Miss Mabel's School for Girls by Katie Cross

into whispers as I came out of the darkness. They stopped dancing to stare. 
    “Look!” A second-year pointed. “There’s another butterfly.”
    “It’s not just a butterfly. That’s Bianca.”
    “She’s back!”
    My hair drifted around my shoulders and back, my shoes still in my hands. Leda stood behind Camille on the edge of the crowd. Camille bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement, her hair looking like webs of blue and green, reflecting the butterflies.
    “Great job, Bianca!” she cried, clapping.
    “Did she take her shoes off?” Isabelle whispered. 
    “Raving lunatic,” Jackie said with a bright smile as I passed her. “That girl isn’t afraid of anything.”
    The speculative whispers ceased as I approached Miss Bernadette and Miss Amelia, who fought an amused look of her own. The school held their breath. With a gentle quiver, the butterfly came off my shoulder and flew to Miss Bernadette.
    She gave me a smile, but her lips twitched and her eyes remained distant. Despite the relief and joy in my own chest, Miss Bernadette did not share my feelings.
    “Congratulations Bianca,” she said loud enough for all to hear. “You won your first match.”

Some Dangers
    T he rustle of paper distracted me from studying early the next morning.
    A thick white envelope slid into my room from the crack at the bottom of the door, followed by the retreat of footsteps. I looked away, pretending it wasn’t there. I didn’t want to read it. Thinking about the next match all night kept me from feeling any relief that I passed the first.
    The second match would not be as easy. Despite the frustration – and even danger—of tripping around in the dark and confronting unknown animals, we’d gotten off easy. I lifted my hand and touched the scabs on my cheek from the sharp whip of the tree branches.
    At least it was over.
    Diffused winter light filled my bedroom with gray. Outside, the dreary day blew in with low hanging clouds from the South. A few stray leaves rattled along the black iron fence in the gusty wind.
    Apprehension filled me when, at last, I pushed away from the window and moved towards the letter. I couldn’t ignore it forever. Like the last one, twine anchored two purple flowers to the envelope with a knot, tied over the looping scrawl of my name.
    Repulsed again, I left it on the desk and snuck out of the room with the quiet snick of the handle closing behind me.
    Later.
    An array of students bustled around the dining room, talking over each other in shrill laughs. A blazing fire in the hearth warded off the blue chill of the morning. The smell of fresh bread filled the room.
    The nearest table of second-years exploded into whispers when I passed by. 
    “Can you believe she took her shoes off?” 
    “All those butterflies!”
    “How did she do it?”
    I let them talk, acting as if I didn’t hear.
    Camille and Leda saved me a place at the same long table on the right side of the room. Several parchments littered the table around Camille, and Leda had a few books opened in front of her. 
    “No, Camille, that’s not the right answer. You shouldn’t use comfrey tea. It’ll kill you if you drink too much. Look at the other options.”
    The both looked up when I sat down, and a look of relief spread across Camille’s face.
    “There you are Bianca! How are you this morning?”
    “Good.”
    “You look terrible,” Leda said.
    “Thanks,” I muttered, “I think.”
    Camille patted my arm and shot Leda a perturbed glare.
    “You look lovely this morning. Maybe a little pale but lovely. Have you finished the homework?” Camille asked, her eyes widening. “It’s quite difficult, isn’t it?”
    “It was tricky,” I said to ease the stress lines in her face. Camille turned back to it with a heavy sigh, leaving me grateful she hadn’t asked more. The worksheet sat in my textbook on my desk, incomplete. I’d have to end breakfast early to finish it.
    “Yes,” she agreed with a bitter