My Little Kingdom

A Queen and a Princess

The graceful brunette surveyed the chatting groups of people milling around the field whilst straightening her silky, cream collar. The community wasn't in too much of a disgraceful shamble as she had expected - for the first day of the school year, things seemed to be going rather well. The new year sevens (aged 11-12, in the first year of secondary school for all you non-English peeps) weren't being loud and annoying. In fact, Blair had the hope to think that some might even make promising projects. She hoped she hadn't jinxed it.

"Blair! Hi," Cassie said happily, appearing from behind and squeezing her best friend around the stomach, saying, "how are you? How did the Paris trip go?"
"Great thanks," said Blair, "I got to meet Melburry Cole. How was yours?"
"It was cool," Cassie sighed contently, the memories of her Hawaii trip washing over her. They walked across the field into the old, fancy building, ignoring the glances they got from the communities. The looks were either composed of jealousy or awe, neither of which Blair particularly minded. She listened intently to her joyous friend's tale of how she got stuck inside a jacuzzi...and a boat...and a lilo. Needless to say, Cassie was never the best at water sports. Blair had missed Cassie's dramatic tales of how she caused problems and trouble (almost everyday, but it mostly wasn't even her fault, okay?) and her extraordinary stories in unnecessary detail.

Blair had missed her friends terribly over the summer, but in Paris she had dropped her phone on a road, and only realised when she turned back to see a pile of smithereens and half a SIM card. That reminded her, she needed her friends' numbers. Huh, she didn't look forward to telling them how her fifth phone this year disappeared. She couldn't help it, trouble followed her. All her devices had been technapped or hacked at one point, and she had no idea why. What was on her tech that was so important? How was she important? Maybe it was to do with her great-grandpa? Apparently, he had a really important job, but Blair didn't know what it was. Something to do with helping a country.

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Oops. Blair was late. Quite late. She glided as fast as she could (a queen never runs) through the hallways to the other side of the building. She turned a corner and promptly knocked over stint year seven.
"I'm so sorry, darling. I am just a little late," Blair said smoothly. She picked up the bewildered blonde's history books and handed them to her, before pushing off to her next class.

However, as much as Blair tried to concentrate on Henry VIII's poor wives, that little girl stuck in her head, drifting through her wandering thoughts. She reminded Blair of somebody. But who? Blair didn't know many blondes - she could count them one two hands - let alone short, bewildered blondes who have three separate history textbooks. Blair guessed she looked like one particular kid she used to know, but that memory was staying locked in the little dark dungeon in her mind where things she wanted to forget. There was no point mourning the past, especially the little blonde girl in the photo on her mantelpiece at home. There was no time for that at all.