VETTA MINDAL knew the new world she was entering would present challenges to her understanding. She accepted people would behave in ways beyond her comprehension, that her perceptions of motives and behaviour left many questions unanswered.
Being startled and seeking safety was a reaction fairly universal in the scheme of things but when the dust settled, the confusion of panic lifted, then the ability to reason again was hers.
Except for the simple fact that she had absolutely no idea what was happening. What she had witnessed simply made no sense. The only solution to this dilemma was to seek others who might have an explanation of sorts to reassure her she was still in the land of the living. Thus she retraced her steps with terror just beneath the surface amid shadowy corridors that might present additional alarms to plague her gentle soul.
When Vetta returned to where her companions were gathered closely together in a now brightly lit corner of the school she was just in time to hear an outraged Pirouette deny all knowledge of thievery.
'Miss Plazenby will be the judge of that in the morning,' the mistress said sternly, her candle looking dim in the light.
'What's going on?' Vetta asked the chuckling Meresinth nervously.
'Our posh friend wished distinction and now has it, being accused of stealing something.'
'Oh,' Vetta said and despite her nervousness, stood forward into the ring of girls.
'Please miss, this appears to be wrong,' she said and the woman turned to her questioningly. 'The person who may have taken something was not one of the girls in the procession. Pirouette Wrongly-'
'Rangelly,' the accused girl huffed.
'Wrong jelly,' Vetta stuttered and halted as the other girls laughed.
'Silence!' the mistress ordered. 'Pray continue. This pupil here?'
'Yes,' and Vetta nodded. 'She only looks like the thief on the outside as her costume was a similar shade to the real thief.'
'A matter which I shall also bring up,' and she looked at Pirouette meaningly, 'in the morning. Please, continue. The real thief?'
Vetta described what she saw in simple terms, elaborating only on her fear, and panic flight when someone shouted.
'And miss, to find the real thief, all we need do is find a girl with blue hair,' she added helpfully.
'The Blue Hair Clan,' the mistress sighed. 'I heard a rumour some of them might be in the area, a rumour no doubt started by themselves. They're not thieves usually, so I'm not sure what that girl was up to. Right then girls, alarm over. The matter can be investigated thoroughly in the morning. There's no danger, so we'll continue the procession. Pirouette Wrangly, here's a replacement robe. You don't want to be mistaken for a thief again, do you?'
'No miss,' came a response through gritted teeth and with that the strange interruption to the solemn procession was forgotten although the final flourish when all robes were discarded and everyone cheered had a slightly distracted tone to it.