Life Swap

Rampage

"Good grief...I would die if I had to wear that shit every day...what do they think they look like?" Gemma muttered as we walked past a group of girls from one of the other school parties wandering around the massive Victoria and Albert Museum, apparently truly disgusted by their rather strict uniform for reasons that were quite beyond me. Not that I really disagreed with her critique of the uniform itself, because it was just a little bit Mallory Towers, in all honesty, but in the end, a school uniform was just a school uniform, and if you were sent to that school as a kid, I supposed that they did not get any more choice than we ever did, with our own admittedly rather more palatable dress code. It was just a little bit too much, really. Much too showy, as if someone was trying to make too much of a statement, rubbing in their obvious superiority over mere mortals, like us. But it was not the fault of the poor little saps who had to wear it, because they were just kids, like us. I was not actually a huge fan of garish striped blazers and silly felt hats, but if that was your uniform, you just had to wear it, or else, whether you actually liked it or not, I guessed, like any other school kid anywhere. Parents who could afford to pay squillions for their little angel's exclusive education always seemed to like making that kind of statement for some reason, because it was always the rich private schools that went in for distinctive dress codes, in my limited experience. I followed Gemma's gaze, idly imagining myself wearing a uniform like that, and decided that it would have embarrassed me a bit, especially in public, on a school trip. Not cool at all, and everyone likes to look cool, or at least I did, given more than half a chance. But it was probably no big deal, if you were used to it, and the smart little girls we were blatantly staring at probably were all quite accustomed to it, but it was not for me. In my world, people who dressed like that would be ridiculed, and worse.

"Poor little rich girls? I reckon their parents are paying a fortune to make them look like that and I shouldn't think that they know any different? Girls like that don't live in our world...so they think they are something special...or their parents do?" I suggested mildly, as I returned my full attention to our worksheet for a moment, trying to find the answers to the next questions and making sure that we were in roughly the right place. It was a colossal museum, with so many different rooms, and halls, and we had already got lost twice. It was a complete maze to be honest, but I liked puzzles, and I actually liked history, so I was quite enjoying myself on the quiet, really. Not that I could admit that, because at my school, amongst my friends, liking lessons was not considered normal, and certainly never ever cool, in any way. So, I effectively hid my studious nature, most of the time. But the worksheet still had to be done, or we would get into trouble, which gave me an excuse to actually learn something without being called a swot, or worse.

"Snobby bitches...as well...I bet...looking down their noses at us." Gemma sneered, looking down her nose at them, I noticed, as I hauled her off to the left, searching for something called the Dream Stone. "Where are we going now? This is so boring, Kell..."

"Well...unless you want a detention, we have to answer at least ten of these questions...and I think our eighth is in this hall? It's a huge lump of rock that some Victorian explorer brought back from Africa and gave to Queen Victoria...for her golden jubilee...and if you touch it, you can make a wish and all your dreams might just come true. Fun...maybe?"

"Oh, right...like that's going to work, for us...it will probably make all my nightmares come true...knowing my luck...but...I might ask it to get Danny Brown to fall in love with me?" My best friend giggled as we looked up at the glass roof, so high above us. That hall was more like a junk heap than a museum, as far as I could see. It was full of bits of buildings, fireplaces and statues, even columns, all of which had been found in some far-off land and stolen by Victorian gentlemen, back when Britain was the world superpower of the time, and had an empire. That was why they built the enormous old museum in the first place, just to store all the stuff they were bringing home, basically looted from all over the world and put on display to impress the hard-working people of London, whose taxes paid for the upper classes to swan off to warmer climes and steal the stuff in the first place. "So...what are you going to wish for, Kelly?"