The Girls in Pale

Welcome to Pastell

My life prior to attending Pastell Academy, a private school exclusively for elite adolescent girls, was a complete blur to me.

Fond memories of childhood and grade school are merely tattered fragments in my mind now.

The ability to recall who my parents were or what my siblings looked like (that is if I even had siblings) are distant—lost.

There's just blank spaces where names and faces used to reside. Alarming to those who do not attend Pastell. The norm to the students roaming the academy's hallways.

And as a fourth year student, I would say that the system in which we've run on is far from ideal or normal. But it's normal for us...for the girls inside. It's the only life we've known.

It's what's worked for this place for over forty years and for the community of Bright Ridge, the town in which I'm located.

Bright Ridge is quite small, yet Pastell is fairly large. Nothing changes much inside the academy, nor outside in the middle of Bright Ridge.

The townspeople are talkative, friendly, and well manned when we're allowed to interact with them. Which is on the 21st of each month. A one-day-only opportunity.

Before we can leave for the outing, we are lined up for role call and then lead outside the gates of our heavily secured compound by the upstanding boys of the community.

Boys that are hand picked by the Pastell Academy's Council. The council is made up of our principle (Mr. Azure), vice principal (Mrs. Tea), the secretary (Miss. Clover), a few of our teachers (Mr. Denim, Mrs. Moss, Mr. Flame, Miss. Yarrow) and one well trusted member of Bright Ridge (Mr. Thyme).

The set of boys that the council picks, usually, are the upper class men of Pastell Academy for boys (located on the other side of town) or recent grads that attended Pastell.

They are what you'd call true gentleman. Well mannered, groomed, patient, and endearing. The boys keep watch. A personal detail—of sorts.

We are to do as we please as long as we abide by school rules and town laws. They escort us back an hour before dusk. If we don't make curfew we're to be handled by the council.

I've always wondered what "handled" would entail. Does it mean we'd be kicked off the grounds for good? Expelled? Thrown in a cellar? Who would know the answers? Better yet, who would I ask?

There was never enough clarity to go around. The whole story just was not something you got when you attended a school like mine. You got fast explanations and simple smiles. Very typical of any adult I supposed.

But I never tried to break the curfew or the rules. Like all my fellow classmates, I obeyed. No questioning. Nor back talk or protest. Just plain acceptance. Nothing else.

And if one of us ever did break the rules. I could not remember what happened. The same way I do not remember life before arriving to Bright Ridge.

All I recall is the first day I stepped foot inside those far from pearly gates.

Fourteen and unaware of what I was feeling. Maybe I was excited or nervous. It does not matter which really. Nothing real mattered here.

What bothered me was not knowing anything. Having a blank mind and wondering if I had always been there.

*Three Years earlier*

I tightened my sweaty hands on my back pack.

Nonverbal cues flourishing between the guards. Guards that stared right through me. Yet they acknowledged my presence by curt nods and tight gleeful expressions.