The Unenchanted Tales of Jasmine White

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A/N: *aggressively encourages you to re-read everything because this author had to just to write this chapter!* *also aggressively apologizes for not updating, and swears to give more consistent chapters from now on. Pinky promise. Remember to vote and show some love!* 

“Chin up, tummy tucked.” Mrs. Meyer points out, tapping me under my chin and then proceeding to whack my stomach with the long ruler. I wince but do as told.

            She nods her head, satisfied. “You know, Jasmine. You’re pretty good at this.”

            I hold back a guffaw. “Yeah, right.”

            At my comment, her face dims and eyebrows tilt downwards. “Jasmine,” she warns, any traces of the chirpiness in her voice gone. “When a person compliments you, you take it with grace and say ‘thank you’.”

            “Oops, sorry. I mean, uh, yeah. Thanks I guess?” I wince and absentmindedly hang my head down, forgetting the two dictionaries stacked on top of my head, causing them to topple onto my feet with a loud thud. Wincing once more, I apologize and bend down sheepishly to pick them up and balance them over my head with much effort.

            Yes, etiquette lessons were not easy feat.

            “I think we should take a break.” Mrs. Meyer smiles, and I immediately let out a sigh of relief.

            “Awesome.” I say, chucking the thick dictionaries to a corner and rumpling on the carpeted floor.

            “Jasmine!” Mrs. Meyer yells with horror. I can hear the frown in her voice. “I will not accept such ungraceful behavior from a girl! Pick yourself up to the couch this instant!” I think she’s finally catching on to my mother’s warnings on my “ungraceful behavior”.

            But I don’t defy her orders. “Fine.” I grumble, dragging myself to the leather couch and mashing my cheek to the seat instead of actually sitting on it like I should.

          “I think we’ve done quite a lot today. Hopefully your performance will improve within the span of your stay.” Mrs. Meyer says this and quickly clears her throat, and on her face was a flash of annoyance – the same expression I saw on my previous etiquette teacher. I remember her calling me “hopeless” and “a disgust to the female race”. Hell, like I cared.

            Mrs. Meyer patted me gently on the back, and then motioned with her hand for me to rise from my comfortable position. Unwillingly, I dragged myself up and followed her out of the room, shuffling my feet while suppressing a groan. She spun around faster than I could say “What?”

“Jasmine! There will be no shuffling in this house! Lift up your heels and always walk with a light spring in your step.” Mrs. Meyer admonished.

This was pure torture. I had a routine that I had to do twice every week after school. It consisted of balancing books on the head for around ten minutes, then a mixture of lessons like flower arrangement, or cutlery organization and—ugh spare me the agony of saying this—makeup and dressing lessons.

But, whatever. At least the first lesson was finally over. I could finally go back to my room and snuggle in my duvet—

“Oh, yes. Almost forgot.” Mrs. Meyer interrupted my thoughts. “School starts tomorrow. I have some new clothes already hung up in your closet, and there’s already one labelled First Day for tomorrow. Want you looking fresh and neat!” She looked more excited than I was. Well, not that I was excited.