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“If I have to spend my life doing things I don’t want to do, then the world may as well end.”
Laura’s eyes widen slightly at the sheer audacity of that statement, made with complete conviction.
“Get up,” she orders. “Now.”
“No.”
Laura reaches down, grips her by the front of her blouse, and pulls her up to her feet. The deportment uniform is now stained green with chlorophyll, and there are bits of twig and leaf in Storm’s hair.
“What are you going to do? Take me to Jane? Get her to cane me again?”
Storm laughs. “I don’t care.”
“I think you do care. I think you care very much. Shall I take you there now?”
Laura makes a move as if to haul Storm off to Jane’s office.
“Okay, stop!” Storm’s voice hits a note of panic. “Maybe I do care a little.”
“Go back to class,” Laura says. “Before I deal with you myself.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Laura’s grip tightens and she pulls up on Storm’s blouse just enough to lift Storm up onto her toes. She bows her head so that they are very much nearly nose to nose. It is a position that makes it impossible for Storm to do anything other than listen as she is suddenly confronted with a sliver of Laura’s potential for inflicting pain.
“I am not as kind or as refined as Miss Strict. If you want a rougher life, you will find one if you keep pushing me. Now. Go.”
She releases Storm, and Storm drops back onto her heels, taking a step back for both balance and distance.
There’s something in Laura’s tone that makes Storm listen. Though she does not want to go back to class, she wants even less to keep poking this big blonde bear. So she does what she always does and makes the choice of the lesser of two evils.
* * *
When Storm returns to the classroom, the rest of the class is practicing their curtsies, still with books on their head. With straight backs and upright gazes, they bob into little motions that make them look… honestly, fucking stupid to Storm’s gaze, but it apparently pleases Madame Pritchard.
“And where have you b….” Madame Pritchard’s voice trails off as she turns to look at Storm. “What has happened to you!?”
“I was in a bush,” Storm explains.
“Wh… how…” Madame Pritchard is lost for words. “We are practicing walking. How on earth could you end up in a bush?”
“These things happen. Should I grab a book, or…”
“You can go take a bath. I will be making a report to Miss Strict about this behavior. It is absolutely unacceptable.”
Storm doesn’t argue the point. She’s not good at walking around with books on her head, but she is good at getting thrown out of things.
Departing the class once more, things go from bad to worse as Storm runs into Frau Lotte almost immediately.
“You should be in…”
“She kicked me out of class because of a bush,” Storm explains, before Frau Lotte can finish her sentence.
The older woman’s lips purse with displeasure. “I will be making a report to Miss Strict.”
“You’ll be in good company,” Storm says, continuing on her way. Somehow these days are all more disastrous than the next.
* * *
