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Proserpina

Miss Havisham waits expectantly.

“We had, um, a midnight feast, is all,” explains Iala. “In the dorm.”

“Which dorm?” Miss Havisham asks quietly.

“2B!” says Iala. “3A!” says Ernestine.

“It was sort of in both,” says Iala. “Or either.”

“Only,” says Ernestine, “there was a fight. With food. A food fight.”

“No one was hurt,” says Radiane. “It was all in fun. Gentle fun.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest,” says Iala piously, “someone did get hit with a sausage.”

Miss Havisham’s eyebrow can climb no higher.

Proserpina sits in the back, grumpy, cheeks red and left eye puffing up quite nicely.

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