Hey guys! I think this might be the fastest I've ever updated! I love Katia so much guys, honestly haha.
I loved the little bit of feedback, by the way! I'm so glad you guys love her, too...keep telling me what you think! I LOVE getting feedback from y'all. It means the world to me, really.
San Marie became the only place I could ever imagine to be very very quickly. I even found two little friends: Florence Cassell and JP Hooper. Like Camille, Florence was half French, but all island at heart, and JP was all sweetness. My siblings and Cam and Fidel let us younger ones traipse along in their footsteps, splashing in the waves and stringing shells on a cord to make necklaces for our mothers.
As soon as we were old enough, we all enrolled in Notre Dame school in Honoré, run by a man I assumed to be the devil himself: Headmaster Dunham. He was horrid, with bad breath and the original evil eye. JP, Flo, and I were scared to death of him, and I often left school clutching Alexei's hand so tight he lost feeling. My first day was rather traumatic, what with me being 5 and all, and the Headmaster being a hellbeast.
Our teacher was rather nice, I supposed, for how Lex and Fidel described their teachers. Mdme. Belvaux was small and blonde and wrinkly, with loads of clinking charms and no less than a half dozen earrings in each ear. Her hair was piled up on top of her head and tied with a violently pink ribbon and a frankly alarming amount of hairspray.
Mama dropped me off with a lingering kiss on the cheek, and a plea to be good. I smiled, holding tightly onto my brand new Princess Leia lunchbox. Florence waved from her seat and I tottered over, fast as a five year old could while wearing an enormous backpack. We sat and giggled for a little while, and Mdme. Belvaux hung up my bag and lunchbox.
Then, Headmaster Dunham decided he was going to start off his day on a lovely note by scaring the living daylights out of some poor little children in their first year of primary school. He came in, brooding and sullen, and utterly terrifying. Florence grabbed my hand. "Madame Belvaux, children, good morning."
"Good morning, Headmaster," Mdme Belvaux seemed just as frightened as the rest of us, shrinking into herself and all her charms ceasing to clink.
"I assume that none of you are familiar with our rules, so I will teach you now. You will not speak until spoken to. You will not be disrespectful -"
JP raised his little hand, "Sir, what does that mean?"
"Hooper!" He bellowed. "What did I just say?" His face went red and poor little JP reeled back. I held out an arm, shielding him behind me. The headmaster straightened his collar and returned to his spiel.
"You will not try to be superior to your peers. You will not be arrogant. You will not be-"
And on and on and on and on he went, this whole long list of things you couldn't do, couldn't say, couldn't be. Florence and I exchanged a look - was he serious? We sighed and set our chins in our palms. Bad choice.
"Miss Versoni! Miss Cassell! Posture! You are young ladies, now act like it." He picked up a yardstick and snapped it in half over his knee. I scrambled back, but Headmaster Dunham was faster.
He grabbed me and held both of my arms in one meaty hand while calling for Mdme. Belvaux. She held my hands as Headmaster Dunham duct-taped the half yardstick to my back. I screeched, flailing and fighting like an animal. "Quiet! This is for your own good!" He took the other half and taped it horizontally to my shoulders. Mdme Belvaux let go and I dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, shaking and choking back bitter tears. Florence stared on in horror as Headmaster Dunham ordered me sat up on a mat and given water, then turned on her. "Cassell, look to Miss Versoni for an example of what will happen to you if you let her lead you astray."
Madame Belvaux resigned by the next morning.
The rest of my years at Notre Dame school were much the same, though less intense by far, but the ramrod straight posture was beaten into me until I graduated (thankfully early), and I don't think I'll ever be rid of it.
Not that a ruthless ballet schedule helped. My teacher loved the posture Headmaster Dunham had drilled into me, especially during endless barre exercies. "Plie. Relevé. Plie. Relevé. En pointe, ladies! Plie. Relevé. Good posture, Katia! Plie. And, stretch." We scooped our feet up in the palms of our heads and lifted them up above our heads, counting to fifteen, then switched.
We sat and laid on our backs, arms crossed tight over our chests and spread our legs into side splits. I grinned as I imagined Alexei groaning in pain, like he did when I stretched at home. "Kat!" He'd whine, "I'm in pain just watching you! 'S not natural!"
"You're not natural," I'd shoot back, and keep stretching.
We stood up in unison, like a menacing herd of wild ballerinas, and on our teacher, Madame Duval's, mark, pirouetted fast, then slow, then en pointe, then slow, then fast.
It was a rigorous, ruthless schedule after that: almost two hours of conditioning and finally, finally, the bliss of dancing. Ballet made me feel beautiful and powerful and free. Madame Duval would rise from her perch at the edge of the floor and occasionally reposition my arms or raise my chin, but her eyes were always shining when she looked at her students.
Ballet nights were always rough when I got home, what with homework and showers and dinner and all that. Having to switch languages every few minutes certainly didn't help either, and certainly not when I had to yell over the sound of Nadia butchering a violin. "Nadia, Klyanus' bogom, yesli ty ne ostanovish' etot vizg pryamo seychas-" I yelled into the living room.
Mama gasped. "Katia! Scusate la tua sorella!"
Nadia appeared in the doorway, holding her violin and scowling. "Vot pochemu ty nikogda ne vyydesh' zamuzh."
"Why, you," I snarled, lunging over the back of the couch, fully intending to deck my sister. A strong pair of arms caught me around the waist and pulled me back. My legs kicked angrily at the air.
"Both of you, shut up!" It was Alexei, ever the peacekeeper.
You know, despite wanting to deck Nadia on a daily basis, and nearly punching Alexei when he broke up our fights, I really do love my siblings.
Hey guys! Guide to the Versoni rambling is down below.
Chapter four of Lightning and Fire should be coming soooooooon...I hope.
Love y'all! REVIEW!
~Blue
Guide:
Klyanus' bogom, yesli ty ne ostanovish' etot vizg pryamo seychas : I swear to god, if you don't stop that screeching-
Scusate la tua sorella! : Apologize to your sister
Vot pochemu ty nikogda ne vyydesh' zamuzh. : This is why you'll never get married.