The sun hung high on Monday morning in the idyllic mountain campus of Buttercombe Academy for Gifted Girls, the fresh mountain air heavy with dew and the sweet smells of nature as everyone on campus slowly began their day. The cabin area slowly came to life as teachers emerged from or stirred peacefully within their temporary homes for the school year, still smacking their lips and rubbing the sleep from their eyes as the faded morning glory roused them. The low hum of a lone golf cart’s engine buzzed along the road as the delivery woman scooted from house to house, a big yellow box for everyone who cared for it filled with glazed and crème-filled confections to start the day. It was the first day of school, and that meant that everyone’s first breakfast was complementary.
At least that’s what Jenny said. Sarah could believe it too, with all the sweet perks she’d scored since she’d finally accepted Ms. Polluck’s rather sudden job offer. She’d only been on campus for a week and she’d already been given access to the private faculty lounge, a voucher for fifty dollars at the campus store, a sweet welcome basket this side of enormous filled with soaps and chocolate and just anything your stereotypical girly-girl could ask for, and sweet real estate—her cabin belonged to Ms. Nottingshire, whose departure opened up a covetous position and a well-desired spot in the first row of cabins.
She’d been living it up all week, but unfortunately six bells meant that it was time for her to actually start getting ready to teach. It had been nothing but indulgences since she’d arrived, plenty of celebratory meals and lots of sweet treats as a little self-congratulatory pampering on Ms. Polluck’s dime, plus the debacle that was her welcome party. What kind of school hazes new teachers with cakes the size of Staten Island?
Sarah Walker, a tallish woman with long black hair, tugged tightly on the flaps of her skirt and fastened the hook and loop. It seemed that the week had been too good to her, as she definitely remembered this skirt fitting around mid-summer. It was a tight little thing to be sure, a black pencil-line with yellow pinstripes, but it had never been this tight. She could still wear it, and probably be able to bend over. She should just probably take littler steps than normal.
A puff of relief escaped her, her body unclenching as she relaxed. She was dressed in a yellow blouse and said skirt with heels, her legs darkened by the modest hose she’d slipped on. Her hair was perfect—somehow—and her makeup was present but not overbearing. It was a big day, her first day of teaching these prep-school girls, and she wasn’t about to let her P.S. 118 roots show yet!
She walked over to the couch and grabbed her purse and accordion file folder, her heels click-clacking against the hardwood floors of her cabin as she made short practiced steps against the better interest of her skirt. She passed the coffee table and, whipping back around to grab the keys to her personal golf cart, Sarah made her way out the door and towards her little vehicle. She set her stuff down in the seat beside her before realizing that she’d been gifted a big yellow box—one with the words BUTTERCOMBE BAKERY written on it in fancy script.
“Mmm!” Sarah said excitedly as she pulled back the top of her box, revealing several donuts of various flavor and variety, “Wow, this school’s really pulling out all the stops aren’t they?”
One silky-soft hand hand extended towards the box, perfectly painted fingers wiggling greedily before suddenly recoiling—
No, I’m supposed to be meeting Jen for breakfast. Sarah told herself sternly, firmly grasping the steering wheel with both hands as her black brow furrowed. The slender woman let out a shallow exhale as an audible confirmation of her stance on the matter. She turned the key, which read 105 on the head, and put the little cart into reverse. That would have been the end of it, until her stomach gurgled hungrily. She’d been awake almost a whole hour and hadn’t eaten anything since last night…
“Well…” she lead herself once the cart was properly faced on the dirt path, “I guess one couldn’t hurt…”
***
Two donuts and three minutes later, Sarah had parked her cart in the faculty lot with donut number three in hand. She licked the frosting residue off of her forefinger and thumb before reclaiming her purse and folder, click-clacking her way into the building.
Buttercombe Academy was a prestigious school—probably one of the most prestigious schools in America—and it catered almost exclusively to the daughters of socialites and captains of industry. It was a magnanimous place, older than any other building Sarah had ever seen and filled with as much history as it was with technology and things current. It certainly beat trudging through the halls of her old school, the low-point of her teaching career. It was only by luck that Sarah even happened to get this job—what with ms.whatshername leaving so suddenly and her little sister just happening to put in a good word.
It was so unreal to think that, just after Summer started, Sarah was slumming it up in old Public School 118. And now here she was, teaching Honor’s English to a bunch of prep-school girls.
The thought went well with her donut, Sarah chewed on both happily as she made her way to the West Wing’s first-floor teacher’s lounge. It wasn’t a long walk, but Sarah had found that the spacious hallways made every trip a trek in the short time she’d been there. She placed her purse down on the couch left for nearby teachers to use—of which she was the only one thus far that morning. The rest were still probably getting ready or, much to Sarah chagrin, in bed. Even still, it didn’t seem right for her to be the only teacher in the lounge this morning. Sure her classes were early, but she was supposed to meet Jen here… did she have the right room?
An expert, slender hand whipped out her smartphone (sticky with glazing in places) and thumbed through her texts. West Wing, First Floor, Teacher’s Lounge on the left. It seemed that she was in the right place after all—Jen was just probably late. She tended to be pretty late these days…
On my way!
Had to stop and get breakfast!
Her phone buzzed to life in her hands, little green air-bubbles against her little sister’s Facebook profile picture. Sarah frowned tightly and put the phone down along with the remaining fourth of her donut. She was suddenly aware of the tightness in her skirt, and how uncomfortable sitting down all day was going to be.
Ever since Jennifer, her little sister by two years, had started teaching at Buttercombe Academy she’d changed. As Sarah recalled it, she and her Jenny-Benny had more or less done everything together since they were kids. Even as adults teaching across the country, the two women did their best to keep in touch. But as time, it was becoming clear that Jen was changing—her calls became less frequent, they stopped keeping in touch as much. Until last summer Sarah was sure that she and Jen had drifted irreparably apart, if Jen hadn’t put in a good word for her with Ms. Polluck there was no doubt in Sarah’s mind that the two sisters would have only drifted further apart still. Even more worryingly, every time Sarah saw her little sister for the holidays she looked heavier. Jen had never had a weight problem before coming to Buttercombe Academy, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. What’s worse she seemed to be in complete denial that anything was wrong—the distance between them, her weight, everything was just as it had been.
Sarah suddenly regretted her donut; the aching around her waistline much more pronounced as she felt her stomach gurgle in agony. It was easy to imagine how Jen developed a weight problem at Buttercombe Academy. There was food everywhere, and she worked as a Culinary Arts teacher. Even still, just because her little sister had turned into a piglet didn’t mean she should follow suit…
U there? Im coming inside!
Yeah, come on in. I’m waiting lol!
Sarah waited patiently before she heard the tell-tale footsteps of a visitor. The doorknob twisted as she heard her sister’s voice behind it greeting her.
“Hey Sare-Bear, guess who got an extra dozen chocolate crème muffins for the best big sister in the world?”
Jen had been teaching at Buttercombe Academy for some time now, and had definitely developed an eating disorder. It was so hard to believe that this was the same girl that used to play tag with her when they were kids, or that used to steal her clothes when they were teenagers—Jen had put on a lot of weight since signing up to teach at Buttercombe. It was so hard to believe that her “little” sister weighed…   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive
story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Bobo the Hobo (UN: psuedophobic at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Bobo the Hobo has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Get MORE!
Shop Memberships
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
