Chapter Text
Great. She had a roommate.
Beatrice rolled in her rain-battered suitcase behind her and shouldered off her other soaked bags onto her bed, sparing a disheartened glance at the armageddon of her roommate's luggage.
On the right side of their little room lay what appeared to be a rubbish bag full of clothing and a rucksack haphazardly tipped over, leaving sweet wrappers, empty bottles and writing utensils to grace the unmade surface of the bed. Beatrice felt a sigh escape her.
She was fortunate enough to have been granted a solitary room last year, but clearly she had not retained said good fortune through to her final year at this place. It was rumoured to be a luck draw that decided who was assigned to what room and with whom, but contrary to this, Lilith, with her very rich and very philanthropist parents, had been given a one person bedroom with the most conveniently placed plug sockets and actually functioning radiators—two years in a row. Suffice to say she was the envy of the school.
Beatrice had maintained in her head that if she was studious enough and polite enough and smart enough last year, that perhaps Mother Superion would have noticed and bequeathed upon her another one person bedroom for this year, but alas. No.
She sighed again as she shucked off her drenched coat and unzipped her suitcase to rearrange her belongings, which consisted mostly of her uniform and assorted turtlenecks for the weekends and trips to town, but those were few and far between. Her shoes, that she had only just polished, seemed to gleam maliciously at her as she tucked them beneath her bed. On the covers of her Language textbooks that she stacked on her tiny desk, college students grasped folders and papers and walked alongside their friends, and appeared to be laughing with each other at the pitiful sight of a drenched and miserable Beatrice, who forlornly wished she had savoured every moment alone last year just a little bit more.
Beatrice rolled her eyes at herself. She was being ridiculous, she knew, so she squared her shoulders and steadfastly decided then and there that whomever this roommate was, whether they be untidy or mean or stinky or loud, Beatrice would not mind. In fact, Beatrice would be positively saintly.
She carefully laid her Bible on her bedside table and traced the gold cross that decorated the cover. She was just about to put down her meticulously cared for succulent beside it when boisterous laughter resounded down the hall outside her room. A grating American accent came after, and Beatrice did not have enough time to send a desperate plea to God before the door rattled open and there stood the girl beside Camila. More babble continued to flow from the girl’s mouth as she spoke, and Camila, the sweetheart, listened with rapt attention.
"And, yeah. That's basically how I managed to fit fifteen marshmallows into my mouth," the American grinned. "Pretty impressive, right?"
Camila nodded excitedly, "Very! And why exactly did you do this?"
"Oh, I just wanted to see how many I could manage. I'm aiming for 20 next time."
Beatrice had had enough marshmallow talk. She cleared her throat delicately.
Ava turned her gaze from Camila up to meet Beatrice, and her twinkling black eyes seemed to spark a little more. Beatrice clasped her hands behind her back.
"It's nice to meet you," Beatrice spoke evenly. A classic greeting, polite, comfortable. A good choice. "I'm Beatrice."
Perhaps not such a good choice, because Ava proceeded to laugh stiffly. "Yeah, you too. I'm Ava. I... guess we're roomies?"
Beatrice smiled flatly and nodded, clamping down her distaste at the word.
An awkward silence.
"Well!" Camila smiled, encouraging Ava into the room with a gentle pat on the back, "I'll leave you guys to get acquainted with each other. Dinner at 8! Toodles!"
Camila shut the door behind her, and Beatrice watched as Ava went to her side of the room and sat down. Beatrice sat down as well.
"Sooo..." Ava began. Her legs swung beneath her. "I'm Ava. Oh. I already said that," she laughed. "Ava Silva. I actually started here this year."
"Yes, I gathered."
"And you?"
"I've been here since year 10."
"Cool." Ava hummed and picked at a loose thread of her duvet cover. "Lovely weather?"
Beatrice looked out their window as a blast of lightning arced through the sky. The rain continued to pelt down unrelentingly.
"Yes, mid September British weather can be delightful."
A flicker of mirth lightened her roommate’s dark eyes for a moment. "You lived here all your life?"
"I've been here and there. But yes, mostly England."
"Ah! Cool."
"I promise it's not this dreary all year round."
"I'll take your word for it," Ava winked.
As Ava stood and busied her self with organizing her belongings, Beatrice took a moment to catch her breath. The wink had been unexpected.
Beatrice followed suit and found a place to allocate her succulent as well as everything else, and by the time she had settled on her bed Camila was opening the door with her blindingly warm smile and saying "Dinner time!"
"Yes!" Ava grinned, immediately dumping all her books on the floor.
The trio made their way down to the canteen, Camila pointing out people she ought to befriend or avoid, classrooms that would be well-frequented by her, and teachers that gave detentions if you chewed gum in their class. Ava paid rapt attention, ooh-ing and ah-ing along.
Watching Ava eat was a sight to behold. As Beatrice cut apart her broccoli into bite sized pieces, Ava tore into her chicken with a fervour that left Beatrice a little afraid.
Beatrice completed her nightly routine before settling at her desk for a quick perusal through her summer holiday flashcards. Their first lessons of the year would likely just be going through the syllabus, but Beatrice liked to be prepared. Mother Superion, who taught French and Latin, was an ardent believer in pop quizzes at the most unexpected of times. She briefly brushed up on her conjugations as Ava came through their door, fresh from her shower. Beatrice did not look up.
"Man, your showers suck," a shiver ran through her words, and Beatrice heard fumbling behind her. It was true: the showers here erred on the side of ice cold.
Out of her periphery, she saw Ava crouch down beside the radiator.
"Those don't work." Beatrice said.
"What do you mean they don't work?"
Beatrice turned around, and regretted it the moment she saw Ava in sleep shorts and a tank top. Beads of water rolled from her damp hair down her neck.
Beatrice swivelled back around and stared uselessly at her cards. "I mean, they don't work."
Ava grumbled and moaned and sighed. "Isn't the tuition for this place like... a lot? And the radiators don't work? And the chicken is dry? And the showers are cold?"
"The chicken is dry?"
"At dinner. It was dry."
"Didn't seem to stop you from gorging yourself on it."
Ava grumbled again, and Beatrice imagined she was pouting. "I was hungry," she said.
A few more minutes passed of Beatrice trying to focus on the subjunctive tense and Ava trying to get the radiator to work. Neither were successful.
Beatrice closed her book. She felt confident enough that she would be able to brace any pop quiz that came her way tomorrow, so she settled into bed. Ava still looked on at the radiator with a deep sadness, as she clutched her arms around herself and her inadequate pyjamas.
"Perhaps," Beatrice began gently, "You ought to wear a sweatshirt to bed. The nights here are cold."
Ava looked glum. "England sucks."
Beatrice sighed. "Yes."
Ava shuffled over to her rubbish bag of clothing and pulled out a sweatshirt and joggers, then proceeded to whip off her shorts to change.
Beatrice turned over in her bed and faced the wall.
"Ugh, that's way better," Ava groaned, hopping into bed. Beatrice took this cue to roll back over.
Ava wiggled about for a moment, a content smile on her face as she pulled the duvet right up to her chin, seemingly warm at last. She sighed. "I think I might petition to get our radiator fixed. This is an injustice."
Beatrice closed her eyes. "There are many injustices in the world, Ava. We cannot battle them all."
"So - what? You're just going to roll over and take it?"
"Being a little cold in the winter will not kill us."
"So you're going to roll over and take it. Well Beatrice, I'm not. I'm a fighter. I'm going to bring about change to this school."
Beatrice felt a smile worm its way to her lips. "I'm sure you will."
"Hey, don't say it like that. I will! Just you wait!"
Beatrice rolled her eyes beneath her closed eyelids. "Goodnight, Ava."
A sigh. "Night, roomie."
When the sun rose the following day, so did Beatrice. She was on her way back from her morning shower when she heard a loud wail come from her room, and Beatrice opened the door with lightning quick speed.
Beatrice had expected the worst: Ava, passed out on the floor. Ava, fighting off a burglar. Ava, electrocuted, fiddling with the sockets.
Instead when Beatrice walked in, Ava was holding up her uniform and looking like she was about to cry.
"Beatrice..." Ava looked at her with wide, scared eyes. "What is this?"
Beatrice briefly closed her eyes. "The uniform."
"Beatrice..."
Beatrice walked into the room and tucked away her toiletries. "Yes, Ava?"
"I can't wear this."
"I'm afraid you'll have to."
"Beatrice," Ava whined.
Beatrice turned around to look at her. Ava still held the uniform in her grasp, clutching at the navy fabric with desperation. "Ava. This is a British school."
"But I didn't think it'd be so ugly!" Ava sighed, "I thought it would be cute. And stuff. With like, knee high socks and plaited skirts. Instead, this shirt is... like this. Why does it look like this, Beatrice?"
Beatrice looked down at the shirt Ava was gesturing to. Over the right pocket of the shirt was the school's insignia, and blue embroideries looped around the buttons to contrast with the naturally creamy-yellow colour of it. At the end of the sleeves were ruffles. Admittedly it was hideous.
The rest of the uniform was tamer, however. The navy jumper Ava held would cover the embroideries, and the pinstriped blazer was sometimes rolled up at the sleeves by the 'cooler' students. The skirt was pleated, but it also reached the shins.
Supposedly the sleeve ruffles had been a mistake by the administration a few years ago, and they'd been too proud to change it since. Now, Saint Areala's School for Girls' signature look was not their insignia, but instead their dreadful uniform.
"It's not a big deal, Ava. Everyone has to wear it."
"And... the tie?"
"And the tie."
Ava sighed, but started to change out of her pyjamas anyway. Beatrice busied herself with packing her school bag with the necessary books.
A few moments passed peacefully, before Ava was making noise again.
"Problem?"
Ava growled. "I can't get this stupid tie on."
"Do they not teach children how to tie ties in America?"
"No, actually, they do not."
"Well, first of all you have to lower the thicker side and get the thinner end up higher— yes, no— higher. Yes, and then you flip one end over the other—No, wait. No the other one. No—"
"Can’t you just do it for me?"
Beatrice paused her packing. "Okay."
Beatrice did not bother to analyse why she felt flustered at the thought of getting any closer to this new person, and instead advanced with the mindset of a professional.
She delicately looped the two ends of the fabric and fashioned it into a perfect tie. There. She patted the knot and looked up at Ava as she did so, to find Ava looking right back.
Beatrice stepped away and cleared her throat. "You'll have to learn to tie it yourself."
"Totally." Ava's dark eyes did not let go of Beatrice's. "But, like, until I learn, you can still help me right?"
"Of course. It would be unchristian of me not to."
The day passed fairly quickly. Polite greetings were made to teachers and students she had not seen yesterday, summer homework was handed in and Mother Superion had granted them mercy, skipping the pop quizzes in French. All in all a pleasant day, up until her final lesson, P.E.
Physical Education had never been an issue for Beatrice. She trained hard and was rewarded for it by a strong body and quick feet. Her extracurricular kick boxing didn't seem to hurt, either.
Except, for the life of her, Beatrice could not seem to score a single goal when Ava was there; red, sweaty, and completely out of breath.
Beatrice chanced one more shot at the goal, but with a 'WOO, GO BEATRICE' in that now-familiar American accent of Ava's, the ball went flying completely to the left.
"Oh, shit," she heard.
With a short burst of the whistle, the match was finished.
Beatrice bent over, resting her hands on her knees and panting. She had essentially made their team lose, and the embarrassment felt suffocating.
She heard someone jog over, and their hand ghosted over her shoulder for a second.
Beatrice looked up. Ava. A swell of anger rose to the surface. This is all her fault.
"Hey, you good Bea?" Ava tapped the other girl's arm, only for Beatrice to recoil at the warm jolt she felt from Ava's palm on her skin.
She clenched her jaw. "I'm fine."
"You sure? Camila told me you were a total beast at soccer- I mean- football. Like, killer."
Beatrice felt her embarrassment multiply. "I said I was fine."
Ava looked uncertain.
Beatrice’s resolve wavered under the concern in Ava's eyes. She bit her cheek before she spoke: "Actually, Ava, I would have preferred if you hadn't distracted me with that last goal."
"Oh," Ava said, and the already present flush on her face deepened. "I'm sorry."
Beatrice immediately felt terrible. It was hardly Ava's fault that she was so... distracted by her. "No-no." She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blamed you. I'm just... not on top of my game today." She wiped her hand across her forehead and found it slick with sweat.
"Yeah?" Ava prodded, as they made their way to the changing rooms. "What's up?"
Beatrice shook her head, but her eyes fell instinctively to the notch between Ava's collarbones, that rose and fell with her breathing and glistened with sweat. "Nothing."
Ava rolled her eyes, apparently oblivious. "Whatever. I'll get you to trust me one day, Bea."
The rest of the week flew by as the school body settled into the rhythm of the new year. Homework was already being assigned, and teachers were already giving out detentions. That is, teachers were already giving out detentions to Ava Silva.
When the door opened and a dejected Ava trudged into their shared room, Beatrice tutted from her position at her desk.
Ava groaned. “Don't tut me."
Beatrice heard what she presumed to be Ava collapsing onto her bed. A muffled voice came after: "This school is fucking crazy."
"Language."
"They made me clean the floor of the Biology room. Did you hear me, Beatrice? I was on my hands and knees scrubbing that floor for two hours. It's inhumane! It's unjust! It's a violation of my rights-"
"What did you do?"
"... I made goo explode everywhere."
"Then that is probably why you scrubbed the floor for two hours."
"Yeah yeah, whatever goody two-shoes. I bet you've never had a detention."
Beatrice laughed at the thought. "Nope."
"Well this officially means I'm cooler than you."
"I don't think it works like that."
"Yup, it does." Sheets crinkled as Ava moved about. "I'm the coolest girl here. I got a detention in my first week."
Beatrice hummed and highlighted a few words of her textbook. "Camila once got a detention on the first day of the year."
The silence that followed was more perturbing than anything Ava could have said. Beatrice turned her head over in her direction, then almost fell backwards in her chair as Ava shot forward to Beatrice’s desk, on her knees.
"Say that again?"
“Camila once got a detention on the first day of the year?”
“Huh?”
“I said, Camila—”
"I heard you! But, you're telling me, that Camila—that sweet sweet little kid, who crosses and apologizes on my behalf to God whenever I swear, got a detention on her first day? You're saying that—that—she's cooler than me?"
Beatrice looked straight into Ava's eyes as she delivered the killing blow: "Yes."
Ava keeled over backwards and lay on the floor. "What a bad ass. What'd she do?"
"She confessed to punching Crimson."
"Crimson-? Oh! That pale, freakishly tall ginger girl that keeps looking at me like she’d like to kill me?"
"Yes, her."
"Nice. Camila rocks. What did Crimson do?"
"You know, run of the mill bullying. She'd said some unkind things to me. Um. Implying I was... gay. Which obviously is not true," Beatrice hurried to add. "But she’d had it coming for many years. Not only had Crimson been unkind to me, but she had also essentially bullied the entire student body."
"Yeah, she's been saying some pretty nasty stuff to me, too. I'm on this scholarship, right?" Beatrice nodded in surprise at this new information, "and apparently it's gotten out. Anyway, she won't stop taunting me about it, saying, well. Mean stuff."
Beatrice felt a flare of anger rise in her chest. Perhaps she ought to have another chat with Crimson.
"If you have any more trouble with her, please do not hesitate to tell me or Camila. I'm sure Camila could deal with her fairly swiftly."
"Huh." Ava sighed, and smiled dreamily. "Cool. I think I'm in love with Camila."
Beatrice could not help the flush that rose to her cheeks, nor the jolt of irrational jealousy that shot through her. It was a joke. Obviously. But she blinked furiously at her textbook all the same.
"She's very lovable," Beatrice eventually managed.
"Well, not as lovable as you," Ava laughed, and swatted her feet at Beatrice's.
Beatrice rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered. She'd over-analyse that later.
The next weekend rolled around eventually, and Beatrice found herself warming even further to Ava's antics. Perhaps God had not forsaken her this year like she had initially thought upon discovering she was to have a roommate. And yet, when she looked at Ava and blushed at Ava and stuttered at Ava, she could feel the beginnings of shame curl around her stomach, smoky tendrils of guilt worming their way into her interactions with the girl. Beatrice would find herself turning stiff the moment Ava would lean in too close, or smile too much, or look at her too intently with those dark eyes of hers.
Ava, the champ, seemed to adjust to it well enough. But Beatrice would catch hurt flit across her face in the moments when Ava thought she wasn't looking, and Beatrice would have to brace herself to keep from vomiting up the guilt.
In other news, Ava had been raving on about a party that was supposedly going down in an empty field a half hour away, and seemed positively giddy at the prospect of alcohol. Beatrice, not so much.
"You have to come, Bea. You have to!"
"Au contraire, I am under absolutely no obligation to come."
Ava groaned, "Au con-whatever, I am your roommate and your friend, and I want you there with me!"
Beatrice kept her gaze firmly on her notebook, and ignored the soft burn of Ava's hand around her arm. "En revanche, mon ami, je dois rester ici pour travailler." Ava blinked at her. "Lundi, j'ai une control avec Mother Superion en français, et j'ai peur. Je ne suis pas prêt."
Ava nodded slowly, eyes glazed over. "I did not understand a word of that, but if you're talking about your french test on Monday, that sounds like pretty good french to me! Bea! Come on! It's the beginning of the year. You've got plenty of time to become fluent."
Beatrice felt her resolve beginning to fracture, and she knew she was doomed.
Frankly, Beatrice's wildest fantasies did not come true. As much as she'd envisioned a care-free night filled with booze and spin the bottle and truth or dare (with Ava), it mostly consisted of Beatrice sitting with Camila and Mary a ways away and glaring at the boy Ava had been talking to the whole night.
She was miserable. And cold. And sober.
On the half hour trek back to the school, Beatrice was even miserable-r.
"And, like, he was definitely flirting with me. Talking about like, showers, and stuff. And rolling with his presets—PHEW. Camila, you did not tell me the boys over there looked like that."
Mary's eyes rolled so far back into her head she might've gone blind.
"And it was so fun! I had like, 3 beers, and I was immediately drunk. Isn't that great? Isn't it great we can drink at 18, here? Although, I'm not 18 yet but--"
"Yeah, real great," Mary grumbled as she readjusted her grip underneath Ava's arm to stop the girl from rolling into the road. Camila held up her other side.
"Hey! Bea! What did you think?" Ava shouted.
'Bea', was walking ahead by about 10 paces, and trying not to kick the rocks in her path like an upset schoolgirl. She also didn't answer.
"Pfft... what's up with her?"
Beatrice kept walking. So what if Ava was flirting with a boy? So what if Ava wouldn't stop talking about him?
"He actually," Ava paused, and released a nervous giggle, "invited me on a date. Eek!"
If Beatrice had wall-phasing abilities, she would phase right though the floor into the hot, hot core of the earth. Instead, she stumbled over a stray pebble.
"But... I dunno if I'll go. He's like... too hot. You know?"
Finally, by some divine blessing, they managed to sneak back onto school grounds with the help of Beatrice's uncanny flexibility, Camila's lock-picking skills, and Mary's blessed ability to shut Ava up.
After Camila and Mary returned to their respective rooms, Ava and Beatrice were left alone. Beatrice, fortunately, was of sound enough mind to drag Ava through their nightly routine: brushing teeth, washing faces and changing into their pyjamas, the last of which Ava struggled with. For whatever reason, she seemed incapable of putting her sweats on without falling over, so Beatrice held her steady and then tucked her into bed.
The smile that came blossomed as Beatrice pulled the duvet up to Ava's chin made Beatrice feel a little better about risking expulsion just so she could watch Ava get plastered and flirt with a boy.
She was about to make her way to her own bed, when a hand snaked out from under Ava's duvet and grasped Beatrice's own. Beatrice stilled.
"You looked really hot tonight, Bea."
Beatrice expelled a breath. "Oh."
"Yeah. I know you exclusively wear turtlenecks when you're not in your uniform, but this turtleneck, like, rocked."
Beatrice swallowed thickly. "Thank you, Ava. You looked… nice too."
Ava grinned.
Beatrice tried not to pay attention to how Ava's hand was still grasped around hers, nor how it squeezed gently now.
"Thanks, Beatrice. I'm—" and for a moment Ava looked away, a shadow of regret passing over her face. She worried her bottom lip. "I'm sorry for getting a little too rowdy. I know I pulled you away from a night of studying and—and you didn't have much fun. I just thought that you needed a break, and we could dance, and play games, but then JC started—"
"It's okay, Ava." Beatrice unhooked her hand from the other girl's and stood. "Try and get some sleep, okay? We have Mass tomorrow morning."
Ava looked down at Beatrice's hand, which now dangled by her side. "Okay. Night, Beatrice."
"Goodnight, Ava."
...
Beatrice often looked forward to Sunday Mass. The girls would make their way over to the cathedral that graced the other hill of their little town. From a birds eye view, Saint Areala's School for Girls was on one end, atop a hill that had a winding path down to the village roads, and across from that at the other end, stood the Cat's Cradle. At least, that's what Camila liked to call it.
Waking Ava up at the crack of dawn was something Beatrice was not looking forward to, however. Before even bothering to coax her awake, she found a spare Ibuprofen packet and bottle of water to give to her when she awoke, and went about her morning routine with her usual grace and calm. She saw Camila in the bathroom, who gave her a kind smile and tried to hip check her on the way out. Reflexively, Beatrice dodged it, and then apologised guiltily when Camila pouted at her.
Upon returning to her room, Ava had managed to end up on the floor.
Beatrice took a calming breath before approaching. She tried nudging her with her foot, gently. She whispered, "Psst, Ava."
No response.
Beatrice hiked her shin-length skirt up to kneel on the floor. She poked Ava's arm with the end of her toothbrush, but to no avail.
"Ava," she said, with a little more fortitude, yet Ava continued to snore softly; mouth open, drooling.
Ah, Beatrice thought. She'd heard of this trick. She took her forefinger and thumb and squeezed Ava's nose for a few seconds before the girl came rocketing up for air, eyes wide as saucers.
Beatrice snatched her hand away and hid it behind her back.
"Ava. You're awake."
"Beatrice. Oh my God.“ Ava gasped, ”It was like I couldn't breath for a second. That's weird, right? Did I die?“
Beatrice cleared her throat. "No."
"You think I've got spiders up there? Blocking my airflow?"
"Spiders?"
"In my nostrils." Ava tilted her head up so Beatrice could check.
"I don't think you have spiders in your nostrils."
"Well, can't you at least take a look?"
Beatrice was about to entertain this theory, when Ava suddenly snapped her head down and looked fearful.
"I have a headache."
"Yes, that follows-"
"They’ve gotten to my brain."
Beatrice exhaled. "Take some pain medication. I left water and Ibuprofen on your bedside table, but you ought to hurry up. We leave for Mass in 15."
"Ibuprofen isn't gonna help when I've got spiders-"
"It was me who held your nose! It wakes people up if they can't breathe!"
Ava choked on her water, "What?"
"I—was trying to get you awake, and I've read that blocking airflow is a guaranteed way of waking someone up. I tried nudging you, I tried poking you, I tried calling your name. Nothing. You were out."
"So you tried to kill me."
"No!"
Despite Beatrice's protests, Ava would not stop chattering on to Camila and Mary about how she was rooming with her attempted murderer, and how she was fearing for her life as they made their way up to Sunday Mass. The horde of Saint Areala's girls proceeded through town, swallowing the streets with blotches of navy and ugly, creamy white.
Lilith, whom Beatrice had not seen since last year, came tottering up beside them, head held high.
"Beatrice," Lilith acknowledged.
"Lilith," Beatrice did the same.
"Are you well?"
"I'm well-"
"I'm well too, thanks for asking," Mary jutted in, and Lilith glanced at her.
"That's good to hear. I was actually talking to Beatrice, but sure, you can join in too."
Beatrice felt Ava brush closer to her and whisper, "Who the fuck is she?"
"Language," Beatrice murmured, and fell back with Ava as Lilith and Mary continued bickering up ahead. "Lilith goes here."
“I've never seen her before."
"She's..." Beatrice winced, "And I hate to admit this, but she's kind of a big deal."
Ava rolled her eyes, "Ugh. I hate that those words even came out of your mouth. How?"
"She comes from a very long line of Head Girls, and her parents basically funded the whole renovation of the school a few years back."
"Okay, so? What has she done for this school?"
Beatrice looked ahead at Lilith, who was gesturing rudely to Mary. "I'm not sure."
"Are Head Girl positions open?"
"I-" and Beatrice felt fearful for a moment. "Yes."
A sly grin split Ava's lips. "Cool."
"Ava.“ Beatrice turned to look at her. ”What are you planning?“
"Oh, nothing. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it."
It turns out, Beatrice should have worried her pretty little head about it.
When the End of the Month assembly rolled around, Beatrice was sat at the very back of the hall with Camila and Mary beside her. Ava was nowhere to be seen. Beatrice craned her neck over to look at the throngs of students who were filing into their seats, yet Ava had still not appeared. Beatrice was worried, and feared the worst: that Ava had managed to lock herself in the toilets again.
Camila brushed her hand over Beatrice's and gave her a comforting smile. "I'm sure she's fine. She learnt her lesson last time."
Beatrice looked at Camila with doubt. "I'm not sure. Those locks can be quite finicky."
Before she could leave to try and rescue Ava from a lonely demise in a Catholic Boarding school's toilet cubicle, Mother Superion came marching onto the stage, one hand tucked professionally behind her back, other hand holding her cane, shoulders taut and menacing. The Fear of God, as usual, struck Beatrice at the sight of her and her cane in all her Catholic glory. Ava was still nowhere to be seen.
"Attention." Mother Superion's booming voice forced everyone to a standstill. Not a murmur escaped.
With practised drama, Mother Superion slowly paced the edge of the stage, taking a moment to glower at the unfortunate girls sitting in the front rows. Her gaze then roamed across the room and snaked its way to the back row where Beatrice and her troupe sat, and Beatrice could swear she looked directly into her eyes and scowled.
"As I am sure you are all aware, today we shall be presenting the candidates for this year's Head Girl."
Oh. Beatrice’s eyes widened. Oh no.
"I have no doubt that, using your sound and intelligent minds, together you shall collaborate on choosing a rightful successor to last year's Head Girl, Shannon, who proved to be an elite choice and led this school to a resounding victory against the Boys," with this last word, she darkened, as if the mention of boys of any kind was the same as taking the Lord’s name in vain. "And she also provided us with our best A-level results to date."
She smiled, all teeth. "Truly, I implore you, fine girls of Saint Areala's, to really think about the power of your vote. And vote well.
"Thus," she magicked a neatly folded sheet of paper from her sleeve. As the girls stilled with bated breath, she unravelled the list of candidates.
"Crimson," she called, her resonant voice reaching all four corners of the Great Hall.
With her wicked grin and plaited pig tails, Crimson came bouncing up the stage with her hands behind her back. Mother Superion didn’t deign to give her a look.
"Lara."
A petite blonde girl who wore her skirt 2 inches below the necessary length, shuffled onto the stage, hands and knees positively quaking. She nodded at Mother Superion, and Mother Superion stared blankly back.
"Lilith."
Lilith traipsed up the stairs sensibly. She nodded with practised grace to Mother Superion, almost curtsied, actually, and made her way over to the line-up of girls. There was that ever-present smirk at her lips, and Beatrice saw Mary cross her arms in her periphery.
Mother Superion almost seemed to stutter for a moment, eyes glazing over as she looked at the final name on her list. Beatrice held her breath.
"Ava," she called, and tucked the list back into her sleeve.
Beatrice watched in slow motion horror as Ava, who since the beginning of the year had begun rolling up her skirt above her knee, never had her top button done, and wore her tie like a loose suggestion, skipped up the stairs, bowed to Mother Superion, and gave a Queen's wave to the crowd as she assumed her spot besides Lilith.
Whispers immediately began to rise amongst the lower years. Beatrice could only look on in terror.
Mother Superion tapped her cane thrice on the stage. Silence fell. "As is customary, the candidates will now say a word or two about why they believe they are the best choice for Saint Areala's, and what they hope to accomplish during their year in power."
Beatrice had been paying minute attention to Ava throughout this, so could not have missed Ava's thick gulp, nor the way her entire body froze at the realization that she probably should have prepared a speech.
Crimson stepped forward towards the very centre of the stage with her head held high. She spoke in her curled Irish accent, "I deserve to be Head Girl, because I've got the stomach for it. I've got the craic for it. These other girls here," she gestured dismissively behind her, "don't have the spirit, nor the power, nor the terror that I bring. If you want the teachers to listen to you, I'm who you ought to vote for." She then rose her hands and made a hashtag by overlapping her fingers. "Vote for Crimson! She'll bring blood and God's glory to Areala's name!"
Scattered applause. Crimson's troupe who sat clumped together in the back left, whooped and cheered loudly.
The next girl's name escaped Beatrice's memory as she approached the centre of the stage, stumbling to avoid Crimson. She spoke. "My... um. My name is Lara."
"Speak up, we can't hear you!" Someone shouted from the crowd.
Lara cleared her throat. Her huge coke bottle glasses magnified the way her eyes flitted from side to side. "I..." she swallowed, and, in a movement that impressed Beatrice, assumed a power pose and puffed out her chest. She forced a broad smile onto her face and she spoke again. "I, Lara, swear to bring honour to our Areala’s School for Girls! I swear we shall best the GCSE and A-level exam results from last year, and that bullies," she swivelled and pointed a finger at Crimson, "Shall stake their claim over this school no longer!"
The overall response had been better for this unknown than it had for Crimson, and Beatrice noticed with mirth that the redhead was tapping her feet and looking positively murderous.
Lilith came forward. Any cheers subsided, and instead an awed silence came over the room. Mary shifted in her seat.
"Girls," called Lilith, face open with a benevolent expression. She clasped a hand over her heart. "I am here today, for you. I am here today, for every single one of you, and every single hope, dream, wish, that you have for this school. I am here to be your voice." She curled the hand that was over her heart into a strong fist. "My mother, and my mother's mother, and my mother's mother's mother, were Head Girls here. This is in my blood. This is my divine ordinance. I will lead us to victory, and I will guide you every step of the way!" With her final words, the fist dropped to Lilith's side, and she stood mightily, showered in cheers and applause.
Beatrice could not help the dread that coiled in her stomach watching Ava glance nervously at Lilith and the audience.
Lilith resumed her position at the back, and Ava stepped forward into the light.
Beatrice held her breath. Ava stood still for a moment, her wide eyes cresting over every student in the room.
"Hi," she said shakily, yet below it there was a fierceness to her voice. A determination. Beatrice felt a shiver go down her spine. "I'm Ava Silva.
"I'm new here. I started in September. Maybe that doesn't make me the most qualified, but, I've been to other schools. I've not been trapped in this little bubble that you guys have been in, for all your life. Did you know, in most schools, that the radiators work?" Ava let loose an awkward chuckle. "I don't know about you guys, but every night I am freezing."
A murmur of agreement rose from the audience.
"You know," Ava shrugged, "I've actually heard that some rooms here do have heating. Pretty crazy, right? So... why don't they all work? Why do only certain kids, like, say, Lilith, keep getting those rooms with the extra plug sockets and the toasty warmth of a functional radiator?
"I think it's not right. I think it's not right that the quality of living is so unequal amongst the student body. We are Saint Areala's Girls!" Ava declared, eyes catching the stage light, "We deserve the best! We deserve radiators, and tender chicken! We deserve faucets in our bathrooms that don't leak! We deserve lights that don't flicker ominously in the hallways! We deserve locks on toilet doors that don't break every 3 days! We deserve better!"
The crowd was rippling with excitement, and Beatrice had to admit she was leaning forward in her chair.
"I vow, to you all, that I will be the voice that brings change to this school. Viva la revolution!"
As Mother Superion brought a hand to her forehead, the audience erupted into gleeful cheers. Ava stood, grinning, soaking up the praise and chaos she’d just wrought.