Chapter 2: The New Girl

The girls surrounded me. Each wore a little skirt and blouse just like mine. There were five of them.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Their leader had spoken, the tall, tawny haired girl.

"I'm pri-uh-Tyballa, if it pleases you miss."

I lowered my head and made a little curtsy. The girls burst out laughing.

"Well uh-tyballa, you're in my way."

She didn't laugh like the others. Only her eyes moved, squinting.

One of her minions, a short, dark-haired girl, slipped behind me and spoke into my ear, "You looking for trouble?"

She got so close that her breasts rubbed against me. I jerked away from her with an "Eeep!"

The girls laughed again. Their leader smiled and stepped up to me.

"Tyballa was it?"

"Yes miss."

"Get outta my way."

She reached with her fingers extended and pushed my shoulder. I backed up and turned, giving way as she walked past me. The dark-haired girl gave me a light shove. Then she leaned to the leader and whispered, "She has a nice ass."

Their leader also looked. Smiling, she turned back to the dark haired girl and put her finger to her lips. "Shh."

They went on down the hall. I remained alone.

A woman emerged from a classroom and looked at me. She wore a skirt also, but hers was black and hung to just below her knees. Her blouse was tight, its top three buttons undone. She had short black hair and wore dark rimmed spectacles. I'd never seen a woman wear spectacles before.

"Are you lost, sweetie? Who are you?"

"Hello. I'm Tyballa, ma'am."

I curtsied. A smile crossed her face, a wide peculiar grin. Her blue eyes glinted.

"Hello, Tyballa. Are you a new student? And why are you lingering in the hall looking forlorn?"

"Uh..." I wasn't sure what to say. She walked closer to me.

"Come on. Speak up sweetie. What class do you have next?"

I stepped back and looked up at her. "I know not."

She let out the worse half of a laugh, a little snort. Then she just peered at me. I shifted my feet.

"Hmm, well, we can't just leave you here. Let's take you to the administration office and see what they say."

"Very well, ma'am."

"My, aren't you polite. Come along."

She proceeded down the passage. I followed.

"Ma'am."

"Yes?"

"Are you a sage?"

"A what?"

She stopped and laughed again, another snorting sound. I didn't know why she was laughing at me.

"A sage, ma'am, if it pleases you?"

"Ha! Well, I guess I am at that. I teach English – if that pleases you, my dear."

I nodded. She had the biggest smile, but she didn't seem mean, fiendish, or grotesque. She just seemed pleased. She stepped forward again.

"Anyhow, I'm Ms. Christensen, Amanda Christensen."

"Hello, Ms. Christensen. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

I held out my hand, which she took in hers. She smiled and looked at me for a very long time.

We entered the office and a voice cried out, "Is that her?"

"Huh?" Ms. Christensen replied.

"The new girl, named – uh – Tyballa or whatever?"

Ms. Christensen turned to me. The speaker was a young woman wearing a floral dress. She sat on the other side of a counter behind a desk, and there were many strange apparatuses and devices on the desks and tables. The walls were wood paneled and very flat.

I curtsied. "Hello, miss. I'm Tyballa. Pleased to meet you."

She blinked three times.

"Uh – yeah. The dean wants to see you, I guess."

Ms. Christensen took my arm.

"Come Tyballa. I'll show you the way."

The dean's hall was down a passage and around a corner, and it seemed small for someone of her evident rank. A stout desk sat in the center with unbound papers scattered across its surface. Facing the desk were two ornate wooden chairs upholstered with luxurious red velvet. Against one wall were two bookcases with many, many books, more than a library might have.

Behind her desk, the dean sat tall and severe in a chair covered with a smooth hide. Her hair was graying and gathered into a tight bun. Her flat blue eyes peered over a long narrow nose. When she looked at me, she got a pinched expression. She motioned to a chair.

I nodded and sat. Then I looked over and saw that Ms. Christensen appeared to be leaving. Before she could take two steps, I burst out, "Can Ms. Christensen stay?"

Ms. Christensen paused, looking back and me and then the dean. I looked down, realizing that I probably sounded too eager and that asking might have been inappropriate.

With a flat tone, the dean said, "I see no reason why not, if you want her to." She motioned to Ms. Christensen, who came and sat next to me.

"It appears you've made a friend, Amanda."

"Yes. I discovered her wandering lost in the halls."

Ms. Christensen reached over and squeezed my hand. The dean frowned, pinching her face even more.

"I see. So" – she turned back to me – "It appears your benefactor has made quite a large donation to guarantee your ... arrangements here."

She looked at me, as if waiting for a response, but I had no idea what she meant. Ms. Christensen shuffled in her seat.

"Yes ma'am," I answered in a meek voice.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure this is all really proper, taking a girl this late in the term, and of no apparent breeding, lacking any scholastic record, and honestly dear, do you have a surname?"

"Uh –"

"Just Tyballa?"

"Yes ma'am."

Somehow I knew that proclaiming myself Princess Tyballa, daughter of the late King Haugen, Tyrant of Thuul, would be unwise.

She sighed.

"Well, it can't be helped. There are sums of money too large for even the board of governors to ignore."

She gave me another long look, as if again waiting for me to speak, but she hadn't asked a question. I rested my hands on my lap and fiddled with the hem of my skirt.

Ms. Christensen said, "Cynthia, don't be so hard on the girl. How's she at fault here?"

The dean's name was evidently Cynthia, but that seemed too familiar to me.

"By what form are you addressed, ma'am?"

"What is that?"

"How are you addressed? Your lordship? Your excellency?"

The dean looked at me, blinking her old eyes. I glanced at Ms. Christensen, who seemed perplexed.

"Ms. Gilbert will be fine, or ma'am if you like."

"Yes, Ms. Gilbert."

Ms. Christensen spoke again. "Do I understand correctly that some mysterious party has donated a large sum of money so Tyballa could attend here?"

"Indeed. A very large sum. And the mysterious party is what has been described as a respected and venerable law firm based in London, the sort who are very exclusive and very discreet."

"Ah."

"Yes, and I would like it very much if the girl would tell me something about herself. I have a responsibility to the other students. Their families are wealthy also, and not so beset with stealth and mystery. So, Tyballa, how about it. Who are you? What's the big mystery?"

The women waited for me to speak, and each leaned forward, as if this were a drama and I were on the stage. Sadly, I was a poor player. I hadn't learned my lines. So I settled on a bit of truth.

"My father was a man of royal rank, now dead, and I my family's shame, but still of royal blood. I will say no more."