her by comparing breast sizes and shapes, all of them eager competitors in the development race. Jeanette was a long way behind most of the other thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds in her class and did not care much for the comparisons. To add to her feelings of inadequacy, her periods had not even started yet.
Jeanette rinsed her mouth, spat into the basin, dabbed her lips with a face-cloth, and dumped her toiletries into her pink plastic washbag. She padded to the door, bare feet nearly slipping on the wet tiles, then hurried along the gloomy corridor, leaving damp footprints on the polished floorboards in her wake. Bare feet were forbidden inside the school, but she had not had time to rummage beneath her bed for skulking slippers, and besides, everyone, staff included, would be downstairs by now tucking into breakfast.
It was shivery in the dormitory she shared with five other girls, despite the bright sun outside, and Jeanette quickly laid out her underwear, plain regulation navy-blue panties and white vest, on the narrow, rumpled bed. Shrugging off her quilted dressing gown, she pulled her pyjama top off over her head without undoing the buttons and threw it onto the bed alongside the underwear. She briskly rubbed at the sudden goose-pimples on her arms as if to brush them off, then reached for the vest. Before pulling on the garment, she paused to examine her chest and sighed at its complacency. The nipples were longish, erect now because of the chill, but the tiny mounds they thrust from were, as usual, a disappointment. She tweaked the nipples to make them harder and tugged at the soft bumps to encourage growth. A delicate flush of pleasure warmed her and she imagined her breasts had swelled a little more. She sat on the bed, still in her pyjama bottoms, and cupped a mound in each hand. It felt pleasant and she wondered what it would be like if… No, no time for that - she was late enough already!
She stripped off the pyjama legs and swiftly donned vest, panties, and white socks retrieved from the bottom drawer of her bedside locker. Since the weather had changed for the better, La Roche girls were allowed their light blue, short-sleeved summer dresses and Jeanette shrugged on hers, shoes, badly in need of a polish, following. She tidied the bed, hiding her nightwear beneath the sheets, then grabbed a brush and attacked her long, tangled hair, wincing at her efforts. The small blue-rimmed mirror, a china butterfly frozen on one top corner, standing on top of the locker, reflected the results, which were not pleasing. In spite of her haste Jeanette leaned close and examined her face for overnight blemishes. She had almost entirely cut out chocolate and did her utmost, puke-making though it was, to finish off all the green vegetables on her dinner plate, but the spots came up with predictable regularity, and nearly always on special occasions. But there - today wasn't special, only rotten exams, and her skin was clear! She bet that on her wedding day there would be at least five zits to every square inch of flesh on her face and she'd have to wear a veil all through the ceremony and she'd be afraid to lift it afterwards for her husband's kiss and when she eventually did she would look like an ice-cream topped with raspberry pips.
Jeanette moved even closer to the blue-rimmed mirror, looking deep into her own dark eyes, dreamily wondering if she could see the future there. She had been scolded enough by her parents and tutors alike for spending too much time day-dreaming and not enough time thinking, and she had tried to concentrate on more serious things, but after a few minutes her mind always drifted inwards and became lost in her own fantasies. She tried, she tried, but it seemed her thoughts had a separate will. To look through a window at the sky meant seeing herself soar over tree tops, swooping down into valleys, skimming over white-crested oceans, not as a bird but as her own
Jeanette rinsed her mouth, spat into the basin, dabbed her lips with a face-cloth, and dumped her toiletries into her pink plastic washbag. She padded to the door, bare feet nearly slipping on the wet tiles, then hurried along the gloomy corridor, leaving damp footprints on the polished floorboards in her wake. Bare feet were forbidden inside the school, but she had not had time to rummage beneath her bed for skulking slippers, and besides, everyone, staff included, would be downstairs by now tucking into breakfast.
It was shivery in the dormitory she shared with five other girls, despite the bright sun outside, and Jeanette quickly laid out her underwear, plain regulation navy-blue panties and white vest, on the narrow, rumpled bed. Shrugging off her quilted dressing gown, she pulled her pyjama top off over her head without undoing the buttons and threw it onto the bed alongside the underwear. She briskly rubbed at the sudden goose-pimples on her arms as if to brush them off, then reached for the vest. Before pulling on the garment, she paused to examine her chest and sighed at its complacency. The nipples were longish, erect now because of the chill, but the tiny mounds they thrust from were, as usual, a disappointment. She tweaked the nipples to make them harder and tugged at the soft bumps to encourage growth. A delicate flush of pleasure warmed her and she imagined her breasts had swelled a little more. She sat on the bed, still in her pyjama bottoms, and cupped a mound in each hand. It felt pleasant and she wondered what it would be like if… No, no time for that - she was late enough already!
She stripped off the pyjama legs and swiftly donned vest, panties, and white socks retrieved from the bottom drawer of her bedside locker. Since the weather had changed for the better, La Roche girls were allowed their light blue, short-sleeved summer dresses and Jeanette shrugged on hers, shoes, badly in need of a polish, following. She tidied the bed, hiding her nightwear beneath the sheets, then grabbed a brush and attacked her long, tangled hair, wincing at her efforts. The small blue-rimmed mirror, a china butterfly frozen on one top corner, standing on top of the locker, reflected the results, which were not pleasing. In spite of her haste Jeanette leaned close and examined her face for overnight blemishes. She had almost entirely cut out chocolate and did her utmost, puke-making though it was, to finish off all the green vegetables on her dinner plate, but the spots came up with predictable regularity, and nearly always on special occasions. But there - today wasn't special, only rotten exams, and her skin was clear! She bet that on her wedding day there would be at least five zits to every square inch of flesh on her face and she'd have to wear a veil all through the ceremony and she'd be afraid to lift it afterwards for her husband's kiss and when she eventually did she would look like an ice-cream topped with raspberry pips.
Jeanette moved even closer to the blue-rimmed mirror, looking deep into her own dark eyes, dreamily wondering if she could see the future there. She had been scolded enough by her parents and tutors alike for spending too much time day-dreaming and not enough time thinking, and she had tried to concentrate on more serious things, but after a few minutes her mind always drifted inwards and became lost in her own fantasies. She tried, she tried, but it seemed her thoughts had a separate will. To look through a window at the sky meant seeing herself soar over tree tops, swooping down into valleys, skimming over white-crested oceans, not as a bird but as her own
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