THE HIT SHOW [ONGOING]

ACT 1, SCENE 2: The Swim Team

Throughout her introduction, Willow pondered on the word superb.

Superb.

Superb...

For Willow, the word wasn't a word she would use. In fact, it was a word the principal would overuse to gloat about how superb her school was. Good for her.

From the Victorian architecture that resembled castles to the stage that looked like it was left behind by a notable playwright himself, the school was beyond posh.

It was super posh.

Superbly posh.

Willow chuckled to herself.

"What was that? Anyway, here are your keys, it has your dorm number on it. You'll be sharing with three other girls. Now, remember no boys! We have a strict policy in every dorm building. Now, off you go, settle in."

With that, the principal trotted off.

Willow let out a sigh. She hadn't realised the weight of her thoughts, up until now. It was hard letting the frustrations of the three weeks out. She couldn't bring herself to let them out at a place like this, she felt too out of place.

Willow clicked the door open to dorm 44. There were already two girls in there. A brunette and a girl with jet black hair. Possibly best friends. They looked like they were best friends. They both were cackling and rolling over on the bed. Willow wondered if they were laughing at her or at something else.

She stepped inside the dorm room, still invisible, she was glad. She glanced up at the seemingly empty top bunk and figured she'd be crashing there for the remaining time at Belle Cove. She swung her bag and tossed it over onto the top bunk.

"Uhm...that's mine."

Willow turned back to see the owner of the small voice. It was another girl that she hadn't noticed. She was seated on a chair facing a table that was behind the door. She was tall, had ice blue eyes that were piercing through her rectangle wire glasses. Her hair was tied back in a clean ponytail, her hair almost silver blond.

If she wasn't attending Belle Cove, Willow could've sworn she had seen her in a seasonal catwalk or something.

"Sorry, I thought it was empty. How do you keep your area so damn clean?"

The shy girl gave a soft smile, then a shrug.

"You're new?" she observed.

"You could say that. I'm Willow."

"Sylvie."

Sylvie had a soft French accent that seemed to peep out with some of her pronunciation. She seemed soft, quiet, and timid. She kind of reminded Willow of younger Jarrah. Back then, she and Jarrah were on protective terms. Jarrah protected her by getting her out of trouble, whilst Willow fought his troubles for him.

But now things were different.

The cackling got louder and Willow woke from her thoughts. She rolled her eyes at the two girls.

"Are they always-

"Yes. You should see them when they cry."

Willow laughed at that. She couldn't help the image of two girls crying together, whilst rolling on the bed, exit her mind.

Sylvie was also laughing. Like her persona, her laughter was soft also.

With a soft breath to collect her thoughts, Sylvie steered away from the image.

"They have club introductions if you're interested," She interjected.

"Nah, I'll pass."

"Oh, so will I."