That was a lovely break....NOW OVER. SORRY.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Mary Poppins. Aha.
Part Five:
Somehow Mary was woken up without the help of anyone, servant or Janet-wise. At first she was confused as to where she was, but then the two days she had had suddenly flooded back in her mind and all the nerves that accompanied it soon followed. She got up quickly. Today was for lessons, now and there would probably be no mollycoddling for Mary if she didn't start learning how to act and where to go. Dressing carefully, it did not escape her attention that her drawers were now full with uniforms and her personal affects were all in the lower drawer when she looked for them.
She didn't bother questioning it; somehow she felt that not doing so was the very best when it came to her new school. Instead of waiting for Janet, Mary took the opportunity to leave herself and see if she could retrace her steps to the dining room of the previous evening. Janet would not be dining with her, which was her reasoning behind not waiting for her. It was needless for Mary to bother her; she couldn't depend on her for long.
The halls were empty and all was silent. The windows were still dark outside in the early hours and a fine, thick fog made it nearly impossible to see past the grand building's gates. Lights flickered uneasily as Mary passed them, faintly assured of her memory to remember the way. The uniform itched. In fact, it itched a lot. Going against all of her mother's imprinted lessons, Mary scratched her sides and around her stomach where the unfamiliar cloth rubbed the most. A mirthless giggle from behind her made her stop and wheel around.
"Awful to see one scratch in public," the person said, "one would think they have lice!"
It was the blonde girl. Standing there in the middle of the hall with a gaggle of other girls around her, she was by far the prettiest as well as the cruelest looking amongst them. The leader of a pack of joyless hounds, the other girls melted with each other well with not one standing out as much as the blonde girl in the middle. Her eyes were hard stones as they leered at her newest victim. She had not even bothered trying to be quieter. Her cronies did not smother their mean laughter.
Mary's own eyes narrowed and her chin went up in prideful defiance. For a moment, she thought she would speak but the blonde girl seemed finished for now. With a flip of her hair the group oozed away without another look back, though some pointed at Mary's hair and giggled amongst themselves and Mary finally noticed why— all their hair was down and flowing about their shoulders in thick curls. Not one of them had pulled their hair back and up.
"Why those—!" Mary bit back an angry rant bubbling up inside her.
Instead, she waited until she was sure the snobby group would not hear her before following her. She didn't really remember where to go.
The group evidently knew where to go, and Mary soon followed them at a safe distance behind, not yet willing to reveal her misunderstandings of the large place. She tried hard not to stomp, but the anger inside her kept boiling and her creased brow and clenched fists were the only signs of her hidden rage. It wasn't fair! There was no earthly reason that blonde girl would be so quick to make an enemy out of Mary, she knew nothing of her! Surely there had been no provocation. At a whim she went over her first day when all the troubles had happened but to no avail. As far as she knew, the blonde girl's hatred had come like lightening—unpredictable.
In some hopes Mary liked to believe that it was only the particular group of girls that were the blonde one's cronies, and that there would be other girls who thought nothing of her. She had to believe that, or so help her but that blonde girl would have a taste of Mary's sharp tongue if provoked too long! She would not stand to be bullied. She was not one of the frightened, timid creatures that flinched every time you talked to them…she was like her Father: bold and proud and distant. It was perhaps the only thing she shared with the man, she looked far too much like her elegant mother when it came to her looks.
With the unknowningly given aid from the group of girls Mary found her way to the dining room. She made sure to wait a minute or so before entering—least she looked like she needed help from anyone in how to get there. Inside, it was much as the other night with the one long table with the one long piece of lace covering it. But instead of the heavy laden dishes of dinner set on the table, there were only little bowls and small baskets of hot rolls in the center of every six girls.
She also noticed, with her heart sinking a little, that every spot was taken except for the old, creaky chair next to the blonde girl. At least the other girls on each side of her weren't all having their hair up.
"Sit down, Miss Poppins," Matron said crisply from the head of the table, "And then we may eat."
Mary remembered her 'yes ma'am' today, and warily she sat down gingerly in the old chair, being extra careful as to not invoke any more awful creaks like the one two days before. Though it did emit a few little squeaks of protest, it was not as bad as before. Mary relaxed.
"Thank you," said Matron, "Now, girls, bow your heads and we shall say prayers."
Everyone did so, and everyone had their eyes closed and their hands folded…except for Mary, whose eyes were fixedly open and watching the blonde girl out of the corner of her eye the entire time. Once prayers were said, Matron rung a little bell that was sitting beside her on the table and all at once, maids came with black pots filled with porridge or trays that held the pitchers of cream and sugar that could be poured on top.
Buzzing of conversation started as soon as the maids started ladling the porridge into the bowls, but Mary had no one to turn to chat with. It was rather lonely, almost as lonely as being home and having her parents talk in front of her while she ate and watched them feeling invisible. She was, however, grateful that the blonde girl had better things to do than to torment Mary. That, or because Matron kept an uncommonly sharp eye on Mary, no doubt wondering if she would cause any more mischief. Mary's returning stare was cold and stony.
Janet was no where to be found after breakfast and while the other girls swarmed out of the dining room Mary stood off to the side, feeling stupid. No one had given her a schedule, and no one bothered to tell her if she even had the same classes as everyone else. Not much liking the idea of being late but not wanting to be in the wrong room with everyone there to laugh at her, Mary scowled and started off down the hall after a few girls with their hair pinned up.
Although there had been a majority of girls that seemed to follow the pack that the blonde led and had their hair down, there still were a handful that did not seem to care whether their hair matched the others' or not. It comforted Mary and also gave her a slight chance of blending in as she followed them.
No one stopped her or asked her where she was going as she followed random girls, and Janet still did not appear to help her. Mary knew she should probably ask for help from Matron but she could not bear to swallow her pride to ask. The way Matron thought she was a disruption and a mischief maker still stung her too much to stoop down and ask for anything. In the end, she just followed the groups of girls that had their hair back. If she was wrong, who cared? She was new still anyways, and it wasn't as if she had any other friends to look silly in front of.
The gaggle of girls started to stream into a classroom that had books on the front design. Mary dutifully followed. Inside, it was the same as any other classroom with desks and chairs and rows of books in shelves lining the walls. A blackboard and a lemony looking old woman stood near the front. Again Mary didn't bother to ask for help but slid towards the back of the room and made herself comfortable in the desk nearest to the only window. No one talked in this class, but took their seats quickly and sat forward with their hands together. Mary quickly copied them and not too late after a chiming filled the room, the bell to start class.
The woman at the front clapped her hands together loudly and looked about the room with small eyes.
"Well, my girls," she crooned unexpectedly. "It seems we have another day to learn what we need to be successful in this world. But before we do that, my girls, I would like to ask if anyone could not make it. Is everyone here?"
She looked about casually. No one answered, again. The woman nodded and took up a bit of chalk and turned to the board behind her and began to write in long, elegant script. From the back Mary could tell from the way everyone else moved that this was not ordinary. Girls started to look back and forth between each other and then roaming eyes spotted Mary. A small buzz of talk started up once Mary was found by the other pairs of eyes. Mary ignored them with difficulty, staring hard at the board.
The teacher stepped away from the board to reveal what she wrote. Mary grimaced.
"Good morning, Miss Mary Poppins," the board declared, "Do you know what class you are in?"
The teacher faced the girls and found Mary with her small eyes as well though her face did not look displeased.
"Well, Miss Poppins?" she asked in her odd, crooning voice.
"I don't know, ma'am," Mary said quietly.
Giggles surrounded her, even seemed to come from behind her. Could she ever go anywhere without those obscene giggles?
"You don't know, Miss Poppins?" the teacher pressed, looking slightly taken aback. She looked about the room again. "My, my, that won't do at all. Would anyone like to help her?"
At first no one moved or spoke. Then one girl near the back, but from the other corner slowly raised a fist.
"Miss Black?" the teacher asked.
The girl stood up. She was tall, slender, and had blue-black hair. Her dark eyes were large and curious but her mouth was entirely stubborn and closed to the world.
"English for the Accomplished, Mistress." She almost chanted.
Promptly she sat back down. The school mistress nodded.
"Very good, Miss Black, thank you." She said. "Yes, this is English class, Miss Poppins. I assume you are aware that you are now enrolled in my class and shall be taking it throughout your years here."
Mary hid her confusion by nodding stiffly.
"Yes, Mistress," she said, in case the teacher was touchy about such things like Matron.
"Good, good… now, my girls, if you'll take out your books we'll be continuing Dr. Baldwin's theory on…"
The teacher went on about the theory while the girls opened their desks to take out the book mentioned. Mary followed suit and discovered that the desk was stuffed with everything she would be needing, papers, writing utensils, and the book. She was quick to pull it out and to pay swift attention to the teacher. Obviously you could pick your own classes...
"Do you want help with your next class?" someone asked her after the chimes sounded again.
Mary looked up. It was the Miss Black girl. Warily she looked her over but she could detect no hostile feelings from her. She also had her hair up.
"How do I know what my next even is?" Mary asked slowly.
The girl gave a small smile and hugged her book tight to her that she was holding.
"You just walk into the one you want," she said, "It's really hard in your first year 'cause you don't know what they have here, besides the main classes. They just sign you up where ever you go and that's your schedule."
Mary stared. She had thought about that but she didn't actually believe that was going to be the method. For this class she had assumed she just got lucky.
"That's odd," she said without thinking.
The girl gave her little smile again but remained silent. Mary got up and smoothed out her skirt while she pondered.
"Where should I go?" she asked then.
The girl shrugged.
"It doesn't matter really because we'll all have the same core classes," she said, "but it's the teacher you want to worry about. If you like, you can stick with me and be in my class. I have good teachers. Or you can just pick out your own, if you're adventurous."
Mary bit her lip, unable to see if that would be smart. She had already been tricked once; she would rather not be stuck with someone who was going to be sneaky and unkind to her again. But the girl's dark eyes were peaceful, and the fact that she was hugging a book titled Rasselas somehow put Mary at her ease that this was not a girl who cared for fashions or what the blonde girl thought.
"If you do not mind my company," Mary ventured cautiously.
The girl shook her head.
"I don't," she said cheerfully. "Come, next I have Sciences, but Mistress Shirley is so clever and kind."
The Sciences class was much like the English one, save for the teacher who was not the 'kind' that Pappy was, but rather the 'kind' that meant fair and good to her students. Mary appreciated that, even though she was no good at Science, and even learned just a little. The girl with the blue-black hair made sure that Mary sat next to her and told her what she should and should not do or say in the classes.
"My name is Mary, too," she said during a History class where a befuddled, thinning little Mr. Jones tried to tell a girl that the capital of Ethiopia was not, indeed, Tyro. "But I just have people call me by my middle name. If you don't mind me speaking so frankly, but the name 'Mary' doesn't suit me, I think. I like my middle name, so you can just call me Rosamond."
Mary hid a smile behind her History text book. Rosamond smiled back encouragingly.
"It means 'Rose of the World'," she admitted almost embarrassedly. "So very vain, I know, but I can't help it. It's my one vanity."
"Everyone is entitled to one, I suppose," Mary allowed, not an inch bothered that her new companion was vain about her name. It was suitable to her, than just 'Mary'.
"How do you like the school?" Rosamond asked her.
At first, the question of what exactly the special classes were stood on the tip of Mary's tongue, but a moment later she was relaying everything that had happened to her between the blonde girl and her to Rosamond. She was a very good listener and didn't interrupt once, but made sympathetic faces at the right times. Mary didn't mention Bert, again. There seemed no point in letting her know. Rosamond wrinkled her nose once Mary had finished.
"Oh, you've made an enemy out of Belladonna James," she said. "No, she's very well known for being a frightful bully, everyone either follows her or gets tormented. She picks out at least one person she doesn't like every term."
"Did she ever bother you?" Mary asked, surprised at the sudden knowledge of who exactly the blonde girl was and knowing her role in the school.
Rosamond shook her head, smiling wryly.
"Belladonna knows better than to bother a third year," she said simply.
"Third year!" Mary gasped. "But you're so…"
"Young looking, I know. I always look younger than I actually am." Rosamond's dark eyes glimmered with amusement. "I don't really care about what Belladonna does, and she knows for a fact that I'm better than her in the special courses."
Again the special courses. Perhaps Rosamond would tell her what they were.
"Well, what are those classes about?" Mary asked, pretending to be casual but failing. "What do you do in them?"
Instead of a prompt answer she generally received from Rosamond the girl smiled mysteriously, much like Janet did.
"You shall get to see after this," she said cryptically. "We get a special class next. Everyone goes, too."
"Miss Black, can you please tell Miss Nathaniel that Tyro is not even in Ethiopia?" Mr. Jones asked unexpectedly from the front, nearly in tears.
That ended any more questions Mary had about the special classes. She would have to wait like everyone else for the next hour that would finally answer all the questions she had about what her new school was truly about.
Okay! No more breaks for me!
