"Abigail Keating," Mr. Nolan paced back and forth. "I hope you understand this is highly unusual. I don't understand why your father was dissatisfied with you attending Henley or some other perfectly respectable school built for people with your, ah, gender persuasion." Abby struggled to hold in her giggles at his choice of words.
"I know sir. My father says that he, well, he wants to keep and eye on me. It's very kind of you too allow me to attend your school." Mr. Nolan didn't stop pacing or make eye contact. "I'm really excited. I mean, this is such a great school and I'm the first girl ever, and-" Nolan held up his hand. Abby stopped talking.
"There is a small matter of where you will be sleeping." Abby started.
"I assumed in my father's quarters, where else-" Nolan cut her off again.
"I feel the community would be less interrupted by your presence if you, ah, followed the normal routines of a senior at Welton. So, I have arranged a room for you on the floor with our senior boys. A single of course, and a private bathroom, generally used for the progeny international diplomats who are uncomfortable with sharing a space with common boys, but I digress. You will be sleeping there, studying there, and socializing there. I think it may be best if your relation to Mr. Keating is kept from the boys as we don't want any special treatment accusations. Obviously, this means that visits will only be allowed sporadically. Also, it has been decided that you shall use your mother's maiden name to avoid awkward questions. Abigail Butler sounds lovely doesn't it?" Abby froze. She nodded, and then realized that was hardly an appropriate way to respond to the dean of her new school.
"Yes sir. May I go to my father's apartment and get my things?" Nolan nodded and pointed down the hall, dismissing her. Abby barely got out of his sight when the tears began to fall. She stumbled through her father's classroom, into his office, and collapsed onto a chair, sobbing. Her father put his arms around her.
"Abby, I just got the memo. I cannot believe Nolan! I asked if I could have my daughter stay with me, and then if I could enroll her in the school! I didn't realize the second request would nullify the first. Baby, I am so sorry." Mr. Keating began to cry as well. Abby sniffled and glanced at her father's messy desk. Front and center was a framed photograph of her mother. Abby had been told all her life that she was the spitting image of Marta Keating, but looking at the picture all she could see was a woman, frozen in time, laughing her heart out. Abby sighed and pulled away from her father.
"Daddy, I have to get my stuff and move into my room. I just have my carpet bag, will you get my uniforms?" Her father nodded and grabbed a neatly folded pile from the window sill. Abby bit her lip. "Daddy, since I'm not allowed to visit, not often anyway, can you try and make sure I'm in your class?" Mr. Keating stared at his daughter. He hadn't fully grasped the concept of living with her but not, yet she obviously had, showing once again her maturity.
"I'll try Abby baby, but I can't promise anything. Now, let's go to your room okay?" The two of them walked to the dormitory side by side in a companionable silence.
"One hundred years ago, in 1859, forty-one boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that now greets you at the beginning of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"
Abby was sitting in the audience, near the back, so no one saw her surprise as every boy in uniform stood up and recited "Tradition, Honor, Discipline, Excellence," and then sat back down. Gosh, maybe this school wasn't such a good idea, she thought to herself. But Mr. Nolan was still talking.
"In her first year, Welton Academy graduated five students. Last year, we graduated fifty-one, and more than seventy-five percent of those went on the Ivy Leagues! This kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States!" The parents cheered. Abby glanced around, were they really swallowing that? Apparently yes, as Mr. Nolan acknowledged them and continued to talk. "As you know, our beloved Mr. Portius of the English department retired last term. You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement, Mr. John Keating. Mr. Keating is himself an honors graduate of this school, and has for the past several years been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School, in London. I would also like to announce that, due to some extenuating circumstances, Welton has accepted as a senior student Miss Abigail Butler. Miss Butler, if you could stand up please," Abby jumped to her feet and smiled at the shocked faces around her. "If any parents have questions on how this is being handled or something of the like they may feel free to approach me. However, the reasons behind her enrollment are personal and cannot be addressed in this session." Mr. Nolan stepped back and dismissed the mass of students and parents. Abby raced towards her dorm, hoping to avoid angry parents. As she was struggling to unlock her door, a group of young men walked by, glanced at her, and stopped dead.
"We get the girl, alright!" One of them exclaimed. Another stepped forward.
"Ignore Cameron; he doesn't know how to talk to anyone. I, on the other hand, am very good at talking to people, particularly girls," he wiggled his eyebrows and stuck out his hand. "Charlie Dalton pleased to meet you." Abby laughed.
"You can call me Abby, 'Abigail' sounds way too formal."
"Formal is all the best for Nolan," smirked another boy. "I'm Neil Perry and welcome to Hellton!" Abby laughed again. "Oh, where are my manners. You've met Charlie and Cameron, but this is Knox, Pitts, and Meeks. We all live on this hall, so you'll be seeing quite bit. Honestly, probably more than you'd like. Well, I'm going to go meet my roommate, see you all!" The rest of the boys took their leave and wandered off. Abby shut her door and smiled. Maybe living here wouldn't be too bad after all.