Who's a Delinquent?

Chapter one: St. Marie's reform school for problematic minors

As the taxi pulls up the in front of the building, I see a large stone letters in a slanted font. St. Marie's. I can see they left out the rest of the name. St. Marie's reform school for problematic minors. Or, SMSPM. They really need to work on their name. I mean, you would not catch me saying "oh you have a problematic minor? Check out SMSP- whatever." I opened my door and the taxi guy -Renaldo- was already at the trunk, throwing my two small suitcases on the sidewalk. Since I wasn't allowed to have money on me my step-dad payed before-hand, and since Renaldo had no reason to stick around for this dumb kid who got herself chucked into a boarding school for teens with issues, he hopped in the car and drove off. I barely had time to slam the door closed once the car started moving. "Jerk." I grumbled under my breath. A swung my backpack on, picked up my two suitcases and started for the door. Thankfully it didn't appear to be recess (if we even have that) and no one was there to stare at me as I walked in. The school was built very cathedral-like. With high twisting spires, and large stone collums holding up the ceiling. Everything was stone, marble and tile. Everything cool, hard and sometimes reflective. The halls were totally empty, the white hospital tiles spotless. I wondered for half a second if I could see my reflection in them and debated on trying, but no... that would make me look stupid... I peeked down both ways and wondered where to go. Had they even been expecting me? My step-dad called... "oh hello! You must be our new student, what a pleasure it is to meet you." I turned and saw a tall woman in high heels, a black pencil skirt that went to her knees and was so tight I marveled at her ability to walk, and a white shirt with a black -very stiff looking- jacket. She had bright Ruby red lipstick, and her blond hair tumbled in obviously hair-product-made waves. Her eyes were bright blue -almost silver-, and Her teeth where as white and shiny as the floor as she beamed, looking down on me. Suddenly my slightly below average height was making me feel very self conscious. The woman held out her hand. "I'm Miss Priscilla, the headmistress of this school. I apologize for not meeting you out at the front, I got slightly held up. Gemma Normad I presume?" I smile and shake her hand. Happyplace happyplace happyplace. Miss Priscilla's back was so straight I worried her spine was stuck there. Even so, I said "Yes, that's me." "Well, Miss Normad, all the students are in classes and the rest of the staff are...unfortunately otherwise... occupied, at the moment." Anyone would be able to hear the hesitance in her words but I didn't think about it. It wasn't important. She continued "so I shall be accompanying you, and giving you a brief tour of our academy." I nodded "ok" I was a little afraid to say 'okay cool' in front of her. The way she spoke seemed to shout, I-Have-A-Degree-In-English-and-I'm-Not-Afraid-To-Use-It-In-Violent-Ways. And something told me to not mess with this woman. Anyway, the more I kept my head down, the sooner I was out of here with a signed paper saying 'no need to worry, she's reformed.' But then again I'm sure this hell isnt as worse than the what I have to deal with at home. If you could even call it home. Step-dad sure has tried to make a point in saying otherwise. Anyway. Miss Pencil-skirt strode down the halls, and As she walked she never stopped talking and explaining and showcasing everything the school had to offer. She didn't offer to help with my bags so I dragged them both behind me, the wheels creating a comforting whirrr on the tiles. Countless rooms with numbers on their grey stone doors sped by as we walked, I wondered what was in them. Except for the numbers they all looked identical, it reminded me of prison cells. I shivered and kept walking. "And in here is the dining hall." The hall ended and opened out into a spacious room, with stone tables and (thankfully) wooden chairs. Still hadn't seen any wood anywhere else. what were these people worried about, fire hazard? The 'dining hall' had large windows up above anyone's reach and two silver chandeliers hung from opposite ends of the room. The white floor tiles had faded into a soft blue and there were gold rimmings along the walls and doors. I saw the classic buffet area where we got our food and where the tables made space for the line of kids. I wondered how in the world Step-Dad had afforded this place. Besides the prison vibe, it was dare I say classy and very expensive looking. "We eat here three times a day. Breakfast ‪at 8:30 am‬, lunch ‪at 2:00 pm‬ and dinner ‪at 6:30‬. I must warn you if you show up late there is high probability you will not receive food." She said all this with a delighted smile on her face, like there could be nothing happier in the world, and when she turned to me expectantly I cleared my throat. "It-uh, it sounds... wonderful. I-I will not be late." I played with my fingers and when she looked down at them I stopped, dropping my hands at my sides. The affect Priscilla had on me was weird, and I didn't like it. "Alright then, I'll show you your dorm. It isn't far from here." As we walked she went on and on about the historical qualities and Victorian age pillars and- ya we get it lady, the building is old. We came to a small archway and at the top, stone letters spelled, LADIES DORMS. We walked another hundred feet or so before Priscilla said "ah yes, I believe you are number B73. Yes, here you are." She had pulled out a piece of paper from- what the, where did that come from? Before I could say anything she pulled out a key from her pencil skirt (I saw now that it had a cleverly concealed pocket) and opened the door. Priscilla stood at the door while I went in. Two twin beds, on either side of the room, with stark white sheets, baby blue blankets and one simple pillow each. One of the beds already had clothes strewn all over it, and the blankets out of place. Priscilla looked at it in distaste. One desk, which had some books. A set of drawers and shelves at the end of one bed and at the other, and a small door which I assumed led to the bathroom. One window for the entire room, right above the desk. You could open it, it had a latch, but the bars on the other side enabled you from sneaking out. A slow heavy wave of misery washed over me, but I composed myself, smiled at Priscilla and placed my suitcases at the front of the bed NOT containing clothes. It was obviously going to be mine. "Who's my roomate?" I asked politely. "Miss Ashdale is a fine young lady, even if a bit..." Miss Pencil-skirt glanced at the bed "... unorderly. She will be getting out of classes ‪6:00‬, I assume she shall return here to exchange her study outfit for proper dining wear." I went white. "This place needs a uniform?" I immediately regretted saying it so bluntly. "I-I mean, the school requires a uniform?" I smiled nervously, Priscilla just stared. "We do not have a uniform requirement, although like any proper school there is a dress code. This is for you miss Normad." She gave me a piece of paper (I don't know where this lady gets it) and I saw it had my scheduled classes and the dress code, as well as some other things I didn't look at because they were at the bottom in tiny writing and who has time for that. The dress code read.

LADIES DRESS CODE:
-SHIRTS, and blouses must reach at least until the elbows
-PANTS or skirts must stay below the knee
-NO high heels, sandals, flip-flops, strappy shoes OR platforms
-(We highly advise to keep the coloring in subtler, darker colors. Neon is not very proper school-wear.)

Sounds fine to me, neon isn't really my thing anyway. Miss Pencil-Skirt studied me, and I squirmed under her stare. How much more uncomfortable could I get? I needed some time alone. I needed a clear head. "Thank you, Miss Priscilla." Her silver eyes were cloudy but suddenly they sharpened. Her smile had slipped off her face, and her eyebrows tilted down into a frown. She seemed to snap out of her daze though, and she smiled through thin lips "of course, miss Normad. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have, just drop by my office during free-hour. There are activities that I'm sure a student would be delighted to introduce you to, and the library always adores new volunteers. I hope you get accommodated well. Goodbye." She closed the door before I could get a word in. That was so. Friggin. Weird. Gives me the chills. I shivered. I didn't wait another second to sit down, God my head was spinning. I had my head in my hands. For one second I unlocked the mental door of thoughts I had shoved down, unlocked it because for one second I was ungaurded and didn't need the mask. The mask I never realized was there until a year and a half ago. A thought slipped out through the keyhole of my door. How did I end up here? How could I have done something so STUPID- I let out a growl of frustration and flopped onto my pillow, staring up at the ceiling. I couldn't think like that, I wouldn't let myself think like that. So I took out the imaginary key, stuck it in the hole, and locked my imaginary door of thoughts I couldn't think about. Again.