inch of seam with her fingers, looking for irregularities in texture.
While Amelia watched, Sister Twitchett pulled a lump of fabric about the size of a walnut out of Amelia's skirt pocket. It looked like a ribbon or sash that had been knotted and reknotted into a snarl. Twitchett picked at it disinterestedly and, when she could not get it open, shrugged and replaced it in the pocket.
Amelia wondered, Why are they searching my clothes? Nosy grown-ups.
Amelia hurriedly lay down and composed her best innocent face as Twitchett came bustling through the door with the school uniform draped over one arm.
'And remember to put on the necktie!' ordered the Sister.
Amelia grimaced.
4.
The other patient in the infirmary had his hand wrapped in a bandage, and his little finger was clamped in a tiny banana-shaped tube of metal. He was a dark-haired man with sad, tired eyes. The second odd thing Amelia saw was that the man hesitated before introducing himself, as if he had forgotten his own name for a moment. His name was Miles Drinkwater, the new civics teacher. In the spring, he would serve as a coach for a swimming team to be formed. He had hurt himself, naturally enough, swimming.
'I was out of my depth, Miss Windrose,' he said.
Amelia thought she detected a slight accent in his voice, as if he perhaps were Italian or Greek, despite his English up-country name.
But what was that look of fear in his eye? Teenagers can sense fear like dogs, and Amelia somehow knew that she intimidated Mr. Drinkwater.
She thought she knew why. Amelia, it must be recalled, was a little proud about her good looks, which she had wished upon herself in youth by staring into a mirror. So Amelia made a point of holding his hand a bit too long when shaking hands, and standing half a step too close, and dropping her eyelids shyly, toying with her richly hated necktie, and doing the little bits of stage business she thought of as 'Vanity stuff.'
Mr. Drinkwater did seem mildly taken aback, puzzled, and then amused. As if he had been locked in a cage with a raging lioness, only to discover her to be a circus animal, quite tame, doing gentle children's tricks, balancing on balls or leaping hoops or something. He visibly relaxed.
It was the opposite of the expected reaction. Amelia did not know what she did wrong, but she knew she did not do 'Vanity stuff' as well as Vanity did. Vamping takes practice, and Amelia (usually) thought such tricks were beneath her.
Humiliating.
Amelia thanked the new teacher, was excused, and walked down the corridor away from the infirmary.
She did not bother swaying her hips or darting coy glances over her shoulder back at him. She knew already that she had endangered her grade from Mr. Drinkwater for that quarter, and she had not attended a single lecture yet. Great, just great.
It was just one of the little arbitrary things that can ruin a young girl's morning. Adults forget what it is like not to be able just to shrug things off, not to have any of the important things in your life under your own control.
5.
Outside, Amelia leaned against one of the leafless trees lining the carriage circle before the main house. It was a spot she liked, out of direct line of sight of any windows either from the Manor House or the Great Hall.
She shrugged one shoulder out of her coat, rolled up her sleeve. Amelia rubbed her upper arm and stared at it. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.
And yet, clear and persistent, there was a sensation coming from her upper arm. Not just a sensation, but an emotion. Her arm liked her. Her arm was friendly. A warm, tail-wagging, puppy-like, unabashed friendliness radiated from one motionless spot above her elbow.
6.
Vanity was overjoyed to see her; the two girls met with hugs and little hopping dances of joy. 'I didn't have anyone to talk to for a week! It gave me the screaming meemies!'
Vanity had apparently suffered a bout of pneumonia, as well, but recovered four days ago. The only odd thing about her recovery was that Dr. Fell had prescribed 'alternative medicine' for her. Instead of just being injected with some drug, Vanity had spent a day drinking odd herbal tea and sniffing candles of incenses concocted by Mrs. Wren ('aromatherapy') and listening to Miss Daw play her wonderful lilting violin ('music therapy'). It was odd, but it seemed to work, for Vanity felt refreshed and content afterwards.
'I think it was just that I got out of classes for a day! Of course I felt better!' Vanity exclaimed, giggling.
Amelia said, 'Have you ever had a body part of yours feel… well… friendly?'
Vanity's huge green eyes glittered. 'Colin has. Let me tell you the filthy thing he said about his you-know-what. We're sitting in seminar, and he's holding his pencil in his pocket, and poking up the front of his trousers every time Miss Daw walks by. You know. So his zipper is like… You know!
Looks like it's throbbing. I couldn't keep from giggling. So Miss Daw spots him. He says, bold as brass,
'Why, Miss Daw, I find lectures about high-energy physics to be most exciting! And my fellow student, Mr. Lovejoy…''
Amelia stood up and stared out the window. Outside, moving with slow, painful hops among the dry bushes and the leafless trees, trying to push a wheelbarrow, was Mr. Glum, the groundskeeper.
'What happened to the groundskeeper… ?' asked Amelia in a voice of horror.
Vanity said, 'Chopped his own foot off with an axe or something. Pretty clumsy, if you ask me. I say he deserves it. Filthy old man. He's always giving me such looks!'
Amelia said quietly, 'You're a horrible person, Vanity. Pitiless and cruel. Go away and leave me alone.'
'Well, what's wrong with you? He
