Wednesday,3rd February. Martha Bradshaw's Academy for Girls. Room 536.
Can I just ask why? Why do I have to go to boarding school? I wasn't failing Maths, or getting into fights, so why am I here???
My mum says it's the best way for me to be disciplined, and become a proper young lady. Apparently, I wasn't feminine enough. Well, sorry, I just dont't find plaits and mini-skirts my kind of thing. Honestly, you should see the uniform here. I'm actually regretting not wearing those dresses mum got for me. Ew. It's disgusting. Grey and sky blue. Knee-length tartan skirt, and this horrible blouse and jacket.
I'm sitting on my bed in my dorm room. It isn't that bad. The room, I mean. It's all kind of vintage, and pretty. And it doesn't smell of mould, at least. There's another girl unpacking on the other bed in here. Her name's Bridget Kent. At least, that's what her suitcase says. She's heaps prettier than me. Blonde curls, tanned, thin and petite. And what am I?
A five-foot nine walking disaster.
My dark hair sort of resembles a bird's nest, and it looks as if I've never seen sun. That's how pale I am. I look like Snow White gone hobo. And that's an understatement.
Anyway, I have to stay at this boarding school for the rest of the year. That is asking way too much. Don't be surprised if I'm dead by Saturday.