For the time being, I concentrated my efforts on blending in at St. Albert's. I observed my classmates and their interactions with each other, but especially their interactions with Natalie.

As Natalie had told me, St. Albert's took pride in teaching their students in small classes. My roommate and myself included, we were altogether only fourteen girls in this Upper Fifth.

There was the girl Natalie had introduced to me on my first day at St. Albert's: Nancy Kerrington, the oldest daughter of Lord Kerrington, Fourth Earl of Leines. Nancy was Natalie's best friend at our school.

There was Mallory Carmichael, Natalie's former roommate. Slim, with beautiful reddish-blond hair and luminous green eyes. A girl who could charm your pants off of you, but who could just as easily act extremely nasty and sarcastic. She rather enjoyed provoking both her teachers and her classmates and she loved to be at the center of attention. Everybody was still talking about the extravagant party Mallory had thrown to celebrate her sixteenth birthday, two weeks ago. A party involving all sorts of treats and a lot of booze, or so I had heard. Mallory could be as prim and proper as a model student. But she also could, and did,  devise and carry out all kinds of of mischief. She reminded me a bit of the elves as they were depicted in a certain type of high fantasy novel: creatures of magic and glamour that refused to fit into our plain old human categories of light versus dark, good versus evil.

Then there were the Turner twins, Debbie and Jen, famous for pulling the most outrageous pranks, which invariably got them into serious trouble. I had been told that in the past they had paid dearly for their transgressions. Or rather, their butts had paid dearly. Not that this had ever deterred them or anything.

Eunice Ndemba was the only black girl among us. Rumor had it that she was the daughter of the ruling monarch of a small African country that had only recently gained its independence. Eunice's best friend was Erin Morgan, a beautiful girl from Wales. The two girls shared a room in our dorm.

There were Helen Langden and Jessica Burns, another pair of friends. They were 'very close' friends, as a girl from the other Upper Fifth had informed me, with a grin. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Finally, there was a group of four girls whose parents were rich. Girls who were not shy about showing that they could afford better and more expensive things than their classmates could. Eleanor Bradford, Carol Mellon, Barbara Lane and Dorothy Barnett.

I tried to get along with everyone, students and teachers alike. To blend in. And I thought I was doing a reasonably good job. Then, rather unexpectedly, the long-standing feud between Natalie and our Geometry teacher, Ms Gablins, escalated.

One might say that it was Natalie herself who caused this particular incident, this time. She had taken great pleasure in pointing out a logical mistake that our teacher had committed, in a proof Ms Gablins had taken pains to demonstrate on the blackboard during the last five minutes.

"Thus," Natalie concluded, with a triumphant smile, "your entire argument is faulty and can in no way be used to prove Theorem Four."

The expression on Ms Gablin's face was that of a person who had bitten into something that tasted not particularly good.

"There is no need to rub it in like that, Fogg," she replied. "You may be fairly smart, I will grant you that . But you have repeatedly shown that you lack modesty and the most basic manners that are considered essential at our school."

"Hear, hear," Dorothy Barnett commented.

Her three friends – Eleanor, Carol and  Barbara – nodded vigorously. I had already noticed that the 'rich girls' appeared to entertain a certain degree of animosity towards my roommate, though I had no idea why that should be so.

"We all know that you are here at St. Albert's on sufferance only, Fogg," Ms Gablins added.

"I am here not on sufferance but on a scholarship," Natalie pointed out. "As you know, there is a difference between those two, Miss."

There was slight titter coming from several of her classmates.

"A scholarship means that I am considered to be particularly bright," Natalie helpfully explained.

"It mostly means that your parents are unable to support you financially," our teacher retorted. "But wait, in your case there are not even any parents in attendance, are there? Your parents abandoned you and left you to be raised in an orphanage. Isn't that so, Fogg?"

Natalie flushed. "That is untrue," she snapped. "Nobody knows what happened with my parents."

The tension in the classroom was almost palpable at this point. None of us girls liked where this was going. Even Barnett and her cronies were looking uncomfortable now.

Ms Gablins was red in her face, too. "They must have had their reasons, to leave you behind the way they did," she shouted.

Our teacher had lost her temper, I will give her that. But even so, what she had just said was completely outrageous.

Apparently, Natalie thought so, too.

"At least I am intelligent enough to avoid the most elementary logical mistakes," she shot back. "Which is more than can be said about you."

There was a moment of shocked silence.

Eventually it was Ms Gablins who spoke. "Fogg, you are to pay a visit to your tutor. Now." She took a yellow slip of paper from the desk drawer and wrote on it. "Your tutor will discuss your unacceptable behavior with you and I expect she will also administer some much-needed discipline." She walked over to Natalie's desk and handed her the yellow piece of paper. "Now go."

"Yes, Miss."

Natalie left the classroom, and the Geometry lesson continued.

A bit later, Natalie returned. She was making an obvious effort to act casual as she handed back the yellow slip of paper.

Of course Ms Gablins could not, or would not leave it at that.

"So, do you have anything to say to me, Fogg?"

"Yes, Miss." My roommate took a deep breath. "I apologize for speaking rashly and out of turn, and I deeply regret my inappropriate behavior in class."

To me, it sounded like something she had prepared and memorized, possibly with the help of her tutor. If Ms Gablins suspected that, too, she did not let on. Or perhaps she did not care.

"Very well." Our teacher smiled. "You may return to your seat now, Fogg."

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief as Natalie walked back to take her seat.

*********************************************************************

A / N :   Thank you for reading this chapter, and don't hesitate to post your thoughts or comments, I am always interested in your feedback.