Hellloooo. This is a new fic I'm starting. I expect to finish it and for it to actually be good :) All four sisters are in it, and it will be written from each of their POV's in different chapters. Basically, it is the story of the girls' lives in an Upstate New York Boarding School.

Disclaimer-I don't own Charmed. Mild references to the It Girl series by Cecily von Ziegeser are also not of my ownership.

Prue-Chapter 1

"Life isn't about finding yourself, It's about creating yourself."-George Bernard Shaw

The sun was coming through the windows, the same annoying wakeup that reminded me who I was and who I had become, each and every morning of every day. The wakeup that always manages to make my a little bit sad inside.

Again, I had forgetten to close the blinds last night after sneaking in from the party that was over in Block 7. Damn. If I don't start being more careful, one day I'm going to get caught, and then like nothing, my whole reputation, as the beautiful, perfect, intriguing me, will be over.

Luckily, this time it was a Saturday, and there was nowhere to be. Well, at least not at any classes, which I might've skipped anyway, since my head is killling me. My sole job today was to try and convince my sisters to come with me to pick up our other sister up at the train station.

So basically, i'd be going alone, I realized rubbing my temples, even though I know it's not going to help me any.

I roll myself out of bed, tossing my indigo silk goose down comforter over my 500 thread count egyptian cotton sheets. I wince as my feet touch the cold carpet of the dormitory floor. Its that stupid fall chill of upstate New York. Upstate New York, which I happen to love.

I run my hand through my raven hair which I've let grow down long and straight almost to my ass and let out a big yawn as I peer out the window. What bit of a bad mood I had dissipates as I am once again shocked at the beauty of the changing leaves and the bright morning sky. I can't help opening up the window and inhaling a whiff of the sweet, earthy air. It's never like this in California.

"Fuck, Delilah, shut the window!" my roomate Willa groans pulling her own expenisve bedding over her blonde (natural!) hair. "Jesus Christ, it's a Saturday" she groans patting her matted head.

"A Barrington Bee always wakes up bright and early!" I tease mocking our school's cheesy handbook which refers to us as the Barrington Bees. Barrington Prepatory School, being where we live and learn, and Bees because we're supposed to be chipper little workers.

"Fuck you" she grumbles before retreated back under her covers. I smile.

And I'll tell you partying is a lot of work.

Even though I don't want to, I close the window, with this tiny ache in my chest. I can't let anybody see me human. Then, I'll be nothing again.

I'll tell you, my life wasn't always like this, a little game of cat and mouse, trying to stay on top, and not get overthrown by the next wannabe. See? Even that sounds stuck up. But, if I was myself, I wouldn't have any friends. I'd be bland and boring Prue, instead of the admired Delilah.

Up until this year, I spent half of the year living with my Grams, and all three of my sister's in California. The other half of the year I spent here. With only two of my sisters. The time we spent here was classified as the "custody time" our Dad is entitled too. He is the one who pays to send us here. He actually pays for everything. He's the reason why I live in this pretty sweet dormitory and the reason why my closet is full of the clothes that make me so sucessful.

For that reason alone, I value him.

However, my baby sister Paige, is only my half sister. God, how I used to envy her when I was first shipped off her 5 years ago when I was twelve. She was only four at the time, but I was so jealous. Her Dad was still around. In fact, he lived (and still does) just ten minutes from the Manor where our Grams lives. She would never be made to uproot herself. She wasn't abandoned. She wasn't unwanted.

Or so I thought. She's only nine, still a baby, a little kid. Grams is getting older and she decided she couldn't handle Paige any longer. Sometimes she is just the biggest bitch. Paige isn't a bad kid necessarily, well not really anyway. She acts out, and gets herself into trouble. It's not major trouble though, just childhood trouble, like not doing her homework or breaking somebody's window with a baseball. Still, She isn't the "perfect" grandaughter, meaning not a bother or a second thought. As Grams constantly tells her, she is the square peg in a circle family.

I used to see her face fall when Grams would tell her this. But not recently. For the short time I saw her, March through August, she was not my same sister. She had lost it. A complete terror with an empty look in her eyes, that only deepened when Phoebe told her the truth that our Mom died during her birth.

Phoebe and Piper blame her. (Well, Piper does and has sucessfully stuck this belief onto Phoebe.) I don't. How can I?

I think the problem is we're all so different. When we are in California we are all more together, all dressing preppy in brands like Lacoste, Juicy, Polo, Abercrombie...that sort of thing. That's what everyone wore. But in New York, it works differently.

You see here, individuality and sophistication is what is weighed. You must either come into this school with a persona and an unoccupied classification, or you must create yourself. Create or be killed.

So Piper, 15, is the laid back casual girl in jeans and a sweater, or sweatsuits, or basically anything that looks incredibly comfortable. But I'll tell you, it takes way more than it looks like to appear effortless. It also works in her favor that she's a big old dork with a pair of Prada glasses. Adds that touch of individuality we all need.

Phoebe is the little bohemian hippie child. She is always wearing some long flowing skirt, or dress, or knit cap. It suits her really, and she has an incredible knowledge of who she is even at 13. Seeing her so carefree everyday makes me wonder how she functioned in the monotony of the Baker school system. She's too mature for her age though in so many ways I wish I could bring back my little sister. She's on my level really when it comes to most matters.

And Paige. My baby from the day she was born. Mom was dead, and Paige was the last piece of her I had. The freshest, most innocent, untainted thing, and that makes her sacred. She's the last thing that made my mom happy, and thats more than I can say about myself. Half sister or whole sister, she's still mine. She hates me though, because I "leave" her every year. This year she threatened to kill herself because Grams decided we were all to be sent away for the whole year.

She has major issues, and I try to help, but she sees a therapist once a week, so i guess its his job really. She's been diagnosed as a 'passive agressive with mild sociopathic tendencies". Basically, she hates to do what she is told and sometimes doesn't care about hurting other people.

So I say she's human. But, she is also the only person I know who had her first nervous breakdown at age eight. I love her despite all of this, which makes me the closest thing to a mother she'll ever get, since Grams is emotionally abusive (she was to all of us to a certaine extent )She has her Dad too, and they have a fascinatingly normal relationship. He keeps her stable, and I know we'll help her through it. Well, I will at least, since Grams in a moment of selfishness threw her on the next train to Albany, leaving me with no more than a brief text message instucting me to "haul my skinny ass up" (which you probably think is shallow for citing the main barrier between me and my sisters as fashion) and go get her.

Ah yes. My skinny ass. To my sisters (sometimes) I am known as Prue, short for Prudence, or rather Prudence Delilah Astrid Halliwell. When I came to Barrington though, I decided to go by my middle name , so now I'm Delilah to one and all. Delilah, classy, beautiful, enthralling, chic, model, and fashionista.

Psh yeah right. Tell that to the invisible boys banging down my door.

I hear the bells from the tower located on campus and panic as I pick up my Sidekick. Holy Canoli, its 10:30. I'm supposed to get Paige in fifteen minutes.

I throw on a goldenrod sparkly baby-doll dress with spaghetti straps, black leggings, and my favorite Jimmy Choo blue ankle boots. I also throw my Stella McCartney red leather jacket over the whole thing to keep me warm. Well, it probably won't do its job,but it looks nice so whatever.

Appearances, appearances. I wish I could just wear oversized sweats.

I grab my keys and my Balenciaga bag as I run out the door, not panicking just yet. I mean, Paige can wait. I cannot hold this whole family together myself, it is simply not my job.

This is where the good me says, "If you want something done right, you do it yourself" while the shallow whore argues "Worry about yourself dear"

These thoughts are too deep for the morning anyway. I'll just consider them later.

"Later Willa" I call only to be shooed with more groans from the best friend I have in this whole place.

Which honestly doesn't mean much.