Perilous Journey of the Much-Too-Spontaneous Girl Read Online Free

more level-headed these days, but sarcasm came so easily. Jacques liked a bit of her coquettish, spoiled rich girl side, but he could only take so much. Then again, she wondered why she was even concerned with what he did and didn’t like.
    “And now I must bid you lovely ladies farewell. You need to study, and I need sleep. It’s going to be a long week for us all.” Jacques crossed to her side and placed a kiss on her cheek before leaving. The other girls in the room fanned themselves and whispered giggles into each other’s ears.
    He was rather dashing. Marguerite couldn’t deny that.
    She spent most of that evening and all of the next day in her dingy room with Outil, going back and forth over the facts of the semester.
    “What is the fastest possible speed of an aerschooner?” Outil asked.
    “Cargo, passenger, or warship?” Marguerite asked.
    “Each, m’lady.”
    “It obviously depends on weight and design. The schooner is the fastest of the aerships because of its combination of sails, motors, and envelope, but a heavy load will slow even the sleekest of vessels. Whether that be passengers, goods, or guns.”
    Marguerite stared out the window at the golden spring weather. Other girls were congregated on the lawn with their books and papers. The scene pulled at her heart a bit. Outil, poring over the facts and figures, reminded her not to get bogged down in the details, but to give concise and complete answers. Marguerite, however, was preoccupied with memories of sitting in the grass with her friends, Claude and Vivienne, back in France.
    It had been several months, but the rot of guilt still ate at her gut when she thought about how her childhood friend Vivienne had died crossing the ocean with them.
    “You are tired and distracted.” Outil’s voice cut through the moment.
    “Yes, I am,” Marguerite replied.
    “Would you care to tell me what bothers you?”
    “I was just thinking of Vivienne.” Marguerite continued to stare out the window. “It’s strange. I don’t feel as bad about her death as I do about the way I treated her when she was alive.
    “I mean, I wish she were still here, of course. She would love the thought of a husband, a little farm, and babies crawling all over her. I can’t help but think that if I’d actually paid attention to her back at home, that she might not have suffered so much. She might still be alive.” Marguerite’s voice trailed off.
    “M’lady, at that time you did not yet understand many of the aspects of true friendship that you understand now. You were never required to sacrifice or to give much of yourself. Please forgive me for speaking more openly than is appropriate, but I do so to prevent you from punishing yourself for a situation that was beyond your control.”
    “That’s just the problem, Outil. I did have control. I could have paid more attention and been kinder, and then I might have seen what she was going through. I might have helped her sooner.” Marguerite stood from the end of her bed and shook out her hair. It hung loosely in long dark waves down her back. “Never mind. It’s done now. If I ever get the opportunity to make a friend again, I will just have to do a better job. Even if she is the most obnoxious girl on the planet, I will be a good friend.” She folded her arms and held her head high as her resolve sunk into her chest like a pebble to the bottom of a lake.
    “Now, would you fetch me some supper? I’m starved, and I don’t feel like dealing with those imbeciles in the dining hall.” She nodded toward the girls outside gathering their materials for dinner.
    Outil sighed an automaton sigh, shifted uncomfortably but answered dutifully, “Of course, m’lady,” and left the room.

Chapter Four

     
     
    Sunday was long and tedious. Marguerite’s brain kept jumping between test questions, and what her father was going to say when he arrived. She was starting to formulate a plan for getting her way with Jacques, but