Chapter Text
Sage fiddled at the thin ribbon of her neatly tied bow that hung on the hilt of her freshly pressed uniform. This was going to be her year. This year she was finally going to audition for the school musical, she was going to get the part and there was nothing in the world that could stop her... Well, maybe her father but what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Besides he hardly takes notice in anything but her grades. As he says “To have knowledge is to have a key to your future.” Though in the words of Emily Bronte “What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?” Her Gran Reil read Wuthering Heights to her every night when she was younger despite the fact that she understood next to none of the words. Gran Chyra was always one for Harry Potter herself and would read it to Sage in secret, trying to deter her from the romanticisms of Bronte’s work. But the only thing it did was cultivate her love of stories and inspired her to perform. Her grans were her biggest supporters and if it weren’t for them, Sage would probably still be performing up a storm in the safe confines of her room, alone. The one thing she did hate about the break ending though, was leaving her Grans yet again to live in the cold solitary halls of Babyl Academy, where she only knew her father from arms-length as Headmaster. Love and passion were not words that existed in his dictionary, but tradition and exemplary were.
“Sage dear, it’s time.” She heard Gran Reil’s voice call from downstairs and her hands fell from uniform to examine herself one last time. Not a single crease or loose stitch. She was ready.
*****
Brooklyn sat uncomfortably in the back seat of her town car pulling at the uncomfortable tights that hugged onto the skin of her legs.
“Are these really necessary Harrold?” Brooklyn groaned looking her driver, Harrold, in the eye through the rearview mirror. He was the closest thing she had to a father, being that her real one died several years back. Her mother soon married a wealthy old-timey aristocrat with an abundance of wealth that made even the richest seem poor. And with money came stuffy private school uniforms and the ever condescending student body. She couldn’t stand how the rich talked, socialised, with a goal of only seeking status. Not too long ago she was the daughter of a simple mechanic and a club singer and now everything around her, reeked of money. A hopeless cause of her step-fathers to buy her affections. But money was nothing but an accomplice in her deviously planned schemes that only led to trouble. Hence three expulsions later, Brooklyn sat in the back seat of Harrold’s car in the most ungodly private school uniform with a heavy blazer, a choking bow around her neck and a more than unflattering pleated grey checkered skirt. It was the only private school willing to take Brooklyn in after a considerable donation.
“I’m afraid so, Miss Two. It’s part of the uniform policy.” He replied with a touch of sympathy in his voice. A kindness she hardly ever saw in her own house anymore.
“Fine, I’ll keep these leg chokers on. But I am not wearing the rest of this horrendous uniform like this.” Brooklyn pulled at the bow around her collar.
“The policy states you must wear every piece-” He tried but Brooklyn was already too busy looking up the rules of the school herself, searching for a loophole.
“Yes… But it says nothing about how to wear it.” Harrison caught the glimmer of her smirk in his rearview mirror. She hadn’t even made it to campus yet and Harrold already feared for what was to come.
Sage tugged nervously at the sleeves of her blazer as she awaited the arrival of the new girl. She was part of the school’s student body welcoming committee along with Mags who really just liked to know the ins and outs of the student body and or bodies that roam the hallowed halls of Babyl Academy. They didn’t have to wait long as a black town car came to a stop by the front steps, the engine humming quietly before drawing to silence as the driver side door swung open. A middle-aged bald man stepped out in well-polished wear and grabbed the passenger door. A heel crunched on the gravel and slowly revealing a raven-haired girl, Sage’s eyes widened. It was no secret Sage liked girls but it was something else seeing a girl as beautiful as the one that stood before her and still have a fully functioning thought she was having trouble with. It wasn’t just her long beautiful wavy curls fall from her shoulders, that framed her face perfectly or the curves and form of her body that caught Sage’s attention. It was the state of the uniform that hung on her. Her shirt practically half-buttoned with the sleeves rolled, with her ribbon thin tie knotted around her neck like a choker, a tucked and shortened skirt that was supposed to be knee-length but met just below her fingertips and her black blazer slung over her shoulders, discarded flippantly. She looked up and caught Sage staring at her. The girl tilted her head curiously, studying her for a moment and smirked. The girl winked and bit her lip lightly before the middle-aged man who Sage could only assume was her driver dropped her suitcase by her feet. Sage blushed furiously and looked to her feet. It wasn’t until she heard the voice of her father booming behind her that she twisted around.
“Welcome to Babyl Academy you must be Brooklyn.” Her father turned the corner and paused at the front steps. His eyes tried with much difficulty, not to react.
“That is my name don’t wear it out,” Brooklyn replied bluntly, resting her hands on her hips. But Sage could tell her father didn’t like her at all. Not the way she dressed and certainly not the way she carried her attitude.
“And mine is Professor Five. Babyl Academy prides itself on tradition and prestige as I’m sure you’re well aware of. And because of this, we have certain expectations for our students, one of which is our school uniform. I am more than happy to provide you with a pamphlet that outlines the guidelines. Your tie for instance,” He said with a less than subtle tone of passive-aggressiveness. Instead of cowering away though, Brooklyn took out her phone and began tapping away at it.
“Oh no, I read the guidelines online. Here it states that the necktie must be worn as a part of the school uniform but it doesn’t specify how. It just says it must be worn around the neck which if you take the wording literally is what I have done.” Brooklyn rebutted leaving the professor scrambling for a response.
“Your shirt-” He started.
“Falls in the realms of modesty. I mean you can’t see my parts and all that is said about the shirt is that it must be worn in a modest fashion. And if you’re trying hard to look for something more, I would have to warn you against the objectification of a minor, which can look very bad on your part.” She continued. “Oh, and before you say anything about the skirt, The rules state that the skirt needs to exceed finger length, which it does.” She looked back at him now waiting for him to reply.
“I would tread lightly with that attitude of yours Miss Brooklyn or you might find yourself treading along some murky waters this semester.” He warned. “Sage, Mags. Show our new student around if you will. Help her get settled. Be sure to inform her of our expectations.” He said with finalizing words and left as abruptly as he came.
“What a grouch,” Brooklyn muttered to the two in front of her and the boy who Brooklyn assumed was Mags widened his eyes in amusement and pursed lips.
“That’s my father,” Sage said before turning her heels and walking up the front steps of the Academy. Mags fell in step with Sage and Brooklyn only froze, mortified at her words. Harrold cleared his throat to grab Brooklyn’s attention.
“Miss Two,” He motioned along behind the two fleeing students and Brooklyn’s composure snapped back. She looked at her bag and Harrold shooed her along. “I’ll handle it. I doubt this is something you’d want to miss.” He replied.
“Thanks.” Brooklyn gave him a quick hug and raced after the two who were already halfway through the door.