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Hi, my name is Grace
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 | Monotony {&&Chapter One --} |
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 5 with 4 vote(s)
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| Created: 2008-10-07 06:48:20 |
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I needed stronger willpower.
With stronger willpower, the incessant babble of unimportant, usually self-absorbed and almost always ill-informed conversations that filled the hall would do more than just fade into an annoying, incomprehensible vat that fed my irritation; it would be wiped from my consciousness completely, leaving me to ponder the position I was in.
And let me tell you, it wasn’t a comfortable one.
The dining hall of Matron Academy - with its polished wooden walls, long dining tables in a slightly lighter and much glossier shade of mahogany, and pristine marble floors - was a lovely room, one I could imagine elegantly-dressed ladies swooping across, the skirts of their exquisite lace gowns billowing around them. Too bad it was the setting for my daily horrors.
Carmela Durant was chattering away worriedly in my ear, as usual. I hadn’t listened to a word she said, yet I knew exactly what she was talking about. She was worrying over her boyfriend, Charles von Beromont the 2nd, heir to the von Beromont Vineyards in who-the-h'ell-cares, France. She was convinced he was cheating on her, but too much of a mas'ochist to do anything but worry and torture herself. Go figure. Being my roommate, she seemed to be under the assumption that I did and should give a da'mn. I needed to correct that assumption.
My gaze slipped away from the window behind Carmela’s butter-coloured curls that made her head look much bigger than it really was, and proceeded to regard the school, dining on whatever the cafeteria served for lunch. I didn’t really know, actually. I’d never been the sort of person who liked lunch. I was more of a breakfast person. My eyes slid disinterestedly past the ‘nerds’, who were doing homework from their previous class (not a bad idea, actually); the jocks, who used grammar fit for an eight-year-old whilst bragging about their lacrosse-playing girlfriends; said lacrosse-players using even worse grammar whilst swooning over their boyfriends’ friends. Finally, my eyes were drawn to the girls on whom everyone else’s were fixed.
Pale skin coloured faintly by perfect white-blonde hair, a dark blue pinafore and matching eyes, long fingers with neat pale pink nails, and a tall, thin figure made up Adeline Daizet, everything screaming ‘look at me’. But what kept the eyes staring was Grace Lucent.
Everyone knew who Grace Lucent was. She was easily the reigning queen of Matron, the celebrity, the subject of almost all the flaming arrows and assassin’s bullets of gossip fired by every wannabe whose eyes shone with adoring envy as they watched her. She seemed to be either unaware or pleased by the attention, because the chattered and poked at the food as if every eye owned by the surrounding girls and a considerable amount more were not trained on her disgusting perfection.
I wrinkled my nose distastefully. While those girls were all and confident, I was petite and had a knack for forcing people to overlook me. I was the, and I quote, ‘other Grace’.
End quote.
Not that I cared. Matron had done very little for my future ever since I came here, way back at the start of high school. You could see the progress of my social life, and the only good teachers taught Japanese, a subject I did not hold any desire to learn. Whose idea was it to send me boarding school anyway?
Oh, that’s right. Mine. Well, really, my mother had mentioned it vaguely, and I leapt onto the wagon at once, begging and pleading to go. Why? I supposed I dreamed of something more; classic ivy-covered, brick buildings and rolling green grounds swarming with wholesome, studious students in neat, sophisticated uniforms. Well, Matron was made up of ivy-covered brick buildings and rolling green grounds, but the only uniform it had was a blazer compulsory only for weekly assemblies, and the students were anything but wholesome and studious. So once I heard my parents were sending my younger sister here, I fought and pleaded for her not to be condemned to the same fate I was. Rather passionately, too. But my parents, being my parents, ignored my pleas, and Isabel was sent lugging her suitcases through the courtyard, looking forward only to sharing a room with a perfect stranger for the rest of her life, probably. Well, she owed me. At least I tried.
Of course I’ve tried to get out of here, but whenever I bring it up with my parents, they brushed me off, gave me an update on everything that was happening at home, told me they missed me, and said goodbye, all in one breath.
“H'ell-o? Earth to Grace! Do you copy? I’m kind of in a crisis here!” Carmela’s slightly nasal voice cut into my brooding. H'ell-o? Kind of busy repressing depression here!
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry. Since you were pretending that what you were saying was the most interesting and important news on the planet, I thought I’d be polite enough to pretend I was riveted.”
“Well, you’re not very good at it,” Carmela snapped. She was used to my scathing comments, and knew that usually I didn’t mean any offence. I was just the sort of person who said what I thought, no riff-raff. “Anyway, I’m convinced he’s unfaithful. He’s so distant. He doesn’t even make out with as much enthusiasm any more—“
“Look, if you’re so convinced he’s cheating on you, why not just confront him?” I demanded.
“Because if I’m wrong he’d never forgive me! He’d accuse me of being clingy and distrustful.” Carmela sighed dramatically. I rolled my eyes again. Whatever.
“I just don’t know what to do,” Carmela sighed tragically, just as she always did. Yeah? I just gave you perfect advice. Why not take it if you’re so very desperate?
This was infuriating. I could predict everything Carmela was going to say, along with everyone else. I couldn’t take much more. I had to get out. It was monotonous, it would always be monotonous, anything different to the daily doings of these people would be both shunned and fought against, because this room was full of creatures of habit.
“I’ll see you later.” I muttered, standing abruptly. Carmela looked confused and taken off guard.
“What? But you’ve hardly touched your—“
I was already gone. And, not surprisingly, Carmela was the only one who noticed me leave. |
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