Hi, my name's Amy, it's short for Amelia. That's my real name, Amelia Scott. I don't like it, I don't use it and I don't answer to it. This is because they gave it to me. I hate everything about them so I hate the name. They are my biological parents. As soon as I turned twelve, they shipped me off to boarding school, I've never seen or heard from them since. I used to try to call them, back in my first year, but they had changed their numbers. So I tried the house phone, only to find out that they'd moved house. It ripped me apart, my heart shattered beyond repair, nowadays, the pieces have joined together with ice and I have turned cold. Turned into that sad fifteen year old who paints her nails black, smothers on black lip stick, paints her eyes like a badger, rips her school stockings and wears black and white striped arm warmers. That's me, the freak, emo kid that no one talks to. I like it that way. The teachers hate me, but the feeling is mutual, last year, they made us make a box full of childhood memories. It was a compulsory class assignment and they smiled as they forced me to do it. I made immediate plans to burn it, but I didn't get a chance until yesterday. I was successful too, that's why I'm in the mess I am now. One of the other girls came into the toilet where I was burning it in the sink. I was going to put it out with the tap once it was ruined, but she screamed and set the alarms off. I've been expelled and they are currently driving me to Parkinson's Home for Girls in Bristol, England. The fact that they did not send for my parents, but are driving me to an orphanage instead, suggests to me that they have known for the whole time that I've attended their miserable, sad excuse for a school, that I wasn't ever going home again. They're still smiling. Im wearing my 'I couldn't care less' attitude, we'll be there any minute now so there is no point arguing, anyway, I'll probably be happier once I'm shot of them.
The orphanage is big and scary looking, but I'll be fine. They pull over a short way from its large sandstone steps, drag me out of the car and into the orphanage. I'm then left sitting on a blue vinyl chair watching the adults having hushed conversations about me. The head of the orphanage sends a scowl in my direction. A gesture to which I smile sweetly and then poke out my tongue, just far enough for her to get a glimpse at the self-done, piercing that sits in centre of it. I'm rather proud of that one. She looks momentarily shocked but then returns to the conversation. The hands seem to be crawling around the clock, I'm beginning to think I'll be on this chair for the rest of my life, but then the school mistress stalks over to me. She smiles sweetly then bends down, close to my ear and whispers.
"Have fun Beelzebub. You'll be right in your element." Then she walks away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Hello Amelia, nice to finally meet you." I ignore her. "I said hello to you, or can you not hear?" She says, sarcastically.
"Oh! Are you talking to me?" I say, sounding surprised. "Well hello, but who's this Amelia you speak of? I'm Amy, it's an, er, pleasure to make your acquaintance." She looks grim.
"Well, Amy, as you may or may not be aware, your situation is not good. Your parents have signed you over to us, not a thing to be said or done about it, so I suggest you start accepting it and have a few more manners about you when I address you. After all, it is of no fault of mine that you are in this situation. Miss Linn will show you to the dormitory and when you have unpacked, you will return to me and I will personally introduce you to your new life." She walks away and a tall, muscly looking woman grabs the top of my arm and leads me out of the office. She walks me up three flights of stairs and into a dormitory. It's horrible. Looks like a hospital ward.
"That's your bed, that's your wardrobe. Now start unpacking." I glare at her but I do as I am told. It only takes me a few minutes, I don't own much.
"Now you'll come with me before you go to the head, you need to be cleaned." I don't understand this remark, I am clean. But before I get more than a second to think it through, she pulls me across the landing to the bathroom, forces me into a chair and starts attacking my face with a make up wipe. I don't tolerate being forced into anything and I especially hate being manhandled, so I kick her shin, hard.
"How dare you!" She slaps me so hard in the face then that I can actually feel my skin welting. I can't even protest, it's completely legal, she's my guardian and therefore, She's free to clobber me if she likes. She returns to destroying my carefully applied eye make up. I sit patiently as she removes the black from my nails and lips, yanks the warmers from my hands and fires a new pair of stockings at me. I don't have much choice but to put them on. So I do. As soon as I finish, she whisks me away to the head.
"It's good to see you looking fresh and clean. Now, these are the class rooms, form rooms on the right, art, music, science labs, home economics and computer rooms on the left, shouldn't be too hard to navigate."
"Sure." I say, rather shakily. I'm scared, but I'm not admitting it to them. She starts leading me away to another corridor, muttering something about striving for excellence, I'm listening. I'm just trying very hard not to throw up for pure nerves. My 'I couldn't care less' attitude is beginning to disintegrate slightly.
"These are the common rooms, free time is spent here. There are desks, kitchens, lounges, mirrors, lamps, etc. basically, everything we thought you could use."
"That was thoughtful." I put in and, for once, I am not being sarcastic. Having someone care enough to think about all those things is something I have grown quite unaccustomed to.
"I'm glad you think so." She says. I shrug. "The dining halls are just down here, the rest of the girls have gathered there to meet you, so lets go." She leads me down the rest of the corridor and swings open the doors at the end. I lay my eyes on thirty or forty girls, all staring at me, none of them smiling properly. It is completely fake, and yet, I feel a part of it. We are all in the same situation. We all have to stick together. They know it and I know it, and it feels comforting.
"Hi." I say awkwardly. A few girls give me a couple of weak hello's.
"Well. I'll leave you all to get acquainted and then set up for dinner." Says the head. I watch her walk out of the room in her brisk manor and then turn back to the girls."
"What's your name then?" One of the older looking girls calls.
"It's Amy."
"How old are you?" Calls another.
"I'm 15. 16 in march." I reply.
"Well, someone will ask you this at some point so we might as well get it over with now. What happened to you?" I'll admit, I wasn't actually expecting this.
"I was dumped at boarding school, aged twelve, the folks switched their numbers and moved house and I never saw or heard from them again. I was expelled for burning the box of childhood memories, that they forced us to make, with a match in a sink in the girls lavatory. Now I'm here and we're all gonna live sadly ever after." A few girls laugh at this sarcastic remark.
"Well, I can see you're gonna fit in all right here. I'm Chloe by the way. You'll learn all of our names eventually. I'm head girl. Now, we need to set up for dinner, the tables are in that cupboard over there." She points to a cupboard on the far left side of the room. "And the chairs in that one. Cutlery and plates are in the kitchen, so are the fridges which have been previously stocked with the jugs of water for dinner. Lets do this." With all the girls chipping in, it scarcely takes us five minutes to set it all up and sit down, ready for dinner. The cooks are busy setting up the large kitchen bench like an American high school cafeteria. Miss Parkinson (the head) stands up and clears her throat, everyone falls silent immediately.
"We will begin with the Lord's Prayer and then you will be allowed to queue for your meal. In the name of the father, and of the son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen..." We apparently say prayers every morning and night and before and after every meal. Choice. I'm not Catholic by any manor of means. "Thank you. Now line up as usual." A cacophony of scraping noises and chattering is heard as the girls and I carry out this command.
Dinner is all right, nothing too grand, but it is enough to get some good nutrients into us.
"As you well know girls, you have two hours free time and then bed at nine, sharp. First year students will be in bed at 8. Goodnight."
"Good night Miss Parkinson." Chorus the girls before moving off to the common rooms. Some girls begin to watch television, others make some popcorn, a few sit on the arm chairs and either read or begin to catch up with homework. I busy myself with my art book. I draw all sorts in there, it's what I used to relieve myself of stray emotions.
"That's really good!" Pipes up one of the girls behind me.
"Thanks. But it isn't finished yet." I reply. It is a sad drawing of a lonely, shipwrecked boat. I've been working on it for a while, mainly in the car ride down from Edinburgh.
"You've got a real talent for that sure enough!" She says.
"Thanks."
"I'm Lucy, by the way, maybe we can be friends." Well this is a shock to my system.
"Yeah, maybe." I shake the hand she is holding out to me.
"Did your folks seriously dump you like that?" She asks.
"Yeah they did. Not something I'll ever forgive them for either."
"Doesn't sound like something anybody could forgive! I used to be happy, then Mum and Dad went out one night to a party in London. They never came home. No one has ever really explained what happened, apparently they were stabbed. That's not something I will ever get over either."
"Sounds horrible." I say, sincerely. I can't imagine how that would have felt. Another girl comes and joins us then.
"You two sharing sob stories then?"
"Yes Susan, what a delightful thing to do on a Sunday night." Lucy says.
"I've been sent to give you your timetable, Amy, it applies all week. Have fun. You think you're settling in okay?" She asks, pleasantly.
"I suppose. Be better once school starts I think."
"Yeah, always is. Anyway, see you 'round. Bye Lucy.
"See you."
"Bye." I watch Susan walk away to join her friends and then return to my own conversation with Lucy. Despite my desperate attempts to make myself that weird, anti-social kid that talks to no one, I'm finding myself welcoming Lucy's kindness and longing to let her know that I want nothing more than to become her friend. This place has changed me already. Maybe it's for the better, I guess we'll have to find out sooner or later. At nine o'clock, the bell goes for bedtime and the girls clamber off to bed, most of them so tired that they find themselves asleep in no time. I struggle to experience the same luck. The bed is new, so is the room and I am so nervous about everything. I want so much to just snuggle down into my pillow and cry. But I never cry. No matter how crap I feel. It takes a few hours, but I fall asleep eventually, dreaming about the week of classes I have to come.