Escape from the Isle of the Lost (Descendants 4)

Mal looked up from the paper. “Did we forget to add the Isle of the Lost to this list?” she asked.

“The Isle of the Lost?” echoed Fairy Godmother, as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

King Beast and Queen Belle shifted uncomfortably. King Beast coughed, and Queen Belle added two more lumps of sugar to her tea. When she brought the cup to her lips, it rattled against the saucer she held underneath it.

“The Isle of the Lost is Mal’s home,” Ben reminded everyone.

“Yes, it is,” said Mal. It was her duty to represent the island as much as she could, to remind everyone that there were noble hearts everywhere, and that even villain kids could grow up to be good. “And the Isle is part of Auradon, right?”

“Technically,” Fairy Godmother admitted.

“Unfortunately,” groused King Beast.

“Now, now, dear,” said Queen Belle.

“Then shouldn’t I visit the Isle as well?” she said. “Shouldn’t I go there as part of my official itinerary? I don’t want them to think they’ve been forgotten.” It was already so easy to dismiss the kids who were imprisoned on the island, punished for their parents’ evil deeds. If Ben hadn’t felt sympathy for them in the beginning, when he made his first proclamation as king, who knew where she would be now? Certainly not in a plush room in the palace eating warm scones on a porcelain plate. Most likely scrounging for leftovers in back alleys like every other Isle kid.

“Of course not,” said Ben. “We can’t forget the Isle of the Lost.”

“Let’s not make a hasty decision just yet,” said Fairy Godmother. “Why don’t we discuss it again at the next meeting of the Royal Council? Give us a little time to think it over.”

“Absolutely,” said Ben with a smile. “Besides, I’d take any excuse to have more tea and scones from Mrs. Potts.”

ay and his opponent battled up and down the mat, crashing against the walls and over every obstacle. Once the slyest thief in all the Isle of the Lost, Jay had found that it was just as much fun to score a goal in tourney or win a battle at R.O.A.R. as it was to swipe a scarf from a merchant on the plaza. Maybe even more fun, since no one chased him around angrily afterward. Whenever he put on his team’s yellow-and-blue face mask or picked up his sword for another round of swords-and-shields practice, he forgot that he had ever spent his childhood in a junk shop on a remote island. All he cared about was victory, his world narrowing to the points he scored against his fearsome opponents.

He leaped and attempted a strike, but was deflected. His opponent rushed forward and made a hit. The referee called the score. Now Jay was behind.

They went back to their places on the mat, and this time, Jay waited and let his rival come to him. He didn’t have to wait for long, and was on the defensive again, blocking strikes and cleverly dodging any attack.

At last, he found his advantage, twirled around, and landed a direct hit. The buzzer sounded, signaling that time was up, and the referee blew his whistle. “That’s the game,” the ref called. “It’s a tie!”

“Good one!” said Lonnie as she took off her mask and let her long black hair fall on her shoulders. She shook his hand.

“Thanks, Captain.” Jay grinned as he removed his mask and gloves.

There was a round of applause from a group lined up along the courtyard, watching them. “Excellent work!” said one. “Brilliant!” said another. “Bravo!” said the third.

Jay squinted in their direction. He hadn’t noticed them at the start of the match. He’d been playing for himself, not to impress anyone. “Who are they?” he asked, as he put his equipment away.

“Coaches,” said Lonnie. “It’s college visiting day, remember?”

Jay did not remember. He never kept track of dates or read announcements or e-mails. Life was too short, and he had too many fun things to do, like play video games and eat pizza.

“Go over there! They definitely want to meet you,” said Lonnie, gently pushing him in their direction.

• • •

The first coach was a muscular gentleman in a black-and-gold vest, voluminous white pants, and gold shoes with curled tips. He wore a grand white turban with a ruby in the middle and a gold stripe running around it. “Jay!” he said heartily, as if they were old friends. “I am Coach Razoul, formerly captain of the guard at the Sultan’s palace. But now I head up the athletics program at ASU—Agrabah State University.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Jay, bowing to the coach.

The coach bowed in return, seemingly pleased that Jay remembered Agrabah’s customs. “You must come and visit us sometime. Have you decided where you will continue your education? Would you consider coming home?”

Jay startled at that. While his father was from Agrabah, Jay’s home was the Isle of the Lost. But he didn’t want to embarrass Coach Razoul. “To be honest, I haven’t given it much thought yet.” Graduation was still a few months away. He didn’t have to decide where to go to college yet, did he? Definitely not.

“Jay!” said the next coach, a big bear of a guy who wore the green livery of Robin Hood’s men. “Coach Little John here, from Sherwood Forest University. We’d love to see you play for the Arrows.” He handed Jay a card. “We’re ranked number one in the league.”

“For archery,” said Coach Razoul, wagging his finger. “Not R.O.A.R.”