Elizabeth had never wanted this transfer. If anyone bothered to ask her, she'd say it was pointless and downright stupid. But no one did. No one ever asked her what she thought or what she liked. The man who married mother enforced a strict policy of "Women should be seen, not heard". It was her step-father who suggested that she be shipped off to this All-Girls Catholic School in Junction City, Kansas. 4,390 miles away from her comfortable coastal home. Bournemouth was her home. England was her home. Not America. She had been there once as a child and had not liked it one bit. Everyone was too loud. Too noisy. Too many sounds, smells and colors that most people would love about a place like that. She didn't much care for it at all. When she was informed the plane was going down, a small sense of relief lingered. Almost as if she had escaped a long and boring 6 years of strict rules, smelly nuns, and gossip. Which she had. But once the plane started spiraling toward solid land, her throat tightened and she could feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness. Her breathing seemed loud and her heartbeat much too fast. For one last breath, she glanced out the window, which was a bad idea in hindsight. Her breath escaped her lungs a final time and she blacked out.
Elizabeth was a happy child, from what her mother had told her or the pictures she had seen of her, her mother and her father. All together, one happy family. Her father had acted as the glue of the family. Elizabeth's mother, Florence, had married him when she was 21, in 1942. A year later, Elizabeth was born, October 8th, 1942. She had always remembered her father as a warm, gentle man. He was kind and his presence felt like basking in the sun after a thunderstorm. Charles, her father was born March 21st, 1919. He had a difficult childhood, but was always a bright child. His father passed of influenza shortly after he was born. Meanwhile, his mother was prostituting on the streets for money, unsuccessfully due to quarantine. She put him and his older brother, James in an orphanage. She passed 4 years later. Elizabeth's father had married her mother January 2nd, 1942 and 9 months later Elizabeth came about. For her earliest years, she had been happy. Her father worked hard for years prior to get them into a beautiful home in Bournemouth, nestled just by the beach. Ever since she could remember, she loved the smell of oncoming storms, fresh rain and salty air. Florence, her mother especially enjoyed this because she loved to paint. Florence painted all throughout her pregnancy, Elizabeth had been told. Her step father would not have this. He forbade her from picking up a paint brush ever again. Women were meant to cook, clean and keep an orderly home he used to say. This upset Elizabeth, she hated men like this. He reminded her of the boys in her class, who insisted she go home and learn important lessons, like baking and sewing, that when she was older she wouldn't use this so she should just go home and help her mother set the table. It stung, like holding back tears or squeezing lemon juice into a fresh paper cut. Florence, her mother, was born in 1921, 2 years younger than her father who was born in 1919. She had been raised to be a house servant, as she used to explain to Elizabeth. She was raised to be nothing more than a decoration, a sweet smile when you walked in the door with a fresh martini in hand and dinner on the table. This, she insisted, was why Elizabeth should take this opportunity. To leave. 4,390 miles away. To escape that life. She did not want Elizabeth to become trapped like she had been, she wanted her to get an education, go to college and even get a job. Florence believed women were there for more than taking care of children and cleaning houses and looking pretty. Her mother was rare like that. One of the rare people who believed women and men were equal and should be treated the same. It still didn't make Elizabeth want to go. What were her step sisters to do? Were they meant to become household objects and personal chefs? Those questions kept her up at night. Though they weren't all the way blood related, she felt a certain obligation to protect them, keep them safe from the scissors of society that would cut and snip them until their self worth was reduced to practically nothing.
A strange noise awoke Elizabeth. Groggily, she rubbed her hazel green eyes. The air was thick and humid. Creepers sprawled across the ground, even growing up some trees. The trees were tall, jungle like. Was she in a.. jungle? This was bad. Really horribly, catastrophically bad. There was the sound again. Like a.. horn. Was it a ship? Was she being rescued? Had someone seen the plane crash? No, that couldn't be. Cautiously, she stepped out of the wreckage. A group of boys stepped out about 15 yards away from her. A tall, pale freckled boy seemed to be leading them to the sound also.
"Hello?" she called out. The pale boy looked at her and waved aggressively.
He yelled back to her, "Come here! There is a ship that is here to rescue us, I'm sure of it!" The boy sounded so sure of himself and even enthusiastic that she found herself jogging over to him to introduce herself.
Elizabeth stuck out her hand for a handshake, "Hello, my name's Elizabeth. And you are?"
"Merridew. Jack. Jack Merridew. Are you coming home4y6hu7jrkit,lh be late for the rescue team." Elizabeth nodded and joined the freckled boy and his choir, following them to the unnatural sound. Looking around, she noticed other groups coming out of the shadows as well. Younger boys, older boys, maybe around 13? She finally glanced ahead when she inhaled the familiar smell of salty air and sound of footsteps on sand. There was no ship at all. Just a tall, blonde, athletic boy, blowing into a conch shell. He wasn't tan, but he wasn't pale either. The mysterious boy's eyes meet hers and Elizabeth's cheeks get rosy and not from the harsh sun. Was she getting flustered over a stranger? The boy looked to be about 12 or 13, with strong arms. His blonde hair looked like it was a little wet, maybe from swimming. Drops of water dripped down his toned chest and muscular arms. They weren't too muscular though, not like the body builders whom Elizabeth quite disliked. No, it was just the right amount, like he could carry her and make it look easy, but not too easy. Just right. He had blue eyes, to put it simply, but to correctly describe his eyes is to compare them to perfectly clear blue skies, or the pure constant blue of the ocean with a hint of yellow flecks near his pupil.
"Hello, my names Ralph." he greeted her with a familiar warm smile, similar to her father's. He said something else but Elizabeth was too busy spiraling to hear what he had said. Did he catch her staring? Did he think was weird? Was her hair combed? In an instant, she ran her fingers through her long. strawberry blonde hair. A hand waved in front of her.
" Excuse me? Hellooo? I said my name is Ralph and yours?" Ralph asked patiently.
Elizabeth blushed a little more at that. She was an idiot. Focus. Ask him where the ship is, she told herself. "Right sorry, my names Elizabeth. Elizabeth Baker. Sorry, don't know why I said my last name, not like it matters." she laughed awkwardly. "Oh!" Elizabeth remembered her focus, "Is there a ship nearby to rescue us? Was that the noise I heard?"
Ralph's expression turned ever so slightly solemn, "No, not that I can see anyways. That was just my conch. We are going to hold a meeting once everyone has come out of the wreck." he explained, "Oh, and this is Piggy-"
A chubbier boy shouts, "My name is not Piggy! It's-"
"Shut up piggy piggy oink oink." Ralph remarks and I roll my eyes.
I shake Piggy's hand, "Nice to meet you Piggy, or should I just call you P?" He has a defeated look on his face and shakes his head.
"No, I guess Piggy's fine." he sighs with sadness and frustration, "I told him that in confidence you know? He wasn't supposed to call me that.. And now that's all he calls me. But that's a bad way to start, we should be positive, we are surely gonna be rescued in no time at all. MY auntie always says that staying positive is the best solution!" Piggy rants a little more and I nod my head along, not entirely listening to his speech. My eyes follow Ralph as he leisurely paces, blowing the conch every few seconds.
"Guys," Ralph calls, "I think that's everyone!" Ralph motions over for everyone to come to him and form a circle.
"Now then," he smiles and my heart flutters, "let's begin."
(1568 words)
** A/N (authors note): idk i wrote this for fun, lmk if i should write another chapter**
