Worse for wear

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Dawn woke up annoyed.

She'd hardly slept thanks to the lumpy mattress. She slowly massaged her right shoulder, trying to get the pin and needles out. The mirror across from her bed gave Dawn an idea of how she looked. She noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes. –Great –

She wanted to hit the mattress for taking her sleep away from her, and smash the mirror. But she refrained, fist clenched in frustration, and got out of bed to get ready.

The room in question looked a century old. Dawn hadn't had the chance to examine her surroundings the previous night. Mrs Elderberry had been very embarrassed for there hadn't been any light in Dawn's room. She promised that she'd find a lamp for her as soon as she could. Dawn had cared less and had gone to bed straight away – but hadn't found much rest in sleep.

There had been nightmares. She'd struggled all night in her sleep.

Half an hour later, Dawn looked down at her breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal, wondering if this wasn't worse than her nightmare. While Mrs Elderberry wasn't looking, Dawn took the initiative and got rid of her breakfast; with a smooth movement, she poured it out into the bin.

"Oh, good! You liked the oatmeal!" Mrs Elderberry had exclaimed when she'd returned, noticing that Dawn's bowl was now empty. "I've still got some on the stove. Would you like some more?" Dawn declined politely.

An hour later, Dawns stood in front of Hemery High school.

Hemery was a very big High school. She felt nauseous as she made her way through the thick crowd that had formed at the entrance, wondering if the spoonful of oatmeal she'd eaten had anything to do with it. She noticed that there were people glancing at her with strange and unreadable expressions. As soon as she would meet their eyes, they'd look away making Dawn wonder if she was becoming paranoid.

A couple of shoves later, Dawn finally managed to make her way into the corridors. Several times she tried to go up to some teens, wanting to ask where the Head's Secretary was, but somehow the pupils kept escaping her. She'd move towards them, the question on her lips, and they'd walk away as if they hadn't even seen her.

"Excuse me…" Dawn would start and the tall blond girl with her friend would conveniently turn the corner leaving Dawn stand on her own in disbelief. 'This is getting ridiculous," Dawn thought to herself.

Before she could ask anyone else, the bell rang and in a matter of seconds she found herself alone in the large and long corridor. She glanced from side to side wondering if there wasn't magic involved for everyone had rushed away with such a speed, leaving Dawn in complete silence except for her own footsteps which echoed down the now empty corridor as she continued her search for the Principal's office.

Dawn jumped out of her skin and a door slammed open just meters away from where she stood, coming face to face with a disgruntled looking teacher.

"What are you doing in the corridor?" the teacher bristled, spectacles on the edge of her nose, eyes staring at Dawn with something keen to madness.

"I –I" stuttered Dawn. "I'm new. I didn't find the secretary and …" To Dawn's relief, the teacher's expression softened.

"Of course. You must be Dawn Summers; this is your first day." The teacher stepped aside from the door, letting her pupils trickle out from the classroom in exited whispers. Again Dawn felt as if she was the subject of close and quite hostile scrutinizing.

"I'll take you down to the Secretary, I'm going there myself to report the scandalous behaviour of one of my pupils," she told Dawn, marching down the corridor from where Dawn had come.

It was a matter of seconds before both walked into the Headmaster's office. The secretary was missing, the teacher explained as they crossed the empty desk. A nock on the Principal's office and they were invited to step in.

The office was dark, and Dawn felt dizzy as soon as the door was closed behind her. The air was heavy and it had an indescribable smell which hit Dawn's senses with such vigour that she thought she'd topple over. She felt very grateful when the Principal mentioned her to sit down, but it didn't make her feel any better, if not worse. She was sure it had something to do with that dreadful oatmeal.

The Principal sat behind his desk, looking down at Dawn with hawk eyes.

"Principal Rane, I've come to report one of my students, Connor... He…"

"Yes, I'm already aware that the boy is missing and I've provided detention. I'll be calling up his father to speak about the possibility of expelling him." Not once did he look up at the teacher, staring attentively at Dawn who was feeling more and more uncomfortable under his piercing gaze.

"Oh, but Connor isn't such a bad boy," said the teacher. "He just lacks a bit of discipline-"

"Enough. I won't tolerate such antics."

The teacher flinched and the discussion seemed to be left at that. However she addressed a few last words to Dawn who felt thankful for the seconds of relief this gave her from the Principal's attention.

"I am your new Maths teacher, by the way," she informed Dawn. "Mrs Lewis. I expect to see you in class tomorrow." And then she was gone, leaving Dawn with the Principal.

He was an imposing man in his fifties with a sharp nose. His desk stood before him with neat piles of paper put to one side, his pens lined up in front of him, pencils sharp, ink pens with their caps firmly screwed on. If anything, his desk looked like Rane: incredibly tidy and, therefore, disconcerting.

"Miss Summers," he started, "I believe I've already had the pleasure of meeting your sister some years ago."

Warning bells went off in Dawn's head. If he knew Buffy, then he wouldn't be too kind on Dawn either. Things were looking quite bleak from where Dawn sat for she then felt incredibly alone, without friends, without her sister, without her mother.

"You were late this morning…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" But whatever Dawn had to say, the Principal didn't care for he promptly cut her off.

"I expect you to be on time, Miss Summers, or else I'm afraid I'll have to give you detention." He seemed to leave it at that. "Now, I have a list of books for you," he said in a clipped tone, handing the list in question to Dawn over the desk. "I advise you visit the school's library promptly. Timetables, and a map to the school grounds." These too he gave her. "And the school's rules which you'll copy down by hand for next Monday."

"Why?" the question escaped Dawn and wished to take it back straight away.

"It is in prevention of any mishaps; you'll know what the consequences are."

Dawn glared at him. So this was it, she was already considered like a wrong doer, some kind of criminal. She didn't even have time to prove herself that she was already put into the no-good teens category. It was unfair and wrong. She felt as if she'd just been cheated somehow without her say.

Seconds later Dawn was shooed out from the Principal's office.

She looked down at her papers and sighed in frustration. The day hadn't started out very well and unknown to her, the week would not be turning out any better.

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Dawn sat at the back of the class, paying little attention to the History teacher up front. It'd been some time now since she'd blocked out the monotone rumbling as the lesson went on, and instead had found a new and futile pastime: playing with her pen.

She had now figured out that the reason behind the worried glances she'd received all morning was because of her tarnished reputation as the sister of the famous Buffy Summers, pyromaniac and deranged girl who burnt down the gymnasium a couple of years ago. "Thanks Buffy," mumbled Dawn to herself. Not only Dawn was already considered senile ("Her sister was, no reason she shouldn't be either") but the students had also developed some kind of grudge against Buffy, which had been passed down to Dawn somehow. The fact was that rebuilding the gymnasium had cost a lot of money, which had ruined the realisation of another project: the construction of a collective room for the students themselves where a Tv and couches and maybe a snooker table would have been installed. They'd been deprived of that advantage, and all the blame that had once been put on Buffy was now redirected towards Dawn who hadn't had anything to do with it at all! She hadn't even existed back then, she'd reasoned to herself, she'd just been a green ball of energy. So unfair.

But she tried to be brave and not answer to the sniggers and the remarks. Even the teachers were eyeing her cautiously, probably making sure she wouldn't take a lighter out from her pocket and flick the flame and set fire to her desk.

When the lunch bell rang, Dawn made her way to the lunchroom feeling as if nothing would turn out right that day. She sat down next to some older girls, her food platter looking rather empty; she didn't feel hungry. She'd already chucked Mrs Elderberry's baked beans and had bought a sandwich instead and a bottle of mineral water.

As she ate, Dawn listened to the different conversations. Now that the girls from her table had left, she was able to hear what was being said at the table next door which happened to be occupied by some students from her own class. They were talking about Maths from that same morning, the class that Dawn had missed with Mrs Lewis. But what perked Dawn's interest was not the class in itself, but of the strange occurrence which had unfolded.

"Jumped right out of the window! First floor!" exclaimed a boy Dawn recognised as Martin something or other.

"He hasn't come back yet, has he?" a girl asked with blond pigtails. "He's going to be expelled for good this time. No way Rane will let it slide, no matter how influent his dad is meant to be."

"And he keeps missing class," another one added. "Rane was bound to expel him."

"What I'm wondering is how he just jumped out of the window! He should have broken his neck or something! It's impossible! No one can do that."

"Wish I could do the same sometimes," Martin continued to speak. "I mean, just walking out of class. Rane keeps everyone locked in as if it was a prison." There were a couple of nods of agreements.

"Hey, isn't that Buffy Summers' sister?"

This snapped Dawn out of her reverie, realising that she'd been noticed eavesdropping on their conversation. She tried to think about something to say, but she felt so embarrassed that she seized her tray and left without another word.

Dawn didn't know what had possessed her. She could have just said something like: "Yeah, that's me, I'm Dawn Summers." Or she could have confessed about listening to their conversation, because she was curious about what had happened that morning. Well, she could have said something, but she'd just ran off like a scared animal.

Minutes later in the empty bathroom, Dawn took a deep breath, watching her reflection in the mirror, wondering why she'd suddenly become so skittish.

She felt tired, she felt sad, she missed her family. She was now in unknown grounds, being looked down upon and she wasn't doing anything to remedy to her reputation by just running away!

All of a sudden, she wanted to cry as if the tears had a life of their own as they mounted pressure behind her eyes grew. But she quickly looked away from the mirror and walked out, trying to regain her strength and confidence as she went to her next class, French, which turned out more interesting than she'd thought.

Interesting not because of the teacher, or the lesson, but because of another strange event that interrupted class.

The teacher had been busy explaining the "deep inspiration" the XIXth century French writers had found in the war, accompanying her speech with large hand gestures which only served to give her the quality of a cartoon character, her right eyebrow lifting at the end of each sentence - when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes!" she called looking disapprovingly at the door, as if it were the door that was in fault of the interruption. In response, the door swung open and someone marched up to her purposely.

Well, Dawn guessed that it was someone, but he could have passed for a rubbish bag or some kind of mound of earth: he had the smell and the colour to do so. However, he was quite tall, what looked like bangs of filthy hair falling over his eyes in big chunks. He wore a brown T-shirt, ripped across his chest. Dawn had never seen anything like it.

When Dawn held the sides of her desk tight, it was not because of the scream that came from her teacher, but from the smell that reached her nostrils: it was stunning, literally that is. Dawn paled: there was incredible stench, making her feel dizzy.

There was mud, and there was a trail left on the floor where he stepped.

Mrs Crambridge opened her mouth a couple of times, before taking a step back when the boy tried to hand her a piece of paper (probably a letter to excuse his lateness, it was -only, Dawn noted with a sigh- quarter past two) . It looked like he had done an attempt to clean up to some extent; his arms weren't as dirty as the rest of his body.

"Finally decided to reappear after have left us on such a short notice this morning?" the teacher quipped, but voice did not have the edge she'd intended as she had difficulty breathing and speaking at the same time.

"Yes," he simply said.

"I can't except you in class," she told him, deeming it was understandable why she didn't want him (the bit of floor which Dawn could see from the back of the class had two patches of mud splashed on it).

"Ok."

The boy's arm fell back down to his side which could have expressed some kind of disappointment as his voice had given no indication of any feeling whatsoever. He slowly traced his steps back towards the door, but before he left, he skilfully flicked the paper he'd wanted to hand to the teacher onto her desk and then closed the door behind him.

When he'd gone, Mrs Crambridge had taken a handkerchief out from her pocket and had picked up the note, which she promptly chucked in her paper basket without reading.

"Now back to our french class... Victor Hugo était..." the teacher took up her speech once more, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Dawn sighted, the next 3 quarters of an hour of French still ahead. However, when the bell rang, she held back, letting the others leave before her. As she finally left the classroom, while the teacher still had her back turned towards Dawn, she fished the note out of the paper basket and rushed out so as to not be caught. A couple of moments later, she cautiously opened the note specked with mud and read the few words that had been scribbled untidily.

"I'm sorry for being late," it simply said.

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"Oh, hello darling," Elisabeth greeted when Dawn returned to the Elderbury's house. She was busy ironing.

"Hey," Dawn replied putting her school bag down with her knew books all stuffed inside.

"How was school, dear?" she asked, seeming to iron a pair of pants over and over again.

"Mmm, fine. Had a problem with finding the secretary, that's all."

"Ah..." she said concern filling her soft eyes. "Normal, first day." She folded the pants and took another pair. Dawn scowled, wondering if it was really necessary to iron pants but Dawn held back her tong, thinking that it would be impolite to ask about it while she was staying in their home. But it still looked silly. "There's bread and butter in the kitchen if you like, for tea," Mrs Elderberry told Dawn kindly. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I tried peanut butter, children usually like that..." she looked at Dawn expectantly as if asking if she'd done the right thing.

"Yeah! Thanks, it's great with jam too!" Dawn felt relieved; it was a change from the oatmeal food from breakfast, and she was feeling quite hungry (she hadn't finished her sandwich from midday.)

"Peanut butter and jam! Good gracious!" Mrs Elderberry's voice boomed with laughter as if Dawn had said something exceptionally funny, which then dissolved into a chuckle. "What children wouldn't invent these days!"

Dawn thought that Mrs Elderberry wasn't that bad after all. The woman seemed to have a warm personality, and the old lady's cheeks would turn red when pleased.

Dawn made her way for the Kitchen, discovering the toast, peanut butter and a knife already put out on the table. She plastered each peace of bread with more peanut butter than healthily recommended and gobbled each peace down greedily.

After have finished tea, Dawn decided to just go up to her room (pretending to forget her school bag downstairs). She really wanted to call Buffy, but it turned out that the phone was not working. "The line hasn't been working for sometime now. But we've assured me that it was being seen to," Mrs Elderberry had explained, to which Mr Elderberry had replied that it was the best thing that had ever happened. "Telephones, we hadn't needed them back in my days," he'd grumbled.

Dawn had thrown herself on her bed, feeling completely empty of emotion. Yes, her day had been horrible and boring, but really, it could have been worse, couldn't it?

It's those kind of questions which are jinxed and turn out bad.

After about fifteen minutes of deep thought on "how it could get worse," she got up with the intention of finding her dairy and write down the day's events, especially what happened in French. She looked under her bed but did not find it. Strange, she'd thought she'd hidden it there. But then she realised that the bed had been made whereas Dawn had left it in a mess that morning. Mrs Elderberry had probably found it. It was disconcerting. And when Dawn looked for her luggage, it had been put away as well. Maybe she put everything in the cupboard?

She opened one of the cupboards and gasped in surprise.

"What's this?" she asked herself taking a dress out. It was white with little blue flowers and a blue ribbon at the front. "Iuuuuu!" Dawn exclaimed making out the puff ups on the shoulder. Now that was certainly not in fashion anymore. It looked a century old.

She put it back; figuring out she'd opened the wrong cupboard. She was about to close it when something caught her eye. Dawn reached for the little green frame on a shelf and pulled it down from its perch.

It was a black and white photo of a girl, probably Dawn's age with long hair, wearing old fashioned clothes and a bow on the side of her head. She was smiling and clutching a teddy bear.

Dawn put the photo back where she'd found it and looked on the other shelves. A brown woolly foot was poking out from the last shelf. Tip toying on the end of her feet she tried to reach it, when the door to her room suddenly opened.

Dawn jumped back and found herself facing Mrs Elderberry who was fuming. She was glaring at her. Before Dawn could say anything, the old woman had snapped the cupboard shut which such force, that Dawn thought she would have time to move out of the way.

"You aren't allowed to look where you please," snapped Mrs Elderberry. "This isn't your house. And you're certainly not allowed to go sneaking in our personal spaces. It is not proper for a girl like you."

Dawn was flabbergasted. What had she done? She'd just been searching for her dairy.

She was about to tell her this when a red gleam shone in the elder's eyes. Just a flash, not even sure if was real Dawn stepped back in shock.

Her lips pursed, all merry warmth in her cheeks gone, Mrs Elderbury left the room.

"I have to phone Buffy," was what Dawn thought. "Quickly."

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Now, guess who was the guy who came all muddy in class!

Weird old couple? Nah...

Stay tuned in! Don't worry, more people to come and keep Dawn company. And I suppose that father of hers is never there when she needs him. Now, all you need to do now is REVIEW! And tell me what you think about it.

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