wood didn't scar. She groaned and balled her hand into a fist to hide this further proof of her weirdness.

"What's wrong?" Raven asked, padding up next to her in bare feet. She had on a purple-and-black swimming dress, a glossy black swim cap covering her hair. At the last minute, d.u.c.h.ess Swan had dropped out, so Raven had volunteered to fill in for that team.

"I'm tired of being weird," Cedar blurted against her will. "I just want to be normal."

"What's normal?" Raven said, tucking a rogue lock of hair back under her cap. "No one is normal."

"You-"

"I am the daughter of the Evil Queen, who rampaged and tried to destroy fairytales, and half the school thinks I'm more evil than her precisely because I'm trying not to be."

"Apple-"

"Is perfect-and isn't that kind of weird? She never sweats. Have you noticed that? And all the birds? It must get old having birds constantly landing all over her and pecking her adoringly. And why doesn't she ever have bird p.o.o.p on her dress?"

"But... but everyone else-"

"When Hopper there gets tongue-tied, he turns into a frog," said Raven. "Briar is so determined not to miss a second of life before her one-hundred-year snooze that she stays up all night and then is napping randomly all day. Holly's and Poppy's hair grows, like, twenty feet a day. Cerise never takes off her hood. Ashlynn is all nature-girl and one with the animals and trees-unless you wave a pair of new shoes at her, and she absolutely loses her mind. Every time Hunter strikes a heroic pose, trumpets play a fanfare. Invisible trumpets. Who plays them? And why? And... and how? And I don't even have to mention Maddie. So you're made of wood and can't tell a lie. So that's a little weird. Look around! We're all weird."

Cedar did look around. She laughed. "I guess... I guess I just thought everyone else was normal-weird and I was..." She laughed again. "From inside my own head, I seem so different."

"We all do." Raven hugged her. "And we are, thank the G.o.dmother. Can you imagine how boring life would be if we weren't? Life without weirdness would have to be fake."

"Being different is what makes things real, and I'm different," Cedar said aloud without meaning to, but she didn't mind.

The crowd lining the race began cheering.

"That means the runners are close," Raven said. "We better get ready-or you better get ready, since Cerise is on your team. She's sure to be here any-"

"On your right!" called out Cerise to a few scattered gasps from the crowd. She was way ahead of everyone else.

Cedar felt the sudden instinct to take a deep breath, which was ridiculous, because she had no lungs. But she imagined herself taking a breath and somehow knew exactly what that felt like. She laughed just as Cerise planted the waterproof relay scroll in her hand.

"What's wrong?" Cerise said, huffing and puffing from her run.

"Nothing!" Cedar shouted as she splashed into the water. And it was true.

MADELINE HATTER WAS IN THE GROVE planting Wondodendron shoots in the rich black soil. The whole school was there, even the Tiara-thalon athletes, the swimmers still wet. Maddie was about to ask Cedar to stand closer so her dripping hair would water the plant when Maddie heard an unfamiliar voice.

What voice, Narrator? Your voice is very familiar to me. And, oh, I'm tippy-toe-tapping to hear it again and it's sense-making and story-giving!

Madeline Hatter, I am the Chief Chronicler, and I- Oh, that voice. Yes, that is unfamiliar. And so serious! I'm sorry to laugh, but serious stuff makes me feel ticklish in my ribs and hiccupy in my smile. I start to think about a serious little family of guinea pigs I once knew in Wonderland who always wore suits and ties and dresses and practical shoes and walked around, mumbling about "declining stock prices" and "society today."

Madeline Hatter, please pay attention. Things are very serious. Sacred rules of narration have been broken, and- Oh no! Please don't blame my cutie-patootie Narrator! Surely you know my Narrator was doing the best possible in a skrimpippled situation. And dangerous. So dangerous! And, yes, even serious. Besides, no one remembers what happened except me!

Yes, yes, of course. Your Narrator could hardly be blamed for being garbled by the Jabberwock's magic. Now, when you stepped in- I'm the one in trouble? Oh twinkle bats! Please don't banishment me. I know I broke lots of narration rules. Sometimes I said "I," and to get rid of the Jabberwock I narrated what wasn't exactly happening in order to make it really, really happen, which I know is a Big Bad No-No. And I got distracted and started talking about myself more than the main characters, Lizzie and Cedar. I know I'm not the main character, and I wasn't trying to be. I'm the quirky best friend; I'm the lovable sidekick; I'm the comic relief. I'm not the hero. I know this. It was all just so complicatish and worry-making, and I felt like I was wearing an extra-tight thinking cap but not just on my head. Everywhere! And- Madeline Hatter...

...I'm sorry. I'll never step on the Narrator's invisible toes again and just stay away from the action and not make a peep and never, ever after think I could possibly be a hero.

Is she always like this?

Always.

Narrator! You're supposed to be on my side!

I am, believe me. And I will be on your side forever after. I am officially Madeline Hatter's number one fan. Now, please listen. The Chief Chronicler isn't mad at you. Or me. She's... well, I'd say, she's impressed. And grateful. And- Stunned.

Stunned, yes, but grateful, too. This is serious. Seriously exciting! We have something for you.

Ahem. Madeline Hatter, you are the first non-Narrator to be awarded one of our highest honors. Although you can't see it, I just pinned to your collar the Golden Glyph, a medal honoring your bravery, quick-thinking, and impressive narrative skills.

Good golden goose eggs, really? That's tea-riffic! I wish I could give you a hug!

Chief Chronicler, if you don't mind... may I narrate The End of this story?

Yes, please, go right ahead.

And this is what happened next. Ahem.

PEOPLE WERE USED TO MADELINE HATTER talking to herself, so her friends hadn't thought two things about the seemingly one-sided conversation she'd been having for the past several minutes. But now something new happened. A wind batted at Maddie's hair. No one else in the Grove even felt a breeze, and yet Maddie's lavender-and-mint-green curls wisped and lifted around her head. Her skirt flapped; her hat tipped. And then she began to rise.

The draft was so powerful it completely encircled her, lifting her on a soft blanket of breezes. Floating felt like falling into the deepest down comforter, cozy and sigh-inducing.

You see, Narrators everywhere, including her own, were giving her a twenty-one chapter salute. The rustling breath of unseen books flipping through their pages created such a strong wind around her that it carried her up, up, high up in the air. The other students stood, confused and yet understanding something solemn was happening.

Cupid flew up beside her. "Are you okay, Maddie?"

"Yep, I'm good," Maddie said, spinning and tumbling in the air. "Wheeee!"

And though none of the students could remember exactly what had happened that strange day at Ever After High, they knew something had. Something big. Something important. Something that Maddie had been a part of. And now they were more sure than ever that Madeline Hatter was absotively wonderlandiful.

Thanks, Narrator. That was fun.

Thank you, Madeline Hatter. And may you live Happily Ever After.

For more great reads and free samplers, visit LBYRDigitalDeals.com Ever After is feeling like a second home now. (Hey, Narrator, I wouldn't mind summering there, if that could be arranged.) Ma.s.sive thanks to Ever After High's architects and caretakers from Mattel: Cindy Ledermann, Lara Dalian, Julia Phelps, Christine Kim, Robert Rudman, Nicole Corse, Audu Paden, and Venetia Davie. Equally ma.s.sive thanks to the beamish team at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, including Erin Stein, Connie Hsu, Andrew Smith, Melanie Chang, Victoria Stapleton, Christine Ma, Christina Quintero, Tim Hall, Mara Lander, Jenn Corcoran, and Jonathan Lopes. A round of clip-clapping for Barry Goldblatt, knight in shinny-shiny armor.

My husband, Dean Hale, is a frabjous sounding board, in-house editor, and idea-herder at the best of times, but with this book he was heavily involved to the point of absolute marvelosity. You, sir, are a sillypants of delightful degree. Extra helpings of thanks to the other sillypantslings in my life, Dinah, Maggie, Max, and Wren, whose Wonder powers the stories.

New York Times bestselling author SHANNON HALE knew at age ten that it was her destiny to become a writer. She has quested deep into fairy tales in such enchanting books as Ever After High: The Storybook of Legends, Ever After High: The Unfairest of Them All, The Goose Girl, Book of a Thousand Days, Rapunzel's Revenge, and Newbery Honor recipient Princess Academy. With the princely and valiant writer Dean Hale, Shannon coauth.o.r.ed four charming children, who are free to follow their own destinies. Just so long as they get to bed on time.

To be born a fairytale princess is a blessing, indeed, but hers is not the lazy, carefree life that many imagine. There are numerous, important decisions that a princess must make every day.

For example, how would she like to be awoken in the morning? Should she choose an enchanted alarm clock to sing and dance around her bedroom? Perhaps her parents could employ fairies to gently sprinkle waking dust on her cheeks. Maybe she'd prefer to have a household troll ring a gong or her MirrorPhone blare the latest hit song.

d.u.c.h.ess Swan, a fairytale princess proud and true, chose none of those options. Instead, she liked to be awoken by her favorite sound in the whole world.

Honk! Honk!

"Don't tell me it's morning already," a voice grumbled.

d.u.c.h.ess opened her eyes. While the honking had come from the large nest next to her bed, the complaining had come from across the room. To her constant dismay, d.u.c.h.ess did not sleep alone. This was the girls' dormitory at a very special school called Ever After High, and her roommate was Lizzie Hearts, daughter of the famously angry Queen of Hearts. Lizzie was not a morning person. Which is why she didn't own an alarm clock.

Honk! Honk!

"For the love of Wonderland!" Lizzie exclaimed, her voice partially m.u.f.fled by a pillow. "Off with the duck's head!"

Duck? d.u.c.h.ess frowned. Seriously?

"Pirouette is not a duck," d.u.c.h.ess said, sitting up in bed. "Pirouette is a trumpeter swan."

"Duck, swan, pigeon... she's loud." Lizzie burrowed beneath a jumble of blankets.

"Of course she's loud," d.u.c.h.ess said. "She's named after a trumpet, not a flute."

Honk! Honk!

d.u.c.h.ess waved, to let Pirouette know that she hadn't gone unnoticed. Then d.u.c.h.ess pushed back the lavender silk comforter and set her bare feet on the stone floor. It was the first day of the new school chapter, and she was looking forward to her new cla.s.ses. Why? Because each cla.s.s was another opportunity to get a perfect grade. As a member of the Royals, d.u.c.h.ess took her princess duties very seriously. One of those duties was to be the best student she could be.

But there was another truth, somewhat darker and simmering below her perfect surface. d.u.c.h.ess Swan was well aware that grades were something she could control, while her ill-fated destiny was not.

Tendrils of warm air wafted from the furnace vent, curling around her like a hug. She pointed her toes, then flexed, stretching the muscles. It was important to keep her feet limber, for she was a ballerina, and her feet were her instruments.

Honk! Honk!

"Okay. Hold your feathers." d.u.c.h.ess slid into her robe, then opened the window. A gust of fresh morning air blew across her face. Pirouette flew outside, heading for the lush green meadow. A swan needs to stretch, too.

Just as d.u.c.h.ess tied the laces on her dress, the bedroom door flew open and two princesses barged in. "Ever heard of a little thing called knocking?" d.u.c.h.ess asked.

"Can we talk?" the first princess said. Her name was Ashlynn Ella, daughter of the famously humble Cinderella. She yawned super-wide. "It's about your alarm clock."

The second princess, whose name was Apple White, daughter of the famously beautiful Snow White, also yawned. "Yes. Your goose alarm clock."

"She's not a goose." d.u.c.h.ess sighed. These princesses really knew how to get under her wings. "She's a swan."

"Oh, that's right. Sorry," Apple said.

The two princesses, having just rolled out of bed, looked unbelievably perfect. No bedhead, no sheet lines, no crusty sandman sand at the corners of their eyes. Apple was known as the Fairest One of All, and Ashlynn couldn't be any lovelier, even if she tried.

"Apple and I agree, as do the other princesses, that the honking sound that comes from your room every morning is starting to become a bit of a royal pain."

Royal pain? d.u.c.h.ess looked away for a brief moment so they wouldn't see the twinge of hurt feelings.

"I'd be happy to lend you some of my songbirds," Ashlynn said. Then she whistled. Three tiny birds flew through the doorway and landed on her outstretched finger. "It's such a cheerful way to wake up."

"Bird alarms aren't always reliable," Apple said. "I'd be happy to connect you to my network of dwarves. They'll send a wake-up call to your MirrorPhone."

"I don't need your songbirds or dwarves," d.u.c.h.ess told them, a bit annoyed.

Okay, she was more than a bit annoyed. Those girls were always acting as if they were better. They really ruffled her feathers!

Ashlynn, Apple, and Lizzie were Royals-the blood daughters of fairytale kings and queens. Being a Royal at Ever After High meant being part of the most popular and the most privileged group. d.u.c.h.ess was also a Royal, but she was different. Most Royals were destined to marry other Royals and rule kingdoms, living out their lives in comfort, health, and fortune. In other words, a big, fat Happily Ever After was waiting for most of them.

But d.u.c.h.ess did not have such a future, nor did she have a future as a dancer. Her destiny, as the daughter of the Swan Queen, was to turn into a swan and live out her days web-footed and feathered.

You can't perform a graceful grand jete with webbed feet!

To make matters worse, she had no Happily Ever After with a charming prince written into her story.

Although d.u.c.h.ess's future did not seem fair, she'd accepted her circ.u.mstances. It was her duty to keep her story alive by fulfilling her destiny. She worked hard at her studies and her dancing. She did her best to make her family proud. But it drove her crazy that these girls had nothing more to worry about than being awoken by honking. It was just as d.u.c.h.ess often said: Birds of a feather flock together.

Lizzie popped her head out of the covers and glared at the intruders. "I order this meeting to be over. Now!"

"Sounds good to me," d.u.c.h.ess said. "Even though I was so enjoying our little chat." She forced a smile. "However, it's time to get dressed for cla.s.s. And you know what happens if you're late." She looked directly at Ashlynn.

"Oh my G.o.dmother, thanks for the reminder," Ashlynn said, her eyes widening with worry. If she was even just one second late, her clothes would turn into rags. She picked up the hem of her nightgown and rushed out the door, her songbirds following.

"Well, I'd better go, too. I hear my magic mirror calling. Charm you later," Apple said.