Songbird

Two

Sparrow awoke the next morning on a bed softer than she could have ever imagined. Early morning sun shone through windows that stood taller than her house, and the ceilings were even higher. Little lights like morning dew hung from the ceiling, with tiny yellow fires dancing in them endlessly.

“Where am I?” she wondered aloud. Basil poked his head out from where he had curled up in her pocket.

“We’re definitely not in the cottage,” he observed. He flew to his favourite perch on her shoulder.

“This must be where the yetis took us last night. I thought that was a dream—,”

An annoyed sort of voice swam across the room. “Can you please keep it down? I’m trying to sleep.”

Sparrow sat up and saw another identical bed directly across from hers. In it was what seemed to be a person, a girl, bundled under layers of blankets. The only visible part of her was her head, her eyes shielded by a sleep mask and a head full of rollers. Sparrow tiptoed out of bed, as to not upset her cranky roommate any more than she already had.

She noticed her trunk sitting next to her bed, it’s worn leather looked out of place amongst all the silky interior. The walls were a fluffy sort of pink, with golden trim. The windows wore dainty curtains, lacey and delicate. The floors were so polished that she could see her reflection in the tile, and double doors almost as tall as the windows stood on the opposite side of the room. She walked over and caressed the handle, golden and smooth, and cold under her fingers. The door opened effortlessly, like it had been waiting for her. She peered out into a vast hallway, that was lined on either side with doors just like the one that she had in her room. The hall was lit by glowing orbs that seemed to float, bobbing sleepily up and down. She found that next to each pair of doors there was a plaque on either side. She read them aloud.

“Charlotte and Hattie, Alexa and Rue, Yumi and Florence,” she looked at the plaques next to her own doors. Sure enough, her name was engraved in the same curly print as the rest. Then she went to look on the one on the other side. “Marie,” she read.

A sudden jingling echoed through the halls. Little bells hanging next to each door began to bounce cheerfully all at once. One by one, girls in nightgowns and slippers opened their doors and stepped drearily out into the hall. A stout woman with skin of stone and little wings holding her inches from the shiny tile fluttered to the end to the hall next to a grand marble staircase. Her yellow eyes playfully rested on the crowd of sleepy newcomers. “Bonjour! And welcome to Grindlewink, ze school for Young Princesses!”

A heavy French accent licked her voice as she spoke. “Zese bells mean zat eet ees time for breakfast! So change into your uniforms and make your way to ze dining hall no later zan seven thirty.”

Sparrow went back into her new room. There was a wardrobe and a dressing screen, both carved from a rich wood. It was embellished with engravings of intricate rose buds and baby breaths, encrusted with glistening pink stones. Sparrow opened the bottom drawer and found silk nightgowns and pajamas that were so smooth they fell like water through her fingertips. In the second drawer she found about a dozen or so uniforms in a light shade of pink.

These must be what they want me to wear….

She opened the doors and found a ball’s worth of dresses, all pink as well?

Pink must mean something—but what?

Below the dresses sat a neat row of shoes, the fancy black kind with the buckles. She collected a uniform and a pair of flats. She dressed quickly behind the screen and came out to show Basil.

“So, what do you think?” she whispered to him.

“Very sophisticated,” he crowed.

She rummaged through her trunk and found her gloves.