I am thirteen years old, on my way to attend a boarding school for young girls of the nobility.

It is… scary and exciting. Georgie, a maid, is taking the trip with me, but I’m not close with her. Rosie still felt like she was my maid, um, not being arrogant, or anything. I mean, Georgie is like the family’s maid who sometimes attends to me, and Rosie was like my attendant.

What I am trying to say is that I wish I had with me someone I am more comfortable around. As much as I boasted to my mother otherwise, I am scared.

So very scared.

I take a deep breath and try to remember the positive things. That was something Ellie did. When she was worried, she took a step back and remembered the positive things. If I only ever think of what will go wrong, then I’ll never move forward.

Violet will also be attending this school. My mother told me that, so it’s definitely true. I’ve only seen her twice in the last few years, but she was the same as always. Spending time with her is what I’m most looking forward to.

There’s going to be four classes of twenty girls in my year, which means eighty odd potential friends. They all live in or near Kent, so, if we become friends, it will be easy for us to visit each other and write letters.

Oh, and there’s magic lessons! I did well under Ms Oare, but she can only do so much as a single teacher. At the school, there is a specialist in each of the seven magics. If we show talent, then we may take up classes. Though I’m not particularly amazing, I’m confident I can take fire and spirit classes.

Last of my big looking-forward-to’s, there’s clubs, which are another place I can make friends! There’ll be older girls and I won’t mind if they tease me like Clarice does, just as long as they also treat me kindly.

I have some small looking-forward-to’s as well. Things like sharing a room, which is the perfect way to make a best friend—wouldn’t it be wonderful if Violet and I were put together.

Lessons, I am not so eager for. While my reading, writing and arithmetic is good, history and geography (which is simply the history of country names and borders and a bit about rivers) and everything else is boring. It’s hard for me to read through the boring books, harder still to remember dates and such. I’m maybe a little ahead because I started early, but, no doubt, I will slowly fall down the academic ladder.

Realising my thoughts are turning sour, I rub some life back into my face.

It’s a long trip, horse-and-carriage and all that—a few hours, I think. I left after breakfast and am expected to arrive before lunchtime.

The scenery changes over and over, the big roads going through villages and towns, until we come to a stop. I’ve never been before, so obviously I don’t recognise this as our destination. The outskirts of a town. A manor even bigger than my family’s, and three storeys tall rather than two. There’s smaller buildings scattered either side of it, a stables by the oval road that goes right by the entrance to the main building.

I’m in a bit of a daze as I am shown around by a pair of older students, Georgie and another maid taking care of my luggage helped by the coachman and a manservant from the school. For a short while, I feel like I’m dreaming, walking around as the girls chat and giggle, making little jokes and sharing stories of their time here.

The tour ends in a sort of lobby where a few other girls are. We’re all in the school’s uniform, but our ages (or rather, our years) are denoted by the colour bow we wear. These girls are new students like me. The uniform itself is something like a white dress down to our knees with short sleeves, and a pale blue vest on top; our bows are also white.

For all my optimism, the thought of actually talking to these girls is too much. I, just, can’t think of what to say. The more I try to think, the more I feel myself shut down.

Then, by chance, I see Violet. As if splashed by cold water, I wake up and walk over with a broad smile. She notices me, her stern expression wavering the tiniest bit. I can’t say she’s happy to see me, but she doesn’t seem entirely unhappy, and she mildly criticises me while we wait to enter the hall for our introductory assembly.

I’m glad she’s not changed over these years.

Afterwards, we’re all lead to the dormitories, heading to our shared rooms according to a written plan, the handwriting so beautiful.

Though I’m not paired with Violet, the girl I am paired with seems nice. Her name is Amelia Sussex, the niece of the current duke of Sussex and the daughter of a baron. I don’t think I’ve said before, but the “de Kent” in “Nora de Kent” means that I am immediate family of the Duke of Kent, my father. I could actually be called something like Nora Baker, but my formal name would still be Nora de Kent until my father passes down the duke title to Joshua. My actual name is Nora Kent, though, and there are a few other Kent families because of multiple sons in previous generations.

Stolen story; please report.

Anyway, Amelia seems nice. She says I can just call her Amelia in private and I say the same to her. As this school is, in some ways, training for the upper-class lifestyle, we’re normally expected to refer to each other by Lady Sussex and Lady Kent.

We’re soon summoned to attend lunch. I’m not sure why we didn’t go straight over, but I guess this was a break to use the toilet. Lunch, it’s served in a vast dining hall, and the older girls are there as well. Amelia drifted over to her friends on the walk over, and I didn’t spot Violet, so I sit down at a random place.

The girls who sit next to me are too busy talking amongst themselves to say hello to me. It doesn’t bother me, first day and all that.

In the afternoon, we have a few lectures in the hall about the rules and expected behaviour and so on, and we split into our four classes to meet our personal tutors. My class is led by a Ms Norwich. She’s fairly middle-aged, a few streaks of grey to her (somewhat faded) pink hair, and gives an impression of being the sort who talks a lot stricter than she actually is.

At the beginning and end of this period, I manage to introduce myself and say a few words to my neighbour, a young-looking Lady Helen Hadlow. I’m thankful for the alliteration, her name quickly feeling familiar after repeating it in my head.

Supper is another lonely affair, but it can’t be helped. I’m understanding now that a lot of these girls know each other from attending tea parties and such. It’s a local school, mostly for those in Kent and not too far from the border with Surrey and Sussex, so it’s understandable that they would have met before.

Amelia doesn’t say much in the evening. She’s probably tired, so I make sure not to annoy her when she doesn’t want to talk.

It’s funny, my bed is comfortable, but it’s hard to get comfortable enough to sleep.

The next day, Amelia basically gets dressed and leaves as soon as the maid knocks on our door for morning call. I don’t think there’s that much of a rush, but maybe she wants to have a bath or go for a walk. A walk does sound nice.

Breakfast is a little lonely, but I’m still excited for the first day.

In the classroom for morning registration, I say hello to Lady Hadlow, but she doesn’t quite look at me when she mumbles back a greeting, and she fidgets with her pen and papers right after.

At morning break, I feel the stares.

Lunch is lonely.

Supper is lonely.

Amelia returns my greeting, but says nothing else all evening.

And… it begins.

I’m ignored even when I speak to the other girls. They loudly say my name when talking, or loudly say something like “ugly”, “dull”, “like a servant”, and then suddenly stop and look over at me before bursting into giggles. Eventually, they start sending one over to me, and they sweetly ask me to tell them what a car is (or something else like that). The first time it happened, I realised that someone knew of my early years when I would often talk of my life as Ellie, not knowing better.

But I’m just… numb. It’s not that what they’re doing doesn’t hurt me, or does hurt me. Um, that is, I remember what Ellie went through. And it’s not a “that was so bad, this is nothing” thing. It’s, well….

Ellie would get messages online that just read, “Slut.” And I know that’s unpleasant, I do, but it’s not the end of the world. Except, now I realise that, as soon as her phone vibrated in her pocket, Ellie would start shaking, her mind filling with worries about what it was this time, her heart racing and stomach knotting up and a general sense of dread crawling up her spine.

And this could happen any hour of the day. In the middle of the night, first thing in the morning, between classes, right before dinner.

And this was every day for five years.

The other girls, they’d make new accounts when she blocked the old ones. One time, they even impersonated her online and tried to get her expelled. The school only backed down because her parents threatened to go the police and the press over it. Even then, no one knew who did it, so nothing actually happened in the end. However, after the school put all the students through an anti-bullying assembly, the girls posted online vague threats about what they’d do to snitches.

Of course, they never got in trouble.

Looking back as she got older, Ellie noticed that, really, only a small group of girls was actually bullying her—her old best friend (the one upset that her crush asked Ellie out in their first year at high school) and the ten or so girls that were her group of friends. Everyone else just… went along with it. I mean, Ellie knew that that was also bullying, but she knew it was different.

At school, they didn’t do much to her—didn’t want to get caught. Shoving, tripping, taking her bag and hiding it. Short, offensive notes left in her bag. Eventually, they were satisfied by just seeing her flinch when they walked past.

Ellie wouldn’t go in a bathroom if she knew or thought they were there. Not because they ever did anything to her in a bathroom, but because she was terrified this time they would.

I… feel that terror now. Not because these girls at my school are doing anything harsh, but I feel the echoes of Ellie’s feelings, her memories all the more vivid.

That whole impersonation incident was when she was sixteen. The online bullying stopped after that, and the bullying at school toned down, especially as half of the girls soon after left to go to other schools or colleges for their A Levels. Everyone still ignored her, but it was peaceful.

She’d also spoken to her parents. They wanted her to change schools, but, in her heart, she felt like nothing would change if she did, that she was simply someone who would be bullied.

I guess she was right. Even after coming to a whole new world, look what’s happened.

Anyway, she also went to a therapist or a counsellor or someone—her mother arranged it, Ellie just turned up. The first two therapists, she felt like they were trying to make it her fault, asking if she did flirt with the boys and stuff like that. She was ready to give up, but the third one was awesome and utterly offended by what the other two had said and, really, she saved Ellie. She was why Ellie could go to university so full of hope, even if she would’ve said all she did was help Ellie find her own two feet again.

This has taken a really depressing turn, but it’s also thanks to that therapist that I think I’m okay now. I might feel numb, but it’s better than the perpetual anxiety Ellie dealt with. I understand I’ve done nothing wrong, that I don’t deserve this, and that this part of my life will eventually be over. Going forwards, I will try to find things I enjoy and that make me feel good about myself, and I will cherish the close ties I have with my family, and fondly remember the time I spent with them as well as with Lottie and Beth and even Rosie.

And… I’ll still feel so very lonely.