HER HAIR WAS golden like sunshine and her demeanour unmistakable. She was a Perfectine from the second year called Zephany Ildorim and her reputation for style had quickly reached legendary proportions.

Acceptance from Those Who Know was an important precept among younger girls from the land of Perfecta and for all her brash self-confidence, Pirouette Wrangely hungered for a positive appraisal from someone so respected in the higher echelons of Important People.

Thus the necklace she snaffled so gleefully from under the noses of benighted Woebegoners in Help Street she wore in the corridors of Miss Plazenby's at key moments of the day. Whenever Zephany was due to transit from one classroom to another or to some other location there was Pirouette, her wavy brown hair tied up in coloured ribbons and draped over her white blouse a cascade of precious gems tangled with her regulation school tie.

"It is really pretty," Vetta said on catching sight of the sparkly thing on one occasion. Anthera could be heard to snort at a distance and Meresinth sniggered tunefully as was her wont.

"Ignore the barbarians," Pirouette said with a sniff of her own. "Yes it is pretty." Then she pushed Vetta out of the way carefully for a melodious tinkling could be heard in a doorway.

Golden light entered the corridor, vying with the Frangean sun, and the tall, stately figure of Zephany Ildorim, the Golden Girl, appeared surrounded as usual by her admirers.

Pirouette struck up a pose that showcased the necklace and laughed in Vetta's face rather oddly. Vetta smiled at this, not understanding the attention-seeking techniques of Perfecta, nor how effective they could be.

The tinkling sound got closer.

"Well, this is a curious display," came a soft voice in Pirouette's ear and the first year turned to face Zephany.

"Oh, just a little thing I threw on this morning, you know, to brighten up this dour costume and the world generally," Pirouette yawned. Vetta blushed to hear such nonsense and Zephany glanced at her and smiled, which made the Poldorama girl blush even more.

This golden-haired creature really was quite beautiful in a garish way, Vetta admitted silently, but somehow there was something missing. It was possible though to catch a glimpse within her eyes of a deeper sense of significance which was at variance with her display of extravagance. More perplexing complexity to absorb, Vetta mused in gentle dismay.

The unsettling girl reached out and fingered the necklace and it was as if Pirouette actually shuddered at the gesture.

"There is something off here," Zephany said.

"First years," one of her colleagues suggested with a smirk. She was silenced by a gesture.

"No. These diamond clusters lack purity. That ruby is washed out and those firestars are devoid of spark." She looked at Pirouette, whose eyes had grown wider at these disparaging observations. "Where did you get this costumery stuff. It's pretty but unseemly in such company. That pearl at the centrepiece has never seen water in its entire existence."

"W-w-ater?" Pirouette mumbled. "It's not a Gloriosan Lustre?"

"Certainly not," Zephany replied calmly. "The cube shape should have been a clue. Though that's a fun idea, Perfectines do not shine for fun." With that final comment the Golden Girl drifted off, taking her glory and supporters with her.

Pirouette took off the necklace brusquely and glared at it.

"It's still very pretty," Vetta said quietly, having been a witness to this puzzling exchange.

"Then you can have it," and the girl tossed the sparkly gems over the bright curls of the other and marched off.

"But I do not desire jewellery," Vetta protested vainly but without vanity. Pirouette had gone by this time. "I know, I'll give it to a charity shop."

With that she placed it carefully in her shoulder bag, checked her timetable and found an outdoor adventure awaiting her for the next school period.

***

"TODAY GIRLS we are going to learn something about the beach, the Big Blue Sea and how to keep safe on this amazing coastline."

Miss Elia Dubbers was a proud Frangean and did not mind everyone knowing it.

The first years had been delighted when they heard they were going on another outing, more so when that outing was down the mountainside, right through Cherryball Flats and onto the sandy beach with its bathers and tanners, joggers and loungers.

And hucksters.

"Get your unburstable beachball here," someone shouted as soon as they had all arrived.

"It's made of plastic foam," Anthera Malabona said casually as the man paused by what appeared a gathering of affluence in the form of elite young ladies on an outing. "I know the laboratory that invented the froth process which created it." Her family back in Meditia were involved in scientific research of the mineralogical kind, though the land was more famous for swimming, fishing and dangerous cats.

"Which is why, madam, it is so completely unburstable. Guaranteed full of froth and light as the wind. Pink or lemon, or would you like one of our special swirly designs that can hypnotise a seagull at forty paces? Only an extra five coins." He showed a soft globe in vivid orange and green from among the netting that bulged with his wares. One could imagine it making birds go instantly insane with just a glance.

"Come away girls," Miss Dubbers intervened. "We are not here to contribute to a sub-economy fueled by opportunism and mislaid credibility."

"Why not?" Bubbles Bannatyne said and blinked.

"Because you girls are members of an extremely exclusive seminary. Your incomes must pass through many hands before reaching such a level as represented by some of the purveyors of goods to be found here."

"Except, mmm, this," Fizzy Massking said.

"And, mmm, this," Divvy Massking agreed. The twins from Dorm Flare were licking green ice cream cones speckled with minty bits as they spoke. The other girls squealed and rampaged to the nearest frozen dairy stall on the beach front. The sight was amusing as so many wide-brimmed sun hats tried to cluster together in a disorderly non-queue in front of the stall. Hands thrust out from the massed headwear holding insistant coins.

"Well, now that bit of the outing is over with," Miss Dubbers said resignedly as her charges returned each with a flavoured cone which rapidly disappeared in the hot sun by the combination of lick and melt and lick again. There was a soft belch from somewhere that made the mistress squint suspiciously but she was unable to locate the source.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Guaranteed unburstable," came a familiar voice.

"Go away, or I shall call a beach warden," Miss Dubbers warned.

"Miss, one must be careful regarding this, may I say," the usually quiet and incredibly polite Octora girl said. "I understand some of the wardens are on commissions."

Miss Dubbers blinked.

"I do not quite understand."

"They're on the take miss," Bubbles explained with a huff. "Ten percent."

"So, if we were to offer them fifteen percent, these disagreeable traders would be obliged to leave us alone?" Pirouette Wrangely said in a voice that suggested a problem bought is a problem solved.

"Well," Miss Dubbers said in a slightly musical voice unlike her usual tone, "we are learning all sorts of things today on this outing, and we have barely begun."

It was then the Octora girl belched loud and long for she was not used to dairy products.

***

WITH UNEXPECTED lessons on shadow economies, beach front politics and the properties of gases out of the way Miss Dubbers rallied her charges at the thought of protectionism.

"The wardens are here for our safety," she said as the girls wandered away from the busy beach front and closer to the blue surf that rumbled up the sloping sands for miles in either direction, that is north and south. "Any accidents such as drowning or jellyfish attacks they immediately deal with in a polite and professional manner. For free."

"Will there be a demonstration of these things?" Soo Toglak asked, the fierce Mangoria girl looking around for potential stingers in the surf.

"We could throw Petal Mara into the water and lay odds on which of the two accidents she would most likely suffer from," Pinky Ponsonby said.

"Drown!"

"Jellyfish!"

"Complete and utter safety," Petal Mara herself felt obliged to suggest before giving Pinky a mournful look. "I thought we were dorm mates," she accused. The girl with pink hair from Dorm Sensation went pink briefly.

"Why does the water keep going back and forth like that?" Vetta Mindal decided to say, standing very close to the water and staring out to sea. The great wall of water rose up in a gigantic sparkling dome of restless blue and she marvelled at this phenomenon.

"I think it's kind of bouncing," Anthera said, standing next to her own dorm mate in a more supportive way than the Sensation girls appeared to do. Dorm rivalries took many forms. "You know, like in a bath tub after a good slosh."

"What started the slosh to make so much water bounce back and forth like that?"

"My dear," Miss Dubbers intervened, feeling a little sorry for the girl from Poldorama who only knew small contained lakes and canals where she came from. "Foam Fullness does it I believe," and she indicated the moon in the sky, currently a pale half sphere mottled with ghostly surface markings.

"I'm going to fly there one day," Bubbles said fiercely.

"And not return?" someone coughed. The redhead flared up for a moment, thereby hinting at a possible origin for the name of her dormitory. Then she smiled, for there was something in the idea of one way trips which pleased her mightily.

"Do you see that boat?" Anthera said to Vetta, pointing out beyond the approaching waves.

"Where?"

"There, just to the right of that island."

"What island?"

"She means the yacht moored near Pleasant Isle," Bubbles said brusquely. "The big white thing next to the fluffy green thing."

"Oh," Vetta said. "Thank you." She did not want to say she thought the Meditia girl was pointing elsewhere. The latter confirmed she was.

"No I don't mean the Water Sprite," she said.

"The Water Sprite?"

"That's the name of the yacht. It's out of Port Angel if that pennant on the bow is any indication. Difficult to see with the wind whipping it back and forth like that."

"What pennant?" Bubbles said.

"Anyway, Vetta, that boat out there, you see it? The dark speck bobbing up and down in deep sea rollers."

"I can see a speck," Vetta eventually admitted, marvelling at the incredible sight of her dorm mate with the glasses.

"Well, it's sinking. I can see the crew trying to bale it out. Whoops, there goes the distress hooter."

"Yay, a rescue," the twins declared, clapping their hands and splashing a way into the surf as if they intended to participate.

"Well, I hope not," Miss Dubbers said with a nervous laugh. Then she got a grip. "Remember girls, what is it we must do when sailors are in distress off shore?"

"Watch," Pirouette said at a safe distance from sea water.

"And let highly trained professionals deal with it," Victoria Sponge added.

"Precisely. Well done that girl, whoever it was who spoke then. Anyone know?"

There were head shakings and from somewhere, no one quite knew where, a long sad sigh. Victoria Sponge was such an unassuming character it seemed as if she were invisible.

The rescue was effected out at sea by a life craft which roared into action down a sloping jetty, scattering bathers and joggers in equal number as it plunged with alacrity into the surf, bursting some foamy beachballs along the way. There were even a couple of light flitters hovering over the scene with cameras, no doubt reporting on proceedings. The two Perfecta girls Pinky and Pirouette ensured they were some distance from the other first years whenever the cameras scanned the beach so that their stylish poses would show up to maximum effect.

"Well, we are certainly learning lots of even more interesting things in this outing," Miss Dubbers eventually said in a breathless voice once the rescue was concluded successfully and the crew safely landed to the cheers from a gathered crowd.

Of course among such a gathering were a number of beachcombers drawn by the activity.

"Got a coin lady?" one said in a slightly fragrant voice to Miss Dubbers.

"Multitudes," she replied, taking a step back. "Please be gone."

"If'n you got multitudes lady, mayhap you might spare some for us that got not long to live," a glassy-eyed woman dressed in curious rags said, a claw-like hand reaching out suggestively.

"Yessun, what wiv the world ending soon and all," another comber said with a laugh. "I wuz so looking forward to my retirement. Now it's all going kablooiee, whatever that is."

"Do not be ridiculous," Miss Dubbers said sternly. "Girls, stand behind me, downwind," Miss Dubbers said firmly, making gestures. Then she confronted the combers who seemed to increase, for here was a comedy show in the offing.

"Do not be ridiculous, my good man, person, or whatever you may be," the mistress said scornfully, though with a hint of confusion mixed in. "The world is not going to end any time soon. That is merely a gimmick of certain pedlars of doom."

"Says you."

Then to her horror Miss Dubbers saw a small figure with bright hair wander past her towards the gathered combers. They too were shocked and took a step back.

"For you," Vetta said softly, holding out a coin. "For your trouble."

"Don't want no trouble," the glassy-eyed lady said, not touching the proferred largesse. She looked a little discomfited by this generous gesture from an unexpected source.

The shrill sound of whistles drowned out Vetta's response and a number of beach wardens appeared on the scene wielding birch rods.

"Away, away," they shouted. "Scatter!" and they made to hit the combers. Of course as soon as the whistles were sounded the beach folk scattered in every direction, screaming in despair at being driven away. It was an oft repeated performance but Vetta Mindal did not know this as she watched the ragged souls depart as best they could, some hobbling, some limping and others staggering in a semblance of a straight line along the beach and behind rocky outcrops to eventually disappear.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," one of the wardens said, puffing as he jogged up to the Plazenby mistress. "Hope no one was alarmed," and he smirked at the clustered girls, still being bravely shielded by Miss Dubbers.

"Thank you for your help, kind sir," she said politely.

Then it was time to return to Mount Syzywyg and pick useful bones out of the adventure along the way.

"The wardens helped I might say," Sharshua Dragonsong explained to her dorm mates on the trip back up the hill, "because there can be no commission from such people as those."

Vetta did not hear this. All she could do was look back over her shoulder at the bright and happy beach and wonder what life was like for such people as those.

In her hand she still tightly clutched the coin she wanted to give to the strange lady with the croaking voice and glassy eye. A part of her desperately wanted to do so still.

For generosity she well knew was one of the five wellsprings of joy.