Chapter Text
{Atticus’ POV}
‘Of course father would flaunt his wealth at a school like this, taking the best car he owns to pick me up.’ Atticus inwardly groans as the car rolls up to the estate her new school resides on. As soon as the car stops, she’s jumping out and grabbing her bag, wanting to get as far from her father as possible. The driver and one of her father’s men begin to grab boxes of things and bring them in for her as her father walks up to where the principal waits. I guess she greets every a-list douche that enrolls their child here, she thinks with a roll of her eyes, walking over when her father beckons her. “Yes, father?” She asks in a monotonous voice.
“This is your new principal, I expect you to treat her with the utmost respect.” He says briefly. Atticus shoots him a two finger salute and he walks back towards the car, having done as much as his ‘parental duties’ require him to.
Then the principal addresses her, fixing her with a no-nonsense look. “Your dorm is room 328, it’ll be on the third floor. Classes start tomorrow bright and early, so I suggest you use today to familiarize yourself with the school layout. There will be no excuses for tardiness. Your class schedule as well as a bell schedule and the uniforms you purchased are already in your room.” Atticus nods disinterestedly and walks towards the entrance, not giving a single glance to the car she can hear pulling away.
Immediately, her vision is filled with stained glass, marble statues, and praying hands. And she can’t suppress her groan of annoyance because it’s just her luck she’d end up in a christian school.
Atticus finds her room quickly, her boxes all stacked on one of two beds in the room. “This day keeps getting better and better.” She growls out, not keen on spending however long lodging with some bible thumper. Needing something, anything, to take her mind off of just how inherently unlucky she is, Atticus starts unpacking, placing clothes in drawers and supplies on what must be her desk.
However, unpacking gets boring, so she abandons her task and decides to explore the school grounds. She picks up her class schedule from her desk and leaves, heading towards the front of the school. 'Might as well do this systematically,' she thinks, even though she knows she’ll forget everything in a matter of minutes. The halls are deserted and pristinely clean, leaving an unsettling feeling in Atticus’ chest. This school looks like something straight out of a demon movie. She shakes the thought and goes back to her adventure.
She reaches a room that piques her interest, a church sanctuary. Large stained glass murals cover the back wall behind a podium and many statues and candles. Atticus walks through the nave, dragging her finger feather-soft over pews and tapping long nails on the polished wood. The walls parallel to her path are spotted with small windows and movement in one of them catches her eye, coming to a stop right in front of the podium.
Out the window is a large garden of stone, statues of religious figures create a maze like pattern. Atticus is quick to find the closest door, hoping to get a better look of the only interesting thing in this school. She has to backtrack quite a bit, but eventually finds a door, making her way over well manicured grass to the very edge of the statues.
In the center of the statues sits a large marble Jesus statue, his arms out in front of them, hands upturned. And most curiously, there’s a girl laying across his lap and arms looking like every edgy teen’s wet dream, her head cradled by one of the marble hands. Her uniform is in disarray, the shirt scrunched up to expose the slimmest line of pale stomach before the hem of her plaid mini skirt begins. Black knee high socks stretch up model thin, long legs, her skirt hitched up on one side to show just that extra inch of thigh. One arm is resting on her stomach gently, the other hanging down, a cigarette precariously perched between slender fingers.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Atticus asks without thinking, as if someone who looks like that would care about class.
The girl opens one eye to look over at Atticus, before closing it again, lifting her cigarette to her lips and taking a long drag from it. “You lost?” She asks, not caring enough to look anymore.
“Nah, I like to break into private schools in my free time.” Atticus huffs, taking a few steps closer so that she’s only a couple feet away now. The stranger lets out a scoff and sits up, now sitting sideways on Jesus’ lap. “I don’t start my classes until tomorrow.” Atticus adds, holding up her class schedule.
The girl snatches it with her free hand, giving it a quick once over before humming and handing it back. “Interesting,” she mumbles and, as a second thought, extends the cigarette towards Atticus as well. “You look like the type o’ gal to partake in nefarious activities such as smoking on school grounds.” She states, adding an extra lilt to her voice than there was previously.
Atticus takes it and inhales deeply. “Spot on. And you look exactly like the type of girl to smoke on Jesus’ lap.” She counters, handing back the fag and exhaling through her nose.
“Non-binary, my friend, but what can I say? I guess it’s a fantasy to be bent over the big guy’s lap.” Before Atticus can come up with a retort, a loud bell rings out through campus. Immediately, the person stands and straightens out their uniform, dropping their almost gone cigarette and snuffing it out at the feet of the statue. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Miss Lancaster. Until next time.” They say, walking away. Atticus is left staring at their back as they leave and only realize once they’re out of sight does she never asked for their name.