The Princess and the Finch

Daisy was convinced her Grade Four teacher was a princess. The long skirts and the fine gold jewelry should have been evidence enough, and combined with her beautiful face, it seemed obvious. Miss Schofield also talked down to most people. Even Daisy's parents. It must be her royal training.

Daisy perched at her desk trying hard to listen to Miss Schofield’s lecture on fractions, but the Princess was only repeating stuff Daisy had learned before.

Outside, a summer storm was gathering momentum and slowly stealing Daisy's attention away from what was happening inside. Raindrops had begun to hit the windowpane, driven hard against the glass by the wind. They followed an erratic path downwards, like serpents. They sneaked up on other unsuspecting raindrops, pounced on them and then consumed them before continuing their descent.

The trees outside swayed and danced, and even here inside the classroom Daisy could hear the sound of the leaves rustling as the wind caressed them. It was a lullaby for the swallows, finches and willie wagtails who sheltered inside the foliage of a paper-bark tree. Daisy could see herself sitting there with them, her head and her feet pulled close to her feathered body for warmth, lulled into a trance by the sighing wind and the-

“Daisy! Are you in there? Earth to Daisy!” Miss Schofield snapped her fingers impatiently.

Daisy was jolted from her daydream and she shrank under her teacher’s irritated glare. She felt the expectant stares of her sixteen classmates, as she desperately tried to figure out what the Princess had asked her while she was distracted. She shifted nervously in the seat of her old wooden desk. A couple of children snickered softly. Miss Schofield’s disapproving brown eyes flicked towards them briefly, but she didn’t reprimand them. She returned her intimidating gaze to Daisy. “Well? Were you listening?” Miss Schofield raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Daisy’s heart pounded as she admitted “No, Miss Schofield. I’m sorry.” Her voice shook a little, much to her dismay.

Miss Schofield sighed dramatically, looking to the heavens. “I asked you, what is half of a quarter?” She repeated, tapping her chalk on the blackboard behind her, where she had written the equation.

Daisy almost sighed with relief. At least she could get that right. “One-eighth, Miss Schofield.”

“Correct. Now sit up straight! If you drift off again you’ll be spending your lunchtime in the classroom.”

Daisy’s shoulders wanted to curl around her, but she forced them back, sat up straight and tried to pay attention. She always tried to be good. A princess deserved the proper respect, after all.

Finally, Miss Schofield passed out a worksheet, and Daisy tackled the problems eagerly while her classmates worked mostly silently around her. One of the boys tended to mutter to himself, as he was working things out, and one girl tapped her pen absently on her desk. Daisy almost got lost in those sounds, putting them to music in her mind, but she caught herself. She was intent on solving each problem correctly, so she wrestled her focus back to the page.

The worksheet took her a little longer than some, but when she was done, she proudly joined the line of students beside Miss Schofield's desk, waiting for their papers to be marked.

As she waited, Daisy looked out the window again, and watched the wind bully the trees. It tore at their leaves and twigs, and threatened to break limbs, but the trees had anchored themselves deep in the earth and they stood tall and proud against their antagonist.

When it was her turn, Daisy handed her worksheet to Miss Schofield, confident she had done well. She watched as Miss Schofield checked off each answer with a flick of her green pen. Not many people used green ink. Daisy sometimes wondered if it was the colour of Miss Schofield's royal house crest. Then there was the heavy gold bangle that clanked and dragged on the desk with each abrupt stroke of the pen. Daisy was convinced it was a crown that Miss Schofield had shrunk down and now wore on her wrist, so she wouldn't give away her royal status.

Daisy smiled, seeing that she had gotten every question right, but her smile faltered when she saw the stormy look on Miss Schofield's pretty face as she looked up.

Daisy tried to sink her feet into the floor, so she could be as steadfast as the trees. But she was much to small to be a tree. She was barely a sapling.

Miss Schofield's blunt bob cut swung to the side as she tilted her head questioningly. "How did you get all these answers when you weren't listening to a word I said? Did you copy from Gemma?" 

Daisy's throat tightened in panic. "No!" She squawked, a little embarrassed by the sound of it. She was in her bird form again, and wanted nothing more than to nestle into the safe and sheltering embrace of her tree.

All eyes were on Daisy, and her heart began to pound as her face heated. Gemma had been sitting at the desk beside her, but Daisy hadn't even glanced at anyone else's work. She had enjoyed solving the problems herself.

Miss Schofield narrowed her eyes. "Stand here," she said, pointing to a spot at the front of her desk. She was clearly used to giving orders. When Daisy had moved, the Princess looked down the line of children to where Gemma was standing, with three more children in the line before her. Gemma had obviously finished long after Daisy, which clearly meant that Daisy couldn't have copied all her answers, but Miss Schofield didn't seem interested in that logic. She beckoned Gemma with a crooked finger. Seeing the gesture, Daisy suddenly wondered if Miss Schofield was not, in fact, a royal, but actually a sorceress. Gemma moved forward as though her limbs had been compelled, and she shot Daisy a sympathetic glance.

Miss Schofield snatched Gemma's worksheet from her hand and examined it, checking off the answers, and Daisy was relieved to see that Gemma had a couple of them wrong.

Miss Schofield looked perplexed. "All right. How you did it is a mystery, but I accept that you did it," she conceded and then handed Daisy's paper back to her. Then her tone dropped again to a scolding, "Now go and put your name on it before I make you do another one at lunchtime."

Daisy squared her shoulders. "Yes, Your Highness," she replied, and then froze as she realised her mistake. She hadn't meant to reveal the Princess' secret.

The children with earshot giggled, and some relayed what Daisy had said further down the line.

Miss Schofield's fine eyebrows shot up and her fair skin turned almost purple, but her tone was ominously calm as she spoke. "For that, Daisy, you have finally earned yourself another lunchtime detention, and I will be speaking with your parents this afternoon. Now go back to your desk and stick your paper in your workbook. I don't want to look at you or hear another word from you for at least the next fifteen minutes."

Eyes downcast, trembling a little, Daisy did as she was asked. She was counting her lucky stars that Miss Schofield had chosen to give her a detention, rather than turning her into a toad.