Winterview, a sprawling city lying on the west coast of America, the very epicentre of trade and commerce, inhabited by businessmen and dreamers alike. It possesses the best education facility in a one hundred mile radius, it is the largest commercial area in the country and it has some of the best night life on offer. By all means a desirable place to live, right? Well, not for everyone.

Bonnibel sighed, resting her head against the window of the estate car as she watched the motorway railings pass by in a blur of grey. The sky too was grey and a dense mist hung over the road ahead, creating an air of gloom to match the young woman's mood.

"What's the matter, Princess?" asked her father who was driving. He saw his daughter's glum expression in the rear view mirror.

"Why did we have to move?" asked Bonnibel, "I liked my old school."

"It won't be so bad," replied her father, "The school here is supposed to be really good and I'm sure you'll make lots of new friends." Bonnibel said nothing but returned to looking out the window. Yeah, she'd make friends, but who was to say that they wouldn't move again just as she got settled. This wasn't a new experience for her. She and her family had moved five times during her lifetime and each time it had been the same old story. As she continued to look, Winterview slowly started to materialise out of the mist. The air in the car was stuffy and Bonnibel opened the window, feeling the cool damp air on her face, whipping back her pink hair. Her father didn't really approve of her shock of pink dyed hair but he had given up on convincing her otherwise.

Already she could hear the hum and buzz of the city, however faint. Car horns blared at one another, vents of the irritated drivers within the metal casings and from somewhere she could hear the steady chug of a train rattling along the tracks. It had started to rain which only added to her dreary mood.

At last they reached the city and the sounds became louder. Feeling irritated, Bonnibel closed the window and leaned back in the seat. She picked up her mp3 player and put the headphone buds in her ears. She scrolled through the list of songs until she found one of her favourites before closing her eyes, forgetting the world around her.

The next time she opened her eyes the car had come to a halt outside a large red brick house with a gabled black tile roof and ornately framed windows. It was practically a mansion but it looked old and, to Bonnibel's eyes, rather foreboding.

Her footsteps echoed in the foyer as she carried her suitcase into the house. As she had surmised it was indeed old. A great many paintings hung from the walls of the foyer and there was a bell pull next to the grand staircase.

"Your room's upstairs, sweetie," said her mother, Nessabel. Bonnibel followed her mother upstairs and along a corridor lit by ornate lamps made to look like old gas wall sconces. Her room was relatively large with a window that looked out over the vast garden. In the centre of the garden was a fountain and around it were several benches. Bonnibel put her suitcase down on the bed and crossed the room to the window. Nessabel rested her hand on Bonnibel's shoulder. "I know you miss your friends," she said gently, "But your father's right. It won't be so bad here. And you can always write to them." Bonnibel nodded. That was true.

After a while Nessabel left the room and Bonnibel heard her mother's high-heeled footsteps receding down the corridor. What if her dad was right? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She flopped down on the bed and unzipped the suitcase, rummaging around until she found what she was looking for; her journal. For all intents and purposes it was a diary but Bonnibel preferred the term journal as it sounded, to her mind, much more organised and didn't give off the same dramatic teen vibe that clung to the word diary. She fished about in her purse for a pen and began writing:

Dear Journal,

So I've just arrived in Winterview. Dad wasn't kidding when he said it was big; it's huge. I hope I don't get lost too often. I'm going to miss my friends a lot but mum's right, I can still write to them. And maybe they can come visit during the holidays or something. School starts tomorrow and already I feel the same nerves creeping up on me again. I wonder what the people there are like. I've decided something. I don't have very high hopes of staying here so I've decided that I'm going to try and not get too close to anyone because the same thing will only happen again. I've had enough of leaving those I care about behind. Anyway, it's no good dwelling on it now.

She put the pen down and lay back, letting her head sink down into the pink pillow. Her eyelids began to droop as the long day's travelling finally began to catch up with her.

She awoke the following morning to the beeping of the alarm on her phone. She sat up and stretched, scrubbing a hand over her tired face and through her dishevelled hair. She looked down at herself and her tired expression turned to one of dismay when she noticed that she was still wearing her clothes from yesterday. She got up and crossed the room to the en suite bathroom where she shed her clothing before stumbling into the shower. The water came on hot and she yelped, leaping backwards from the scalding downpour. She twiddled the dial on the wall and waited for the water to cool before stepping into the water once more.

Once she had finished and her hair was bundled up in a towel she took out her favourite outfit from the suitcase. It was a light blue dress with several layers to the skirt and a light pink cardigan with frills around the collar and cuffs. She slipped on a pair of white high heels before running a brush through her damp pink hair. She plugged in the hairdryer after a lengthily search for a suitable socket and began drying her hair.

Once her hair was dry she slung a beige satchel over her shoulder and made her way down the corridor to the grand staircase. The house still felt very unfamiliar and it took her a few minutes to find the kitchen. Peppo, their butler, was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The smell of bacon and eggs greeted her as she sat down at the polished wooden table.

"Good morning, Bonnie," said Peppo as he set down a plate in front of her. Peppo wasn't his real name of course but Bonnie had nicknamed him that because he always smelt of the peppermints he carried around in his pockets. As Bonnibel's parents were frequently away on business it had often been Peppo's responsibility to look after her when she was a young girl. Of course this was hardly necessary now and he had now adopted the role of a confidant, someone the young woman felt able to share her worries with.

"Are we going to be staying here long?" she asked as she ate. Peppo knew what the young woman was thinking.

"We should be here for at least a couple of years," he replied. He did not, of course, know how long Bonnibel's family planned on staying here or indeed if they planned on staying long term but he did his best to sound optimistic.

"Do you want me to drive you to school?" he offered.

"That's okay, Peppo," replied Bonnibel, "I think I'll get the bus. I'll need to start learning my way around this place."

"Alright," said Peppo, "But you have my number if you get stuck, right?"

"Yep," smiled Bonnibel, "Thanks for the breakfast, I'll see you this afternoon."

"Good luck on your first day," Peppo called after her. Luck, that was exactly what the young woman needed.

The school was an imposing square building with a single large glass panel on the front of the main building. Bonnibel stood at the wrought iron gates for a moment. She could see some of the students standing in the grounds or hurrying towards the main doors. A few older boys were slouching by a bronze statue of a rearing stag, the school's symbol, while several girls stood in a group near the main doors. One of them had a bouffant of purple hair piled up on top of her head and it looked like she was the centre of the attention as she relayed whatever crucial information she had gathered to her awed listeners. Bonnibel made her way past them and through the sliding doors.

The school's interior was much more welcoming. The foyer, with its high ceiling, sofas lined up against the wall and signs hanging from the ceiling put her in mind of an airport. Off to her left was the reception desk where a woman with red curly hair sat looking over some class registers. She walked over to the desk. The woman looked up when she heard her approach. "Hello, can I help you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just moved here and this is my first day," replied Bonnibel, "Can you tell me where I'm supposed to go?"

"Okay, I'll just need your name," said the woman.

"Bonnibel Buddenhagen," replied Bonnibel.

"Let's see, Bonnibel, Bonnibel," murmured the woman as she scanned the computer screen before her, "Ahh, here we go. You're in room D106. Just follow the main corridor until you reach the D corridor, there's a brown sign. Turn left and go down the corridor. It's the first door on your left."

"Thank you," said Bonnibel before walking down the main corridor in the direction the woman indicated. It didn't take her long to find the D corridor and she looked in through the small window. Most of the class were there already. She took a seat next to a girl with close cut turquoise hair with blonde roots. She was wearing a hoodie that was a few shades darker than her hair and she was playing a videogame.

"Looks like Pingu's late again," said the girl, looking up from her videogame.

"Pingu?" replied Bonnibel, looking puzzled.

"Oh," said the girl in surprise as though noticing Bonnibel properly for the first time, "You must be the new girl he told us about. I'm Beatrice but everyone calls me Bea." She held out her hand which Bonnibel shook.

"I'm Bonnibel," she replied, "Who's Pingu?"

"Mr. Petrikov," explained Bea, "He's our form teacher."

"Why do you call him Pingu?" asked Bonnibel, now genuinely curious.

"Take a look at his desk," replied Bea, "See all those penguin ornaments?" Bonnibel nodded, "He's absolutely obsessed with penguins so we call him Pingu." As she finished her sentence the door opened and a man with wild white hair and a bushy beard walked in carrying a suitcase. He looked up when he saw Bonnibel.

"Ahh, you must be the new student," he said with a grin, putting down his suitcase next to the desk, "Why don't you come up to the front of the class and introduce yourself?" Bonnibel got up and walked up to the desk.

"Hi, I'm Bonnibel," she said a little shyly. She didn't like getting up in front of people and talking.

"Bonnibel who?" prompted Mr. Petrikov.

"Bonnibel Buddenhagen," added Bonnibel. There were a few sniggers at this, another thing she was more than used to. Her surname was German in origin and more than a little longwinded.

"Now, I want you all to give Bonnibel a warm welcome and show her the ropes," said Mr. Petrikov as Bonnibel sat down."

"Hey there," said a voice behind her. She turned around to see the blonde haired girl wearing a rainbow turtleneck top and blue denim jeans, "I'm Lindsay, Lindsay Rainey."

"Hi, I'm Bonnibel," smiled Bonnibel. She turned back to her desk as she heard a sheet of paper being placed there. It was her lesson timetable.

"What's your first class?" asked Lindsay. Bonnibel scanned it quickly.

"History," she replied, "With...Mr. Death? Is that his real name?"

"Yeah, but he pronounces it D-ath," explained Bea, "That's what me and Lindsay have first as well. We'll show you where the classroom is."

Mr. Petrikov took the register and just as he had finished reading out the announcements the bell rung, signalling the start of classes.

"Okay, history's on the top floor," said Bea, "The stairs are this way." They followed Bea along the corridor.

"So, where are you from, Bonnibel?" asked Lindsay.

"I moved here from Aldoak," replied Bonnibel.

"Aldoak?" said Bea, instantly interested, "Isn't that where they held the last Cavecraft convention?"

"Yeah, that's right," replied Bonnibel.

"Did you get the chance to go?" asked Bea. Bonnibel shook her head.

"No, my parents were away that week and I was staying with a friend," she explained.

"That's a shame," replied Bea, "It was supposed to be really good. I was supposed to go but that would be the week a massive hurricane hit."

"You get hurricanes here?" said Bonnibel in surprise.

"Yeah, nearly every autumn," replied Bea, "I'm surprised you didn't know already. Winterview's famous for its storms."

"I guess that's one detail my parents forgot to mention when we moved here," sighed Bonnibel with a wry smile.

"Don't worry, our city's well prepared for that sort of thing," Bea reassured her, "We have evacuation points and most of the houses are reinforced against high winds."

"I haven't seen a hurricane since I got here," added Lindsay, "Of course, that was only a year ago."

At last they reached the classroom where a bunch of students were already gathered.

"Here we are," said Lindsay, "Mr. Death should be along soon. He's usually pretty on time."

A few minutes later a man with pale skin and high cheek bones approached them carrying a stack of books. He had thinning hair almost the same shade as his skin which at first made him appear bald and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on his nose. He unlocked the classroom door and the class filed in.

"Alright, class, open your textbooks to page 32," instructed Mr. Death.

"Sir, Bonnibel doesn't have a text book," said Lindsay. Immediately all eyes were on the newcomer and Bonnibel felt her face starting to glow pink.

"Did she forget it? And can Bonnibel speak for herself?" asked Mr. Death.

"N-no, Sir, I just moved here yesterday," Bonnibel spoke up, "This is my first day."

"Well then, as this is your first lesson we'll recap what we've learnt over the past month," he said as he passed a textbook to Bonnibel. He turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk. "Alright class, this month we have been learning about the Industrial Revolution." He wrote the words, 'Industrial Revolution' on the blackboard before turning back to face the class. "Who can tell me when the revolution started? Yes, Matthew."

"The 1760s," replied a boy with brown hair and freckles.

"And where did it start?" asked Mr. Death.

"Great Britain," piped up a girl with bright orange hair.

"Yes, Fina, correct," replied Mr. Death, "But who can tell me exactly what the industrial revolution was?" This question demanded a long answer so, like with many classes before it, there was a reluctant silence. No one wanted to speak for that long.

"Come on, we only learnt about it three weeks ago," said Mr. Death, "Anyone?" After a few minutes he sighed and turned to the blackboard. "Very well," he said, "The Industrial Revolution was a period of transition from hand production methods to machine based manufacturing, new chemical and iron production processes, more efficient water power and the increasing use of steam power. Anything else?"

"People started using coal?" said Bea.

"Correct, and it was the time when many machine tools were developed," continued Mr. Death, "Those were the benefits. But what were the disadvantages?"

And so the class continued with the teacher continuing to ask questions of increasing complexity and notes were taken. As the end of class drew near Mr. Death turned back to face the class.

"As you already know there is a test on this at the end of next week," he reminded them. This reminder was met with a groan as students bemoaned either the fact that there was a test at all or that they had forgotten to revise.

The bell rang and the students made their way out of the classroom.

"Well, it's break time now so we're going to head down to the common room, wanna come with us?" asked Lindsay. Bonnibel smiled.

"Sure," she replied.

"And we can get something to eat," continued Lindsay, "They just installed some new vending machines."

The common room was a large circular room that backed out onto the courtyard. Benches were clustered together in groups, clearly separating the students into their associated cliques. Lindsay made a beeline for the vending machines while Bonnibel and Bea sat down on a bench near the edge of the room.

"How are you liking it here?" asked Bea as she took out her games console.

"It seems really nice," replied Bonnibel, "I haven't had much of a chance to explore yet though."

"Well, me, Lindsay and Lily-Sue often go into town," said Bea, "They do their shopping and then we usually go to a comic book store or two. I'm sure they wouldn't mind you joining us next time."

"I'd like that," smiled Bonnibel.

"Do you play many videogames?" asked Bea.

"A few," replied Bonnibel, "Cavecraft and Super Lucio Bros."

"Did you get the newest cave craft update?" asked Bea.

"The Biome update? Yeah, I downloaded it a week ago," replied Bonnibel.

"I see you two are already getting along," observed Lindsay as she joined them, "Hope you haven't left me too far behind." She smiled.

"Hey, I just asked Bonnibel if she'd like to join us next time we go into town," said Bea.

"Great idea," Lindsay smiled, "It'll give us a chance to show you around the town."

"Lindsay here knows the town like the back of her hand," said Bea, "And she hasn't even been here as long as I have."

"Where are you from?" asked Bonnibel.

"Winterview born and bred," replied Bea, "My parents own a computer store in the centre of town."

"What do your parents do?" asked Lindsay.

"They're businesspeople," replied Bonnibel, "They look out for new products to sell and stuff." She sipped her cola before changing the subject.

"I heard here has great night life," she said, "What's it like?"

"Well, most of us go down to the night club on the High Street," replied Lindsay, "It's very lively and they're lots of dancing. They even hold a karaoke night sometimes."

"The club's got quite a reputation for both great parties and music," added Bea, "Sometimes they get local bands to perform there." Bonnibel smiled, she liked the sound of this night club.

Before long it was time for their next class: triple biology.

* * *

One and a half hours later they met up and made their way down to the canteen. The room was already full of the early lunch hustle and bustle, students queuing to be the first to the food being served up at the counter.

"Where's Lily-Sue?" asked Lindsay, "She said she was going to meet us here."

"She's probably off gossiping again," replied Bea.

"What was that about gossiping?" asked a voice behind them. Bonnibel turned to see the same girl she had spotted earlier with the bouffant of purple hair. She had a star shaped hair clip in her hair and she was wearing a purple string top and skirt, a pair of black fishnet tights and black stilettos.

"Oh, hey LSP," said Lindsay, smiling a little sheepishly.

"And who's this?" asked LSP.

"This is Bonnibel," replied Lindsay, "She just transferred here today."

"Hey there, the name's Lily-Sue but everyone calls me LSP," said LSP. She joined them at the table.

As LSP and Lindsay became engaged in a discussion involving something or other school related and Bea became increasingly engrossed in her videogame, Bonnibel allowed her eyes to roam about the room. Her gaze fell upon a group of five girls dressed in punk rock style clothing. Among them was a girl with waist length black hair that was shaved off on one side.

"Who are they?" she asked Bea, pointing over at them.

"Ah, they're the Wildcats," said Bea with a stern expression, "The one on the left with the green bangs is Tessa, better known as Shrieky for good reason, the one next to her is Gina although everyone knows her as Gecko. The one with the bright green mop of hair is Van Rach and the one next to her is Willamina but she prefers to be called Will."

"Who's the one in the middle?" asked Bonnibel.

"That's their, leader, Marceline," replied Bea, "I advise that you stay away from them though, especially Marceline."

"Why's that?" asked Bonnibel.

"They're always getting into trouble and playing pranks," replied Bea, "And everyone here knows that Marceline's the meanest out of their group."

"Bea, that's a little harsh," said Lindsay, "I know Marceline doesn't come across as the nicest but I think she's just misunderstood."

"Yeah, about as misunderstood as Sonic 06," replied Bea.

There was an uncomfortable silence at this. Bonnibel wanted to ask what Lindsay meant but decided it could wait until later.

It wasn't until near the end of art that Bonnibel got a change to question Lindsay further.

"What did you mean earlier?" she asked.

"About what?" replied Lindsay as she continued painting the still life the teacher had set out for them.

"About Marceline being misunderstood," said Bonnibel. Lindsay paused for a moment, setting her brush down on the easel.

"She went through a bad time a couple of years ago," explained Lindsay, "She came out to her dad and apparently he got really angry, practically disowned her. She'd already lost her mother several years before so when she fell out with her dad that was the final straw. She got herself an apartment on the outskirts of town. She always was a little rough around the edges but it got worse after that." Bonnibel listened as Lindsay continued. "I sorta admire her really. To be out on your own at that age takes guts. And she's had to move a few times recently but no one knows why. She's not the sort of person who talks about her problems easily. But you're probably best to stick to Bea's advice for now, until you get to know here better." She resumed painting. Bonnibel turned back to her own easel, now more curious than ever.

At last it was time to go home. Bonnibel made her way down to the bus stop and got on the bus back home. It was starting to rain and a strong wind was blowing in from over the sea. She couldn't help but think about what Bea said about the hurricanes. She certainly hoped she'd missed them for this year.

At last she got home and made her way up to her room. She picked up her diary and began writing.

Dear Journal,

Well, so much for what I wrote earlier. But maybe this time around things will turn out better. I've already made some new friends and everyone seems really nice. The school can be a little confusing to get around but I'm getting the hang of it. I was only late to one class but that was art so I didn't mind. I don't think the teacher really minded either.
I wonder what Marceline's really like. Bea says I should stay away while Lindsay reckons she's just misunderstood. I'm really curious now. Oh well, I guess I'll find out in time.