Pulchritudo et Bestia

Schola Domi

"Finally."

Isabella PeteFeather had completed her A.N.I Chart. This particular chart was for a fun debate she had had with a friend of hers earlier that week, in which neither of them won, because she had to go home before either could finish their point. Looking over her work with satisfaction, she stood up, set down her pencil, gently slid the paper into her folder, and got up from her desk. Isa stretched, brushed herself off, and checked her watch. It was now 4:38 pm.

I should probably see what mom is up to.

She thought to herself, before exiting her room and trotting down the stairs. Isa's mother had been cooking, she noticed as she stepped down from the stairs and walked quietly to the kitchen. The smell could only be described as heavenly. Chicken noodle soup was boiling on the stove, and her moms signature dinner rolls were baking in the oven. But her mother was nowhere to be found. Isa noticed a small note placed beside the stove, with a 50 dollar bill taped to the side.

"I had to leave for work, here's some money in case the food I made isn't enough, I don't know when I'll be back. Hopefully you didn't burn the rolls. I love you, Isabella. See you when I'm home. (P.S; PLEASE TAKE OUT THE TRASH. Love, Mom.)"

Of course. You see, this happened fairly often in the PeteFeather Household. Mom would get a business call asking her to go out of state for who knows how long, and instead of spending those few hours packing, she would make Isa dinner. Isa sighed, taking the rolls out of the oven and setting them down next to the soup. She turned off the stovetop and the oven, and ladled some soup into the freshly cleaned bowl she had pulled out of the sink. The rolls had cooled down enough to pull them apart, so she grabbed a few and plopped them down on the small plate that her mother had left for her on the counter. Happy with the amount of food she had acquired, Isa walked slowly, careful not to spill any of the soup, and sat down at their families small wooden dining table.

It was only then that she noticed that she didn't get a spoon. Slightly annoyed with this realization, Isa got up and grabbed herself a spoon. Walking quickly back to the table, Isa sat down, and proceeded to enjoy her dinner. After she was finished, she got up, cleaned her dishes in the sink, and picked up her favorite book off the living room table. She sat down in her favorite chair, and read enough chapters to bore even the most book-enthusiastic person on earth. Isabella sighed and set down her book on the arm of her chair, something that always ticked off her mother, and checked her watch. It was now 7:34 pm. The sun would set in about an hour or two. Bored out of her mind, Isa looked out the window.

You see, Isabella PeteFeather was not like most of the people in the small town of Bryson City. Isabella was a homeschooler. All her life, Isa had been raised to think critically and logically, and to make good decisions. She had taken plenty of classes teaching her how to build strong arguments, and how to survive and thrive in a world full of people who had lost their sense of logic. Because of this, she was much smarter than most of the girls in her community. But homeschooling had its downsides. Isa rarely got out of the house, and when she did, it was usually just to buy groceries or get a coffee at the local shop. Every day felt the same, especially  during the summer, when there was no curriculum to finish, or tutors to laugh with. Even the one person she knew well enough to consider a friend outside of school was busy for most of the summer. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

Why not go into the woods? There's nothing better to do.

Of course, she knew this was a bad idea. Isa had been in the woods hundreds of times, but she knew better than to go out at sunset.

I'll only be out for a few minutes. 

It was that thought, that measly sentence, that caused all logic to be thrown out the window. Despite 16 years worth of classes teaching her to think critically, none of it mattered.

 Making her final decision, Isabella stood up, and tied her long, wavy red hair into a low ponytail. Walking quickly to the front door, and putting on her best hiking boots, all that was left was to pack a small bag, which only took her a few minutes. Despite her better judgment, if it ever existed at all,  Isabella decided not to change out of the dress she was wearing.

It was a flowy, low-cut vintage floral dress, the color of which some could describe as pine green. The floral print was made up of small bouquets of orange and red flowers, which matched her hair perfectly. Isabella wore that dress at least once a week, it was the only thing she never wanted to change. Looking in the mirror, happy with her preparations, Isa stepped out of the back door, and into the woodlands beyond.