#i love how she resists the urge to curse in front of julia

[lovethcrn]

✉️ ➡ @dunnewithyou, surprise in my spotify wrapped: stayaway (acoustic) by muna.

❝ no one ever told me leaving was the easy part ― it's the staying away that's proven to be a constant challenge. ❞

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter eight)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: cursing

wordcount: 4.2k it’s been a while buckle up 

gif from @poguemackin​

_

Rafe showed up to class on Monday with more nerves than he ever had, unsure of what Sophie’s reaction would be. After having a long heart-to-heart with James and Colin (though he would never call it that), he had come to terms that maybe, just maybe, he liked Sophie Flint more than a friend. He was determined to try, telling himself he would be patient when she would try to argue like always and that he would give it a chance. For once. 

Sophie didn’t seem to get the memo. 

She barely greeted him, only offering a half-smile when she sat next to him - unusually late, only there one minute until class was meant to start. “Running late today?” Rafe elbowed her with a grin.

“Guess so.” She shrugged, head down as she started scrawling into her notebook while their professor started teaching.

He frowned, caught off guard by her cold demeanor, given that they were cuddled together in a bed just under 48 hours ago. “Just teasing, Soph.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes down. “I know.” 

The rest of the class continued like that, Rafe resisting every single urge in his body to tear off a piece of paper and slide her a note. (She’d probably find it annoying, and it wasn’t middle school, anyways.) At the end of class, she didn’t even bother to pack her bag, just gathered her things into her arms and hurriedly left before he even had a second to say goodbye. As promised, he met James to walk to their next class together, looking completely lost. 

“How’d it go?” James asked Rafe with a grin, reaching out to knuckle his fist against Rafe’s hair. 

Rafe ducked out from under him and shoved his arm away, scowling. “Not good. She barely even looked at me, let alone talked to me.” 

“Oh.” James frowned. “Maybe she was just tired? It is kind of early.” 

“Nah, she at least smiles at me. Or have some smart comeback and she didn’t even try today.” Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about how she avoided him. 

“Huh. Text her and see if she’s okay.” James urged. 

“She probably wouldn’t like that.” Rafe hesitated, but took out his phone anyways. “I don’t want her to think I’m annoying.” 

“Then wait and text her later today. It’ll be fine, dude, don’t stress about it.” 

“I’m not stressed!” Rafe argued. 

James rolled his eyes and grabbed Rafe’s wrist, not letting go when Rafe objected and shoved up his sleeve. He inspected the peeling leather on Rafe’s watch band and dropped his arm, shaking his head. “You scratch up the leather on this when you’re stressed out. And those are new marks.” 

Rafe yanked his sleeve back down over the watch. “I didn’t think you picked up on that.” 

“Well Colin pointed it out first, but now I notice whenever you do it.” James shrugged. “It’s Sophie. She’ll come around.” 

“How are you so sure about this?” 

James shrugged again. “Like we said yesterday. You two are like, magnetic or some shit. There’s no way it won’t work out.” 

_ 

“He didn’t say a single thing to me all class!” Sophie exclaimed the second she walked through the door, huffing as the door slammed shut behind her. 

Both Allie and Julia lifted their heads from their work at their desks, completely unfazed by her loud entrance. She had recapped the events of the night (that she could remember, at least) yesterday morning over brunch, several mimosas, and they both had to talk her down from marching over to the Delt house right that second and asking for answers from Rafe. 

“Not one thing?” Julia asked, skeptical. 

Sophie flopped down dramatically onto the beanbag in the corner. “Well, okay, maybe a few things, but that was it. It’s like he didn’t even try.” 

Allie raised her eyebrows and shut her laptop. “What exactly did he say, Soph?” 

“He asked if I was running late, because, you know, I showed up later -” 

“So you wouldn’t have to talk to him.” Julia pointed out. 

“Only because he didn’t text me at all!” Sophie cried out, shooting a pointed glare her way. “And then he said he was just teasing and that was it.” 

“Did you give him room to respond?” Allie asked gently, trying to get her to see through her flawed logic. 

Sophie huffed, crossing her arms. “Probably.” 

“Oh, probably, that’s a solid answer.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want something with him or not?” 

“I…” Sophie faltered, thinking. “I mean, maybe, but not if he can’t even text me after we slept together.” 

“Well how big is he?” Julia grinned. 

Allie reached across the desk, swatting her arm. “Jules!”

“What?!” 

Sophie groaned, covering her face as a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t even know, guys, I told you I can’t remember anything after we got back to his house. I just remember trying to kiss him and then I woke up in his t-shirt.” She gasped. “Oh my god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Julia frowned. 

“What if I was that bad? Oh god, what if I was genuinely so terrible that he literally never wants to talk to me again? I can’t really walk when I’m drunk, so I’m probably not even good at fucking -” 

“Stop, stop!” Allie laughed, throwing a pencil at her from across the room. “I don’t want to hear the details. Are you even sure you hooked up?” 

“Yeah, why else would I be wearing his shirt?” Sophie reasoned. Her phone chimed and she froze, holding it up. “It’s Rafe. Should I open it?” 

“Yes, stupid, open the text!” Julia exclaimed, scooting her chair closer to see the phone. 

“Be nice!” Sophie scowled, unlocking her phone - and her jaw dropped. “Oh no.” 

“You are so dramatic.” Allie giggled, walking over to see. “What’d he say?” 

“Um...I might have made a mistake.” Sophie groaned, turning her phone to show two texts from Rafe yesterday, and one that had just been sent. 

Rafe, 8:30am Sunday: Everything okay? You didn’t need to leave

Rafe, 4pm Sunday: Hope you’re feeling alright today

Rafe, 10:15 Monday: Are you okay? 

Julia snorted. “Way to leave him on read, Soph.” 

“Jules.” Allie chided, frowning. 

“This is bad, isn’t it.” Sophie bit her lip, embarrassed. 

“It doesn’t look great.” Allie admitted. “But hey! He still checked in on you just now! You can make up for ignoring him.” 

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Sophie defended, already typing back a message. 

“Wait, don’t look too eager.” Julia tried grabbing at the phone and Allie swatted her hands away.

“Don’t listen to her, you’ve been playing hard to get for two and a half years. Eager is fine.”

Sophie paused, glancing between the two of her friends, then sent the text. “Al, if I regret this, I’m blaming you.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

After a moment’s pause with bated breath, her phone chimed again and she grinned, turning the phone away to hide the screen. “Okay, okay, you two can go back to studying.” 

Julia laughed, moving away with Allie. “Don’t forget to be nice for once.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sophie stuck out her tongue at Julia, but smiled anyways.

Sophie: yeah I’m good, just tired. sorry I didn’t see your other two texts

Rafe: I was beginning to think you were ignoring me haha

Sophie: no of course not 

Rafe: Good

Rafe: Do you want to come study at the house tomorrow night? We can be in the formal room it just seems silly to go all the way to the library when we live so close 

Sophie: what do we have to study for? 

Rafe: Tomorrow’s Tuesday, did you forget about our running study date lol 

Sophie: date huh 

Rafe: You know what I mean

Sophie: yes I’d love to come over, I’ll see you at the same time 

Once Rafe got Sophie’s final reply, he liked the message then let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t paid attention to a single thing in his economics lecture, focusing more on texting Sophie and her responses. As their professor dismissed the class, Rafe shut his laptop with a grin, turning to Colin. “Can I -”

“Yes, you can have my notes.” Colin rolled his eyes, walking out with Rafe. “You texting Sophie the whole time?” 

“Yeah, she replies slow - wait, how’d you know?” 

Colin laughed. “You were grinning like an idiot at your computer during the whole lecture, and you hate this class.” 

“Oh.” Rafe tried his best to fight the smile on his face, then shrugged. “We have a date tomorrow.” 

“Really, you actually asked her out? Good on you, man,” Colin said.

“Well.” Rafe hedged, rubbing his neck. “Not exactly. She’s just coming over for when we usually study for our class together.”

Colin groaned and shoved Rafe’s arm. “That’s not a date, idiot. Do better.” 

“I gotta take it slow!” Rafe protested.

“You’ve had your time taking it slow. Make a real move for once.” Colin said, shaking his head. 

_ 

Sophie showed up to the Delt house dressed a little nicer than usual, just enough so Rafe would notice, in a sweater and a skirt. She was more nervous than ever, fidgeting with the ends of her hair as she waited on the front porch. Rafe hustled down the stairs the second he got her text, greeting her at the door with a huge grin. “Soph, hey!” He glanced over her appearance, immediately regretting his t-shirt and sweatpants attire. 

His grin put her at ease and she relaxed, following him into the house. “Got a hot date after this or something?” He teased, leading her to the formal room where a few other boys were out studying.

“And what if I do?” She challenged, taking a seat opposite him at a table.

He raised his eyebrows, trying his best to not show any sign of disappointment. “Do you?” 

She blushed a little but kept his gaze. “I - no. I had a presentation for class.” She lied, embarrassed she had even tried so hard.

“You look good.” Rafe paused. “Really good.”

Sophie bit back a smile, shaking her head a little. “Thank you. Um, we should study, I don’t want to keep you busy for too long.” She slid out her notebook, showing him a few pages of meticulous notes for their debate topic. 

His notes, albeit messy, rivaled hers. “You actually prepared.” She said, impressed as she flipped through the pages.

He frowned a little. “I’ve been prepared every time. I’m not gonna let you down, Soph.” The words held more meaning than just talking about the group project and she did her best to ignore it, nodding as she skimmed over his notebook.

She paused, finger on a small note scribbled in the margin. “You wrote down my coffee order?” 

Rafe blushed, embarrassed, and snagged back the notebook. “Well yeah, I had to remember it somehow.” 

“That’s sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Less about us, more about the ethics of time travel.” He flipped to a fresh page, ready to take down more notes. The two kept up easy conversation for a while, not noticing the time passing as they worked. When Sophie realized she’d been there for over an hour and the conversation was still surprisingly dry, given what had transpired on Saturday, she reached across the table and snapped Rafe’s book shut. 

“Look, we should just talk about it.” 

“It?” Rafe repeated, raising his eyebrows cluelessly. 

“You know.” Sophie hinted, then huffed when he just looked more confused. “You’re gonna make me say it? Fine. Okay, since we slept together, you haven’t - what the fuck are you smiling for!” She scowled, crossing her arms. 

He was grinning ear-to-ear but leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Sorry, sorry go on.” 

“This isn’t funny, Cameron.” 

“That’s Mr. Cameron to you.” He teased. 

She ignored him, rolling her eyes. “Since we slept together you haven’t said a single thing about it. And whatever, I know I was drunk, but if I was really that bad -"

Rafe couldn’t keep the act up anymore and started cracking up, hardly able to keep eye contact. He doubled over, almost wheezing as he laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Sophie hissed, embarrassed as his loud laughter drew attention from boys walking by. 

He swiped his hand across his eyes, shaking his head as he let out a few more chuckles. “Soph, we didn’t sleep together. Not like that.” 

Sophie frowned and it was her turn to be confused. “Wait, what?” 

“You called me when you were drunk, I picked you up and you wanted to come back here, then you asked for clothes to change into to sleep.” A small blush crept up his neck and he looked a little shy. “Then, um, you asked me to come cuddle but I accidentally fell asleep when you did. And I woke up and you were gone.” 

She sat back in her chair, reeling as she processed this new information. “I didn’t sleep with you.”

“Not in anything other than the literal sense, no.” 

“Oh.” 

“See? Nothing to worry about. You were drunk, I wouldn’t have - you know. I just wanted you safe.”

At those words, she remembered him saying them that night. “And you practically saved my life.” 

Rafe paused. “Huh? I mean, you almost stepped out into traffic. But wait, you were hammered, how do you remember that?”

She rolled her eyes. “I remember practically everything even when I’m drinking, what do you mean?” 

“Practically everything…” he repeated, slowly. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head at her confession. His jaw dropped. “So you lied! About our first kiss!” 

“I...yeah.” Trapped in her lie, Sophie winced. “I don’t know why. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to think I go around letting just anyone kiss me when I’m drunk.” 

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “You kissed me, Sophie Flint. Not the other way around.”

She scowled at the name. “Oh, not the full name now, you’re making it sound like I’m in trouble.”

He hesitated, glancing down at his notes before looking back up at her. “Why’d you lie?” 

“I was nervous.” She admitted, biting her lip. “Maybe I thought you’d think less of me or something, I don’t know.”

He softened, reaching out across the table to take her hand. She let him, brain fogging over as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’d never think that, Soph.”

She took a moment too long to reply, distracted by his touch. “Okay. Good.” 

“Should we finish?” He asked, not letting go of her hand.

She was the first to let go, reluctantly pulling her hand back to her book. “Yeah. Um.” Sophie blushed, flipping through a few pages randomly to give her a moment to think. “Page 54, yeah?” 

_

The second Rafe waved goodbye to Sophie and let the door shut behind her, James and Colin practically ambushed him in the foyer. They had been ‘studying’ in the corner of the formal room, not-so-subtly giving Rafe multiple winks and thumbs up from behind Sophie’s back as they tried eavesdropping on their entire conversation. James clapped Rafe on the shoulder, grinning. “Ask her out yet?” 

“No.” Rafe responded, still confused from their conversation. They had gotten nowhere, yet they had also gotten...somewhere? “I held her hand.” 

“For two seconds.” Colin rolled his eyes. 

“Still something!” James interjected, ever-positive. “But dude, if you want something, you actually have to make a move. Like…” He pretended to lean in with puckered lips and Rafe shoved his head away, rolling his eyes.

“I know, dude. I gotta take it slow.” 

“You keep saying that.” Colin pointed out. “When are you actually going to do something about it?”

Rafe scowled. “Get off my back.” 

_

She couldn’t do it. She really couldn’t. 

Every single bone in her body wanted to just give in, be nice to Rafe, see if they could be a thing. But that would require letting someone in, being vulnerable, and Rafe Cameron of all people was not who she could do that with. (At least that’s what she told herself.) She could feel herself falling for him, and that freaked her out. 

Their study dates had gone from once a week at the library to twice a week at the Delt house. Never at Theta, she wasn’t prepared for the rumors that would fly and hearing girls speculate about a possible relationship. The reality check for her came when Julia called her out for waking up early for class just so she could put on a little extra makeup or make sure her hair wasn’t just thrown in its usual ponytail. “If you like him, just say something.” Allie had encouraged her, trying to give her the push she needed.

Sophie resisted, as usual. “There’s nothing between us.” 

They really only needed thirty minutes, max, to knock out their prep for their debate class, but Sophie found herself stretching out the time to an hour and a half, sometimes two. Rafe never seemed to mind, eager to keep discussing the merits of their side of the debate and to just see that spark in her eyes for a little bit longer as she spoke about something she was passionate about. 

Today had to be different. She set a timer on her watch the second she stepped through the doors at Delt, following Rafe through to their usual study spot. Sophie told herself she was only allowed to stay the thirty minutes, nothing more, and keep the conversation strictly to work. Maybe even be a little mean, if she had to, to push him away again. (It always worked before.) 

“How was your day?” He greeted her with his signature grin and she visibly winced, already feeling herself cave. She sat across from him and glanced at her watch. Twenty-nine minutes. God. She could do that. 

“Fine.” She replied shortly, not reciprocating. 

He nodded, unaware, and tapped his foot nervously under the table. “That’s good. So I was thinking, if you wanted to, maybe, after studying -"

“I can’t.” She cut him off. “I can’t stay long, I’m busy. Let’s just get this done.” 

“Oh - oh. Okay. Sorry.” He apologized needlessly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s whatever.” Sophie dismissed. “So I was thinking we focus our argument on these three main points…”

He tuned her out and just skimmed over the notebook she slid over to him, eyes tracing over the words but not truly reading any of them. Rejected. Huh. He didn’t even get the chance to get the words out, ask her to go get ice cream after. Maybe that would have been a stupid move anyways, considering it was the last week of October in Ohio and only forty degrees outside. Next time he’d think of a better plan, next time he’d -

“Rafe.” Sophie’s annoyed voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He jerked his head up. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “God, were you even listening? Pay attention.”

He resisted a frown, halfway paying attention now as she spoke. Did he do something wrong? He thought they were getting along, flirty even. Maybe he misread the signs. “What’s up with you today?” He asked, more concerned than irritated. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? Because your attitude seems like something.” He couldn’t resist pressing her buttons, just once. 

“I don’t have an attitude. Just trying to get this stupid homework done.” She snapped back.

He raised his hands in defense, a little taken aback. “Whoa, chill. We can get it done, you don’t have to be rude.” 

Sophie softened, just a little, and glanced at her watch again. 23 minutes. Maybe she didn’t have to entirely be an asshole. “Right.”

Rafe held her gaze for a moment, as if trying to read the thoughts running through her mind. “Okay. So I was thinking…” They kept a somewhat civil conversation, strictly related to their class, though Rafe could tell something felt off. She didn’t have the usual teasing lilt in her tone and he was too nervous to even try his typical flirting - his hand grazing against hers, or a sly comment here and there. 

After a few minutes of reading together from a new article on Rafe’s laptop, he spoke up. “Hey, Soph -” he started with a hint of a frown. 

“Sophie.” She corrected, keeping her eyes trained on the computer. 

Rafe’s face fell flat and he pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodding once. “Never mind then.” 

“What is it?” 

“I said never mind.” He repeated, shaking his head. 

The rest of the time was fairly quiet as they scribbled out notes for their arguments, sharing a relevant piece of information every few minutes. 

“Why’d you choose architecture?” Rafe asked after a few moments of silence, both of them reading over their textbooks.

“Study, Rafe.” Sophie reprimanded him with a bored tone, keeping her eyes on her book ‘til she finished the page. He glanced over her expression, trying to decide if she was serious or not, then went back to his book. 

“I thought it was cool. I like seeing the way things work, how buildings are crafted. Everything has a purpose.” She spoke after a moment. 

He smiled. “That’s cool. I can tell you like it.”

“You hardly know me,” Sophie pointed out. 

(Not true. He could read her like a book after all these years, knowing exactly when she was about to snap. She could do the same.)

 He frowned, feeling her putting up a wall, her typical defense mechanism when she didn’t want to admit the truth. “I think I do.” He argued, keeping her gaze. She rolled her eyes and broke eye contact first, dropping her eyes back to her book. 

He sighed, quietly, and returned to pretending to read. 

Sophie broke the silence this time. “Why are you studying film?”

He looked up, a little surprised she was taking interest. “Uh…” he trailed off, trying to think of how best to phrase it. “Movies were always my escape. If my dad was busy with work, y’know, like usual, he’d just throw on a movie for me and my sisters.” He smiled, thinking back. “I’m pretty sure I have Hercules memorized by heart now.” 

“That’s cool. My favorite Disney movie was Robin Hood.” Sophie mused, scribbling a couple notes in the margins of her book. She tried her best to keep an impassive composure, although she wanted nothing more inside than to spend hours just talking about his interests and seeing the way he beamed when she was interested too. 

“I never really liked him. Didn’t he steal from people?” 

“Not really, he stole from the tax collector and gave the money to the poor people.” She pointed out. 

“Oh.” Rafe paused, not sure if he wanted to continue the argument. “System’s in place for a reason, right?” 

Sophie wrinkled her nose, annoyance creeping into her tone. There was something about his indifference that made her just want to reach across the table and shake some sense into him. “Not when the government is creating an illegitimate tax system.” 

He shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I never watched that closely.” 

“Well I’m right, anyways.” She declared, lifting her chin a little in a challenge. 

“It doesn’t matter anyways, Flint, it’s a cartoon.” Rafe replied, slightly exasperated. There it was - back to last names. For some reason, it made Sophie madder than ever. She hated the way it rolled off his tongue so easily, like he knew her by nothing else. 

“It does matter, Cameron, it’s the principle of the thing.” She turned up her nose haughtily toward him, crossing her arms. She knew she was doing exactly what she shouldn’t do, chipping away at their already rocky relationship built on a foundation of uneven stone. “But I’m not surprised you wouldn’t care.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He retorted, mimicking her pose from across the table. 

“It means you’re a dick. Always relying on daddy’s money.” Sophie stood her ground, jaw set. The way she said it, it was too sure, too carefully crafted to hit just where it’d hurt. Casual, almost, as if it meant nothing to say that. Like she’d been waiting to use that line for ages. 

That stung more than he expected, even though he’d heard it before - just not from her lips. He shot his response back quickly, too quickly, and regretted the words the second they left his mouth. “At least I don’t have to work two jobs just to pay for college.” 

Her face turned to stone as she felt the heat creeping up her neck, threatening to expose her embarrassment. Sophie gathered her things quickly, carelessly shoving them into her backpack, then paused before leaving to look him straight in the eye. “That’s fucking low, Rafe, even for you.” She said quietly. The words hung in the air between them as she turned sharply on her heel and strode calmly away, trying to beat the tears on the verge of spilling over her cheeks. 

Her watch vibrated on her wrist just as she stepped outside, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Thirty minutes. Timed perfectly.

taglist: @obx-saltlife​ @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @oopsiedoopsie23 @taiter-tots @annedub​ @alexandracheers

[thestarsofthenight]

Chapter 1: The Land of Hope and Glory

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

Pairings: mainly Ciel Phantomhive/Elizabeth Midford

Summary: “There is nothing more ridiculous than living in a country in which an orange-skinned man won an election,” Francis had said, ending the Midfords four-year-long stay in the USA. Three days later, Elizabeth lives in gloomy London, wishing to be back in sunny LA, when a murder case suddenly turns her life upside down, entangling her with Ciel Phantomhive, his duty to the crown, and his school-intern detective agency...

Note: This is a retelling of the manga arcs (starting with the JTR arc) set in a Modern/School AU in which Ciel and McMillan have a detective agency at Weston (now accepting girls too) and Lizzy gets entangled with them after witnessing a murder. I hope you like it!

Navigation: Chapter Index

“The blood a hero sire hath spent/Still nerves a hero son.”

– A.C. Benson and Edward Elgar, Land of Hope and Glory

THE WHITECHAPEL COPYCAT ARC

London, England, United Kingdom – November 2016

“There is nothing more ridiculous than living in a country in which an orange-skinned man with dreadful hair won an election – and no, I don’t mean Oompa-Loompas, they are decent people,” Francis Midford had said, already packing together their things and thus ending the Midfords four-year-long stay in the USA.

If it had fully gone after Francis’ wishes, Elizabeth Midford would now live in Australia or Canada or perhaps even in a more exotic country, but Alexis Leon, her father, had managed to persuade his wife to go back to England, their old home – Brexit or not. After all, they had spent most of their lives there, were members of the old British gentry, and the history of their families was entangled with the history of the kingdom.

Therefore, Elizabeth was now running through the crowded streets of London, trying not to be late on her first day at her new school, while the stereotypical British rain was falling upon her. It was insane to change schools in the middle of the school year, but there had not been anything she could have done against it. At least, the school year had only started a couple of months ago. But it was still a bothersome procedure – a new school, new teachers, new schoolmates. Elizabeth had been with almost the same people in the middle and high school – but at her new school, the renowned Weston College, she didn’t know anybody besides her brother. She would be the stranger in a pile of already distinct groups.

Even if Elizabeth doubted that everyone at Weston would be a stranger to her.

Terribly wet and wishing that she would be back in Los Angeles, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin rather than the stinging rain, Elizabeth finally arrived in the school’s main building. Its official name was “Pearl Swan,” but everybody called it “Grey House” rather than “White House” because that would have been incredibly ridiculous.

Before the 1920s, Weston College had only been open to males. But now, even selected “normal” people – the children of parents who were neither rich nor noble – could attend it. With the change of the school system, the house classification had been abolished, and Weston College had become a day school and wasn’t a boarding school anymore. Now, the former four dormitory houses – Scarlet Fox, Sapphire Owl, Violet Wolf, and Green Lion – inhabited different school subjects: In Green House, P.E. and the sport clubs took place. In Purple House, music, art, drama, and dance was taught. In Red House, the pupils learned languages, manners, and cooking; and Blue House was the home of every other subject.

Still, Weston College mostly allowed rich and noble children to wander through their ancient, historical corridors, and, therefore, the percentage of “normal” pupils was quite low.

Fumbling her timetable out of her magenta leather bag, Elizabeth hurried through the white marmoreal corridors of Grey House.

It was 9.25, and Elizabeth had only five minutes to find out to which house she had to go for her first lesson. (She had already missed both the registration and the assembly.) And if she didn’t find her timetable in her bag soon, she would be late because the four old Houses were scattered over the huge campus. She could have gone to any ordinary school, but, of course, her parents had had to send her to a school whose premises were larger than three or four football fields together. And only because it was a Midford tradition to enrol their children in Weston.

Elizabeth sighed. The timetable seemed to have vanished inside the depths of her lovely bag – and why did she have to oversleep for the first time in her entire life today of all days? (It had only happened because Francis hadn’t been there in the morning for a change. She had been called by her sister-in-law very early in the morning, and Alexis hadn’t realised that it had now been his duty to make sure that both of his children got to school in time.)

If Elizabeth hadn’t overslept, her older brother Edward could have brought her to school, and on the way, she could have calmly searched for her timetable. Everything would have gone smoothly, but, of course, the universe had decided to turn her life into a silly romance novel beginning today – only without the slice of buttered toast in her mouth.

Now, I only have to run into a boy for whom I would fall immediately. And I would fall for him in the most disgusting and unrealistic way which was possible. After all, he would be “the great love of my life” and just like every over stupid romance “heroine” I would be strangled by the red thread, Elizabeth thought – and promptly collided with someone.

Elizabeth’s bag slipped out of her hands and because the bag was open, most of her belongings flew out of it. She landed on the hard floor and when she looked up she gazed into the eyes – no, eye, he was wearing an eye-patch over his right one – of a boy who, she had to admit, was actually quite cute despite the circumstance that he looked a bit feminine. But “him being cute” was not enough to start the magical “falling in love” process. If it had worked, she would have dumbly stared at him, perhaps even drooling onto her clothes and the floor.

Thank heavens.

“Are you all right?” the boy she had collided with asked, standing up before offering her a hand to help her up.

Hell – he is even nice! Good that this is still the reality and not a cheesy novel.

Elizabeth took his hand, and while she rose from the ground, she said: “I am fine. Thanks for asking.” When she was standing in front of the boy to her full height, Elizabeth had to realise that he was a few centimetres shorter than her.

Then, before anybody could say anything, the bell rang.

“Dammit,” Elizabeth cursed silently, quickly collecting her belongings and aggressively throwing them into her bag – and there was her timetable! Lying on the ground beside her chemistry book. She resisted the urge to kick it furiously into the next bin and simply picked up both things before saying goodbye to the boy and running to get to art.

And, of course, Purple House had to be at the other side of the campus which a glimpse at a map told her.

Hallelujah.

***

Art had been terrible. Elizabeth had been forty minutes late because she had missed the bus driving from Grey to Purple House. The school grounds were seriously so large that there were even buses driving between the six main houses. (The buses were colour-coded to make sure everyone – even Elizabeth – could figure out where they headed.) Her art teacher, Miss Julia Fray, had not been very amused of the fact that her new student had missed so much of her lesson, and Elizabeth’s new classmates had stared at her as if she was an alien. (As if they had never been late themselves.) That she had been still soaked in rain hadn’t helped much.

Now, fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth left Purple House and got into a bus which should bring her to Red House for English Literature.

I just want to go home, she thought while hugging her magenta bag. I want to go back to Los Angeles. Trump or not. I want to go back to my normal daily life full of sunlight, not-being late, and Red Velvet Oreos.

After Elizabeth had dropped out and entered Red House, she had to face another problem: Where was the English Literature Room? There wasn’t any room number on her timetable, and there were too many people walking around for her to see any signs or maps. Elizabeth already accepted the fact that she would be late again – and then, she saw a brown-haired girl who had also been with her in art.

I guess, she must have Literature now too... right?

Elizabeth fought her way to the girl and tapped her on the shoulder. Immediately, she started to scream and whirled around, her eyes wide.

“Hi,” Elizabeth greeted her with a smile. “I am Elizabeth Midford. Do you know by chance where Miss Lucie Doyle’s class is?”

After the girl had stared at her for a couple of seconds, she nodded and visibly relaxed. “Hello. I am Paula Sergeant. I also have Literature now – just follow me.”

Lucie Doyle, a woman with friendliness shining in her pale blue eyes, approached Paula and Elizabeth when they entered her classroom on time.

She extended a hand to Elizabeth. “You must be Elizabeth Midford. I am Miss Doyle – your Form Tutor and English Literature and Language teacher. I missed you during the registration.”

With an awkward smile, Elizabeth shook Miss Doyle’s hand. “I am terribly sorry, Miss. I overslept this morning and was completely overstrained with the school’s layout.”

“That’s all right,” Miss Doyle meant, smiling at her. “It’s your first day at Weston College after all. Also, you came to London only a few days ago. That must have been very stressful.”

Actually, the Midfords had arrived in London yesterday. That’s how fast their moving had gone. Three days ago, Francis had decided to leave Los Angeles, and now there were here: around eleven hours and almost 9000 kilometres away.

English Literature went better than art – after all, Elizabeth hadn’t been late this time –, but she had to realise that, to her misfortune, they were doing something entirely different than what she had done in America a few days ago.

Clearly, it wouldn’t be funny to rework everything.

And again – hallelujah. Thanks for everything, stupid election. Thanks, Donald Trump’s hairdresser.

***

Paula showed Elizabeth around during the break between 11.35 and 12.00 after they had spent half of English Literature exchanging notes. Paula introduced her to some of their schoolmates – shy Joanne Harcourt (He was a boy! Was every boy in this school feminine looking? Elizabeth had to take notes.), dashing Irene Diaz, the star of the Drama Club, and Grimsby Keane, her boyfriend (Okay, not everyone.) – and pointed at the Student Council when they passed by. Edgar Redmond, Gregory Violet, Lawrence Bluewer, and Herman Greenhill didn’t only have stu... interesting names but also attended Onyx Raven, the university part of Weston which had been created during the school’s reformation in the 1920s. (The name “Onyx Raven” sounded like the title of a Pokémon game, with its counterpart being “Pearl Swan.”) Paula told Elizabeth that always four of the university students formed the Inner Core of the Student Council for the entire institute. The Inner Core members were called “Council 4” or “C4” for short. Then, there were also their deputies and assistants – Cheslock, Maurice Cole, and Clayton – who belonged to the Intermediate Core. The Outer Core consisted of two pupils of each school year. For Year 10, it were Irene and Justus Siemens.

Also, Elizabeth told Paula about Los Angeles: How her family had moved there in 2012. How they had originally planned to stay only for a year, but fell in love with the city and stayed three more years until the next election which had been nothing but a total train-wreck. A ridiculous match between pest and cholera, Dolores Umbridge and Joffrey Baratheon, Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey. No matter what you chose, you would always get something utterly horrible.

Elizabeth looked around to find out if Edward was somewhere, but she couldn’t see him, and then, the break was already over.

She trudged through a lesson of Chemistry (The teacher was seriously named Merlin Morgan. As if he was a book character) and P.E. (It was quite boring to not being able to participate, but her P.E. clothes were still in one of the million boxes filling their villa like furniture) until Lunch Break finally began.

Paula and Elizabeth went to the cafeteria which adjoined Grey House. Elizabeth hammered her head against the table in frustration, and Paula tried to calm her down. But there was nothing to calm her down.

During P.E. Elizabeth had gone through her bag and noticed that her diary was gone. Her diary.

She was none of these girls who carried their diaries everywhere – even to the toilet. The only reason why Elizabeth had brought her diary to school today was because she had put it into her bag for the flight. And because she had been in a hurry this morning, she hadn’t been able to remove it. And now, it was gone, and she had no idea where it could be. Perhaps, she had lost it on her run to school or somewhere on the school grounds – she didn’t know. Actually, Elizabeth preferred her diary to have gone lost in the rain somewhere in the streets of London over a schoolmate having found and now reading it. She wasn’t a person who poured all her heart into a simple notebook, but she would still die of embarrassment if someone read it. And today was her first day at the new school.

I think, things couldn’t go worse now. I was already at the absolute zero point.

“I am certain that you will find your diary, Lizzy,” Paula said. Elizabeth had offered her one period ago to call her “Lizzy.” At home and in Los Angeles, everyone called her “Lizzy.” It was weird to be called “Elizabeth” all day long.

Elizabeth stopped hammering her head against the table and looked up. “Paula – I am fine. Stop talking about it.”

“But you are definitely not fine,” Paula replied. “You were hitting the table with your head.”

“I am fine now. I stopped doing it, so I am fine.”

Her new friend sighed. “Whatever you say, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth let her gaze wander through the cafeteria, searching again for her brother. But then, her gaze froze at the entrance door – no other than Cute Shortie into whom she had run into earlier was standing there and talking to a boy with funny reddish brown hair and round glasses. Paula followed Elizabeth’s gaze and tilted her head.

“They are Ciel Phantomhive and McMillan,” she told Elizabeth. “They belong to the ‘Phantomhive & McMillan Detective Agency – Chocolate for Investigating.’”

Elizabeth frowned. “Detective Agency?”

Paula nodded. “You can go there if one of your things is missing or anything like that, and they solve your case in exchange of sweets. The one with the eye-patch is Ciel, the detective and the agency’s leader. McMillan is his secretary and assistant.”

“Why do you keep calling him by his surname?”

Paula simply shrugged. “Everyone calls McMillan McMillan. I don’t think anybody actually knows his first name. Not even the teachers.”

“O-,” Elizabeth started to say before cutting herself off when she saw Ciel noticing and approaching her.

Don’t tell me the “Red String Strangle Magic” had worked on him. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

“You lost this earlier,” Ciel Phantomhive said to Elizabeth when he stood in front of hers and Paula’s table, handing her a blue velvet notebook with a soft Victorian pattern on it – her diary.

Okay – I have been wrong. I have just fallen beyond the absolute zero point.

Cute Shortie – I mean, Ciel Phantomhive – has read my diary. He. Has. Read. My. Diary. Hopefully, he just wanted to have my entire stock of Red Velvet Oreos which I had brought over from America and didn’t go around telling everyone about my diary’s contents.

I don’t pour my heart into it. Usually. But I did it once. On my darkest of days. And this entry contains my biggest secret nobody could ever know. And now, Cu- Ciel Phantomhive did, and who knows who would know about it soon? Or did already know?

Perhaps, I should give him the Oreos I have in my bag.

Wordlessly, Elizabeth took the diary. Ciel also didn’t say anything anymore and just went back to McMillan.

“Lizzy!” Paula exclaimed, blinking at the blue notebook. “Is this your lost diary?”

Like she had been mesmerised (Like there was a fairy sitting invisibly on her diary and looking into her unprotected eyes!), Elizabeth stared at her diary and slowly nodded.

“Yey! You have it back, isn’t it great? But why are you looking like the Earl has given you ectoplasm?”

I wouldn’t have this expression on my face if he gave me ectoplasm – ectoplasm was awesome.

Elizabeth’s confusion was strong enough to make her forget that her life was probably over now – and that after only fourteen years! She looked up and frowned at Paula. “‘The Earl’?”

Paula frowned back. “Uh... Ciel Phantomhive? The Earl of Phantomhive? The boy who came to our table a few minutes ago? Dark hair? A deep blue eye? Eye-patch?”

“‘Earl of Phantomhive’?” Elizabeth said, her eyes widening. “Do you mean that he already holds his family’s title? That he isn’t just, for example, the son of a Duke who was granted an extra title to his title of a Lord? That he is already the head of his family?”

Oh, God – I am the daughter of a Marquess and thus hold the title of a Lady. Cute Shortie, however, has already inherited his family’s “main” title – and the position as the family head – despite being in my age or perhaps even one or two years younger (probably not older, he is so short).

That he is holding this title means that his predecessor – most likely his father – is already dead.

“Uh... yes? He inherited the title after his parents’ death,” Paula told Elizabeth who could only stare at her with an open mouth. (Terribly unladylike, but then, they weren’t in the 19th century.)

Both his parents are dead?! I think I would die if Mum and Dad suddenly passed away in the foreseeable future. I couldn’t imagine living without parents at my age even though I know that there are far too many children in the world who have to live like that.

“Didn’t you know about it?” Paula asked, still frowning. “It was all over the news three years ago. ‘Head of the Funtom Corporation and Family Die In a Mysterious Fire.’ ‘Earl Phantomhive Son’s Ashes Not Found.’ ‘Who Burned Down Phantomhive Manor?’ ‘What Happened to the Company’s Heir?’ ‘Phantomhive Arsonist Still On the Loose.’ ‘Ciel Phantomhive’s Miraculous Return!’ ‘Where Had Ciel Been?’” she recited some of the news’ headlines. “The news about the fire was everywhere. For seemingly endless weeks, it flooded everything – the newspapers, the internet, the television... Everyone talked about it. Everyone wondered what happened to the missing ten-year-old boy. Groups of people searched for Ciel for weeks – until he magically returned. After his return, he was labelled ‘England’s saddest boy.’ Now, everyone is wondering where he had been and what had happened on the day of the fire.”

“Do they know it now? I mean, three years have passed after all.” Elizabeth had turned pale. This was even worse than she had imagined.

Paula shook her head. “No. Ciel refuses to talk about these topics, and his aunt does everything she can to ensure that the media does not harass him so that her nephew can live without having to fear that reporters jump out of every bush he passes by. There’s also a distant relative who leads Funtom Corporation until Ciel is old enough to do it on his own. He lost everything else on December 14, 2013 – his tenth birthday.”

OH. GOD.

“It happened on his birthday?!” Elizabeth yelled and quite a lot of people turned around to her. She ignored them.

Paula nodded with a sad expression on her face. “Yes. That’s why they are calling him ‘England’s saddest boy.’”

To hell – I doubt that THIS BOY could ever, ever read someone else’s diary, or at least, tell everyone about its contents.

First of all, he didn’t know me, and thus he had no reason to do anything like that to me. I didn’t go and punch him in the face today or anything like that after all.

Also, telling the world about someone else’s diary would not only draw attention to the diary’s owner but to the whistleblower too. And Ciel Phantomhive is DEFINITELY not a person who wants to draw a lot of attention to himself.

And the most definite argument: If he had seriously wanted to mortify me, he would not have given me back my diary. Of course, he could have made photos of the pages, but wasn’t keeping the diary more vicious? Also, Ciel didn’t seem evil or plotting or anything like that to me. He just seemed like a nice boy who wanted to give something he had found to its rightful owner.

I simply overreacted.

Elizabeth sighed in relief.

I am saved! My life isn’t over yet!

“I am going to get myself something to eat,” Elizabeth told Paula and stood up. “Should I get you something too?”

Paula shook her head and got out a lovingly filled lunch box. Just before Elizabeth walked to the food counter, she looked back to the cafeteria’s entrance – but McMillan and Ciel were already gone.

***

There is only one thing I was looking forward to when Mum announced that we would move.

With a wide smile on her face, Elizabeth ran all the way back to Midford Villa after the school had ended.

Alexis Leon Midford had brought the villa – a dream of black and white with five floors (counting the attic), one basement, three garages, and a huge garden with a pond – in 1997 after marrying Francis. Since then, the beautiful Victorian villa in Mayfair belonged to the Midford family. This had not changed when they had moved to the States – a convenient circumstance, considering their rushed return to England.

Elizabeth hurried through the enormous, brilliantly shining white entrance hall and up the red-carpeted stairs to get to her room. The new servants (their old ones had refused to leave America; Francis didn’t mind as she had been able to get new ones in no time) were running around like busy bees and packing out the many, many moving boxes. If they had also sounded like bees, a terrible noise would have gone through the villa and a policeman would be standing on the door because he had been called due to “breach of the peace.” Luckily, the servants did not make the annoying sound of bees while working. Getting into a fight with your new neighbours on your first day was never a good thing.

Elizabeth closed the door behind her and quickly exchanged the white and black school uniform with a pale orange knitted jumper, thick tights in pale rosé, and a black skirt. Elizabeth threw her school and exercise books out of her bag before grabbing the bag, her velvet coat which had a lovely, warm brown colour, her black boots and left her room again, putting on the coat and bag. She jumped around while putting on the boots when she passed by her father’s study.

“I am going out!” Elizabeth announced through the study’s opened door while getting into her left boot.

Alexis looked up from the newspapers he had been reading and frowned. “Didn’t you just come back, Lizzy? Can’t you eat something first?”

“I ate at school!” she yelled and hurried downstairs. She was out of the door before Alexis could reply anything.

When the Midfords had moved to Los Angeles, Elizabeth had been ten years old and too young to explore the city on her own. Now, back and fourteen, she was finally able to walk through the stunning streets of London all on her own.

I couldn’t await to meet London’s atmosphere, its life, in a new way – as a person different to the one who had left it all these years ago.

Elizabeth walked through Grosvenor Street before turning right into Bond Street before entering Burlington Gardens and some other streets – and twenty minutes later, she was standing in front of M&M’s World, every child’s biggest dream. It was the world’s largest candy store at 3250cm² – and Elizabeth was so happy to stand in front of it because there were only a handful of these stores existing in the world, and none in Los Angeles.

Just like A.C. Benson had said, England was really “the land of hope and glory.” Hope for almost infinite sweets. Glory for dentists.

How could she have lived in London for ten years without ever going here before?

Happily, Elizabeth entered Hea... M&M’s World, only to come out hours later with far too many sweets in her almost exploding bag. But actually, that wasn’t true: You could never have too many sweets. Just like you can never have enough sweets.

Perhaps, I should share some of my sweets with Cute Shortie. He may have enough money to buy M&M’s World (I quickly googled “Funtom Corporation” on my way to the candy store – he is truly one hell of a rich kid), but the gesture of someone giving him sweets out of nothing would certainly, hopefully, make him happy. At least, for a short amount of time.

Also, I have falsely accused him of being an arsehole who goes around and tells the contents of someone else’s diary. Cute Shortie may not know anything about it – I did it in my mind after all –, but I still feel that I owe him something as an apology.

It was already past seven o’clock (and because it was November, it was quite dark despite the glowing shop lights) and tomorrow was school, and perhaps, perhaps, Elizabeth should go home now..., but she had even resisted the urge to go into the Nickelodeon Store right next to M&M’s World... (Who had come up with that???) ... and she had always wanted to eat one of these famous Rainbow Bagels...

Before she knew what was happening, Elizabeth found herself on a Piccadilly Line train. She got out in Holborn and took the Central Line (The train was suffocatingly full!) to Liverpool Street. Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth stood in front of Beigel Shop, Brick Lane. Would she walk down the Brick Lane, she would eventually arrive at Aladin – the restaurant serving London’s best curry. Even His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, had eaten there.

She would go there on another day. The temptation was big, though.

Elizabeth entered Beigel Shop (It was a 24/7 shop! Rainbow Bagels all day long forever!) and ordered twenty Rainbow Bagels. They were just the right things to buy on such a grey day. Also, she was certain that even Francis would like them.

Alternatively to the sweets, I could give Cute Shortie one of the bagels – but first, let’s see if Edward and Dad don’t eat all of them immediately.

With a bag full of warm bagels, Elizabeth walked through various side streets to get back to Liverpool Station. Of course, she could have gone back the same way she had come – but her city exploration trip had only consisted of two stops today (Damn you, amazingness of M&M’s World for stealing time like teeth!), and Elizabeth wanted  to have something of a little “adventure” to make her trip less lame. Good that she had her smartphone with her. Good that she was not afraid of the dark.

And then, right before entering the quietest side street of them all, she saw something terrible on its other end.

Elizabeth Midford, fourteen-years-old, with M&Ms and plushies in her magenta leather bag and a bag full of Rainbow Bagels in her hand, stared at the scene in front of her – and watched a figure clad in black brutally stabbing an already unmoving body.