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Within the Walls of Kingsbury Prep

Page 3

by Grace Davies


  “Girl, look at you. You look like one of us,” the girls crowd round me taking in my appearance.

  “Let’s get this show on the road and pray I don’t get into trouble.” I silently pray.

  “Oh babe, I don’t think you know how to stay out of trouble,” Angelica laughs.

  “Oh whatever,” I give her a playful shove as we make our way out of the dorm and down to breakfast.

  I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn around to see Harley. “You look really nice Millie,” she gives me a shy smile.

  “So do you, I love you hair.” She raises her hand and runs it through her hair looking at the ground.

  “Come on, best not be late,” I wrap my arm around hers and drag her along the corridor.

  Harley giggles as we make our way to breakfast. She’s shy but super sweet, I hope over time she comes out of her shell more. I know what it is like though, struggling to warm up to people, to trust them. My confident persona is just a facade, deep down I’m a scared little girl with tonnes of trust issues. No one knows that though, nor do they need to. I feel like my mum can see through my act but as long as everyone else is fooled, I’ll be safe.

  ***

  Breakfast was amazing, but then again, I knew it would be now my mum is the new cook. We had a lot of fun at too, everyone sits with their roommates but Teddy snuck over for a while for a chat. I feel so bad for him after what happened yesterday with Charity. Her name is so ironic, I bet she’s never even heard of a charity let alone donated any of her ‘hard earned money’ to one. Breakfast really was great though; I make a mental note to go visit my mum later and check how she’s doing.

  We‘re currently heading to our first class when I hear my name being called from someone behind me.

  “Miss Anders.” Professor Montgomery, great.

  “Yes Sir,” I turn to smile at him. Come on Millie, best behaviour.

  “It appears there seems to be an issue with your uniform.” He looks at me pointedly.

  “My uniform Sir? I’m wearing everything that was left for me in my wardrobe.” Here we go.

  “Yes, that skirt is far too short. See our skirts are designed to be knee length, resting nicely on the knee where yours is,” his eyes move down my body to the hem of my skirt.

  “Mine is?” I prompt him, willing him to turn his attention away from my skirt.

  “Yours only reaches mid-thigh on you. It must be altered, can’t have girls walking around in short skirts this is a school after all.” Keep your cool Millie, abide by the rules no matter how stupid and sexist they are.

  “Sir with all due respect this skirt is not too short. Just because I am not skinny like most of the girls here and have significantly larger thighs than most does not mean I should have to alter my skirt. I don’t really see what the problem is anyway.”

  “Well, it is distracting.”

  “Distracting to who Sir? To you?” His eyes flick back down to my skirt then quickly to my chest before meeting my eyes once again.

  “Well yes, it is a little distracting to me.”

  “But Sir isn’t the problem that you can’t be trusted to control yourself or your thoughts around a girl whose skirt is slightly higher than most and not that my skirt is ‘too short’.” I use air quotes to stress my point. If this man thinks he’s going to make this my fault, he has another thing coming.

  I hear a few gasps coming from the girls behind me. I can guarantee they’re all praying I don’t go too far with this.

  “Might I remind you who you are talking to Miss Anders. Here’s what you will do, you will get a bigger sized skirt from reception so we won’t have to have this little talk again, okay?”

  “No Sir it’s not okay. I don’t need a bigger size. This skirt fits me perfectly on my waist, if I get a bigger size it will be way too big for me.”

  “Yes, but it will be knee length. So, you will go to reception and get yourself a bigger skirt, understand?” He takes a step closer towards me with each word until he is only an inch away, towering over me with his large frame and rank musty aftershave.

  “Yes Sir, I will get one today and be sure to wear an appropriate length skirt tomorrow.” I fake smile.

  He looks me dead in the eye, a victorious smirk itching to reveal itself. ‘”Good day Miss Anders,” he looks me up and down one last time before walking off in the opposite direction.

  I ball my fists, breathing in and out deeply trying to contain my anger. As if sensing what I’m trying to do Lola rushes over to me, followed by Teddy, Angelica, Georgina and Harley.

  “You handled that so well Millie, I’m so proud of you,” Lola beams.

  “You were so right when you said he was the problem for being unable to control himself.”

  “Mhmm that you were.”

  “Don’t worry girl, I’ve had the exact thing happen to me.” Angelica places her hand comfortingly on my shoulder. I look at her skirt which rests at knee level despite her curves.

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I got a new skirt, which of course was too big so I had to pin it just to get it to stop falling down. Anything is better than another conversation like that, even if it means getting teased for having to have a skirt specially made because your original skirt was already the biggest size they had.”

  I wrap my arms around her and give her a squeeze. “Babe it sucks in this world. Men thinking they can dictate how we dress. Everyone saying you have to be stick figure skinny to get anywhere in life. It a load of bullshit, everyone is beautiful, especially you.”

  “I don’t have time to cry, we gotta get to English” Angelica wipes the rogue tears from under her eyes. “You’re a special one.” She boops me on the nose and I let out a small chuckle.

  “Come on guys, we’re gonna be late,” Teddy shouts from halfway down the hall.

  “Coming,” we shout back chasing after them.

  Despite all the horrible people here at least I have my girls and Teddy. Oh heck, Teddy is one of the girls too.

  Chapter Six

  The tranquillity of A tree

  “Welcome class, I am Professor Sharma and I will be your English teacher for your first year here at Kingsbury Prep.” Professor Sharma looks like your typical nice teacher, with dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, hooded eyes partially hidden by circular glasses and a kind face with prominent rosy cheeks.

  “As a little warm up activity, I will go around the room and ask everyone what their all-time favourite book is, starting with Miss Anders.” She smiles at me encouragingly.

  “My all-time favourite has to be Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.”

  “Care to explain why?”

  “I just love the characters of Cathy and Heathcliff and how their personalities are mirrored by the setting. The wildness of the moors correlates perfectly with the wildness of not only their characters but also their relationship with each other. It is ultimately the wildness and unpredictability of the relationship that causes many of the characters demise in the novel, including their own.”

  I hear a snicker coming from the direction of Charity and Roman’s table. They make a lovely couple. Can you sense the sarcasm?

  “What an excellent point Millicent, really insightful.”

  “You can call me Millie,” I smile at her.

  “You can call me Millie,” Charity mimics.

  “Miss Drinckall, you seem to be particularly chatty today. Why don’t you go next?”

  “Of course, Professor Sharma,” she glares at me. “My absolute fave book ever is Jane Austen by Emily Brontë.”

  I bite my lip suppressing my urge to laugh. This girl can’t be serious. I glance over to Lola shaking my head, she rolls her eyes in return.

  “I don’t think I know that one,” Professor Sharma holds her fist to her lip in an attempt to cover her simile.

  I raise my hand, “I think Charity means Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, Professor.”

  “Shut it teacher’s pet, I know wh
at I meant. It’s Jane Austen, Jane Eyre is an author. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “You’re doing a good job of displaying how stupid you are right now,” I mutter.

  “Right, that’s it. You think you can come in here and take over, well you can’t. You’re only here because your mum is the new chef, a chef and your dad, well you don’t have one do you he must’ve left when he found out how pathetic you and your mother were. Bet he couldn’t get away quick enough. Me however, I have two very successful parents and money, yep lots of it. I didn’t grow up in a tiny flat scrounging for books wherever because I couldn’t afford them. I haven’t only just started my education at fifteen, like please how depressing can you be.”

  I jump up immediately from the table and storm over to her desk. “Don’t you ever talk about my mum like that again, you hear me bitch? Yes, I didn’t have a dad nor did I ever have much money but my mum looked after me best she could and you know what? You can’t buy a nice personality, unfortunately for you. I have gone without many things in my life but my mother taught me how to be kind to others and treat people with respect. You might wanna get daddy to buy you a new personality, preferably one not from Bitches R Us.” I give her a death glare and quickly turn on my heels.

  I feel a bony hand reach out grabbing my hair, yanking my head back towards the table. My lower back crashes into the table filling me with not only pain but an overload of anger. I reach out and pull a handful of her tacky ass extensions from her head and throw them on the floor.

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” she shouts jumping across the table, her body colliding with mine. I hear Professor Sharma demanding us to stop but no one could stop me now, I’m far too angry. She pushes me to the ground and wraps her fist in my hair proceeding to slam my head multiple times against the ground. My vision starts to go blurry and there’s a ringing in my ears but I don’t give up. I slap her so hard it actually puts some colour into her ghostly pale skin. She claws at me with her manicured talons leaving deep scratches on my arms, bringing blood to the surface. I’m about to reach up slap her again when Teddy and Georgina pull Charity off me and drag her outside.

  “I’m gonna kill you bitch,” she yells before Lola slams the door in her face.

  I force my breathing to return to its normal pace and stand up. Everyone’s faces are an image of shock, all except Roman who is stood there staring at me intently, an odd look on his face.

  “What are you looking at? You wanna go next?” I get in his face.

  Angelica places a hand on my shoulder. “Babe, let’s go. You need to calm down.”

  I whisper an apology to Professor Sharma and allow myself to be taken into the corridor by Angelica.

  ***

  The rest of the day goes pretty smoothly and by that, I mean I don’t get into any more fights. I do have to cope with the whisperings and the twisted versions of what happened though but people are always going to talk. I am surprised however that no one comes to discipline me or even talk to me about it. Thank you, Professor Sharma. I’m currently sat in bed reading over my Contemporary Abstract Algebra textbook to pass the time before I can go and see my mum, I really need to see her. I sigh, tossing the textbook down the bottom of my bed. I’m so bored and I have another hour to wait. All the girls are busy: Angelica is at debate club, Lola and Georgina at football practice and Harley is in the library studying. Screw this, I’m going to go exploring. I change out of my uniform and into a pair of black leggings and an oversized jumper. Throwing my hair in a high pony and grabbing my glasses, I leave my dorm and take off down the corridor.

  I wander around aimlessly for about 10 minutes before I find myself outside. I follow the stretch of bright green grass until I’m far enough away from the school that no one can bother me. I stumble across a large oak tree: spindly branches covered in a mix of green and browning leaves, a thick trunk with deep gaps, wide enough to create yourself a nook of tranquillity away from everyone and everything. I sit at the root of the tree and lean my head against the trunk. Closing my eyes, I focus on the light twittering of birds, the soft breeze gently weaving its way through the branches. I finally feel at peace for the first time since I got here. I sit in peace letting the time pass till my phone beeps telling me it’s time to go see my mum. I take one last look at the tree, making a mental reminder to come back whenever things get too much and take off to go and meet my mum.

  I’m not strictly allowed in the kitchens but as long as I’m not caught, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I find the back entrance used for deliveries and make my way down the spiral staircase. As I reach the bottom, I hear my mum’s voice arguing with a man. Not any man: Foundry.

  “I gave you this job so you could provide for your daughter and give her the education she’s been so desperately wanting all her life. Now I’m thinking that was a stupid mistake.”

  “Brian, no. I can work harder I promise. I can do more hours in the kitchen, I can cater any private party you have. Please, I can’t lose this job.”

  “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about your irritable child who clearly has anger issues seen as she’s only been here a day and a half and she’s already been involved in three arguments and a physical fight. I put it down to bad parenting.”

  “Bad parenting,” my mother scoffs. “Are you forgetting-” The rest gets cut off as a series of pots clatter to the floor. I want to go save mum, defend her but I know if I’m caught down here, I’ll be in even more trouble than I already am.

  “Just make sure she keeps herself in line from now on, I don’t want to be having any more of these conversations. Especially not with you, Mallory.”

  I hear loud footsteps and watch Foundry’s shadow grow as he walks closer and closer to me. I quickly hide behind the corner and watch him up the stairs. I take a second to compose myself before turning the corner and making my way to my mum.

  “Hey Mum,” I smile not letting on what I’ve heard. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Her eyes are red and blotchy. “It’s only been a day sweetheart.”

  “I know I’m just used to seeing you all the time that’s all. Are you okay?”

  “Oh me, I’m fine. Just been chopping some onions for tonight’s meal.” I know she’s lying but I decide to let it go. “I hear you’ve been getting yourself into a bit of trouble missy.”

  “I’m so sorry mum I’ve tried to keep my cool but people keep testing me and it’s not my fault, in all those situations I was standing up for what I believe in and calling out people for their awful behaviours. I’m the good person here.”

  “I know you are sweetie. I don’t approve of you getting into a fight on your first proper day but I do support you fully as long as you’re doing it for a good reason. Just try for me, try to rise above it.”

  “I promise I’ll try mum. I knew you’d be able to cheer me up.”

  “Now tell me about everything else that’s happened so far.”

  Chapter Seven

  The compromised ankle of a dancer

  The other night with mum was really helpful. I told her everything. I told her all about my run-ins with Roman and Charity, to which she reminded me that sometimes the meanest people are the ones with the biggest secrets and that we never know what other are going through. I told her how I’ve been enjoying my classes so far and all about my amazing new friends. I know she has her own problems going on but she always puts them aside to make sure I’m happy. I really admire that about her. I do wish she wouldn’t keep everything she’s feeling inside, I know she thinks she’s protecting me but I do worry about her. As much as I want to be happy, I want her to be happy too. I hope things get easier for her however unlikely that is being employed by Brian Foundry.

  These past few days I’ve tried my best to ignore all the whisperings and the death glares and focus on my education: the sole reason why I’m here in the first place. It was difficult when Charles Preston, Lola’s brother and Roman’s little lap dog, decided
to trip me in the lunch queue, my lasagne covering me head to toe. It was difficult when Charity spread rumours about me and why my dad supposedly left me, as well as ‘recreating’ our fight with her evil sidekick Lucy Pepperton. It was difficult dealing with Roman’s smug face whenever I got a question wrong in class and his snickers whenever I got one right, you know me ‘teacher’s pet’. But despite all that I’ve tried to enjoy the past few days as much as I can. I’ve had a mix of lessons and a rather unusual mix of teachers.

  Professor Winthrop, Science, a bony woman with a crooked nose and beady little eyes. Her thin hair always in a grey streaked bun on top of her head, small framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. She’s always dressed in long dark skirts and old knit cardigans. She has the voice of someone who has smoked since birth, the death glare of a predator and the kindness of Lord Voldemort, so none.

  My French teacher, Professor Delannoy is a petite blonde with kind eyes and a caring smile. She is as lovely as she looks though she will not hesitate to give you a detention for the slightest of disruptions.

  Professor Hawthorne who teaches History of Western Philosophy has large glasses, slight stubble on his chin and rather messy brown hair. He wears a different vest every day to match whatever we’re learning about, it’s adorable. He knows how to make a seemingly boring subject fun and entertaining and I love that about him.

  And of course, we all know Professor Montgomery. Can you sense the eye roll? I didn’t think I’d enjoy Math that much to begin with but it’s even worse having him as a teacher. He spends most of the lesson lecturing us rather than actually teaching us and he’s one of those who puts his arm round the back of your chair when you ask for help. He’s just plain creepy.

  Today is Friday, by the end of today I will have officially completed my first week at Kingsbury Prep. I’ve been excited for today all week because it’s my first Dance lesson and I have a chance to redeem myself with Professor Sharma in English this afternoon. Today is the first day that I have been awake and dressed before the girls. They were shocked when they came to drag me out of bed and I was sat there fully dressed reading my Dance History: An Introduction textbook.

 

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