journal in time: a girl on institute hill

7/29/2019 Journal in Time: A Girl on Institute Hill

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Chapter 1

ClangClang, the sound of metal hitting metal drifted through the forest. Raulf and I were

spending the afternoon as we most always tended to: practicing our swordsmanship. Or, to put itfairly, Raulf teaching me to be a decent swordsman/ woman. If a guard or a forest dweller had

come across us, he would have thought there were two boys practicing in the forest, as I was in

disguise. I was the lords daughter, and, as such, I should have been in the sewing room with theother ladies of the court. Luckily, at this particular time, those same women were taking their

afternoon naps.

Since I had no desire to sleep the afternoon away, I had convinced Raulf to teach me howto wield a sword. I suppose you could say I am quite forward thinking for my time: I dont wantto be protected by men, I want to have the ability to protect myself. Raulf, being a typical male

(although a younger, more philosophical one) of the court, argued a bit, but being what I

consider a close friend, he only argued a little before giving in.So, here we were, practicing away from our parents, as they would not have approved of

a woman learning the use of a sword.

I cannot believe how you have progressed in a fortnight, Raulf said to me as we

prepared to return to the castle.

I would be better if you had not taken such convincing to teach me, I grumbled as weheaded through the forest.

You do not understand, Adriana, he struggled to explain, this is not truly right. It isquite improper. If we were to be caught

What? I interrupted. Why must it be so unacceptable for a woman to protect

herself? You men go out every rising to hunt, make war or protect. And while there is

protection left for us women, what if it is not enough? What if our protection is defeated?

That is impossible, Raulf scoffed.

It is not, I shot back, Father and the court have enemies. It is thoughtless to assume

that an attack could not occur. What if we are attacked? What if our men fail? What is tobecome of us, the women? Are we to be resigned to our fate, being killed or taken as slaves? Or

can we die fighting, die protecting ourselves? To be put into servitude knowing that we fought

as hard as we could to remain out of chains? I shall not be able to live in servitude knowing thatI did not fight against it. I would rather die fighting, as you would, than be put into chains. I

took a heavy breath as I finished my tirade.

Raulf waited a few seconds before speaking. Those are many ideas stemming from the

failure of the men, Adriana. Your thoughts are founded on an improbability. However, that was

not my entire meaning.

Then what was your meaning, Raulf? I questioned, confused.

He, again, waited a beat, thinking how to best articulate his thoughts. You and I are

both of marriageable age. And both promised to another. I waited, not entirely enjoying hisdirection. If you and I were to be caught, you wouldst be ruined, and we forced to wed. Our

families would be shamed from the termination of our betrothals, we

Stop! I cried. What do you wish for, Raulf? For the two of us to never speak unlessin the presence of others? I cannot abide to that.


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No, he stated, as if troubled by the thought as I was. Never believe I would not wish

to speak with you outside of the presence of others. We are good friends, no matter how it is

frowned upon by our parents and the courts.

Good, I said, relieved. I could not stand to lose you. By this time we were nearing

the castle, and it was necessary to be as silent as possible. As we got closer, we subtly waved to

each other, and went our separate ways. Him to the arms building to return my borrowed armorand sword, and me to the stables, to retrieve my hidden clothing. Once reaching the stable and

looking around, I quickly shed my boys disguise, and dressed appropriately, as a young lady of

the court. Hiding my disguise, I moved toward the castle. On the path, I bumped into one of thegarden servants on her way to the fields.

Outta the way, nerd, she said belligerently. I looked on in confusion; a servant did not

speak to a lords daughter in such a manner. And what was the meaning of this nerd? Theconfusion forced me through the dizzying vortex, from fiction to reality


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Chapter 2

Outta the way, nerd and a hard shove into the row of lockers snapped me out of my most

recent daydream. I had zoned out in the middle of English and had blindly followed mydeparting class through the hall. But my daydream was over too soon as the real world decided

to intervene.

I looked over to see who I had seemingly offended, and there stood the tall, blondecaptain of the basketball team, with his cheerleader girlfriend. Looking at them, hating them and

their snobbish attitude, but at the moment, all I could think was, how do they look so good inthese drab uniforms? Looking down, I took in my ensemble, the same red plaid skirt, whiteblouse and red sweater that was being worn by the cheerleader, and, for the life of me, I couldntunderstand why the two outfits looked so different.

As I was pondering this, I looked up and found the two looking at me expectantly, like

they were waiting for something. And then I remembered; I was at the bottom of the high schoolsocial chain, and they were at the top; I was an outcast or loner, mostly by my choice. I was the

serf to its lord, the slave to its master, the colony to the motherland. As I remembered my place,

my head went down, and I started walking away. Sorry, I mumbled, and practically ran to the

cafeteria with their laughter following me.I felt safer in the cafeteria. While I dont have many friends, it was the one place in

school that I could daydream to my hearts content. Well, at least until the bell rang. I guess

most high school students would agree with the cheerleaders and see me as a nerd. I didntmind. I chose to outcast myself, as I did not see eye to eye with the majority of my school.

While I wasnt rich in the sense of a high school studenthaving friendsI was rich in many

other ways, not counting my familys wealth. I had my own little world that I could escape to,

one that had become more real to me than this world, and one that I vastly preferred. But, as Isat down at my usual table, I realized I wouldnt be able to escape today.

Did you write the proposal for Hendricks? Emma asked. Like me, Emma was called a

nerd. But she was one of those nerds that would go one to win a Nobel Prize in Science orMath. A person who is looked down upon in high school, but about a decade later would be

looked up to for her fame by all of the fake, popular students who insulted her every day.

Crap, I said, I cant believe I forgot that was due today. Saying goodbye to my timefor daydreaming, I took out a piece of paper and a pen, getting ready to spit out my idea. I had

thought about this project for a long time, and I knew what I wanted to write it on. I quickly

wrote the one-page proposal for our mid-term history paper, and opened the bagged lunch Mrs.

Grady, the familys cook, had packed for me this morning.

How do you do that? Anne, our other table partner asked in awe. Like Emma and I,

Anne was termed a nerd, another science major, who was probably going to find the cure for

cancer or something like that.

Do what? I asked, totally confused.

You just whipped out a one page paper in, like, five minutes. I just dont understandshe picked up my paper and began reading.

Hey! I cried. Give that back! I reached for it and grabbed it away. I didnt wantanyone reading it. I knew I had a very little chance of getting it approved, and I didnt wanteither of them to give me that knowing look.

Why cant we read it? Emma asked with a pout.


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After a minute of thought, I still got that knowing look as Anne said, we cant read it

because her idea has a very slim chance of getting approved. And by slim chance, I mean

absolutely no chance.

You dont know that, I shot back. Its a good idea.

It doesnt matter how good your idea is, Emma calmly inserted. You could write the

perfect paper, maybe even get it published, and Hendricks will still fail you after reading the firsttwo sentences. You know how he is.

I dont care, I said, Im not changing it. If he cant be open-minded and understand

that there are different sides to every issue, he should have been a math teacher, not a historyteacher. Even if

Oh boy, here she goes again, Emma muttered to Anne.

Yes, here I go again. Its not fair. I know that everyone has their own opinion, but

being a teacher means that he encourages us to form our own opinions, not I broke off as thebell rang.

Force his opinions down our throats. Emma and Anne finished for me as they grabbed

up their trash and books. Together, we moved to the trash bins and into the hallway. I was

annoyed; I knew they were right, but I wanted to write about interesting topics, not just whatgoes along with the teachers opinion. Plus, I had missed out on a good daydream. Oh well, I

thought,I have all of next period.


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Chapter 3

As I walked with Emma and Anne to history, I kept wishing I was in the forest with Raulf,

enhancing my skill with a sword. I would even go so far as to wish to be in the sewing roomwith the other ladies of the court, rather than going to history class in the twenty-first century.

I love history, dont get me wrong, but I cant stand Mr. Hendricks and the way he

handles his class. History could be so much fun, if we had a teacher who was open-minded andfun. But Hendricks is neither. He is a close-minded, long-winded lecturer, like one of those

teachers you imagine from the 1950s; history is about the facts, not the whys or why nots. To

be fair, we do, occasionally, have discussions; but if a student argues against his opinion, theirgrade ends up being lowered.

That is why I am not doing very well (grade-wise) in my favorite subject. I cannot, and

will not, agree just for the sake of agreeing, or to get a better grade, especially with

Hendricks. We are, basically, polar opposites on the history scaleif there even can be such ascale. Where he deals with facts, and is always ready to defend the actions of the government at

any period in history, I deal in the whys and why nots, putting the blame where I feel it belongs

(much of the time, with the eras government).

I guess it is safe to say that we dont get along. However, while I can understand andeven appreciate an opposing argument, Hendricks does not seem to be able to see past his own

opinion and appreciate other ideas, as I believe everyone should. No one else truly maintains

that opinion, though. My classmates, with only a small exception for Emma and Anne, refusedto think for themselves and blindly follow those with any semblance of power, like Hendricks.

Even the walls in his classroom are terrible. They dont help to bring history

alive. Besides the basic continental maps, there is nothing that would even hint at this being a

history classroom. There is nothing necessary to cover up at test times; nothing to distract you

from Hendricks boring lectures; nothing to indicate that history can be fun.But none of that mattered today.

As I had forgotten that our paper proposals were due today, I had also forgotten thattoday is a test day, signaling an end to another unit. This one on the Antebellum

era. Thankfully, Hendricks tests are multiple-choice tests, as that is the best way to show off

a students knowledge of the facts. Although I would rather write an essay, or have shortresponse questions, multiple choice tests are best in this class, as I cant get points taken off for

my wrong opinions. And, even without being prepared I can finish the test quickly, leaving

more time to return to the Middle Ages.

Lets see, I thought, okay, ummC, ummmBACBDADCCB; wow,

this is too easy.

I quickly finished the test, however, it was only easy because of all of the books that I

have read. It may be my personal feelings, but I dont believe his lectures helped me answer one

question on that test. To be fair, though, I do tend to daydream during his lectures. It didntmatter where I learned the information, though; I had ten minutes left of class, enough time to

meet my Medieval mother in her drawing room, a habit after her afternoon nap.

********


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I was running up the stairs leading to the west wing, the family wing, when all of the

sudden, a bell began to loudly ring. I did not understand what could be making that noise, until,

I realized

********

Stupid fire alarm, I muttered, while moving with Emma and Anne outside. The rest of

the school day was ruined. I had P.E. after history, and Math after that. There was no way I

could find out what my mother wanted today. So, instead of going back to the feudal period, Iwas waiting outside, thinking of what I could be doing and listening to Emma and Anne

discussing the test.

Minutes later, after tuning out the conversations around me, we were allowed to return tothe classroom. My classmates and I made our way to our classrooms; once in the history room,

we took our seats. Moments after we were seated, the bell rang, and everyone rushed into the

hallway. Anne, being well-liked, moved off with a group of her friends, giving me a quick smile

in passing. Emma walked with me, chatting about the test, until we arrived at an intersection in

the hallway.Giving me a big smile, she joked, have fun this weekend. With that, she turned down

the hallway and walked alone to her next class. I glared at her back for a few seconds beforeturning in the opposite direction and walking to the locker rooms. Once there, I quickly changed

into my gym, clothesshorts and a t-shirtbefore heading into the gymnasium.

When I entered the gym, I saw the badminton nets were set up. Here we go, I thought; I

knew that I would be partnered up with someone, and since neither Emma nor Anne were in theclass, this period as destined to be tough. I was right; I was paired with Julie Moore, one of the

more popular girls of my school. We eyed each other when we heard the partnering and sighed

in resignation. During the rest of the period, until we were sent to change back into ouruniforms, we battled together, in silence against continuously changing opponents. Surprisingly,

though we didnt speak, Julie and I worked well together, and the period flew by. Soon enough,

we had changed and were on our way to our last class.

Math, also, went quickly. The class began an in-class probability project; luckily, Emmawas in my class, so there was no awkwardness or silence between my partner and I. I had hoped

there would be a surprise test or another fire-alarm, or anything that would allow for a break

from reality. And I needed that break from reality as it was going to be a long day.


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Chapter 4

When school let out, I was, as usual, picked up by my fathers driver, Roger, who was already

out and waiting to open the door for me.Happy Birthday, miss, he said cheerfully as he helped me into the backseat of theCadillac. I quickly mumbled thanks as he closed the door and circled to the drivers door. I

wanted to leave as quickly as possible as, unlike my parents, I disliked flaunting my familys

wealth. During school, the details of my life dont really matter. Im not the most popularperson, so my birthday doesnt matter, even if I were to advertize it. Added to that, my past

birthdays have been incredibly uncomfortable; I wished my family could forget this day as easilyas my peers do.

Every year, my parents schedule a large birthday celebration for the Friday immediately

following my real birthday. As today was Friday, March 4, my party was scheduled for tonight.

On days of a celebration, I am still required to attend school; but after school is a whirlwind ofpreparation: hair, make-up, nails, dressing, etc. Of course, this day would be no different. Roger

first dropped me off at the house, to quickly (and I mean quickly; I practically had to run), put

my school stuff away and jump in the shower.

After my shower, I ran back to the Caddy, where I was taken to a high-end salon, aboutten minutes away. Once there, I was pampered head-to-toe, but, because of the constant chatter

and movement, I couldnt even get into a decent daydream. I had my hair washed, my nails

(both toe and finger) done, my hair styled and my make-up done. At one point, there were threewomen crowding around my chair. Im not claustrophobic, but that is too many people to becrowded around me, especially when I dont even want to be there.

I guess many would think it sad, or weird, but I constantly, at the salon, wanted to go to a

different reality. I hated sitting in that chair, having my feet, hands and scalp rubbed; listening tothe pointless chatter about fashion and celebrities. I would have even preferred the feudal

dungeons to that.

I thought about how, in this sense, I dont relate to any member of my family, with the

exception of Aunt Pauline, my fathers sister. I wished I could just get up and leave the salon,and remain gone until the party was over. But, no matter how much I argued, or how many

times I snuck away during any function or responsibility, I was always lectured to about familyobligations. And in my family, maintaining a good status is an obligation. So, while I was stuck

under my parents roof, I had to honorthat obligationat least outwardly.

The worst part is that, even though I complain about these obligations, I put up with them

because I want my parents approval. Those lectures of disapproval hurt; I hated earningthem. But, for some reason, I wasnt like the rest of my family. I couldnt be the perfectdaughter they wanted, not that I tried terribly hard. And that was the killer. Even though I

outcasted myself from my family, maintaining the opinion that they were wrong in their lifestyle,

I still wanted their approval.Finally, after close to two hours, I was able to go home. I had mixed feelings about that,

though. While I wanted to get out of that place, I didnt want to go home to dress and attend an

elegant buffet-style dinner party, which I knew my birthday party would be. These parties werealways elegant affairs. Never a bouncy-house or pizza in site. I had elegant tea parties when I

was younger, and, once I hit thirteen, the parties were dinner parties, with my extended family

and my fathers associates (accompanied by their wives and children, of course). It wasnt only


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my birthday that warranted this, though; it was any birthday, anniversary or holiday. I was

destined for boredom and annoyance several times a month.The worst part was that I was unable to go back and meet with my mother (my medieval

mother, that is). Since I couldnt physically run away, I mentally ran away to a different time.

So, when I arrived home, I was totally frustrated because I had just gone through a female ritual I

had no interest in, and I still had a night of awkwardness ahead of me; all without a decentdaydream throughout my whole day.

I didnt have time to dwell on that, though. We had just arrived home, and right after I

had entered the house, I was hustled upstairs by my mother to change and await myentrance. Under my mothers close eye, I dressed and accessorized with what my mother hadchosen for me to wear. Unfortunately, I was unable to keep my frustration and disinterest off my

face.

Really, Adrianna, Mother admonished. You look as though you are dressing for an

execution, not a party. And with that, she flounced from the room, mumbling. I couldnt hearall of it, but I knew it was something like why couldnt I have a daughter that I understood? I

didnt really pay much mind, as she said it often enough, and it was similar to what everyone else

in the family (with the exception of one) said or thought about me. I also wasnt very worriedabout what she said, as I knew that this was just a preview of what was to come tonight; her

mumbled would be nothing compared to the thoughts and looks of my peers.


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Chapter 5

Every time I look into a mirror, I see part of the reason my parents are disappointed in

me. Tonight, even in my elegant, dark blue evening dress, with diamonds at my ears, throat andwrists, with my hair styled and make-up done, my parents will be disappointed. My brother,

Connor, takes after my parents: tall, blonde, athletic and elegantly good-looking. I, on the other

hand, am not like them. I have heard often enough that I am plain; nothing at all like the rest ofmy family.

So, sitting at the mirror, I noticed what my parents see every day, something I choose to

ignore, much of the time. I saw the short, shapely body (not fat, but definitely not model skinnylike my mother), the uncontrollable dark blonde almost brown hair, the plain face, and the dark

blue eyes. I saw that, no matter what, I would never live up to my parents expectations of theirperfect daughter, at least visually. I continually feel like I dont belong and am a constantdisappointment to my parents. I may be overly critical of my parents and relatives, but I dont fitinmy looks, and most importantly, my feelings dont match those ofthe people surrounding

me.

So here I sat, staring at the plain girl in front of me pretending to be elegant. I wish I

could be anywhere else, even at etiquette lessons with my mother in Medieval England. I wishednot to have to suffer through the hours of subtle insults from my schoolmates and the children of

my parents friends and associates. I wish I didnt have to struggle through hours of being polite

and outcasted, while my family looked on, waiting for me to stumble. At times like these, Iwould almost wish I could be and act like my parents desired. I would wish I could be pretty,

girly, elegant and anything else that would make my parents proud. With that pride, I would, at

least, be able to make it through the night. But no matter how hard I wish it to be different, my

parents and relatives will still believe me to be a disappointment, and my peers will to continueto sneer and insult me. All except for Aunt Pauline. At least with her here, I thought,I wouldhave an ally in the enemy camp. I chuckled at the truth of that statement.

Breaking through these thoughts were a rapid succession of knocks on my door.

It is time, Miss, the maid, Mary, called. And with that, my night began.

I took one last look in the mirror, grimaced at the reflection, and left my room. As I met

up with Mary in the hallway, I thought that she would, in looks, be better suited for my life. Shewas tall, skinny, and had grace and poise that seemed to always elude me. Just by looks alone,

she would have made my parents proud to have a daughter. But I didnt have time to dive intothose thoughts as we were nearing my father, who was standing in the entrance to the dining

room.

Youre late, Father said in greeting. And when he took my arm to rest it on his, he

muttered, dont stumble this year.

Of course, father, I replied with a sigh. Last year I stumbled during my entrance, and

my father, basically, left me standing, embarrassed, in front of all of the guests. This year, I wasdetermined to make a smooth entrance; for my sake, not my fathers.

As the doors opened, I took a deep breath, after mentally counting to five, Father and I

began to slowly enter the dining room. I hated this part, even more than the actual party. I hatedthat all eyes were on me; eyes that were analyzing my movements, analyzing every misstep,

every wayward hair. It was very disconcerting. But I imagined myself as a lords daughter,

meeting the vassals; head high, shoulders back, no falling.


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Within seconds, my father and I had fulfilled that one horrid responsibility. And with a

Thank God and a peck on the cheek (for his image more than anything else), my father wasgone from my side. Luckily, most of the guests had turned away; they, too, had fulfilled an

obligation, and, thus the party had begun.


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Chapter 6

It was almost anticlimactic; after that grand entrance, with everyone staring at me, I was left

alone. It was as if, after my entrance, everyone forgot whose party it was. But I knew theydidnt forget, they just didnt care. My fathers associates were there out of obligation, with thehope that a business deal would arise; my classmates were only there because their parents

forced them to come, or to hang out with their friends (who had also been forced to attend),which did not include me. I havent decided if this was fortunate or unfortunate, yet.

Any other time, I would believe it was fortunate, for I didnt want to constantly discuss

fashions and other stereotypically rich topics. Tonight, however, I wouldnt have mindedhaving someone to talk to. Emma wasnt invited, as her parents were not associates or friends of

my father, nor were they considered part of our social class. Anne, this year, wasnt able to

attend; although that didnt matter. She was more accepted, so, even if she were here, I would

only be able to speak to her for several minutes.

So, here I was, basically banned from being included, as my guests ignored me; as I,hour after hour, listened to the conversations on school, fashion, business, wealth, etc, that are

around me. As I wandered around, I would hear little bits of conversation, how the test went

today, what companies were merging together. Sometimes, a more mannered guest would stopme and say Happy Birthday, and one or two of the adults asked about school; but, I was basically

left alone. In the buffet line, filling a plate with the variety of delicacies offered, I heard a

conversation between two of my classmates, about whose party it was. A chuckled a little beforemoving on: who goes to a party and doesnt know who its for?

I shouldnt have been surprised, as this happens every year. My parents throw me a birthday

party, where, for less than a minute the guests act like its my birthday, and for the next few

hours, I knew I feel like a party crasher. One that no one notices. Looking around quickly, I see

Mother and Father in a discussion with another group, not even glancing at me.Taking that cue, I wandered around until I saw an open chair away from any groups.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I headed over to the chair. Sitting down, I took another quick look

around; seeing no one paying attention to me, I let my mind drift.

*****

Bursting through the front doors, I rushed past the servants, hurrying upstairs to my

mothers sitting room. I hardly noticed any of my surrounding in my haste to meet with Mother.

As I reached the door to her sitting room, I paused, trying to catch my breath before entering. I

knew it would not due to arrive out of breath. Feeling that I had my breathing under control, I

knocked and quietly entered.

It was the same as every other day: Mother was sitting silently, embroidering an emerald

gown while waiting for me. Glancing at me as I entered, she stated quietly, you are late.

I paused a moment, berating myself for not having a proper excuse. I am sorry,

Mother, I replied. She looked at me silently, almost expecting an excuse; when I did not

continue, she nodded and gestured to the adjacent chair and the basket on the floor beside it.


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Taking the hint, I quickly sat and picked up my embroidery from the basket. We sat silently for

a time, both engrossed in embroidering new gowns; I was concentrating hard on my task, but

Mothers silence, I suspect, as due to her attempting to gather her thoughts for an impending,

tired lecture.

Adrianna, she stated softly, full of grace and poise. I must speak with you. She

continued her embroidery as she spoke.

I stopped my embroidery and looked up. What do you wish to speak about, Mother I

queried.

She embroidered silently for several moments, as if she either did not know how to begin,

or did not wish to have this discussion. We must discuss our station and the comportment

expected of that station. She did not say again, although we both understand that it was being

said for an uncountable time. Those in our station

Mother, I interrupted. I understand the expectations.

Do you? she returned, staring passively at me as she continued her sewing.

Yes, Mother, I do, I replied carefully.Mother continued to stare passively at me. How does she do that? I asked myself. Ho

can she look at me in that way, making me feel as if I have done something wrong?...She has not

found out about Raulf and I, has she? As that last thought appeared, I squirmed in my chair.

Cautiously, I asked, have I done something wrong?

She stared at me a moment while I struggled to remain still. Finally, she sighed. You

truly do not even know, do you?

I apologize, Mother, but I truly do not, I replied emphatically.

Your father was embarrassed, and both he and I are very disappointed, she began

vaguely. She paused, but at my confused look, she continued. Lord Wolfric arrived today.

Letting that statement hang, she returned to her embroidery, while my eyes went wide withhorror.

Stupid, I thought. How could I have been so forgetful? I suddenly remembered Father

informing me two days past of Lord Wolfrics arrival. I cannot believe I had forgotten.

However, while berating myself, I let out a small sigh of relief as my secret practices had not

been found out. That relief only lasted a moment, as a wave of embarrassment mingled with my

initial horror.

Mother, I began apologetically. I am very sorry. I did not track the time as well as I

should have, and I did not recall that Lord Wolfrics arrival was set for today. I will apologize to

him and his family at meal.

She nodded in assent. Yes, it is necessary. She waited a moment. Adrianna, you

must learn to gather your thoughts and remember the expectations of you. You forget far too

often.

I sat quietly, cringing. I hated these lectures and knowing that I was a disappointment.

All I am able to say is that I am sorry, Mother, I began. I

Adrianna!


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That was strange, I thought. I looked around, attempting to find the owner of the voice

calling to me. Mother continued to embroider, unaffected by the sound.

And then I remembered

*****

Breaking out of my daydream, I quickly looked around, to see who could have been calling to

me. For a few moments, my head swiveled back and forth around the room, not finding the

owner of the voice. I couldnt understand who it could be, as I was ignored by all.

And then I saw her; the only person that would ever keep me company.

Aunt Pauline, I called, seeing her walking toward me. She hurried over and opened her

arms for me, and, gratefully, I went into them.

How are you doing, kiddo? You hangin in there this year? She questioned, lookingme over.

Im doing alright. You know, the usual, I replied, still in her arms. I love this woman;

she was the only person here, and especially in my family, who actually understands me. She isthe family eccentric; she constantly threatens to leave everything to her aging gardener and her

roses, and, sometimes, I really think she means it. Looking at her, I was taken aback, as I

sometimes am by her looks and by our resemblance. Others have actually mistaken me for her

daughter; she had dark blonde curls, a curvy shape and startling blue eyes. As for clothes,tonight, she was wearing an outfit more fitting for a 1950s screen goddess, although the colors

were loud and bright, and not truly matching (even I knew that). But I love her for it. I love that

she flaunts her outrageousnessby the familys standardswhile I, more or less, fade into thebackground. Sometimes, I wished I could be more like her, but I would be as unhappy in the

forefront as she would be in the background. It just isnt who I am.

As if she knew what I was thinking, she commented, honey, you need to get out of your

box more.I laughed, thats never going to happen, I could

Before I could finish, Father tapped his fork against his glass, before he began speaking

to the guests. I quickly checked my watch. Wow, I thought. The three hours had already

passed; it actually didnt seem that long this year.

Before this party winds down, that was my fathers subtle hint that his obligation (the party)

was over and the guests should begin to leave. I just wanted to thank everyone for coming to

my daughters birthday celebration. My wife and I would like to express our pride in Adrianna

as she turns 16. I would like to propose a toast to my daughter; please raise your glasses in

celebration of this special day in my daughters life. This was so awkward. I hated being the

center of attention, and having to be in the spotlight twice in one night is horrible. Everyone was

watching me as if I didnt deserve to have this party in my honor. Thankfully, after years oftraining and a hearty resolve, I didnt turn red, and, this year, when everyones eyes were on me,they saw a poised and elegant girl.

Soon enough, people began to make their way to the door. A few said, Happy Birthdayin passing, but most flocked to my parents and brother on their way out. I didnt mind; it wasntas if anyone had really paid any attention to me during the party. And that gave me time to be

happy that the first round of the night was over. However, the more I thought of the impendingsecond round, the more I wished I could call the guests back.


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Chapter 7

Where Round I was a three hour long dinner with kids from school and my fathers business

associates, Round II is the small party with my family. Luckily, it is just Fathers parents andsister, as the rest live too far to be bothered to travel for the occasion (although Mothers brotherand two sisters did each send me a check). In this round, I was never left alone as I had been

earlier. Here, I would be the center of attention, or should I say, the center of criticism. Thank

God it wouldnt last as long as Round I did. But unfortunately, as I walked into the family room,

I already heard it starting.

That is a beautiful dress Adrianna is wearing Grandmother began.

Well, thank you, Mother replied, of course, I had to pick it out, as she cant bebothered out of her daydreams long enough to choose an acceptable dress. Her choice would

have been most likely more suited for a bag lady, not our daughter.

Oh, come now Charlotte, it cant be as bad as that, Grandfather replied.

But it is, Grandmother retorted, leaning forward, she pays no attention to the detailsshe is obligated to attend to. She doesnt

Now, Mother, Aunt Pauline started, seeing me in the doorway.

Shes right, my dear, Grandfather said in his quiet, calm voice, this is neither the timenor place for this discussion. It is in poor taste to bring it up in this manner.

Thoroughly chastised, Grandmother sat back in her chair.

Adrianna, Aunt Pauline said, come join us! Its time for dessert and for you to open

your gifts. I awkwardly walked inpast the love seat that my grandparents sat and the two

reading chairs where my parents satand sat next to Aunt Pauline and Connor, right in front of a

small stack of presents. These were the presents from my family. Everyone else at the party

brought envelopes collected at the door, which held checks or money (thats how things are done

in my parents circleit made for a very financially rewarding birthday).

As the conversation turned to my parents, the maid began passing out the coffee and

cake. The cake was the only part of my party that I got to choose, and my parents never approveof the cheesecake I ask for every year. So, here I was, again, being ignored at my party. Except

for the occasional pats on the knee by Aunt Pauline, and the condescending glances at me from

everyone else it was as if I didnt exist. But I didnt really mind. At the buffet, I, almost, didnt

mind being ignored, as I didnt have anything in common with the others kids, other than the

familys social status. In this round, I had mixed feelings. On one level, I dont mind beingignored, as that saved me from being criticized; however, I hated the disappointed and

condescending glances from those who are supposed to love and accept me, no matter what.While, anywhere else, if I were being ignored, I could daydream or people-watch; here, I

knew that I had to be careful; at any moment, the focus could shift to me again. So I was left

sitting next to Aunt Pauline on the divan, listening to news I heard a week ago at dinner and

thinking of (and dreading) the mountain of Thank You notes I would be writing tomorrow, to

people who wouldnt notice me if they passed me on the street.

Luckily, I was left alone with my thoughts for the rest of dessert; and soon enough, there

was only one more task to complete tonight. And this task isnt any more fun that the rest of mybirthday. Opening presents is usually the best part of a birthday party, but I was not getting any

presents I would traditionally ask for. I know it sounds selfish, but I want books, and maybe


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some movies, not expensive jewelry, elegant coats or days at the spa. But I knew I would be

getting a variation of the latter.As the maid removed the last of the dessert dishes, my mother moved over to me and

began handing me presents to open, letting me know who the present was from, and then

commenting on it, upon it being opened.

First was from my parents. It was square and medium sized, wrapped in silver paper withblack bows. I slowly unwrapped the present, finding a dark wooden box with a silver

latch. Opening the latch, I found a silver brush set, including a brush, mirror, comb and several

other accessories. I had to admit, the set was beautiful.

Thank you, I said dutifully, its beautiful.

Im glad you like it, my mother replied, holding out another gift, and even you brush

your hair.I let out a small sigh and took the next present. This is from your brother, my mother

informed me. It was a small box, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. I carefully ripped the

glossy red paper. Like I predicted, inside the wrapping, there was a small jewelers box. I

opened that to reveal two stud earrings. They were pretty, but, having never paid attention to my

mothers lessons, I really had no idea what they were other than diamond.Thanks, I told Connor, theyre pretty.

Oh, for goodness sake, Adrianna, my mother exclaimed, these earring are more than

just pretty. At my blank look and small shrug, she continued. These are one carat, round

diamonds.

Wow, I said, still not fully understanding the appreciation I should be showing.

Youre welcome, Connor told me with a small smile. We are so different, that, manytimes, we end up acting like acquaintances, not family. After a small huff, my mother handed

me the next present.

This one is from your grandfather and grandmother, she told me as I carefullyunwrapped the silver papered box. This box was similar to the jewelry box Connor had given

me, although bigger, more rectangle than square. But I knew it was similar to the diamond

earrings.

I was right. I opened the black jewelers box to reveal a pink pearl jewelry set, withnecklace, earrings, and bracelet. Wow, I said, theyre beautiful.

Im glad you like them, Grandmother replied. Grandfather said nothing, probably

because he was as surprised as the rest of us.

These are beautiful, Mother told her. However, she will never wear themcorrectly. Adrianna, we must go through your closet tomorrow, so I can show you the

appropriate outfits to wear with your new pearls.I sighed and looked to the floor. I hated being embarrassed that way. I knew she was

right; I had no idea what to wear with the pearls. As if she knew what I was feeling, Aunt

Pauline patted my knee, and when I looked up, she winked. She was the only person in the

family who had an idea of how I was feeling. However, she had years of experience with coping

with it, and she has enough wealth, independently to be considered eccentric, not weird or

crazy.

That leaves the best for last, Aunt Pauline said, breaking my embarrassment.

Oh yes, Mother coolly said. You could tell she was very uncertain about thispresent. Aunt Pauline was known for her gag gifts, and even I was wary. But the only gift left


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on the table was a brightly wrapped rectangular gift. I let out a sigh of relief. It looks like a

book, I thought. I was more than relieved, I was excited.

And heres the last one, Adrianna, Mother said while extending the gift. I was eager to

see what it was; even if it wasnt a book, as I expected, I was sure to get a good laugh out of

it. However, I remembered my training, and I patiently opened the bright yellow paper.

Inside was a very old book. It wasnt worn as old book tend to be, but it had an oldbrown binding- leather- and the pages had a yellowish tint that comes with an aged book. It

didnt have a title page on the cover or the binding. That was curious; so I opened the

book. Expecting a title page (author, date and whatever else you would expect to find on a titlepage), I found a blank page. Flipping through the book, I found that none of the pages had been

printed; they were all blank. While flipping, I found a folded note. Opening it, I read silently.

Adrianna,You are probably disappointed this isnt a first

edition or even a printed book, butI dont think youneed another book, as you sneak in so many. You can

use it to write your daydreams. I know yourdaydreams are important to you, and they must be veryinteresting for you to be always going back to them. Ihope you will use it, and let me read it someday.Happy Birthday!

Love,Aunt Pauline

Thank you so much, Aunt Pauline, I exclaimed, its wonderful!

I thought you would like it, she replied, hugging me.

Let us see, dear, Mother said, taking the note. Really, Pauline, a journal? It is a nice

journal, of course, but must you encourage Adriannas irregularities? And with that, although

asked in the nicest of tones, my mother had scolded us both; Aunt Pauline for giving me an

unsuitable gift, and me for conveying my delight in it.

Oh for goodness sakes, Charlotte, Aunt Pauline retorted, there is nothing wrong with ajournal, especially if someone has an interesting story to tell. Winking at me, she continued,

would you say that giving a journal to Anne Frank was unsuitable? I think not. Presents should

make someone happy, and I believe I succeeded. With that, she sat back, her green eyes daring

anyone to argue.

I have to agree, Pauline, Grandfather started, you are harboring an unfit hobby. The

Carringtons are not writers, we are professionals. We make money respectfully.I knew what was coming; and before this argument on what a disappointment I was, and

how I must live up to the respect of the family name, I rose and said, excuse me. With thosetwo words, I respectfully told my family that I did not want to hear this discussion, and that I wasready to retire. Taking my cue, Aunt Pauline looked at her watch.

Oh my, she exclaimed, look at the time, I really must retire, I have a long trip

tomorrow.

Pauline, Mother said, We wish you could stay longer. We dont see you oftenenough.


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Aunt Pauline and I exchanged a look. We both knew that Mother liked it that way. The

longer Aunt Pauline stayed away, the less influence she had on me. Although, at this moment, I

wasnt living up to the family name, my mother understood that it would only be a matter of timebefore I became totally unconventional under her influence; and thus, an embarrassment to my

family.

Thank you, Charlotte, Aunt Pauline said after our brief look, but I really must returnhome. With a twinkle in her eye, she added, my roses will me missing me.

As usual, after one of her shocking comments, my parents and grandparents were

speechless. Come now, Adrianna, Aunt Pauline said in the silence, lead me to my room.That worked to put the family in motion. My grandparents rose gracefully from their

seats, mumbling about going home. I moved over to them, kissed each on the cheek and said,

thank you very much for coming, and thank you for my pearls, they are beautiful.

Youre welcome, dear, Grandfather replied. This was followed almost immediately by

Grandmother turning to my mother and murmuring, keep an eye on her, Charlotte. Please

ensure she wears them correctly.

Knowing my duty, I kept silent and moved over to my parents, gave them both kisses

and mumbled, thank you for my gifts and my party. Mother nodded regally, while Fatherreplied, you are welcome, my dear, sleep well.

With that, I turned to Connor and my grandparents, said another good night and thank you,and left with Aunt Pauline amidst the murmurings of goodnights.


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Chapter 8

When we were out of earshot of the others, Aunt Pauline threw her arm across my shoulders and

began laughing. I smiled as we began walking up the stairs, but there were times, like this one,that I didnt understand her. A look at my confused smile only make her laugh harder.

Stuffy old bores, she said loudly while still in the throes of laughter. I quickly looked

behind us, and, after a thought, judged us too far away for the rest of the family to have heardher. Aunt Pauline, after seeing my backward glance, sobered instantly and sighed.

Why are you so afraid of them, Adrianna? she asked in a weary voice.

I thought about it as we stopped at her door. How did you stop being afraid? Icountered.

Oh, my dear she sighed. She turned and opened her door. Come in, come in, sheinvited. As I entered her room, I was as shocked as I was the first time I entered it two years

ago. My parents made the mistake of allowing her to redecorate a guest room, which would be

her room whenever she visited. I have heard often enough that my parents regretted thatdecision, and unless it was necessary, guests were not given that room for their stay.

I found myself smiling as I looked at the bright yellow walls and mismatchedfurniture. Every other room, guest and family, were decorated by the most exclusive interior

decorating company in the county. And, thus, are perfectly matching to a certain theme. My

room, for example, with one of the few concessions to my preferences, was decorated in an

antiquated style, but, of course, matching.This room, however, held a queen bed, with a black frame and a silver quilt. There were

about ten throw pillows, ranging in colors from hot pink to dark green and lavender. The sitting

area and bureau were cheap and mismatched, as they were bought at various yard sales. Myparents refused to enter this room unless it was absolutely necessary, but I loved coming to this

room. It showed me that not everyone in the family was stuffy and conventional. I only wish I

had the courage to flaunt my differences, as Aunt Pauline does.

Come, dear, Aunt Paulines voice broke mythoughts, come have a seat. Shemotioned to the green and white checkered love seat, right across from her in a pink and purple

chair with an explosion of flowers.

Now, dear, Aunt Pauline started after I was settled. Tell me, what are you so afraid

of?

Im not afraid, I came back in a small voice. We sat in silence for several minutes,

until her I know youre lying look finally got to me. Werent you ever afraid? I askeddefensively.

Of what, Adrianna? What would I have been afraid of?

Everything, I replied in a small voice, looking at my shoes. After another few

moments of silence, I looked up and saw her waiting for me to elaborate. Werent you afraid ofdoing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing? Of not doing well in school or dressing

appropriately? I dont particularly want to be the type of person Mother and Father are, but IworryHow did you stop worrying about being a constant disappointment to the family?

Who says Im a disappointment? she asked indignantly. As I searched for a polite wayto answer, she began to laugh. After a moment, she asked, do you want to be a stuffy oldbore?


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After a moment of thought, I smiled, and said not exactly.

Good. It ultimately comes down to that answer. And with that, I suggest we both getsome rest. I know youll need it for tomorrow.

I had enough experience with Aunt Paulines abrupt ends to conversations, so, I was not

surprised or offended by this one. I got up, walked over to her chair and gave her a kiss on the

cheek. Good night, Aunt Pauline, thank you. I straightened and walked toward the door.As I was leaving, Aunt Pauline softly called to me. Adrianna, if you continuously try tonot disappoint your parents when you have no desire to be like them, you will only end up

disappointing yourself.

I didnt really understand what she meant, but I smiled and left. On the walk down the

darkened hallway to my room, I tried to figure what she could mean. But I was tired, and was

definitely not in the mood to find hidden meanings. As I turned to my door and opened it, Ithought that tomorrow, while I am writing Thank-You notes, would be a great time to mull over

our conversation.

As I got ready for bed, in my traditional long-sleeved shirt and shorts, I was again struck

by my oddities, as my parents sometimes referred to them. While my parents and brother went

to sleep in some of the finest, more expensive nightclothes, I was content in a pair of old shortsand an old shirt. Who was going to see me anyway? I thought to myself. They cant bedisappointed by what I wear to bed, can they?

Of course they can, I thought to myselfremember what happened

earlier? Grandmother put a disclaimer on my gift: check with mother to make sure the pearls

are worn properly.

I couldnt believe I was standing in the center of my room arguing with myself aboutimproper sleepwear. I deserted that line of thought and looked around my room. Looking

around at my antique bed, matching bedroom set, antique desk and my three bookshelves (filled,

of course), I noticed my presents piled on my desk. The maid must have delivered them while Iwas with Aunt Pauline. Seeing the journal, I thought, talk about improper.

Aunt Pauline never fails to give me an improper gift. To be honest, I was surprised that

all I received was an antiquated journal. While my parents do not approve of my passion for

books, instead of fashion and status, books as gifts are accepted (if they are a certain style ofbook, of course); however, because I already own so many, my family tends not to give me

books as gifts. Instead, they press expensive and appropriate gifts on me in hopes that using or

wearing the gifts will make me a more appropriate daughter.Thinking back to previous years, this has to be the most proper gift Aunt Pauline has

given. To be fair, she always gives me something I would like or can use; however, the gifts to

the other family members are different. I think it was two years ago, she gave Connor one ofthose singing fish that you hang on the wall. Talk about improper. Although, I did find the

reaction when opening his gift very funny.

I decided that I wanted a closer look at the journal. I dont know why, but for some

reason, I felt drawn to it. I had so many ideas, I found myself hoping for this same type ofpresent for every present-receiving holiday. My mind was working fast, trying to find where to

start, and I hadnt even opened the journal yet.

I moved over to the desk and picked up the journal. Opening it, I took out the note and carefully

tucked it into the top right drawer of my desk. I knew that if I left it out, it would get lost in theshuffle of cards and presents when writing Thank-You notes tomorrow. I sighed and closed the

journal. There will be plenty of time for writing later, I thought. But after thinking about my


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work for tomorrow, I felt that it would be better if I headed to bed. I knew that, even though

writing Thank-You notes is a mindless chore, I needed my rest to get through it tomorrow. So, Idecided to forgo the journal for now, until I had more time to begin.


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Chapter 9

I really need to get some sleep, I thought. So, I turned down my bed and got under the rose

colored covers, on my side. I thought about going into a daydream, but I knew that would keepme awake for a while. For about five minutes, I laid on my side, breathing evenly as I tried to

fall asleep. Since that wasnt working, I started to try other positions: on my other side, on my

stomach, curled in a ball. After, probably, fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, I flopped ontomy back and stared at the ceiling.

Why cant I fall asleep? I asked myself. My eyes wandered around the room, passing

over my bookshelf and bureau, zooming in on the gifts on my desk. More specifically, on thejournal. Seeing that, I knew why I was unable to sleep.

Even though I knew I should sleep, I couldnt; it was as if the journal was calling to

me. But I ignored it and turned back onto my side, facing my nightstand. I lay, curled on my

side, watching the clock change from 11:41 to 11:42 to 11:43 and so on. After watching sevenlong minutes go by, I gave up. Turning back toward my desk, I stared at the journal. I swear, it

was calling to meOpen meWrite in me. I couldnt stand it anymore. I got up, went over

to my desk, grabbed the journal, a pencil and a sharpener (just in case) and dropped back on my

bed with a huff. I moved back under my covers, sitting up against the headboard, and got readyto open the journal and write.

It was weird, but the journal felt as though it was warming in my hands. All thoughts of

today and dread of tomorrow flew out of my head; all that was left were the various daydreamsthat I could write in this journal. My excitement was building as I began opening the

journal. All my fatigue had left me. Fully opening the journal, I flipped to the second page, in

case I wanted to add a title page or illustration later on. Looking at the blank page, with so many

daydreams running through my head, I decided to write about my most recent series ofdaydreams. I thought for a moment of Raulf and swords and feudal dresses.

As I went to write, putting the pencil to the paper, the strangest thing happened. It was as

if all of my thoughts had flown out of my head. I couldnt remember any of my time in thefeudal era. Oh well, I thought,I guess Ill go with another daydream. But as I thought back to

my previous sets of daydreams, I found I couldnt remember those either. Thats so strange, I

thought.

But I didnt have much time to think on it, as I found myself getting tired, more than I had beenbefore getting out the journal. As I felt myself sliding down the headboard, further under the

covers, I thought again how strange this all seemed. Before I could think further, I felt myself

slip into sleep, the journal and my previous daydreams forgotten.


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Chapter 10

The next morning, I was pulled out of a deep sleep by the sun streaming through the

window. Something bothered me about its placement in my room, but I couldnt put my fingeron the problem. I shrugged and stretched before getting out from beneath the covers and

stepping onto the cold floor. I could smell breakfast cooking (the bacon primarily), and I knew

the meal would be called soon, so I hurried over to the mirror and washstand to prepare for theday.

I looked in the mirror, seeing the round face, with its blue eyes and riotous brown hair

around it. I quickly washed my face and hands, and, pulling a light blue muslin gown out of thearmoire, I placed it on the bed. Choosing a matching light blue ribbon, I tied my hair back in a

modest bun. Just as I finished getting into my chemise, pantaloons and hoopskirt, Mother

knocked and gracefully glided into my room.

She took a quick look at me, and the gown laying on my bed and gave a quick and quietsigh. Turning away, she picked up the dress, brought it over to me, and began helping me into

it. Before she turned and left my room, she helped button the row of buttons at my back. As she

was closing the door, she said softly, five minutes, Adrianna.

I wondered, as I often do, if that was usual for a mother and daughter. In many of thestories I have read, a mother and daughter do not spend five minutes together without saying a

word. But, that was the way it was with us.

Even while wondering on the relationship between Mother and I, a stray thoughtremained in the back of my mind. Something did not feel right. While I began to ponder this, I

heard Mother call to me. Breakfast was ready.

I walked quickly, but quietly, down the stairs and into the dining room. Mother, Fatherand Connor were already sitting at the table, and all three had looked up from their breakfast.

Good morning, I said politely.

Good morning, dear, Father replied as he resumed his meal. Connor and Mother bothnodded in greeting and resumed their meals as well. I sat gracefully in the chair next to my

brother and stared at my plate. I was never truly hungry in the morning, especially for bacon,

boiled eggs and biscuits. As I quietly and slowly ate, I glanced at my family; Father and Connorelegant and officious in their uniforms, Mother elegant and beautiful in a peach day-gown. As I

took a sip of my water, I thought of my own clothing, which seemed quite drab in comparison to

the elegance of my family.

Adrianna, Mother softly inquired, are you not hungry? You are not eating.

I am not especially hungry this morning, Mother, I replied. However, in an effort to

please my mother, I bit into a piece of bacon. That action turned out to be a good one, as she

was appeased. I continued to slowly eat as I watched my family finish their meals.

As I was finishing a biscuit, a bugle sounded in the distance. With that sound, Father andConnor stood, murmured hasty goodbyes, with my father giving my mother a quick peck on the

cheek, and left through the front door. Instead of finishing my breakfast, under the disapproving

eyes of my mother, I wandered to the window to watch the morning activities.Professors and officers were leaving the brick homes on the streets that surrounded the

Institute, while, I know, young men were departing from their barracks. All were wearing the


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standard gray of the Confederacy. They were all preparing for the dress parade that was

scheduled for later this morning.Mother, after watching me for several moments, sighed and called to Emma, our

maid. Emma was my age; my family had hired her about a year ago, after her father was sent

into battle. Unfortunately, her father died last November at Chattanooga, and she was left an

orphan, her mother having died from the fever when she was a child.When Emma entered the dining room, she gave my mother a shy smile.

We have completed our meal, Emma, Mother stated.

Yes, maam, Emma replied, and began clearing the table. As she collected the dishes,she looked up and gave me a genuine smile, much larger and much friendlier than the one she

had given mother. If mother had noticed, she chose not to reply, and, instead, left the room.

Emma and I had become close within days of her employment by my family. Neither ofus particularly enjoyed the company of women our age. The talk was always of fashions, of

hairstyles, of the cadets. It was as if there was no war in Lexington. As if we did not see our

brothers, fathers, cousins, friends and beaus preparing for a war that seemed never to be nearing

its end. None of that was noticed; even if we were unable to truly adhere to fashion due to

shortages or blockades. The war was never truly real for a majority of the young women. Theonly exception to that was the ever growing casualty list.

Adrianna? Emma questioned softly, are you all right?

Hmmm? I replied, distracted.

You went away again. This was said with a knowing smile, and I hesitated to

reply. The, I heard Mother calling for me, allowing me to escape from Emmas gaze. I realized

it was time to attend the sewing circle before the afternoons dress parade. As I left the room, Ilooked back and gave Emma a quick, apologetic smile.

I wished I were able to stay behind with Emma, or even just with my studies. However,

as Mother consistently reminds me, I have a duty to uphold. Just as my father and brother have aduty to the army of the Confederacy, we have our duties: we console grieving widows and their

children and we attend charity teas, luncheons and other events. But what is it for? To uphold

an institution of enslaving those who look differently?

I was silent as Mother helped me with my cloak and as she waited patiently while Idonned my gloves and bonnet (It was the second week in March, and there was still a chill in the

air). We grabbed our sewing baskets and departed.

There was such quiet between the two of us, I could hear the marching drums up on InstituteHill. I had never told Mother that I did not enjoy these gatherings, yet I am sure she is aware of

my feelings. We walked silently, side by side, past the houses of other institute families, to

Major General Francis Smiths home. (Major General Smith is the Superintendent- the MajorGeneral of Cadets- and was, formerly, a professor of Mathematics at the Institute.) It was Mrs.

Smiths turn to host todays sewing circle.


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Chapter 11

At Major General Smiths home, we were promptly led to the drawing room by the Smiths

maid, Alice (although I do not know why, as we had attended many gatherings in the Shippshome- we knew where we were going). Entering the drawing room, I noticed we were the first

family to be accounted for, which was lucky, as our entrance was only observed by Sarah Smith

(the wife) and her two daughters, Elizabeth and Lucy.

Charlotte, Mrs. Smith spoke as she rose and moved toward mother and me, arms

extended. Taking Mothers hands in her own, she continued, it is wonderful to see you. How

are Colonel Carrington and Connor? Faring well in these uncertain times?

They are very well, Sarah, thank you for asking, Mother replied, and how are theMajor General and your sons? Are they well?

Andrew, Arthur and Joseph are well, involved in their studies. Thomas is faring well as

a cadet. And Francis the Second, while having the lower half of his left leg amputated, isadjusting admirably, Mrs. Smith returned.

Oh, Sarah, Mother softly exclaimed, I am so sorry to hear that.

It is a difficult time, Mrs. Smith softly stated.

As the two older women continued the conversation, Elizabeth and Lucy stood andmoved over toward the group. Elizabeth, the older and more outgoing of the two, moved over to

me, with arms extended, as her mother had to my mother.

Welcome Adrianna, Elizabeth said in her soft voice.

Yes, welcome, echoed Lucy.

Thank you, I replied, and queried,and how are you both?

I am well, Elizabeth returned, I am looking forward to the men marching in the dress

parade this afternoon. Elizabeth and I were the same age, and thus attended class together.Lucy, several years younger than usfourteen, I believedid not wish to be ignored,

and interrupted, our brothers are marching today. But not Francis, he lost his leg.

I heard, I replied. I am deeply sorry about that. I hoped those were the right wordsto say. I hear he is recovering well, though.

So he says, said Elizabeth. I pity Annabelle, she continued in a hushed tone, how

she must feel, being engaged to a cripple.

Elizabeth! Lucy and I cried.

What is it, dears? Mother queried.

Oh, I stuttered, nothing, Mother. I apologize for the outburst.

Sorry, Lucy quietly stammered.

That is quite alright, girls, Mrs. Smith said. Oh, Adrianna, I apologize for overlookingyou. It was not my wish to leave you out of my welcome. And how are you?

That is alright, Mrs. Smith, I replied dutifully, I have been doing well, thank

you. And you?

I am quite well, all things considered, she replied, and she and Mother quietly resumedtheir gossip before more Institute wives and daughters arrived.

Elizabeth, I hissed, that was very wrong of you to say. Your brother has sacrificedmuch for the Confederacy, you should be ashamed of speaking of him in such a manner. Any

woman would be honored to be the fiance or wife of a brave soldier such as your


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brother. Although I do not agree with the war, I do believe that the army-men deserve support

for their bravery in battle, and should not be slighted in such a way.

So, you fancy Francis, then, Adrianna? Elizabeth asked, with contempt.

Sorry? I asked. Defending a man automatically amounts to fancying him?

When you defend so vehemently, I believe it does, she retorted.

Elizabeth, Lucy spoke, enough. Adrianna is right; you must not speak of Francisso. And her defense does not equal infatuation with our brother. You must stop your attacks of

others, it is not proper.

Elizabeth and Lucy began a heated argument that I had no interest of being a partof. Luckily, Alice had ushered in another group of women, and I was saved from entering that

exchange.

Knowing what was expected of me, I moved over to the group to welcome thenewcomers, as Mother and Mrs. Smith had done.

Hello, Nannie, I said, taking her hands, how are you? Anne Morson (affectionately

called Nannie), although fully accepted by the women and daughters of the community, was one

of the few girls of whom I was particularly fond. She was a genuinely nice person, unlike the

haughty and unpleasant girls that form the majority of our class and the majority of the Institutefamilies.

Adrianna, she replied, squeezing my hands in return. I am very well, thank you. And

how are you, and your family?

We are also well, I responded, or, as well as a military family can be in wartime.

So true. Looking past me, she saw the two sisters in their heated exchange. What is

that all about?

Elizabeth is being mean again, I replied.

To Lucy?

Not really. I thought about it. But Lucy is attempting to generate pleasantness in her

sister.

Ahh. And, with that, Anne moved over to them and attempted to diffuse the situation

between the two sisters, leaving me alone with Mrs. Morson, Annes mother, as well as Mrs.

Fulkerson and her three daughters: Emma, Jane and Cathleen. The three Fulkerson girlspointedly ignored me (luckily, our mothers were engrossed in conversation, or we would have

been scolded for our awful manners), and hurried over to greet Elizabeth and Lucy, whose

argument had ended, thanks to Annes rational interference. That left me standing awkwardlywith the adults, until:

Ladies, Mrs. Smith exclaimed, although we are not fighting or training as our men are,

we still have a duty to our new nation. It is time to get to work. With that, the eleven of usmoved to the chairs, already arranged in a circle, and sat.

As needles, thread and cloth came out of our baskets, Lucy exclaimed, Mother, wecannot begin until the Dentons arrive.

Did you not hear, dear? Mrs. Smith queried, Suzanne has fallen ill. Mrs. Denton didnot wish to pass on the illness, and so she, Theodora and Suzanne elected to make their

contributions on their own.

Oh, Anne said, My sympathies are with Suzanne. We must send a note of well

wishing.

That is a nice thought, Anne, Mother chimed in, looking pointedly at me.


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Yes, Anne, I dutifully agreed. Maybe, when we complete our work, we could send a

note together?

That would be wonderful, Anne replied, smiling warmly at me.

At that point, the eleven of us began sewing. Today, we were sewing presentation flags

for the Institutes regiments. Our sewing circles rotated between sewing presentation flags and

sewing clothes for the enlisted men. As we were sewing the flags, I looked around the room atthe other women. I watched them gossip about other Institute wives and sisters, or speak of the

men at the Institute. Anne was being lightly teased about her older beau, Lieutenant Colonel

Shipp, the Commandant of Cadets. I did not wish to enter into the gossip and the light banter,and was content to watch and sew. Like Mother, the other women of the group were garbed in

flower-based colors and embroidered frocks. Many also sported hair jewelry (mostly

broaches), that held a lock of their husbands, fiances or beaus hair. All were devoid of make-up, as that was improper for a fine lady.

At one point, Anne observed me watching everyone and smiled at me, quickly returning

to the conversation as she was spoken to by Jane Fulkerson. Other than that, I was

ignored. Luckily, as there was a drill planned for later in the day, the sewing circle was brief,

and soon after, we were packing our sewing tools back into our baskets, and, amidst farewells wewere preparing to leave.

I took a moment to help Anne write a well wishing note to Suzanne and the Dentons, mentioningthat we had missed them at the gathering. With that duty completed, mother helped me with my

mantle, and waited while I donned my gloves and bonnet. Saying our thanks and goodbyes to

Mrs. Smith, Elizabeth and Lucy, we grabbed our baskets and strolled down the street to our

home.


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Chapter 12

As we entered our home, Emma quickly arrived to help us off with our mantles and to stow them

in the hall closet. After taking our baskets from us, she quietly left the room, but not beforeletting us know that lunch was served.

We quickly peeled off our bonnets and gloves and followed Emma to the dining

room. As we were eating the sliced meat and bread that were served in the dining room, Mother

said, Adrianna, I am very proud of your deportment at this mornings gathering.

Thank you, Mother, I replied dutifully. I was a little glad to find that she was proud of

me. It seemed that I did not earn her pride often enough. But although she approved of myactions for that moment, we passed the meal in silence.

When the meal was over, she pushed back her chair, stood and said, come now, dear, we

must ready ourselves for the dress parade.

Yes, mother, I replied and began moving up the stairs to my room. As I was nearingmy door, I heard Mother calling to Emma. Several minutes later, as I was in my room, looking

in my closet, Emma came in.

Smiling at me, she confided, your mother does not trust you to choose an appropriate

outfit. She sent me to ensure you wear what she deems appropriate.Laughing, I asked, and what is deemed appropriate, in her thoughts?

She wishes you to wear the pink grenadine.

The pink grenadine? Really? She knows I dislike that specific frock.

Did you not know? Your feelings do not matter; only the suitability is important. You

must look your best, as to catch the eye of one of the men.

Laughing, I moved to the bed, picked up a light grey pillow and tossed it at her. I heard

footsteps pass my door, and, knowing it was Mother, I sobered. Quickly, help me with the

awful grenadine dress. As I stripped myself of the grey-blue dress, she moved to the closet, and

brought down the hated dress. Stepping into the dress, I implored, Emma, I have not had the

time, what is the news?As she helped pull up the dress and began doing up the buttons, she thought about what

she had read. It seems that the storm has quieted, she said cryptically.

I looked back at her, asking, what do you mean? It is over? Before she could answer, I

continued, it cannot be; I would have heard word before this.

No, Emma replied. There has yet to be an end to this war. I simply meant, there is

very little news. There were two battles last month, but neither were large. They spoke of a

small casualty list, and there are none we know who are listed. As I thought about what shesaid, she finished with my dress, and leading me into a chair, began working my hair into a

modest bun.

Where was it? I asked, spinning around, and disrupting her work. Is the front

nearing?

Adrianna, she chided, sit still, and maybe I will enlighten you.

I'm sorry, I mumbled, quickly turning back around.

She kept silent for several moments, but I waited patiently, knowing better than turningaround a second time. I am not sure how close the war will come. Who can ever truly know

how wars will progress? Without expecting an answer, she continued, the two most recent

battles were fought in Olustee and Okolona.


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Where?

I believe the newspaper stated Olustee as being in Florida, and Okolona inMississippi. I don't believe they were on the same day, but several apart. But not the same

troops, for the obvious reasons. I sat in silence as she, without a wordfinished my simple up-

do. As I thought about the news she had spoken of, a thought jumped into my head:

Emma, you did not say...were there any of ours?She knew immediately what I was asking with my vague question. She thought about it

for a moment; during which, my heart began to pound and the worry crept in. I let out a quiet

breath as she slowly shook her head. No, I do not believe so. There were none of our troops inthose areas, and I did not recognize any names on the casualty lists. Besides, we would have

heard news of it by now if there were, would we not?

With that, she turned away, collecting the dress I had worn to the sewing circle, and leftthe room, leaving me to my thoughts.

Of course we would have heard news of the deaths of those connected to the Institute , I

thought, how silly of me to think otherwise. Though I kept primarily to myself, I did know many

of the men from the Institute, as I have basically grown up here, in Lexington. I did not wish for

any harm to come to them. I thought of those men I had known that I knew were out on thebattlefields, not remaining behind in the security, or false security, of the Institute. I sent up a

quick prayer for those army-men who were in the middle of the fighting.Moments later, as I was still immersed in these thoughts, I heard footsteps pass by my

door. The brief hesitation at my door signaled that it was Mother heading downstairs to finish

readying herself for the parade. I quickly shook my thoughts away and stood, flicking the

wrinkles out of my dress as best I could. Quickly looking in the mirror, I deemed myselfadequate, and I hurried downstairs, where Emma was helping Mother on with her cloak.

Adrianna, Mother scolded as she caught sight of me. A lady mustnt rush.

Yes, Mother, I dutifully replied.She nodded at my response and, as Emma handed Mother her gloves, Mother thanked her

and bade her to help me with my outer-clothes. Emma gave me a small smile as she turned to

retrieve me cloak from its hook. I quickly donned my winter bonnet before turning to allow

Emma to help me with my cloak. Thank you, Emma, Mother repeated, dismissing her tocomplete her chores. Emma gave me another smile as she handed me my gloves and headed

toward the stairs. In the corner of my eye, I saw Mothers disapproving look, and quickly called

a thank you to Emma, who turned and nodded in acknowledgement.

Come, Adrianna, Mother bade, as she moved toward the door. I quickly donned my

gloves and followed her to the street.

On the street, we met with Anne Morson and her mother. I greeted Mrs. Morsonaccordingly, and moved over to Anne. Together, we moved behind our mothers, and followed

them up the pathway to Institute Hill.

Anne and I were content to follow silently, as Mrs. Morson was regaling Mother with the

war news from this mornings paper. I listenedalthough it was the same news Emma hadspoken of earlieras I knew Anne was listening intently. That is, until our mothers began

gossiping like the women our age. I rolled my eyes and immediately tuned out of the

conversation. I did not care about the latest gossip. Anne was the same, only, she does not

solely not care about the gossip, she deplored gossip in any form.

Quickly after the conversation changed, she turned to me and inquired, what are yourthoughts, Adrianna?


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Thoughts? I questioned. Thoughts of what?

I was a little worried she was going to ask my opinion on what our mothers weregossiping about. I was relieved when she clarified, the fighting, the war, the politics of it all.

Well... my mind was whirling in thought. How frank should I be in my answer? She

was waiting, looking at me expectantly, so I chose the safer route. With the recent lull in

fighting, I had believed, and hoped, the end was near. But, with the more recent battles, I fearthe war is destined to continue.

Very true. I had hopes as well. I am not going to try to hide my ignorance; how could a

war brought on by seemingly very little, last this long? It has already been close to three years.

It seems as if it has been much longer.

Does it? she asked in response.

It certainly seems that way. You said that the war seemed to have begun over very little,therefore it should have been a short war. It is unlike the many wars we have learned

about. Where are the missives for peace? Where are the compromises?

Both sides of the nation are refusing to compromise. The leaders are very unmoving on

their demands. It is all or nothing. She said the last as a whisper, glancing worriedly at our

mothers. I thought she was going to end the conversation, but she continued. I hate havingmen we know die for a cause that I do not understand.

What is difficult to understand about slavery?

You know this war is not solely about slavery, but that is what I do not understand. We

do not hold slaves, we pay our servants handsomely. Why are we fighting a war that only

benefits those who hold slaves?

Anne, I started, ready to speak of my similar opinions; however, I noticed, out of thecorner of my eye, that our mothers were looking back on us. My mothers expression was a mixof disapproval and joy. Disapproval because I was following slowly and forcing her and Mrs.

Morson to wait for us; joy because it seemed as though I were gossiping with a peer, which sheapproved of, as she gossiped with her peers.

Anne had looked to where my attention had focused, noting the annoyed look on her

mothers face. If it was possible, her already straight posture straightened even more, and,

moving toward our mothers, she gave me an apologetic glance. I quickly followed her, in fear ofdisappointing Mother any further.


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Chapter 13

As we made it to the grounds, we saw families scattered along the sides of the parade grounds, in

front of the barracks. Seeing our usual area open, our party of four moved to stand in thatspot. We passed many familiar faces on the way to our spot, and we greeted each properly,but in a hurried manner, for, as it was, we made it to the spot as the bugle sounded, marking the

beginning of the dress parade.Everyone watched in silence as the flag bearers, in their dress grays, came into

sight. There were three flags, the Stars and Bars of the Confederacy at the center and the VMI

colors at each side. Next in the parade was the music line, with its drums and fifes. Followingthat, were the lines of cadets. Each line held twenty-four cadets, in a four by eight pattern, led

by two instructors. TheRats, or freshmen, were first, followed by second-year cadets, and so

on. They marched in the rectangular pattern around the parade grounds, and formed twenty-four

person lines on the edge of the grounds. All went silent. After a gun-salute to their fallencomrades, the drums began again, and the cadets filed out in the same fashion they had entered,

only the Rats were at the end of the procession.

This parade, like the ones of several years past, were drastically different than the dress

parades that occurred before the war. For one, the amount of men in the Institute had drasticallydecreased; many families now sent their sons to Lexington for a year (sometimes less) of combat

training, before they entered the military. Thus, there were many Rats, but not many

upperclassmen; especially in the third and fourth-year groups. Secondly, the attendance wasmainly female. All of the older men of Lexington had joined the war; the only men that were left

were the commanders and students at the Institute. They were our protection.

As the second-year cadets passed by our group, I saw Connor, elegant even in the

Confederate-gray uniform. I only thought about that for a moment as, following in the next linewas Frank Atwill.

Frank, whose name is truly Samuel, and I had become friends, in a fashion. And, as I

watched him march past, my mind was taken back to when I had first met him...

***

You are going to be excessively early, Emma commented as we walked up the trail thatled to the Institute. She was right, I was going to be early. But I did not mind; the sooner I

arrived at the classroom, the more choice I had as to where I would sit.

So, I laughed, and replied, I know. I wish to arrive early. Emma only shook her headbefore joining in my laughter. During the brief exchange, we had arrived on Institute Hill, and in

our laughter, were not watching our step as carefully as we should. Unfortunately, there was

another person who was not paying attention to his surroundings. Before we knew it, a cadet and

I walked right into each other.Knowing the attitudes of a majority of the cadets, I quickly mumbled an apology, without

looking up.

Unexpectedly, he replied, not with the usual watch your step or words to that effect, but

rather a polite, no, I am sorry, I am entirely at fault. Are you all right?

Surprised, I glanced up and saw a pair of light, smiling eyes in a smooth face, surrounded

by light brown hair. No, Emma and I should have been watching where we were headed.


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Emma? he clarified, looking over to her as she nodded. It is nice to meet you,

Emma. Samuel Atwill, at your service, ladies. Although, all my friends call me Frank. And you

are?

Oh, sorry. Adrianna Carrington.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Carrington. I believe I have your father as an

instructor. Colonel Carrington, correct?Oh, yes, Colonel Carrington is my father. I was a little taken aback by the

conversation. None of the other cadets talked to me as I was on Institute Hill, unless Mother was

accompanying me. My mind raced to think of a conversation piece. After an awkward moment,

I asked, Where are you from Mr. Atwill?

I hail from Atwillton. That is near Montrose and Richmond.

You are a good distance from home, then?

I ashamedly admit that I have felt homesick since first arriving here two months ago.

I smiled gently and replied, that is to be expected...

***

I was brought out of my memories by a hand on my arm. Adrianna, Anne

whispered. I quickly looked up and saw the parade was over and that Mother and Mrs. Morsonwere looking at me with narrowed eyes. It was time to head back to the house.

The four of us returned to the street as we had arrived on Institute Hill: Mother and Mrs.

Morson leading the way with their gossip and Anne and I following behind. Anne and I were

silent, as I continued to think about that first conversation with Frank.It had been about a year and a half since that first conversation. Frank and I had many

conversations since then, and had become good friends; the first cadet friend I have had in the

time I had been in Lexington. That first conversation hadnt lasted much longer than I hadremembered on the parade grounds. I learned that, that day a year and a half ago, that Frank

Atwill was a Rat (now a Cadet Corporal), a devout Christian, and had a hidden sense of humor

under an outwardly stoic nat

journal in time: a girl on institute hill

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