Monday
I sit up in bed, restless, I look at my phone and its 6am. Way too early I grumble, nonetheless I switch on the TV, and put my comfort show on— 'The Vampire Diaries' and start from the pilot episode, if theres anything that can get me ready for my first day; its Elena Gilbert and the Salvatore brothers.
By the time the first episode finishes mom knocks "honey, you up?"
"Yeah come in mom"
"Oh good, you're properly awake" she beams.
We've always had this argument. I would say I was up when I was still lying in bed, but Mom would argue that I wasn't properly up—just awake and not ready to move.
She'd always threaten me with a glass of ice-cold water over my head if I didn't get up in time. Just the thought of being cold and wet was enough to get me moving.
She comes over to the bed, hands me a cup of coffee and sits down on the edge of the mattress. "Big day," she smiles, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves.
I take a sip, the coffee still a little too hot. "Yeah, big day," I echo, staring at the uniform hanging on the wardrobe door.
The uniform is pristine: a grey pleated skirt, a white button-up blouse, and a navy blazer with the school crest embroidered over the left pocket. A matching tie is draped neatly over the hanger, its stripes annoyingly perfect. I've already decided that I hate it.
Mom notices where I'm looking and smiles. "It's not so bad. You look great in navy, you know."
I groan. "You mean I'll look like a corporate drone in navy."
"Nonsense," she says, brushing a stray hair off my forehead.
"You'll look polished and put together. First impressions matter." A stern look on her face.
"Yeah, because looking like everyone else is so impressive," I mutter. Although I liked the idea of uniforms, I disliked how that particular one looked.
Mom doesn't take the bait. She stands and claps her hands. "Right, enough stalling. Get dressed—we've got twenty minutes before we need to leave, and I'm not having you late on your first day."
Resigned, I shuffle over to the wardrobe and start pulling on the uniform. The material feels stiff and unnatural, like it was designed specifically to make teenagers uncomfortable.
When I come downstairs, Mom gives me an approving once-over and snaps a quick photo on her phone before I can stop her. "For the scrapbook," she says with a grin. I skip breakfast, the thought was nauseating enough.
"Mom!"
The car ride there is quiet, apart from the hum of the engine and the occasional directions from the sat nav—we didn't want any mishaps like we had on Friday.
As we near the school, I can feel my stomach twisting itself into knots. The imposing stone building looms ahead, ivy creeping up its walls like something out of an old boarding school novel.
Students in identical uniforms stream through the gates, chatting in groups that look far too established for a newcomer to break into.
Mom pulls up to the drop-off point and parks. She turns to me, her face softening. "Head up, shoulders back, and don't forget to smile."
I roll my eyes but give her a quick hug before stepping out of the car. The cool morning air bites at my legs, and I tug at the hem of my skirt, wishing I had pants on instead.
Aliya is already waiting near the entrance, her polished appearance looking straight out of a school brochure. She spots me and waves, her smile bright and welcoming. "Morning, Emma!"
"Morning," I reply, trying to match her enthusiasm but failing miserably.
"Ready for your first day?" she asks as she falls into step beside me.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I mutter, clutching my bag tightly.
"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. The schedule isn't too complicated, and I'll be with you all day," she says, leading me toward the main building.
We pass a group of students who bow their heads slightly as Aliya walks by. I glance at her, trying to gauge if this is normal, but she doesn't even acknowledge it. It's like she's used to being treated like royalty.
"What's with the bowing?" I whisper.
She chuckles. "It's a tradition here. The head boy and head girl are seen as role models, so students are taught to show respect. You don't have to worry about it, though. No one's expecting you to bow."
"Good, because I'm not doing it," I say under my breath, and she laughs again.
Aliya shows me to the home room, well, here it's called registration room, where a tall teacher with wire-rimmed glasses and a stern expression is waiting. "Miss Morgan, I presume?" he says in a clipped tone.
"Yes, sir," I reply, trying to sound confident.
"Mr. Hughes," he introduces himself. "I'll be your form tutor. Please take a seat over there. Registration begins shortly."
I nod and find an empty desk near the back, trying not to make eye contact with the other students who are already seated. Aliya gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before sitting at the front, where she seems to have her own special spot.
As the room fills up, I glance around nervously, feeling the weight of a hundred tiny judgments being made about the new girl. I tell myself to breathe. It's just one day.
The bell rings, and Mr. Hughes clears his throat. "Welcome back, everyone, hope you all had a good weekend. And a special welcome to our new student, Emma Morgan, who has joined us from the United States."
A murmur ripples through the room, and I can feel dozens of eyes on me. I force a tight smile and give a small wave, wishing I could disappear.
"Miss Taylor, as head girl, I trust you'll ensure Emma feels at home," Mr. Hughes continues.
"Of course, sir," Aliya replies, her voice perfectly composed.
The rest of registration passes in a blur, and before I know it, Aliya is leading me to our first class. "See? That wasn't so bad," she says, flashing me another one of her dazzling smiles.
I sigh. "One down, a hundred more to go."
She laughs, and for the first time, I feel a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—I'll survive this day. The day passed in a haze of introductions, schedules, and endless corridors that all seemed to look the same.
Aliya was true to her word—she stuck by me the entire time, acting as both a guide and a buffer between me and the overwhelming sea of students.
Maths was a whirlwind of unfamiliar terms and formulas, and I spent most of the class frantically copying down notes, hoping I'd make sense of them later. History wasn't much better; the teacher spoke with such a thick Welsh accent that I only caught about half of what he said. Science, at least, was more familiar, though I quickly learned that my American way of spelling things like "color" and "analyze" wasn't going to win me any points here.
By lunchtime, I was exhausted. Aliya led me to the dining hall, where we joined a group of her friends. They were friendly enough, peppering me with questions about Florida and what it was like living near Disney World, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was the odd one out.
The rest of the day followed the same pattern—awkward introductions, confusing classes, and Aliya swooping in to make everything a little less overwhelming. By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to collapse.
"Not too bad for your first day, right?" Aliya said as we packed up our things.
"Define 'not too bad,'" I replied, earning a laugh from her.
"You'll get the hang of it," she said confidently. "Anyway, I thought we could hang out after school, get to know each other better. There's a cute little café near the base I think you'll like."
"Sure, sounds good," I said, grateful for the chance to unwind after such a long day. I also noted that I hadn't specifically told her that we lived on base, I guess news travels fast when theres an American in the mix.
"Great! I'll meet you outside your house. Look for the red Mini—it's hard to miss," she said with a wink before hurrying off to her next appointment as head girl.
"Wait, I'll have to—" I called after her but my sentence died off as she disappeared into a crowd. I guess she'll find out the hard way that you can't just drive up to a base housing without being authorised through security I thought, hopefully the guard will call up to our house so we could let her through.
I breathed a sigh of relief. The first day was finally over.
My brain was still reeling from the whirlwind of new faces, names, and rules I had to remember, Aliya had written them down for me
Always walk on the left in the corridors.
Never interrupt anyone.
Speak only when called on.
-Always address teachers as Mr or Mrs.
Bow to any teacher/head students when passing.
Do not use a computer without booking, even if its empty.
This one wasn't a rule but the weirdest one - you always had to keep your bag with you. There were no lockers here so you carried everything around with you all day.
I walked outside and saw Mom's car already parked by the gate. She waved at me as I approached, her smile wide and warm, though there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes. I could tell she'd been waiting, probably watching the clock, hoping I wouldn't have the kind of day that would make me want to turn right back around.
"Hey, sweetheart, how was it?" she asked as I climbed into the passenger seat.
"Long," I replied, leaning my head back against the headrest. "Really long."
"I'm sure. First days are always the hardest," she said, turning the car on and easing out of the school parking lot. "But I'm sure you did great. You always do."
I half-smiled, though I wasn't entirely convinced. "I survived. That's the best I can say for now."
"You'll get used to it," she reassured me, her tone steady. "It'll take a little time, but soon enough, you'll feel right at home."
"Yeah," I said, but there was a lump in my throat. The idea of fitting in here felt like a distant dream.
She glanced over at me, sensing my unease. "You want to grab something to eat? I thought we could go to grab a coffee from a place I passed on the way in. Take a little breather before you get started on homework?"
I nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yeah, that sounds good."
Mom's suggestion of a break was a welcome distraction, and I found myself relaxing a little more as we drove out of the school grounds and toward the coffee shop. Even though it was just one day, it felt like my mind had already been through a month of new experiences. A little quiet time sounded exactly what I needed.
As we neared the café, I caught myself trying to shake off the lingering tension of the school day. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I could find a place here, with time.
But then, just as we parked, a flash of red caught my eye. I turned to look, and my breath hitched. A sleek red Mini Cooper was parked nearby, and stepping out of it was none other than Aliya, her perfect posture and confident stride unmistakable.
Mom must have noticed my sudden interest. "Do you know her?"
I quickly looked away, feeling the flush rise in my cheeks. "Uh, yeah. That's, Aliya. You know, my babysitter"
Mom raised an eyebrow. "Well, she certainly seems... stylish when she's not in school."
I laughed softly, trying to shake off the unease. "Yeah, she definitely is."
She looked different from what she did in school, her skirt had been pulled up to a mini, she had short heeled boots on, her hair was cascading down her back in thick waves and she was plastered in makeup.
Little did I know, that red Mini would soon become a key part of my days at Harrington Manor Academy.