"Excuse me, I'm Minerva Smirt from the New York City Department of Child Welfare," Ms. Smirt said, pounding impatiently on a bell that sat on the counter of the school office. Two middle-aged secretaries were busy spraying bug spray at something in the far corner of the room. The one with the thick glasses leaned down and smacked whatever it was with a magazine, while the chubby one stomped on it like an Irish folk dancer.

"I think it's dead," the chubby one said as she bent over to get a better look.

Smirt rang the bell again, and the two women looked at her as if she had just come in with a flamethrower.

"I'm in a hurry," the caseworker said. "I need to enroll these two orphans."

"We are not orphans!" Sabrina and Daphne said. Ms. Smirt pinched them each on the shoulder for arguing with her.

The bespectacled secretary crossed the room and snatched the bell away. Once she had tossed it into a drawer, she looked up at the caseworker and frowned.

"I'll see if our guidance counselor, Mr. Sheepshank, is available," she said as she eyed the children in bewilderment. Shaking her head, she stepped over to a door and knocked on it lightly.

"Sir, we have some new students… I think," the secretary said, turning back and eyeing the girls' odd hairdos.

"Yes! Yes! Please bring them in," a happy voice called. The secretary ushered the trio into the office and closed the door.

Mr. Sheepshank was a little man dressed in a green suit and a bow tie with smiley faces on it. He had a round, full, friendly face with freckled cheeks as red as his hair. When he smiled, little wrinkle lines formed in the corners of his glittering eyes.

"Good morning, ladies. I'm Casper Sheepshank, your school counselor," the man said cheerily. "Welcome to Ferryport Landing Elementary."

Mr. Sheepshank took Ms. Smirt's hand in his and shook it vigorously. The caseworker blushed; and she did something Sabrina had never seen before: She smiled.

"I'm Minerva… Minerva Smirt from the New York City Department of Child Welfare," she said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the guidance counselor replied. "And who are these lovely ladies?"

"Introduce yourselves, girls," Ms. Smirt said, giggling.

"I'm Sabrina Grimm," Sabrina said. Sheepshank seized her hand and gave her the same joint-jarring treatment he had given to Ms. Smirt.

"I'm Daphne Grimm," Daphne chirped.

"Grimm? You wouldn't happen to be related to Henry Grimm?" the counselor asked.

"He's our dad," Sabrina said.

"He went to school here with us, too," Mr. Sheepshank said. "I remember him quite clearly. He was always getting into trouble. I assume I can expect more of the same from the two of you?"

Unsure of how to respond, the girls said nothing. After a long, uncomfortable pause Sheepshank chuckled and winked at Sabrina. "Just a joke, ladies. Your father was a model student."

"The girls were in my custody for a year and a half until we placed them here in Ferryport Landing with their grandmother, Relda," Ms. Smirt explained. "Unfortunately, Mrs. Grimm has not taken their educations seriously and they've been out of school for a month."

"Better late than never." The counselor laughed as he pulled some paperwork out of a desk drawer, and began to write.

" Casper," Ms. Smirt said, unbuttoning the top button of her shirt. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I didn't warn you about these two. They are quite a handful. I tried to place them in good homes more than a dozen times, and each time it ended in chaos and grief. Nothing was ever good enough for them. They ran away from one foster home just because they were asked to help around the house."

"It wasn't a house! It was a stable," Sabrina said defensively.

"A pony got into my suitcase and ate all my underpants," Daphne added.

"They're also very argumentative," Ms. Smirt said, reaching under the desk and giving each girl a hard pinch on the leg.

"Well, Ms. Smirt," Mr. Sheepshank said, smiling warmly at the girls. "Here at Ferryport Landing Elementary we like to set our sights on the future. Our motto is 'Everyone deserves a second chance.'"

"Well, I'll tell you, Casper, as a professional who's worked with children for almost twenty years, I'd say a second chance is the last thing a child needs. What most of them need is a swift kick in the…"

"Thanks for the warning, Ms. Smirt," the counselor interrupted.

"Please, call me Minerva," the skinny woman purred. "You'll need their transcripts of course. I could bring them up Friday. It's just a two-hour trip. Maybe we could discuss their files over dinner."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Mr. Sheepshank blushed and then shuffled some papers on his desk.

"Bring them up? All the way from New York City? That's not necessary. Just drop them in the mail when you get a chance," he said, staring down at his paperwork. "Well, I better get these girls started. I trust you can find your way out, Ms. Smirt?"

The caseworker shifted in her chair and her face turned red with frustration. "Of course," she said. She reached into her handbag and took out a card. "Here's my card if you need any help with them. My home phone is on there, too."

Sabrina gazed down at the caseworker's handbag. When she spotted a book entitled Finding Mr. Right, the unsettling truth about what she was witnessing revealed itself. Ms. Smirt was flirting. An image of the two grown-ups kissing burned into Sabrina's permanent memory and she shuddered as if she had just witnessed a car crash.

But what was really bothering Sabrina was the odd feeling forming in her own heart. She felt pity for the cranky old woman. Sabrina might not have had much experience with boys, but it was obvious Mr. Sheepshank wasn't into Ms. Smirt, even though the caseworker kept on trying.

"Well, Susie… Debbie, I'm off," the skinny woman said as she got up from her chair.

"Sabrina," Sabrina said. Her sympathy vanished.

"Daphne," Daphne added.

Ms. Smirt stopped and turned at the door. "Maybe we'll talk again, Casper…"

Mr. Sheepshank smiled but said nothing. He only stared at her as if he were a deer caught in front of a speeding truck. After several way-too-long, painful moments of silence, Ms. Smirt stepped into the hallway.

"Be good girls," the caseworker said as she closed the door. "Or I'll be back."

"Well, I suppose we should get you two to class," said Mr. Sheepshank as he rose from his desk and led them back into the hallway. "Ladies, the first day of school can be difficult for some students. But I want you to know that if there are any bumps in the road-for example, someone you can't get along with or a teacher who's given you too much homework-then I'm the man to come to. Feel free to stop by my office anytime you want. My job is to listen and my door is always open."

Sabrina liked Sheepshank's attitude. She'd been in a dozen schools in the last two years and no one had ever spoken to her the way their new counselor did. While everyone else lectured about learning responsibility and the value of hard work, he seemed to understand how hard it was to be a kid.

"Mr. Sheepshank!" a man shouted from the other end of the hall. He had a German accent not unlike Granny Relda's. "We are due for a conversation!"

The man rushed toward them. He was a tall, dark-haired man in a gray suit. He had a long, lean, ruddy face that made his crooked nose look enormous. Because he was upset, his big bushy eyebrows bounced around on his forehead like excited caterpillars.

"Children, this is your principal, Mr. Hamelin," the guidance counselor said, ignoring the man's frustration. "Mr. Hamelin, I'd like to introduce you to our new students, Sabrina and Daphne Grimm."

"My grandmother says hello," Daphne said.

Principal Hamelin cocked an eyebrow, aware now that the girls knew who he really was. Granny Relda had told them there were two Everafters working at Ferryport Landing Elementary: Snow White, who was a teacher, and the principal, aka "The Pied Piper of Hamelin." The girls knew his story. Using his magical bagpipes, Hamelin had enchanted a thousand rats to follow him out of town and into the ocean, where they drowned. Granny had explained that Hamelin had gotten his job based on his leadership skills. If he could lead a bunch of rodents, he could handle a school full of kids.