The rest of the way to Jenn was boring. Our only scenery was farms.

It was so hot that Hattie only had one command:

"Fan me Ella."

I cut in,"Fan yourself. Don't if you don't want to Ella."

"Fan me too," Olive said at the same time.

"Don't," I answered, fanning myself with my hand.

Honestly. Did Hattie and Olive have no conciences or something? How could they be so mean?

I didn't get it. I -

"OGRES!" The coachman suddenly shouted.

The coach sped up to an almost impossible speed. At least, and impossible speed for a carriage. I was afraid we'd tip over.

Wait... ogres! Mandy had said that that - thing - I'd seen in the cottage when I'd first arrived here had been an ogre! Now there were ogres here too? What a terrible place this world was! How could any of these people stand living here in danger of those hideous, cruel creatures. Didn't living in constant fear have some sort of wear on them?

My heart pounded. I remembered how close to dying I'd been the last time I'd encountered an ogre.

"Why do you run from your friends?" asked the sweetest voice I'd ever heard, "We bear gifts of your hearts' desires. Riches, love, eternal life..." My heart's desire... home! Why were we running when I could get home? Air conditioning, faster methods of transportation, freedom from Hattie, from this world, from the ogres...

"Slow down," Hattie dreamily ordered the driver.

She really didn't need to, the coach had already started to slow.

The sheep were making a lot of noise. A lot. So much that I could only concentrate on that.

Wait! There were ogres after us! Why were we going so slow? Why weren't we running for our lives?

"Yell so you can't hear them!" Ella shouted. The coachman and I started to yell along with her. Then Hattie started shrieking:

"EAT ME LAST!! EAT ME LAST!!"

Olive screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And never took a breath. The scream rang unbroken until it was starting to scare me. How was she doing that? It was freaky. Her face was turning red. Then it started to get annoying. Alright, really annoying.

I was relieved when the coachman came in and slapped her.

At least he apologized. After all, hitting women was illegal.

The "finishing school" wasn't what I was expected. I guess I sort of expected it to be like those old one-roomed schoolhouses from forever-ago. But this place didn't look like it could possibly be a school. It looked like a very, very tiny house. The only difference from it and it's neighbors was that the bushes were trimmed to look like girls wearing dresses.

I found that slightly creepy.

Upon our approach, a strict, uptight-looking woman met us. She looked to be in her early fifties.

"Welcome, young ladies," she told us with a curtsy. I swore in my head. No doubt, I'd be expected to curtsy back. Ella, Hattie, and Olive did. But I'd never done one before. I was sure to make a fool of myself. At least Ella seemed a bit unsteady, I wouldn't be the only one messing up.

So I attempted the manuever and to my astonishment, I think I did it great.

"But who are these other young ladies?" the woman asked, waving her hand over me and Ella.

It was Ella who answered, "I am Ella, madam. My father is Sir Peter of Frell. And this is Sasha of Frell. She is a comarade of mine and my Father is paying for her stay. He wrote a letter." Ella announced. She got an envelope and a small bag from her purse and handed it to the woman.

It was Mandy that had put the money in the bag and changed Ella's dad's letter. He'd never pay for me to come here. He was a cheapscate. Of course, I'd never pay for me to come here either. There was nothing here to come to.

"What a lovely surprise," The lady said after weighing the bag in her hand, "I am Madame Edith, headmistress of your new home. Welcome to our humble establishment."

She curtsied again. We copied her. It was extremely irritating.

She led us into a large sunny room.

"Young ladies," she announced, "Here are four new friends for you." A roomfull of girls got up, curtsied, and sat back down. Every one of them wore a pink dress with a yellow ribbon in their hair. It was very cheesy. And the constant curtsying was starting to get on my nerves.

"Back to work, ladies," Madame Edith said, "Sewing Mistress will help the new pupils."

It was so weird to hear the word "pupils" used in normal conversation.

I sat in an empty chair and looked around. Ella was seated on the other side of the room. The room was full of strangers, most of them exhibiting hostile faces. Or maybe it was my imagination. At any rate, none of them looked overly friendly.

The woman called "Sewing Mistress" approached me with a needle, colored thread, and white material with flowers on it. In Home Ec. I had sewed on patterns like this, but I had used a sewing machine. They couldn't honestly expect me to sew by hand. I didn't know how. Plus, it would take forever.

Sewing Mistress gave me the piece of material and then told me that I was to go to go over the pattern. She turned away.

"Um, wait," I protested. She glared at me impatiently.

"I don't actually know how to sew by hand," I admitted. Even though I knew that it was unreasonable for anyone to expect anyone to sew by hand, even here, I felt a little embarassed. I felt more than a little embarrassed when she raised her eyebrows at me in astonishment I felt totally stupid when she grabbed my matierial and showed me a few stitches stowly and articulately before un-threading the needle, giving it back, and leaving me. Just like that. Like I was supposed to learn by watching it twice.

I threaded my needle with light pink thread. I knew how to do that, at least.

I stared at the pattern Sewing Mistress had given me. It had a certain charm. Actually, it could be pretty. It was of a rose.

I tore out the stitches that Sewing Mistress had sewn. I didn't want my rose that color.

I watched the girl next to me. Her thread was moving in and out, over and under the material. It almost had a rhythm. I could do that.

So I tried it. I plunged my needle into the thread and lost myself in daydreams. This flower could be beautiful. It could have light pink, almost white, where the light hit the most. It could have darker and darker thread, moving through pinks until it was almost red when it disappeard into more folds of it. It could have deep green leaves and it could look so lifelike! So real! I could see it! I could see the colors flood into place. I painted it with my eyes. It was-

"Three stitches in all this time?" I heard Sewing Mistress say from across the room. She was talking to Ella, "Three vast, messy stitches! Like three teeth in a toothless gum. Go to your room and stay there until it is time for bed! No supper for you tonight." Ella glowered at her.

"I'm not hungry," she retorted defiantly.

"Then you may do without breakfast too, for your impertinence," was Sewing Mistresses reply. Ella got up and left the room.

I was speechless. What if Ella starved to death? What if -

I heard a gasp over my shoulder and spun around.

"I thought you said you couldn't sew?" the Sewing Mistress asked me astonishment written all over her face.

"Well, I've never sewed by hand before actually, but..." I was interrupted by Sewing Mistress, "This is exquisite! It is- it looks real! Oh, how divine!" Her voice took on a gloating edge, "Oh my, in all my years, I've never seen a piece as amazing as this! I couldn't even do better!"

The whole room looked up from their work. Sewing Mistress was being annoyingly loud in her unwanted praise. Well, maybe it wasn't totaly unwanted. Part of me loved it, but the other part noticed my fellow "pupil"'s glares.

I looked at the work in my hands. It was just as I'd imagined it! Who would have known what one could do when they weren't paying attention?