Can I Tell You A Secret?

Chapter Four

The next morning I'm organised and ready for school by 7:30 am. Wren, never a morning person, is ready much later. We go to the office again when we get to school, to collect our timetables.

"Where's your form class?" Wren asks.

I check my map.

"Other side of the school," I sigh.

"West or East?" Wren asks.

"West," I say to her.

"East,"she tells me.

We go our separate ways, walking through the bustling crowds of our school. When I walk into my form class, I search the half empty room for Avalyn, and am disappointed when I don't see her. I see some girls to 'stay the heck away from,' sitting on some desks at the front, their super short skirts breaking many uniform rules. I see a desk isolated from the rest of the class, and sit down, bringing out one of my notepads and doodling in it with a ballpoint pen. I get lost in my spirally patterns, drawing them so they take up the entire page.

"That's really good!" someone says, peering down on my drawing.

I turn around to see Avalyn.

"Thanks! Is this your form class?"

"We call it homeroom at this school, but yes," she smiles, "I'm so glad you're in it!"

"Me too," I agree, as she sits down in the desk beside mine.

"Those girls up the front? I've managed to stay the heck away from them this morning," I grin.

"I taught you well, then," she says, then pauses. "This is going to become an inside joke, isn't it?"

"Going to? Honey, it's already an inside joke," I laugh.

A young adult in flats and a stunning vintage dress walks through the door and up to the front of the class. She looks around to see which of her students are here, befor her eyes land on me.

"Alouette!" she smiles once she's walked over to me.

"Hi. I'm sorry, but I don't know your name," I say.

She laughs. It occurs to me that she seems to be the kind of person who laughs a lot.

"I'm your homeroom teacher, Miss Bell," she introduces.

"I love your dress!" I tell her.

It's a 50's inspired dress, with a sky blue fabric, patterned with black and white flowers.

"Thank you! Are you into vintage?" she asks.

"I've just gotten into it. I bought my first vintage dress yesterday. Here's a picture," I pull out my phone and show her the pictures of my sailor dress.

"That's gorgeous," she comments, "where did you buy it?"

"This vintage store in the mall near here. I forgot the name," I say.

"Oh, that's probably Songbird," she says.

"That's the one!" I tell her.

"I love Songbird. It's my second favourite vintage shop. My favourite's about an hour's drive away, it's called Finch. I'll give you the address. Do you have any paper?" she asks.

I push my notebook over to her. She looks at my doodles.

"These are gorgeous!" she says.

"Thanks! Just write on top of them," I shrug.

"No, I couldn't!" she argues.

"No, seriously. Write on it," I say firmly.

She goes up to her desk and grabs a black inky pen. When she comes back to my desk she writes the address in a beautiful font.