When I heard that our school secretary Sandra Bale was taking a day off, I did not hesitate. I remembered that Mallory had told me there existed an entire file about Natty at St. Albert's, a file kept either in the secretary's office or in the headmistress's office.

It was that time immediately after last period. when classes were over and the students made a brief detour to their dorm rooms to apply make-up before taking the bus to Arlesten. I had been looking forward to applying my lock-picking skills, but as it turned out that proved unnecessary. Disappointingly, Sandra's office was unlocked. Making sure that there was nobody in the corridor watching me, I opened the door and slipped inside, taking care to close the door behind myself.

Apparently, the room had been used as a small classroom before it had been transformed into the secretary's office, for there were a still a blackboard and a teacher's desk. On the opposite wall, behind Sandra's desk, there were a set of shelves and a big closet, filled with folders and files.

Somehow, I had not anticipated the possibility that it was going to take some time and effort for me to find Natty's file. I started to read the labels written on each of those rows upon rows of files, but nowhere did I find the name Fogg written on the back of a file. Either her file was not here, or else her folder bore some label other than her name.

Just when I was about to give up and leave, the door to the office opened.

"We might as well take care of that in here, Carmichael," I heard Ms Gablins announce from the corridor.

Mallory Carmichael stepped inside. When she saw me standing next to the shelves, she first looked surprised and then rolled her eyes.

I ducked behind the desk just as Ms Gablins entered the room and closed the door behind herself. Peering around the side of the desk, I registered that our geometry teacher was holding a cane.

"As I was saying, it is stated clearly in the Rules and Regulations of St. Albert's that physical fights between students will never be tolerated at this school," Ms Gablins declared.

"I am aware of that, Miss."

"Then why did you attack your classmate Fogg? Did she provoke you perhaps, with something she did or said?"

Mallory considered that. "No, Miss. She was merely speaking the truth, Miss."

The teacher frowned. "In that case, why did you hit her in the first place? Granted, Fogg is an awful nuisance and she can be annoying as hell. I would be the first to admit that."

Unexpectedly, Mallory smiled. "Speak for yourself, Miss."

The teacher turned on her, looking incredulous. "What was that, Carmichael?"

Mallory blanched. "Um, what I actually meant to say, was ..."

"My colleagues warned me about you, Carmichael. I can see now that they were right. You think that you are so smart, don't you? Smarter than all your teachers. But you are not going to get away with it, this time." She glared at the girl. "What?"

Mallory had opened her mouth, perhaps to make some sort of protest or objection, but she quickly thought better of it. "Nothing, Miss."

It occurred to me, not for the first time, that there must be something seriously wrong with Ms Gablins. As a rule, teachers at St. Albert's were strict and did not hesitate to discipline students. Nevertheless our Geometry teacher differed from other teachers at this school in that she could be incredibly mean, if not downright sadistic. I did not know what might have caused her to become like that, but I deeply resented the way she seemed to feel free to behave like a bloody tyrant whenever the mood struck her.

"Very well, then. Assume the position, girl."

Mallory leaned forward, her hands coming to rest on her knees.

Ms Gablins moved to stand behind her. She pushed up the skirt of Mallory's school uniform, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the girl's underpants and and lowered them.

"For starting a physical fight with one of your classmates, you are going to receive three strokes of the cane."

"Yes, Miss."

Ms Gablins took the cane and tapped it lightly against Mallory's butt cheeks.

"You will count the strokes and thank me for each of them, Carmichael."

"Yes, Miss."

The teacher raised the cane and took aim. I watched it cut through the air and strike Mallory's buttocks.

Mallory gasped. "One. Thank you, Miss."

I watched Ms Gablins administer another stroke.

"Two. Thank you, Miss." Mallory's voice was none too steady at that point.

"Not feeling so high and mighty now, are we, Carmichael?"

Mallory did not reply to that.

I tried to tell myself that Ms Gablins was badly in need of some kind of therapy and therefore deserving my pity. It did not help much.

"And now for the last one," the teacher announced.

Ms Gablins raised the cane, higher than before, and brought it down swiftly to cut across the girl's buttocks.

That finally produced what she must have intended all along: a bawling Mallory Carmichael.

"Looks like this has been overdue," Ms Gablins drily commented. "I trust you have learned your lesson, Carmichael."

"Yes, Miss," the girl managed.

"Very well." Ms Gablins turned around and left Sandra's office, closing the door behind herself.

"Stupid cow," Mallory muttered.

She slowly straightened, hitched up her panties and smoothed down her skirt.

Somewhat embarrassed, I rose from where I had been hiding behind the desk and walked over to her.

Mallory angrily wiped her eyes. "So, did you enjoy the show, Hart?"

I made a face. "You know perfectly well that I didn't enjoy this, Carmichael. For that matter, neither would Natty have enjoyed it," I added, as an afterthought.

"Perhaps, and perhaps not."

I frowned. "What is it, anyway, with you and Natty?"

A strange expression passed over Mallory's face.

"We used to be friends," she softly told me.

"And then?" I prodded. "What happened?"

Mallory's face closed. "Why don't you ask her?"

"I did."

"What did she say?"

"She says that she does not want to talk about it. But there is something else that I don't understand. After the fight, when you were talking to the prefects: why did you take all the blame upon yourself?"

Mallory shrugged. "Arrogance? Guilt? Pride? Self-contempt? Take your pick, Hart. I truly don't care what you or anybody else here thinks."

But you do care what Natty Fogg thinks.

Of course I did not say that out loud. I was fairly sure that Mallory knew that already, herself.

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