Title: Growing Upside Down (Ch. 3 of 5)
Note: Takes place between Soul Music and Hogfather, contains light spoiler-ish material for the former.
Disclaimer: No affiliation with Terry Pratchett or Harper Collins. No money is being made from this.

Susan had been prepared for many things -- that the Lady Saras and Cassandra Foxes of the world would be far better turned out than she, that the ranks of Assassins in their finest black would be an admittedly arresting sight, that there would be large ladies of a certain age wearing jewels that could purchase the entirety of Sto Helit -- but she was not prepared for the humiliation of being announced. All of the girls were, of course, alphabetically by surname; when their name was called out by the majordomo, they'd curtsey, smile glitteringly at the crowd, and descend the stairs to join the merriment below.

At least that was the plan, and most of the girls were able to follow through with flying colours.

"Her Grace the Duchess of Sto Helit, Lady Susan Sto Helit!"

Susan stepped forward, aware that her face was positively scarlet (the birthmark was no doubt glowing like a lantern), whether from rage or embarrassment she wasn't entirely sure. People were looking at her. Staring. She could practically read the thoughts on their faces: who is this? what on the Disc is going on with her ridiculous hair? why such a plain dress? is Sto Helit important right now? oh, it's that girl, isn't it, with the parents who...? She bit the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood; she curtseyed (perfectly, small consolation though it was) and descended, glaring at the steps beneath her feet.

As per the universal law of teenagers at dances, the Quirm College girls all gathered along one wall in a flock, whispering and looking anxiously at the senior boys from the Assassins' Guild who had likewise gathered on the opposite wall. It was at least an hour (during which Lady Sara Grateful was horrified to discover a streak of bright pink punch on her skirt) before one of the boys, like an ambassador, finally ventured across the floor. Then, slowly, girls and boys paired off, blushing and awkward, tripping a little as they danced, and then, as the evening wore on, finding quiet corners in which to sit in anxious silence.

Susan watched. It was easier to simply be invisible; not that anyone would have paid much attention to her anyway. And being an observer was far more educational; she found herself watching the expressions with interest: the way a tilt of the shoulder or a sidelong glance betrayed intrigue or distaste. She didn't fully understand some of the things she saw; why, for instance, one of the ladies laughed at a particular joke of Lord Downey's, or the sly look that passed between two women when a young man handed them glasses of wine. She studied the strained expression on Miss Butts's face, and the way her eyes darted to and fro in a vain attempt to keep watch over all of her girls. Of course they would not stay late; things happened when the hour grew late, and though the girls were all consumed with curiosity over what those things might be, tonight was not the night to find out.

Her gaze flicked past the musicians, past the refreshments, past an alcove heavy with shadows --

-- wait. She looked again, and saw in the shadows a short, slim boy with a cherubic face. He was probably close to Susan's age, and since he was wearing full black, perhaps even a little older. He too was watching the crowd with interest; there was the faintest suggestion of a sneer on his face.

There was something wrong with his eyes. Susan couldn't really tell exactly what it was from where she was standing -- one seemed to be glass; who knew how that happened, although they did say things about the nature of the Guild final exam. He turned his head slightly and seemed to be looking directly at her. She was so startled that she forgot to be invisible.

Well, now he could see her for sure, and his gaze locked with hers. Susan suddenly found it very hard to breathe. He was smiling at her, the first time all evening that anyone had smiled at her, and her stomach seemed to flip right over. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the crowd and the music; there was a strange heat in her belly; and she knew with absolute certainty that whoever this young man was, she hated him. Was completely revolted by him, for no reason she could articulate; was perhaps just a little afraid of him even, if Susan was ever afraid of anything; and something else that she didn't have a name for, but which only fed the repulsion.

And if the strange hard edge to his smile and the way his fingers curled in the folds of his cloak was anything to go by, he probably felt the same way about her.

She refused to look away, though every nerve screamed at her to do so; she felt, obscurely, that to look away would be somehow to lose. He kept smiling at her, maddeningly and fiercely, and Susan thought giddily that they might well stay that way all evening.

And then Cassandra Fox and one of the Selachii boys pushed past Susan, crossing directly in front of her, and when they were gone, the strange young Assassin was gone too.

Susan stumbled back a couple of steps, backing into a chair and sitting down in it with a thump. What the hell just happened? It was like the first time she'd seen Imp, only ... wrong. That was the only word she could think of for it: wrong. Seeing Imp hadn't felt like being dropped into a pot of boiling oil from a great height. And when Imp looked at her, it didn't feel like someone was trying to bore into her skull with a hand drill.

There were a man and a woman in the alcove now; they were older, in their twenties perhaps. They stood so close together that they seemed to be one shadow; Susan's throat tightened, and she hurriedly looked away. I'm not ready for this, she thought faintly, although what exactly this was, she wasn't sure.

Much to her relief, Miss Butts and the other teachers took that moment to start gathering up the girls; the hour was reaching that dangerous point of lateness, and unlike her classmates, Susan went willingly. She glanced back towards the Guild as the carriage pulled away, and she thought she glimpsed a small flash in the shadows just on the other side of the gates, lantern-light reflecting off a glass eye. She sank down in her seat and rubbed her forehead; she could feel a massive headache coming on.