Riverview School For Girls [GxG]

eight

Willow enjoyed the walk into the village. It was a two mile strip of an endless country road, narrow and muddy, just wide enough for a car to squeeze through, though none ever did. The surrounded trees were stripped bare by February's cruelty, and the naked branches rattled in the icy wind. It was Sunday morning, and Willow was alone.

It gave her plenty of time to think, as she trudged through the mud, sharp wind on her cheeks, coat billowing around her. She thought about her friends, mostly. About how she had spent most of the previous day avoiding them, curled into a dusty corner of the castle, her head in a book, listening to the rain on the stone walls that sealed her in. She hadn't been avoiding her friends for any particular reason other than the fact that they took up so much space. They were her entire life, to the point where she didn't know who she was without them anymore. That's why she had hidden from them yesterday. That's why she had snuck out of the dorm before any of them had woken up this morning.

She thought about other things on her walk, too. Almond eyes and messy hair. Ripped tights and Dr. Martens. Cigarettes and rings. She tried not to think about these things, but she did. And out here, completely alone, accompanied only by the misty orange sun rising over the treetops, she let herself indulge in these thoughts. Let them linger. Let them feel good. And as she neared the village, she pushed them away again, as if they were never there.

It had started to rain. Icy wet droplets running down her rosy cheeks, slipping past her collar, and dampening her golden locks. She tightened her coat around her trembling body, regretting leaving her umbrella in her dorm. The wind was picking up too, blowing through her hair and throwing it into the sky as a mess of tangled curls. She realised, with a trickle of dread running down her spine, that this was more than rain; it was a storm. And she was caught in it, bare and helpless, without an umbrella.

She contemplated heading back, but she banished that thought as quickly as it came. She had walked two miles down a lonely country lane — she wasn't about to make that journey again. She would do what she came here to do. And if she had to, she would simply wait the storm out.

When Willow reached the village, a wave of fond familiarity washed over her. The narrow cobbled streets, the neatly packed stone cottages lined up in orderly rows, windows spilling warm orange light. She passed the church, standing tall at the village's highest point, its steeple piercing through the mass of grey storm clouds, into the Heavens above. Around it were the cluster of homely village amenities; the butcher shop, the bakery, the post office where Riverview girls often lined up to receive packages from their families. She knew these streets well.

The rain grew heavier, the wind throwing her hair into her eyes, obscuring her vision. In a panic, she bolted under a bus stop, her clothes dripping wet, glasses foggy with raindrops. Once under the shelter, she rubbed her shivering hands together for warmth, then took off her glasses to wipe the lenses with the back of her sleeve.

"Holy shit! Blondie — that you?"

Willow's heart skipped a beat when she heard that familiar voice. A voice she hadn't known a week ago, but now heard echoing through every dream she had. She turned, slowly, eyes locking with a pair of soft brown ones, "Jordan." She said. It was all she could say. Any more and her voice would have given her away.

Willow tried not to let her gaze linger on Jordan too long, but it was difficult not to stare. Jordan was wearing denim jeans, flared at the ankles, pooling around a pair of blood red lace up boots. On top of that was a baggy knitted sweater vest with the collars of a shirt poking out at the top. There was a tangle of necklaces around her neck, and she had jammed safety pins into her pierced ears. A few stray black locks dipped into her eyes, which were smudged with eyeliner, and a woolly hat was tugged down past her forehead. Thrown on top of it all was an oversized jacket, swallowing her whole. She looked more comfortable, dressed in her own clothes, not clinging to resentment over a wonky tie or a blazer depicting the crest of a school she despised.