Avendale seemed *very* quiet. Annalinde could not remember when she had seen it so quiet. Great Liza, the huge clock on the old Bell Tower had just struck the hour, and now as her sonorous ringing tones died away the silence was almost deafening. Annalinde wondered if she was the only girl back from hols yet. She was a few days early, of course; but usually there was *someone* about. Annalinde smiled at Great Liza. She seemed like an old friend. Annalinde had been at Avendale since she was eleven. Now she was nearly seventeen and wore the coveted prefects' badge and sash (she was a blonde, of course. Brunettes don't wear sashes). She sat on the grass beneath a spreading oak tree, her knees drawn up to her chest, just as she had sat when she was a little girl. She knew it wasn't the most ladylike way for a nearly-grown-up blonde to sit - but then there was no one to see her. Veronica would have told her off in her indulgent-to-blondes Veronica-ish way, but even Veronica didn't seem to be here yet. Avendale without Veronica. Imagine that! But not for long, she was sure. She looked up at dear Old Liza. She had chimed every hour and every half-hour and every quarter-hour of the countless hours she had spent in these precincts. The happy hours and the sad ones. The heart-wrenching crushes on older brunettes. The desperate last-minute swotting for exams. The terribly funny jokes - many of them seemed quite childish now, but they were *still* very funny. The fearful minutes waiting outside a mistress's study for punishment. The dreary times when she had long written punishments to complete. The outings to the Cinema and the soda-fountain at Avendale town some half-mile away (you could *just* hear Old Liza from there - she remembered the time she and several other third-formers heard her and realised they only had a quarter of an hour to get back before their exeat expired. Far too late, of course. She remembered how they laughed and sang on the way back, all the time their hearts sinking at the punishment to come. It seemed like a fond memory now, though she'd never have predicted it at the time. She remembered the time Old Liza had started striking thirteen at midnight. A clock expert had come in to examine the old girl and pronounced there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. But she went on striking thirteen. Then they discovered that Angela Myrtle - then an Upper Sixth prefect with her own private room - had been shooting the bell with an air gun each night after the twelfth stroke. Angela was gone now. There was a time when school without Angela would have seemed as strange as school without Veronica. But now Angela was at Milchford and already making a name for herself as a young poetess. Perhaps not too long from now, Annalinde would meet Angela at Milchford. But that seemed a million miles away now. Old Liza chimed the quarter. Avendale was the world. Surely there wasn't *really* another. 3 From: Kadorienne Date: Fri Sep 3, 1999 3:28pm Subject: First Day of School Veronica Bellemont straightened her tie with military precision and meticulously pinned the prefect's badge to it. She swelled with pride as she did it. She hadn't worn her badge or her uniform all summer, after all. It felt good to be back in the grey skirt and white blouse, and as for the badge, well, fifteen was rather young to be a prefect, so she had every right to be proud of it. She turned around in front of the mirror, examining her uniform carefully for any flaws. That wouldn't do for the first day back at school, especially for a prefect. A prefect had to set an example. The other day when she had first arrived and was unpacking, she had looked out her window and saw one of the prefects, a blonde named Annalinde, sitting under the oak tree in a very sloppy fashion. She would have to speak to her about it when she had a chance. Still, she was certain Annalinde hadn't *meant* to be undecorous. That just wasn't in a blonde's nature. But not always thinking about things *was* in a blonde's nature, which was why brunettes had to remind them. She straightened a very slight crookedness in the seams of her stockings. She still had a little bit of trouble with them, not being out of knee-length socks for very long. Having satisfied herself that her uniform was in perfect order, she glanced around to make sure her little room was also in order. Her books were lined up neatly on the shelf, books by Baroness Orczy and Schiller and other authors of the days of chivalry. Her comb and wooden hairbrush -- an implement put to many uses -- were the only things on her dresser. Her desk was similarly pristine, but she knew that wouldn't last; in a week it would be covered with pages of notes and schoolbooks and pencils as she spent her evenings "swotting", as the Altalians said. The prefect's cane was propped in a corner where it would be seen by any girl who came in the room, a reminder of Veronica's authority. Finally Veronica set off for breakfast. As always, the first breakfast of the year was noisy and exciting, as friends who hadn't seen each other for months greeted each other with squeals of delight. Veronica joined in, but never forgot that she was a prefect. When she noticed a brunette teasing a blonde by taking her notebook away and holding it out of the blonde's reach, she simply walked over and looked at the brunette. The brunette returned it at once, saying sheepishly, "I was only teasing her for a minute." "Brunettes are supposed to protect blondes, not tease them," Veronica reminded her firmly. "Can't one do both?" the brunette asked with a grin. Veronica thought for a second. "Find out. Every day this week, you're going to carry this blonde's books for her." She walked away without bothering to observe whether the brunette considered this a burden or a blessing. Brunettes had to learn to be chivalrous to all blondes. After breakfast, at the beginning of class, came inspection. The mistresses didn't hold an inspection every morning, a fact for which most girls were very grateful. But they held them on special days, such as when grownup visitors were coming to the school, and sometimes for no reason at all and with no warning, just to keep the girls on their toes. Naturally there was one on the first day of school. Miss Maitland, the headmistress, walked up and down the rows of girls, stopping every now and then to peer at some detail of a nervous girl's uniform. Miss Maitland, at length, stopped behind a brunette named Claudia and stared at her for some time. Just when the girl was beginning to tremble, Miss Maitland asked, "How old are you?" "Sixteen, Miss." The girl was obviously petrified. "Then you've been wearing stockings long enough to be able to get the seams straight. Is this a good way to start a new year?" "No, Miss." "That's right. Fetch the paddle." "Yes, Miss." Part of the trial of being paddled was having to walk all the way to the other end of the room to get the instrument and then carry it back with all eyes on you. Claudia did this with her eyes fixed high on the wall, not looking at anyone. She stood at the front of the room, holding the paddle, until Miss Maitland at last went to her and took it. She motioned for the girl to bend over her desk, lifted the grey pleated skirt, and started paddling the girl over her slip -- petticoat, as the Altalians said, Veronica reminded herself. Claudia took the paddling bravely, Veronica noticed approvingly. Toward the end she began to make little groans, causing Veronica to frown. That wasn't how a brunette should take a paddling. When she was finished with the brunette, Miss Maitland gestured to another girl. "You, the blonde with the crooked tie." The blonde came to the front promptly, her eyes downcast. "Bend over the desk." "Yes, Miss." Veronica's lips tightened a little as the blonde's maroon skirt was raised. In general, she didn't think blondes' skirts should be raised. After all, blonde modesty must be protected. But then, surely a headmistress knew best. The first swat was delivered, and Veronica winced almost as much as its recipient. It must be so difficult for a delicate blonde to endure such a smack. The blonde didn't break position, but she did wriggle a little, and she whimpered while holding her lips pressed closed. Miss Maitland continued the paddling for long after Veronica thought that the punishment was sufficient to a blonde. At last the girl was permitted to stand and carry the paddle back to its place, and then gingerly resume her seat. Veronica listened attentively as Miss Maitland outlined the semester's curriculum and set the first night's reading assignment. She and another brunette distributed the textbooks, and then it was time for the next class. The mistress of the next class called roll, ordering each girl to stand and say, "Here, Miss," when her name was called.Veronica watched this closely; prefects need to know the girls at their school. The mistress was almost finished calling roll when she said, "Miss Elspeth Elsvetta." A very fair blonde, with flaxen hair and deep blue eyes and a shy smile, stood up. "Here, Miss," she said in a rather soft voice, and sat back down. Veronica completely missed the rest of the roll call. She was to paralyzed, unable to take her eyes off Miss Elspeth Elsvetta. She was a new girl, had to be. If she had been at Avendale before, Veronica would have noticed her. How could anyone not notice her? How could the others look at other girls, or the mistress, or out the window and not at Elspeth? Elspeth had the longest lashes Veronica had ever seen. She would have suspected the girl of wearing mascara, but her manner was too sweet and docile and blonde to be so naughty. The grace with which she opened her notebook and lifted her pencil hypnotized Veronica. The maroon gymslips might have been designed especially for Elspeth, so well did they become her. When the mistress began talking about the class, Veronica wrenched part of her attention away from Elspeth and forced herself to listen. But Elspeth remained at the center of her mind. When the class was over, she got up quickly, considering, with a pounding heart, whether she dared offer to carry Elspeth's books. How could she be so bold? They hadn't even been introduced. But then, she was a prefect. Before she could gather courage to speak, Elspeth and another blonde were in the hall, and headed in the opposite direction from Veronica's next class, to which Veronica walked in a daze. It was going to be an interesting year. 4 From: School Girl Date: Fri Sep 3, 1999 3:57pm Subject: My New School It was a cold day as I arrived at my new school. I looked at the building and sighed and stroked my long blonde hair. “I hope this school is not fully of beastly boring girls,” I said to myself snobbishly. I stood at the gate and reflected that at my old school I was that school's HeadGirl and the girls here better realise who they are dealing with. Although I am not very tall I am little bundle of dynamite if someone lights my fuse “Hello” I called out. Nobody was a round so I dumped my bags and set off to explore the grounds and find the Headteacher office. Gosh I think it is large school and I do not know anybody, were will I sleep tonight. I feel a tear running down my cheek. I think about my sister still at my old school, unfortunately she is a brunette poor kid. I find my way into the school and start to look around. A prefect called Miss Veronica Bellemont met me in the corridor and show me the way to the heads study and finally to the dormitory. I was a smaller than the prefect and she had dressed in the perfect manner. I stood their in awe of her !!!!! ………………………….. 5 From: Date: Fri Sep 3, 1999 1:31pm Subject: Re: My New School Annalinda Chelverton thought she ought to check the blondes' dormitory in case any one had arrived. Goodness knows what they might get up to in a nearly-empty school. In the dormitory she saw a blonde - and a brunette! "Hello, Annalinde" said the brunette. "Don't worry, I'm not invading your Sacred Territory, just showing this little bunny where to rest her head." "Bunny" was an Avendale term for a new girl; and this particular bunny looked very new and slightly tearful. The brunette was Veronica Bellemont. Annalinde was always a shade nervous of Veronica. It was silly really - Annalinde was much the senior prefect at nearly seventeen and Veronica only fifteen, but Veronica was considerably taller than she and always so *immaculate* and - well - she was *so* brunette. And - well - when she spoke to one about something one had done wrong she was always right, so one just sort of accepted her as the senior, even though she wasn't. Sometimes one felt as if Veronica was about to cane one - which was absurd . . . wasn't it? Though she was always very sweet to blondes. Annalinde turned to the blonde bunny who was her province. "Hello," she said "What is your name." She didn't quite catch the girl's name. She was about to ask again when the girl volunteered "I was head girl at my old school." It sounded sort of plaintive, but defiant at the same time. "Poor girl," thought Annalinde "But I hope she isn't going to get too big for her patent leather t-bars." Annalinde put an arm round the nameless bunny. "I think you'll like it here," she said - and then, patting her meaningfully on the bottom, "but you'll have to behave yourself." The bunny gave a rather curious smile - one that half made Annalinde want to cuddle her and half made her wonder where she had packed her strap. "Well, if you want anything, bunny, just ask me. Prefects are here to help - as well as to render other services." "Which reminds me," said Veronica to Annalinde, "There is something I wanted to talk to you about. . ." Annalinde had that Veronica Feeling again. 6 From: Date: Fri Sep 3, 1954 6:50pm Subject: Notice Board: Some Questions Answered Here are some questions that have been asked by pupils. I am putting them on the notice board in case the answers may be useful to other girls Please tell me how I address the other girls and the staff at my new school. All mistresses are addressed as miss. All girls you may address by their first names. Some prefects may expect you to call them "miss firstname" if you see what I mean. That is not a rule, but if a prefect wants it, it would be advisable to comply. * * * Do blondes and brunettes have separate dormitories at Avendale? Are they allowed in each others' at all? Could a blonde report to a brunette prefect's room for discipline? Blondes and brunettes have separate dormitories. Normally they do not enter the others' dormitory, but they might during the day on business (as when Veronica escorted the new girl to hers). A blonde could certainly report to a brunette prefect's room for punishment - or *vice versa*. * * * Is kissing against the rules at Avendale? And what about makeup. There is no rule against kissing - after all, much affectionate kissing takes place between the same sex. Blonde-brunette kissing is not against any rule, but could raise eyebrows if it seemed too passionate! Make up is actually encouraged in pupils over fourteen as part of being well turned-out. It should not be excessive though. * * * 7 From: Date: Fri Sep 3, 1999 6:50pm Subject: Ariadne Writes Home Avendale School for Young Ladies Avendale-in-Quirinelle Quirinelle Aristasia September 4, 1954 Dearest Blonde Mummy, Please send me my red woolen stockings from my bottom dresser drawer. My feet have never been so cold! It has been raining every day since I arrived at Avendale School, and my room, on the topmost storey of Caerlinde Hall, is rather draughty. Before Lights Out, we may fill only one hot water bottle, which does not last a long time, though it would last a bit longer if the water were better than warm. The first night, I screwed the cap on crosswise and so it leaked and I had wet feet all night and if my cold wet feet hadnt kept me awake, the sniggers of my room-mate whose name is Elspeth Elsvetta would have. Elspeth found my predicament quite amusing, but in the morning she was kind enough to show me how to screw the cap on properly so that the next night my feet were not so quite so very cold although the mattress was still rather damp from the first nights leak. Elspeth knows everything even though she is also new here at Avendale School and sometimes she seems almost as practical as a brunette. I think she must have been at a boarding school before, for she knows all sorts of tricks. She can tumble out of bed and be dressed to perfection in five minutes including applying mascara while it is still almost pitch dark (which it is at six in the morning) without putting out her eyes! Mascara is not allowed at Avendale School but Elspeth's long lashes are so very blonde that unless she does it looks as if she hasnt any at at all so she keeps it in an empty dental powder can that is supposed to be full. Of dental powder, I mean, but it really has three tubes of mascara inside and no dental powder at all. The brunettes here at Avendale School seem very well-bred and not at all fresh like the ones at St. Yvyannes or at Miss Volpecula's Academy. If a blonde comes into a common-room and there are any brunettes already there, they spring to their feet and remain standing until the blonde is seated. And they do not mutter at one another if only one ends up carrying my books, tho' I try to give a book to each and as we have four subjects in the morning I have four brunettes carrying my books between classes and they chat amiably with one another the while rather than squabbling over which one has got the heaviest book (Aristasian History is the heaviest). And speaking of Aristasian History, the History Mistress, Miss Poindexter, has called on me three times already and each time I gave the right answer. Today she asked me who was Empress during the reign of Empress Celestia and a general gasp went up when I answered correctly! I study ever so hard every night which, as you can see, pays off handsomely in the classroom! But Mummy, they are awfully strict here, even Prefects may give strokes of the cane tho' they may not give more than three without special approval of a Mistress. And the strictest of all are the blonde Prefects, who may punish only blondes, whereas brunette Prefects may punish any girl. Today I witnessed two punishments, one by a brunette Prefect whose name is Veronica Bellemont who sounds like Scarlett O'Hara in "Gone With The Wind" because she comes from a plantation or something like in Georgia, Culveria. Veronica paddled a blonde for having "sat in an unladylike fashion" on a divan whilst reading, even though no one saw her except Veronica herself but the paddling was rather a sham as one could see that Veronica pulled back her wrist at the last instant to soften the blows. But after Seventh Period a *blonde* Prefect named Annalinde paddled a blonde for popping her chewing gum in the hallway (chewing gum during school hours is strictly forbidden, so *popping* gum is worse), and Annalinde, tho' she is slight, made that paddle cut the air with a low moan and the gum-popping blonde had no doubt but that Annalinde meant every stroke to count. As you very well know I have never required anything stronger than the back of a hairbrush which was bad enough so I am in terror of paddles, switches, birches, straps and canes so every night just before Lights Out, (whilst my hot water bottle is still warm), I read over the Avendale School Rules and Regulations (and Penalties), which is twenty-six pages long, with footnotes and a glossary on different kinds of canes. If Miss Poindexter happens to get to the History of Canes, I shall know all the answers! Please send my red woolen stockings! Daughterly Kisses from, ARIADNE 8 From: Date: Fri Sep 3, 1954 7:11pm Subject: Words on Words from Miss Prism Oh, girls - adjusts spectacles - girls. Yes - a few words about - well, about words. I shall be posting some Linguistic Notes in the School Library which I should like you all to study. But for the moment, a few words you may not be familiar with which will help you to understand the way we talk here at Avendale - and in Aristasia generally. Culveria - that is the name of the Western Colonies of Aristasia. They are self-governing and are divided into states New Quirinelle and New Kadoria. Together they form the United States of Culveria. Then there are the Southern States which form the Confederate States of Culveria. They have their own president. I seem to remember that the first was Vivien E. Lee. A very great stateswoman. Our charming - yes, very charming young prefect Bellemont, V. comes from the Confederacy. Altalia - well, that is us. I mean the Old World as opposed to Culveria. Telluria - now that is another world altogether where there are said to be strange creatures called men. Whether it actually exists is a matter for conjecture, but some people think it does. Bunnies - a rather silly term that Avendale girls use for new girls. One stops being a bunny, apparently, after one's three weeks' probation - then, I suppose one becomes a girl providing one is accepted. Very childish I am sure; but then girls will be girls - or bunnies. Now - a few words for you to remember *not* to use: Student. Girls here are not students, they are pupils. Headteacher - yes, Webster, K, I *am* looking at you. We have a Headmistress here. Headteacher is dreadful Inclusive Language said to come from Telluria - assuming it exists. In Aristasia there is nothing to Include, thank goodness. I think that will do for today. Not too much to remember. But I shall expect you to remember it. 9 From: Kadorienne Date: Fri Sep 3, 1999 7:54pm Subject: Re: My New School "Really, Annalinde," Veronica was saying, "I know that the school was practically deserted, otherwise I'd have gone out there and told you not to sit like that right away." "If it hadn't been deserted, I wouldn't have been sitting like that, Veronica," Annalinde replied. She carefully kept her tone meek; the words could easily have been cheeky. Veronica gave her the affectionate smile she reserved for blundering blondes. "I didn't think so. But really, just because no one -- or almost no one -- is there to see doesn't mean one shouldn't behave properly. For one thing, someone might see you without your knowing it. I saw you sitting with your knees drawn up, even though you thought no one was around." She paused, choosing her words. "But more importantly, there is the matter of your own... inner blondeness. Being blonde -- or being brunette, for that matter -- isn't just a matter of being born so. Blondeness -- and brunetteness -- must be cultivated. If you see yourself behaving in an un-blonde way, or an un-ladylike way, then you won't truly believe yourself to be blonde and a lady. And even if your behavior around others is all right according to all the rules of etiquette, your manner will lose an indefinable something, and everyone will notice that." The bunny standing between the two prefects, one blonde and one brunette, was almost shrinking before their eyes. To herself she was wondering how she was going to get along in a school with prefects who could spin philosophies around sitting properly when one was alone. Was she subject to punishment if she lacked that "indefinable something"? And what could she do about it if she were? "You're quite right, Veronica," Annalinde admitted. "I shall be more careful when I'm alone -- or think I am." And there it was. She had deferred to Veronica, her junior by two years, because Veronica was always so very right. Veronica turned to the bunny and inclined her head. "I'm leaving you in good hands, fair one," she said in a bantering tone. To Annalinde she said, "Show the bunny her warren, will you?" When Veronica had left the sanctuary of the blonde dormitory, the bunny whispered, "She must be ferocious." "Yes...." said Annalinde. "To brunettes." She winked at the bunny. "Come on, I'll help you unpack."..... 10 From: Date: Sat Sep 4, 1999 6:29am Subject: Some notes to players Dear members of Avendale, This new project seems to be developing very well. I should like to take a moment to address you "outside" the game (are we ever quite outside it?) with some comments and advice on playing. 1. Player and non-player characters Avendale is a large school with about 200 pupils. Most of these, of course are what are called non-player characters. They may be referred to and "moved" in the narratives of players - as Ariadne has demonstrated. Sometimes members may "animate" non-player characters. These then become player characters at least temporarily. 2. Care with player characters. The narrative method is such that it is often necessary to describe another player's character as taking some action. Where you are using other player's characters in this way, it is important to do so with care. Do not have them act out of character, and where possible, leave the story open so that the player of the character may take it up and decide her own actions. This also allows the narrative to develop in an exciting way with the writer of the narrative waiting to see how her own storyline develops as it is taken up by other players. Of course it is quite all right to have player characters doing "background" actions which are natural to them. If your character is represented by another player as doing or saying something she would not do, feel free to "modify" the narrative, retelling the story from your point of view. A character's description of her own actions always supplants any one else's. Such "corrections" may be used imaginatively to develop the story. On this subject, may I say that I am *very* pleased with the way the present players have been working with each other weaving an integrated narrative. Good work, girls. All of you. 3. Game Time This game is played more or less in what is called "real time". In other words a game day corresponds to a real day. Of course, narrative may sometimes be a bit flexible with time, but in general we should adhere to this rule so every one is in the same time-dimension. If you have any questions or ideas you wish to discuss with me, please do not hesitate to write privately to me. Dorothea Maitland 11 From: Date: Sat Sep 4, 1999 4:22am Subject: Re: My New School "There" said Annalinde to the new bunny, "are you starting to feel more at home? Its only a funny little curtained-off cubicle in a big room full of other girls, but it is quite cosy and you can put all your things here. Once the other girls arrive, at least you'll never feel lonely, and I am sure you will make some very nice friends. "Now I must go to my room as I haven't started my own unpacking yet." "Have you a room of your own?" "Oh yes. I am a prefect. Well, actually I had another girl in last term, but I haven't this term so far." "My people are very well off," said the new girl. "I really don't see why I shouldn't have a room." Annalinde laughed. "Oh, don't you. Well, it's nothing to do with how well off your people are. You are still only twelve and you sleep in the dormitory. I did when I was your age - and quite a lot older." "Well, it's not fair!" "Lift up your gymslip at the back," said Annalinde. Puzzled, the girl obeyed. Annalinde delivered two sharp slaps to the back of the girl's legs. "What was that for?" asked the girl. "Would you prefer the cane?" "N - no." "The perhaps you would like to respond a little more properly to your correction." "Oh - thank you, Miss Prefect. Thank you for correcting me." Annalinde laughed again. "You can call me Miss Annalinde. And what or* was to save you from more serious trouble. If you start saying things like "It's not fair" in that tome to the mistresses or some of the stricter prefects, you will be punished in ways that make that little slap look very mild." "It did sting, Miss Annalinde." "Well, other things sting more. Oh, by the way, what *was* your name?" The girl was about to answer when some one else entered. An extremely attractive blonde who looked almost too old to be at school, though not at all *daunting* like Veronica. "Oh, hello." She said "I'm Ariadne and I've been looking for some one to ask. I wonder if either of you junior girls could tell me. . . ." "I'm not a junior girl," said Annalinde rather haughtily. I am a prefect. "Oh *good*" said the nearly-grown-up looking girl, quite unaware of the magnitude of her error. "Then I expect you'll know things." "One or two things, yes." said Annalinde. The sarcasm seemed lost on this Ariadne. She was making one feel about ten, and in front of the bunny, too. "Well, can you tell me anything about hot water bottles?" "They are rubber bottles you put hot water in," said Annalinde. It had been meant as a reproof, but she realised she was just making herself sound like a cheeky junior. She tried to redeem the situation. "You can get stone ones two. You get them from the Store Room. The Domestic Bursar issues them. "Oh, yes. I found that bit out. But I mean, how do you get them *hot*. Mine was about as warm as a cup of Railway tea." "Oh, yes. They can be a bit lukewarm. The thing to do is find the maid who fills yours - they are always very junior ones - and have a word with her. Don't forget to slip her a penny or two and it will be piping hot." "A penny or two. Do you mean literally. I mean, would a half-crown do?" "If you want to start a scandal or have the girl retiring on the riches. No I mean a penny. Or two if you are feeling generous. They pick up a few pennies that way and are very happy. It helps with various things." The new girl made a mental note about the usefulness of bribing maids. "Thank you *so* much," said Ariadne. Would you like a penny. "Thank you, no," said Annalinde. "Oh, I am sorry. Of course not. *You* are not a maid - I didn't mean to imply that. How about half a crown?" Annalinde was about to *pop*. "No really, I'd rather you didn't give me anything. I am glad to help." "What a sweet little girl," thought Ariadne as she went off to find a maid. 13 From: Kadorienne Date: Sat Sep 4, 1999 11:52am Subject: Veronica The weather unexpectedly cleared in the afternoon and almost everyone was outside enjoying the relatively warm air. After all, it wouldn't be too long before winter set in. Most of the brunettes went off to the tennis courts or the playing field to engage in brunettish sports. Veronica, however, being miles away from her beloved baseball (in summer she played with a teen brunettes' team called the Peaches) and finding cricket an unsatisfactory substitute, instead went to the courtyard where most blondes were gathered to dispense a little Southern chivalry. Veronica immediately spied Joan and Suzanne, a couple of Rough Brunettes. To be sure, Rough Brunettes at Avendale were far better behaved than Rough Brunettes elsewhere. Still, Rough Brunettes they remained, always taking advantage of being stronger and -- not exactly smarter -- but perhaps more mentally organized -- than blondes. At this moment Joan and Suzanne were elbowing some blondes off a bench, laughing at their squealed protests. The expressions of the blondes proved that this was not a lighthearted flirting game. Veronica stopped and watched. In a moment, Suzanne noticed her and poked Joan. The next moment they were both dusting off the bench with their handkerchiefs and gesturing the blondes to it in courtly fashion. Joan said, "We just couldn't bear for your lovely maroon gymslips to get all dusty sitting on that dirty bench. You blondes really must be more careful of your clothes." Suzanne added, "Might we have the honor of occupying the grass at the feet of you charming blondes?" Veronica, grinning, walked on. As she drew near them, the Rough Brunettes both stood straight and said, "Hello, Miss Veronica." Unlike some of the prefects, Veronica did not always insist on being called "Miss", but those brunettes who had run afoul of her generally did so anyway. These two had vivid memories of Veronica from the previous school year. By the end of last year, they had finally gotten into the habit of rising when blondes entered the room or stood up. This wasn't an Avendale rule, strictly speaking, but it was a custom, and one which Veronica, naturally, upheld. Veronica took them to task over their failure to rise for blondes many times. After each time, they felt like standing whether there were blondes around or not. Veronica stopped for one moment and looked at them. Both brunettes swallowed, but tried to look confident. Veronica said at last, "I'm glad to see y'all have learned more chivalrous behavior. I'm sure that will make this school year more... comfortable for you." Letting them off with this warning, she continued on. She noticed that new bunny, the intimidated creature who had been Head Girl at her old school, sitting by herself. She was a trifle annoyed that Annalinde or someone hadn't set her up with some company -- new girls needed a little help, with the exception of that older blonde Ariadne, who was doing just fine -- but maybe Annalinde was too busy; certainly prefects had enough to do. Still, *someone* should have helped. Veronica could see that the bunny was trouble waiting to happen. The girl was used to being important. If she didn't get some attention, she would start causing trouble in order to get some. Approaching her, Veronica realized she had forgotten the girl's name, but she didn't want to say so and maybe make her feel slighted, so she just said, "Hello there. How are you settling in?" The girl looked a little nervous. Well, after all, Veronica was a brunette and a prefect; the girl had every reason to be nervous of her. She'd have to put the girl at ease. She sat down next to her. "Just fine," the bunny answered almost inaudibly. "So you were Head Girl before?" The bunny straightened just a little. The memory was giving her some strength. "I certainly was." "Then maybe when you've learned the rules here and are old enough, you'll be a prefect here. In the meantime, maybe you could help me." That got a response. The little girl's face brightened. "How?" "Well, you're used to authority. You see those Rough Brunettes over there?" Joan and Suzanne were still sitting on the grass, talking to the blondes. The blondes were beginning to thaw a little now that the brunettes were behaving themselves. The girl's eyes widened in fear. "Yes?" she whispered. "Oh, they're not that rough. I wouldn't let them near you if they were. But I need someone to keep an eye on them. I'm going to introduce you to them, and then I want you to stay with that little group and watch how the brunettes act. If they start pestering the blondes again, I need you to go and find me or another brunette prefect to put a stop to it. Can I count on you for that?" "Yes." "Good! That'll be a big help to me. Come on." Veronica stood and extended a hand to help the bunny up. When they reached the little group around the bench, Veronica introduced all of them to the bunny. Let them ask her name when she left. "I thought y'all would be just the girls to make this bunny feel welcome." She looked meaningly at Joan and Suzanne. "I'm sure you will." Joan waved a hand. "Sure, the more blondes the merrier. Is there any more room on that bench for another blonde?" The blondes scooted over until there was just space for one little bunny, who promptly filled it, looking shy but relieved to be in some company. "Y'all look after her," Veronica ordered as she moved on. Under the old oak tree was Ariadne, almost obscured from view by the crowd of brunettes who found her more alluring than rackets or bats. Ariadne had said that Veronica sounded like Scarlett O'Hara. Ariadne resembled Scarlett in another way -- in her effect on members of the opposite sex. Suddenly Ariadne spied her through a slit in the wall of brunettes. "Oh -- oh, Veronica! How are y'all?" At that Ariadne went into a fit of giggles. Most of the brunettes laughed too, more at her high spirits than because they thought it was funny. Veronica didn't find it in the least funny -- she didn't go around making fun of the way Altalians pronounced either "eyether" or said "quite" all the time, after all -- but it didn't do to be rude to a blonde, however irritating. So she smiled politely and said, "If you're going to try to use foreign words, learn to use them correctly. 'Y'all' is plural." Ariadne's Cupid's bow lips parted slightly and her brows knit together in concentration as Veronica spoke. She reminded the prefect of a small child trying to follow a grownup conversation about mortgages or politics or physics. The blonde deliberated for a moment before saying, very earnestly, "Then shouldn't you have just said, 'Y'all *are* plural'?" This time the brunettes did laugh, and Ariadne laughed triumphantly with them, clearly thinking she had corrected a prefect in the use of her own land's language. Veronica was about to go when Ariadne called, "But wait! Veronica! I wanted to see you!" Veronica turned back and found all the brunettes looking daggers at her. Some brunettes just lost their heads over the silliest blondes. Not that Ariadne wasn't pretty and charming, but really, it was clear any brunette would do for her. She wouldn't be one to save her first kiss for the Right Brunette. "Yes, Ariadne? What is it?" "I was wondering if you'd seen Elspeth. I've been looking for her all afternoon, and...." Whatever else Ariadne said was lost to Veronica. She felt her face going very pale and the earth tilting under her. Keeping her composure rigidly, she gasped out, "Elspeth who?" "Elspeth Elsvetta. She's my roommate." Veronica elbowed her way through the pack of brunettes to Ariadne's side, oblivious to how they were all torn between respect for a prefect and desire for a blonde. "Where is she?" Veronica asked. "I don't know. That's what I was asking you." "Oh. Would you like me to go find her for you?" "Oh, would you? I asked all these brunettes" --Ariadne waved a hand at the glowering group-- "but none of them would go. I guess you Southern gentlebrunettes are more chivalrous!" Veronica left in search of Elspeth in such a daze that she didn't even notice how the sea of brunettes closed around Ariadne again as she departed.... 14 From: Clare Maree Date: Sat Sep 4, 1999 6:01pm Subject: Carrie Zooms In Caroline Veleda-Binks left her cases lying on the steps of the Main Entrance to Avendale, where the taxi-brunette had left them. She was too excited to worry about cases. She ran into the school and looked at the entrance hall. It was ripping. All that oak panelling and those portraits and everything. Carrie's brunette mother had had some sort of Financial Disaster and Carrie was taken away from her jolly public school and sent to the local Grammar. She didn't *mind* the local grammar. It was quite jolly really. But she had missed being at a *proper* school. Then, a few months ago, during the holidays, it had all been sorted out - the financial disaster - and Carrie was sent to Avendale - an even *better* school than the one before the grammar. Now she was here it looked like the toppingest school in the world. She wasn't a bit nervous. In fact Carrie Binks was the sort of brunette who hadn't a nervous bone in her body. She hailed a younger girl as if she had been captain of her form for years. "I say, can you tell me where the brunette dorms are?" The blonde whom she addressed looked a little startled that such a confident, bouncy older girl should not know that elementary thing. "Up those stairs," she said shyly. "Jolly ho!" said Carrie and tore up the stairs like a tornado. The dorm was empty, so Carrie bounced on one or two beds and then decided to explore some more of the school. She clattered down the stairs and zoomed along the crowded corridor like a demon motorcyclist weaving her way through heavy traffic. And then, as demon motorcyclists sometimes do, she collided with a solid object. The solid object was a tall, immacculate brunette prefect whom she later came to know and respect as Veronica Bellemont. Veronica had intended to bar Carrie's path, but Carrie did not notice until it was too late. "Don't you know you're not supposed to run in the corridors?" asked Veronica. "Oh, no," said Carrie. "How could I know? I've only just arrived. Just inspecting the old place, you know." "At the speed you were moving, the 'old place' can have been no more than a blur. I think we had better discuss this further in my study. Come with me. Name, girl?" "Caroline Veleda-Binks at your service," she said with a flourish. Though most people call me Carrie. "Come with me, Veleda-Binks." 15 From: Kadorienne Date: Sat Sep 4, 1999 11:49pm Subject: Re: Carrie Zooms In Elspeth stopped on the outskirts of the pack of brunettes surrounding Ariadne. "Ari?" she called. "Elspeth? Oh, let her through." Elspeth was a little nervous around all these brunettes, but walked through the path they cleared to Ariadne's side. How could Ari be so composed while surrounded by all these dashing brunettes, their eyes devouring her, their hands no doubt always ready for a pinch? But Ariadne seemed perfectly at ease, Elspeth noticed enviously. Part of being almost grown up, no doubt. At least the brunettes didn't seem to be looking at *her*, Elspeth, as if she were a steak. All eyes were glued on Ariadne. If a dozen brunettes were looking at Elspeth that way, she'd faint on the spot. Elspeth reached Ariadne's side and said, "Veronica said you were looking for me." "Did she? Isn't she a sweetheart?" "Is she? I don't really know her." "Didn't she walk you back here?" "Yes. But after she said you were looking for me, she didn't say a word. She seemed a bit cold to me." "Odd. Well, Elspeth, I'd like you to meet Constance, and Nanette, and Leslie, and...." Veronica was back in the building, trying to clear her head. Ever since Ariadne asked her to find Elspeth she had been in a trance. She had spoken to Elspeth and walked beside her. She did hope she hadn't been too bold. Delicate blondes were so easily frightened. The sight of a dashing -- in both senses of the word -- young brunette running through the halls brought Veronica back to her usual practical, in-control self. Having put a halt to Carrie's attempts to break the sound barrier, Veronica led her to her room. Veronica sat down at her desk. Carrie plopped down in the other chair. Veronica raised her eyebrows. "Did I give you leave to sit down?" she asked coldly. Carrie stood up at once, but did not seemed daunted. "Oh, sorry, old chapette. Is that one of the rules here? No sitting down without permission?" "It's a good idea not to do anything without permission when you're in trouble. Where did you go to school before, Veleda-Binks?" "To a local grammar. And to a jolly public school before that, but it wasn't so tip-top as this one. I love it already." "Of course it wasn't. And I'm glad you love Avendale; I'm sure you'll love it much more before you leave. But if you love it, you want to be a credit to it, don't you?" Veronica was in lecturing mode. Some of the girls preferred to get caught, if they had to, by certain prefects who just smacked you or gave you lines withot lecturing to you. But most prefects did lecture, and Veronica didn't think training a girl to do or not do anything was pointless if she didn't know why. "'Course I do. And I mean to be, too. I'll be on all the teams, and win prizes, and all sorts of things." "And obey school rules at all times." "Of course. But I don't know the rules here yet, you know." Veronica was a little annoyed at the "you know". One shouldn't address a prefect so informally. But new girls always had to be trained. Veronica hadn't. She had been born knowing just how everything was supposed to be. "Wasn't running in the halls against the rules at your last school, Veleda-Binks? And by the way, I think you ought to address me as 'Miss Veronica'." "Oh, very good. Miss Veronica. Yes, running was against the rules, but there wasn't anyone in the building to run into." "There was one person," Veronica pointed out. "Me." "Oh -- yes." Carrie laughed. "Miss Veronica. Sorry about that." "You will be." Veronica sat back a little in her chair and sighed. "Everyone seems to think that just because most of the girls haven't arrived yet, that makes the rules null and void. We have blondes sitting in all sorts of immodest positions," --Carrie perked up at that pleasant prospect-- "brunettes running through the halls, and I don't know what else." She leaned forward and looked into Carrie's eyes. "Avendale is the best school in the Empire, with the possible exception of Selastine. You are very privileged to be here. Part of the reason Avendale is such a good school is that its students respect its rules faithfully. Now, every girl is issued a copy of the regulation book, but really, you knew better than to run. Come and bend over my desk." Carrie did so at once with no fuss, Veronica noticed with approval. Carrie did not, however, seem particularly upset at the prospect of being punished. Well, no matter. If Carrie got in trouble regularly, Veronica and the other prefects would have time to learn what sort of punishments really affected her. Veronica lifted Carrie's blue skirt -- Carrie wasn't in uniform yet, of course. Her petticoat she left in place. Not all prefects, or even all mistresses, always respected the modesty regulations that forbad lifting the petticoat, but Veronica, well, almost always did. She took her hairbrush, tapped Carrie's derriere lightly, then pulled back her hand and delivered the first blow. Carrie exhaled rather loudly, but made no other sound. Her face was set matter-of-factly, as if she were waiting for a doctor to finish giving a shot. Veronica smacked her with the brush several more times before pausing. "How often am I going to see you running through the halls after this, girl?" she demanded. "Never, Miss Veronica," Carrie answered promptly. No snivelling, Veronica noticed with approval. She delivered several more smacks before putting the hairbrush down. Whatever other bad habits Carrie might have picked up at the local grammar, she still knew how to take a thrashing. She stayed in position until Veronica told her, "You may stand up. Good girl -- you took it like a brunette." Carrie straightened and put her skirt back in order, very self-possessed. "Thank you, Miss Veronica." Veronica noticed that Carrie did not rub her sore derriere as most girls did. Generally girls who didn't were show-offs, liked to pretend that being punished didn't bother them. This one would either need a lot of discipline or hardly any. She would bear close watching. "Now go and join the cricket game and burn off some of that energy," Veronica ordered. "Come to the window and I'll point out the field." Carrie noted the general direction of the field, then studied the courtyard. "I say, what's that? Miss Veronica." Veronica followed her pointing finger to an absolute mob of brunettes and chuckled. "Oh, that's Ariadne." "Ariadne? She must be a capital blonde. Ah -- Miss Veronica." "Oh, yes. If you like flirts." Carrie stood on tiptoe and peered. "I say, Miss Veronica, I think there's two blondes in the middle of that mob." "Two?" Veronica moved over and craned her neck. Sure enough, next to Ariadne was another golden head and maroon gymslip. The second blonde's back was turned, but Veronica didn't have to see her face to recognize Elspeth Elsvetta's flaxen hair. Veronica stood as if turned to stone. Carrie abruptly whirled around and raced for the door. Years of prefect training made Veronica automatically snap, "Carrie!" Carrie stopped on a dime. "Yes, Miss Veronica?" "What did you just get paddled for?" Carrie grinned. "For running in the halls, Miss Veronica. I shall walk to the cricket field most sedately." Turning back to the window, Veronica resumed gazing down at the flaxen hair surrounded by other brunettes.... 16 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 1:43am Subject: Re: The First Saturday Night Silvery peals of blonde laughter reverberated off the tile walls of the bathroom in Caerlinde Hall, rippled along the dim corridor of its topmost storey and spilled down the stairwell where they could be heard in the entryway. The new upper form blondes -- only new blondes were allocated the least desirable rooms in Avendale School's most ancient dormitory -- the new blondes were sharing their day's adventures with one another as they prepared for their first Saturday night on the town, which would be all the merrier because, after only two days of classes, they had as yet accumulated no heavy assignments. The bathroom itself was thick with steam, and the long, common mirror over the washbasins opaque with condensation except where a few girls had rubbed a round spot with their towels. But even such spots remained clear enough for any close work only for a moment or two before clouding over again, for tonight the water was actually hot and the girls were making the most of it. Saturdays the engineering staff, in anticipation of greater usage of an otherwise rigidly regulated commodity, actually shovelled sufficient coal into the furnaces so that one had to temper hot water with cold to avoid getting scalded in the showers. On all other nights the hot alone produced nothing but tepid water -- if one was lucky. If one was not .... well, one's shower perforce would be curtailed. A squat steam radiator at the end of the bathroom, its countless strata of institutional paint so thick that the foundry markings had long since become indecipherable, was too hot to touch, warning the girls off with an irregular clangor and menacing hiss. (It was the only radiator on the floor -- a neat technicality to allow Avendale School's vaunting its 'modern central heating' in the adverts in the glossy Sunday Supplement section of the Maryhill *Monitor*). Not that the girls needed warning, as the radiator was all but inaccessible anyway: a spindly clothes-drying rack of unfinished dowels supported by scissored wooden legs at each end, stood before it, draped with a dozen or so pairs of freshly washed nylon stockings, which, on this one night of seven, had a slightly greater than even chance of drying before they were needed, despite the room's swirling vapor. The laughter redoubled as Ariadne, a bunny like the rest of the girls in the bathroom, though older, recounted Veronica's sudden discomposure that afternoon at the mere mention of Elspeth's name, a discomposure apparent even to Ariadne, usually slow on the uptake, but in this case spot on the mark. "You should have seen her!" exclaimed Ariadne, pausing in the final touches to her coiffure, one hand on her hip, to emphasize the point with the comb she held in her other hand. "Her jaw drops so wide open that she looks like a grouper," (lowers her head and imitates a slack-jawed fish), "then she gasps and turns the color of suet pudding. 'Elspeth who?' she finally stammers, and even the brunettes standing about could see her knees had turned to jelly. "So I make my eyes big as saucers and say, 'Elspeth Elsvetta, my roommate, of course, who'd you suppose, Queen Elspeth?' and, without so much as another 'y'all behave, now,' Veronica staggers off as if she had been conked on the bean with a croquet mallet!" Here Ariadne turned to Elspeth herself, who was standing at the next washstand blushing crimson, and tapped her significantly on the shoulder with the comb, "La! That brunette's head over heels for you, don't you mistake it! You've wrapped her round your little finger without even trying. She's only fifteen, of course, but she's a prefect and uncommonly good-looking. A bunny could do far worse after only the first week at school." It must be revealed that Elspeth, by now the colour of a boiled lobster, had indeed been found by Veronica that afternoon, who took advantage of the encounter haltingly to invite the blonde to the Saturday night cinema in Avendale town. All the new blondes were going of course, but so far, only Elspeth had been lucky enough to have a brunette escort; the others (Ariadne included), were going as a group, hoping to pair off with brunettes on the way into town. The *Rialto* was showing a new import from Culveria, a Cinemascope film called "Lucky Me," starring Doris Day and Roberta Montgomery, with Philomena Silvers providing the comic relief. Special projectors and a new, curved screen had just been installed; everyone was dying to see the "3-D" effect of Cinemascope, which could up to then be found only at first-run theaters in Maryhill, such as the *Odeon.* "Shhh! Ariadne! You don't have to tell the whole *dormitory,* you know! I only told Veronica I'd go with her because I couldn't bear hurting her feelings. She looked too earnest and puppylike to be refused," responded Elspeth, in one of those confidential blonde whispers meant to be a whisper only in concept, thus audible enough to the girls in the bathroom above all the din of the water and the radiator. "Well," continued Ariadne with an air of Great Knowledge and Experience, you know how faithful puppies can be! This one will fetch and carry for you, mark my word. You have made a conquest, I do not doubt..." Further discourse on the canine virtues of smitten brunettes was curtailed by a squabble that had broken out between Nancy and Wendy, a pair of sixteen year old twins who were unsuccessfully sharing the latest Quirrie-style white-and-green plastic hair dryer, brought brand-new from home and only now being put to the test, having been plugged in to the bathroom's only power point on the wall between two washbasins filled with soapy water in which two other girls were washing out their stockings. The four were jockeying for position, the two laundresses glaring balefully at both twins, who were oblivious to being in anyone else's way but each other's. The whine of the twins was uncannily the same timbre as the whine of the underpowered dryer which was, at present, in Wendy's possession. "I get it first! My hair's thicker than yours! Give it here!" shrilled Nancy, making an abortive lunge for the little machine, which Wendy jerked up high above her head and behind her, well out of Nancy's reach. "Our hair's exactly the same, you nit-wit. We're *twins,* remember? The only difference is, you're too lazy to towel yours dry, so *I* don't want to be late because of *your* laziness!" squeaked Wendy, holding the dryer still higher up. "Well, it was *my* idea to bring it in the first place," cried Nancy, lunging again. The sharp rapping of a coin edge on the mirror brought sudden silence to the bathroom, save for the pitiful whine of the hair dryer, as all heads turned in unison towards the door, to see none other than Annalinde, the blonde prefect, standing there, immaculately mackintoshed, white gloved and wearing her grey-ribboned straw boater for her evening out -- and frowning portentously. "Kindly switch that infernal thing off," said Analinde slowly, in carefully measured tones, while looking up towards the ceiling as if seeking divine forbearance. Wendy switched off the dryer, and as it wound down, she slowly lowered it until it hung loosely from her hand. Annalinde brought her eyes downwards and looked deliberately from girl to girl before speaking again. As her gaze lit on Ariadne, her frown momentarily tightened, then she continued looking down the line of blondes at the washbasins, her eyes finally returning to Ariadne's. Annalinde raised her eyebrows interrogatively and made a small sweeping gesture before her with one hand, palm upwards. The unspoken and clearly understood rule was the oldest girl present was to render an explanation of a disturbance, and, if such explanation was found wanting in any particular, she would be held fully accountable. Even Ariadne, not adept at conceptualization, dimly understood this. But alas! Ariadne's tongue "quite frequently" ran in advance of her brain, for she said, "Why, you're the sweet little Annalinde girl who told me not to give the maids a half-crown, but only a penny, for filling my hot water bottle! I have taken your advice, and given a penny to Betty, so my feet shall be warm at last! But, la! You are certainly well-turned out for the evening, but I'd use a bit less lipstick if I were you, it doesn't quite suit you the way you have done it. Here, take this tissue...." "It's Ariadne, is that right?" interrupted Annalinde icily. If Annalinde had been ready to *pop* this afternoon when Ariadne had humiliated her before a half-a-dozen brunettes, she was now ready to explode. Such insubordination was intolerable and needed to be squelched directly or Annalinde's authority as a prefect would be fatally and irredeemably undermined. "Come here, Ariadne." Ariadne smiled sweetly, and advanced towards the grim-faced younger girl. "Yes? Do you want me to show how to fix that lipstick?" "You are right-handed, Ariadne?" Ariadne nodded, still smiling. "Hold out your left hand, then, palm up." Ariadne, thinking that Annalinde had some sort of little Avendale School ritual in mind, readily complied, still not comprehending the precise ritual Annalinde had in mind, but Ariadne's smile quickly faded, her eyes grew wide and she drew in her breath with a gasp as she saw Annalinde remove from her mackintosh pocket a small prefect's switch of willow, with a delicate knot tied into its tip, which, when uncurled, could not have been much more than twelve inches long. Annalinde swished it side to side expertly with quick flicks of her wrist. All eyes were riveted on the two blondes facing one another; the whole bathroom held its breath. While all were thus distracted, Nancy single-mindedly seized the moment to make what she thought would be a discreet sideways grab for the hair dryer still held by her sister, but she bobbled it. The dryer, switched off but still plugged into the power point, seemed to leap from her grip of its own accord and plunk with a hollow little splash and gurgle into one of the washbasins adjacent, still filled with soapy water and stockings. A loud hum could be heard in the bathroom for a moment or two, then a loud "fizzzz-skutch;" blue sparks shot forth from the wall, the lights dimmed, surged brighter than before, and went out. So did the lights everywhere on the campus -- in all the dormitories, along the pathways and drives and even in the Headhouse, where Miss Maitland was just settling down with a new Agatha Christie thriller to which she had been looking forward the whole week. All Avendale School was plunged into darkness. 17 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 5:26am Subject: Noticeboard: Information on New Girls For those who have been puzzled, the new girl who has been slapped by Annalinde and given responsibility by Veronica is Katie Webster. Caroline Veleda-Binks is fourteen years old. New girls, please remember to state your full name, age and sex. Aven Annalinde, I notice, forgot to put her *full* name in her introduction, though she did rectify it in her next message. No order marks this time, but do be careful. girls. 19 From: Elspeth Elsvetta Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 8:28am Subject: Elspeth Blushes "But Ariadne, *really*" said Elspeth, "why did you have to say I was going to the cinema with Veronica." Her normally fair, china-like complexion was pink and she felt hot all over. Normally she never differed with any one out loud, but she felt so embarrased that she *had* to say something. "Well, I thought you were," said Ariadne calmly. "But you even said *I* said I was." "I was going to raise the subject, but I was sure you'd say you were because every one else was saying so - well, they soon would have been." "It's true that Veronica was walking with me, but that is only because you had asked her to find me for you. She was terribly nice, but she is so chivalrous. I am sure she is nice to all the blondes." "But she didn't ask you to go to the cinema?" "No - I kept thinking there was something she was *about* to say, but she didn't say that." "Well, there you are. She wanted to. So I was telling the truth entirely. You should have accepted." "But how could I . . . I mean . . ." Ariadne was *impossible* sometimes. Elspeth wandered into the grounds. She wanted to be alone. Wanted to think. Oh, if only Ariadne hadn't reported her as calling Veronica puppy-like. Suppose it got back to Veronica. Elspeth though Veronica *anything* but puppy-like. She was so tall and neat and so every inch a gentilmaid. One couldn't *blame* Ariadne. Fact and imagination seemed indistinguishable to her sometimes. But, oh, it was so *embarrassing*. And what if Veronica *had* acted rather strangely when Elspeth's name was mentioned? Probably it was pure coincidence. Perhaps she felt ill, or was thinking of something else. Elspeth could not imagine that Veronica really thought seriously about *her*. She knew herself to be attractive, but - but *really*. And she felt so *young* she was younger than the other senior girls, although she didn't look it. She was probably a *shade* older than Veronica, but she didn't feel as if she was. Veronica was so - so *competent*. It was the strangest feeling to think that Veronica might *really* feel like that about her. But it was silly. Ariadne had been wrong about the cinema, so she was probably wrong about the whole thing. Elspeth checked her mascara in the little hand-glass that she kept with her. She *did* look pretty. Her aunt had said so just before she went off to school. She tried to put the matter out of her mind. She didn't want to be one of those *silly* blondes. She sat down, very decorously, on a little beneath a tree, and started to read her little poetry book. It was late summer. Autumn was just around the corner. But somehow it felt like spring. 20 From: School Girl Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 11:48am Subject: Arrival and tour of the school I was gratefully to Veronica and her friend, whose name I did not know! For helping me find my way to the dorm. I realised very quickly that they wanted to be my friend because, firstly I was a blonde and secondly that I was important because being a former HeadGirl at Greenland’s I would be nearer if not at the top of the social standing in Avendale. “Thank you What is you name, how do I address you?” as she passed me my school uniform to hang up. “My name is Annalinde,” said the other girl. “And my name is Katie” I said “They will need ironing,” said Veronica. I asked, “What time is the Maid around to iron my clothes?” I looked at the two prefects awaiting my answer; they just giggled and stared at me. A strict looking teacher came into the dorm “Webster K” “Yes Miss” I replied instantly Se handed me note about school etiquette. I read the note, which informed me that apparently I addressed the Headmistress as the Headteacher. “Sorry Miss” Her glare told me not to do it again. With that she left the dorm without saying a word. We carried on unpacking my clothes. “What casual clothes am I allowed to wear?” I asked I was at the present dressed in my school uniform. As the one of the prefects was about leave she smacked my legs. I made a mental note to inform the Headmistress’ and to tell her the kept on calling me a Bunnie. “Do you not realise who I am”. Having finished unpacking I decided to check out the rest of the school and the grounds. I wrote a note home to my mother I signed it Katie, then crossed it out and resigned it Katherine my real name, but I hate that name, I prefer Katie. As I wandered around the school I realise what a magnificent building it was and how lucky I was to be, in fact how lucky the other girls in this are to have me as a school friend. I stuck my small chest out and went off to investigate. After about an hour I ended up in the Great Hall, I spotted a Grand Piano, I removed the cover and started to play Greig's piano concerto No. 1. I was playing when the prefect turned up.................... 21 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 2:46pm Subject: Noticeboard: Avenbridge Town Information about Avenbridge - the nearest town to the school is now available at http://www.aristasia.com/avendale/avenbridge.html We are hoping to have more information available on various things of interest to Avendale pupils shortly Dorothea Maitland 22 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 4:53pm Subject: School list Katie Webster has asked me for a list of girls and mistresses. There is no official list as yet, as the game is still very new Player-character pupils so far are: Annalinde bl, 16, Veronica br 15, Ariadne bl 18, Carrie br 14, Elspeth bl 15 and Katie bl 12. There are a couple of others who haven't introduced themselves yet, so we won't count them until they do. Player prefects are Annalinde and Veronica Mistresses: myself bl, Miss Prism br, Miss Serelique bl and Miss Maybridge br. Miss Maybridge mostly looks after technical matters If I have misrepresented any one, please let me know. Dorothea Maitland 23 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 2:04pm Subject: Musical Interlude Annalinde was not dreadfully happy. Just as she had been about to create some order in the general area of that Ariadne, all the lights had gone out. The blonde dorm, of course, was in uproar and it took about half an hour after the lights finally came back on to calm the junior girls down. Some of them were scared and others had become terribly giggly. She had caned two junior brunettes who had crept in to scare the blondes in the dark. Probably she had punished them a little harder than she might have because she couldn't help pretending they were Ariadne. Did the girl do it *deliberately*? Surely she must. As she walked along she heard the sound of music wafting down the corridor. It was Grieg's Piano Concerto No.1, played rather well. But who could be playing music at this time? She followed the sound to the Great Hall where she saw a small blonde playing *the* grand piano. The one no one was allowed to touch except the music mistress and the most promising senior music scholars. She recognised the blonde. "Stop playing at once!" she shouted. The blonde stopped and turned round. "You again," she said. "What *is* your name?" "Katie Webster," said the girl. "Well, Webster, no one is allowed to touch that piano." "Isn't that a bit of a waste?" "I don't mean absolutely no one. But not you, certainly." "I am quite good," said Katie with a mixture of pride and nervousness. "As a matter of fact you are, but the music mistress will decide if you may play that piano, and none under sixteen has ever been allowed to. And you should have had more sense than to play it without asking permission from any one. Now, stand up and put your hands on the piano stool." Katie did so rather nervously. "If you had been here longer I should have caned you," said Annalinde. "As it is . . ." She lifted Katie's skirt. "Touch the piano-stool with your forehead - without bending your knees." Katie obeyed. Annalinde produced her littl flexible switch that she had experienced so little success in plying upon Ariadne last night. She swished it through the air. The sound was small and high. Then she whipped it across Katie's tightly stretched white knickers. Katie cried out. The pain was not deep, but sharp, and it took her by surprise. "Quiet please," said Annalinde. "Six. That was the first." Somehow Katie was expecting five slow, measured strokes, but Annalinde swished the switch rapidly. Six quick, hard swishes each one breathtakingly sharp, the cumulative pain mounting to a fiery crescendo. Katie hardly knew how to bear it. And then it was over. "Stand up," said Annalinde. Already Katie's pain was subsiding, but she felt shaky all over. The feeling was not entirely unpleasant, though. But it had been a few moments ago. Annalinde smiled kindly. "All over," she said. "Do you think you can be a bit more sensible in future?" "Yes, Miss Annalinde" said Katie. "You're a nice girl," said Annalinde. "Do come to me if you need any help. You mustn't think I don't like you because I punish you. Sometimes" - there was a skittish little trill in Annalinde's voice. She was feeling much better now - "sometimes it is quite the other way round." Katie thought about that. She wasn't sure if it was a reassuring idea or not. 24 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 6:38pm Subject: Lights Out Jinjur tried to bring her copper-and-gold curls into some kind of order while she tried to decide whether to sit with her old flames Joan and Suzanne at the cinema or set her cap for a new brunette. Maybe that new girl Carrie. Carrie seemed a bit younger than Jinjur's sixteen, but she was definitely Jinjur's sort of brunette; very dashing. She gave up on her hair at last; it was as unruly as she was. She did her best before applying fresh eyeshadow, jade green to match her eyes. Then she stood in front of her mirror to evaluate the results. She really wished that pupils could wear something other than uniforms to the cinema; the maroon gymslip blondes wore didn't really match her strawberry blonde hair. Still, her hair was certainly eye-catching, everywhere she went. She was just smiling proudly at her reflection when the lights went out. Immediately the commotion from the blondes' bathroom tripled. Jinjur quickly felt her way to the door with delight. Ooh, this was going to be better than that time a mouse joined the blonde choir for Evensong! She felt her way to the bathroom, where Annalinde had almost succeeded in calming everyone down and establishing some order. Jinjur remedied that straight off. Under cover of darkness, she pinched every blonde backside she could find, trying to guess by the squeals who the victim was. At one thrilling point she was almost certain she had pinched Annalinde! A prefect! How long had it been since even a brunette had dared pinch Annalinde? The blondes were in virtual hysterics, in spite of Annalinde's shouted orders, when a gleam of light appeared. Instantly there was dead silence, and every blonde there, except for Jinjur, was delighted to see Veronica's confident, smiling face, illuminated by her electric torch. Another brunette prefect stood beside her. "Is everyone all right here?" she asked when she had their attention. "Yes," the blondes all murmured, except for one. "What happened?" she demanded shrilly. "It wasn't our fault! When will they have it fixed?" She was clearly on the verge of hysterics. Veronica handed the torch to the other brunette, smoothly took the blonde's arm and delivered two brisk swats to her backside. The blonde instantly quieted. Veronica put a finger under her chin and looked into her face. "Are you all right now, honey?" she asked gently. The blonde gulped and nodded. "Good!" Veronica exclaimed, brisk once more, taking the flashlight back. "Now everyone hold hands. We're going to make a girl chain. Each of you should be holding hands with two different girls." Veronica gave the blonde's hand to Annalinde, took Annalinde's hand herself, and shone the flashlight around the room to make sure everyone was getting in the chain. Jinjur ducked into a dark corner; she wanted to stay in the dormitory for a bit. "I almost had it under control," Annalinde was saying, her voice a little tense, "but someone in here started pinching everyone, and--" "It's all right now, Annalinde," Veronica interrupted gently. "Nancy and Wendy? Are you there?" "Yes," two voices echoed. "They certainly are," Annalinde agreed tartly. "Why is your torch working when nothing else is?" a voice demanded. Veronica grinned. "I'll try to explain that to you later, Ariadne." She paused, pointing the light in that direction. "Are you all right? Is your roommate with you?" A flurry of giggles rose at that, but subsided when Veronica swept the light around again. "She's right here next to me," Ariadne said, her voice dripping with innocence. "Good! Come on. Everyone walk quietly and hold onto your partners' hands. I'll warn you if there's any stairs or turns." The other brunette brought up the rear and the line of girls all snaked out into the corridor, with many squeals and "sh-sh"s. Jinjur waited until they were all gone before creeping into the dark hall alone…. 25 From: Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 9:45pm Subject: Lights Out Jinjur walked softly through the dark corridor, one hand on the wall to guide her. Most blondes would have been too afraid to be alone in the dark, but Jinjur found it exciting. "RAARH!" Two strong hands grabbed Jinjur suddenly. She screamed, and was answered by the sound of brunettish laughter. When Jinjur had caught her breath, she asked, "Who is that?" "Jinjur?" the other girl said. "Yes. Is that you, Suzanne?" "Yes! Oh, it's good to see you again! Well, sort of," Suzanne added in the pitch darkness. "Do you know what they'll do to you if you get caught in the blonde's dormitory?" Jinjur whispered. She could feel Suzanne's shrug. "Nothing they haven't done before." That was part of what Jinjur liked about Suzanne -- and her pal Joan. They weren't so afraid of being punished that they couldn't have any fun. Without another word, Suzanne grasped Jinjur's arm and propelled her into the nearest room. Jinjur had no idea whose it was. Inside, Suzanne pushed Jinjur against the wall and started kissing her. Jinjur put her arms around Suzanne's neck and melted happily into the kisses. Suzanne was pressed close to her, and after several kisses gave her a few caresses that would have made a proper blonde slap her face. But Jinjur was not a proper blonde. "Oh, don't, Suzanne," she whispered for form's sake, but Suzanne did and Jinjur argued no more. After a few long minutes of petting, the sounds in the dormitory subsided, and the girls realized that almost everyone must be gathered in the common rooms. They disentangled themselves from each other. Jinjur went in the direction where she thought the common room was, and Suzanne went hunting for straggling blondes to frighten. 26 From: Kadorienne Date: Sun Sep 5, 1999 10:50pm Subject: Veronica Studies Veronica sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on the Aristasian History assignment instead of going over the events of the last few days. But the new girls and series of mishaps whirled through her mind. Of course, she didn't really have to study the history chapter anymore. But history was always her most challenging subject. She had spent her earliest school years in a Culverian school, and now she was in an Altalian school full of Altalian girls. So even though she studied hard, occasionally she embarrassed herself by not knowing something that every seven-year-old Altalian knew. If only there were more Culverian history, she'd have them all beat. Oh, they all knew that Georgette Washington was the first United States President and Vivien E. Lee was the first Confederate States President, but how many of them knew who Senatress Joan Calhoun was? Or General Belleregard? Or Betsy Ross? Her mind wandered again to the blackout. Everyone had been out of sorts ever since, because no one got to go to the cinema. But there was next week, and Veronica had heard that the film would be "Love Letters", starring Jennifer Jones and Josephine Cotten, and her Aunt Rosemarie had written her that it was excellent. Both the twins had been strapped. Veronica wished they hadn't been; it wasn't as if they could *help* being blonde. Fortunately, Veronica always kept a flashlight in her room for such emergencies. She used to be in the Brunette Scouts, and their motto was "Always Prepared." Her blonde mother even still had her first Scout uniform, the little brown dress that "Brownies" or little brunettes wore. Young Blonde Scouts wore yellow dresses and were called "Goldies". So Veronica had grabbed the flashlight -- or "torch" as the Altalians persisted in calling it, as if she had sashayed through the halls of the dormitories holding a stick that was set on fire -- and gotten another brunette prefect to go with her to help herd the hysterical blondes into the common rooms so everypette could be accounted for. When the lights came back on, several of the blondes from Ariadne's -- and Elspeth's -- floor had given her speculative looks, or so she thought. She had thought her uniform might have been in disarray, but it wasn't. Well, who knew what went on in blonde heads. Jinjur's uniform had certainly been rumpled, and in a most suspicious fashion. Obviously she hadn't changed over the summer, and was going to be spending half her time over someone's knee this year too. Annalinde had seemed rather put out that Veronica had been able to restore order when she hadn't, but really, a sweet little blonde, even a prefect, couldn't have the same effect as a tall and mistressful brunette. That was what brunettes were *for*. Annalinde was an excellent prefect, and very practical for a blonde. And she had had more than enough to deal with. Some blonde had contributed to the hysteria by pinching everyone in the darkness. Veronica had no proof and so couldn't punish anyone, but she'd lay bets it was Jinjur. What other blonde would do such a thing? Then Joan and Suzanne had been caught in the blondes' dormitory, where they had been scaring the blondes, and Annalinde had given them each three strokes of the cane, the most a prefect could give without a mistress' permission. After that Annalinde had seemed to feel better. And both brunettes had then been summoned to *Veronica's* room to receive three strokes of the cane from *her*. Before bedtime, another brunette prefect, after a word from Veronica, had added *her* three strokes, so they had been amply corrected. Thinking of those two reminded Veronica of that bunny -- Katie was her name, she had finally learned. It didn't seem that Veronica's attempt to give the girl some responsibility had done any good yet. Well, she'd try again. She wondered how Katie had gotten to be head girl. Not only did she seem to be a thorough brat, but she was virtually illiterate, having only the most casual acquaintance with punctuation. Her chin on her hand, Veronica smiled slowly as she remembered what she had seen out the window this afternoon. Elspeth, sitting all alone with a book. She had thought about going out to talk to her, but she had looked like she wanted to be alone. Besides, what would she say? But she had been such a contrast to all those hysterical blondes last night. Even during the blackout, none of the squeals or shrieks she heard had been Elspeth's. Not like Ariadne, who had almost raised the dead with her exclamations. And several brunettes had spent the entire following day trying to explain to her why Veronica's "torch" worked when nothing else did. Veronica spent the rest of the evening study period staring at the second page of the history chapter and seeing a flaxen-haired girl sitting on a bench under a tree with a book in her hand.... 27 From: School Girl Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 2:22am Subject: Dear Diary Dear Diary. It has been a strange day at my new school I got the switch for playing beautiful music on the schools Grand Piano. The prefect who smacked me was sort of nice! I like her even if she is mean to me at times. I suspect that the discipline her is tough. Today I met two brunettes and another blonde girl, I suppose I remember their names eventually. I had been given a job of reporting theses girls if they mis-behaved, but I was scared of them so I my leave. I must seek out the music mistress and audition for her so I am allowed to play the Grand Piano. I found it hard as at Greenland’s my old school, I was top dog I pushed everybody around, but here I am the youngest girl in the school! I certainly do not like having no privacy and to think of it, me yes Katie Webster has not got a room of her own, and Annalinde called me by my surname, can you believe that diary! I could not believe that also she considered caning me, I should be above reproach, and I have to call prefects Miss! I think in the future I will steer clear of Annalinde, because I think she has plans for me, and I do not think that they are nice plans, like tea and crumpets in the prefect’s common room. I could not sleep so I went to the toilet; I noise's coming from a room. I sneak in and spotted to two girls kissing each other I do not think they saw me. I recognised one of them as Suzanne but not the other girl. I hope that at this school I can work hard on my grammar if it was just left to my music I would do very well. I seek extra help; perhaps I will ask Miss Veronica to help me? Katie. 28 From: Kadorienne Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 11:25am Subject: Veronica helps Katie Veronica was sitting in the Common Room idly turning the pages of a movie magazine someone had brought from home when little Katie Webster hesitantly approached her. Veronica looked up with the friendly smile she gave all blondes. Katie fidgeted. "Um. Miss Veronica. Will you help me?" Veronica took the two pieces of paper Katie was holding out. The first was a grammar assignment, covered with red correction marks. Veronica had always wondered if teachers used red to correct papers to remind pupils of the color their palms and derrieres would be if they didn't improve. The second was the same assignment done over, and with far fewer mistakes. Veronica was delighted. Perhaps she had been wrong about the girl. "Very good, Katie!" she exclaimed, looking up. She found the girl was still standing -- nervously, on one foot. She'd correct the girl's deportment some other time; right now she wanted to reward her for what she was doing right. "Sit down! I'll help you with this one, but you're doing much better. And I'll ask the mistress to assign you a tutor in your class." "A girl my own age?" Katie grimaced. "Often if a girl is a little behind in one subject, she gets a tutor in her class to bring her to everyone's level," Veronica told her firmly. "I had one for history my first year." She looked at the assignment. "There should be a comma here, not a period." For the next few minutes she went over every mistake on the girl's assignment, explaining why a comma must be used here and a period there. "Miss Veronica, is kissing against the rules here?" "No, but you're really a little young to be doing that, Katie." "Oh, I wasn't asking for me. But you told me to keep an eye on Suzanne, and last night I saw two girls kissing in the toilet." "We call it the bathroom or powder room here," Veronica informed her. "And kissing is not against the rules." "One of the girls was Suzanne." Veronica sighed. She didn't want to pry into girls' private affairs, but she had to find out what blonde Suzanne was leading astray so she could warn her. "Who was the other girl?" Katie pointed before remembering that pointing wasn't manners. "That girl with the reddish hair." Veronica looked and wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or alarmed. It was Jinjur, of course. "I see. Well, I'll ask your mistress to assign you a tutor." "Will I have to call her Miss?" "No, but I hope you'll be very nice and polite to her, just as you would be to anyone else." With this indirect reprimand Veronica hoped to tell Katie what kind of behavior was expected of her here at Avendale. Katie trotted off with her new assignment and Veronica looked at Jinjur, trying to decide what to do about her. She noticed that Jinjur's hem had gotten pushed up so that her dark stocking top was showing. Veronica stood up.... 29 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 0:22pm Subject: Jinjur gets spanked Jinjur entered the pupils' common room and joined her old friends Joan and Suzanne on a sofa. They at once fell to discussing their summer and the new girls. "Did you see that Elspeth? She's a bit of all right!" Joan said, winking broadly. "I'd steer clear of her if I were you. I hear Veronica's already staked a claim. The last thing I need is to have Veronica thinking I'm after her blonde," Suzanne replied. Both brunettes shuddered theatrically at the prospect. "That Veronica," Joan sneered. "Puts blondes up on a pedestal and then doesn't even try to peek up their skirts while they're up there." "Speaking of blondes, I heard that some blonde was in the dormitory pinching everyone during the blackout," Suzanne said with elaborate casualness. "Jinjur, *you* didn't get pinched, did you?" Jinjur grinned. "I did pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming -- when I realized I had pinched Annalinde." Both brunettes were hugely impressed. "Annalinde? Really? You didn't!" "Are you sure you're a blonde?" Suzanne teased. "You should know," Jinjur retorted. Same-sex attraction and even romance was not unknown, though it was generally a youthful phase. And of course marriage was always between a blonde and a brunette. Jinjur was definitely a blonde, and was as enthusiastic about brunettes as any blonde, but she spared some attention for other blondes as well. One nice thing about being a blonde was plenty of opportunities to peek up the skirts of other blondes; they weren't as careful around her as they might be around brunettes. Jinjur scanned the room over and over, noting the pretty new faces. That Elspeth was pretty, all right, but too demure by half for Jinjur's tastes. Ariadne was so pretty, and seemed like she'd never be able to keep out of trouble, which was promising, but she always had such a mob of brunettes around her. There was a very striking blonde named Charlene in some of Jinjur's classes who would bear watching. One girl especially caught Jinjur's attention, a new brunette; she heard one of the other girls call her "Carrie". Carrie looked a little younger than her, but her dashing manner made it clear that nevertheless Carrie was her sort of brunette. Jinjur took a fold of her skirt in her clasped hands and watched Carrie out of the corner of her eye. When she noticed Carrie glance at her, she gave her skirt a slight tug. With the unerring skill of long practice, she adjusted it so that her dark stocking top was showing. Carrie, naturally, was riveted, while Jinjur kept obliviously chattering to her brunettes. Accidentally-on-purpose exposing too much was one of Jinjur's most honed skills, and favorite pastimes. She had only been enjoying Carrie's gaze for a moment when Veronica Bellemont, that gorgeous spoilsport, walked over. "Hello, Jinjur. Would you mind going out into the hall with me for a moment?" In spite of Veronica's courteous words, Jinjur knew they were not an invitation. That was just how Veronica thought brunettes should talk to blondes, whatever the circumstances. She got up and preceded Veronica out of the room, smiling cheerfully. In the hall, Veronica put her hands on her hips and looked down at Jinjur seriously. "Jinjur, when will you learn to sit like a lady? Your stocking top was showing." Jinjur opened her eyes wide, as if she were mortified. "Was it?" she asked innocently. "Yes, and I wasn't the only one who noticed." Veronica sat down on the hall bench. "Come here." Following Veronica's gesture, Jinjur settled down happily over the prefect's knee. She needed discipline and she needed fun, and fortunately pursuing the latter generally resulted in receiving the former. Veronica began, as usual, by lecturing her. Her spankings were seldom hard if you were a blonde, but she believed that blondes listened better face down over one's knee. "I'm sorry to see that you're still keeping company with those two," Veronica said. "You know they can't do anything good for a blonde's reputation." "Oh, Veronica, really, they're not as bad as all that," she wheedled. "They're just high-spirited." "I think that's just your blonde innocence, Jinjur." Jinjur was glad Veronica couldn't see her face, because she couldn't help smirking at that. A few girls passed through the hall and glanced curiously, but neither Veronica giving a spanking nor Jinjur receiving one was a particularly unusual sight. "You must be more careful about letting your skirt ride up. Some brunettes might get the wrong idea." Jinjur grinned again, but said meekly, "Yes, Veronica." "I know you're a blonde and delicate, so I've tried to be patient with you, but if I see your skirt out of place again, I'm going to give you the paddle, and over your petticoat, too." Jinjur felt a great sensuous languor at these words. "If you think that's best, Veronica," she said. In her mind she was already planning to let Veronica see her underthings again soon. Without further ado, Veronica began spanking Jinjur, with her hand, over the skirt. Jinjur wriggled happily. She would have preferred a harder spanking, but still, being helpless over the knee of a strong and good-looking brunette was fun any way you looked at it. When Veronica allowed her to get up, Jinjur looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you, Veronica," she said sincerely. Veronica smiled affectionately. "Now run along and try to keep out of trouble for a while," she said…. 30 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 3:36pm Subject: Jinjur gets spanked Suzanne stopped Jinjur before she could re-enter the common room. She took Jinjur's arm and led her down the hall. Jinjur recognized that glitter in Suzanne's eyes. Spanked blondes often had that effect on brunettes. Suzanne propelled her into one of the few places at Avendale where any privacy was possible. It was a storage room that was seldom entered. It was supposed to be locked, but the knob was broken and Suzanne had discovered that if you turned the knob just so, it would open. Once inside, Suzanne turned to Jinjur with her hands on her hips. "Let's see how red Veronica made your backside." Trembling with excitement, Jinjur turned around and lifted her skirt and petticoat. Suzanne snorted. "Not even pink! Well, I suppose I'll just have to correct Veronica's oversight." Suzanne sat on a box and pulled Jinjur over her knee. "You know you deserve a really good spanking. After what you let a brunette do last night." "The brunette was you, Suzanne! You should be spanked for -- for grabbing me! It's not as if a blonde has the strength to resist a forceful brunette!" Jinjur was whispering so they wouldn't be caught. Suzanne laughed. "This blonde doesn't, anyway." She pulled Jinjur's skirt and petticoat back up and started caressing Jinjur's backside. "Oh, Suzanne, don't!" Jinjur whispered delightedly, squirming. "All right, then I'll do this instead." Suzanne started smacking Jinjur's backside through her maroon knickers, hard and fast. Jinjur gasped at the sharp tingles of it. She liked to yell and moan when she was spanked -- all conversation in the common room had stopped as everyone listened to her moans while Veronica spanked her -- but she didn't want this hiding place discovered, so all she could do was gasp. Oh, it was wonderful to be with a brunette like Suzanne, who knew what blondes were for, who didn't think she was made of fragile china! When Jinjur's backside felt very warm and tingly, Suzanne finally stopped. "Your thighs match your knickers now, so I think you've had enough," the brunette declared. She began caressing Jinjur's backside again. The blonde hadn't squirmed much in the last few minutes -- the resistance had been beaten out of her and she was luxuriating in surrender -- but now she started again. "Suzanne, stop it!" she whispered. "Why don't you call out for help, Jinjur?" the brunette asked mockingly, not removing her hand. Jinjur moaned very softly. After another minute, Suzanne let her get up, but only so she could shove her against the door as she had done during the blackout and start kissing her. Jinjur slumped in the brunette's embrace as if she had no will of her own, as if she were merely a toy for the brunette to play with. She did not offer even a token resistance to Suzanne's bold caresses. But Suzanne was careful not to disarrange Jinjur's clothes, except for lifting her skirt a little so that she could stroke Jinjur's reddened thighs. Jinjur wished they could stay like that forever, but at last the dinner bell rang, and they both had to hurry to the powder rooms to freshen their lipstick and straighten their rumpled uniforms. Even Jinjur had had enough punishment for one day. From: Caroline Neville Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 5:30pm Subject: New Girl Caroline The taxi driver dropped me off at the main school entrance before driving round to the servants entrance to deliver my trunk. I was trembling with excitement at the thought of at long, long last arriving at school, and Avendale at that. I had read so much about it and heard so much about it that it truly seemed impossible that I was about to step through what seemed to me to be a magical door. I rather nervously tugged at my overcoat pocket flaps and patted my beret a little more firmly on my short auburn curls. The air felt cool against my face and I picked up my overnight case and stepped firmly up the steps to the door. I pulled the bell handle and a smartly dressed maid opened the door, very promptly I thought. "Good morning Miss" she said. I too said a polite "good morning." "and may I take your name Miss" she asked "Miss Caroline Neville" "And your age Miss?" "I'm 13 - look can I come in or what or do I stand here all day?" I asked, in a rather preremptory fashion. The maid's face changed and she looked at me in a rather bemused fashion - and I realised I had perhaps been a little rude - an unfortunate start, I thought. "If you will follow me, Miss" she said "I will take you to Miss Maitland for your initial interview." I followed the maid along a splendid if a little gloomy corridor, to a door on the right. I was told to wait outside and the maid knocked on the door. On hearing the command "Enter" she did so and bobbed a curtsey to the lady within. I heard the maid advance a little within the room and then some low murmurings. Suddenly an ice cold command rang from the room "Caroline Neville, step in here immediately." I turned and entered the room. It struck me that it was a truly lovely room, the furniture all beautiful mahogany and polished to the most wonderful sheen but some unseen but clearly caring hand and a great deal of elbow grease. But I did not have time to look around me - the lady at the desk surveyed me with a fixed glare. "You are Caroline Neville are you?" I nodded my head. "Speak child" she returned. "Yes Miss" I replied. "Well Caroline, I am Miss Maitland, your new headmistress. And I am dreadfully disappointed to learn of your rudeness to a servant on the very first moment of your arrival. And I had been led to understand that you were looking forward to your time here - you had most earnestly requested of your parents that you should come here - and you arrive and are immediately rude to someone who is in no position to answer back. How do you think a silly little brunette girl who has been here for less than five minutes should be punished?" I stood, stock still, absolutely terrified. My dream of Avendale was falling in tiny shattered pieces around me. I had had such hopes of being happy here and through my own stupidity I had wrecked everything and I would always be picked out and picked on as the girl who was rude to a servant maid in her first day at school. 32 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 5:23pm Subject: An Illicit Passion It was not until six on Sunday morning that power was restored at Avendale School for Young Ladies. Who, during the blackout, had been heroines and who, victims (willing or unwilling) has already been well-chronicled elsewhere in these pages and so shall not be here repeated here. Only two further items of intelligence need be added. One, that the Domestic Bursar, Miss Cruikshank, rose to the occasion by releasing her precious hoard of Arcadian tapers and candle-sticks to all comers (without requiring signed receipts). She even came up with three dozen paraffin lamps, filled with pink paraffin, their wicks already trimmed. These she distributed to the prefects and to the mistresses -- and, of course, to Miss Maitland. (Miss Cruikshank was a minority of one when electrification had been proposed thirty years before -- she never trusted electricity, so still lighted her two rooms in Queens' Hall with candles and heated her tea on a small paraffin ring. The Great Blackout, as it soon came to be known, was her vindication.) And Two, that when power was restored early Sunday morning, anyone stirring could hardly miss the notice already posted, dead centre, on every dormitory bulletin board: "Hair Dryers Are Strictly Prohibited and Are to be Surrendered to Miss Cruikshank in the Property Room by Six PM Sunday, 5 September. They Will be Returned to their Owners at the End of the School Year. Girls Found in Possession of a Contraband Hair Dryer after this Deadline Will be Subject to the Sternest Disciplinary Measures. -- (signed) Dorothea Maitland, Headmistress." If the New Girls did not know what "the sternest disciplinary measures" signified, word rapidly spread among them that Miss Maitland kept a Long Birch in a special humidified case in her study, humidified to keep the instrument always supple. Every Long Birch in the province was certificated and crimped with the Provincial Seal by the District Governess herself; each required an official annual recertification by the Ministry of Chastisement and a written report, in quintuplicate, whenever it was used. The Long Birch, despite its name, was not of birch at all, but rather a yard-long bundle of willow switches bound at one end in black leather, its surface roughened so that it would not slip in the user's hand when swung with appropriate force, a force sufficiently brisk to cause a sick-making sound of an inexpertly played mouth organ as the loosely conglomerate rods sliced through the air on their way to a victim's tenderer parts. Six strokes of the Long Birch was the maximum permitted by Imperial Statute. No girl at Avendale had ever seen the Long Birch used, but rumour had it that, several decades ago, two brunettes, whose illicit cigarettes had ignited a disastrous fire, had tasted its hideous kisses -- and then were expelled. Whether or not Miss Maitland actually possessed a Long Birch -- or merely suffered the idea to persist -- and whether the rumor were true, was of little import, for all during Sunday girls in a steady stream could be seen on their way towards the Property Room, carrying hair dryers of every description (and by Tuesday appointments at every Avenbridge hair-dresser were booked solid for three weeks out, for much shorter styles had suddenly become the rage). But now it was almost midnight on Sunday: Old Liza, back in service now that the power was on, had just proclaimed the last three-quarter hour of the day. All the girls, exhausted by the excitement of the preceding twenty-four hours, were soundly asleep. Only one window on the whole campus was still illuminated, a small dormer window in the Mistresses' Residence, Queens' Hall. Inside her cramped dormer chamber, Penelope Poindexter, the young History Mistress (brunette), crumpled up -- for the sixth time -- the unfinished first page of her next day's lesson plan, for it, like the others, had become tear-stained. She removed her wire-rimmed spectacles to wipe them clear with her handkerchief -- the tears adhering to the tips of her long lashes had streaked the lenses. Then she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief, blew her nose, lay her head down on her folded arms and wept freely. Miss Poindexter, you see, was dreading Monday morning, dreading the second period, Aristasian History. Miss Poindexter was dreading the second period because she was hopelessly in the throes of an illicit passion for one of her pupils, the blonde, Ariadne. Such passion was not new for Miss Poindexter: it had happened twice before and had each time occasioned her leaving those positions -- voluntarily and with excellent references (and her passion unconsummated), for Miss Poindexter was as honourable as she was passionate. But on both those occasions, her passion had overtaken her late in the year, and here it was, not even one full week into the term, and it had happened to her again! Perhaps she was not cut out to be a schoolmistress after all! Perhaps it would have been better for her to have stayed on the farm at Nether Coppington like her sisters, but her marks had always been high, thus more had been expected of her than tending chickens and geese. Miss Poindexter now lifted her head, eyelids red and puffy, but her features nonetheless softer for want of the round, steel-rimmed spectacles she didn't really need to wear, but which she wore anyway, like a penance, to remind her of her weakness as much as to conceal her beauty. She sniffled, smoothed down the top sheet of paper, took up her pen and began a seventh time, but to no avail, for a large tear, dependent from the tip of her nose, plashed down in the middle of the sheet, ruining it. Now she sprang up from her desk and began to pace distractedly within the narrow confines of her dormer, wringing her hands round the latest crumpled page. The immediate problem was this: she could not think of another self-answering question to ask Ariadne. Like tasting forbidden fruit, those first few days she could not resist asking the girl such questions, because the look of unfeigned pleasure that would spread over the blonde's face when she perceived she had answered correctly, flew from her like a volley of golden arrows, melting Miss Poindexter's heart and kindling a deeper fire which was, even now, still smouldering within her. Thanks to these questions, Ariadne actually fancied herself one of the more clever girls in the class, which only lent more to her allure. Miss Poindexter dreaded the day when Ariadne would be unable to answer. And, on Friday, when she was writing Monday's assignment on the blackboard, she could hear some of the bolder girls muttering behind her back about the obvious disparity in the sorts of questions being asked in the classroom, a muttering she pretended to ignore. Where would this end? In another resignation? It would be impossible to find another position right after the start of the school year, not at a decent school, anyway. And to return to Nether Coppington would be an everlasting disgrace to herself and to her family, who had sacrified so much to pay for her training. Seized with sudden determination, Miss Poindexter sat down at her desk again and began writing her eighth lesson plan. This one was not ruined by tears. She had decided to ask Ariadne no questions at all the next day, and, after classes, to request Miss Maitland that she and Miss Montgomery be allowed to switch classes. Miss Montgomery was unhappy teaching French history, and would jump at the chance to teach Aristasian history instead, and Miss Poindexter had taught French history the previous term. It would be easy to arrange a trade this early in the term... or so Miss Poindexter hoped...... 33 From: Kadorienne Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 6:37pm Subject: Veronica's study period Senior girls had the choice of spending the evening study period either in their rooms or in the library. Veronica decided to spend this evening in the library, just because she hadn't been there in months and she missed the quiet atmosphere of all those books. If she had any time after her assignments, perhaps she could visit a few old friends; the works of E. Nesbit, for instance. As soon as she entered the library, she knew that she had made a mistake. Elspeth was there, sitting at a table by the window, her flaxen head bent over her workbook. How could Veronica possibly study with Elspeth sitting over there? She turned to leave, but the bell rang just then and she had to stay. Veronica looked around frantically for a seat. Several girls were studying in the library tonight, probably with the same thought Veronica had had. After a moment she spied a vacant chair in the corner. It was comfortable but was nowhere near a table, which was probably why no one had taken it. Veronica walked softly over to it, sat down, and opened her notebook on her lap. It was no good, of course. She was on the opposite side of the library from Elspeth, but could see her clearly enough. It seemed that even when her eyes were trained on the page before her, Elspeth was still all that she could see. Her eyes were moving over the words on the page and her hand was writing something about the essay questions, but she might as well have been copying some pages of Sanskrit for all she comprehended of it. A few years later, with half an hour of study period remaining, Elspeth shut up her workbooks and picked up another book, with a white cover that had some kind of picture on it. Having evidently finished the evening's homework, Elspeth spent the rest of the study hall perusing this white volume. The bell rang. Elspeth got up, put the white book carefully back on a shelf, returned to her table for her books, and headed for the door. Veronica was sitting immobile, the open notebook still in her lap. As Elspeth passed near her chair, she glanced at Veronica. Veronica immediately discovered that her insides had turned to quivering jelly. Her knuckles whitened around her notebook. Elspeth smiled shyly. "Good evening, Veronica," she whispered in the quiet noise of girls moving softly out of the library. After the door had closed behind the flaxen hair and graceful walk of Elspeth, Veronica regained the ability to move again. As if drawn by some sort of magic, she rose and walked to the shelf where Elspeth had placed her book. It was easy to find -- the only white book on the shelf. Veronica pulled it down. *Women Poets of China*, the title said. Veronica puzzled briefly over the title -- did they mean, as opposed to bird poets or horse poets? -- before flipping through it. She marvelled. It took patience and subtlety to appreciate poetry at all. Most girls read Nancy Drew for amusement, and poetry only for school. But Elspeth was reading the poetry of a different culture from her own. What depth had to exist behind those demure grey eyes. Veronica stopped to read a few lines by Wu Tsao, who she had heard was "the Chinese Sappho". "On your slender body Your jade and coral girdle ornaments chime Like those of a celestial companion Come from the Green Jade City of Heaven." Amazonian poetry -- for Wu Tsao lived in Amazonian China -- always had what Veronica found a very bracing simplicity that made it very powerful indeed. She wondered if Elspeth had been reading that poem. Veronica turned a few pages and stopped at random at a poet named Ho Shuang-Ch'ing. The notes said that she had been a bonded girl "The warm rain falls unfeeling Like scattered silk threads. The farm hand puts a flower behind her ear As she carries the new grain From his little field to the threshing floor. I got up early to water the field But she was angry with me for being too early. I cooked millet for her Over a smoky fire But she was angry because it was too late. My tender bottom is sore all day long." Veronica took the book to the desk and checked it out. She was already in bed for the night when she realized she could have offered to carry Elspeth's books for her. 34 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 6:33pm Subject: Re: New Girl Caroline Miss Maitland looked at Caroline in silence for some minutes. The girl was clearly terrified. Perhaps she should let this stand as a warning. But no. A small punishment would clear the air and make her feel her bad start had been purged. She opened a drawer in her desk and took out a strap, shiny with the patina of age. It was a rich dark brown, almost black, and was divided into two tails down its second half. "Which hand do you write with, Neville," she asked. "My right, miss." "Then hold out your left hand." The frightened girl obeyed. Miss Maitland laid the strap back across her shoulder, paused for a moment, as if measuring the distance, and then brought it down with a resounding crack on the girl's palm. Caroline was startled at the intensity of the pain. She screwed up her eyes and her face reddened, but she stayed completely still and did not draw back her hand. "A brave little brunette," thought the headmistress. She put away the strap, and her manner changed completely. "You may put your hand down now. You did well to keep it held out like that. In fact you took your punishment very well altogether. I am pleased with you." The pain had transported Caroline into another world. Slowly it subsided and the room swam back into perspective. Miss Maitland was smiling. She was the welcoming headmistress she usually was when new girls were brought to her. Caroline still looked apprehensive. "It is all over now," said Miss Maitland. "That is the nice thing about punishment. It purges our sins and we can start afresh with a clean slate. As far as we are concerned now, that little incident never happened. Though I hope you will learn from it." "Oh, yes, miss." "Good. I hope you will be very happy here Caroline. The girls are very friendly and nice, and from your entrance exam, I am sure you are up to the work. . ." By the end of the interview, Caroline felt more happy and excited than ever to be at Avendale. As she was dismissed, Miss Maitland laid her hand on her shoulder and gave her a friendly smile. "If there is anything that troubles you, do ask for an appointment to see me. Oh - and you will apologise to that maid when you see her, won't you?" "Oh, yes, miss," said Caroline. She felt more than happy to do so. She saw the maid more quickly than she expected. In fact she ran into her in the corridor not far from Miss Maitland's study, as if she had been hovering nearby. "I say, I am sorry I was rude to you," she said. "That's all right," said the maid with what might possibly have been construed as a slightly triumphant smile. She looked at Caroline's hand. Was that coincidence, or had she been listening outside the door. Caroline knew from past experience that some blondes rather enjoy getting brunettes into trouble, and suddenly she saw through the uniform to a rather perky young blonde, not *that* much older than herself. But Caroline was not annoyed. It all seemed rather magical, even though her hand was still throbbing. She smiled at the maid with more friendship than the girl had been expecting and inclined her head with just a hint of a chivalrous brunette salute. What an interesting place this was. 35 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 2:49pm Subject: Hello Caroline! Hello Caroline! I just wanted to say hello because you are nearest to my age and you are a brunette and this place is just *swamped* with blondes. Not that I mind blondes at all, but a brunette wants some brunette company, don't you think? Actually you aren't really nearest to my age. I am fourteen and you are thirteen and a couple of the girls are fifteen, so they are just as near in theory, aren't they - but they seem *so* much older, and even though you are a junior in socks you sort-of seem nearer to me. Probably I should look down on you as a "mere junior", but who cares? I think I like you! Lets be pals, shall we? And also I wanted to write to you because we are both called Caroline. Only please don't call me Caroline, because I hate it. Every one calls me Carrie. Anyway, that will help people tell us apart. Except the prefects and mistresses might not call me Carrie. Actually that Veronica Bellemont girl called me Veleda-Binks, but that is because I was in trouble for running about. Veonica is utterly topping, actually. Very fair and decent, even though she is strict. She whacks really hard too. You don't want to get on the wrong side of her. But then, I mean, if a girl is going to whack she might as well do it properly, don't you think? I mean, one respects that. Heaven knows how I'll stop running about. I mean, I always feel in such a hurry. Days are so short and there is so much fun to do. Have you met Jinjur yet? She seems rather amusing. I haven't really seen her to talk to, but I want to buttonhole her soon - only the girls who were here last year seem a bit daunting don't they? And they call us "bunnies". The cheek of it! I mean blondes can be bunnies, but not us! Anyway, how do you like it here? Whom have you met (do you like that "whom"? It's right you know). Do tell me how you're getting on and what you think of every one. Carrie Binks 36 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 6:32pm Subject: Elena Arrives at Avendale Elena Arrives The long journey was finally over. The lone passenger of the car could hear the engine of the motorcar slowing, as well as the sound of tyres upon gravel. She also fancied she could discern girlish voices outside, some distance away. They were gay voices, sweet voices, raised in song or in laughter. A fleeting, nervous smile flickered across the lips of the figure in the back seat as the car eased to a stop, just outside the entrance. "We are arrived, Lady Elena," announced the chauffeuse. After a slight pause, the young lady in the back seat responded, "Begging your pardon, Atalaya, but Mummy did specify that once I was at school, I was to be addressed as 'Miss Elena.'" "Very good, Miss," came the expected reply, with a slight pause, an air of expectancy. The girl in the back seat suddenly remembered what was expected of her and said, "Please report yourself, Atalaya, once you have returned home." Ah, she is learning, thought the brunette chauffeuese approvingly. The chauffeuse thought her test a clever one, and she had enjoyed the young noble blonde's sweet nervousness as she remembered her place and administered the expected correction. A smile curved Atalaya's dark red lips, and she smoothed an invisible stray hair under her chauffeuese's cap. "Very good, Miss." The chauffeuse turned off the engine and came around to the passenger's side of the car and opened the door. The young lady who emerged from the car was attired in wide, wool skirt, dark green in colour, over swishing petticoats, pale green cashmere cardigan over a white lawn, embroidered blouse, pristine white knee socks with delicate embroidery at the tops, flat green leather slippers, with little white gloves, a small straw hat, and even a small replica of a grown lady's purse for the special occasion, completing the ensemble. Her fiery hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, the ends of which reached to the girl's waist. Satin ribbons as green as her eyes adorned the coiffure. At first, she gave the appearance of being as old as fourteen, simply from height alone, though if one looked into her wide green eyes or listened to her speak, one could guess her to be no more than twelve, which was, in fact, her actual age. She wore no make-up, as yet; both her parents were of the firm conviction that young ladies should not be pressured to grow up too fast, as they did in the world below. Miss Elena Dierrian felt nervous and more than a little homesick. She knew that the ways of the West are different, and until this point, she had been schooled at home under the watchful eye of her blonde mother and the other priestesses. Her first though was that both mistresses and students looked formidable at first sighting, especially the mistresses and older girls, yet she felt pleased to see so many potential new friends. Yes, she told herself sternly, that is how I must think of them: new friends. Though feeling a little frightened, she lifted her chin and resolved to be brave and even managed a pretty smile. I like the feeling of age, she thought. This is an old place, and who knows exactly how many girls have stepped through these portals, to finally emerge as young ladies. The clock, affectionately referred to by the schoolgirls as 'Old Liza', chimed the hour, causing Elena to smile more broadly. How lovely, she thought. How perfect. Some things do not change, she mused, whether one is home or abroad. We have a clock tower back home, as well. Being given to flights of fancy, she wondered to herself if there were come mystical connexion between this clock and the clock back home - perhaps between all clocks, whereever they are, all guarded and guided by the Angel of Time. Why, she thought, if one looks properly, one could almost see the aetherial form of the Angel, poised over the clock tower. There was a feeling of rightness, of comfort, of things in place here, she thought. It was then that she first noticed the other young blondes in their maroon gymslips, berets very properly in place. Uniforms, she thought - but of course, after today, I shall be in uniform. I wonder how I shall look in my own uniform. Part of her dreaded it, perhaps because it would place a seal on her departure from home and make it truly real instead of a dream; but she had to admit that part of her could hardly wait to don her new clothing. Oh, then I shall truly be a part of this beautiful place. Oh, such things there will be to do and see! she thought. And the other girls my age - will they like me? Shall I like them? Oh, I am sure we will like each other. I can sense this is a good place, full of goodness and…and…of course, I shall be able to make friends. She felt excited - a little scared, but hardly able to wait for what would happen next. Though nervous, she felt a surge of gratitude toward her parents for choosing to send her here and offered a short, silent prayer of thanks. I wonder, she thought, if my newfound friends and I will have adventures together. For a moment, an image of a dashing brunette, clad in shining armour, mounted upon a high-spirited white charger flickered in her mind. She then chastened herself sharply: twelve is too young to be thinking such foolishness. Besides, around here, it is more likely to be a beautiful brunette prefect, bearing cane instead of sword - especially if I cannot refrain from daydreaming. With newfound resolve, she approached the high doors that lead to the blondes' dormitory, faithful Atalaya following behind with her luggage. She wanted to turn to Atalaya and cling to her as a last remnant of home, cast adrift as she was in this sea of strangers, but all she permitted herself was a brave little smile at Atalaya's tall, immaculately coifed and uniformed form. "Come, Atalaya. I believe this is the correct place." And so saying, crossed the threshold into the latest chapter of her life. 37 From: Kadorienne Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 11:49pm Subject: Veronica to Carrie & Caroline Carrie and Caroline, is it? I hope this doesn't get too confusing. Good thing y'all like to be called different things. Some of the girls do seem to be taking their time about getting here, don't they? No matter. That'll give us early birds a head start on the coursework. Though of course the mistresses don't give us so much work at the beginning, before everyone's here. And why are there so many more blondes than brunettes this year? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I, for one, like having blondes about! That little Elena -- d'you know she has a title? -- she's a lovely little thing. I can tell she's going to be a well-behaved girl, not a troublemaker like -- well, like some blondes. She'll probably be a prefect in a few years. And Ariadne has certainly created quite a stir. I can predict now all the trouble she'll cause -- not deliberately, you understand, but she'll be the motive for all sorts of brunette pranks involving strategically placed mistletoe this December, and I don't even want to think about St. Valentina's Day. And that little Katie -- she can't seem to decide if she wants to be a brat or a model girl. Well, I'm doing what I can to help her become the latter. So, anyway -- what? Other new blondes? No, I'm pretty sure those are all the new blondes I've met. I can't think of any other new blondes, honestly. So, anyway, I think we should find one or two more brunettes and all do something together this weekend. Play a game, maybe -- I don't suppose y'all know how to play baseball, do you? Oh, cricket? Well. Hm. Maybe we could go to Delmonte's Soda Fountain. Oh, I've got to show it to you new girls, it's stunning. Well, so what if you're still in knee socks? I don't suppose they're contagious. You both seem like such jolly brunettes, and just between us brunettes, after dealing with all those hysterical blondes during the blackout, I could use some cool-headed brunette company. And we seem to be outnumbered this year.... I'll see if I can find some other brunettes to join us. If you meet anyone you like, ask them. What? Joan and Suzanne? Well, I can't tell you who to be friends with even if I am a prefect, but as a girl who's been at this school for a while, I can tell you that Joan and Suzanne's companions tend to get smacked a lot. But you must do as you think best. So, is it to be Delmonte's? Terrific! Or, as you Altalians say, capital! Veronica 38 From: Date: Mon Sep 6, 1999 8:48pm Subject: Dear Diary... Dear Diary..: How quickly the day has flown by! thought Elena Dierrian as she stepped into the relative privacy of her curtained-off bed in the Blondes' Dormitory at Avendale. She began to undress, taking careful steps to ensure each garment was neatly folded or hung in the small wardrobe. It would never do, she thought, to be sloppy in such a place as Avendale. Avendale was a place of neatness, tidiness and order - not a place where a child might casually drop her garments upon the ground for the pleasure of observing a crisply-uniformed maidservant scurry to collect them from where they had been dropped. (Her brunette Mummy, Sheveya, always took a dim view of such exercises in power - such actions on the part of either of her children resulted in a thoroughly smacked bottom for the culprit. "We do not abuse those who serve us," Sheveya would intone in her deep, almost leonine voice.) She had already washed up. The girl shivered a little and pulled a crisp, white nightgown over her head. The plainest she possessed, it was embroidered at neck and wrists with small stars. It was long of sleeve and skirt and very warm. Over her nightrail, she pulled a matching robe, finally donning small, white slippers. She then sat carefully upon her narrow bed and began to unbraid her long, red hair. She felt tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, for this was a very special time of day when she and her blonde Mummy, Lady Miris, would talk quietly together in the way that some blondes will. It was a time for Mummy to tell fairy tales or speak of the Celestial Powers, all the while gently brushing out Elena's long tresses. "One hundred strokes, my darling, will make it soft and shiny." Sometimes, Mummy would sit on a low stool, and then, wonder of wonders, allow her younger daughter to brush out her long, silken hair - hair as fine as a baby's and almost white in colour, with a hint of golden sunshine caught in its strands. Unbound, it reached to Lady Miris' delicate ankles. "Fairy's hair!" her daughter would exclaim with delight. Elena liked to imagine her blonde Mummy to be a fay, from the aetherial realms… "Oh my, what a watering can I am becoming," she whispered, feeling homesick tears on her cheeks. "Stop it, Elena, stop it this instant," she scolded herself. "D-do you want the other girls to think you are nothing but a crybaby?" After some moments, the tears ceased and the child regained some of her previous composure. Her hair once again neatly braided for sleep, she took from a drawer a small diary volume and began to write. "Dear Diary, "Here shall begin my Journal of my Days at Avendale. My name is Elena Dierrian, and I am twelve years of age, just this Spring. I am the younger daughter of Lady Miris and Lady Sheveya and the younger sister of Elara, who, being brunette, will follow in Sheveya's footsteps as a Constabelle and keeper of the Peace. I am recently arrived here at Avendale to educated in the ways of the West and to learn how to be a proper young Lady. "This day has flown by in a blur. I was dropped off at the Blondes' Dormitory by Atalaya, who is our Chauffeuse. Once my traps were secure, Atalaya escorted me for my first interview with Miss Dorothea Maitland, she who is Headmistress of Avendale. I must tell you, Diary, that I was quite terrified at first, and did not know what to expect, but Miss Maitland turned out to be quite comforting, in a very no-nonsense way. She welcomed to formally to Avendale and delineated what would be expected of me, both in deportment and scholastically. I have not yet met any of the other Mistresses, but I expect I shall on the morrow. "I did not precisely meet any of the other girls, though I saw many of them as I navigated my way through the dark-panelled corridors. The Senior brunettes look so smart in their grey pleated skirts and white blouses, and their ties give them an almost military air. They seem dashing, yet daunting. But I must confess to being as timid as a new kitten - most all the older girls seemed formidable - even the blondes. I saw one blonde who simply must be a prefect, for she wore a red sash with a shield-shaped badge. I heard another, younger blonde address her as 'Miss Annalinde.' "Well, Diary, that is all I shall write for tonight. I feel sleep overtaking me, and I must yet say my prayers before going to sleep. Good night!" Elena closed the small volume, put it away carefully, then solemnly knelt beside her bed and bowed her head. Prayers said, she got into bed and snuggled under the blankets. She was asleep in minutes. 39 From: Date: Tue Sep 7, 1999 1:54am Subject: Jinjur Jinjur awoke in the middle of the night. She could hear Old Liza striking three, but she was used to that; that hadn't woken her up. As so often happens when we wake up in the wee sma's, Jinjur already had a unbidden thought clear in her head. What in the world had she gotten up to with Suzanne yesterday? Oh, it wasn't as if she had never let a brunette take a liberty before. But not so many, and not all at once. What *had* come over her? Perhaps the excitem