Return to the Isle of the Lost - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,2

royal beast-head crest on its right-hand pocket.

“Don’t you mean kick the ribbon?” Mal teased, but Ben didn’t laugh back. She knew he took his royal responsibilities very seriously, and he meant to be a king for all of Auradon—sidekicks and villainy offspring included.

“Text you later?” Ben tugged at a lock of her hair.

“Not if I text you first,” she promised.

Mal did a little more work, but stopped when she heard her phone buzz in her backpack. Thinking it was Ben, she picked it up, but it was a text from an unknown number instead. Strange. She clicked it open and read the message.

Go back where you belong.

Excuse me? she sent. What’s this all about? She looked around suspiciously, but the library was full of Auradon students diligently working on their Virtues and Values term papers on computer terminals or else absorbed in their Kindness and Decency reading. This week’s assignment was Snow White’s How to Keep a Happy Home for a Family of Seven (Dwarfs Optional).

Mal looked back down at her phone, waiting to see what would happen next, a pit growing in her stomach. There was no reply for a long time, then the little wand at the bottom of her screen began to show sparks, which indicated that the recipient was typing a reply. Finally it appeared on her screen:

You must return to the Isle of the Lost at once! Before the new moon rises!

Who is this? she texted back, more irritated than scared.

You know who I am.

I’m M…

There was no more. Just “M.” Who was M? Mal stared at the screen. Who demanded that she return to the Isle of the Lost? And why did she have to return before the new moon rose? And when would that be, anyway?

Mal could think of a few M’s in her life, but there was only one M that mattered the most. The big one. Maleficent. Could her mother be communicating to her through text? She might be sitting in her lizard-size prison right now, but she was still the greatest evil fairy who had ever lived. Anything was possible, she supposed.

Of course Maleficent would want Mal to go home. Her mother had only planned to escape the Isle of the Lost because its invisible barrier kept her from her magic. She despised Auradon and its pretty forests and enchanted rivers. If Maleficent had succeeded in her vengeful plot, the entire kingdom would be as gloomy, dark, and wretched as the Forbidden Fortress by now. In other words, darker than anything her friends at Auradon Prep could imagine….

That was not something she could ever let happen.

Mal read the mysterious text again, apprehension making her heart beat faster. She collected her things, determined to find her friends so they could help her figure out what was going on.

Mal had a feeling that her sweet life in Auradon was about to turn rotten.

Jay was used to dodging angry shopkeepers and furious bazaar merchants as they watched their precious wares disappear into the hands of the fast-moving thief in the red beanie and purple-and-yellow vest, so playing tourney was much easier than that. At least he didn’t have to dodge rotten tomatoes and threats of dismemberment as he zigzagged his way to the goal, trying to keep away from the red-and-white-striped painted “kill zone” in the middle of the field. It was a perfect afternoon for practice, the sky a cloudless blue, the trees bordering the field lush and green. The stands were empty save for a few students hanging out with friends or doing homework, and the cheerleaders in their yellow T-shirts and blue skirts were having their own practice by the sidelines.

When the ground beneath him began to shake, Jay ignored it and ran left, caught the puck in his stick, and ducked past the loaded cannons, tumbling as he whipped the puck right into the net. He raised his arms in victory, skidding to a stop on his knees just as the rumbling vibrations ceased. A slow, satisfied smile grew on his face. His long dark hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, and sweat drenched his uniform. Earthquakes didn’t scare him; nothing could stop him from running as fast as he could toward a goal.

All his life, he’d had to use his fleet feet and lightning-quick reflexes to nab items to fill the shelves of his father’s junk shop, at the expense of others. But here at Auradon Prep, his talents got him a coveted varsity spot on