Kelis POV

Today is the day that Kelly Jones marries her St Trinian sweetheart, Annabelle Fritton and it was never going to be a conventional wedding. Mum and Fritton have asked (or demanded if you ask me) that all St Trinian guests wear their old or present school uniform, this includes her and Fritton. I've not had a choice in how I am to dress, it feels weird turning up to a ceremony dressed in my school uniform with a Head Girl badge pinned to my left lady lump. However, I'll have to grin and bear it. They've booked their honeymoon for the day after the last day of term which naturally means a few house parties here and there and an attack on Mum's prized wine.

It's strange to see my mother dressed in her old school uniform when she's close to the menopause. I've heard everyone describe her legendary pencil skirt, blouse, choker and tie combo and I've seen the photos of Mum back when she was the Head Girl (you can't miss the shrine dedicated to her in the unused library). When I was younger and when times were so much simpler, I used to always try to take that very same tie from its place in Mum's wardrobe. I used to climb up onto her bed and marvel at the two colours on the tie of the school I have been a Head Girl to since September. I'll never forget my one and only attempt at grabbing it.

I was only around five or six; I was still at an age where Mum was my one and only hero who fought off the monsters under my bed. Like on most week days, Mum was preoccupied with phone calls and other boring adult pass times. I wanted to feel the thrill of an adventure and the rush of adrenaline that was continuously described in my bed time stories (my favourite story was the one where Cinderella told her step mother where to shove it and walked off with Prince Charming). As a kid I always dreamt of running around and saving the world with Mum from mad scientists and my most despised enemy, the Barbie doll. It was these fantasies that drew me to the dusty and transparent clothes cover that hung in that IKEA special wardrobe.

I wasn't as stealthy as you would expect the daughter of an MI7 agent to be, I wasn't even tall enough to reach either, so I yanked on it. The bag fell down with a loud crash, pulling the rail and the other clothes down with it, but I didn't care. I pulled my prize from the wreckage and simply unzipped the bag and tugged the tie free. The loud crash of the collapse of the inside of the wardrobe had alerted Mum to my misdeeds and she came rushing in, only to find me fiddling with the only piece of compulsory St Trinian uniform.

I will always remember the way she smiled at me with pride and I will always remember the way she chuckled to herself before lifting me up and sitting on the bed with me. I then spent what felt like hours listening to all of her stories about every adventure she went on, every bad guy she stopped and every detail about her beloved school. It was that day when she had told me that I would attend St Trinians when I was either ready or a known arsonist. I've never liked fire, I've always hated the way it destroyed everything in its path. This would make me the world's worse arsonist according to Polly.

Now, here I am over a decade later from that event and so much has changed. I haven't become the daughter Mum always wanted, when I got into St Trinians the first time I was out within about two weeks. I constantly try to avoid people knowing my relations and I get offended when I get referred to as Kelly's daughter. Somehow, Mum doesn't seem to get offended by this. That's one of the positive things of having a St Trinian as a parent (unless that parent was a former Chav); they always seem to understand the need for individuality. However, today I shall be walking side by side Kelly Jones, brandishing my heritage. Let the fun times begin!

Mother and I are currently lounging around in the Head Girl's room, my room. The ceremony is due to start within the next hour and we are both ready, we're just waiting on the other two bridesmaids and of course Aunty B. I've decided to edit my normal uniform just for this event; it felt wrong to not make the effort for my own mother's wedding, or funeral depending on how you see these things. In place of my usual blazer, there's a small black waistcoat with the school's emblem stitched into the top left hand side and my Head Girl badge pinned slightly below it in a casual horizontal position. I have kept the normal long-sleeved blouse buttoned up, missing the bottom few buttons with a black singlet on underneath. However I have swapped the usual skinny black trousers for an innocent looking skirt, long white socks with a blue trim (to fit in with the school's colour scheme) and black heels. The one thing I am without is my tie, Mum's tie. In all honesty, I feel almost naked without it.

I can't help but stare at Mum, it always feels odd when an old Head Girl comes to visit and demands to see Kelly Jones. I've never understood why half of them have left either crying or cowering in fear at the mention of the name Kelly, but now I can see why. She's stood, looking at herself in my floor length mirror. Her eyes aren't warm and forgiving like I am used to, instead they are cold, hard and daring you to challenge them. Her jaw is set and her lips are graced with a balanced smirk that even makes me question my self-worth, then her face quickly changes as our identical eyes lock in the mirror. Mum quickly spins around and steps towards me before pulling me into a warm motherly hug.

The moment is ruined when two dishevelled bridesmaids tumble into the room panting. One dressed in a small tartan skirt, white blouse pushed up to the elbows with a black pull over vest and chunky short tie, topped off with seemingly natural curls. This bridesmaid was every bit a traditional Chav, complete with chewing gum and nail file. The second bridesmaid looked fresh from a horror film. Like the Chav she was dressed with a standard blouse and short skirt; however her outfit consisted of red and black stripy leggings, random badges and a small long sleeved blazer. Her black hair had been left to dangle wildly around her shoulders with its red highlights and her piercings, this one even has the letter A drawn on in the corner of her eye.

"Shit the bed," Taylor says in awe. "You still look like Kel init!"

"Funny that," I mumble, earning a sharp glare from the Chav bridesmaid.

"What Taylor means is that you still look like the eighteen year old Kelly," Andrea adds. "The Chav has primitive social manners and therefore cannot process a compliment without it being insulting."

"Where's Becca?" Mum asks, turning to Taylor with a sharp glare. "I thought I asked you to not let her out of your sight!"

"Chill out yeah? She's a grown woman init."

"That translates as Becca managed to get Taylor drunk last night and then disappeared from the face of the Earth, Polly can't even find her."

"She'll turn up when she's hungry," I tell them all. "Now let's go, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner Taylor stops whinging." I say as I usher them all out of my bedroom.

I know I should be updating other things rather then starting new fics but I'm getting there, new fic for a new year makes perfect sense

Review because I made a £10 tip today, always serve the big spenders and old folks