Constructive criticism is highly valued for this story.

Inspired by a prompt from OTPPrompts on Tumblr.

Aside from the buzz of the radio the taxi driver had going, the air is heavy and silent and Amelia peers out the window and watches as the city slowly passes by. Cigarette stench hangs in the air, and it's almost nauseating, but she doesn't complain. Normally she would, but today, she just doesn't feel like talking.

Her phone is clenched in her hand that sits on her lap and every so often, she looks at it with desperation. Of course her now former girlfriend hasn't called or texted her. Why is she so surprised to find an empty screen? Even her 'friends' abandoned her. She supposes that's the way life works, and nobody really knew that Amelia liked girls until someone snapped a picture of her and her girlfriend kissing. And shared it on a social media website, where her parents saw.

Two weeks later after being isolated from everyone, her dad refusing to even look at her, let alone be in the same room, and her mother crying every goddamn day, they sat her down. They insisted on sending her to a boarding school, away from everyone. They claimed it was for her own good, that it's better education, away from everyone here, we love you Amelia.

And here she is, nearly a month later, in another country.

"Why the sour face?"

Amelia looks up, the sudden male voice, that's almost baritone, draws her from her thoughts, staring into the rear-view mirror but still seeing the reflection of the guys eyes.

"It's been a bad month," she finally answers, mostly in a mutter.

By now, they've left the large foreign city and have reached the rolling hills of the countryside and Amelia wonders just how far the school is. The driver gives her a sympathetic look, and she forces a smile.

It's nearly sundown when they finally arrive, and the first thing Amelia realizes that this school is a gated community, with walls surrounding the campus and the gates remind her of the stereotypical rich person's gates, made up of either silver or gold and they slowly swing open as the taxi pulls into the empty, nearby parking lot.

A large woman, dressed in black, comes, hurrying towards them. Amelia rolls her eyes as the driver rolls down the window.

"Amelia Jones, I presume?" She speaks breathlessly, hurriedly, and Amelia nods. "Good, good. Let's grab your stuff and I'll show you to your dormitory," Amelia takes her precious time on getting out of the car, the taxi driver is already out and grabbing her luggage from the trunk. When she's out, she stretches, gently cracking her back and finally, decides to help both of them. She lifts up a black bag and slings it over her shoulder, and grabs another, yanking out the handle.

With everything gathered, Amelia quietly thanks the driver, who nods and pats her on the head. "Good luck!" And with that, she's watching the taxi drive away and now, she has no way of escaping what looks to be a wretched school. The woman rambles about the rules and Amelia tunes her out.

While they walk, Amelia watches as they go past different buildings, possibly dorms or houses for the staff. The campus is spacious, though, with a few flower beds here and there, and the ground lush and green.

"We are in the residence quarters of the campus," the woman explains. "The houses are for the teachers and older students. Four to each house." Amelia nods, showing that she's listening. They soon arrive at one of the large, brick and stone dormitories that stands about five stories high.

"We normally don't accept students at this time of the year," The woman says as she punches in a code, Amelia finally tuning in. "But the Headmaster decided to be an exception since we had...an incident with a former student last year, and needed to fill in a bed." The red light that sits above the metal number pad turns green and the woman opens the door, allowing Amelia in first.

"When do you accept new students?"

"At the start of a new semester." That figures, Amelia thinks as she shoves her hands in the pockets of her shorts. "Your uniforms should be arriving within the next few days, and you'll be exempt from classes until they arrive, so you should be starting classes on Monday."

"That's lucky."

"We have a strict uniform policy," Amelia makes a humming noise, looking every which way. A few girls stop and stare at her with curiosity as they walk by. Some whisper, some plain ignore her. The hall way is narrow, and the floor is tan linoleum and the walls are plain, boring white. On her right side is a room that expands quite a bit, and she figures it's one of the community rooms. Otherwise, they're just basic wooden doors.

After a few turns, they finally arrive at a door with a red, paper maple leaf painted on it with Marguerite written in curly, large letters. The woman knocks three times, crisp and sharp. There's a pause, some rustling and the door finally opens, revealing a bespectacled girl standing there, in only a black tank top and a blue pair of pajama pants.

"A-ah, uh, how can I help you tonight, Sister?" The girl Amelia can only assume is Marguerite, asks, her voice quiet. She has to strain to even hear her.

Amelia hopes this isn't a Catholic school.

The woman smiles kindly, "Marguerite, this is your new roommate, Amelia Jones. I believe you were informed about her already?"

The girls eyes widen, and she opens the door more and steps aside. "O-of course! Uh, please excuse the mess." Amelia silently steps inside, the teacher following. She's surprised to see another girl in the room, sitting on what is probably Marguerite's bed. Some books spread out before her. "We were just studying for our test tomorrow. Um."

Marguerite quickly bustles about, pushing things aside and awkward picking up discarded clothes and books and tossing them into the small closet. Amelia sets her luggage aside, in an empty corner, still not really saying anything and squirming a bit under the other girl's inquisitive gaze. The girl on the bed is peering out from thin strands of light blonde hair, pink lips upturned in a small smile.

Marguerite finally stops kicking things around and shoving things and she forces a little giggle.

"I trust you can take it from here?"

"Yes, ma'am." Marguerite nods, and the teacher promptly closes the door. "She teaches religions and is kind of mean," Marguerite explains, after a moment, face still red. "Uh, m-make yourself at home. If you're hungry, the cafeteria is still open until ten."

Amelia only shrugs, "I think I'm going to go shower first." A pause. She doesn't recall seeing anything in the hall indicating bathrooms. "Er where-"

The girl on the bed points at the adjacent door. "Right through there," The cute girl has a thick accent, and Amelia wonders where she's from but doesn't ask. Instead, she forces a smile in thanks, and grabs the bag she had been carrying and heads through the door, flicking on the lights and silently shutting the door.