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dance-is-life27 · 51 minutes

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CYOA: Endurance Game

(read the previous section here)

You swallow back a really, really inappropriate giggle. “Carefully.”

Over the roar of the crowd, Evie eyeballs you. “Carefully.”

You let the sharp grin that’s been threatening to take over your face slip free. “Yeah. Really, really carefully.”

“I trust you with my life, Mal, but you have the worst plans,” Evie hisses, before turning back to the crowd gathered below, the one made up of kids who aren’t going to have to grow up like you did. Kids who are going to have a future because of you.

You’re not a perfect politician yet, (and oh, you can just hear Ben laughing about that understatement already), but you have half a plan and a hell of a lot of angry kids backing you up, and if you know one thing about the Auradon gossip chain, it’s that once something goes on TV, it’s out there forever.

Good luck taking it back now, High Council.

The kids are getting off.

“You could have told me what you were planning, you know,” Ben says later, ensconced in the conference room where you’ve set up your crew. “I would have backed you up.”

You lean back in your chair and throw another handful of blueberries into your mouth. “I didn’t know I was going to do it. It just sort of slipped out.”

“You said you had a plan.” Evie points out. “Lying to us all isn’t the way to start your reign as queen, M. We all would’ve appreciated a little warning.”

“I didn’t know.” you repeat. Again. It’s not like you’ve been having this conversation since you stepped off the Isle, or anything. “I meant to read the speech like we planned, I swear. I wasn’t planning on changing the whole plan. I just…”

You saw the kids. You’re pouring all of the funding that the Bureau for Isle Affairs will give you into improving living conditions while Ben works with the high council to get programs set up to remove the kids safely, but you saw their faces all looking up at you, and the part of you that’s especially like Maleficent kicked in and screamed that these are your people.

You’re not exactly a fairy godmother, but there’s something to be said for fairies and wish-based magic, and your current theory is that the force of all the wishes that the kids have never even had the opportunity to dream of before sort of took hold. A wicked fairy-godmother kind of thing. The Isle is your home for better or for worse, and the magic that runs in your blood likes to latch on to things. Places. Like the moorlands that you’ve technically inherited from your mother, and the island that you called home for most of your life, even though they’re both awful places to live.

Actually, knowing the rules of magic now, (don’t breathe too deep when the pixie dust comes out, and always have faith in your own ability to not fuck things up) it wouldn’t surprise you if there’s some sort of ancient magic tying you to all the shitty, swampy places in the kingdoms.

You’lll have to investigate that thought more. Moor. Swamps.

Later.

“I think it was magic,” you finish. “It didn’t feel like me saying it. It felt like something else was guiding me.”

Your friends are staring like you’ve grown an extra head.

“Um, Mal?” Carlos asks. “Did you know you’re sort of–?”

“What?”

He shrugs.

“What?” you demand. “Tell me or I’ll fill all your shoes with glitter again.”

Evie steps forward and lays a hand on your arm. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m what? No I’m not. That’s ridiculous. I’m not a fucking pixie.”

Evie holds out her mirror. “You are. Here, look.”

“What the fuck.” you snap, pulling back reflexively. Glowing magical mirrors aren’t a good thing in your books, but Evie grabs your arm before you can recoil too hard and pushes her mirror in your face again.

“Look! The mirror isn’t in magic mode, it’s just a regular mirror right now. You’re the one who’s glowing.”

“Like you’re a lightning bug’s butt,” Carlos snickers. “Like you took a glowstick transfusion.”

You look. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean you appreciate him saying it. You’re glowing from the inside out, a soft pink-y light that looks like your blood is lighting up under your skin. Like it’s been replaced with the juice from a glow stick, or like you took a bath in Evie’s glow paint experiments.

“Evie?”

Evie’s hand on your arm tightens just a fraction. “Yeah, babe?”

“I’m not joking about that magic feeling. I think this is what my powers want me to do.”

“I know.”

“It feels…” You make a grasping gesture. Your actions today felt right, in a deeply satisfying, completely intangible way that’s a little bit concerning and a lot more comforting in the way that you’ve learned comes along with using your magic for good. “Good. It feels right. I think this might be why I’ve been here all along.”

“To glow in one of the castle conference rooms,” Carlos says, nodding. “It all makes sense now.”

“No, dumbass. To fix the isle. I think maybe the reason we were chosen–” you glance at Ben. He knows that you dreamed about him before you came over, and you know that he dreamed of you too, without knowing who you were. Magic, before you were supposed to be able to access any. In a very literal sense you’re here in Auradon because Ben chose you four, but in a larger universe sense, it would be fitting if you were brought here because an intangible magical sense drove Ben to pick your crew in particular to come to Auradon first. “I think we were chosen because the magic knows that we’re going to fix things.”

You glance around the room. You’re pretty sure that this is right, but your crew seems less than certain. Evie’s still holding on to your arm like she thinks you’re a flight risk, and the boys are all staring at you with varying degrees of skepticism. Except Ben, but that’s only because he’s a sweetheart and his default expression when he’s concerned is a smile. He’s like Evie that way, in that they’ve both been taught to hide their feelings behind looking pretty for the public.

“Not to ruin the moment,” Jay says slowly. “but should we maybe consult with FG about the whole glowing skin thing?”

You close your eyes, which thankfully aren’t glowing yet too. “No. We don’t have time for that right now. We have to make a plan for getting the kids off the isle.”

“Well, we could start with four,” Evie suggests. “And maybe bring them over in batches. Just a few at a time. Like we planned?”

You shake her off. You need to pace. “It’s not enough.”

“Mal–”

“It’s not enough!” you say, because it’s not. “We need to get them out before our parents can retaliate. If we do this carefully, we can pull kids out in larger groups. I’m not saying we take everyone at once, but we can do more than four at a time. We’re better than that.”

Evie pinches the bridge of her nose for one second, like she’s got a headache coming on. Only she’s been doing it intermittently since your announcement so… maybe she has a point with the whole logistical difficulty thing.

“Okay. If we bring a van over instead of a limo, we can fit thirteen kids each trip. We have about two hundred applications, so if we divide that, we get sixteen trips, give or take. We don’t have the space to fit more kids in my castle, so we’ll need places for them to stay.”

Ben raises his hand. “I can help with that. My parents have a summer castle they don’t use most of the time. We can send the kids there temporarily, until we can find different places for them to stay.”

“Can we put them with Auradonian families?” Evie wonders out loud. “Some of them already have family here. Cousins, grandparents, we could push for quick kinship placements. Dizzy’s already agreed to meet her cousins.”

“They don’t want us.” Carlos says, after they all digest the thought for a second. “They’re the ones who got rid of us in the first place. You think anybody wants a bunch of isle kids they’ve never met before living in their house?

He’s probably right.

“I don’t care,” you growl. “They don’t get to throw us away again. We’re not a problem they can just ignore until we go away. If we bring over all the kids, they can’t just lock us up in boarding schools and ignore the root problem.”

Your’re aware that your eyes are glowing, but it’s hard to care when you’re right and you know it.

Jay leans over the table. “Woah there, killer. Not that I disagree with anything you just said, but you're doing the magic eyes thing again and the last time you did that we lost curtain privileges, remember?”

The last time you had this much magic burning through your veins, you burned a hole in the curtains of your dorm room, set off every smoke alarm on the floor, and had to use a fire extinguisher to put out your hair.

“I’m–” You take a deep breath. If you set another pair of curtains on fire, you’ll lose valuable planning time putting it out. You’ve gotta keep your cool. “Whatever. We can’t let the people of Auradon turn their backs on us again. The kids deserve better than that. We’re going to get them something better.”

“A school.”

You whirl around towards Ben. “What?”

He lifts his hands. “I was just– thinking out loud. You guys don’t like going to school here because people are mean to you, right?”

“We’re villains.” Evie says immediately. “We’re wicked. We’re not supposed to be likable.”

“No, I know that. I just meant, you’re afraid the Auradon families will bully the new VKs, right?”

Are you? Feelings aren’t your strong suit.

“Sure,” you say anyway, because what the hell, maybe you are afraid. You’re reluctant to throw the new kids to the wolves, that’s for sure. Maybe wanting better for the kids coming after you is something you can use for emotional leverage. You didn’t have anyone but each other to watch your backs, so–

Oh. You didn’t have anyone.

That’s a thought you’re going to just shove down and unpack later. Or never. Never would be good. You’re totally, completely acclimated to Auradon now. No need to worry about the constant anxiety you feel about only having four people in your corner. You’ve got four whole people on your side now, and they’re conveniently all right here in this room! No need to remember what it was like to be sixteen and squinting into the sun for the first time as you lined up to meet a literal prince and move into a school with prissy princesses who were primed and ready to hate you for everything your parents did. No need to remember that at all. You didn’t need to protect yourself then, because you had each other, and you don’t need to worry about protecting the kids you’re bringing over now, because they won’t be walking into the same thing. You won’t let them walk out unprepared.

Maybe this is the feeling that Ben’s talking about.

“So we get around the problem by setting up a summer school!” Ben is saying. “A place where the VKs coming off the isle can stick together and all learn how to choose goodness. Sort of like a training camp, only we could make it fun. A place where you can support each other.”

“Goodness camp,” Jay offers. “Like remedial goodness, but not shitty?”

Ben flashes him a smile. “Yeah. And then as we find families, the kids will have had a chance to adjust with their friends already, so it’ll be less of a culture shock.”

“It’s got potential,” Evie admits. “I think we could bring the kids over in batches, so long as we know they’ll all have a place to stay. We can rent the school vans, and do a convoy sort of thing. Get enough kids to have a cohort, so they can learn together before we set them loose on the larger public. I think we could make this work, you guys.”

“And our parents don’t have to know when we’re picking them up.” Carlos adds. “Keeps us safer that way. We could use the message boards that Dragon Hall set up to send them coded pickup times, so the adults never know when we’ll be there. They can't retaliate at us directly for taking all their kid labor if they don’t know when we’re in and out of the barrier.”

Evie’s nodding. “We can leave messages with Facilier too. He wants his daughters out, he’d help us get there in secret.”

“I’ll call the council,” Ben offers. “We have a location, and a plan, and if you four are all on board, I’ll vouch for you.”

“You dad won’t flip out?”

Ben shrugs. “He will. But it doesn’t matter,” he smiles, and it’s like the sun coming out. “He’s not the king.”

You get the children out.

It takes a slow start, but you get them out. You pull them off in vans and trucks and barges, at five in the morning while the rest of the isle is sleeping, and at noon when the bright cover of the sun on the water obscures your movements. You pick the first group up before dawn, and they stumble into the vans in the gray light of the isle, and tumble out into the pink dawn of Auradon morning.

You bring Dizzy back to Evie’s house, because you built a place for her there and it seems like a shame to let it go to waste.

You bring all the kids back to Evie’s house for dinner, and they demolish her beautiful white kitchen and leave it feeling more like home than the expensive interior design team ever could.

You get the children out.

You keep getting them out, day after day after day, until one day you get a message from your contact at Dragon Hall.

Zero children waiting for pickup.

You did it. The children of the Isle are free.

The End

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