"Wanna kiss his face, With an uppercut. I wanna meet his mom, Just to tell her her son sucks ( but then I, I want to get him back)" ~Get Him Back!//Olivia Rodrigo~
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"YANCY ACADEMY"-said Mal mentally, wandering skeptically around the well-kept hall of her new school-"it seems a bit too luxurious for a girl like me"-she thought, also remembering the room they had assigned her that morning in the school dormitory. It was a truly beautiful room, or perhaps, after having spent the last two years in a cell, every bright room with a minimum of furniture now seemed splendid to her.
In any case, Mal had only finished serving her sentence a week ago and they practically didn't even give her time to get used to it, before sending her off to school. At least this time they hadn't foisted her on a family and to be honest, the girl was happy about it: no longer being in prison was already a tough change to get used to, so having to deal with a new family would have been just an enormous weight.
Mal snorted and already bored from that day, she leaned listlessly against a wall. In theory, a teacher should have arrived to welcome her, and then guide her on one of those useless tours of the school, which Mal certainly hadn't missed in those years, but she had been waiting for ten minutes now and still no one had arrived.
The girl pulled a small knife out of her sleeve and with skill, she began to throw it in the air and then take it back, without ever losing her listless and slightly threatening air. After those years spent in prison, Mal had learned to never walk around without a weapon at hand. Given her experiences during her captivity, the mere idea of remaining unarmed, made her slightly panic. After all, Mal had learned her lesson when she had a knife held to her throat for the first time, just two days after arriving in prison. She remembered that it surprised her at the time, because in theory it shouldn't be allowed to have guns in prison, right? Well, over time the girl had learned that somehow weapons always entered in prison and therefore it was necessary to learn how to use them and above all, how to defend yourself from them.
"Ah hello!"-a voice exclaimed, prompting her to quickly put away her pocket knife-"you must be the new student!"
Mal looked up, catching a glimpse of a man in a wheelchair approaching her with a restrained but welcoming smile. Pushing herself with her pelvis, she moved away from the wall, thus finding herself in front of the stranger.
"Mallory Irving, right?"-he asked her, his smile widening.
Before answering, Mal looked at him from head to toe: he was elegantly dressed and the white beard that decorated his chin gave him a wise and almost...archaic look. The man didn't appear old at first glance, but at the same time he seemed as old as the world and that confused Mal a lot.
"Just "Mal", but yes, it's me"-she replied, never looking away. She had learned in prison that very often maintaining eye contact with a person is a sign of dominance and security and this is why the girl had now learned to always look into the other's eyes, particularly when they were an authoritative figure.
