"Why are you doing this, Jennifer?" I cried. Sheslapped my face. "Mistress Jennifer is my name--and don't forgetit again!" she snapped. "Now be quiet...and let Mistress Margarettransform you." A short while later, my head was under the faucetof the sink, as Mistress Margaret scrubbed my mousy brown hairwith a sweet smelling shampoo. Next she rinsed a conditionerthrough it...or so she said. As I sat in the chair waiting forthe conditioner to work, I must have dozed off again. I wasawakened by. The eighteen year old senior at Saint Michael’s Academy was friendly to one and all, even the bullies that liked to give the weak ones or the new students a hard time just to show them who was boss.She was a pretty girl, a lot prettier than most with an hourglass figure that made the middle-aged male teachers drool and dream of violating the cardinal rule of never becoming overly friendly with a student under their control.Angela didn’t have any sisters or brothers and her father was so busy at. More

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