• He had bloodshot eyes and breath a dog would shy from. He stammered a string of profanities that would put a sailor to shame, and still Aline did not cower.

    "Grey!"

    Hunther spun on his heel with his hands around his skull.

    "What are you doing?" asked the professor.

    Hunther Grey didn't answer, but he left the room in a concentrated rage. The professor watched as he stormed out of the room, but only shook his head as a response.

    "Thank you," Aline said hesitantly, but he didn't even glance her way.


    The rest of class was easy. The professor spit notes at you to transfer to paper, and Aline was never picked to answer any questions or contribute to a discussion. And so, class ended without any proper education involved.

    Bedtime wasn't as easy, however. Because Aline was disappointed in her class, she spent a good hour or so using scriptures to understand her notes from class.

    She didn't remember going to sleep. But she did, and she woke up sore and holding the family Bible. It wouldn't be hard to suppose that the harsh knocking on her door was what woke her.

    "Aline! Aline! Aline!"

    The knocking persisted, but Aline didn't move.

    "ALINE!"

    "I'm coming," she called from her bed.

    She was stretching all the way to the door, and it was no surprise that Victoire was standing opposite her when it was opened. Her bottom lip trembled a spell, then her arms were around Aline's neck and she was locked in a tight embrace.

    "Aline," her voice wavered, "I heard that you gave up a private supper with the Headmaster for my sake!"

    "I did," Aline stated.

    "Oh, I love you, sister," Victoire held her at arm's length. "Forgive me for last night."

    "No, forgive me. I didn't respect your wishes." Aline's words sounded broken as she examined her sister's dissheveled appearance. "You don't look your normal self today."

    "Don't I?" Victoire groaned, "I figured as much; I haven't been able to find a mirror for days now. Do you think that when you finally have supper with the Headmaster, you might make a little request?"

    "Absolutely not!" she snapped.

    "Aline! Please? Think of me."

    "I may, I may not. Don't count on it."

    "Fine," Victoire declared, "Then I will write a letter to Mother and Father asking them to send one."

    "A whole mirror!" Aline exclaimed. "Ask for a small one, at most!"

    "Yes, yes. I will. Now, about my supper arrangements; have they said anything to you?"

    "No, it only happened last night, and I wasn't talking directly to the Head...master," Aline assumed a blank expression. "Victoire," she started, "how do you know about that?"

    "Oh!" Victoire stammered, "A man from my class told me."

    "When?"

    "During tonight's midnight break, of course!"

    "Liar!" Aline spat her words like venom, "You haven't had class yet. The bell hasn't tolled! He told you last night, didn't he? In your room!"

    "Now, Aline...." Victoire trailed off.

    "Admit it!"

    "Yes," she sighed, "He was with me last night, but I assure you-"

    Aline cut her off with a frustrated scream.


    The class that night was the same routine, and the professor had yet to lock eyes with Aline at any point. As demeaning as it was, she dismissed it.

    It's no worry of mine, she told herself, if he doesn't want to acknowledge his students.

    Everything was fine until the students left for their supper. For Hunther Grey had leaned across his desk and called:

    "Hello there!"

    "I suppose you want me to dine with the Headmaster again?"

    "Of course not!" he scratched through his red locks as he hollered. "He's out on special business tonight. You're eating with me."

    "I am not!" Subtlety had been eliminated.

    "Oh but you are," he protested with a smile, "Because your sister ate tonight, and she will eat tomorrow night, and the night after."

    Aline took a deep breath and then said:

    "I said that an audience with the Headmaster wasn't necessary until arrangements were made for my sister."

    No! she scolded herself for the poor choice of words.

    "But you didn't say anything about me in the first place, mademoiselle. And you must eat sometime." He had seen through her words before she said them.

    "No," she objected, but she had already lost the battle and admitted defeat.

    With a toothy smile and an intimidating laugh, he remarked:

    "This way to the Dining Hall, cherie!"