That shook Uma from her laughing fit. “Mal!” she called, rushing to the railing’s edge. “Mal! Where are you? Are you okay?” Uma craned her neck, searching the churning waters for a
sign of her friend.
Her heart stopped, for she couldn’t catch sight of Mal’s purple head anywhere in the waves, and while Maleficent might find it amusing that her daughter had landed in the drink, she would not take too kindly to the news that her one and only spawn was gone forever.
“Mal! Where are you?” Uma cried, a little desperately now.
Uma felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to see Mal standing there, totally dry. “You didn’t fall in!” she cried in relief.
“I caught a wooden rung right before I fell,” said Mal sweetly.
“You’re all right!”
“Yes, I’m okay,” said Mal with a sugary smile that suddenly turned evil. “But you’re not!” she yelled, and before Uma could blink, Mal reached behind her back and dumped a huge bucket of smelly and disgusting baby shrimps all over Uma’s head. Turned out Mal had scampered back up on the docks just in time to see the goblins unloading the latest catch from the barge. Furious at her friend for laughing at her bad luck, Mal decided to create a little bad luck herself.
Uma screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
Sadly, the smell never quite left Uma’s hair, no matter how many times she washed it.
Much worse, Mal’s nickname for her caught on, and from that fateful day forward, everyone called Uma “Shrimpy” behind her back.
Except for Mal, of course, who called Uma Shrimpy to her face.
From the sandbox to the doomball courts, the animosity between the two girls festered and bubbled over the years—especially during rival super-sinister-thirteen birthday parties, which they scheduled on the same night. Somehow, Mal always ended up on top.
But Uma knew the day would come when she would beat Mal at her own game.
One fine day…
Three years later, that day had not yet come. Especially not after the shiny black limousine drove up to the Isle of the Lost. Uma had never seen a car like that—the only means of transportation on the island were rickshaws pulled by goblins, old skateboards, and rusty bikes. It was clear limousines were more than just cars; they were moving cocoons of luxury, decked out in buttery leather seats and filled to the brim with sugary drinks and snacks.
So what was it doing here of all places, on this forgotten island of villains?
The young sea witch elbowed her way to the front of the gaping crowd so she could get a better look at what was happening. At sixteen she was small for her age, but more than made up for it by cutting a striking figure. She wore her turquoise hair in a river of long braids that fell down her back, and was partial to patchwork leather dresses and low boots decorated with fishing nets and seashells. Truly, Uma was one of the head-turners on the island, not that she cared. Uma had bigger fish to fry—literally, since she worked at her mom’s Fish and Chips Shoppe.
The assembled group of louts, toughs, and goons (otherwise known as the population of the island) were oohing and ahhing at the sight of the marvelous automobile. No one had any idea why it was there, or what it meant, but before a riot broke out among the villainous ranks, the door to Maleficent’s castle opened and Evie, Carlos, and Jay walked out carrying luggage, followed by their parents.
“Bring home the gold!” yelled Jafar.
“Bring home a puppy!” urged Cruella De Vil.
“Bring home a prince!” Evil Queen cried.
Uma nudged the fellow on the left. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Are they leaving?”
The henchman nodded, barely concealed envy on his face. “Rumor has it they’re going to Auradon.”
“Auradon? Why?” said Uma, appalled and intrigued at the same time.
“To go to school. Some kind of new proclamation or something. They’ve been chosen to attend Auradon Prep.”
Carlos, Jay, and Evie trooped into the car.
“Is anyone else going?” Uma asked, just as a fourth villain kid burst through the castle doors. An annoyed-looking Mal handed her backpack to the driver.