Belladonna

1

𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊

Deportment is neither a blessing nor a privilege. It is anything but, in complete honesty. I really don't understand why anyone gives it much bother. After all, no one will ever care; we're orphans, simply people who either haven't got parents or whose parents didn't care enough to keep them or to love them. We haven't got a family image to uphold. If we fall short, no one will notice. Well, no one except for Miss Annie Robinson. She is not a human, I promise you that—she is a monster, a monster who eats little girls who cannot do deportment quite right.

And right now, as she watches me, she is planning on whether she will have me for lunch or dinner. If she will have me with salt or pepper.

I personally think salt is the better option.

I try to look forward at the back of Isla Gilmore's blonde head, struggling with a thick copy of Emily Post's Etiquette balanced on the head, which seems to just be the wrong shape for deportment. (My head, not the book.) All Nia, my lifelong companion and best friend, has to do is balance the books perfectly on the halo braid that she gets Miss Elsie Abner to do for her. The only reason Ms. Abner will do it is because Nia is a perfect little angel and never seems to make any stupid, idiotic, clumsy, unladylike mistakes. Well, at least not when the carers are around. I am the same, except the opposite.

I do not make stupid, idiotic, clumsy, unladylike mistakes when I am alone. But as soon as Robinson's prying eyes are on me, it is as though I have a curse.

It really isn't my fault if I do a cartwheel just as she walks in and then lose my balance and break a china platter or two.

Now, the reason I refer to Ms. Robinson as simply Robinson is because I honestly can't see why I must respect a woman who treats me as though I am an especially nasty cockroach. Like the one that Isla found last week—she screamed so loud that I think maybe she could be heard from space. Robinson is also the reason I keep saying 'stupid, idiotic, clumsy, unladylike mistakes.' She—

I'm torn away from my thoughts, letting out a yelp as the line suddenly comes to an abrupt stop. I freeze inches behind Isla, my shoes squeeking on the flood, thinking most gratefully that I am in the clear.

But I am not.

Because at that moment, I seem to step on my shoelace, and I go crashing into Isla's back. "Ow!" she complains, stumbling forward with a lurch. And for a moment, time seems to slow, and she teeters on the spot, as if deciding whether she will fall or remain balanced.

Most unfortunately for me, she decides to fall in a most ungraceful manner.

And just like that, everyone seems to fall like they were all attached by a string. There's yelling, shouting, elbows and knees everywhere.

This is exactly the curse I informed you about prior—the only one left standing is me.

I can feel Robinson's steely gaze settling on my back, and I whip around to face her. The entire room seems to go silent as I gulp, wincing slightly as the heavy paperback that was previously balanced on my head falls to the floor with a flutter of paper and lands with a heavy thump that echoes around the empty classroom.

Robinson draws in a shuddering breath, and when I accidentally blink twice, she morphs into a tomato right before my eyes. "Arabella Louise Griffith." I cringe at the use of my full name. "Apologise at once for that stupid, idiotic, clumsy, unladylike mistake you have just made that cost us time in a crucial deportment lesson."

Perhaps you see what I mean now?

"I'm sorry," I mutter, looking down at my shoes. When Ms. Abner got them for me at Christmas, they were all shiny and seemed to almost glow when I walked. Now the light doesn't seem to make it look as flattering, and the toe is rather scuffed.