Mother's gone. Father's gone. Everyone's gone. Except me. They left me.

Well, that's not entirely true. Mother and Father are dead, my friends are thousands of miles away, and my only surviving relative is shipping me off to boarding school. But their not gone, I suppose. Just unreachable. I can write to my friends, but I'd wait months between letters. It's almost worse knowing that they're here, but I can't reach them.

I wish someone could explain that to my uncle. Uncle Ryan insists that I attend this boarding school, get "finished", and find a suitable husband. Not until then will I even be allowed to leave Frell.

Yet, how I despise Frell! Even the sound of its name sparks a fire of hatred in me. Frell, Frell, Frell! Oh, should I die and be buried here; I would surely go the Hell. Frell Hell.

"We're her, miss," the coachman said, as though I didn't recognize the sign that read 'Rosawar's School for Girl's'.

As if I hadn't had that name embedded into my brain for weeks, dreading the day when I would set foot in my prison.

The coachman handed me out of the coach, and began to unlatch my trunks from the back of the carriage. I held only my handbag and my "going away present". That was a book, a book of fairy tales. I'd never even looked inside the book, though it was supposedly fairy-made. Perhaps it was just to spite my uncle, but I resolved never to spend the money he'd given me, and never to open the book.

The coachman placed my two trunks on the ground outside the front door. It was wooden, but as I stared at it, I saw shapes emerge, shies of gnomes, fairies, and other magical folk. The coachman apparently noticed nothing, for he continued went up to the door and knocked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Finally, a woman came to the door. She was immaculately dressed, and her perfectly pinned up hair made my self-conscious about my own, dirty blonde and messy hair. She looked at me with an air of distaste. Her nose seemed permanently stuck into the air, and even her voice implied 'high society' when she said:

"I assume you are the niece of Ryan Porret, scheduled to arrive in five minutes. You're early, but that is excusable. My name is Paullina Rosawar, and I am the headmistress of this school. You may call me Headmistress or Miss Rosawar. You should know that I will not excuse tardiness, stammering, or displaying unladylike behavior. If you will follow me, I will show you to your room. Your coachman may leave your bags here, and Marie will get them for you."

Just then, I noticed a young girl, skinny as a rail and obviously nervous, hiding behind the headmistress. Or maybe it just looked like she was hiding because you couldn't see anything around that huge dress. Icredibly, she lifted both my trunks into her arms and held them at the same time, without showing signs of

"Come girl, what is your name," Headmistress said as she ushered me inside.

I as stepped inside, I looked around me in awe.

"My name's Rebecca," I whispered.