OVER THE NEXT few days the duties of school absorbed the girl from Poldorama and she began lessons with a grateful sense of purpose. With routines becoming familiar and after the incident of the intruder and its consequences, Pirouette seemed less confrontational with everyone. Even Meresinth had reduced her habit of making instant biting remarks whenever the other girl bemoaned some trivial inconvenience.

Determined to befriend each and every one of her dorm mates Vetta timidly reached out to the girl with spectacles in order to get to know her a little better also. Anthera Malabona was from a hilly village in Meditia, a land dominated by a great central lake where most folk plied their trade upon its waters. Vetta marvelled at tales of mermaids and harbour cats, yet it was the mountainous region that surrounded the inland sea from which Anthera came. Her family had made their fortune by mineral wealth, mining being the backbone of their success.

"Frangea was renowned for its mineral wealth too," she said, blinking hugely behind her formidable eyeglasses which she had also explained were made of special rare crystal that enhanced vision rather than simply corrected it. "Mount Syzywyg is riddled with old mine shafts. That's why the amble walks are so clearly marked. Wouldn't want to tumble down a pit and never be seen again," she chuckled.

"That would be very unpleasant," Vetta agreed. They were chatting merrily in the Squeaky Tomato, which had become a favourite lunch spot among the Wonder girls, but they were not the only ones from Miss Plazenby's there at the moment as the familiar blue and yellow striped tie was much in evidence with second and third year girls enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of the place.

"Look, boys!" Anthera breathed as a group of smart looking lads entered the main eating area. "Don't look," the girl then said, confusing Vetta no end as she craned her neck to see who had entered. "They're Chancefleet boys," Anthera explained, chewing on a chip.

"From the school on the other side of Mount Syzywyg?"

"That's the one."

Chancefleet, the Most Prestigious Academy for Young Gentlemen, was like a rival academy in every way, not just because it was a boys' school. Its elite status and educational excellence was a direct challenge to Miss Plazenby's curriculum and its location, effectively as an immediate neighbour, meant the grounds touched along certain well-contested boundary lines amid the forests. Mount Syzywyg became something of a battlefield during recreation periods and there were disputed areas much contested with a ferocity between the pupils that would alarm the mistresses were they to witness it. Though in some it might engender a sense of pride at such dedicated loyalty.

The boys commandeered a table near where the first years sat and made their orders. As they were close enough for the two girls to hear what was being said, Vetta could not help listening to some odd stories of school life in a young gentlemen's academy. There were references to fizzy pop cannons and wayward footballs with minds of their own and a mysterious tale of a night time ghost seen flying over the foothills of Mount Syzywyg which brought laughter to the fore, as if some present among the boys knew more than they were telling of the incident. Then suddenly the conversation changed to other matters and Vetta thrilled at mention of the Blue Hair Clan. This made her linger long after her slurpy drink was finished and she gurgled her straw noisily while trying to listen and not listen.

"Weren't they here a few years back?" a younger boy said, "causing trouble."

"That's the way of these renegades from polite society," an older boy responded with suavity in his voice. He glanced over at Vetta's table and the gurgling noise which had stopped at mention of the Blue Hair Clan began again as she felt a need to be otherwise occupied. "They're always up to something as they do their rounds of Frangea. Probably long gone by now. Authorities keep moving them on of course but it's a pointless task as they never settle."

"Why not?"

"Don't know. Restless folk are restless and that's the way of them. Some say they kidnap children, dye their hair blue and bring them up in their wandering ways. Would you like to have blue hair?" There was a general cackle of good humour at this.

Vetta meanwhile had abandoned her empty drink cup and was debating with herself whether she might go over to these boys and ask them about the Blue Hair Clan for they seemed very knowing on the subject. She even went so far as to stand and take several steps towards their table as they tucked into lunch. She got so close one or two noticed her hesitant approach, but Anthera grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

"Come on Vetta, can't keep biology waiting," she said in an urgent whisper loud enough to be heard by the boys who all laughed loudly.

The girls fled the Squeaky Tomato then and made their way briskly back to school to begin afternoon lessons but Vetta was bursting with questions during the tram journey.

"Did you hear what that boy said? The Blue Hair Clan are gone."

"So? What's that to do with us?" Anthera reasonably replied. "It's forbidden to speak to boys," she added censoriously as they entered a classroom so that Vetta had to keep silent. Forbidden things were so for a reason, she mused with stoic acceptance.

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***

THERE ARE NO strangers.

Truancy Mundane mulled over these words. They seemed to mean something beyond the bald statement. It was on the face of it a stark challenge to all she had experienced in her life thus far. Wherever the Blue Hair Clan went they were strangers indeed to the folk among whom they found themselves. It had always been thus.

It was that girl who said it while wandering in a park. One of the elite girls from Mount Syzywyg, yet she seemed at ease with shedding such an exclusive persona in a way that astonished her. Truancy had been engaged by a Minder eager to seek out ways to influence troubled minds so that she could cure them expensively as was her calling. Miss Tree she named herself and had managed to engage the attentions of the blue-haired girl by pledging a boon to the Clan. Truancy seemed an ideal candidate to undertake her chosen task, simply wanting the mischievous girl who blended so well into the environment to seek out by secretive ways those troubled souls with peculiarly intense yearnings. Truancy quickly found such creatures too numerous to count for everyone seemed in need of something. Except this timid little character who spouted such odd things about joy this and joy that.

Thus, instead of seeking restless folk she found herself passing through a crowded and busy Orangey Park without a soul being aware she was there, following the girl and another who prided herself on being ever at odds with her. The two seemed chosen by some higher power to test each other regarding their individual perspectives of the world.

It had been rather too fascinating and Truancy lingered over long listening to the strange banter so that a mongrel attracted also by the ever-friendly girl had somehow sensed her presence and fled in alarm.

Truancy managed to recognise the girl as the same one who saw her take the figurine and who spotted it in the woods where it was expected to be found. It had been a gesture, a foolhardy game and Truancy wanted to be spotted too on that occasion, just to see what might happen. The inhabitants of the mountain would be perplexed when the stolen item of notable value was simply left for anyone to rediscover and replace. Yet the girl had seen it and left it unclaimed as if reluctant to right a wrong for fear of creating another.

Such a perplexing creature.

Suddenly Truancy Mundane was seized with a yearning of her own, to speak to this girl, ask her about why she did the things she did, for she seemed a character who appeared not to want for anything. Anything for herself that is. She simply did not yearn. Such contentedness was a delight to witness and perhaps there was significance in her frame of mind which might help the Blue Hair Clan find its own peace of mind. They were a wandering folk but tired and weary withall. She realised also with detached humour such a creature could bankrupt Minders across the land of Frangea if her temperament were once shaped into therapy.

Before attempting to speak to the girl, Truancy knew she must now return the statuette, for of course she did not steal. Then another thought occurred to her. Something else it was about the curious little creature.

She might not yearn for things to help herself but she seemed of a mind to right wrongs as she saw them. She would perhaps feel better within herself by ensuring the statuette was returned to its rightful place. It would be a gesture of friendship, a way to let her know no harm had been intended.

Thus she replaced it in the woods again, only making sure it was hidden from such sharp-eyed individuals as that bespectacled girl whose laser vision almost pierced her own anonymity at times.

Then she waited. Long and weary periods of waiting they were, for the girl did not come and the figurine remained unclaimed, even by squirrels.

During all this time Truancy could easily have returned the thing to its pedestal for after some careful observation she soon found the trick of getting into Miss Plazenby's unobserved, in spite of some close calls from the odd pupils who studied there. Thus to ease her frustration she trespassed into the hallowed realms of knowledge.

***

THE CLASSROOM was empty.

The sounds of voices distant and non-threatening. The blue-haired girl slipped in at a window and studied the layout of the place. Five easy hiding spots if someone entered and switched on a light. Three safe exit points.

Truancy looked around at various desks scattered about the empty room. Some had little tokens of ownership upon them. A fluffy mascot, a few scribbled drawings and at least one that seemed to sparkle with a curious varnish that was clearly not school regulation. She kept well clear of two other desks near the back for they appeared to be a little bit sticky.

Choosing one near the front yet angled to allow her to see doors and windows as well as hear sounds beyond the walls, Truancy sat facing a blank demonstration screen. She made faces, gestured in silence and twirled a pencil she found on the desk. Then she sat back and sighed.

What was this thing, education? Where did it lead to, what purpose did it have? Why did so many young souls gather in these strange academies of formality and learn by force-feeding things that may or may not matter in the greater scheme of things?

Truancy's education was that of experience, of acting and reacting, of observing and evaluating. Yet pieces of the puzzle would perhaps always be missing because the life she led was one of moving from place to place. The textbook of her knowledge kept being discarded before she had read it through and a new one substituted, sometimes in a strange language.

"We are all strangers," she said in subdued tones to an imaginary teacher in front of her.

"We are not," came an imagined response in that girl's soft and sure voice. "We are all friends."

Truancy looked around the classroom, wondering what curious conversations had taken place in it, feeling that here were things she would never know even if she lived to be as old as Mother Lode.

She could make up conversations of course, but they would be missing that deeper authenticity for the limitations of her mind were painful to admit.

"We might be friends," she whispered, dropping the pencil and rising from her seat.

Yes. She wanted to speak to the placid girl, of friendship, education and joy.

Would the girl want to speak to her though?

Perhaps the best way to be sure was to guarantee the timid creature had no choice. Yet she knew such a plan would be considered as going against her fundamental beliefs.

For kidnapping was in the eyes of some like the stealing of a person.