The white rabbit club

Chapter 1 - Sloane,Thursday

Authors Note: This was originally written on my laptop on Google docs - s please excuse the formatting!

Summer term at my school was white crew socks with burgundy trim and black Mary Jane Dr Marten school shoes. The sounds of clattering lacrosse sticks in changing rooms and lounging on the field in our midmorning break. It was fondant fancies and lavender shortbreads, all washed down with a healthy glug of lemonade. Running in for lessons because you'd lost track of time, and sitting in classes, half your brain on the work, the other half still in whatever game we had been playing at lunch, or deciding which ice cream flavour to pick in the run put to the ice cream van outside before clubs began. It was scorching summer sun, and the perpetual smell of suntan lotion. Two french braids and a note across the classroom. A secret spot in the trees at the edge of the playing field. spontaneous games of hide and seek and teachers rolling their eyes and smiling as the ‘no running’ rule was broken for the millionth time.

And sports day, of course, my favourite day in the school calendar. The day calories didn't count so you could eat as much candy floss and ice cream and burn it off just dancing to the music whichever teacher-acting-dj had put on. Borrowing your friends facepaint and writing your house name in bold capitals down your leg. Running from javelin to 300m to hurdles and then back to javelin. Finally retreating back to classrooms for lessons, winding up your friends from other houses and bantering about who was the real winner of sports day, comparing body paint tattoos. Then finally, finally, signing into last period and running out for 100m finals and the relays. Screaming with the year sevens for kids you had never spoken to before. The entire experience so much fun even the most miserable teachers dressed up, cheering on their house. Before it was your turn, your best friends morphing into hideous enemies as you hared after them in 100m, just crossing the finish line before herding your relay team together and splitting of again, wandering down to run last leg with your friends from other houses, dancing yet again, now with anyone and everyone, including your head of year. A hopeless attempt to announce each years winners by our headteacher then the overall winner, each house cheering before we were dismissed, and the whole school left, almost dismally already precious memories of the whole year singing oasis etched into their heads.

However, the summer term came with admin hot and awfully stuffy classrooms that were built before the invention of air conditioning. Its on one of these slightly unpleasant, post-lunchtime-rounders lessons I found myself in. “...Begin your work,” My teacher said, turning back to his chair to play mobile games on his computer like half the class. We were all silent when we were working, so the only sound was keyboards, the occasional whisper and the quiet drone of a video across the corridor; this led to the sound of the clock echoing loud and clear into the classrooms. 15 minutes left. Last period on a Thursday was dull whoever you were - even if you were a straight A student, predicted all 9’s in her GCSEs. Still, time keeps going, no matter how melodramatic you are about it, but when the bell rang I still felt that searing rush of relief and happiness as I left the classroom.

My aunt Peyton was waiting outside school, hovering near her car. She waved her hand and gestured for me to get in. As I slipped through the passenger door, both of my younger cousins were bickering excitedly in the back. Hartley, who was always referred to as Hare, was 13, two years younger than me. Her school shoes were tossed in the footwell, black leather decorated with crumbling mud spots, which was quite impressive as it had been at least 3 weeks since it last rained. Her hair was short, tickling her ear lobes, but it still managed to keep its matted look. Her school jumper, she refused to wear a cardigan, was flung askew on the middle seat. Her sister looked like she might come from a different dimension next to her, though. Edith’s hair was long and mousy brown, decorated with messy, splintering plaits from her 7 year old friends and her leather shoes were, thankfully, still on her swinging feet.