Nessa, Nessa, Nessa!

My dearest Millicent,  Nessa! Nessa! Apple of the teacher’s eye. That worthless orphan they scrounged up from the gutter. Does she actually believe herself my better? “Maestro Ovate, I know this! Let me perform the ritual!” Well of course you do, you witless, friendless wretch! Alone with your books in the woods and hollows with only the critters for comfort. I bared my teeth at her today. Let the wriggling pup tremble in fear. -Millicent Taylor