Brookefield Towers

1

A click sounded as I twisted the key in the lock, unlocking my locker, for I needed books for the next class, right after break.

Suddenly a rowdy group of boys passed behind me, catcalling me for some nasty reason. I turned around and saw that Louis was there.

''Louis,'' I said to him, beckoning with my hand. He stepped out of the group and stood beside me, a piteous look on his face, ''What's up, dear?'' He shot a glance at his friends, chuckled, then looked down at me again, for he was tall and I was short.

I contracted my eyebrows, ''You shouldn't be hanging out with such unruly boys as them! I thought you had ''high values'' and ''pleasing manners'' or were you telling a fib when you told me that?'' I said, with a cool tone and firm voice.

He frowned a little, then his face lit up again as he chuckled, ''Oh my sweet dear, isn't a man allowed to fool around once in a while? After all the work he's done?'' He looked at me, eyes full of wonder. 

Dreamy, hazel brown eyes.

My face relaxed, ''It's not that you're not allowed to do that, but just pick the people you ''fool around'' with, can you? I despise those rough hoodlums of a boy and I rather admire you when you act high, classy, proud and gentle, so stay that way.'' 

He nodded, he was always my obedient boy, even though he had grown up into a striking man, he will always be my boy. I nodded too, ''Good, now, go off!'' I said, slapping his arm in a good-natured attitude, as if slapping a horse's arse and willing it to go.

He nodded, his smooth hair going up and down along with his movements, and gave me a gentle peck on the cheek before running off to his class, for the bell had rung loudly.

''Don't kiss me in public!'' I yelled after him, and he waved his hand in assent, going off fast with his friends.

That boy will never grow up, I thought, he'll always stay and act like a boy, even in his 60s, I daresay

But I'm lucky to have someone like him to love me at Brookefield Towers, one of the best schools in England, which was rather rough in its ways, but rather grand and fine too.

I know you all must be wondering how I met him, and so I'll satisfy your wants by..

Mum and Father wove me off, as they went away in our dainty, little blue car, a perfect form of transport for a small family of four like us.

I stood waving wildly at them, trying hard not to cry, for I had promised Father that I was to be a sensible girl and not cry over such petty things as going to a boarding school, alone, for the first time.

I sniffed and turned my mind over to a more crucial matter: finding an empty cart in the long train full of boys and girls spanning from the young age of eleven to the more mature age of seventeen.

I took a deep breath and moved on to the sore task of dragging my trunk behind me as long as it needed to find an empty compartment on the three-fourths full train.

I carefully lifted my trunk when I came to the space between the train and the platform. I pulled and heaved as I hauled the heavy trunk behind me, gasping for air in the breaks between.

Suddenly, a boy, a boy my age, flew in through the red doors, and there I saw a fine boy.

His aristocratically sharp nose matched his oval, almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were a hazel brown, and his lips were a cherry-red and thin.

His hair was a brownish blonde and untidy, for it seemed as if it had been rumpled up by many strong hands.

He effortlessly dragged the trunk behind me, without gasping for air every once in a while like I did, and whistled a happy tune. He seemed like a second year, for he handled everything with a smile on his tanned yet pale face, and faced everything else with a happy tune flowing out from his lips.

He peeked in a few compartments until finally he found one that was empty. Then he pushed open the door with sturdy hands, which had long fingers, like mine, then smoothly slid his heavy trunk in the trunk right above the seats.

He whistled as he clapped his hands of dust, then he turned around and went out, to say goodbye to his family, I thought.

But no, I was wrong, he was just observing the strangers who were soon to be his friends, and he did so, still whistling and his eyebrows knitted in concentration, his eyes narrowed.

He spotted me, struggling with my trunk, very much out of the way, for I bumped every once in a while and mumbled sorry with a hint of pink in my cheeks.

He jolly well made his way to me, and I stopped staring at once. I hoped he didn't sawe me when I kept looking at him, admiring him.

It turns out he didn't for he stuck his hand out in a amicable way then said, with a voice thick with accent and gentle and warm, making the listeners feel as if they're being hugged by a big, brown bear, ''Hello, I'm Louis, what's your name?'' 

I faced him, ''Hi there, Louis, I'm Chloe Rivers, nice to meet you and are you French?'' That was the first question that popped into my mind for when I first heard his words, they was plenty accent in it. He replied, ''Why, yes I am, however did you find out?'' His expression was set to one of surprise.

I laughed and shook his outstretched hand, then stopped to respond, ''Your accent is a French one, and my Mother is French, yet my Father is English, so I do know some French and am half-French, half-English.'' He replied happily, ''Well, isn't that just good luck! This is my first time in Brookefield towers, and I've found a Frenchie already, well, do you need help, Maidemoiselle?'' 

I giggled, ''Sure, if you are willing to do so, Monsieur. I've made up my mind to be friends with you, for you are such a dear, and I hope you'd like to be friends with me too,'' He nodded rapidly, ''Of course! I'm so lucky, so lucky indeed, to make friends with a French girl like you, well, half-French, at that, but all the same!''

I nodded then proceeded to stay silent as we went to his compartment. When we entered, I politely asked, ''Oh well, Louis, will you very well mind me sitting here? I haven't got any friends who'll go to Brookefield Towers, they rather prefer Malory Towers and Hogwarts and I haven't found an empty compartment where I can sit myself in too! I would be delighted to accompany you all along the way to Brookefield!''

Louis replied readily, ''Why, of course you can sit with me! It will be lovely spending the day with a kind girl as you, and we could talk about this and that and other things! Please do, stay,'' 

He clasped his hands together and looked at me with puppy-eyes, straight up begging me to join him and accompany him in his compartment, and I nodded. 

He punched his fists in the air in happy exclamation, ''Yay! What fun shall we have?''

I sat down as the last whistle rang and he followed suit.

As usual, with I being the bolder one, I started conversation.

''So, Louis, exactly how old are you?'' He replied, ''I'm eleven years and ten months old, for I am born in February and the Brookefield term starts at the twelfth of December and ends in the twelfth of September too. What about you, Chloe?''

I nodded then responded, ''Oh my, I'm just one month younger than you! I'm born in March, the exact date is twenty-two, and what a coincidence it is to be born just one month apart!''

The conversation went on and after Louis listened patiently to Chloe's account of her horse at home, Spirit, there came Chloe's turn of listening diligently to Louis's extraordinary account of his four older brothers and one younger sister at home.

''A family of six! Eight with your parents, Louis. I wonder how it is to have a life like that, for I have only one younger brother, his name is George.'' That set Louis going on and on about life at home and how he manages.

And in that way, Chloe Rivers and Louis Lambert became fast friends.

At twelve, the lunch lady knocked on their compartment and they purchased lunch.

After lunch, the sun shyly said goodbye and heavy, dropping clouds rolled in, thunder announcing their presence.

By six in the evening, the thunder was roaring and the grey clouds were sobbing. Rain pattered the windows and people started taking their blankets to cuddle with in their seats, for the weather had turned dark, misty and cold.

At seven, the lunch, now dinner, lady came again, this time serving food that was steaming and gratefully purchased by the students, who warmed their hands with the steam coming off.

Finally, at eight, the train driver's voice blared out from the speakers, announcing their soon oming destination.

The students started to get excited and fidgety, especially the first years.

The blankets were stuffed back in the trunks, and they changed into their school uniform; girls with long, dark emerald skirts that went below the knees and boys with trousers that were also a deep emerald in colour. The top consisted of an undershirt, that was a light grey, and a over-wear that was a coat that went under the waistline which was also with the deepest shade of green.

Both boys and girls put on their hats, which were a dark, sage green.

The whistled rang and the students crowded at their compartment windows, longing to get a sight of Brookefield Towers, the school of nature and wildlife.