She pulls Beatrice into Dead Lorraine’s room, and I scramble over the window ledge and slide to the floor. We crouch below the sill. The Elephant’s footsteps get louder and then softer as she moves in the direction of the abandoned fight. I bite my lip to stop from giggling. I imagine her wig jiggling as she swings her gaze right to left and sees nothing but a squashed grass doll.

“Stop,” Lottie whispers, and glares at me. “She’ll hear.”

Beatrice presses her hands to her mouth to hold in a laugh, and I do the same. Lottie rolls her eyes and zips her lips. She’s good at holding still and breathing slow. Beatrice and I are amateurs. We can barely control ourselves. We can’t stand the tension.

“Who’s there?” Matron snaps. “Come out where I can see you.”

We keep still and wait. The Elephant won’t enter the Christ-thorns. She’s too large to weave through the tall stems without getting pricked by the spikes that are meant to keep the boys away from the girls. Seconds pass, but they slow to minutes. She’s out there listening for clues to our location. I keep my hand plastered over my mouth until Matron’s footsteps fade and disappear. Then I collapse onto the floor and laugh till my sides hurt. Beatrice rolls on the floor with me, and we squeal and kick our feet in the air.

It feels good to laugh and forget about being dropped by the pretty girls. Lottie shakes her head at our hysterics but manages a little smile.

If I’d known what was coming, I would have stayed on the floor and laughed a lot harder and longer.

• • •

We pass the Wednesday afternoon inspection with a “Well done, girls,” thanks to Lottie’s talent for scrubbing floors and washing windows. It’s obvious she doesn’t have a maid at home to do her cleaning. Delia told me last year that Lottie and her mother live in a hut, which is really one big room with a dug-out fireplace in the middle and two cots on either side of it. I’ve never been in a native hut. Delia also says the native huts stink of sweat and smoke, though I don’t think Delia’s been inside one either.

“Keep up the good work.” Mrs. Thomas ticks our names off her list and goes to the next room to search for dust under the cots and dirt in the corners. When she’s finished, she’ll hand out punishments to the girls who’ve failed. The top girls don’t care if they pass or fail. They get their pets to do the sweeping and scrubbing, and if Mrs. Thomas gives the top girls a punishment, they get their pets to do that as well. I miss having pets. Cleaning is hard work, even with Lottie’s help.