Working at St Trinian's was like a dream come true.

Annabelle had eagerly come back to the school in September, knowing that surviving St Trinian's as a pupil for the last two years made her more than qualified to work for her Aunt. Miss Fritton had thought long and hard about what job to give her, seeing as she was still starting out and perhaps not ready, or the right sort of person, to have a class of her own. She decided eventually to place her as a simple teaching assistant to Ms Dickinson, as it was her Annabelle had got along with best in her years at the school. She knew Annabelle herself had been hoping for a place in P.E, more specifically, the hockey team coach, but Miss Cleaver could get… well, a bit up herself, with her being in the war and everything. So it wasn't surprising when Annabelle complained a little, claiming that no-one took Ms Dickinson seriously and she would never learn anything about teaching at St Trinian's, feeling like a newbie all over again. However, her presence in the room forced the class to fall silent in an instant, after all, she was once Head Girl, and Head Girls were to be respected beyond doubt- where teachers were not (obviously).

Ms Dickinson herself was delighted that she could pass on her knowledge and teach a decent lesson without her glasses being stolen, or having cold water dumped over her; surprisingly, she also made for a fantastic mentor, explaining wistfully that all respect she had earned in the school so far would soon be meaningless when she was recognised as a teacher instead of 'Annabelle Fritton, Head Girl' (she had been practising saying that in the same sultry tone Kelly had used on her when she first arrived. Somehow it never sounded the same) and she would have to get used to being a lower authority figure than even the First Years. Of course, Annabelle was adamant that would never happen, but she listened nonetheless, nodding as Ms Dickinson told her who to suspect when all the test papers 'mysteriously' went missing, or how to spot the suspicious giggling before getting pranked.

The staff room was also something new. She had only seen inside the room through the form of recording equipment, as pupils were strictly forbidden. Despite everything, the pupils accepted and respected this, after all, why would they want to hang around with the teachers? It had been an exciting prospect at first, sure, but Annabelle quickly found herself uneasy sitting among the other teachers, and usually just stood awkwardly in Miss Fritton's shadow, nodding along with the conversation and refusing any offer of a quick fag. She may have turned into a St Trinian, but that didn't mean she had to smoke. The other teachers shook their heads and whispered to each other that she was still a kid, leaving Annabelle feeling rather ostracized.

Instead, she made it her personal duty to check upon the wellbeing of the pupils during lunch and break hours, especially that of the new Head Girl, Roxy. The rockstar had vigorously taken up the job as Annabelle knew she would, not only was Roxy the sort of strong individual they were looking for, but being the Head Girl of St Trinian's apparently did wonders for her rock-chick image. Annabelle had always wished that Kelly had been there to guide her, so felt proud that she was sticking around to help Roxy as she was starting out. At first, she had been grateful for her constant support and help, but after two months, she found herself politely asking if Annabelle could perhaps back off a little, reminding her that she wasn't Head Girl anymore and she was sort of stealing her thunder, preventing her from getting the respect she needed,

"You're staff now, you have to accept your days of ruling the roost is over and it's time to pass the baton onto someone else"

Annabelle was a little put out by this, but could see where she was coming from; after all, Roxy needed time to build her own legacy and could never do that when Annabelle still acted like she was in control. Still, the two remained firm friends and often spent long nights drinking, laughing and gossiping in her old room.

Winter came to Britain, and the countdown to Christmas had already started. The school was filled with a seasonal buzz, which heightened even further when the First Years spotted Geoffrey Thwaites dragging an impressive Christmas tree in through the foyer, whilst Miss Camilla tutted and berated him for being so slow, for being such a lousy excuse for a male, and a torrent of other insults-all out of love, of course. (Two days later that 'buzz' was killed after the Flammables set the tree alight after subtly depositing a smoking cigarette in the plant pot when they saw Annabelle stride by, causing the tree to burn and the Ecos to cry out in anguish. Of course, this meant Geoffrey had to repeat the entire process and get another tree, but he secretly enjoyed being the saviour) Watching her former classmates decorating the tree that morning, Annabelle couldn't help but smile as Bianca, perhaps the toughest of the chavs, hoisted a tiny First Year onto her shoulders. The younger girl giggled with delight as she placed her angel, conveniently pink, with a drooping halo and a tiny hockey stick in her hands, on the very top of tree, causing cheers to break out from all those who were watching. The jolly, festive cheer seemed to blur the boundaries of the social groups to a point where everyone could get along evenly without making judgements because of cliques and groups. Well, almost everyone… Annabelle winced slightly as one of the Emos lashed out at one of the younger chavs for trying to put her bright, gold decoration on the same branch as her coffin ornament. Some things just never change.

Then, the overhead clouds had decided to grace England with the rarity that was snow. Everyone whooped in delight and hurried to put on their warm clothes and dash outside, commencing in the snowball war to end all snowball wars breaking out on the school grounds. Screams and shouts exploded from the joyful scene as even the geeks left their laptops to help the Posh Totties fend off and army of well-armed Ecos. Annabelle wandered outside, wrapped her arms around herself and gave Miss Fritton a sideways glance

"I take it lessons are cancelled?"

Miss Fritton's reply was lobbing a snowball straight into Annabelle's face, causing her to squeal in surprise. Shivering, she wiped the snow from her eyes to look at her rather guilty Aunt,

"Oh, whoopsie, I didn't know my aim was still that good" She apologized, knowing what she had started. Annabelle stuck her tongue out and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow, knowing the answer to her question was yes. Hours were lost in the depths of the snow as the snowball fight finally came to an end with no absolute winner, and they instead drifted apart to build snowmen, make snow-angels or simply watch the tranquil scene through snowflake-laden lashes.

Later that evening, with nothing to do after finishing marking the sixth form homework-after all, only five had actually been turned in-Annabelle found herself alone. The snow had kept falling all day, until the school was comfortably surrounded by eight inches of the stuff. Miss Fritton had deemed it too unsafe to attempt to take Annabelle home, (after being partially disowned by her father, Annabelle had nowhere to stay, and Miss Fritton was all too happy to offer her a place in her own house, claiming that the spare room was getting rather lonely) instead showing her to a corridor of small, unused bedrooms that provided emergency sleeping space for staff who found they couldn't get home, for whatever reason. She contemplated going back there for the night, but the rooms were cold and had an old, lonely feel to them, so she opted instead to take armfuls of left-over decorations, tinsel and lights to Ms Dickinson's classroom with the intention of sprucing it up a little. She smiled at her own desk, which was tucked away in the corner of the room, noting how messy it was and making a mental note to do something about it; Ms Dickinson's desk was always spotless. Nevertheless, she still dumped her handbag down on the wooden surface, the contents spilling out carelessly. No matter, Annabelle thought to herself, I'll do something about it later.

She set about decorating the rather dingy, plain classroom, talking absently to herself as she pinned up a long string of shiny gold tinsel around the blackboard.

"There we are, that's better, isn't it? Always so plain and boring, this room, it needs to be flashier and more out-there…" She was halfway through tying big red ribbons around the framed photos on the walls, when a noise buzzed in her ears. Finding it irritating, she spun on her heels and tried to pinpoint its location. She saw, with some surprise, that it was her mobile phone, vibrating away on her desk, the empty sound resonating around the classroom. Odd, she tapped her lip thoughtfully; everyone who would call me is in this very same building. She grabbed it from the desk and brought it up to her face to read the caller display. Her finger hesitated over the 'accept call' button as she stared in disbelief at the single word that was coming up on her screen. Snapping out of the initial shock, she pressed down hard on the button, clenched her teeth and brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hello? Annabelle? Is that you?"

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Hmm, I wonder? Anyway, thanks again!