Behind the Curtain by Elizabeth J. D. (free children's ebooks pdf TXT) 📕

expect you had a pleasant trip?" she inquired pleasantly. Which struck me as amusing, somehow, that the same word could fit both purposes so suitably.

"Indeed!" I called back. "A quite pleasant trip, if I do say so myself, aided much by the expertise of my driver. Things always do go smoothly with him," I grinned, casting a (hopefully unnoticed) wink towards Alexander, at which his mouth twitched and his eyes gave a slight rolling motion. I daresay he would have full-out grinned, except for that this fine lady had arrived, and all such coarse nature must be replaced with the unnatural refinement once more. Our time of being comfortably ourselves had found itself an end.

"I am glad to hear it!" the woman called back. "I am the Madame of this school. On behalf of us all, I welcome you. Let us bring your things in," here two male servants in nice, dressy sorts of tuxedos rounded either side of her and descended the stairs to aid Alexander, "and then we shall all have for ourselves a pleasant cup of tea and a treat or two," she smiled. 'Pleasant.' This woman liked the word, apparently. I supposed in time I'd associate it closely with her. That is, of course, unless her power-holding side won out and I'd smile a little wryly at it. Only time could tell, to be sure.

(*and then several weeks or months later...you see, I'm not finished with the story yet)


The Self-Confession

At last the day came to put my students to the test. And my own skills at teaching, as well. The students were assembled in neat rows as usual. I began the music playing, and turned towards the class. "Now then! It has been a pleasure teaching you all the basic steps for a refresher course - whether for you or for myself, I hardly know sometimes," I said in jest. A few of the students laughed, and I nodded towards them. "But now it is time for us to compile our experiences thus far and assume the beginning positions of our dance. Everyone, choose your partners!" Once again I found myself searching out Chi. And then I was striding towards her. Stopping. Bowing now and taking her hand. "Pardon me, Madame Chiumbow, but may I have the honor of this dance?" I requested, as is customary. An amused, yet somehow hard, light flickered in her eyes, and I felt my mind take leave of me for a second...and then it came crashing back down towards me. "Don't think I haven't caught on to you," she replied in a whisper. "You playact at being smitten but I know your type, sir. You are a flirt and a thief of affections and I will not be taken in by you," she finished in a rush, sounding as if she thought I were the scum of the earth and leaving me feeling as if I'd been smitten, all right. Smitten with a croquet mallet, perhaps, and knocked out of my senses, because I had no idea what she was talking about. But I was not only smitten in that sense. I felt as if I'd been smitten right through the heart with a poker freshly out of the fireplace. I had to keep myself from gaping at the extreme feelings of both emotions - confusion and...whatever that poker one may have been called. More loudly, Chi said, "No, sir, I shall not accept your request, as you do not at all suit my fancy," and turned on her heel. I felt ridiculously embarrassed and all I could think was one word - What!?'

Be that as it may, however, I had to recover from this somehow. "Now, ladies," I said abruptly, turning away from Chi's retreating form and trying to keep a pleasant countenance as best I could. Addressing the rest of the dance class, I attempted to make a lesson if the ordeal. "This is a perfect example of how not to behave in an ideal societal setting," I admonished, punctuating this with a condescending smile, and nodding appreciatively at the girlish giggling that ensued. Perhaps they thought it a joke and not a lesson, but at least they were listening, and their merry voices helped to bring me back to reality. But my eyes flickered over to Chi's and I was hit again with that blasted feeling of my mind taking leave of me. I felt as if I hadn't ever seen eyes before I'd seen hers. They were eyes, just regular, stupid old eyes, nothing special at all. Or so I told myself. But this little niggling at the back of my brain kept poking and prodding at me, whispering that they were indeed special...and that if I could not win the heart of the one to whom they belonged to, I'd wish I never had had eyes at all so I would not know what I had lost. All this went through my mind in the time of one eighth of a second, probably, but it seemed like at least ten minutes. My smile faltered, and - curse her - she saw it. She gave me a look with raised eyebrows and a lifted jaw, a smug smile plastered on her face and her green eyes glowing with a sort of triumph. Suddenly I felt flustered. I needed time alone to set things straight in my mind.

"Alright, then," I enthused, clapping my white-gloved hands twice. "Back to the task of learning how to be graceful! Please pair up and practice. I'll give you all a treat and leave you to yourselves for a bit. No headmaster types staring down their noses at you while you work, eh?" I smiled. To my slight amusement, there were a few groans. I suppose I could not fairly judge them all as a group just yet, but they seemed to be the typical fine ladies. All in a hurry to either be married or 'bag a bird.' That is, at least find a beau. Or several. That is, they all appeared typical except for...well...except for her, of course. And it drove me positively batty. Whether it was her not being typical or them being typical that was bothering me, I wasn't quite sure. Ah, enough pondering in the middle of the dance floor,' I chided myself. Yes, I definitely needed time to myself. The girls were now scurrying about, finding their best friends. Or, in some cases, two would find their best friend and they would fight over whom would have the one as a dancing partner. They appeared busy enough for me to slip out. So that's just what I did. And nobody saw me. Not even Chi. For some reason unbeknowest to me, my eyes had darted about the room until I'd found her before I made my escape. I don't know what I'd hoped for. To see her regret my leaving as well, I suppose. But no luck such as that. She was very pointedly turning her back towards me.

I try not to 'storm' often, but I'm afraid I did, once I was free of the dance hall. I couldn't help it. I had to get away from the dance hall. Away from her. It was her fault I was feeling so bloody horrible for no reason at all. And yet I hated to leave where she was, even if she was making me feel all in a turmoil. Which made no sense whatsoever, that I should want to be close to someone who had just called me out as undesirable to her in front of my students. So yes, fine, I did 'storm' down the hallway. The marble floors clacked loudly in protest, but I barely heard them. The red wallpaper could have been white or purple or black-and-green-spotted and it would have escaped me. Somehow I made it up the cushioned stairs and to my quarters, though if asked how I got there, I'd be at a loss for an explanation. I was simply suddenly there. Sitting at the edge of my mattress, elbows on knees, face in hands, eyes closed. I could see nothing but her. I could think of nothing but her. I could hear nothing but her voice. I could feel nothing but loss, and for what reason? None of this made any sense at all. There was so much occurring of late that I was not at all accustomed to. I'd just been rejected for the first time in...well, I can't remember when. I had been rejected before. Nobody can live for nineteen years and never face a rejection from a lady. It's nigh on impossible. But still, I had not been in quite some time, so this stung a bit more than usual, perhaps. And if that weren't bad enough, I had been rejected by the only person I would ever have minded being rejected by. The mere fact that I minded at all would have been surprising. Generally, I would count it as the girl's loss.

But this....this I did not merely mind. It positively crushed me. And I had no idea, no inkling, could not fathom at why in the world it would mean that much to me. Surely what she had insinuated - that I was smitten with her - could not be the truth? Surely not. "Alright, so I can't seem to take my eyes off her, but that doesn't prove a thing," I muttered to no one in particular besides myself. You see, the thing is, if it had been a possibility that I was smitten, I may have considered it. But I don't become smitten. People become smitten with me. This happened to other people. Namely, other people whom I made it happen to. This didn't happen to me. I can't help it if I'm charming. I can't help it if I'm a heartbreaker. It comes naturally, I suppose. I've always felt proud of it, but all of a sudden I saw what it was like to want and not be wanted, and I felt sorry for all those girls I'd laughed at before. I felt like sending a hand-written note to each of them in apology. Perhaps ask for advice on how to get around feeling crushed, too, while I was at it...

Blast. I'd just more or less admitted to myself that I was smitten with her. Well, fine, say I was. Wasn't being in love - even puppy love - supposed to be pleasant?

If I was smitten, why did I feel so bloody awful?

Tikyl

Along the Road...

One evening I decided to set out for the new land everyone had been making such a fuss about lately. 'Moltara,' (*a fictional underground magma-based society) I believe it was called. At the gates to my destination, I was met by a strange-looking old Gnorbu (*in-game creature). White-bearded, cloudy-eyed, mysterious smile upon his face...to some he may have been frightening, but I was entranced. And by the way he looked at me, I could tell that beyond his dim eyes lay a treasure trove of secrets, of tales. Somehow I seemed to know, by his beckoning nod, that one was for me. And as I stepped closer to him, I knew it was going to leave me changed. Still, I continued forward until I was close enough for him to reach me. Slowly, he raised his arthritic hand. It wavered, fluttered like a bird's wings, and come to a perch on my shoulder. "My child," he croaked in a fatherly whisper, "Come. Listen to my tale." It was a request, yet a demand. Glancing about me for a rock or some type of seating, I came up short. Instead, I sat down on the ashy earth and crossed my legs, Indian-Style. I placed my palm to the