Bauxtridge Preparatory

The expression on her face was unreadable as she took long, fast strides toward the formidable-looking Victorian building. If there was one thing she liked about England, it was the way all the buildings she ever saw practically oozed royalty– just like in the movies. She walked through the grounds of Bauxtridge Preparatory as though she had wings for legs– for the first time ever barely noticing the intricate patterns of the buildings she and Anna Leigh used to spend hours goggling over.

"Cris! Yo.. Cris. Wait up, girl!"

She came to a stop mid-stride, cringing as if in physical pain at her newest friend's attempt at an American accent. "Verily, verily, I say unto you, that accent will get you killed in Bronx."

"Oh, bugger off. I'll get there soon. And for the last time, we don't talk like that!" She gave a tinkly laugh and twirled on one foot. "What are you doing strutting about the yard like you own the place?" 

Although Cristal would never admit it, she was intimidated by her accent. She had always held British accents in high prestige. Tongue of the royals– a name she and Anna Leigh had coined in their adolescent years spent worshipping everything British. Neither talkshows in the shower nor newscasting in the mirror had prepared her for Bauxtridge. Most of her first week was spent goggling in awe at the speed at which girls in the hallways sputtered, and bolting to other side of school when someone approached her in a friendly manner. She made up for, and tried to hide her apprehension with a sharp tongue and a witty personality, determined to ignore the storm in her chest.

"Just my morning power walk," she tilted her head to the side. "The grounds were so gloomy I thought I'd brighten them up a little."

Lois suspected there was more to it than Cristal preferred to share but she pretended not to notice and gave her usual tinkly laugh. "That is surprisingly mature." Cristal snorted and straightened the pleats on her school skirt.

"Thanks, love. Since we're exchanging compliments, care to explain why you're stalking me?"

"Just for you, cherry marmalade. Just for you. We have Algebra in ten, try to be punctual."

"Okay thanks." Cristal watched as she spun deftly on one foot and walked away, taking all the happiness with her.

            * * * *  * * * *  * * * *

Boarding school had never been on Cristal O'Toole's bucket list, let alone an all girls' boarding school. She'd been at Bauxtridge a week and she still couldn't fathom why her parents shipped her all the way from California to Bauxtridge like a box of canned tomatoes. She had only completed her first year of high school in California, finally settling in after months of feeling like an outcast. When they broke the news to her, her parents had acted completely normal, gushing like they'd won a lottery. 

"Wait for it, wait for it...drumroll please," her mom had begun, smiling so hard it'd started to look forced. She remembered resisting the temptation to facepalm as her dad put his hand in a fist, using it as a mic. He imitated the sound of a drum with his lips, earning a laugh from Cristal as he finished with a flourish. "You're going to England, baby!" 

The thought of living without her parents in a strange new place– although that new place was the land of her dreams– was disheartening. But they'd already prepared her luggage and completed the necessary documents. She suspected there was more to it than her parents were saying; in all her fifteen years, she'd never seen them plan anything as quickly as they'd planned this. Her father was always too busy to plan anything, and her mom was... well let's just say she flirted with procrastination. A lot. Cristal wondered– not for the first time– if they'd been trying to get rid of her, but that seemed... unlikely. 

She yawned, instinctively pushing her glasses farther up her nose. "I wonder what Anna Leigh's been up to." She and Anna Leigh had known each other since diaper days– naturally as they were neighbors– but had only started bonding when they were both twelve, courtesy of a 'fessing night and a fierce love for jellybeans. They'd been best friends ever since. England had always been their dream. They were supposed to revel in this moment. Together. She gruntled, remembering the no-phones rule at Bauxtridge. "Great. Just... great. It just keeps getting better and b—" 

"O'Toole."

"Jesus! When did you get in here?" She shut her eyes tightly, and placed her hand on her chest. "They never taught you to knock?" Her eyes widened, as she thought about something, "How long... how long have you been standing there?"

Marie said nothing. She stood stiff and unmoving, her fingers rolled into the pleats of her skirt. 

Cristal felt the hairs on her neck begin to rise. She had been paired with Marie Stratford on her first day and per the school rules, partners had to share a room. As much as she'd tried striking conversation to lighten the mood, the girl had barely said two words to her. She cleared her throat, hoping to rouse Marie, but the girl continued to stare, as if in a trance, at a spot just behind Cristal's head as though something were about to fall on her. Cristal spun around like a struck match just to make sure.

"We have supper in fifteen minutes," Marie spoke slowly, enunciating every word like there was something stuck in her throat. "Try to be punctual," she spun on her heels and walked away. Slowly, carefully, as though the floor were made of glass.

"Okay! That wasn't weird?!" Cristal yelled after her just as she shut the door. "What is up with the girls here? This is like a live horror show." She laughed humorlessly, "thanks Mom and Dad. Thanks."

"Well I hope it's a Hogwarts supper this time," she laughed nervously, clutching her windbreaker to her chest.