The fictitious lives of the real Margaret and Molly

Chapter I

Ana

It was the middle of the school year, and no one wanted a fluctuation in the sea of dullness that was St. Mary School for Girls and Boys, with its predictable waves of school drama that was, until they came, non-existent.

So when Ms. Gwen announced that the new students will be joining our class, everyone looked at each other with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. The girls and boys of St. Mary's had naught opinion on the matter—on the one hand, they were most likely entertained at the thought of soothing the gentle throbbing pain of boredom they were nursing by a fresh face with some stories, and on the other hand, they most certainly didn't want to lift their chairs to make room for strangers.

These were the girls and boys of St. Mary's School, the girls and boys of Middleton, the little country town between two cities. But things would soon change around here. 

Margaret and Molly. I wouldn't have missed their names even if it hadn't echoed around the room like a broken record. I looked up from The Middleton Gazette to see the first girl enter the room and turn to face the class, with the other one close behind. My first thought was that our tatty old uniforms looked good on them; they made it look less...stiff.

"Now children," Ms. Gwen began,

"These are your new classmates, Margaret, and Molly. Girls," she said, turning to the newcomers,

"Please introduce yourselves to the class." said Ms. Gwen, barely audible to me, sitting in the third row. She reached up, a mannerism of hers, to smooth her hair and toy with her pearl earrings.

Ah, Ms. Gwen, knowledgeable in everything but elegance and poise. She was always nervous, and still single at age forty-three, but not by choice. Or so the rumors say. The rumors that are the closest thing to a wave of heat this town could experience in the summer. The skies almost never open up to reveal the sun in its entirety, the clouds were always gray, and so the days were dreary. And today was no exception.

As one of the girls stepped onto the platform in front of the classroom, the first drops of rain pitter-patted on the window, and she turned to look outside. "Erm, hi. Well...I'm Molly," she said. "And I'm very pleased to meet you all," she paused, turning to smile at everyone. "The school has a very exciting program and I'm eager to participate and catch up quickly on all the lessons. My favourite subjects are History and English, and I like to swim, I'd like to try out for the swim team," she paused, lifting a corner of her mouth and looking up to the ceiling, thinking.

It might be important to note that her tone would rise at the end of each sentence, while she giggled in between. This girl was either loony, or extremely sweet and childish. If, at that moment, I had the capacity to feel any kind of strong emotion, then I hated her already.

"I love to bake! Oh and yes, my family moved here... because of personal reasons. We arrived yesterday," she continued. After a few seconds of lip-biting, Molly stepped back and tugged on the other girl's arm, and Ms. Gwen motioned for her to speak.

"Hi," she started. "My name is Margaret. I'm Molly's sister," she put a hand in her pocket then,

"I like Science... and Music. That's all, pleased to meet you," she finished. Well I think that's what she said. The rain had gotten stronger outside and the pitter-patter of rain sounded more like buckets of water thrown against the window. Some of the boys stood up to draw the blinds just as a couple of desks and chairs were carried in to the room.

I picked up the Middleton Gazette, and proceeded to read about Judy Gardener having won a local gymnastics competition. As I was about to turn the page, a hand touched the corner of my desk and I gasped in surprise, turning to meet a pair of brown eyes.

"Margaret,"

"Do you have a pen?" she asked, and I received a half-smile of apology and appeal.

I got a box from my satchel and placed the pen on her desk.

She thanked me, and said, "I like your satchel, it's not the school standard, is it?"

I smiled.

And that was how I first became acquainted with Margaret.