Mary Alice, or Alice, as she prefered, sat idly by her bedroom window, staring that the scene before her. It was a late 1864 summer afternoon, hazy and humid, and there was not much to do around the big plantation where she lived. She sighed and started counting the little dragonflies that zipped by her window. It was extremely childish, but there was not much else to do.

"Alice?" One of the plantation slaves came to her door. "Your mother wants to see you."

"Thank you, Sallie Mae. Tell her I'll be there shortly," she responded, and the woman gave a quick nod and was out her door. I wonder what mother wants now, she thought. To say that the relationship between her mother and her was strained was an understatement. Her mother strived for perfection in every way, and seemed to achieve it in all matter except her only daughter. Everything about Mary Alice dissatisfied her. 'Your posture, Alice, watch your posture. My, if you keep this up you'll be hunchbacked in no time,' she criticized just the other day. If she doesn't like who I am, then... I don't know what she's going to do. Because I'm not changing, for her, or for anyone, she determined. She decided to take a quick look at her reflection in the looking glass anyway. Her shoulder length hair had frizzed from the noonday humidity, and there were rims under her eyes from the hot, restless nights spent swatting at mosquitos. Her once baby-blue floor length dress was splatterred in mud when she had returned from her garden before breakfast. Mother would not be happy, she remarked, discontented. Might as well get it over with, and with that final thought, she headed towards the parlor to face her mother.

"Mary Alice Brandon what on earth have you done to yourself?" her mother exclaimed upon her entrance into the room.

"I apologize, mother, but you know the weather has been so hot and humid, and the nights so sticky-"

"I'm well aware, Mary Alice, I've been going through the exact same weather and yet look at me." She faced her mother's scowling face and saw the fact that although the weather was terrible, she looked flawless.

"But... you called me on such short notice that I wasn't able to get ready," she pointed out, feeling like her mother was treating her unjustly.

"Mary Alice, dear, you know that once you have your own household to take care of you'll be recieving guests on such short notice, and such unacceptable appearances is out of the question," her mother stated.

"Mama, you know that I don't have to think about that until much later. I'm only 15."

"I was 16 when I married your father. You should be thinking about it, and stop spending so much time outside. Look at your skin! As tan as those slaves!" she said, lamenting. Alice tensed. She didn't like when her mother refered to the servants as 'those slaves'. Everyone in the household knew that Alice was severly opposed to slavery. "Mama, you know I don't like that."

"Oh stop, Mary Alice. This is about you. We'll discuss your other nonsensical notions later," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Anyway," Alice said, trying to take the focus off of her. "You called me here to..."

"Oh yes. Your father says we'll be quartering soldiers from here on out."

"Quartering soldiers? Why?" she asked, bewildered.

" Don't ask me. I don't want this as much as you do. It's all your father," she added, then sighed. They both had an awkward silence for a moment, Alice thinking about her father, general Isaac Brandon, and her mother thinking about what those disgusting soldiers might do to her precious dining room.

"Mary Alice, don't just stand there. Get into some proper dinner clothes before your father comes home with all those ragamuffins," she said, spitting out the last of the sentence.

"Of course," she said, quietly, and back headed upstairs to change.

Hope you like it! :)