She was supposed to be searching for books that would help her with spellcasting, but Stephanie Trafalgar couldn't stop looking at her boots. She wasn't wearing the standard issue icky black ones that went with her uniform; hers were a light green color, with pink flowers and dark green leaves embossed on the sides. They had been made especially for her from her own design. She had a feeling she'd get in trouble for wearing them, but so far no authority figure had noticed. Then again, the library was the first stop she had made since her arrival at Brunnhold a few hours earlier.

Tomorrow she started classes. They were certain to be noticed then. With any luck, she would be allowed to wear them, as well as the pink shawl around her shoulders, and the pink fabric flower bands around her pigtails. It had taken her forever to find the right shade of pink to compliment the ghastly green of her uniform, but this soft rose color was perfect. Hopefully, the idea would catch on and other girls would be individualizing their drab uniforms with splashes of pink. If everyone started doing it, then the teachers would not be able to stop it. And Stephanie Trafalgar would be responsible for starting a trend!

Most likely, though, she'd just get in trouble, have to discard her pink accessories, and that would be the end of it.

The young girl sighed as she perused the tomes on the bookshelf. She was never going to find what she was looking for. She did not know if such a book even existed. Perhaps she should ask the Scryer. She probably should have done that to begin with but ... well ... scrying scared her. She wouldn't even carry around a seer stone, even though she did have a beautiful necklace set with one. Scrying was too intrusive for her. The thought of someone watching her while she was unaware of it was frightening. What if she were naked at the time? Or worse yet ... taking a crap? It was just too embarrassing to contemplate. Unconsciously, she shivered.

Draped across her shoulders over the rose-colored shawl, Whimsy raised her head and chirped. Stephanie reached up and stroked the osta kitten behind the ears reassuringly. Then, squaring her shoulders and trying to be brave, she walked toward the front desk and the ... gulp! ... Library Scryer.

As she walked, she looked around her. The students were out of class now, and several of them were meandering among the shelves or sitting quietly with their nose in a book. Stephanie had not yet seen any of her old friends; in fact, she still didn't know who her new roommates were, as she had arrived while they were in class. She glanced around for familiar faces, every now and then gazing down at her pretty new boots. In fact, she was looking at everything but where she was going.

She didn't see the bookshelf directly in front of her. It was certainly strong enough to take the impact of her small body without budging, but a few of the books were dislodged by her hands frantically grasping for purchase as she tried to stop herself from falling. One particularly heavy grimoire near the top had been hanging halfway off the shelf, discarded hastily by the last student who had looked through it. When it fell, it hit Stephanie with full force on the side of her head.

Startled, Whimsy leapt from her mistress's shoulders. She hissed, her fur standing straight up, and bolted from the library, a whirling burgundy blur.

With a sharp cry, the girl sprawled backwards, her vision dimming. Visions of brightly colored shoes swirled about her as nearly unbearable pain shot through her head. She could feel a bit of liquid trickling down her neck. She touched it. Blood. Clocking shit! she thought, and then passed out, her head hitting the floor with a gentle thud.

Unfortunately for Stephanie, the osta was the first thing that anyone saw.

"CAT IN THE LIBRARY," screeched one of the girls clustered near the door, pointing and grinning with glee that someone was about to get in trouble. "Catch it, quick, Rosie!"

The Library scryer looked up from her book, an expression of utter bored pain on her face. "Catch it yourself," she said, clearly unable to care less, but not for lack of trying.

"Ohhhhh, someone's going to get it for bringing an animal in here," said one of the other girls, giggling. Whimsy rounded the corner and left the building; the gaggle of girls made a disappointed noise and sighed. "Nothing interesting ever happens around here," commented one of them.

"Who brought it in here?" said a cold voice from behind them. The third form girls turned around slowly, gulping as they realized an older girl was watching them with an annoyed expression on her face. It was Susan. They recognized her because she was always in the Library; her dedication to her rather boring Living studies was somewhat legendary in Corridor Five, the Biology section. She brushed her brown hair behind her ears in a businesslike fashion.

"Wasn't any of us," said the first girl hotly. "Must have been someone else. We just saw it run past."

"Who would bring a cat into a library?" said Susan to herself, looking disgusted. The other students exchanged glances, knowing what she was thinking...cat claws shredding her precious books. Someone was about to lose some blood.

Unbeknownst to them, Stephanie had already lost a little blood, though the wound was very small and clotted quickly. No one had come by her corridor yet, and as it was such a large library, it was unlikely that anyone would stop by for some time.

She was surrounded by shoes. They were in all different colors and styles, and they were all hers. They sat on shelves, in boxes, and even hung from the ceiling. She smiled in delight as she looked over them all. However could she choose just one pair?

There was a mirror on the back wall. If she knew what she was wearing, then her choice would be easier. She walked toward it, humming happily to herself. Whimsy trotted beside her, all four paws encased in miniature white boots. The girl knew she would be wearing a lovely dress, a beautiful frothy creation that would be the envy of ...

The notes she had been humming died in her throat as she looked into the mirror and observed her attire ... or rather the lack thereof. She was as naked as the day she'd been born! Appalled, she turned away from that horrible image, only to find herself surrounded by people, all laughing and pointing at her large bosom. She tried to cover herself as best she could, but it was no use.

She broke through the circle of people and started to run. She felt objects pounding her in the back as she tried to put as much distance as she could between her naked self and the laughing crowd. Shoes! The people were pelting her with shoes! A heel hit her on the side of her head. Pain exploded in her brain ...

...

Stephanie slowly opened her eyes. She was lying flat on her back, staring at a ceiling. Which ceiling, she did not know. Her head really did hurt, although there were no people tossing shoes at her. She was very happy about that, since throwing shoes would probably ruin them.

What was she thinking? Where was she? What was she doing lying on the floor sleeping anyway?

She sat up carefully, a bit dizzy. She was in Brunnhold's library, and there were books lying on the floor around her. All of the books had twins ... no, that was because her eyes were crossed. She closed and then opened them again, concentrating on keeping them from crossing. There. That was better. Her nose hurt. Why did her nose hurt?

Because you ran into a bookcase, idiot, she berated herself. She remembered now. She was admiring her new boots, and not looking where she was going. Not paying attention to her surroundings was nothing new to Stephanie. Niether was running into things. She had never done it on such a grand scale before, though. Just how stupid can you be? she asked herself. Apparently pretty clocking stupid.

She recalled something smacking her on the head. She had been bleeding. Reaching up, she gingerly touched the spot that hurt the most. She winced. There was a bit of dried blood, but her fingers were clean when she brought them in front of her face ... all ten of the fingers on one hand. Oops ... her eyes were crossed again. She deliberately focused on her hand. Good. She only had five fingers. Of course you only have five fingers. How stupid can you be? On second thought, don't answer that.

She wasn't thinking straight. She never talked to herself.

Her attention was captured by a large grimoire lying next to her. That was probably what hit her on the head. She picked it up. What kind of book had she been looking for anyway? Ahh yes, something that would help her with spellcasting. She had lost six months study while she had been recovering from her eating disorder. She had to catch up with her class in order to get opera lessons when she turned fifteen.

Head cocked to the side, Stephanie picked up the book. Fanciful child that she was, she wondered if the very book she had been looking for was the one that had quite literally fallen into her hands. Ok, maybe not technically in her hands, but pretty darn close.

Her eyes were still a bit out of focus, but they were getting better by the minute. She squinted at the title, trying to make out the words.

"Hey, you!"

Susan was standing in the corridor, her arms crossed. The expression on her face was not one of concern.

"Why were there books thrown all over the floor?" she demanded. "How dare you treat Brunnhold's precious literary resources like worthless junk! What were you doing, trying to juggle them?"

Her eyes traced from the dried blood on Stephanie's forehead to the colors she was wearing, and she made a face.

"Wouldn't be surprised, as you're apparently from the circus," she sneered.

The group of three girls who had been loitering near the door approached behind her. They looked to be about Stephanie's age, and though a couple of them looked amused to see Susan tearing into the new girl, one of them looked uncomfortable at the tone of Susan's voice. She made a motion as if to help Stephanie get up, but stayed, clearly not wanting to move until Susan had left.

Stephanie blinked at the older girl's cutting remarks. Despite her best intentions, her face turned several shades of red. Susan's words hurt, but they also made her angry. How dare she criticize Stephanie's accessories! Obviously she wouldn't know fashion if it walked up and slapped her in the face. Which was exactly what the younger girl felt like doing right now. And she should ... but she just wasn't brave enough.

She rose a bit shakily, holding the grimoire across her ample chest. Her eyes raked Susan up and down derisively, as if the other girl was nothing more than an annoying insect to be squashed beneath her pretty boot. What she felt was something else entirely. She was frightened to face the older student, but determined not to let it show. If you showed cowardice in front of someone like Susan, they would never leave you alone. She would have to pretend to be unafraid, which wasn't really much of a problem for a girl who had been acting since the age of two.

Stephanie decided to ignore the circus remark. Oh, she probably could have matched Susan barb for barb, but she didn't want to stoop to the older girl's level. Ok, that wasn't exactly true. She longed to stoop to that level. Several scathing insults tumbled through her mind. She simply restrained herself from letting them past her lips.

Instead she rolled her eyes. “I don't have to answer to you,” she said, her voice dripping venom. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she placed one hand on the edge of the bookcase for support, hoping the move looked relaxed and nonchalant. “Who died and made you queen?"

The other girls tittered, and one of them said "oooooh" in a low voice.

"How could they make me queen when they're dead?" asked Susan, making a scornful face.

"In other kingdoms, Susan, they use a lineage system of royalty," offered the girl with the top-knot who had been considering helping Stephanie. Her voice was meek.

"We're not in other kingdoms," snapped Susan, who clearly didn't see the point in figures of speech. "We're civilized here. We elect our leaders, and we don't throw books all over the floor like savages. I'm reporting you and your silly little cat to the Librarian, you brainless oaf," she added to Stephanie.

"Stop picking on her," said top-knot girl hotly. She put her hands on her hips. "She's right. You're not even a proctor." The other girls stared at her as though she had a death-wish, and Susan bore down on her, causing her to quail.

"You little witch," she hissed. "Don't tell me what to do."

The older girl turned and stalked off, leaving the others to hover nervously around Stephanie. The top-knot girl bent to begin picking up the books, her face red from the talking-to.

Stephanie had never considered the validity of her insult in relation to her own country. The line was from the show she'd recently performed in. It was a musical adaptation of a popular children's book called “The Reluctant Princess.” Stephanie had the starring role of Danielle, a sassy, outspoken princess from a fantasy kingdom who wanted to be everything but what she was meant to be ... the future ruler of her kingdom. There was a lesson to be learned in there somewhere, but Stephanie had no idea what it was.



Whimsy! She had forgotten all about her poor kitten! She was probably hiding somewhere, scared out of her little kitty wits. If she had made it out of the library, Stephanie had no doubt the osta would be able to find her way back to her mistress's dorm. She would probably be hiding just outside the building waiting for Stephanie's return. If she was still in the library, though, that was a problem, although there was still the chance she would come out of her hiding place and follow the girl outside. That little cat was a smart one. Sometimes Stephanie thought she was smarter than she was.

One thing she did not understand, though. How had Susan known the cat was hers? It could have belonged to anybody.



“That's right ... go pick on someone of your own limited mental capacity!” Stephanie called after Susan, projecting her voice so that it would reach the older girl but not go much beyond. She was in enough trouble already for sneaking her cat inside the library; she didn't want to add to her crimes by talking too loud.

Once again, she had borrowed a line from the spunky Danielle. Perhaps she could handle uncomfortable confrontations better if she thought of herself as Danielle. Danielle was smart and brave; Stephanie was neither.

Although her first instinct was to search the library for Whimsy, she resisted the impulse. She had no idea how long she had been lying unconscious, but she guessed it was only a minute or so, considering that no one had found her during that time. Whimsy would still be frightened. It was best to let her calm down and realize she was in no danger. She would then be more likely to come out of hiding when Stephanie called her.

The young blonde smiled at the other girls and then bent down and helped the girl with the top-knot gather up the books. Her face was as red as Stephanie's had been a few moments ago. It seemed she wasn't the only one afraid of Susan. “Thank you for sticking up for me,” she said, as she stood up and placed a book back on its shelf. She glanced at the other two girls again and added: “My name is Stephanie.”

"I'm Gertrude," said the girl, with an expression that said plainly that she hated the name and wanted to hear it repeated as little as possible. Stephanie could see the other girls giggling a little; they dispersed, probably bored now that there was no chance of a Susan-induced death. "You were right to stand up to Susan. She's so bossy and serious. We all hate her, but she's in ninth form so we can't say anything."

Gertrude picked up a particularly ancient book and dusted it off with her smock.

"You must be new here," she commented mildly. "If that was your osta, they're not allowed anymore, unless you have your own room. It's quite stupid, I think. I had a rabbit that kept quiet in his own hutch on the grounds until they made the rule. Then I sent him home with my papa, and he was killed by a fox."

She looked up at Stephanie. "You don't half look familiar," she said. "Have we met before?"

Stephanie glanced in the direction that Susan had gone. Now that she was no longer threatened by the older girl, she felt a bit sorry for her. “She's probably not all bad. People like her taunt others because it makes them feel better about themselves. Most likely, she just has low self-esteem.” The young girl knew all about self-confidence issues. That was part of what made her starve herself nearly to death.



Whimsy wasn't allowed to stay with her? Why hadn't she been told before now? The osta was in her customary place around the girl's neck when she had arrived a few hours ago. Perhaps no one had noticed her because of her tendency to sleep there. She'd go limp and was sometimes mistaken for a fur stole. It was an odd little habit, but one Stephanie liked. The warmth of soft fur against her neck was comforting.

She supposed she could take Whimsy back to stay with her parents, but she really wanted to keep the kitten with her. Perhaps she could get her own room. No, she remembered what had happened when she first enrolled. She had hated sharing a room so much she had asked her father to pull some strings and get her one of her own. He had told her he couldn't do that, and even if he could, the other students would resent her for it.

“I'm sorry about your rabbit,” she told Gertrude sincerely. She bent down and picked up another book. “And that is a stupid rule. It's not just stupid; it's wrong. I'll bet Susan is incapable of loving a pet as much as I love my Whimsy. Your ability to take care of an animal doesn't depend on your age. That rule is rewarding older students just because they're older. Maybe if enough younger students get together and complain, we can get it changed.”



Stephanie put the book back on the shelf and looked closer at Gertrude without actually seeming to. Unfortunately, she wasn't very good with faces or names, but the other girl did look familiar. “Maybe. I'm not really new. I've been ... sick ... and went to stay with my parents for a few months. I used to look different than I do now.” Explaining what had happened to her was always awkward. She never knew exactly what to say. “I was ... quite chubby ... and then ... when I got ill ... I lost a lot of weight. So maybe you remember me the way I looked before.”

There was also another possibility. “I was in 'The Reluctant Princess.'” She wasn't about to say she'd had the starring role. Stephanie was a humble child and not given to bragging. “If you watched the show, perhaps you saw me there.”

Gertrude looked uncertain. "I think it's got to do with living in a dormitory," she said honestly, though she too resented the rule. "They can't have everyone keeping pets, I suppose. The older students get their own rooms so they can do what they like. Some people keep animals in secret, but you can get in trouble for it." She bit her lip. "But it would be nice. Suppose there was a small outdoor pen for the animals to stay in...?"



"I'm sorry you got ill," she said sincerely.



"Oh," said Gertrude. She had a strange expression on her face; it looked embarrassed. "Oh, no, I don't...go to the theatre much. But good on you, for getting a part in it." She smiled nervously.

"I say," she added, "you were bleeding a bit. Do you need a sticking plaster? I've got one in my bag somewhere..."

“I don't get it. Your rabbit wasn't even kept in your room and they made you get rid of it. That doesn't make sense. It wasn't harming anyone and it wasn't harming the grounds.” Stephanie paused for a moment and cocked her head to the side, considering. She would never understand adults, probably not even after she became one herself. They think they are so wise, and then they come up with something like this? Right. They are always telling us to think things through. Why don't they take their own advice?

“I can understand why they might have a problem with cats. Some students might not like having a litter box in their room or they might be allergic. There is a solution, though. They could put the cat owner in a room with kids who do like cats. The parents of some of them might not allow them to have a cat, but they would love to share a room with one. It would almost be like having one of their own. Yes, that would work! And if two students with cats shared a room, the cats would just have to be both males or both females.” She couldn't bring herself to say the word “sex.” It was one of those words that embarrassed her and made her blush. “It would take a bit of reorganization, that's all.”



Stephanie wondered at Gertrude's strange reaction, but she didn't let it bother her. Not everyone thought plays were entertaining. To each his own and all that. She was more interested in the unfairness of the “no pet” rule at the moment.



The young galdor had forgotten all about her fall. She was no longer dizzy and her head only hurt a little bit. She wasn't completely sure if that wasn't due to the fact that she was thinking so hard. “I don't know if I need one or not. I think the blood has dried. I might just need to clean myself up a bit Do you have a mirror so I can check?"

She didn't wait for an answer before speaking again, determination shining in her ice-blue eyes. “About that rule, Gertrude, I think we can change it. It wasn't in effect six months ago when I left, so it's relatively new. As long as nobody complains, they'll keep it. But if someone does complain, and presents a good argument to the contrary, there is a chance that we can have it revoked. We just have to think everything through, come up with a good plan, and present our strategy like adults. It will show the faculty that we younger students won't allow ourselves to be cheated. Then they won't be so quick to make stupid rules that discriminate against us in the future. Will you help me? We can get other students together too, present a united front."

She smiled. "I think it will be fun.”

Gertrude looked a little taken aback by Stephanie's enthusiasm. She was a plain, sensible, rules-abiding girl; privately, she could see some sense in the rule, much as she mourned for the loss of her rabbit. She rarely fought or argued with anyone older than she was. Standing up to Susan had been excitement enough for one term, as she saw it. She fiddled with the bow on her hair, nervous despite herself.

"Er, yes," she said, "I guess I could...help." She fidgeted. "I'm quite good at penmanship, I suppose."

This felt like a small but satisfactory offering, one that wasn't likely to get her into trouble. A generous part of her felt like helping Stephanie out, but a larger, more cowardly part felt like she was going too far to promise to be part of any sort of protest group. What if her father found out?

“Fantastic! You can write out the petition then, and we can get people to sign it. Then we can have a meeting where everyone comes up with ideas on what to do about different kinds of pets so they don't cause any trouble with other students. We'll come up with a plan ... write it all down. I'm good at public speaking so I can ...”

Something didn't look quite right with Gertrude. She looked nervous ... almost like she was afraid. Stephanie didn't want to drag her into something she wasn't completely sure of.

Maybe challenging the rule wasn't a good idea after all. She wanted to keep Whimsy with her, but that was not the reason she wished to fight it. She wanted to fight it because it seemed unfair, discriminating. If the younger students couldn't keep pets, then the older students shouldn't be able to either. That was fair.

But what if she was the only student who felt that way? What if everyone else just wanted to sit back and take whatever the faculty threw at them? Her father had taught her to question everything, to stand up for what she believed in. But if she was the only one who believed the rule was wrong, then she should probably just give up. The best idea was probably to talk to a teacher or someone in authority who could tell her the actual reasoning behind the “no pets” rule. Then she would be able to figure out if it was really worth challenging it or not.

“Look ... Gertrude ... uhhh ... you don't have to help me if you don't want to,” she said. “I won't feel bad or anything. You have to do what you feel is right, you know?”

Gertrude rubbed the back of her neck. She was not a pretty or charismatic girl, and the idea of public speaking frankly terrified her. But so did being unsupportive of someone who was a potential friend. They didn't come along every day.

"Oh, no, it'll be good," she said, feigning enthusiasm. "I think you...we should talk to people first and get their support." She bit her bottom lip. "Do you know anyone?"

“I know lots of people,” Stephanie said. “Well ... I did ... when I was here before. I hope my ... illness ... didn't drive them all away. I haven't seen any of them since I came back, but I've only been back a couple of hours.” She paused, thinking. What if she had no friends left? What if they all hated her now? She had to admit she had pushed most of them away in the last months of her “illness.” She hadn't thought she was worth their friendship then. She hadn't thought she was worth anything. It was different now, though. Hopefully, she would be able to make amends and win their friendship back. If not, she could always make new ones.

“Making friends is easy. You just have to truly care about them, and not just pretend.” She'd just met Gertrude, but she already cared about her feelings. Something in the back of her mind told her that the other girl was not really interested in changing the rule. That was fine with her. Friends didn't have to agree on everything. If they did, then life would be quite dull.

She needed to find out why the rule had been made before she made any more plans. There could be a reason for it that even she agreed with. No, that wasn't possible. She would never agree that older students could have pets and younger students couldn't. She supposed she could just forget about it, send Whimsy home, and bide her time. Assuming she made up the six months she'd missed, she'd have her own room next year anyway. If not ...

Her head was reeling, perhaps from thinking too hard or perhaps from her earlier injury. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind. She swayed just a bit, grabbing onto the first thing her questing fingers found ... the same bookcase she'd crashed into.

Opening her eyes again, she looked at Gertrude. “We don't have to plan anything out right now. It can wait. Tomorrow morning before class, I think I'll see if I can find a teacher to ask about it. We need to understand it before we can fight it. So ...” she said, changing the subject quickly. “Did you see which way my osta went? I really need to find her before someone else does.”

Gertrude nodded, her knot bobbing up and down. "She ran out the door of the Library," she said. "We're near the gardens.. maybe she went there?"

As she spoke, the clock tower rang out a new house.

"Oh, tocks, it's almost dinnertime," she said nervously. "I have to head to check-in. You should go find your cat. I'll tell them you got mud on your boots and had to change. What is your surname, Stephanie?"

Stephanie bit her lower lip, torn between searching for Whimsy and going to dinner. It was very important that she did not miss any meals because of her illness. She wasn't hungry, although that was nothing new. Most of the time, she still had to force herself to eat. Finding Whimsy was more important, she decided. and if she did miss dinner, she had some snacks in her bags. She wouldn't starve.

“My surname's Trafalgar,” she told Gertrude. “And thanks for covering for me. Save me a seat, would you? I shouldn't be long. She usually comes when she's called.”

With a little wave, Stephanie turned and walked towards the library's exit. She had no doubt she would find her osta. What to do with her after she found her was the problem. She doubted Whimsy would be welcome in the cafeteria. Probably the best thing to do was take her back to the dorm, where she was likely to hide under her mistress's bed until she returned and fished her out. Whimsy was a little shy when it came to people. Sometimes this annoyed Stephanie, especially when she wanted to show her off, but in this case, the cat's skittishness was a good thing.

Hoping she wouldn't miss too much of dinner, the girl left the library and headed toward the gardens to search for her kitten.