Red September
Written by Frolic
[frolic_]
A young English teacher is transferred to an All-Girls Catholic Boarding School. But what she finds, is the only thing she wants to keep concealed.

Rated PG-13 (for sexual content, slash themes, and coarse language)
*Might be changed to R*

Author's Note: WARNING! This story does have homosexual themes in 't stomach it? Then I'd suggest that you might want to skip this story. You've already been warned. :)

Also, I'm looking for a beta. If anyone's interested, please do contact me.

. . .

Part One:

The air smelt of lemony pine and glass cleaner as I entered my little bedroom for the first time. The hard wood floors sparkled, and shined with a certain pride that was glowing, as well as the oak furniture and cupboards. As always, I had this nervous feeling right in my tummy. Even when I was in school, whenever I started a new year, a new semester, I'd get this sensation, as if I was a new student, at a new school, which I really wasn't. I never understood why, then again, I never questioned it.

Dropping my suitcases gently on the floor, I closed my eyes and enjoyed my silent welcoming.

I had only begun teaching English for about a couple months last year, and I loved every moment of it. English was my favorite subject in school. It wasn't only because I was naturally good with it, but it was about the language, the art, and the passion that literature gave off whenever I drowned myself in it. It was this hidden beauty that I kept to myself, treasured even, while my schoolmates whined and bitched about having to get through it. English was my obsession. My love.

So far, the staff was very polite and kind to me. Everyone went out of his or her way to assist me in whatever I needed. The students, the girls were also charming. This made me happy in a big way, since every teacher's nightmare was a class from hell. In other words, everything was running smoothly, and I was more than happy to be looking forward to teaching my first class here.

. . .

Emily watched silently from her seat at her desk, as her students filed into her class. They were a bit rowdy as they took their seats, but from the looks of it they seemed pretty well behaved. Smiling to herself, she stood from her seat, brushing her long chestnut hair behind her shoulders, and walked to the front of the class. She could feel their eyes on her as she found her place at the front desk of the large classroom and waited for the remainder of the students to take their places.

"Good morning class. Welcome to a new semester, and a new year of high school." Already a hand rose up to ask a question. Looking directly at the owner of the hand, Emily smiled and nodded, granting the girl permission to speak.

"Are you a new teacher here at St. Mary's?"

She heard, as the girl received snide remarks, saying "Duh!" and "Of course" before replying polite: "Why yes indeed I am. Thank you for asking." She smiled at the girl assuring her that it wasn't a stupid question. Suddenly a thought entered her mind. "Goodness, I almost forgot to introduce myself." Chuckles could be heard as Emily crossed her arms, leaning back against the desk. "My name is Ms. Carey, Emily Carey. I don't mind being called Miss, Ma'am, Ms. C, or Ms. Carey. And if I like you enough, Emily might be fine." She watched as several girls smiled, and even laughed at her little pun. "So, is that a good enough introduction?"

. . .

"I wouldn't eat that. I mean, if I was you."

"Pardon me?"

I turned to the voice that spoke beside me, drawing my attention away from the ladle of soup that I had in my hand. There was something about her voice that was different that got me curious. Dropping the ladle back into the pot, I found myself looking at a blond girl that not only had a wide grin on her face, but pair of mischievous eyes.

"I wouldn't eat that?" she repeated, and that's when I found it. The girl had an American accent. "I mean come on, it's clam chowder. Nice creamy white goodness. In fact very thick. Thick enough so as to not notice the other special ingredients that so shouldn't be found in food?" Again, her eyes held a playful, puckish gleam that I couldn't help but not ignore.

"And why should I believe you?"

She gave me an innocent look, before retorting with a wicked grin, "The chef's a male cook?"

Beaming a smile at her, I gave in. "Alright. Fine. You did lay out a perfectly good point." I turned back to the buffet in front of me, skipping the clam chowder, and heading straight for the mash potatoes. But right as I grabbed a hold of the serving spoon, I heard her voice again.

"Miss, Miss! I don't think you're getting the point here? Mashed potatoes are a no-no as well. Not only can he bury things in it but he can mix things in it calling it 'the special stuff' with that tangy taste!"

I laughed. "I suppose I can't eat anything here at the cafeteria?" She nodded at first before shaking her head, disagreeing with her first gesture.

"The only thing I'd eat here that's safe? Mr. Noodle."

I found myself laughing at the girl again. "Well then, what about the water? Aren't you afraid that he did something to the water?" Once again, she smiled her little smile before beaming proudly, "Why Miss, I'm a Catholic School girl. I've got faith that that's the one thing he didn't make impure." She winked at me, as I grinned, shaking my head at her silliness. The girl shrugged, before skipping away to grab herself a Mr. Noodle. As for lunch, I had an apple.

. . .

The last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon of the autumn sky as Emily gazed out of her bedroom window. Her long day had come to end, and now it was time for rest.

She found her first day teaching at St. Mary's Boarding School for Girls to be very refreshing and enjoyable. The girls were perfect students, and nothing went wrong. Within her thoughts one girl stood out in her mind, that it brought a smile to her face.

The American girl from the cafeteria.

She was pretty, cute, and she was full of life. Blonde hair, green eyes and a sweet smile - not to mention a punkish, puckish attitude, the girl reminded Emily of herself when she was around her age. Was she even in one of her classes this semester? She did recall that a number of girls were missing from her classes today.

Sighing, she withdrew from her stance at the window, and looked at her room again. Somehow, it already felt like home, and this she didn't mind.

. . .

FEEDBACK! PLEASE! AND THANK YOU? (Okay, I'll stop with the caps...)
~frolic

DISTRIBUTION: Like the fic? Want it? Take it! But do tell me so I can gloat & say you're cool. :D