Keep the Closet Door Closed

I've known a lot of kids who were excited to be sent to William's Palace to learn the ways of the prude. They considered it a great privilege. For me, however, it was a punishment.

Apparently, my attire didn't suit the expectations of the last four Christan schools I'd been forced to. I'm a Wiccan and I refuse to take off my Pentagram because, unlike many of the people I grew up around, I am not afraid to stand up for what I believe in.

So, now, I am on a bus headed to William's Palace with nothing but a bag of clothes, my guitar and a strong desire to brutally murder this man who is beside me snoring. I thought to check if he was dying or something but decided against it. Suddenly, the bus came to an immediate stop. I smirked as the man was thrown into the back of the seat in front of him. I know it was mean but, honestly, you would have laughed at his expression, too.

"Alright. We're in William." I heard a deep voice croak from the speaker phone. I grabbed my things and squeezed myself passed a few people, apologizing, in order to escape the smell of strangers. Everyone has a unique, often unpleasant smell. Maybe it is just me. It probably is.

As soon as I was off, I breathed in the crisp, refreshing scent of the London air. There was nothing like it. I felt myself abruptly grabbed by the arm and literally dragged into one of the three buildings before me. The thing about William's Palace is that the entire city was the school's grounds. Yes, it was a rather small city but it was huge for a school.

"Miss Annabell Bone, I presume?" the stern looking woman with the grip of a viper muttered. I cringed. I've hated the name Annabell since I was old enough to understand how overused the God Awful name was. "You can just call me 'Bones.'"I replied. After hearing no response from the wicked witch of London, I let my eyes wander around the building. The architecture was beautiful- it was as if I walked into one of those Harry Potter books.

"Here," the lady began, releasing her death grip on my newly reddened arm. "is your new locker. In it is your uniform. We can't have you wearing that, now can we?" she said and gave me a hauty look. I assessed my outfit. I was wearing torn jeans, a plain white shirt with combat boots and, of course, my pentagram. Although I saw nothing wrong with it, the angry woman did. "Change in here." she hissed and shoved me into a bathroom. Good God, she must have left her manners in the vat of acid she crawled out from.

I quickly changed into the uniform an decided it wasn't as bad as the others I've had to wear. The gray and red plaid skirt wasn't too long like they were at the Prudy Saint Christopher's and it wasn't too short like they were at Saint Mary's. I let the white dress shirt remain out and pulled the white socks up to my knees. Frankly, I'm just excited I'm not in a Catholic school anymore.

When I exited the bathroom, however, the woman roared, stuffed in my dress shirt, folded my socks down and hiked up my skirt a bit higher than my waist. "That is how you should dress." she declared. She took hold of my arm once again, causing it to swell more, and tossed me into yet another room. "This is your dorm." she said and handed me a paper. "Take your schedule. Goodnight." and she slammed the door behind her.

"Yeah. That's cool. I'll just figure it out on my own." I muttered, sarcastically. I looked around the room for a moment. It was pretty big for a normal dorm room. I decided I'd be spending more time in here than anywhere else and opened my closet to throw in my bags.

Immediately, I dropped everything and screamed. "W-Wh-" I stuttered, unsure what to ask first. The boy in my closet seemed just as shocked as I was. "You can see me?" he cried.

"Uh. Duh." I responded. "You don't blend in with the walls or anything. What with your white skin and all- they're brown. Sorry but you suck at whatever secret agent crap you are trying to pull. Go home.. Shoo!" I screamed. His eyes were still wide. "I can't." he said. "I am trapt here in your room." Excuse me?