landslide, neil perry

one.

celia keating had been named after the shakespeare character of the same name. celia from the wonderful play 'as you like it' was the daughter of the duke, and she was celia keating's least favorite character.

she never quite understood why people should love a character who was only used as shakespeare's mirror; a character whose only purpose was to reflect a more primary character's passions.

her father had fervently argued that celia was an important character who was fully devoted to her relationships, and that she is simply often overlooked by the scholars. "celia evolves," he would remind her, "from a terrified outsider, afraid of not belonging, into a powerful woman."

"sure," his daughter would respond, "or she evolves to become more confined to the actions of everyone else on stage."

celia didn't want to be like that; to become pushed into the background, disregarded, only useful for an occasional line. she had always hated the idea of being ignored, of being a background character.

after all, who would want to be celia when she could be portia or viola?

but, now, celia wondered if being in the background would be the only thing to save her from her current predicament.

she'd never been this far from her home before, and vermont wasn't necessarily her ideal vacation. but, wherever her father went, she was destined to follow.

despite hating her namesake, celia loved her father and respected his choices. there were times when she seriously wondered whether the man was her only true friend. the two would sit elbow to elbow, books in their hands, not a word between them, and yet it was still the biggest connection she'd ever had with anyone.

then, of course, there was art. celia's father had passed on his love for books and poetry, but the girl had truly found her passion when he took her to her first art museum. the beauty of color made her instantly mesmerized, and it was then and there that her father bought her a set of paints.

celia had become, at least so she was told, an outstanding artist in the years that followed. she would paint landscapes more than anything else; she loved drawing trees and water. only when she was focused on the individual patterns of her brushes did she feel truly calmed, she realized.

she certainly didn't feel calm as she looked up at the large doors of welton academy. "hellton." her father whispered from her right. "that's what i called it when i was your age." he explained with a smile.

"so then why on earth have you come back?" she asked, watching as he laughed.

"you'll love it." he assured her, but she wasn't convinced in the slightest as she followed him through the doors.

the hallways seemed imprinted into the back of his mind as celia's father rounded corners effortlessly, quickly making his way to the headmaster's office. "john!" the man in the middle of the room said as he saw him. he then caught sight of celia, and she couldn't quite interpret the look in his eyes.

"mr. nolan!" he responded, extending his hand, which the other man took. "this is my daughter, celia."

she cleared her throat awkwardly, accepting the man's handshake. "it's so nice to meet you, sir." she said, though it was most definitely a lie. nothing bored her more than the man's blank office.

"it's lovely to meet you as well, miss. keating. i trust that you received all of your books in the mail, correct?"

celia nodded, fiddling with her fingers. "yes, sir." she said when he didn't seem satisfied by her nonverbal tendencies.

he seemed pleased then, smiling up at her from behind his desk. "and i'm sure you've already been warned by your father that you're the first.. female.. to ever attend welton. this is a wonderful movement forward, we hope, and we're looking forward to your progress."