The building shook.
The Girl shuddered.
She pulled the covers up to her chin.
The lightning struck again. The windows flashed, lighting up the room. The Girl got out of bed, tiptoeing across the floor to not wake her roommates.
Lighting a candle, she remembered what happened at her last finishing school.
The lightning struck. Thunder rumbled. The Girl jumped out of bed, running to close the curtains.
The Girl was afraid of the dark, but her fear of storms was way worse.
She yanked the white fabric shut, but when she was tiptoeing back to her bed, to not wake the monster underneath, she tripped on the curtain.
Tumbling onto the floor, she knocked over her bedside table.
And the candle atop it.
The Girl remembered the sight of the school, lost in flames, now just a pile of ashes.
She was in the news, too. Twelve Year Old Girl Burns Down Ms. Vennie's Finishing School.
It was bad. The girls that she roomed with wouldn't talk to her. Not that they ever did. They said she was odd, with her ghost stories. The Girl was popular, to say the least. She was Ms. Vennie's favorite, well, before she burned down the school. But being popular didn't mean you have any friends.
The Girl was the only person at Ms. Vennie's that believed in ghosts. She wasn't afraid, like the other girls. The Girl had many fears, but ghosts were not one of them.
The Girl snuck into the kitchen, careful not to drop another candle and burn down another school.
The fire happened three years ago. For those three years, The Girl had been sent to an orphanage. The Early Academy was opening for girls the next day.
The Girl took a slice of bread, nibbling on it on her way back to her room.
"Who's out there?" Someone yelled from the shadows. The Girl ran through the hallways, careful not to get caught by the hall monitors.
When she got back to the room she shared with three others,The Girl eyed the dress on the foot of her bed. It was her favorite, light blue with ruffles on the sleeves. She saw the hoop skirt that accompanied the dress in the corner.
The grandfather clock by The Girl's roommate, Annaliese's bed showed 6:30 AM. Only thirty more minutes until the girls have to get ready.
The Girl took off her nightgown, and stepped into her skirt.
6:35 AM.
She put on her dress.
6:40 AM.
She ran a brush through her hair.
6:50 AM.
The Girl just finished putting her long blonde hair in two neat french braids when the room monitor came in. She eyed The Girl, smiling.
"You can go to the main room to meet Mr. Hall, Miss. Dubois."
The Girl nodded, walking through the hallway.
It's abnormally quiet, The Girl thought. Maybe someone's hurt.
The Girl shook her head. She shouldn't be thinking that.
No, they're all just sleeping.
"Dominique!" Ms. Vennie gasped as The Girl walked into the room. "You look wonderful!"
"Thank you, Miss?" The Girl, known as Dominique, whispered.
"Oh, yes. I am the daughter of Mr. Hall, who sadly passed last night. Look up, Dominique. Remember your training."
She was talking about the books. For her first two months at Ms. Vennie's, she had to walk with books balanced on her head. But it had been six years since she started.
"So, Dominique, I heard it's your birthday tomorrow!" Ms. Vennie exclaimed.
She didn't hear anything. She probably asked for Dominique's files, and when the owners of Northside Orphanage declined, she threatened them.
No one really knew the power that Ms. Vennie held.
"Up!" The shrill voice of Catherine Vennie rang out throughout the ballroom.
Over 100 girls were walking in a circle with their chins raised. Books sat atop their heads.
Dominique was lucky to not be one of them. She had her time, and it was a sad time.
"Miss. Dubois, will you please kindly demonstrate the correct way to ballroom dance?"
Dominique nodded, standing up.
"Ms. Vennie, who will I practice with?"
The girls gasped at her thick French accent and dropped their books. Dominique blushed, whispering to Ms. Vennie.
"N'ont-ils jamais vu une fille française?" Have they never seen a French girl?
"Non." No.
That was surprising to Dominique, because normally everyone on Lake Geneva spoke French.
"And for your partner…" Ms. Vennie mumbled. She swiftly walked out of the room, her head held high.
Dominique kneeled down in front of one of the smaller girls.
"Hello. What's your name?" She asked.
"Isabelle." The girl said.
"Do you mind if I call you Izzy?" Dominique asked.
"They call me Bella."
"Bella it is."
"Can I call you Dommie?" Bella asked.
"Ok." Dominique smiled.
"How old are you?"
"I turn sixteen today. How old are you?"
The young girl held up seven fingers.
"Seven? Wow!" Bella smiled as Ms. Vennie walked back in.
"Silence!" She exclaimed.
"Dominique, I have found you a partner. This is…" She trailed off, gesturing to the boy that had followed her into the ballroom.
"Noah. Noah Cousins."
"This is Noah. He will be your partner for the rest of your time here."
Dominique's eyes widened. The rest of your time here. Four years. For four years, Dominique would have to be paired up with that boy.
Dominique looked down at Bella, who was grinning at Noah.
He bent down, giving the young girl a high five.
"You're doing great, Bells." He whispered.
Ms. Vennie interrupted the moment. "Excuse me, Mr. Cousins, the boys at this school should not be interfering with our girls' study."
"But Ms! She's my sister!"
"Ms., Can we please get the dance over with?" Dominique exclaimed at the same time of Noah's outburst.
"Yes, Miss. Dubois, Mr. Cousins, please follow me."
The two teenagers followed Ms. Vennie to the middle of the ballroom, where Dominique picked up a book and placed it on her head. She then took Noah's hand.
They started the waltz, Dominique following Noah's lead.
The book didn't fall off her head.
