🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧The Ballerina🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

Hey Lolita, Hey!

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

The morning light tiptoed into Alma's dorm room, painting the walls with a gentle hue as she stirred from her sleep. With a deep breath, she embraced the new day, the faint whispers of dawn offering a promise of fresh beginnings.

Alma moved through her morning routine with practiced ease. After a refreshing shower, she donned the required uniform for the day-a crisp white blouse, the pleated skirt, and knee-high socks. Unseen beneath her uniform, she discreetly secured her socks with a garter to prevent them from slipping down.

Stepping into the bustling hallway, the echoes of her footsteps mingled with the murmurs of other students rushing to their classes. However, amidst the commotion, Alma found herself subjected to catcalls and intrusive comments that pierced the air, unsettling her in the sea of jeers and unwanted attention.

She held her head high, determined to maintain composure despite the unwelcome remarks echoing in her ears. Alma navigated through the hallway, her gaze fixed ahead, refusing to dignify the unwarranted advances with a response.

Arriving at her first class, the English literature classroom, Alma settled into her seat. Mr. Keating, the charismatic teacher, greeted the students with an infectious enthusiasm that permeated the room.

As the lesson commenced, the discussion revolved around the complexities of romanticism in literature. Alma observed, her thoughts drifting between Mr. Keating's insightful discourse and the whispers of the boys behind her, their attention divided between the lesson and fleeting comments that bordered on distraction.

Midway through the class, Mr. Keating paused, his gaze lingering on Alma. "Miss Halt," he began, his voice carrying a warmth of appreciation, "I couldn't help but notice your choice of literature. 'Lolita' is quite the compelling read, don't you agree?"

Alma met his gaze, a subtle nod of acknowledgment confirming her engagement with the book. The acknowledgment from Mr. Keating infused her with a sense of validation, a reassuring nod to her appreciation for literature's complexities.

The bell signaling the break interrupted the class, prompting Alma to venture outside. The lush greenery of the school grounds beckoned, and she found solace beneath a grand oak tree, its sprawling branches offering a comforting shade.

Alma delved back into the pages of "Lolita," immersing herself in the intricate narrative. Unbeknownst to her, the very tree she sat under was the clandestine meeting spot of the boys during school hours.

From a distance, the boys-Charlie, Knox, Richard, and Meeks-observed Alma engrossed in her book. Charlie, ever the outspoken one, remarked on the book she held, prompting a chuckle from the others. Amidst their jest, Charlie noticed the discreet garter securing Alma's socks, leading to a playful comment that drew the attention of the boys.

Alma sat under the sprawling oak tree, engrossed in the captivating pages of "Lolita." Unbeknownst to her, the boys-Charlie, Knox, Richard, and Meeks-were perched at a distance, observing her discreetly as she delved into the book.

Charlie, with his irrepressible nature, initially sparked the conversation. "I wonder what she's thinking about," he mused aloud, glancing at Alma. "Must be lost in that book of hers. Wonder what kind of girl she is."

Knox, known for his more thoughtful demeanor, leaned forward, his gaze contemplative. "She seems different, doesn't she? Not like any girl we've encountered before." He paused, eyes fixed on Alma, the gears of introspection turning. "She's a mystery, that's for sure."

Meeks , the studious one among them, adjusted his glasses, observing Alma with a keen eye for detail. "Did you see the book she's reading? 'Lolita'-it's quite a complex and controversial choice, don't you think?"