Shoelaces

A/N: First off, thank you for stopping by and that my summary intrigued enough! Second, prepare for spoilers about all three books. Third, please leave feedback! Whether it's a follow, favourite or review, it'd be greatly appreciated! (Also constructive criticism is welcomed, feel free to tear it apart) Other than that, enjoy!

Chapter One: The Oldest First-Year

To think that Henrietta was going to be a First-Year at the School of Good... at 17. She flushed with embarrassment as she watched princesses bloom from the flower garden, all of them barely feeling the effects of womanhood. Some of them glanced at her with surprise, curiosity and a small hint of apprehension. It wasn't enough to be worried about it, but she still could see it. It was a small flicker, like a firefly's enigmatic light in the middle of a dark forest.

With a small huff, she grabbed her burlap sack of supplies: a memento from each of the children back home (most of the bag's contents were said mementos), her pajamas, an extra pair of clothes, three handmade notebooks and a pen. Henrietta hoisted it over her shoulder and proceeded to head towards the large, pristine and prestigious castle. All the young princesses that she was with were in stark contrast against her.

Where the young girls wore all sorts of stylish dresses, gowns and ensembles, all of them in bright, pastel colours, Henrietta wore a dowdy dress the shade of polished oak. The simple sleeveless bodice silhouetted her figure while the skirt fell in a drab way. She wore a creamy beige undershirt, with loose sleeves that came down to the middle of her forearm, kept there with elastic cuffs. The sleeves of the undershirt were dirtied with blanched flour stains and cocoa smears. The dress even had a few grease stains, but the dreary folds could conceal most of them.

Shame, Henrietta thought, this was her best dress. She shrunk into herself, keeping her eyes on the ground, but pressed on.

However, she could notice that all of them had glorious shoes. Adorable ballet flats, glamorous heels, pretty wedges... Henrietta flushed with even more embarrassment, making sure that her scuffed loafers were hidden underneath her dress. She loved shoes, dreamed of shoes and now, she saw the most beautiful shoes she's seen in all her life on would-be princesses.

How could she compare to these pretty, young First-Years?

Henrietta was fidgeting by the time she reached the Theater of Tales, feeling awkward in her pink pinafore. She enjoyed the shoes, really enjoyed the shoes, but that was about the only thing she enjoyed about the uniform. Everything else was strange. The skirt of the pinafore was too short for her taste and showcased her bruised, scratched legs. She didn't like the dip of the collar that exposed her collarbones, not that anything was wrong with them.

Still, she followed the crowd of buzzing identical pinafores. She was the last one into the Theater, awkward amongst all the First-Years. Anyone could tell she wasn't the same kind of youth as these girls. She tried to blend in as well as she could, but she felt a lot of eyes on her. Particularly the Fourth-Years. Questioning the same things she did.

"The boys are going to spar on the stage," one of the First-Years whispered, "My sister told me that's what's going to happen, even if it's on the Evil side of school."

"How many roses do you think we'll get?" another First-Year whispered.

"How handsome will they be?"

"What if we meet our True Love here!"

"Oh gosh, I'm so excited!"

"I wonder how their form is." All the First-Years turned to Henrietta as soon as the words left under her breath. She straightened her back and flashed a weak, but polite smile. "The better prince will have the better form, right? If a prince is stumbling and dashing his sword about carelessly, you can tell he hasn't practiced proper form... you know, just to keep an eye out."

The other girls began to murmur, agreeing to look out for their footwork. Henrietta hadn't muttered it to scope out her prince. In fact, she didn't want a prince at all. What use would be a prince back home? The only reason she muttered it was because she was curious to see who she'd be able to go against in swordsmanship.

The Nevers filed in, both girl and boy, in black, ill-fitting robes and with such uniqueness, Henrietta had to gasp. They were all so different from each other, some with green skin, red skin and utterly white skin. They were tall and short, skinny and fat, ugly and beautiful. They were unique, not dowdy and plain and could be mistaken for any other village girl in the kingdom.

Henrietta's breath caught in her throat when three robes entered behind everyone else. One of them was fat, but sweet-faced (even if it was completely covered in smeared chocolate). The other was ghostly white and bewitching, looking like she had something to prove. But, their uniqueness, their enchanting, malicious demeanours, paled in comparison to their leader.

She had black hair streaked with red. Sure, it wasn't the cleanest hair but it was brilliant on her. A red tattoo on her neck barely peeked out of her robes, but Henrietta still couldn't make out what the tattoo was. The look on her face said it all: in control, powerful, vicious... and strangely calm. Even the other two students behind the leader glanced back and forth, gauging competition. The leader didn't waver as she sat down in one of the black pews.

Henrietta didn't even realize she was staring until the albino student nudged the leader, then pointed towards her and muttered something. Instantly, Henrietta tried to look absolutely interested in the conversation about how tight the princes' breeches would be.

The shouts of clamours of the princes could be heard offstage. The princesses held their breath and the gritting of the Nevers' teeth could be heard from Henrietta's seat. She sunk lower into the pews, trying to hide herself from detection.

If he saw her, she'd never hear the end of it.

As expected, the First-Year princes were shoddy and were easily overwhelmed by the older princes. There were a few princes whose talents weren't swordplay, thus they stuttered just as much as the newbies. The Nevers' booed and jeered, some even throwing rotten food on the stage. Many of the Evergirls swooned. Once the whole show was over, and a prince had come out on top, the Everboys were guided to their seat. Roses decorated the pews, certain Evergirls earning more roses than others. A few sulked with none to their name. Henrietta couldn't care.

Once she examined the princes' footwork, her eyes were immediately glued to the other things belonging to the Theater: the murals, the smoky images of both sides of the Theater, and the ultimate divide between them. Her eyes didn't land on the ground because it'd make her obvious to him.

Unfortunately, when her eyes did reach the ground once Castor and Pollux, the two-headed dog, took the stage, there was a rose daintily standing idle beside her shoes. At first, she thought it because of bad aim.

But then, she saw a note tied to the stem of the rose. She saw familiar handwriting, with the occasional smudge of ink because of his left-handedness. Henrietta didn't look up to try and find him. They'd talk, eventually.

The note read: "I'll see you at lunch, chicken."

Henrietta hated that nickname.

"Who were you talking to at lunch?" Mildred asked, her voice curious and sultry. She was a sweet child but had quite the way to wedge into business.

Henrietta shrugged, "His name's Chaddick. He's my age so he'd be..."

"A Fourth-Year! Hennie, do you know how lucky you are? A Fourth-Year not only acknowledging, but speaking, to a First-Year!" Mildred gushed. Her peach-colored cheeks dusted with a peppery red. She had chubby cheeks, baby fat trying desperately to cling to her defining cheekbones. Her hair was the colour of cinnamon, pulled into two symmetrical buns. Bright, auburn eyes shone even when she wasn't smiling. Her dress was like the petals of buttercups: rigid, cute and exuberantly yellow. So yellow, that when Henrietta looked at her, she couldn't help but smile.

"We are the same age, milady–"

"Oh, there you go again, Hennie! Talking to me as if I'm some princess already. I'm only a duchess, sixteenth in line to my kingdom. I'm not even close to a princess!" Mildred giggled, looking at the two girls' other roommate. "Should we start calling Hennie 'milady', too, Reina?"

"I-I-I-I don't know."

Reina was the pale to Mildred's bright. Her skin was the colour of milky ivory, her wheat-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail. The ponytail was absurdly long and Henrietta was sure that she's never had to do anything that would threaten her hair's length. Her eyes were periwinkle, a light blue with the faintest splash of purple. Her dress was a pale mint green that fell to the ground, sleeves hiding her small, dainty palms, as well. She squirmed when Henrietta and Mildred's eyes landed on her.

Henrietta quickly looked back to Mildred, who was bouncing on her bed. "Regardless, there's nothing to gush about with Chaddick and I."

"There's everything to gush about with you and Chaddick! You guys have the same gray eyes–"

"His are stormier. Mine kind of just... have no colour to them."

"You guys have such wonderful, smooth skin–"

"His skin is lucky that way. I have to work for mine, you have no idea."

"You guys both have such great posture–"

"We were taught by the same person. Nothing special."

"You guys–wait, you know Chaddick from outside of school?"

Henrietta nodded, letting out a soft sigh. "It's what I'm trying to tell you. Chaddick and I have history, the kind of history that no romance could possibly come out of. He's like a brother to me!"

"Then why weren't you happy to see him?" Mildred gasped, enjoying the plot twist. She was trying to mull out all sorts of possibilities for the two, her speculations clear on the reflection of her eyes.

"He's the kind of brother that would stuff your head in his sweaty armpit for not complimenting his new hairdo."

"Ah."

Henrietta shrugged. She was never mad at Chaddick for treating her that way, it was just the way it is. Her lunch with him was no different than her lunch with him back home. He poked her ribs, she doubted his talent, he called her a chicken, she pinched his ears. They bickered and argued back and forth but managed to laugh and snort along the way, as well. She couldn't see herself having a romance with the boy who would shamelessly fart in front of her and admit to clenching his buttocks in front of other girls.

"Still, maybe you'd be the one to understand Chaddick better than the fairest one. Just like Queen Agatha!" Mildred chirped. Henrietta laughed, gracefully swaying towards the window of their room. She leaned against the windowsill.

Her eyes rested on the Evil school, glowing darkly across the bay. She could only wonder about what was on the other side. The one thing she wondered the most was about the leader of the witch coven, the Fourth-Year Captain. She wanted to see the tattoo for herself, the tattoo that haunted Chaddick in the last two Trial by Tales. She wanted to see Hester.

"I don't think so, milady."