Most of Proserpina’s school is empty. The fact is hidden, badly, by the strategic closing of whole halls under “Renovation And Improvement” tarpaulins–no barrier to a girl who charms the maintenance staff. There is no renovation. Public schools are snapping up the private, wing by wing.
She doesn’t have the ring-punch for a proper lace and she’s only seen them in filmstrips anyhow, but Proserpina does manage to sew one tarp into a rough cylinder and stuff it with sawdust and filched oatmeal. She hangs it from a “renovation” scaffold. She strips down to her shift, and squares up.