Jill Brooks and The Three Runes

Chapter Two: Sophia Bennett

A girl stood outside Underwood Primary School, her new school, clutching her bag with a sense of unease. It was strange enough being the new kid, but Sophia had never expected that her first day would come with this much mystery. The headmistress herself, Mrs. Featherstone, would be teaching her class. A headmistress teaching? She thought, puzzled. That can't be normal.

Sophia Bennett had moved to town only two weeks ago, the sudden relocation due to her dad's job. She'd left behind her friends, her home, and the school she'd known since Year 1. Now, she was starting fresh at Underwood, and from the very start, it was already different—different in ways she couldn't quite explain yet.

Her life at home was... complicated. It wasn't bad, not in the dramatic way you hear about, but it was messy, and sometimes that mess seeped into her day-to-day. The Bennetts lived in a large, old house on the edge of town, one of those grand buildings with creaky floorboards and stained glass windows. It wasn't grand because they were wealthy—quite the opposite. The house was a relic, inherited from her grandmother, a woman Sophia only vaguely remembered but who still haunted the dusty corners of the home with her strict, imposing presence.

Her father, Mr. Bennett, worked long hours in the city as a consultant of something or other—Sophia didn't quite understand what he did, and frankly, neither did he. He was quiet, methodical, and tired, always tired. On the rare occasions they did see each other during the week, their conversations felt short, like two strangers trying to make small talk.

Her mother, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy and creativity. Mrs. Bennett was an artist—at least, that's what she called herself, though the walls of their house told a different story. Half-finished paintings were stacked in corners, brushes left forgotten in jars of murky water. She was always starting something new, never finishing. Sophia had learned to live in the chaos, though sometimes it overwhelmed her.

Sophia had a little brother, too—Ollie. He was ten years old and obsessed with dinosaurs. Every inch of his room was covered in posters of them, his shelves crammed with plastic models of T-rexes and velociraptors. Ollie was one of the only constants in Sophia's life, and she adored him, though he had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times with his endless questions about which dinosaur was the strongest or which could run the fastest.

Despite all of this, it wasn't her chaotic home life that weighed on Sophia. It was the strange sensation of being stuck between worlds. Her family always seemed to be in their own universe—her dad buried in work, her mom lost in her art, and Ollie lost in the prehistoric era. Sophia, meanwhile, was adrift. She didn't quite fit at home, and she didn't quite fit at school either.

The bell rang, pulling Sophia out of her thoughts. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and started toward the entrance. Other students rushed past her, chattering and laughing. Sophia wished she could just blend in with the crowd, but she felt like she stood out, with her newness radiating off her like a neon sign.

Finding her class was easy enough—Mrs. Featherstone's room was on the ground floor, just next to Miss Nettleberry's, whose name Sophia had already heard muttered in fearful whispers by a group of older students. She wasn't in that class, thankfully. But the fact that the headmistress was teaching hers felt odd, unsettling even.

Sophia hesitated outside the door, peeking in. The classroom didn't look all that unusual, just the usual rows of desks, bright posters on the walls, and a large window that let in plenty of light. It felt inviting, actually—much more inviting than she'd expected, given how intimidating the title "headmistress" sounded.

Taking a deep breath, Sophia stepped inside.

At the front of the class stood Mrs. Featherstone, who was unlike any headmistress Sophia had ever imagined. She had soft, wavy hair, and instead of the stern, commanding figure Sophia expected, Mrs. Featherstone wore a warm, easy smile. She wasn't dressed in stiff, formal clothes either; instead, she wore a colorful, flowing skirt and a simple blouse. She seemed like any other teacher.

"Ah, you must be Sophia Bennett," Mrs. Featherstone said, her voice kind but lively. "Welcome to the class. You can take a seat wherever you like."

Sophia smiled nervously and chose a desk near the middle of the room. As she settled in, she noticed the other students glancing at her curiously, but no one seemed overly concerned that she was new. Maybe this won't be so bad, she thought, though the feeling of strangeness still lingered at the back of her mind.

Mrs. Featherstone started the day's lesson, which was a mix of reading and a small group project. As Sophia worked with two other students, she found that Mrs. Featherstone's teaching style was much more relaxed than she'd expected. There was none of the usual strictness she associated with head teachers. Instead, Mrs. Featherstone moved around the room, helping students and occasionally cracking jokes. She even encouraged them to share ideas and have discussions, rather than just sit quietly.

At one point, while the class was working on their reading assignment, Mrs. Featherstone sat down at her desk and began absentmindedly twirling a small wooden object in her hands. Sophia couldn't see exactly what it was from where she sat, but it was strange enough to catch her attention. Mrs. Featherstone didn't seem to notice anyone watching, and soon she tucked it back into her desk.

For the rest of the day, everything was relatively normal—no strange events, no secret messages. But Sophia couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was just the fact that the headmistress was teaching a regular class. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

When the final bell rang, Sophia gathered her things and prepared to leave. Mrs. Featherstone waved her off with a cheerful, "See you tomorrow, Sophia!"

As she walked toward the gates, Sophia couldn't help but glance over at Miss Nettleberry's classroom. The students were filing out, but the door remained half-open. Just beyond, she caught a glimpse of someone—a tall figure she hadn't seen before—entering the room. She turned quickly and hurried away, her heart racing for no reason she could explain.

The following days passed quietly, though Sophia noticed more and more odd little things about Mrs. Featherstone. Despite her relaxed demeanor, the headmistress seemed to be watching the school carefully. During breaks, she often stood near her classroom window, peering out across the grounds. It was subtle—almost like she was looking out for something or maybe someone.

Sophia also learned more about her classmates. There was Ellie, who was always drawing in her notebook; Sam, who was quiet but seemed to know everything; and Callum, who was constantly playing tricks on everyone. But none of them seemed to think anything unusual about Mrs. Featherstone teaching the class. Sophia wanted to ask them if they found it strange, but she couldn't quite bring herself to mention it.

Then one afternoon, as they were working on a group project, something strange happened. Sophia had left her seat to grab a book from the shelf, and when she returned, she noticed Mrs. Featherstone talking to another teacher at the front of the room. Their voices were low, but Sophia could make out a few words.

"...Miss Nettleberry... still missing... strange occurrences..."

Sophia's heart skipped a beat. She quickly sat back down, pretending she hadn't heard anything. But her curiosity was piqued. What did they mean by "strange occurrences"? And why were they talking about Miss Nettleberry?

Later that day, after class had ended, Sophia stayed behind under the pretense of asking about the homework. As the last student left, she turned to Mrs. Featherstone while gathering her courage.

"Mrs. Featherstone, do you know what happened to Miss Nettleberry?" she asked cautiously.

Mrs. Featherstone's smile faltered for just a second before she responded. "Oh, nothing to worry about, dear. Miss Nettleberry just needed some time away. I'm sure she'll be back before long."

But something in the way Mrs. Featherstone said it—too light, too practiced—made Sophia uneasy. She thanked her and left the classroom, and walked home that day with her head full of questions. What had happened to Miss Nettleberry?

For now, though, she'd keep quiet.