Actions Have Consequences

Chapter 8

The weather was much better, no longer freezing, not hot either, but decent. It was cloudy with a small breeze, but I could cope.

"Cobham Hall, Kent, please," John said to the driver.

"Sure thing," the fat sleaze responded.

The atmosphere smelled really bad. The driver stunk of sweat, the car smelled of mould, and the seats had holes in them where drunk people had had cigarettes and had burned the leather. I sat uncomfortably the whole time, spraying my disinfectant every few minutes.

"Now, here we are," pronounced the driver after about an hour of driving.

I sighed in relief. "Finally."

We drove into a long drive surrounded by trees. That drive then opened up into a large campus, and in the centre stood a huge building. Around it, though, was grass with flowers dotted about every so often. There were teenagers lining the building, probably chatting in their posh, English accents. They were all in uniform, and I knew for a fact that I would refuse to wear it.

"Beautiful," I heard my Mom breathe.

"Very," the driver agreed. "My son went to this school from the age of fourteen. Straightened him right out."

I didn't even need to see John's face to know that his eyebrows would be lifted in pleasure.

The fresh air, as I opened the car door, made me smile. Any longer in the taxi and I would have passed out. My Mom and I left John to pay the guy, and we made our way to the main school building, dragging my suitcases behind us. "How long am I gonna be here for?" I asked curiously.

"As long as it takes for you to sort out your act," she snapped.

I tutted. "Wow, don't get cranky, it was just a question."

A tall, thin woman came toward us with her hands held out welcomingly. "Welcome to Cobham Hall!"

The nightmare came back to me. She looked exactly like the lady in it and I panicked, thinking the nightmare was turning real.

She shook hands with my parents and waited for me to do the same, but I rejected her awaiting hand. "Anyway, let me introduce myself. I'm Mrs Davies, the headmaster of Cobham Hall. And you must be Taylor?"

I nodded. Her accent made me cringe. It didn't sound hot on females.

"Ah," she said. "Your father has warned me about what you are capable of, and I'm warning you right now, fair and straight, that Cobham Hall will not put up with any of your foul behaviour." She turned to face my parents. "I'm sure, by next term, you won't even recognize her as the mischievous young lady she is now."

John smiled in agreement. "Good, that's what we want."

I lost focus of the conversation and concentrated on the stares I was getting from the students. I had the urge to yell out that they should mind their own business, but I didn't as I realized they were not staring at me, but in fact, staring at my clothes. Since when did wearing skinny jeans, flip-flops, floral shirts, and sunglasses become shocking?

"Taylor, I'll give you a few minutes with your parents. Come inside to the reception and I'll get you sorted out," Mrs Davies explained, smiled, and walked away.

My Mom tried her hardest to smile, but we all knew she was finding this hard. "Please, Taylor, be good." She hugged me tightly and then warmed herself to John.

Now it was his turn. "Don't be mad at me. We all know it's for the best," he said, trying to come to terms with me.

I folded my arms and gazed at the grass. "Yeah, well, I'll be mad if I want to."