Monday 27th January 2014
For a town so tiny, the school sure was loud. Kids were throwing streamers, and balls and books in some cases across heads. They jostled in the cramped halls, spilled out into the quad, screaming at each other, asking how holidays had been. Hey, heard you went away for a week, how was the coast? Did you see that movie, go to that concert? What about the party two weeks ago, how epic was that? Things Bonnie tuned out on.
Then the bell chimed and just like that the halls were deserted. Students slammed their lockers shut and vanished into rooms with practiced haste. Bonnie maintained distance from everyone else, content to go unseen.
The class was quiet, but then she was sure most students would rather not sit through history first thing on a Monday morning. Bonnibel had arrived early to class in the hopes she’d go mostly unnoticed. She really didn’t want to be introduced to the class as ‘that new girl’ and she really didn’t want everyone asking why she’d moved here. Things would be simpler if she just cruised under the high-school-social-hierarchy-of-doom radar this year. And next year.
To that end, she sat silently in the back corner by the window, studiously taking notes, answering questions and paying all the attention she could. Flying under the radar did not mean she wouldn’t get good grades. It just meant she wouldn’t be a recurring source of gossip. Bonnibel knew perfectly well how cruel and destructive gossip could be. No, she’d keep to herself.
And she managed to do that just fine until she found herself in the library for her third class; a spare, in which she was allowed to do whichever subject pleased her. Naturally, on the very first day of the semester, she didn’t have too many subjects with work, so she meandered through the tiny library perusing the books. Somewhere between ancient Greek history and WWII texts, Bonnie bumped into a young man (not a student here no matter which way she squinted at him) and a female student having a particularly venomous whispering row.
He caught her with a startled expression on her face and glared. With a vicious prod into the girl’s shoulder and a hushed string of words Bonnie was positive she didn’t want to know, he stalked off. Now, the girl turned around, bristling, her incredible length of black hair unkempt and unruly resembling the tail of an angry cat. Her eyes were a piercing electric blue as they stabbed into Bonnie’s soul, possibly attempting to flay her or something, maybe just noting her down for entry into the ‘skip the queue’ column of Hell’s finest.
The girl continued to glower, before brushing roughly past Bonnibel and storming off. So much for going unnoticed.
“Wow,” a breathy voice said behind her.
Bonnie turned (she’d been watching the dark-haired girl on her whirlwind path out of the library) and beheld a blonde girl not much older than herself, but at least an inch taller. Her shirt and ruffled skirt made her fondness for rainbows abundantly clear. Her hazel eyes were wide open, the kind of expression one wears to a magic show and has their breath stolen when they discover the assistant perfectly hale after being stabbed with swords.
“Wow, what?” Bonnie asked softly.
“She didn’t kill you,” the girl explained. “Marceline isn’t known for her merciful nature.” The girl now stuck out one hand, her wrist adorned with a bracelet sporting little decorations. Her nails coated in all different colours of paint. “I’m Penelope, by the way,” she went on. “Penelope Phillips. But everyone just calls me Pippa.”
Tentatively, Bonnie took the hand in her own rather bland one. “Bonnibel Banner,” she replied. “Is she usually trouble?” she asked, referring to the girl who’d glared at her.
Pippa shrugged. “Not usually no, she just has a bad attitude and a penchant for getting into trouble. She’s a rebel and doesn’t like being pressured. She did punch her ex-boyfriend in the parking lot once and she’s been ‘relocated’ from two other schools. She keeps mostly to herself though.”
Bonnie nodded, she’d known people like that; the kind who do things just to be different. It seemed silly to her, but what did she know really?
“Don’t talk much do you?” Pippa asked, a smile tugging at her mouth. “That’s ok, you’re new. It gets better.”
Surprised by that, Bonnie queried, “You’re not from here?”
“Nope. My parents are European, but I was born in Korea, only moved here when I was ten,” Pippa told her happily. “But it’s good, really. My parents raise race horses and there’s a lot of room out here. I get to help them, it’s fun. And the locals are so friendly once you get to know them.”
The bell buzzed through the library, announcing the start of lunch. Bonnie took that as her cue to leave and waved at Pippa. But the other girl wasn’t having any of that. She grabbed Bonnibel’s arm and dragged her off in a different direction.
“No, no. Jake told me he was going to introduce you to everyone,” she chirped. “You’re not escaping me.”
Bonnie blinked. Jake? Oh yes. “You know Jake?” she asked.
Pippa just laughed at her. “It’s a small town. I know everyone.” They didn’t stop on their way through the cafeteria, merely skirted the throng and ducked out into the courtyard, ringed by walled gardens and sheltered from the sun by pale green shade cloth.
The school was uncommonly green, Bonnie noticed, peering around. Gardens were everywhere, floral murals adorned many walls, there was a lot of stone too. Sandstone, granite, marble, all kinds. She wasn’t used to it, the whole place had a homier feel to it than the last school she’d attended, as if there was more freedom.
With a little fidgeting, Bonnibel extracted her arm from Pippa’s grip, content to follow, less so about being manhandled. Pippa halted at a wooden table in one corner, right beside a pond in which swam a trio of large golden fish. Bonnie wasn’t brushed up on her fish breeds though and aside from colouration and a vague resemblance to koi, she had no idea what they were.
Seated at the table were three people, the first of which Bonnie recognised as Jake with his tawny hair and axe handle for shoulders. Beside him was a smaller blonde boy, but with his same broad shoulders and square jaw, although lithe, more of a runner or a swimmer to Jake’s wrestler. They were sprawled across the table, heads together with a girl dressed all in purple. It clashed a little with her sandy hair, that didn’t seem to bother her though.
When Pippa collapsed down beside the girl, pulling Bonnie after her, they all ceased talking and turned eyes on them – a dark brown in the case of the girl and blue-grey for both of the boys. Jake smiled when he saw her, the blonde boy looked confused and the girl bit her bottom lip. All of them seemed a tad anxious.
“Hey everyone,” Pippa enthused. “This is Bonnibel Banner, that new girl Ellen has been prattling on about.” Slowly, Bonnie waved at them, smiling wanly. “That’s Jake, you know him, his cousin Finn and this is Eleanor Scott-Parker.”
The purple girl smiled now, friendlier, but wariness still creeping behind her eyes. “Pleasure. Just Ellen is fine, by the way.”
“Hi,” Finn said brightly, red climbing his throat and staining his cheeks. “How are you liking it here?”
Jake beamed at his cousin. “Chill, bro. She’s only been here a week.” His eyes sparkled as they watched Bonnie though. Clearly they all expected an answer, no matter what Jake said.
“It’s different,” she said slowly. “I’ve never lived in a small town before.”
“No?” Ellen put in. “Where’d you come from?”
“Ormeau.”
Pippa blinked. “That’s ages away.”
Bonnie just nodded. The conversation faltered and she supposed it was her fault. Hoping not to alienate herself from these people, she added, “I’ve no doubt I’ll get used to everyone knowing everyone else though. Might be a nice change.” She shrugged, trying to smile, but it wasn’t in her.
After that, they were content to chat about their holidays, leaving Bonnie to listen in silence. This was perfectly fine in her book. She picked up a few names too, as she listened, hoping to put faces to them as well. Some were mentioned with shudders of distaste, such as that Tiffany girl Pippa brought up. She got grimaces all round. Then there were the amused chuckles, the fond smiles, and once the hushed murmurs of people hoping not to be caught in speculation.
Pippa brought up Bonnie’s encounter with Marceline and that other fellow in the library (his name, she discovered, was Ash, a senior from the year before who had moved to Blackwater after graduating and Marceline’s ex-boyfriend). They were quick to give warnings against spending too much time with her. Apparently she was a bad influence, having been kicked out of a neighbouring school for some indeterminate (but probably violent) reason. Bonnie was more than happy to heed that advice. There would be no rebellious incidents or accidental injuries if she could help it. No thanks.
Finn walked her to her literature class when the bell rang an hour later. It was a long lunch break to her mind, but they only had one here in Reich, whereas at her old school there had been two shorter ones. Finn was still an odd pink colour and she suggested he go see the nurse about it just in case he was having a heat stroke or something. He just mumbled an answer she didn’t quite catch and hurried off.
Once again, Bonnie sat in the back corner, trying not to be noticed. As before, it didn’t really work the way she planned. A girl flopped into the chair beside her grinning broadly. This girl, Bonnie didn’t know, but she had a wild array of dark brown curls pulled back from her face in a rough pony tail.
“Hiya!” the girl said. “I’m Keila. Lovely to meet you.” She thrust a hand across the table, wrist covered in woven bangles, a silver ring on her index finger. “You’re the talk of the school, you know that?”
Gently, Bonnie took her hand. It was only polite. “I’m Bonnibel. And yes, I was aware.”
Keila tilted her head. “Kinda quiet aren’t you? That’s okay; we’ll beat it out of you.” At Bonnie’s now very wide eyes, Keila laughed. “Oh don’t worry, I’m just kidding. There will be no beatings. Not unless you tick off old Halterbutt of course.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a jerk. Don’t mind him.”
That… was a most unusual way to refer to someone. She frowned. “Uh… Halterbutt?” Bonnie asked curiously. What a strange nickname.
“Yeah, Leonard Halte, the principal here,” Keila explained, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “He’s a big old, baldy-headed jerk. A fun-sponge, a… a… lemon-faced, cucumber-chewing, fuddy-duddy of buttmunchery and doom.” Keila leered at her notebook.
Smiling now, Bonnie wondered, “You don’t like him much, I take it?”
“Oh… not at all. I swear, if he were to walk through the airport metal detector arch thing, it’d go off, because he has a massive steel rod jammed firmly up his arse.” Keila utilised her pencil in describing that, much to Bonnie’s amusement. “The dude never smiles. Just glares at people. We haven’t had a sanctioned school function in nearly four years because of him. I swear to God, we will be the cohort to end his reign of terror.” Keila slammed her hand on the table for emphasis, drawing the teacher’s gaze.
He cleared his throat. “Keila, if you would, pay attention.”
She grinned at him, giving a mock salute when he turned his back and sticking her tongue out. “Because literature is such an important subject.”
Bonnie smiled at her, turning her gaze back to her book. “You don’t like literature?” she asked softly as the teacher began to chatter about eighteenth century playwrights.
Keila shrugged. “It’s not my favourite. I don’t like analysing things. I want to know what the writer actually meant too much and the teacher always gets mad because apparently it’s important to ‘formulate my own opinions’.” She sighed.
“Don’t you have opinions?” Bonnie chuckled.
The look Keila flashed at her might have been made of pure venom. “Of course I have my own opinions. It just so happens, however, that my opinion on why both Romeo and Juliet died is that dear old Shakespeare was a huge troll who laughed at the end when the audience got all angsty about it. Which, funnily enough, isn’t valid.” Daggers flew from her eyes as she scowled at the teacher.
Bonnie just kept smiling at her notebook.
“You know, the funny thing is I don’t care.”
Keila pouted, her brown eyes going very big, pleading. It was her puppy-dog face and only a special few people could resist it. Happily, Marceline was just such a person.
“No,” she huffed again, folding her arms stubbornly.
“Come on, Marce,” Keila pleaded, grabbing her arm and shaking. “Just give it a chance. You might change your mind.”
“Or I might decide that the pastel princess really is a pretentious, pompous and prissy poser.”
“That’s a lot of ‘p’ words,” Keila grumbled. Marceline exhaled heavily and stormed off towards home. Not that she really wanted to go home, but it was home, regardless of how much she might loathe it. Keila trailed behind her. “Please? Just once.”
“I don’t want to play nice with the new girl, Keila,” she said firmly. “End of story. I’m going to have zero to do with her for the next two years. At which point, she’ll waltz right on back out of our small town without a backwards glance.”
“You don’t know that. Why don’t you at least just say ‘hi’? I know you’re not a popsicle, but you might at least pretend like it’s the truth now and then.”
“Yeah sure, then what?” Marceline spun on her best friend. “I don’t want to talk to her, alright? Just leave off.”
Keila frowned at her, clearly taken aback by her foul mood. “Geez, fine then. Must be that time of the month. Go have a nap or something.” With that, Keila trotted off in the other direction, obviously deciding she didn’t want to deal with Marceline.
This was fine by her. A little solitude wasn’t such a bad thing. She shoved her hands in her pockets and grumbled nonsensically to herself. At the last, she changed her mind, deciding against heading home just yet. Instead she wound through town and up the hill just past the fruit market.
Collapsing underneath the tree at its crest, she watched the sun go down over the lake. It was a nice calm place here. Not many people stopped by to irritate her and her father never thought to check. Peaceful silence.
Marceline closed her eyes, ruminating over the new girl and the harsh words she’d exchanged with Keila. Those were some nice ‘p’s she used, the thought meandered lethargically through her brain and she sighed again. So the princess in pink was from out of town and walked like she resented being here in their tiny town. Not much of a first impression, if Marceline was asked. Which – of course – she never was.
Still, she supposed it wasn’t fair for her to get all snippy with her best friend over the pretty petal. She pulled out her phone, tapping it on her palm, thinking. Eventually, she sent a message to Keila, trying to convey as much of an apologetically humble tone as she could through text.
Then she smacked her head against the tree and closed her eyes. She didn’t really want to make friends with the new girl. She didn’t, it was pointless. They’d become friends, then she’d leave and maybe they’d stay in contact for a while, but eventually they’d fall out of touch and forget. Better not to put herself in that position from the start.
Her phone pinged, vibrating against her hip.
S’alright, Keila sent back. I can’t stay mad at you. Just give her a chance ok?
Once again, Marceline sighed. She didn’t want to give her a chance. It was best to just ignore her. The princess would have plenty of other people to pester. Friends she’d dig up in spades, Marceline didn’t need to throw herself in that hole just to be noticed. No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Pastel pink could take care of herself and Marceline would stay out of it.
She made a mental note to continue to ignore Keila’s advice.