The courtyard was like a page ripped out of a storybook. It was a winter wonderland plucked straight from the tales of Jack Frost and the Snow Queen, bound at the corners by blue landscape and creatures that shivered in the stark coldness.
Frost clung to the tips of grass blades, melting under the feet of anyone who walked across the open field. Trees, their branches dying and their leaves falling, were adorned with icicles like ornaments on a Christmas tree. The storybook illustration was made complete with great buildings like castles. Its turrets rose so high that it was a wonder they didn't protrude through the thin clouds, and the bricks that lined the edifices were reminiscent of a princess' tower.
But Stanford Law School was no wonderland, and Bellona Wesson knew that better than anyone. The painting that depicted Stanford was one pulled from the dark ages - breathtaking at first glance, but if you were to experience the scenery firsthand, you would realize just how deceiving beauty could be.
For one, the cold that nipped at Bellona's skin was harsh. The chills and gusts of wind made her wrap her gloved hands over her face, the cotton that laced her fingers making an attempt to protect her fragile skin from the brutal atmosphere. Her features were numb. The cartilage on her nose was stiff and senseless to the touch, her cheeks red in reaction to the prickly needles the wind whipped across her face, her lips peeling, chapped, and practically falling off in layers as she picked the dead skin away. It was as if she was being punished for simply coming into contact with the frigid air.
Her mind didn't offer an escape from the domesticated tundra, either. In fact, it did quite the opposite. As she trudged across the courtyard of the Stanford campus, her boots shining with dew as they came into contact with the frosty grass, her thoughts lingered on the wretched class she'd just walked out of: Civil Procedure.
Sure, she'd learned useful information from that class. She'd learned to litigate a civil lawsuit and to weasel through the intricacies of court. But, above all, that class had taught her one thing: as respectable as it was to have a diploma from Stanford, it was absolute torture to get that diploma in the first place.
Bellona was grateful for the wave of heat that washed over her when she opened the door to the library. It normally would have bothered her - feeling like she was walking into a sauna rather than a room full of books - but given the circumstances, she didn't mind. She would welcome any escape from the cold with open arms.
"Bell!" a voice rang from behind the front desk.
Bellona whipped around to see who'd called for her, and with a grin, she responded, "Hey, Summer."
The curls in her hair bounced as she strode towards the desk. She pulled her beanie from atop her head, wiped at the stray, static-ridden hairs the beanie's absence revealed, and walked around the desk to take a seat next to Summer.
Summer Buchanan - Bell's best friend since grade school, and the quintessential reflection of the woman she shared her last name with: Daisy Buchanan. Daisy Buchanan, the golden, prized possession of Jay Gatsby, was a woman Summer had looked up to since they read The Great Gatsby in the ninth grade. And no wonder - any woman who could attract a man like Gatsby was a woman Summer wanted to be.
But, Bellona thought as she rested her bookbag on the mahogany desk in front of her. That wasn't all.
Daisy Buchanan was a light in the life of those around her. Every step she took was scintillating, every smile blinding, and her spirit was one that moved as freely as leaves in the wind. Daisy Buchanan was a treasure all on her own, and wasn't that what Summer was?
It would only take one look at the young girl to decide that yes, that is who she was. That's who she always had been, with her bewitching blonde hair and her thoughts that seemed to yearn for whatever seemed the most pleasing in a certain moment. It was a miracle that Bellona had convinced her to apply for an internship at all - with a flamboyant soul like hers, she wasn't likely to sit behind a desk for hours on end.
Yet, here they were - sitting behind a desk at their college's library, staring at the watches on their wrists and wondering when their shifts would be over.
"So," Summer announced, and with a thud, she slapped a piece of paper down in front of Bellona. "Mrs. Darrow had a meeting to go to, and she left us a list of stuff to do. I already called dibs on what I want, but I highlighted those in pink so you don't get confused."
A laugh bubbled from Bellona's lips. "How kind."
"Well, it is my life's goal to please you," Summer said, but her sentence immediately drifted off into a string of giggles, leaving no room to doubt that she had been teasing.
With a shake of her head, Bellona laughed once more, her eyes shifting to the paper Summer had given her. There tasks written in bullet point form, and streaks of pink highlighter colored over pieces of the curvy handwriting.
The clicking of Summer's pen sounded in Bell's ear as her eyes floated lazily over the list of tasks. It appeared, as Summer's words had implied, that the easy tasks had already been claimed. Bellona sighed. She supposed that's what she got for arriving last.
"You left me a tour?" Bellona whined, her voice tinged with notes of annoyance. "You know I hate those."
Summer shrugged. "Yeah, well, I do too."
Bellona playfully scoffed and kicked at Summer's chair. It slid to one side, the wheels that resided on its legs spinning in response to the kick.
"You're heartless, you know that?" Bellona laughed.
The girls' laughter droned off into silence as they set off to work on their allotted tasks, but Bellona's mind was anything but tranquil. The anxious thoughts in her mind were amplified in a crescendo of chaos, and even as she stood to shelves books, the only thing that crossed her mind was the dread of the upcoming tour.
It really shouldn't have been that big of a deal. She'd shadowed Mrs. Darrow during tours dozens of times before, and she knew exactly how to handle them. Nevertheless, she still found herself fretting over her near future. Summer had told her before that what she felt was simply a trick - a warped idea of a prank that her brain was pulling on her, but Bellona found that difficult to believe when he was staring her worries in the face. What if she said something wrong? What if she made a fool out of herself and ruined someone's first experience of Stanford?
The wheels on the cart squeaked as she pushed the books to the next column of shelves. She tried distracting herself by reciting the book titles as she put them away - Commentaries and Cases on the Law of Business Organization, Elements of Law, This Side of Paradise, The New Jim Crow - doing something as simple as giving a tour to a potential student couldn't be that difficult, could it?
A frown wormed its way onto Bellona's mouth. She'd run out of books to shelve.
Feeling slightly dejected, she turned around and plodded back to her place at the desk. She considered negotiating with Summer over who would take the tour, but she was busy talking to someone at the desk, so Bell pushed the cart around her instead.
"Oh, there she is!" Summer exclaimed.
Bellona's steps came to a halt. Her gaze rose to peer at Summer, who was waving her over. The frown that lined her brow eased, and she went to meet Summer where she sat.
"This is Bellona," Summer began. "Mrs. Darrow is at a meeting right now, but Bell can take you on the tour if you'd like."
Bellona looked at the man Summer was talking to. He was tall, with kind eyes and an even kinder smile, and hair that was just beginning to curl as it fell dangerously close to his eyes. He was more boy than man, as a matter of fact. His features boasted an innocence that was too gentle to be declared manly, his eyes too playful and his mouth too ready to sport a laugh. Nonetheless, Bellona had to admit - he was gorgeous.
"Sure, I don't mind," he said, and his grin grew as he held out his hand for Bell to take. "I'm Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you."
( opening gif at the top of the chapter is by sonatastark )