Blanche went home unusually early that evening.
She was collected by both Uncle and Auntie together, which, by the standards of any self-respecting four-year-old, was a downright glamorous escort. It was a small triumph the girl wore like a medal.
Inside the academy, the older boys and girls drifted through the last hour of the day in the dim hush that rain always brings. Gavin Rivers sat by the window with his chin propped on his fist, watching the downpour with a pinched little furrow between his brows.
"What's the matter?" Miss Willow asked gently.
Gavin Rivers was eight, the oldest child at Little Red Pony Academy, and next to him scallywags like Roland Rowan, Camellia Whitfield, and Pomona Sheldon were so much dust in the wind. He simply did not care to throw his weight around. He
