Free The Nightmare Charade by Mindee Arnett

shirts, were walking various leashed animals across the lawn. One of the creatures resembled a salamander, except it was bright red with a steady stream of smoke issuing out from its ears and nostrils. Another looked like a rabbit with antlers. Yet a third was a baby lynx, small, furry, and adorable, but with yellow eyes glowing with magic.
    â€œNo need to worry,” Ms. Miller said over our excited whispers. “Only class C animals are allowed on the lawn and never without a leash and handler.”
    â€œClass C?” someone asked from behind me.
    â€œThose deemed relatively harmless and with only mildly aggressive tendencies,” said Ms. Miller.
    â€œThat’s comforting,” I whispered to Selene. She made a strangled noise deep in her throat, half amusement, half dismay.
    We crossed the lawn and continued down a wide walkway. On the left was a row of stone stables. On the right were a series of greenhouses, each with thick-paned glass and domed roofs. Signs stood out front of each building, bearing labels of the same classification system Ms. Miller had mentioned.
    The stables and greenhouses gave way to a courtyard area. Roughly square in shape, it was surrounded on three sides by zoo-like cages, each containing a unique environment. One held water features, a pool, and several streams running in between grassy banks. Tall trees and climbing structures filled another. The third featured a cave environment. It was completely closed in, gloomy and full of large rocks. Several of those rocks had openings in them, small tunnels barely large enough for a human to crawl inside. Old food and other rubbish lined the floor. Some of it looked like pieces of bone.
    To my surprise, there was a human inside the cage, another Menagerie worker in a green polo shirt. He was sweeping the stone floor with a push broom. He glanced up as the class gathered around. For a second, as he swept his gaze over us, he paused on me. A look like recognition crossed his face. I didn’t know him, not even a little. He had short brown hair and a long scraggly beard that obscured most of his features, all except for a beaked nose.
    I frowned, wondering at that look.
    â€œThis area is where we will be spending the first few weeks of class,” Ms. Miller said, motioning toward the three cages. Then she pointed to the rocky one. “Can anyone guess what sort of creature lives in this environment?”
    No one answered at first, none of us certain what kind of teacher Ms. Miller would prove to be—the kind that would encourage us toward the right answer or make us feel stupid for guessing wrong.
    Finally, Oliver Cork raised his hand. We all turned to stare at him as he answered. Oliver was a dryad, tall and thin with light brown skin. “Is it trash trolls?”
    Ms. Miller smiled, revealing a set of uneven teeth. “You are correct. This is one of several dens for Arkwell’s trash trolls. Every large food waste bin you see in the cafeteria and other places is set over a tunnel that leads back to the Menagerie. We will be studying trash trolls in depth this semester.”
    I stifled a groan at this news. Trash trolls were tiny, malicious creatures that resembled feral Mr. Potato Heads with pointy teeth and sharp claws. The Arkwell student guide warned to never put your hand in a trash can unless you felt like donating a finger or two.
    â€œBut first,” Ms. Miller said. “I will show you to the laboratory we will be using for the lecture portion of our classes.”
    And with that, she led us off to the Menagerie’s main building, a tall fortress-like structure, located roughly in the middle of the complex. We spent the rest of the hour getting familiar with the equipment and leafing through our new textbooks before Ms. Miller escorted us out to the main gates once again.
    On the way, I spotted that same Menagerie worker with the beard and beaked nose, this time mucking out one of the cages on