by D. V. EEDEN
“Hey, there you are. I was wondering when you were going to turn up,” Miles says as I throw my gym bag over the bench, removing my hoodie and sweats. Every time I do this, Miles eyes never stray from my body, passion burning in the mauve colour of his eyes, taking in the black leotard I’m wearing today. He gives me a cheeky smile when I turn to face him, making me forget about today already.
We have sort-of been dating but haven’t gotten serious yet. He sometimes sneaks into my dorm room and we end up having a make-out session on my bed. He wasn’t at the academy when the whole shit show went down with his beloved stepsister and the dickheads. He’s been my rock in all of this, and if it weren’t for him or my two best friends, I would have ended my life right there and then.
His lips turn up into a grin. “I got you a little surprise,” he says, his arms crossed behind his back to hide whatever it is. I try and move around him to grab whatever he’s hiding, but I’m unsuccessful. Throwing his arms up in the air, holding what looks like tickets, I try to jump to reach them but it’s no use. Miles is a tall guy, just over six feet and I’m five feet nothing.
“Give me a kiss first,” he winks, bringing his lips closer to mine. I can smell the mix of sweat and cologne mixed in together from his practice earlier. I lean in closer to give Miles a kiss as he brings down his arms towards me, wrapping them around my tiny frame. I have to go on my tiptoes just to reach his lips, which makes him chuckle.
As soon as our lips meet, I’m in a trance, forgetting where I am or even why I am giving him the kiss in the first place. He feels like my safe zone. Whenever I am around him, he makes me feel like no one can hurt me. Eventually, Miles pulls away from my lips, and I let out a small involuntary whimper, missing the feel of his lips against mine already.
“I got us two tickets to go see a band called Nightfall at Stonewall Auditorium in a few weeks’ time,” he says, showing me the two tickets. I was never into rock music before, but since I have met Miles, he’s introduced me to some pretty awesome bands, and I have a newfound love for rock music.
My face lights up, giving him another peck on his soft lips. “I would love to go.”
I look at the dates on the tickets and it’s the weekend straight after Halloween, which means I can get dressed up, showing off my new makeover and I can’t wait.
Chapter Fourteen
Sipping my orange juice, I swing myself around on the stool. I’m seated at the breakfast bar in my father’s kitchen, gossiping with Sally as she fixes us both a fruit bowl. I’ve informed her all about my little run in with the Royals, how I’ve told Blaire and Maisie about my father, which Sally warns me to make sure my Father doesn’t find out.
Thankfully, he’s not home this weekend and is away on a business trip, so I don’t have to see him or hear about how disappointed he is in me. Sally joins me at the breakfast bar, sitting in the stool next to me, which is completely not allowed but it’s just us two and Mrs. Blossom in the house so we think we can get away with it. My father warned the staff not to get close to me, stating that because they are staff, we shouldn’t form any friendships. It’s frowned upon.
Well, fuck him. I’ll befriend who the hell I want.
Ms. Veronica and I have a lesson in an hour, and today she is bringing a whole new wardrobe for me as I should also dress as a lady.
“I swear to god, if she tries to put me in one of those matching skirt suits, I’ll scream,” I huff, furrowing my brows as Sally keeps laughing at me.
“Oh darling, you will look spiffing in one of those matching suits,” Sally jokes, putting on a posh accent and I can’t but help laugh along with her. Sally likes to joke about how prim and proper I’m becoming – well, being forced to become – and how I wouldn’t survive a normal life around here anymore.
Sally is as London as they come. She even has a bit of a cockney accent which is refreshing to hear, considering I’m around people who hardly move their upper lip when they speak. Sally seems to think that my slight South African accent sounds American or even better, Australian, and always forgets where I’m from.
We like to speak to each other in different accents sometimes, taking the piss out of each other for some banter. I mean, in this house it’s needed. It’s always so serious and Mrs. Blossom is always warning me to make sure I don’t miss behave when my father is around otherwise there could be consequences. I’m unsure as to what kind of consequences she’s talking about, but I take her warnings very seriously.
I clear the bowl of fruit that Sally prepared for me. It seems like the only time I really eat is around her. She doesn’t give me a lot of choice, always making me my favourite foods and sticking them in front of me. She really is an amazing cook and makes spag bowl that tastes like heaven.
“Miss Adelaide,” Mrs. Blossom calls through to the kitchen. I look at Sally, pouting my lips, knowing exactly what she’s here to tell me. Sally hides her laugh behind her hands, trying not to get in trouble.
“Ms. Veronica has arrived.”
Oh boy, here we go.
“Wish me luck,” I whisper to Sally as I leave the room, already dreading spending time with this woman. She reminds me of Effie Trinket from the Hunger Games films, so overbearing. I can’t wait to see her shocked face when she sees I’m wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt. Entering the drawing room, I find that it’s been turned into a wardrobe. There are racks everywhere with all types of clothing on the rails, in every colour imaginable. Ms. Veronica is perched on the grey sofa where she sat last time, pouring a cup of tea. Her eyes go wide, scanning my outfit in disdain.
“Oh Adelaide, such a pleasure to see you again.”
I perch my ass on the grey armchair facing Ms. Veronica, picking up my cup and saucer to take a sip of my tea. I sit in the position with my legs closed at the knee, slightly leaned on the side and back straight. When I pick up my teacup, I even let out my pinkie finger. Her brow goes up, and a smile creeps up on her face.
“I see you have been practicing,” she says, and I nod in response with a plastic grin on my face, not wanting to make conversation.
I take in her outfit, the baby blue matching skirt and blazer which was exactly the same as the pink one. A white frilly blouse that reminds me of a pirate’s costume and a little pearl broach on the lapel of her blazer. I bet she has that suit in all colours.
Who’s she trying to be? The fucking Queen?
I notice she’s put on some classical music in the background today, breaking any of the silence that occurs between us, which is often. We get started straight away, concentrating on my walking again. This time she puts a fucking book on my head because she says it will help me practice my posture.
I didn’t even think this shit was real. I oblige, doing as she says so that we can get this over and done with. I don’t want to prolong this any longer than I need to. I walk with the stupid book on my head with elegance, not dropping it once and I feel triumphed.
Take that, bitch. I can follow orders.
We practice the walking and sitting a little longer before we continue on to speech therapy. Apparently, I need to try and smile every time I speak, like a robot. This can’t be hard. Then she actually gets me to recite ‘The Rain In Spain’ rhyme a hundred times over until she’s happy with it. Ms. Veronica made it noticeably clear that her and my father want my accent to be completely gone in time for the Debutant Ball next year. How exciting. I roll my eyes.
Ms. Veronica picks out a few outfits for me to try on, because I need to find something to wear for an afternoon tea party that’s in a few weeks, before Christmas. My eyes go wide when she explains this to me, unawares, that I would have been expected to attend tea parties and pretend to be a robot in front of other people.
What the fuck has my life come to, seriously?
I try on a few pencil dresses and a matching skirt and blazer suit. Even cute little tea dresses with kitten heels. She also expresses that when a lady wears a dress, she needs to wear nude coloured stockings at all ti
mes.
This woman is as sexist as they come. I’m biting the inner side of my cheek, stopping myself from snapping at her. The anger fuels in the pit of my stomach as she gets me to walk, sit, drink tea, and even pick up a cucumber finger sandwich in this tight yellow pencil dress.
Hours later, after Ms. Veronica had to leave to attend another appointment, I get some time to myself. I run a bubble bath in the whirlpool bath, my aching muscles could do with the jets penetrating my skin. I’m also going to read a good book with a glass of gin and tonic.
Now this is luxury. Laying back in the bath, my hair tied up whilst by head rests on a bath pillow, I read the first book of the ‘Beholden To Balance’ series by Cilla Raven, loosing myself in the fantasy world I wish were mine, rather than this shitty life I have now.
I take little sips of my gin and tonic, constantly adding hot water to my bath to keep it hot. My skin turns into a prune but I don’t care. I’m definitely going to have a Netflix night tonight in my queen-sized bed. My phone pings on the side of the bath, and I pick it up, reading a text from Miles saying that he misses me. My heart flutters every time I see his name, wishing he were here with me, having a romantic evening.
He could be the one I lose my virginity to, but how do you know when you’re ready? We haven’t done anything sexual, but we have gotten pretty close.
I’ve expressed my feelings to him about how I want to wait for the right time, making sure I lose it to someone I love and trust, which he understood and agreed with. I know for a fact that Miles has slept with a few girls. Around the academy, he’s renowned for being a bit of a playboy, and the girls still swoon all over him. I don’t blame them, what with his angelic, gorgeous looks. Every time he smiles, I’m hypnotized.
I think I’m going to be doing a lot more for myself tonight than just watch Netflix.
The following day, I’m sitting in the conservatory for breakfast by myself and enjoying the view of the open landscape, the rose gardens on my right and the sound of the water trickling in the water fountain. Breathing in the fresh countryside air, I enjoy the peace and quiet, as I stuff myself with a full English breakfast. Yes, Sally made it for me, saying that I need to put some meat on my bones. I agree with her, I look like a walking corpse at the moment. My eyes are black from the lack of iron in my blood and my skin has gone so pale you’d never think I come from South Africa.
Seriously, I need to really sit and revaluate my life, and pull my finger out. I know what the Royals did to me was horrific and not a lot of people would let that go, but losing my mum was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
All I’m left with is the photo album of all our memories and that’s my whole life. When I feel lonely and depressed, all I want to do is sit on my bed looking at the pictures, remembering all the good times we had, and keeping her memory alive by doing what we both enjoyed.
I need to get back into surfing.
I wrap myself in my big fluffy cardigan, hiding my skin from the crisp October air while I drink the best nectar that humans have created- coffee. Every sip I take warms up my insides, counteracting the cold outside.
I really just want to get back to the Academy today and practice my dance routine with Miles. He didn’t go home this weekend, deciding he would rather stay behind because he didn’t want to put up with Ruby all weekend.
I don’t blame him. The stories he tells me about her are insane. She sounds like a spoiled brat, who clearly has daddy wrapped around her finger. No surprise there. Eventually, I go back to my room, and my bag is already packed by Mrs. Blossom even though I tell her I don’t mind doing it. She even put the box of my stuff next to my bag, so I don’t forget it this time. Mrs. Blossom comes across like an old grumpy woman sometimes, but I know she cares for me and wants what is best. She’s kind of like my grandmother when I’m here.
Steve picks me up in the Bentley at the front of the house, packing my bag and box in the boot whilst I slip into the back seat. Throughout the journey Steve doesn’t speak to me, which is abnormal as he normally asks me how the academy has been.
Looking at him through the rear-view mirror, I can see the vein in his neck pulsing, his face in a prominent frown. He’s clearly irritated by something. Sticking my earphones in, I listen to some of the bands that Miles thought that I would like. A lot of them are too heavy for me but there are a few that I like. Especially the band ‘Nightfall’ that we’re supposed to be seeing in a few weeks. I honestly can’t wait for another date with Miles, outside of the academy. We’ve both been so busy with work and assignments, we haven’t had the chance to go on another proper date outside of the castle walls.
More importantly, I’m feeling thrilled to spend a weekend with my girls. That’s when the new Adelaide Vaughn, or should I say Adelaide ‘Adams’, will emerge from the pits of hell. I keep trying to think of how to change it up a bit. Maybe I should cut my long locks and dye my hair bleach blonde? Maybe then no one will recognize me, and they’ll leave me alone. Now that would be a dream.
Unpacking my little box of treasures, I leave the photo album of my mum on my nightstand and pack away the scrap books into the drawer beneath my bed. I can’t wait to show the girls later. I get changed into my yoga pants and a pink sports bra, leaving my torso on show.
I look at myself in the mirror, and I’m disappointed with myself for letting it get this bad. The faint lines that were the start of my lean muscles have disappeared, and my ribcage is prominent from the lack of food and too much exercise. I would be incredibly surprised if Miles found me even remotely sexually attractive when I look this sluggish. I need to get my shit together and starting from today, I’m putting my foot down.
In my own world, strolling towards the dance studio with my earphones plugged in, a pair of strong hands grab me from behind, pulling me to the side and a small whimper escapes past my lips.
“What the fuck do you…” I start rumbling, turning round to see that it’s Royce.
He removes his hands from my shoulders, putting them into his trousers. He looks like a really posh twat that has gone sailing. Cream trousers, with a pale blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt, a cream coloured cardigan tied around his shoulders and bloody brown loafers.
His bottle green eyes darken as they rake over my body, clearly mortified by how I look. Good, I’m not here to impress this lying prick anyway.
Taking a step back, I cross my arms over my chest – which has gone down a size – lifting my chin up, hiding the fact that Royce’s presence affects me. I want this man to grovel and beg for forgiveness for what he did to me. I won’t forgive him or any of the other Royal cunts that walk this school.
Ever.
Rolling my eyes, I exhale. “What the fuck do you want, posh boy?”
Royce notices how agitated I am, and he rubs the back of his neck, his eyes falling to the floor before bringing them up to meet mine. He still has the sadness lying beneath the sea green colour, but this time they are darker, like the ocean has been polluted and turned black from all the lies and deceit. He leans forward, enclosing on my proximity.
“I haven’t had a chance to see you Ade, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
My eyes narrow at his declaration. “Oh, so suddenly you care about my feelings?” I scoff.
His hand comes up, grabbing my arm painfully, his eyes refusing to stray away from mine. “I had no choice… We had no choice, Ade.”
I pull myself out of his grip, completely outraged by his statement.
How dare he say that they, or him, had no fucking choice?
“No choice? Everyone has a choice. Now leave me the fuck alone.”
Turning on my heel, I walk away in the direction to the dance studio, my body shaking, unable to take these confrontations. I’m so angry that if I were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of my ears as my head blows up. These boys are going to be the death of me.
I enter the dance studio, looking around to see that Miles still hasn’t turned up. Hm, t
hat’s unusual as he’s normally here before me. I put down my belongings on the bench and start stretching all my limbs before I practice my routine.
I put on a playlist from Spotify and start off with ‘First position’. My heels touch, my toes are pointed forward and my arms rounded in front of me. I always mix ballet with modern dance, the elegance meeting with modernity has always been my style. It makes me feel free, like I can do what I want.
‘Haunted’ by Beyoncé starts playing whilst I lift myself onto the tip of my toes, performing pirouette en pointe. My toes ache from the weight of my body as I choose not to wear my ballet shoes, and I welcome the pain, torturing myself as I lift my body weight and leap across the room, twirling without my heels touching the floor. My breath quickens as I move around the hard wood floor, putting my body through the paces, sweat pouring out of my pores.
Some people fight with their bare hands to get their fill, but me? I bruise and batter my body by dancing, pushing myself to the point of feeling faint. The rush it gives me is addictive, like heroin for some people, but to me this is better. When I get onto the stage in a few weeks’ time, my pain will all be worth it.
Once I’ve had my fill and collapsed on the floor, I check my phone and find that there’s no missed message from Miles. It’s been two hours since I arrived, so I would have heard from Miles by now, but he hasn’t even acknowledged my text. I doubt that he would purposely stand me up, so possibly it’s a family emergency or something.
I secretly hope that’s the case in a weird way, so I know it’s not me.
Chapter Fifteen
Needing to replenish my energy, I’m sitting on my bed, legs crossed, eating a tuna sandwich. My gaze is fixed on watching the wind bristle between the oak and holly trees. The low winter sunlight beams through the double-glazed window, blanketing the whole room in yellowy, gold tones. As it’s such a lovely day, I debate whether or not to head to Stonewall Beach and go for a surf. The winter chill has never stopped me before.