trembling hand.
“Big surprise there, Usher! Not!” Lilith snickered.
Annabelle was the last of a once-fabled line who had fallen on such hard times she did not have a dresser to see to her appearance before leaving the house. As a result, the poor girl usually came to school looking like a Barbie doll that had fallen into the hands of a sadistic little brother.
“Like ballet, you cannot master camouflage unless you can see what you’re doing wrong. I want each and every one of you to line up and step in front of the cheval and look at yourself first full face, then profile, and then over your shoulder. And, Miss Usher, I want you to be the first in line.”
The students got out of their desks and formed a single line, with Annabelle serving as its reluctant head.
When she stepped up to the mirror, her gaze was firmly fixed on her shoes instead of on the silvered glass in front of her.
“Go ahead and look at yourself, Annabelle,” Madame Boucher said gently. “There’s nothing to fear.” Annabelle hesitantly raised her eyes, slowly tracking up her legs and torso until she reached her face.
She stared for a long moment at her crudely drawn 110
eyebrows and the clownlike splotches of rouge on her cheeks, then dashed from the room in tears.
“Can you believe that spod didn’t know how horrible she looks?” Lilith snickered as she stepped up to take Annabelle’s place in front of the mirror. Instead of flinching or cringing at the sight of her reflection, Lilith casually flipped the hair out of her face.
“Excellent form, Lilith,” Madame Boucher said approvingly. “Very confident and self-assured.” As she watched her sister turn away from the mirror, Cally found herself feeling bad for all the mean things she’d said and thought about Lilith—not to mention kissing her boyfriend at the Viral Room last night.
They were siblings, after all. Even if Lilith didn’t know that was the case, she did, and she had been raised to honor family ties.
“Nice job, Lilith,” Cally said as she walked back to her desk.
Lilith turned and glared at Cally as if she’d just hocked a loogie at the side of her head. “ What do you mean by that, New Blood?”
“I was just trying to compliment you on how you handled yourself in front of the mirror, that’s all. You did it like a pro.”
“Are you insinuating that I like to look at myself?” Lilith hissed, her blue eyes flashing.
“No, I was just being nice, Lilith.”
“Brownnosing is more like it,” Lilith spat. “What 111
are you trying to pull, Monture?”
“Miss Todd! Miss Monture! What’s going on here?” Madame Boucher asked as she moved to separate the two girls.
“She said I was a mirror junkie!”
“I said no such thing! She’s lying!” Cally protested.
“Miss Monture, I will not tolerate you insulting others in my class!” Madame Boucher said sternly.
“But—”
“Not another word, Miss Monture!” Madame Boucher’s beehive hairdo jiggled wildly atop her head as she wagged a finger in Cally’s face. “I do not tolerate troublemakers, is that understood?”
“Yes, Madame Boucher,” Cally said, biting her tongue and dropping her eyes in deference.
“What else can you expect from someone like her?” Lilith sneered. “Her mother’s a slut.” Without any warning, lightning leaped from Cally’s left hand, and for a fleeting second she was tempted to let it strike Lilith. Instead, she snapped her hand back, like a cowboy cracking a bullwhip, and sent the deadly charge arcing in the opposite direction.
The other girls standing in line scattered, scream-ing in terror, as the lightning bolt flew past them and struck the mirror, shattering it to bits.
“My mirror!” Madame Boucher wailed in disbelief.
“Do you realize what you’ve done, you wretched child?!
That was an original Chippendale!”
112
“I’m sorry, Madame Boucher!” Cally said as she stared at the smoldering remains. “It was an
“Big surprise there, Usher! Not!” Lilith snickered.
Annabelle was the last of a once-fabled line who had fallen on such hard times she did not have a dresser to see to her appearance before leaving the house. As a result, the poor girl usually came to school looking like a Barbie doll that had fallen into the hands of a sadistic little brother.
“Like ballet, you cannot master camouflage unless you can see what you’re doing wrong. I want each and every one of you to line up and step in front of the cheval and look at yourself first full face, then profile, and then over your shoulder. And, Miss Usher, I want you to be the first in line.”
The students got out of their desks and formed a single line, with Annabelle serving as its reluctant head.
When she stepped up to the mirror, her gaze was firmly fixed on her shoes instead of on the silvered glass in front of her.
“Go ahead and look at yourself, Annabelle,” Madame Boucher said gently. “There’s nothing to fear.” Annabelle hesitantly raised her eyes, slowly tracking up her legs and torso until she reached her face.
She stared for a long moment at her crudely drawn 110
eyebrows and the clownlike splotches of rouge on her cheeks, then dashed from the room in tears.
“Can you believe that spod didn’t know how horrible she looks?” Lilith snickered as she stepped up to take Annabelle’s place in front of the mirror. Instead of flinching or cringing at the sight of her reflection, Lilith casually flipped the hair out of her face.
“Excellent form, Lilith,” Madame Boucher said approvingly. “Very confident and self-assured.” As she watched her sister turn away from the mirror, Cally found herself feeling bad for all the mean things she’d said and thought about Lilith—not to mention kissing her boyfriend at the Viral Room last night.
They were siblings, after all. Even if Lilith didn’t know that was the case, she did, and she had been raised to honor family ties.
“Nice job, Lilith,” Cally said as she walked back to her desk.
Lilith turned and glared at Cally as if she’d just hocked a loogie at the side of her head. “ What do you mean by that, New Blood?”
“I was just trying to compliment you on how you handled yourself in front of the mirror, that’s all. You did it like a pro.”
“Are you insinuating that I like to look at myself?” Lilith hissed, her blue eyes flashing.
“No, I was just being nice, Lilith.”
“Brownnosing is more like it,” Lilith spat. “What 111
are you trying to pull, Monture?”
“Miss Todd! Miss Monture! What’s going on here?” Madame Boucher asked as she moved to separate the two girls.
“She said I was a mirror junkie!”
“I said no such thing! She’s lying!” Cally protested.
“Miss Monture, I will not tolerate you insulting others in my class!” Madame Boucher said sternly.
“But—”
“Not another word, Miss Monture!” Madame Boucher’s beehive hairdo jiggled wildly atop her head as she wagged a finger in Cally’s face. “I do not tolerate troublemakers, is that understood?”
“Yes, Madame Boucher,” Cally said, biting her tongue and dropping her eyes in deference.
“What else can you expect from someone like her?” Lilith sneered. “Her mother’s a slut.” Without any warning, lightning leaped from Cally’s left hand, and for a fleeting second she was tempted to let it strike Lilith. Instead, she snapped her hand back, like a cowboy cracking a bullwhip, and sent the deadly charge arcing in the opposite direction.
The other girls standing in line scattered, scream-ing in terror, as the lightning bolt flew past them and struck the mirror, shattering it to bits.
“My mirror!” Madame Boucher wailed in disbelief.
“Do you realize what you’ve done, you wretched child?!
That was an original Chippendale!”
112
“I’m sorry, Madame Boucher!” Cally said as she stared at the smoldering remains. “It was an
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