Caroline sat on the bench seat in her room, embroidery project on her lap abandoned. She gazed out the window, at the crushed stone drive. It was so different here from home. A small frown crossed her lips, and she shook her head. It was useless to miss her home, it was gone. And, as her father had told her, this was home now, like it or not. Sold off to the highest bidder, as it were. She let out a deep sigh. It had been a beautiful place, up in the hills, all terraced with tea. The very scent of the place after a rain was heaven. But one now denied to her.

She glanced at her bed, raking her eyes over the uniform that lay on the coverlet. Her father had promised that this was the best school in the city, without exception. To make it through the door girls had to either be well bred, or possessing exceptional skills. It was an odd though to her, going to a school full of other girls. Up to this point her education had been solely private tutoring. Caroline had been able to pick the direction of her studies, and they had been tailored to her interest. Her eyes skipped to her bookshelf, filled with tomes on the rise and fall of colonialism. Somehow she doubted her new teachers would be so accommodating.

The uniform captured her gaze once more. The skirt struck her as short. She hadn't had it on yet, but it looked short, and small. The maid who had bought the uniform was new. She didn't know Caroline. Or her habit of noting her size down as smaller than it was. She frowned again, feeling a tightness in her throat. What if the stupid skirt didn't fit? She'd look so foolish, in front of all of those strangers. She swallowed, trying to fight off the constricting feeling. It did little good. Uncrossing her ankles and carefully setting her embroidery on the window sill, she slid out of her seat and padded across to her bed.

Pulling her dress off over her head, she locked eyes with the dreaded skirt. She picked it up with just her finger tips, and delicately stepped into it. Hauling the skirt up, she grimaced at how tight it was at her hips. Caroline buttoned the side, trying hard to suck her stomach in to get the final button done. She just managed it, smiling triumphantly. She snatched the blouse off the bed, and pulled it on, buttoning as quickly as her fingers would let her. Caroline pivoted towards the mirror, scrutinizing the skirt.

It was short, there was no denying it. She turned, looking at her backside. And perhaps pleats were not the most becoming on her. But it was on. She squinted at the buttons, and smiled again. Even looking closely for it, she couldn't see the fabric pull in an unbecoming way. It was as total of a victory as she could have hoped for. Now, with a few well placed accessories, she was sure she could give the other girls a run for their money.

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