The front gates were old, magnificent things, black coated and covered in spinning ivy green plants. It was a marvel for a young girl to look at, let alone enter. The whole building was made of the original red and white style bricks, but Isla thought that this feature is what gave the school character. A mix of the old and the old on the outside, hopefully a cleaner, newer, brighter facility on the inside. There was a little silver box to her left, dusted with spring leaves falling from the trees above. She cleaned these off to find a button. A red one at that. Media had taught her the danger of such material and a veil of worry cast over the amplified curiosity.
"Don't worry, you can press it!" A female voice shouts. She turns her attention to the building's left side and spots a window with a young girl's head peeking out. "Press it!" She screams. Well, now guided by this other girl's words, she doesn't just press it. She slams it.
"Who is this?" A male voice rings. The button she so excitedly smashed opened up an intercom system placed nearby, submerged in the ivy. The girl from the window nods.
"Isla Tiang." Isla says.
"Daughter of the noble Rebecca?"
"Granddaughter."
"Come in." The gates squeak open. She's worried about them breaking since they look as though they could turn to ash in any second, but she trusts the school. They would surely decide to fix their own property! She was tentative, but the onlooker smiled, seeming to accept her, and that was all little Isla ever wanted. She was most encouraged when affirmed by others. She sought that from her parents, but never got it. The thoughts swirled as she approached the front doors, not gates, and a lanky man in a suit.
"This way, Miss Tiang." He said.
"Are you a butler?" She asks.
"Not really. A formal greeter, a receptionist, per se!"
"That sounds boring!"
"You must be on your best behaviour. You can't act like this in front of the Headmaster and Headmistress…"
"Headmaster and Headmistress? Who are they?"
"You'll find out soon enough." He presses open the door and leads her in. "Follow me. Don't get lost."
And boy, the inside of the building was a maze! The array of bookshelves and medium sized square desks made the dark timber space almost seem like a chessboard. No, a labyrinth! The girl followed obediently, attempting to remember the path that they were taking, but nothing seemed to sink in, not even the most prominent details. And soon enough to be believable, the pair arrived at a set of dormitories high above the maze in their own secluded section. When her memory did begin to function again, (it had stopped in the intense process of walking and failing memorisation), she realised that this is where that other young girl saw her, for she stuck her head straight out that very window, and glanced at a world of wonder. The man cleared his throat and Isla jumped. Her head flicked back to him.
"This bed has been reserved for you." He gestured to one on the right of him, one off from the windowsill.
"My own bed?" She raised an eyebrow. "Wait… My own bed?!" She looked at him directly in the eye, and he nodded nonchalantly. "Oh, my God!" She crashed onto the bed sheets which had just been made and started making snow angels. "It's so comfortable!" She squealed, and the receptionist smiled. "Sorry, I'll contain myself… What's your name?" She hopped off the newly found piece of heaven, neatened the covers, and sat straight back down, eagerly awaiting information.
"I'm Mr. Salmakian." He replied.
"Well, thank you, Mr. Salmakian! Your kindness has been greatly appreciated…"
"You can meet the Headmaster and Headmistress now. I forgot that they summoned you… You were meant to go there immediately…" The girl looked at him in shock. His eyes were scrunched and face complete with creases and wrinkles. "Dammit, Roger!" He frowned, stomping the floor, which vibrated heavily. This was surprising in itself, for Mr. Salmakian didn't even look muscular.
"I'm sorry. We'll go at once. Take me, for I don't know the way."
And once again, the two set off, except this time, their journey was unexpectedly fast paced. It seemed like they were teleported, because the receptionist had worked here for years on end, making it almost impossible for him to fail. There were two mighty sets of stairs which looked identical to each other, one dedicated to the master, the other, mistress. They rounded off a flat section of the room in the middle. Atop those stairs were two seats, coated in silver and bathed in natural light, causing anyone who came upon them to squint in agony.
"They are waiting for you Isla. Go!" He shouted, blinding his eyes as much as possible before rushing out of sight.
She was traumatised by the light but it was mesmerising at the same time. She had never experienced such a thing, this blinding essence.
"Come here," Two voices beckoned simultaneously. Suspecting that it was the Headmaster and Headmistress, she walked up with the utmost care.
"Hello." She said.
"I am Headmaster Cromwell." The man on the left stated. He was taller than he was wide, fingers long and bony with sharp fingernails. His face was scrawny with a short white beard. He was growing old. Despite the unattractive features, his voice was shaky, but stung with a gentle kind-heartedness that outweighed all the cons. His faded blue eyes shone with something genuine, a charisma, an unexplored character.
"And I am Headmistress Cromwell." The woman on the right spoke. She was the total opposite of the Headmaster. Her face and build was rounded and wider, but of pure grace. There was a beautiful flush of makeup on her, but it wasn't overloaded, nor was it crazy. This made her seem significantly younger, more lively in a way. However she looked, her voice was like hard stone or gravel being crashed against a bulldozer, or being rolled clean by a steamroller. This made her so much more unfriendly. And cold! And stern! The added bonus was the set of darkened, almost black pupils which stared right into the heart of the confronted.
"Welcome to Cromwell!" The Headmaster beamed. "We already know your name. No need to tell us…"
"So it was you on the intercom?" Isla inquired, "You let me in?"
"Yes, dear, yes! Since you are of the shining Rebecca, who graced our school with everything so pure, she has become a role model for everyone here. And she was in your family!"
"Enough of this!" The Headmistress barked, face tainted by the outburst of emotion, "You have shown us nothing. Rebecca is gone now, passed into the kingdom of heaven. She doesn't need to be talked about whatsoever. What matters is who you are, Isla." She pointed at her pondering face with a porcelain finger, "And what you bring to this institution."
"May I ask—"
"What do you want, insolent girl?!" She screeched, breathing growing heavier by the second. It turned into snarls. That picturesque figure was long gone in Isla's mind, and now she was scared of what was to come. Consumed by unadulterated fear, she bowed to them as if king and queen, asking herself out quietly and leaving. She couldn't tell if any lasting impressions were made, or if it was just the Headmistress that behaved like that to everyone.
"Why were you like that, Martha? She's a completely different child. A normal child! Be grateful!" He turned to face her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Although everything was scoured in grandeur, there was still a level of peasantry to it.
"Oh, Charles! You have no idea how much hatred I hold for the newcomers!" Her wrists slapped against the silver, brows furrowed, "Every single child that has walked through these doors, bright or dumb, quiet or loud, social or academic, has turned out to be a complete brat, except for the mysterious one that came only last year. She's changed something…"
"Well, I think there is another game changer in the mix…" Nothing was said after that, and the space was filled with silence.
Isla was driven by the words of the Headmistress. The influence of the adults Isla found both confusing and consuming, and her place in the whole scheme of things was still unknown. She shuffled around the space, ending up on balconies, in spare rooms… She was all over the place, and there was no one to guide her. On a particular balcony, she peered down to gaze at the most exquisite garden she had ever laid eyes on. It had a similar shape to Cromwell's downstairs interior, but it was swarmed with colour and passion. To her masked surprise, she spotted someone familiar down there, working tirelessly to impress a crowd of young students in the sweltering heat. It was the one and only, Mr. Salmakian.
"Now look here at these lovely gardeni— No, Hamish! Don't touch those, they're poisonous and cause serious immediate damage to your skin!" He yelped, pulling the boy's hand sharply off the plant which was a long green vine with red spikes and multicoloured leaves. The kids giggled uncontrollably, leaving him, as Isla observed, stung with fury. He didn't look like he was troubled, but that is the skill of people like him. The masking of emotions that makes him seem nonchalant. Normal. Invisible. "Oh, come on now. Take notes. The gardenia is—" He was interrupted again, not by a child, but by the incessant ringing of the bell that hung at the building's top. All the children cheered except for a few, who frowned, and they made their departure. Isla, who watched the entire charade, found a staircase that linked onto the back of the lot. She was absolutely silent. No one noticed.
That turned out to be the end of the school day, and seeing as it was Friday, the weekend was approaching. Isla's head was swimming with thoughts of what she could do now that she was free. She could set up some board games and play with the others, she could start a water balloon fight with them, she could try to sew, or embroider, or make bracelets, or mosaics! The possibilities were limitless! There was only one complication in Isla's master plan. She didn't have any friends. Any child friends for that matter. That's where she had to begin…
"Hi." She walked up to a group of five girls, chattering loudly and dressing up Barbie dolls. None of them even cared. She moved over to another group, consisting of only boys who were playing with Pokémon cards. One of them was being overtly controlling of the others, but no one seemed bothered. They had grown tolerant.
"Can I play?" She asked the head boy, and she was shooed away.
"Oh…" Isla sulked inside, "Should I be louder...? Yes!" So she did. She cranked that inside voice up by ten. What did that do? Brought her to the attention of everybody. Isla sensed the awkward silence in the room, death glares reaching into her soul. She retreated to her bed, seeming to be the only way to reach peace. She fidgeted with the strings on her rucksack and pulled out the dream catcher, hanging it on the loose string that was coincidentally in front of her face. She then organised her books and kit on the bedside table, storing clothes in the drawers and kept the food in the bag. It was all long lasting food, though, so there was nothing to worry about. The sun that used to exist was nearly gone, so Isla turned on the light next to her bed and began to read.
"What're you reading?" A voice called from the opposite direction of her setup. Isla tentatively showed her face.
"It was window girl!" Her mind cried, "The one shot I have!"
"It's called His Dark Materials." She said.
"Oh, His Dark Materials?! That series is amazing! Have you got up to the part where—" She inhaled, staring at the cover, happening to be the cover of the first book, Northern Lights, "Oh, I can't tell you…" She frowned, as Isla plucked up the courage to engage in conversation.
"You were the one by the window, when I first came…" This was unlike her. Her voice was trembling, breaking at the seams. She took a deep breath, muttered something to herself, and continued, "Remember?"
"Yeah! That was you! Oh…"
It felt like appropriate timing, "What's your name?" Isla questioned. The girl responded confidently and robustly, without hesitation.
"Abbey!" She smiled as bright as the morning sun.