Ella Enchanted - By Gail Carson Levine Page 0,21

society at finishing school.

Only Hattie's set pretended to be friendly, and they treated me with the same oily condescension Hattie visited on me in public. They were an odious group, Hattie and the two she called her special friends, Blossom and Delicia. Blossom was the niece and sole heir to an unmarried earl. Her conversation was mostly worries that the earl would marry and have a child who would replace her as his heir. Delicia, the daughter of a duke, spoke rarely. When she did, it was to complain. The room was too drafty; the meal was ill prepared; a housemaid had acted above her station; one of the other pupils wore rouge.

The mistresses came to dislike me too. At first, while I struggled to satisfy them and began to succeed, they made a pet of me, which I hated. But when

"finished" behavior became my second nature, they learned I was nobody's pet.

I spoke as infrequently as I could and met their eyes only when I had to. And I returned to my old game.

"Sing more softly, Ella. They can hear you in Ayortha."

I hecame inaudible.

"Not so soft. The rest of us would like to hear your sweet tones."

I sang too loud again, although not so much as before. Music Mistress had to spend a quarter hour inching me along to the desired volume.

"Lift your feet, young ladies. This is a spirited gavotte."

My leg shot up above my waist.

And so on. It was a tiresome game, but I had to play it or feel a complete puppet.

* * *

HATTIE DIDN'T tell anyone about my obedience. When she had an order for me, she'd tell me to meet her in the garden after supper when no one else was near. On the first such occasion, she instructed me to pick a bouquet for her.

Luckily, she didn't know I was goddaughter to a fairy cook. I picked the most fragrant blooms, then ran to the herb garden hoping to find something useful.

Effelwort was my preference. If I found it, Hattie would have an itchy rash on her face for a week.

Most of the herbs were the ordinary sort, but as I turned to leave, I spotted a sprig of bogweed. Taking care not to breathe its scent, I plucked it and placed it next to a rose.

Hattie was delighted with the flowers and buried her face in them. "They're sublime. But what...?" As the scent of the bogweed worked on her, her smile faded, and her expression became vacant.

"What would make you stop giving me orders?"

She answered in a flat voice, "If you stopped obeying them."

Of course. I had wasted a question and I had no idea how long the bogweed scent would last. But as long as it lasted, I could ask her anything and she would answer honestly.

"What else would stop you?" I asked quickly.

"Nothing." She thought. "My death."

No likely release from that quarter. "What orders do you plan to give me?"

"I don't plan."

"Why do you hate me?"

"You never admired me."

"Do you admire me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You're pretty. And brave."

She envied me. I was amazed. "What do you fear?" I asked.

"Ogres. Bandits. Drowning. Becoming ill. Climbing mountains. Mice. Dogs. Cats.

Birds. Horses. Spiders. Worms. Tunnels. Poi--"

I stopped her. She was afraid of everything. "What do you want most in the world?"

"To be queen."

A rabbit queen. Only I would obey her.

Her face was changing, resuming its usual expression of gleeful malice. I tried one more question. "What are your secrets?"

She didn't answer, just tugged cruelly on a handful of my hair. Her eyes lost their dull cast.

"Why am I standing here?" She looked down at her flowers but didn't sniff them again. "Oh, yes. What a good lady-in-waiting to bring me such a beautiful bouquet" She frowned. "But one scent is not sweet. Take it out."

I removed the bogweed and ground it under my foot. If I had thought of it, I could have asked her how she could be defeated.

* * *

HATTIE'S ORDERS were chiefly chores. I think she lacked the imagination to devise more interesting commands. I brushed her clothes, cleaned her boots, rubbed her neck where it ached. Several times I had to sneak into the pantry and steal cookies. On one occasion I had to clip her toenails.

"Do you rub brine into your feet?" I asked, trying not to choke.

I took revenge whenever I could. Spiders and mice from Madame Edith's cellar found their way into Hattie's bed. I'd stay awake at night and wait for the satisfying shriek.

And so it