“It was most peculiar,” Ariadne replied. “She—” Ariadne paused mid-sentence as Muriel came to stand right next to her.
“What do you do for games, Ariadne?” Muriel asked, as if they were the best of chums.
Ariadne gaped for a moment. “Um,” she said, “I quite like chess.”
Muriel brushed her blonde hair back from her face. “I meant … what sport do you like?”
“Hockey,” Ariadne said, when she’d recovered enough from the fact that her former bully was trying to make small talk.
“Oh, right,” said Muriel. “That sounds good. See you at the next lesson, then.” She smiled shyly and headed out of the art room.
Ariadne still looked horrified. I went over and shook her shoulder gently. “Come on,” I said. “We’d better get going.”
“Is she going to pick hockey too?” Ariadne wailed.
Ivy looked up at me. “Would that be so terrible?”
“I manage to score enough bruises on my own without her getting involved,” our friend replied sadly. “She’ll probably knock me into the goal on purpose. Or try to hit my legs out from under me. Or shoot the ball into my face. Or …”
“She won’t,” I said. “I told you that I’ll see to her if she does anything like that to you.”
Ariadne’s head sank on to the desk, her hair narrowly missing a pot of paint. “Perhaps I should just take up swimming instead.”
I think the same thoughts ran through all of our heads. Miss Bowler. The freezing-cold swimming pool. The lake from the school trip, where Ariadne had felt something grabbing her leg …
“Perhaps not,” we all said in unison.
We made our way to the hall, where the sign-up sheets for the different sports were pinned on the boards. Of course, there was no question of what Ivy and I were going to pick. We’d loved ballet for years, even if it had got us into trouble in the past. Although that was usually more my fault than the ballet’s.
Ariadne had gone from hating hockey to enjoying it. I saw her face fall as she watched Muriel sign her name on the sheet. Still, she went over and added her name below it. I gave her a reassuring pat on the back as I walked past.
“It’ll be fine,” I said.
“Fine for you, maybe,” Ariadne grumbled.
Miss Bowler was marching around like an army sergeant, as usual. She seemed to be relishing the extra power she’d been given now that Mrs Knight was headmistress. “Girls!” she barked periodically. “Sign up and get in your groups!”
We were amongst the usual ballet crowd, minus the girls who had left the school. Madame Zelda was standing beside us, waving an incense stick (which was something she liked to do for no apparent reason).
After a lot of hustle and bustle, everyone was finally in their groups.
Everyone except Ebony.
She was standing in the middle of the hall, her boots firmly planted, her arms folded, her black hair tumbling over her sleeves.
Miss Bowler strode over to her. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, Miss McCloud?”
“I won’t be picking a sport,” said Ebony matter-of-factly.
Miss Bowler looked flabbergasted. “Excuse me? And why ever not, missy?”
Ebony’s lip curled with the ghost of a satisfied smile. “Because I don’t want to.”
Everyone gasped. I couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. This girl had some nerve. You didn’t speak to a teacher like that – and certainly not the strict games teacher – unless you wanted to receive a deafening lecture and then be forced to clean all the green gunk out of the swimming pool.
But as we all braced ourselves for the impact … nothing happened. Miss Bowler just blinked at her and then said, “Fine. But you’ll be writing essays this hour every week. Understand?” Then she stormed away, muttering under her breath.
Ebony nodded, turned on her heel and left the hall. She was still smiling.
“What exactly just happened back there?” Nadia asked.
“I wouldn’t get away with that,” Penny grumbled.
Ivy looked at me. “You have to admit, that was strange,” she said. “That’s the second time today that she’s just been let off the hook.”
“I know.” I shuffled my feet on the floor. I was itching to get back into my ballet shoes. “It’s like …”
“Like she’s got the teachers under a spell,” said Nadia from behind us, her eyes wide.
“You’re older now, girls,” Miss Finch said. “Things are going to get harder. We’ll need you all to be on your best behaviour.”
Madame Zelda nodded, tapping her long fingernails on her arm. “Discipline, discipline, discipline,” she said in her unusual accent. “Work hard, and you will reap the rewards.”
It was harder. The two teachers pushed us to do moves that were more difficult than we’d ever done before. I could feel my muscles stretching to their limits, my joints clicking as I pulled them into unfamiliar positions.
By the end of it, when we went into reverence and bowed and curtseyed to the teachers, I was exhausted. Scarlet and I sat down to unlace our shoes, breathless.
I stared at my face in the mirror, my hair already falling out of my tight bun. Madame Zelda walked past. “Well done, Ivy,” she said, “and Scarlet. Both of you did your best today.”
I smiled, but something about the sight of Madame Zelda made my thoughts return to Ebony and what Nadia had said. She did seem to have some sort of power over the teachers. But what that could be, I had no idea.
Feeling drained after the long day, we made our way to Rookwood’s dining hall for supper. I hated to say it, but I was actually looking forward to the food. The air was filled with chatter, as always.
We met Ariadne in the queue. Thankfully, she didn’t look any more bruised than usual so Muriel couldn’t have hurt her.
“Nothing happened,” she said with a shrug. “Muriel just played hockey. I couldn’t believe it!”
“I told you so,” Scarlet said. “I think she must have really changed. Nothing to worry about.”
“Until she murders me in my sleep,” said Ariadne with a theatrical shudder. But I was pretty certain she was joking.
I looked around at the rows of long tables. Both Muriel and Ebony appeared to have been placed in Mayhew House, judging by where they