꧁✴٭˙| 𝑄𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑛 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑜𝑤 |˙٭✴꧂

꧁٭| 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑊𝐿𝑊

Characters

Quinn

Moody, gets in fights easily, sarcastic, past breast brown wavy hair. Fair skin. Lean frame, green eyes, total masc and tomboy

Intro

Rain tapped against the car window as I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, watching trees blur past in gray-green streaks. My headphones rested around my neck, music paused halfway through a song because apparently being forced into exile ruined even that for me.

“This is actually insane,” I muttered, pulling my sleeves over my hands. “You’re sending me to a boarding school in France.”

My mom didn’t look away from the road. “You say that like you’re being sent to war.”

“I’d honestly prefer war.”

“Quinn.”

I groaned dramatically and slouched lower in my seat. “An all-girls boarding school, Mom. With dorms. And uniforms. Do you hear yourself?”

“You need structure.”

“I need freedom.”

“You need consequences.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Oh my God, I skipped a few classes and got into one fight—”

“You punched a girl.”

“She was being annoying.”

“She had a concussion.”

“She was dramatic.”

My mom sighed the way she always did when I was testing the last thread of her patience. The car went quiet after that except for the sound of rain and tires against wet pavement.

I stared out the window again, jaw tight.

I didn’t want to go. I didn’t care how “prestigious” the school was or how badly my mom wanted me to “get a fresh start.” A fresh start sounded suspiciously like rich people language for please stop embarrassing me.

Then the gates appeared.

Tall black iron gates curled with gold details, slowly opening as the car approached. Behind them sat the school — huge stone buildings covered in ivy, glowing warm against the gloomy weather. Girls in dark uniforms crossed the courtyard with umbrellas, laughing like they belonged there.

Like they were born there.*

Meanwhile I was sitting in ripped black jeans, smudged eyeliner, and a bad attitude.

“This place looks haunted,” I mumbled.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It looks like the setting of a murder documentary.”

The car rolled farther onto the campus, tires crunching softly over gravel. My stomach twisted the closer we got.

I watched groups of girls glance toward the car.

Perfect hair.

Perfect uniforms.

Yeah. This was going to suck.