sparks fly [toni shalifoe, the wilds]

and i go back to december all the time

Grace dumped her guitar case on a shelf in the music block and dashed outside to the tennis courts, just in time for the bell to chime 2 o'clock. She knew that she'd make it to her tennis lessons by the skin of her teeth and hoped to God that Miss Rinder was in a better mood that she usually was. 

Panting, she made it just as Miss Rinder came over the hill from the main building. The crisp December air was thin as she breathed in shakily, and Grace was infinitely grateful she wasn't going to be playing. Her best friend, Jessica jogged over to her with an amused look on her face. 

"I'd say we should be partners, but it appears your kit's gone 'missing' again," Jessica giggled, emphasising the word 'missing' with air quotes. Grace grinned at her fancy best friend, who started fiddling with her expensive racquet. 

"I don't even like tennis, it's like a diss to badminton or squash," Grace insisted, rolling her eyes as she saw Miss Rinder sigh at her out of the corner of her eyes. Grace turned round to face the dark-haired woman. 

"Grace Thirwall, must it be so difficult for you to come equipped to the lesson?"  The older woman quipped, raising an eyebrow at her and she dumped the tennis kit on the side of the court. Grace remained quiet, fearing a detention would tip herself and her parents over the edge. 

"Your Daddy is a top investor at this school, you ought to ask him to invest in some tennis attire." Grace's face fell and her cheeks turned slightly red. She felt Fatin Jadmani smirk at her, causing an invisible burn in Grace's back. 

"To the prep hall, Grace. Pull this stunt again and it'll cost you a break time. Do I make myself clear?" Miss Rinder continued, and Grace nodded swiftly before shuffling off the courts and through the gates to the main school.

Screw Miss Rinder for bringing up her Father. She didn't know which county he was in, she was in no position to ask him to buy her any kit. It's not exactly like Grace didn't have the kit though, she just hated sport. She wasn't good at it, and it made her seem more vulnerable. That's something she had learned from her distant Father- keep your walls up, and vulnerability to a minimum. 

She headed to the prep hall in the main school building, en route to her locker on the top floor. Her school wasn't huge, as it only accommodated for around 500 people. However, where it lacked in size, it made up for in architecture. The building was ancient, made originally in the 1930s. Stories about nun tunnels and suicides floated around students like the ghosts of those before them, which didn't excite the students as much as tourists these days. 

The school had a swimming pool, a chapel complete with an organ loft and a grand staircase which was something out of Hogwarts. This was all Grace had ever known, as she was put in private school right from her infant days. Sometimes she wondered what it was like at state school and sometimes she envied that freedom that would surely come with it. After all, all the money in the world could buy the best education but it couldn't buy love.

She stopped by the bathroom outside the prep hall, placing her books on a shelf outside the bathroom. Grace had taken the retorts that Miss Rinder had said and let them take over her brain. She kept hearing the words "investor" and "Daddy" and started unpicking the image of her father in her mind - an old, white, blonde man who reeked of old money. Well, underneath that she knew the real guy that he was, someone who was-

Suddenly, a stall door was thrown open with a clanging noise and a dark haired girl stomped out. Grace jumped, her eyes clinging to the brunette within an inch of her life. She was wearing the school's hockey kit... maybe wearing it slightly too well. The maroon top clenched in all the right places, which she wore with the buttons undone. Grace's imagination momentarily wandered like her eyes, which pondered over her slender legs barely covered by the navy skort. 

"See something you like? Because I'm not into the whole 'experimental rich girl' type." She spoke harshly, kissing her teeth afterwards.

The sharp American accent snapped Grace out of her daze, and she was momentarily unable to respond. She tore her eyes away from the girl's small, freckled face and her brain clicked into gear once more. 

"You're not permitted to wear kit indoors. You don't sound like you're from around here, maybe you didn't know." She spoke almost robotically. Grace kicked herself internally. 

The other brunette chuckled, running her hands underneath the tap. "That's a change in tone," the soap dispersed into her rough and veiny hands, "this fucking t-shirt cost me a paycheck, I'm not buying those fucking-"

"Tracksuit bottoms"

"Yeah, I'm not buying your tracksuit bottoms." The girl cocked her head, stepping closer to Grace. She focused on a badge that Grace wore on her lapel for a moment before smirking. 

"So, what the fuck's a prefect? Is it one of those societies? Let me guess, my Daddy has to own half this joint to be let in?" The girl tugged on the badge, her fingers briefly touching Grace's blazer.

"Yeah, we don't let lesbians in." Grace snapped in a desperate attempt to preserve her invulnerability. The other girl's face fell for a minute, the wit cowering in her green eyes. She latched onto both sides of Grace's lapels, digging in with her sharp nails.

"It's always the 'straight' girls isn't it? You jealous of me or something, prep school? You're probably destined to marry your fucking cousin, and now you're taking it out on me."

Her words shocked her, like knives to flesh. The girl was right, Grace already envied her and she'd known her all of two minutes. It was scary how accurate she was reading her, as if she'd-

"Both of you, come with me NOW!"