Clandestine °•❀•°

Chapter 1 The Prodigies

Sent from a second world country in Asia to a dreamy spot in Europe, I had anticipated this sort of luck as my level headed godmother was assigned to give short term lectures to a well known university in Bradford while I was bound to take lessons from a prestigious yet secluded preparatory high school located in the beautiful grounds of Haworth, Yorkshire. I wasn't the excellent kind of scholar most people expect but I'm an aspiring writer and wanted to learn more about the art of mind interpretation through writing. Opportunity was right on top of my head and painfully, I set my guilt aside as I was purposely chosen over a deserving one who had waited all her life for this chance. My godmother who was my mom's best friend, was a brilliant professor and was able to convince our school administrators that I should take the slot instead of my friend, Hanna. Of course, after it was announced, rumors roamed around... false things about me and my weaknesses, criticisms from people who knew nothing aside from my name and my face. They said that Hanna is intelligent and I'm just a school paper writer with strange ideas. Nothing charming and fascinating about what I write.

From what I was told before I stepped into the reality of the situation I'm about to barge in, the prep school was a commemorative breeding ground built for literature and artistic academes in memory of the famous Bronte sisters. Sure, Hanna can easily cope up with grammar... but what about with writing? will she ever produce such art in words? will they ever see her creativity? academic excellency and artistic creativity are different things. Both are rooted in intelligence but in a very different manner. I deserve to be here. They will listen and understand what I write and what I intend to interpret... this place is for people like me. Not for the over conceited Hanna who solve math problems in a minute or two.

"I hope you find what you're looking for...and regret it!"

She lashed out after the school director informed us that instead of her, me, a 'not so popular, known just for boorish writing and nothing more' student will be sent to Yorkshire England for a whole year exchange student program. I didn't comfort her...in spite of being friends for quite a long time. I guess it's time that I do something about Hanna's selfishness. I wanted her to see that not all things work the way she wants them to be. I know what I did will get me someday... or somehow I can do something about it. What's important for me at the moment, is to flourish my talent around people who understands. For me to grow... to be seen for what I can do.

My name is Basia and I'm an aspiring writer.

Sigel school of Literature Arts and Music, Haworth Yorkshire

The school orientation took forever. I felt my knees slightly wobble at the chilly weather as I walked around the huge and fancy school grounds which ironically caters a small number of elite students. From the grand maze garden in front of the prestigious dormitories to the music and art building followed by the literature area, was a picturesque paradise every deep souled person would love to look at. Every corner was an epitome of a classical European landmark. Beautiful, enchanting and inspiring, just an ideal place for artistic people. It left me awe stricken and drifting which made the head school mistress glare at me a couple of times during the orientation. I don't want to think that she was a racist but I undeniably stand out from the crowd. I'm the only Asian with a bit of foreign features...I guess I have to thank my great grand parents for their Spanish and German bloodline. Not perfectly blended but at least I won't be that 'different'.

My godmother left me under the Music head teacher's care who was her college buddy at Oxford. Ms. Helga O'Rian was like a goddess plucked out from one of the century old paintings at the hallways of the Elatha hall, where you can find the amiable art students of Sigel. She's overly feminine that she made me blush and consciously avert my eyes every single time. The aura radiating around her, brought me a terrible feeling. Suddenly I was thinking about beauty creams ,perfumes and all that preppy style, which I never seriously paid attention to before. Who would have thought that she's already in her mid forties?... from the flare of her red curls to her ivory skin, she was very Irish... terrifyingly beautiful. I couldn't stop thinking about how people here are different and why in the world are they amusingly close to perfection?... such a mystery for a normal girl like me, and a bit mind wracking. I expected senior high students who look normal... the geeky types...the ones who don't mind about fashion...the ones who focus merely on studying and brilliant ideas. To my dismay, every corner of this school screamed affluence. Especially the fashionable and poker faced students from Easnadh, the Music building.