Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(5)
Miss Preston clears her throat, distracting Miss Anderson from whatever she is about to say. “You’re here because your progress in your etiquette training is inadequate. In addition, Miss Anderson tells me she found you sneaking in newspapers yet again. As you are already on probation for previous infractions, these latest shenanigans don’t bode well for your continued enrollment here.”
I nod and clench my hands in my skirts. I should have known that Miss Anderson would run to Miss Preston as soon as she found that newspaper under my bed. Most of the girls here can’t read, so sometimes I read out loud to them. But reading isn’t something an Attendant needs to learn, so it’s frowned upon. Newspapers and novels are considered unnecessary distractions. From the way Miss Anderson acted about us girls reading, you’d think it was something dangerous.
But the contraband was peanuts compared to my test. I wasn’t all that surprised that I’d failed my most recent etiquette examination. Seemed like a bunch of tomfoolery to me. Who could care what spoon was used for what or the proper address for a European noble? Still, I thought I might’ve had a bit of respite before I was going to be marched into Miss Preston’s office. I was already on academic probation on account of not caring enough about the importance of gravy boats. Now it looks like I’m about to get the boot.
And then where would I go? I don’t even know if Rose Hill still stands. I haven’t gotten a letter from my momma in nearly a year, though I still write faithfully. And Rose Hill and Miss Preston’s are the only two homes I have ever known.
I take a deep breath and let it out. “Miss Preston, I’ve been trying. You have to believe me when I say that I’ve been working my fingers to the bone trying to get better at drawing place settings. Why, I went through an entire box of chalk just last week.” I actually went through the chalk because a few of us girls were drawing unflattering pictures of Miss Anderson on our slates, but that is beside the point. “I daresay my efforts have been derailed not because of my difficulties with etiquette but because of Miss Anderson’s treachery.”
The smile that had been ghosting across Miss Anderson’s face while Miss Preston admonished me drops off real quick, and Miss Anderson’s usual sourpuss face reappears.
“Treachery? What treachery?”
I sniff, indignant. “Why, that last test wasn’t even fair. Questions on the proper address of European nobles? And European-style place settings? We ain’t even talked about that stuff in our lessons.”
Miss Anderson jumps to her feet, her face redder than boiled beets. “A ploy? Treachery? It was important etiquette, you ungrateful little brat! I’m preparing you for the noble endeavor of serving as an Attendant to polite society, but it’s like trying to teach manners to an animal. You think I don’t know what you say about me behind my back? That mother of yours—”
“Sarah, that is enough!” Miss Preston surges to her feet, a mountain of calicos and lace. “You will excuse yourself from this meeting. Now.” I’ve never heard Miss Preston yell before, never really even seen her mad. It is awe-inspiring, a woman of the headmistress’s considerable girth moving so quickly.
Miss Anderson stands, gathers her skirts (no small feat, she has to be wearing at least four petticoats), and saunters out, slamming the door behind her. Once she’s gone, Miss Preston takes a deep breath and lets it out on a sigh.
“Sit,” she commands, and I fall gracelessly into the chair Miss Anderson just vacated. Miss Preston lowers herself back into her own chair, her lips tight with dismay.
“Your sardonic nature has worn through Miss Anderson’s tolerance, Jane. I spoke to a few of the other girls about their most recent examination, and I fear you are correct in your estimation of Miss Anderson’s faithlessness. The questions she submitted for you were far more difficult than those of your peers.”
I school my face to blankness, but, inside, my emotions are raging like a creek after a spring storm. The truth and I ain’t very close—uneasy acquaintances at best—so imagine my shock to discover that Miss Anderson really did go harder on me than the others. When I’d said all that nonsense about perfidy, I’d been telling a yarn, hoping that I could distract everyone from my questionable manners. But to know that Miss Anderson has been intentionally sabotaging me . . .
Well, that ain’t such a good feeling at all.
“Jane, I know that etiquette isn’t your strongest area. Many of you girls have trouble with it, which is why we wait until your last year here to introduce it. But providing the ladies of the better families with well-heeled and well-trained girls is central to our goal here. You’re a bright girl, and so I’m going to be frank with you. There isn’t the same demand for Attendants as there used to be. With the cities being declared free of undead, people are beginning to feel there isn’t much of a practical requirement any longer. An Attendant is becoming more a luxury, a mark of social standing. An ornament. Something to demonstrate one’s wealth, at dances and dinner parties. Not a life-and-death necessity. And in this context, etiquette and fashion are more important than ever.” She leans back and takes a deep breath. “I care deeply for you girls. Truly, I do. I want you all to find good homes, to get the right start in this brave new America. And that means training you properly to be a part of it. So while you might feel that finishing classes are a waste of your time, I assure you that your lack of proficiency places you in very real danger of expulsion from this academy.”