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Astris’s whiskers trembled with distress. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Is that what they’re teaching you? I’m not sure I approve. It seems, well, human. It’s certainly dangerous. What if you get hit by a stray spell and get stuck that way?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like that’s going to happen! First of all, I’m under double protection—the Lady’s and the school’s. Second of all, I’m a mortal. Changing how I look doesn’t change who I am. Third of all, I’m already mean and ugly, so I might as well go with it.”

Then I ran upstairs to my room, slammed the door, crawled into bed, and drew the curtains closed around me.

Unfortunately, Folk aren’t good at taking hints. And being my fairy godmother made Astris even more hint-deaf than she was naturally. I hardly had time for one good sob before I heard the hinges creak and her claws scurrying across the stone floor. I hastily wiped my face on the pillow.

Her whiskers brushed my cheek. “You’re not ugly, pet,” Astris said in my ear. “And you’re not really mean. You’re just at an awkward age.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

I put all the sarcasm I could into it, but Astris is also sarcasm-deaf. “Good,” she said briskly. “How would you like to attend the Hallowe’en Revels as a Swedish troll maiden? They’re scary, but in a good way. I’ll glamour you a tail and a false nose, and Pepperkaka can lend you her apron and her felt hat.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “Glamours are against the rules,” I mumbled.

“We’ll use rope.” Astris jumped off the bed, leaving me feeling worse than ever.

During Basic Manners next morning, I kept my head down, answering when the Diplomat asked me something, but otherwise focusing my attention on not breaking Rules 132 (Students must not be snarky) and 386 (Students must be polite at all times). As a result, I got yelled at for breaking Rule 242 (The very difficult Students must not play with their hair—although I was actually chewing on it) and failing to cultivate a pleasant expression. Also for not paying attention to the lesson, but that was getting to be a chronic condition.

I spent most of the lesson sorting beans and rice.

The big news at lunch was that Stonewall had talked to Espresso.

She’d been on the Chinatown bus as usual, reading up on dryads, when Stonewall squeezed into the seat beside her. Which was way weird, because Stonewall never took the bus.

“It was jive, man,” Espresso said. “No ‘How are you’ or ‘Sorry I was such a jerk’ or anything like that. Just, ‘We gotta talk.’ I told him to am-scray.”

Fortran’s eyes were round black marbles. “Did he go away?”

“He just kept on pitching me all this hype about meeting everybody at the Mansion after school.”

My stomach clenched. “Everybody except me, right?”

“He said you in particular. And Airboy, which blew my mind. Anyway, I said I’d rather have tea with King Kong. He was glum, chum. Like, what did he expect?”

Since nobody had an answer to this, we took out our lunches and swapped around. Nobody wanted any of my pease porridge, but Mukuti gave me some saag paneer anyway. Fortran tried to cheer up Espresso by describing all the wizard things the Magic Tech was planning for the Haunted House. I poked at my food and wondered what was up with Stonewall.

Maybe he was sorry he’d been such a troll. I hoped he was sorry. I almost wished Espresso hadn’t blown him off so I could listen to him apologize and then tell him to go turn into a frog. If he apologized. Which he wouldn’t. Like I’d never apologized to Airboy. Not that he’d given me a chance.

I might as well have skipped Mortal History for all I learned about the Dead Rabbit Riots in the Bowery. The Historian reminded me, sharply, that a quest pass was a privilege, not a right, and could be revoked at any time on the recommendation of my tutors. In the end, he didn’t punish me, although he did say I was skating on thin ice.

It felt like I’d already fallen through.

When the last horn finally ended my torture, I headed downstairs, intending to go straight home.

In the front hall, Airboy appeared at my elbow. “Hi.