Chapter 7

"Try again."

Agatha sighed and readjusted her face yet again as Anemone sat opposite her, scrutinising her smile with the precision of a surgeon. The rest of the group; Reena, Millicent, and Kiko, were looking on with amusement; Agatha was getting slowly more irate as Anemone pursed her lips for the fifth time in half an hour.

"What am I doing wrong?" She snapped.

"Everything." Millicent muttered. Reena giggled. Anemone smiled patiently, but Agatha could tell that even her relentless cheer was being tested.

"Try again, dear. Don't squint as much."

The teacher had demanded that a group of them come with her to try and 'perfect their expressions', and it was safe to say Agatha was struggling. Why was there a correct way to smile?

"Reena, a demonstration!"

Reena immediately flashed a smile so dazzling that Anemone applauded.

"Beautiful! That is was you must strive to achieve, Agatha!"

Kiko let out a tiny sigh. Agatha grumbled and glanced around, bored.

"Is this really that important? Nobody can see my face from the audience."

Anemone threw her arms in the air and accidentally whacked Millicent in the nose.

"Sorry, dear- of course it is! A good smile can bring a whole new light to the character, and Sandy is naturally very cheerful!"

Professor Sheeks swished past, dumping a pile of props on a table and turning to observe.

"We didn't choose Miss Woods for her sunny disposition, Professor Anemone!"

She span to Agatha.

"Smile, Agatha!"

Agatha rolled her eyes and summoned up a bright smile. Sheeks's eyebrows shot up.

"Good God, it does need some work."

Agatha dropped the smile and scowled.

"Although that may be good for Scene 7." Sheeks mused.

"This is ridiculous." Agatha muttered, standing. "I'm going."

"Agatha-" Kiko called, but Agatha was already heading for the stage.

She stalked past the Coven, who were wrestling with a cardboard cut-out of Elvis, past Mona and Arachne who were intensely practicing lines on each other, and over to Tedros, who was being directed by Pollux.

"Stand up straight! No, not that straight, smile more - not that brightly-oh, never mind. You'll figure it out."

Tedros's composure was cracking and he frowned as Pollux bustled away. He called after him.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just act like yourself." Agatha cut in.

Tedros turned to her.

"Huh?"

You prance around like you're in a stage show most of the time. Can't be that hard."

Tedros, to her surprise, laughed.

"Okay. I'll try that, then. What did Anemone want?"

Agatha rolled her eyes.

"Apparently I can't even smile, which I certainly wasn't aware of. So that's a bit of a problem."

Tedros tilted his head, considering.

"Yeah. I don't think you're very near the character."

"Thanks."

"No, no, I just meant that Sandy's all perfect and proper, and you wear death metal shirts and get into fights with everyone. There's a bit of a contrast."

"Huh."

Feeling awkward, Agatha changed the subject.

"Why do you do this, anyway?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She huffed, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Was he really this dense?

"All your little friends do football and basketball and all that crap, but you do acting."

"Oh. I do those as well…"

Tedros shuffled his feet a bit, then answered.

"Well, I like acting and-"

His voice trailed off into an unintelligible mumble. Agatha frowned at him.

"What?"

He didn't seem to be able to meet her eyes.

"I'm hoping to go into theatre when I'm an adult."

Agatha blinked, then shrugged and nodded.

"Oh. Makes sense. By the way, you've gone beetroot."

Tedros exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His face began to return to normal colour.

"I thought you'd laugh."

"Why would I? It's reasonable enough."

"Most people expect me to inherit my father's company and estate."

Estate? Jesus. Agatha had known Tedros came from a wealthy family - everybody had heard of Arthur Pendragon- but that was pretty extensive. She glanced at the clock and started, noting the time.

"Well, you're Majesty-"

Tedros grimaced.

"Don't call me that."

Agatha ignored him and continued, picking her bag up.

"I really must get going. Revision for Biology calls, and this is finishing. "

"Okay. And, Agatha?"

"What?" She grumbled, not really paying attention.

"Your smile's not that bad."

Agatha stopped, then quickly shot a reply over her shoulder as she walked away.

"You'd be the only one to think that, Your Majesty."

She heard him sigh, but didn't turn to see his reaction- if only to hide her burning face.

Sophie trotted down the empty hall, fishing through her bag for her phone, when three people fell into step beside her.

Hester scowled at her.

"Why are you still here?"

"Why are you talking to me?" Sophie shot back, avoiding the question.

If these three knew that it was because avoiding her father had become a priority after his unprecedented announcement, it would be the end of her reputation. Everyone would know that Sophie was about to become stepdaughter to the most ghastly woman-

"Sophie, are you listening?" Anadil snapped. Sophie pulled her sunglasses off, eyeing the girl with annoyance.

"Sorry, darling. I filter out negativity, and I assumed that would be what you were saying. Carry on."

"We were saying, that Hort has been working incessantly, has come up with exactly 70 different logos- all in colour and black and white- and has asked them to give them to you."

Anadil dumped a folder stuffed full of paper into a delighted Sophie's arms.

"Lovely! He works very quickly, doesn't he? I'll have them on the website by the end of this week."

"And also, Lesso told us to get you to see her." Dot said. Sophie frowned.

"When?"

"Now." Hester smirked.

"Now? But I'm going home!"

"Postpone it a little longer. Lesso said it's urgent." Anadil sneered.

Dot shoved a bag of fudge in Sophie's hand.

"This is for after, love. Good luck!"

The three sloped off, leaving Sophie clutching the designs and the fudge, bewildered and slightly nervous.

It was obvious they weren't telling her something. But what on earth could the Assistant Head want with her?

If she was honest with herself, she knew what.

But, she thought as she set off, she could still hope. A little optimism wasn't a bad thing.

She had to hope, just for once, that she was wrong.