clare_dragonfly: A red rose laying on an open book, text: read a book (Reading: read a book)
[personal profile] clare_dragonfly
It was the night before the term was to begin before I finally began to hear voices in the hall. They all seemed to arrive at once, chattering girls' voices sliding past my door, accompanied by the tap-tap of patent shoes and the scrape of heavy luggage being dragged.

I pulled the door ajar and peeked out to see them, all dressed in the same nondescript khaki-and-white uniform as I was, though theirs were in better shape and some may have been tailored. They ran up and down the hall, helping each other with their luggage, opening and closing doors. They must have all arrived at once. This was no coincidence. I was the only one who had reached the school early, accompanied by my parents, because I could not make my own arrangements with Father Housman without their support.

Three days alone had been just enough time to get used to the creaky, old wooden building. Now I would have to get used to it filled with dozens of other girls.

In the time I'd stood in the doorway staring at them, they'd had time to take notice of me. There were stares and whispers. I couldn't be surprised. I was something new, something strange.

A girl stopped, dropping her trunk with a thump in front of the door next to mine. She stared openly at me, a wide smile--there was something hungry, predatory, about it--spreading across her face. "You're the new scholarship girl, aren't you?"

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clare_dragonfly: woman with green feathery wings, text: stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories (Default)
Clare-Dragonfly

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