The wedding anniversary fuller and more detailed more scenes of Ella’s full humiliation includes a prequel as well

[Revengedpirate]

Monday Morning – 7:00 a.m.

Part 1 of 5

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clatter of a spoon in a mug and the low hum of the extractor fan. Outside, the sky was still deciding whether to wake up. The light that came through the blinds was pale and unfocused, just enough to silver the edges of the countertop and catch the steam curling off the kettle.

Anita Cooper moved with practiced calm. Her jumper was soft grey, sleeves pushed up, and her dark jeans showed a faint line of flour from earlier. She stirred pancake batter with one hand and checked the toast with the other. She wasn’t the type to lose her cool before sunrise — not even on a Monday.

She glanced at the clock. 7:01.

“Showtime,” she said under her breath, flipping the first pancake into the pan.

Footsteps on the stairs. Light, quick, confident.

Alessia was first.

She entered the kitchen like someone arriving for a well-planned photo shoot: white blouse ironed crisp, black skirt sharp at the pleats, red-and-gold tie centered perfectly beneath her collar. Her socks were knee-length and even, her shoes polished to a shine. She looked exactly how a Year 7 student wanted to look on her first walk to school alone — neat, grown-up, capable.

“Morning, Mum!” she chirped, making a beeline for the orange juice.

“Morning, love.” Anita gave her a glance and nodded in approval. “Blouse is tidy. Hair looks good. You sure you don’t want me to walk with you today?”

Alessia rolled her eyes — dramatically, but still smiling. “Mum, I’ve practised the route five times.”

“I know, but I also know what it’s like out there. Roads, puddles, small boys on bikes…”

“I’ll survive.”

Anita handed her a plate with a pancake. “You’d better. I didn’t iron that blouse just for you to get splashed by a bus.”

“I ironed it,” Alessia said proudly.

Anita raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She was secretly impressed. And worried. And proud. All at once.

The room started to warm with the smells of toast and cinnamon. Alessia twirled a strand of hair around her finger and bounced slightly on her toes. She was always full of motion. Even when sitting, she fidgeted, clicked her pen, swung her legs. But today, her energy had a sharper edge. Excitement.

“It’s kind of cool, right?” she said. “That I’m walking to school on my own?”

Anita smiled and handed her a napkin. “It is. Just remember—”

“Don’t talk to anyone weird. Stay off the road. If anyone follows me, run into a shop and call you.”

“Excellent,” Anita said. “And you remembered everything?”

“Water bottle, bus pass, banana in my bag. I’m basically an adult.”

“You’ll always be a baby to me.”

“Muuum.”

“Alright, alright.”

They laughed.

At 7:10, another pair of footsteps echoed down the stairs — heavier this time, but dragging slightly, like someone hadn’t quite finished waking up. A familiar shuffle.

Gary appeared in the doorway, still in his soft lounge trousers and a dark blue T-shirt. His hair was a soft mess of curls, and his eyes were still squinting against the kitchen light.

“Coffee first,” he said, heading straight for the machine.

“Morning,” Anita said, smiling.

“Just barely.”

Alessia offered him a wide grin. “Morning, Dad!”

He blinked at her. “Why do you look like you’re about to give a speech in Parliament?”

“It’s my first solo walk to school,” she said proudly.

Gary pressed the coffee button. “In that case, I’m proud of you. But if I see you in the newspaper for jaywalking, we’re going to have words.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Must run in the family.”

He kissed Anita on the cheek, lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and gave the back of her neck a light rub. They shared a quiet glance. A moment of warmth passed between them.

Then Anita turned back to the stove. “Three down. One to go.”

Gary sighed. “Still in bed?”

“Almost definitely.”

They didn’t need to say the name.

Ella.

[Revengedpirate]

Monday Morning – 7:20 a.m.

Part 2 of 5

The front door clacked loudly, followed by the sound of high heels striking laminate flooring. The rhythm was fast and confident, a beat too sharp to be anyone else in the family.

Joanne swept into the kitchen like a small hurricane in navy blue. Her stewardess uniform was crisp and precise, the neck scarf tied in a neat knot at her collarbone, her travel case rolling behind her with a soft click-click across the floor. Her ponytail was slicked back and sprayed into perfect shape.

“Is there time for toast or is this another one of those ‘coffee-is-a-meal’ mornings?” she asked the air, her voice slightly breathless but bright.

“You’re early,” Anita said, glancing up from the hob.

Joanne made a face. “Don’t say that — I might combust.”

She dropped her travel case next to the coat rack and headed for the counter, reaching for a mug without asking. “I had to do my own nails last night. Can you believe it? Cuticle crisis at midnight.”

Alessia gave a quiet laugh, eyes wide as she looked at her older sister with a mixture of awe and amusement. “Do you really get to stay in hotels every night?”

“Just for this week,” Joanne said, pouring herself tea. “Rome tonight, Madrid Wednesday, back Friday. If no one sets the oven on fire while I’m gone.”

“Not my fault last time,” Gary murmured.

“Joanne,” Anita said mildly, “you’re aware you’re not actually a rock star?”

Joanne gave a theatrical sigh. “Let me dream.”

She popped a slice of bread into the toaster, then turned toward Anita again. “By the way, I’ll be home Friday night — just in time for the party. But… I need a favour.”

Anita paused mid-pancake flip. “You want me to clean your room, buy your present, or pick out your dress?”

“Dress, please. Something with sparkles but not ‘Look At Me.’ Chic. Mature. But still fun.”

“You know you’re describing a unicorn.”

“That’s why I need your help.”

Gary leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. “Don’t you own seventeen dresses already?”

“They’re all wrong,” Joanne said. “Too tight, too short, too navy.”

“I didn’t know navy was a problem,” Anita said.

“It is when you wear it six days a week,” Joanne muttered.

“Alright, fine. I’ll find something,” Anita said, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Just don’t send me another Pinterest board at midnight.”

“Deal.”

As Joanne buttered her toast, Alessia sat perched on the edge of her seat, watching every move. Joanne was her cool older sister, the one who brought back foreign snacks and stories about rude passengers and faraway cities.

Gary, meanwhile, had slouched comfortably into his place at the table, elbows on the wood, watching the show unfold. He liked this — the mess, the noise, the flurry of morning. It was chaotic, but it was family.

Then came the sound they were all half-expecting: a thump upstairs, the groan of floorboards, the dragging shuffle of feet — followed by a muffled door slam.

Anita didn’t need to check. “She’s up.”

Joanne glanced at the clock. “And right on time for the world’s shortest conversation.”

Alessia giggled. “I bet her tie’s still in her bag.”

“I bet she left her socks in the kitchen again,” Gary added.

Anita exhaled through her nose. “Let her be. It’s Monday.”

“You said that last Monday,” Joanne said.

“And the one before that,” added Alessia, smiling sweetly.

Gary leaned toward Anita and whispered, “I’ll take your pancake hostage if I have to referee.”

She gave him a side-eye but let the smile creep across her lips.

Then they all turned toward the kitchen doorway — waiting, expectant, like the start of a play where everyone knows the main character is always late, and always arrives in a stormcloud.

[Revengedpirate]

Monday Morning – 7:30 a.m.

Part 3 of 5

Ella appeared in the doorway like a cloud rolling in over an otherwise sunny sky.

Her hair was brushed — just enough. Her blouse was white, but wrinkled and slightly untucked at one side. The tie — blue and green stripes instead of Alessia’s red and gold — hung loose around her neck like it was strangling her soul. Her socks didn’t quite match in height, and her black shoes scuffed the threshold with every step.

Her expression, even half-awake, was a blend of sulk and suspicion. She hovered in the doorway for a moment, glancing at the table, then at everyone seated around it.

No one spoke at first.

“Morning,” Anita said gently, as if testing the water.

Ella gave a low grunt that might have been a reply. She crossed to the counter, pulling open the cupboard without a word.

“Your tie’s wonky,” Alessia offered brightly, chewing the last bite of pancake.

Ella didn’t look at her. “So?”

Alessia blinked, shrugged, and leaned back in her chair. “Just saying.”

Ella grabbed a bowl, poured cereal with barely enough milk, and dropped into the chair furthest from her sister. The chair that always wobbled slightly. She didn’t complain — didn’t say anything at all — but her body slumped like she was holding up a building with her shoulders.

“Eat something warm?” Anita asked, sliding a plate of pancakes toward her.

“I’m fine.”

Gary, seated opposite, watched the scene quietly. He waited until Ella had taken one miserable bite before speaking.

“You know,” he said, “some people smile in the mornings. It’s legal now.”

Ella didn’t rise to it.

“She’s allergic to smiling,” Alessia muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”

“Good.”

Joanne stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. “And on that note — I’m off to charm angry tourists and pretend turbulence is relaxing.”

She leaned over and gave Alessia a hug, pecked Anita on the cheek, and offered Gary a lazy salute. Her eyes skimmed past Ella, then came back again — uncertain.

“Bye,” she said.

Ella mumbled something that didn’t sound like “bye” but might have been close.

Joanne gave Anita a quick nod. “Text me if anyone explodes.”

“Only if it’s spectacular.”

The front door clicked shut behind her.

Ella stabbed her cereal with her spoon like it had personally insulted her.

Across the table, Alessia leaned in just slightly, as if trying to fill the space left behind by Joanne’s exit. “You’re wearing my socks.”

Ella didn’t look up. “No, I’m not.”

“They’re mine.”

“You don’t own socks, Alessia. Mum buys them in packs.”

“Yeah, and those were in my drawer.”

“By accident.”

Anita sighed. “Girls.”

Ella’s voice was low and sharp. “Don’t call me that.”

Everyone paused.

Gary sat back slowly. “Hey. Let’s try that again — maybe with less venom.”

“I didn’t sleep,” Ella muttered.

“That’s not an excuse to snap at your mum.”

Ella pushed her chair back a little — not quite standing, not quite staying seated. “I didn’t snap. I just don’t like being lumped in with her.”

She jerked her head toward Alessia, who was now very still.

Anita stepped in, voice calm but firm. “You’re sisters. No one’s lumping anyone.”

“Well, it feels like it.”

Gary frowned. “Ella.”

Ella grabbed a slice of toast from the plate and tore a bite off like it owed her money. Her eyes flicked to Alessia’s neat uniform, her perfect ponytail, her empty plate already in the sink. She looked like she belonged in a brochure. Ella felt like a crumpled receipt.

Alessia didn’t meet her gaze. But she smiled. Slightly.

That irritated Ella more than anything.

At 7:55, Anita placed two packed lunchboxes on the counter. “You’re leaving at eight. Alessia, you remember the walking route?”

“Of course.”

“Ella, I want you two to stick together.”

“I don’t need—”

“I said together.”

Ella groaned and stood up abruptly, tossing the rest of her toast on the plate.

As she passed the coat rack, she snatched her hoodie — black, oversized, sleeves long enough to hide her hands — and tugged it on over her crumpled uniform. She didn’t zip it up. Just let it hang, loose and defiant.

“Great,” she muttered. “We can look like one of those annoying school YouTube channels. ‘Sisters on the Go.’ Ugh.”

Alessia, already putting on her blazer, grinned. “Can we get matching lunchboxes next?”

Ella shot her a withering look.

Anita, arms folded, watched them like a referee who hadn’t decided whose foul was worse.

Gary cleared his throat. “Ella. Ease up.”

She didn’t answer. But the door opened. And then both girls stepped out into the grey morning light — Alessia with a light spring in her step, and Ella dragging behind like a shadow.

[Revengedpirate]

Monday Morning – 8:05 a.m.

Part 4 of 5

The front door clicked shut.

Silence settled over the kitchen like mist. A pancake still sat cooling on a plate no one had claimed, and Ella’s abandoned toast was slowly curling at the corners. The kitchen, only minutes ago full of chatter and chairs scraping and spoons clinking, now felt like the aftermath of a small storm.

Anita leaned back against the counter and let out a long, slow breath.

Gary glanced up from his mug. “And now… the debrief.”

She didn’t answer at first. Just pushed a crumb across the worktop with one finger, eyes still on the front door.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do mornings like that,” she said softly.

Gary didn’t make a joke. He just nodded, letting the weight of it land.

“She’s so…” Anita trailed off, searching for the word. “Sharp. Like everything’s a threat. Like we’re the enemy.”

Gary sipped his coffee. “She’s fifteen.”

“So was Joanne.”

“Joanne yelled at a dog once for wearing a jumper. Let’s not pretend she was an angel.”

Anita gave a small, tired laugh.

“I just don’t want it to stay like this,” she said. “That hoodie. That scowl. The way she won’t look at me unless she’s arguing. It’s like… she’s trying to be difficult.”

Gary stood and walked to the sink, rinsing his plate. “I don’t think she’s trying. I think it just is difficult. For her. For you. For everyone.”

“She’s always braced. Like she’s expecting to be knocked over.”

“She probably is.”

Anita watched his face. “Do you think it’s me?”

Gary turned to her. “No. I think it’s life.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s vague and unhelpful.”

“I’m a man of mystery.”

She chuckled and finally stepped away from the counter. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him. They stood like that — still, warm — in the centre of the messy kitchen.

“Do you think I was too hard on her?” she asked after a moment.

Gary rested his chin on her shoulder. “No. I think you were fair. Calm. Annoyingly balanced, actually.”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“She hates Alessia.”

“She resents Alessia. Different thing. And Alessia knows it — she’s just pretending she doesn’t.”

Anita leaned her forehead into Gary’s chest. “It was easier when she was little.”

“It always is. They cry, you cuddle them. They fall, you put a plaster on. Teenagers don’t want plasters. They want you to back off and somehow also read their minds.”

“Exactly,” Anita whispered. “It’s like she wants something I can’t give her. And she doesn’t want to ask, because she’s convinced I’ll say no.”

Gary kissed her temple. “She’s a teenager. She’s angry at everything. Herself most of all.”

They stood there for another minute.

Then Anita pulled back, clearing her throat. “Okay. Reset. You’re working from home today?”

“I am,” he said. “I will be upstairs, pretending to understand spreadsheets.”

She smiled. “Try not to nap by accident.”

“No promises.”

She paused at the foot of the stairs, looking back over the kitchen — Ella’s half-finished cereal, Joanne’s tea mug, Alessia’s juice glass still rimmed with a smile-shaped sip.

“Do you think she knows I’m proud of her?” Anita asked.

“Alessia?”

“No. Ella.”

Gary met her gaze, quiet for a moment.

“I think she knows,” he said. “But I also think she doesn’t believe it yet.”

[Revengedpirate]

Monday Morning – 8:10 a.m.

Part 5 of 5

The pavement was wet with last night’s rain, though it wasn’t raining anymore. The sky hung low and white, like a crumpled bedsheet, and the hedges along the Cooper street glistened with dew.

Alessia walked with a bounce in her step, swinging her rucksack by one strap. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She could hear Ella behind her — trainers scuffing the pavement, backpack slung too low, black hoodie hanging like a protest flag over her shoulders.

Ella hadn’t said a word since they’d left the house.

Alessia glanced sideways without turning her head. “You walk like you hate the ground.”

Ella didn’t reply.

They passed Mrs Hanley’s gate — the one with the flower pots that always tipped over. Then the old willow tree near the park. Then the bus stop where the twins from Year 8 liked to spit chewing gum onto the pavement.

“You can walk ahead if you want,” Ella finally muttered. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

Alessia shrugged. “Mum told us to stick together.”

“Of course she did.”

The silence stretched between them like a rubber band — thin, tense, ready to snap.

Alessia slowed down a little so they walked level. “You know… I didn’t mean anything. About the socks. Or your tie.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I just thought—”

“You always ‘just thought.’”

They walked a few more steps. Ella stared down at her feet. Alessia stared ahead.

“You’re always perfect,” Ella said suddenly, like the words had jumped out before she could stop them. “It’s like your whole life is curated.”

Alessia blinked. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re like… a Pinterest board. You wake up, your hair’s already nice, your skirt’s straight, everyone likes you.”

Alessia was quiet for a second. “Mum says you’re smart.”

Ella snorted.

“She says you’re sharp and funny and stronger than you think.”

“Yeah? Then why does she act like I’m radioactive?”

“She doesn’t.”

“She flinches when I talk.”

“She worries when you talk.”

They passed the corner shop. The owner was out front, unrolling a mat. He nodded at them. Alessia nodded back. Ella ignored him.

“Joanne barely speaks to me,” Ella said, out of nowhere. “Gary just jokes all the time. You keep smiling like that makes everything okay. And Mum… I don’t know. I feel like I can’t do anything right in that house.”

Alessia didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t say anything.

They walked in silence past the church and the nursery and the bike racks near the high street.

When they reached the school gates, Alessia stopped.

Ella kept walking.

Alessia called out softly, “You know you are part of this family, right?”

Ella didn’t turn around. She just raised her hood, pulled it over her head, and kept walking.

And still — somehow — she slowed her pace.

Just enough that Alessia could catch up if she wanted to.

[Revengedpirate]

Monday, 9:05 a.m. – Tutor Room 3B

Ella slumped into her usual seat near the back of the classroom, tugging the hood of her black jumper down as far as it would go. Her school blouse was creased from being crumpled on the floor overnight, her tie barely knotted and lopsided beneath her collar. Her socks were mismatched, though nobody could see under the table — and that was how she preferred it. Invisible. Or at least unbothered.

Unfortunately, Kelly Prescott had no intention of letting that happen.

Kelly was already seated, centre row, immaculate as ever — blonde hair tucked behind one ear, blue eyes darting over her reflection in her phone screen. Her tie was perfectly aligned, her blazer pristine. She spotted Ella immediately, and her glossy lips curled into a slow, deliberate grin. The Cheshire Cat smile.

“Rough morning, El?” she whispered just loudly enough to be heard. “Did the iron go on strike?”

Ella didn’t answer. She dropped her bag to the floor and sat down hard, flipping her form booklet open to the page she never filled out properly.

From the front of the room, Mr. Leonard was scribbling something onto the whiteboard with a dry-erase marker that squeaked with every letter. “PSHE Today: Responsibility and Digital Citizenship,” it read. His back still turned, he spoke flatly.

“Phones away, please, Kelly.”

Kelly rolled her eyes theatrically but obeyed, tucking her phone into her skirt pocket. She cast one last smirk at Ella.

Seated beside Ella was Leah Barnes, calm and understated as always, her long braid swinging as she turned to whisper, “Don’t let her get to you.”

On Ella’s other side, Amber Davies leaned in too. “Seriously. She only acts like that when she feels threatened.”

Ella snorted softly. “What, by me?”

“She’s obsessed with you,” Amber replied. “It’s creepy.”

Mr. Leonard turned around just as Ella muttered under her breath, “She can shove her digital citizenship.”

He looked straight at her.

“Ella Cooper. Something you’d like to share with the group?”

A flush of red crept up Ella’s neck. “No.”

“No, what?”

She clenched her jaw. “No, sir.”

His tone sharpened. “You’re in Year Eleven now. I expect better manners and attitude than that. If you’re not prepared to show some respect, you’ll find yourself sitting at the front. Permanently.”

Leah glanced sideways, concern etched across her face. Amber frowned and mouthed seriously? toward the front.

Kelly stifled a laugh.

Ella wanted to melt into her chair.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, louder this time. “She—” She nodded at Kelly, whose face was the perfect picture of innocence.

“Stop blaming others,” Mr. Leonard snapped. “Take some responsibility for your own behaviour. You come in late, looking like you’ve rolled out of a hedge, and the moment someone talks, you’re muttering under your breath.”

Kelly’s lips twitched again, a smirk born of triumph.

“That’s not fair,” Ella whispered.

Mr. Leonard ignored her and moved on. “Today’s discussion is about how we present ourselves online and the impact of our words. Amber, can you read the scenario on page three?”

Amber hesitated before reading. Her voice was steady but dull, like her enthusiasm had drained out with the injustice of what just happened. Ella didn’t hear a word of the scenario. She was too busy glaring at Kelly, who sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap, chin lifted, basking in the glow of not being caught.

Leah passed her a folded note under the desk:

“You’re not in the wrong. He never tells her off.”

Ella smiled faintly.

And then, for reasons she wouldn’t later be able to explain, she picked up her pen and scrawled something impulsively across the back of the note. Her words weren’t clever or even funny — they were raw and a little pathetic, the kind of thing you only admit in your head:

“I hate being in here. Everyone looks at me like I smell. I wish I was invisible or pretty like Kelly. Or just not here.”

She didn’t sign it. She didn’t have to.

She folded the paper once, twice, and nudged it beneath the table toward Amber, who blinked in surprise but reached down to pick it up.

Unfortunately, Mr. Leonard saw everything.

His voice cut through the quiet like a buzzer. “Ella Cooper.”

The blood drained from her face.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing.”

“Then hand it over.”

Ella froze.

“Now.”

Reluctantly, she passed the note up the aisle. Amber opened her mouth as if to protest, but Mr. Leonard held up a hand to silence her.

He unfolded the paper. Read it.

Then smiled. But not kindly.

“If we’re going to talk about digital responsibility, let’s start with honesty in the real world,” he said, loud and clear. “Ella, would you kindly stand up and read your note aloud to the class.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“You’re joking,” Ella said quietly.

“I’m not.”

“Please don’t make me.”

“Now, Ella.”

Her chair scraped back. Her legs felt hollow. Her fingers shook as she took the paper from his hand. She held it like it burned.

Everyone was watching.

Even Kelly, who had gone strangely still.

Ella cleared her throat. Her voice cracked.

“I hate being in here. Everyone looks at me like I smell. I wish I was invisible or pretty like Kelly. Or just not here.”

Silence.

Amber’s eyes widened in horror.

Leah blinked rapidly, her lips parted, stunned.

Kelly stared — not laughing, not gloating, just watching.

Mr. Leonard blinked. For a moment, even he looked like he’d stepped too far.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “Now maybe you’ll think twice about what you write down — and about throwing pity parties during tutor.”

Ella didn’t sit down. She walked.

Out the door.

And this time, nobody stopped her.

[Hooked6]

It is good to see another post from you. That said, and it is probably just me, but I am Totally LOST in this thread. You recently started posting to your original story, The Wedding Anniversary, (a classic in its own right to be sure). I was eagerly looking forward to seeing the next chapter of that story when this post shows up. I am really confused as to the timeline as to how these posts fit in or the continuity with the original story.

Are you re-writing, The Wedding Anniversary, all over again?? It must say it will be hard to top what you have already written. Are these chapters a prequel to the original story or do they belong after the last chapters you posted in the original story? Do these chapters belong sometime in the future? Like I said, I am lost.

My personal preference is that I hope you go back to the original and continue with the last chapter you posted. You were definitely on a roll there and left us hanging.

At any rate, I could use some clarification as to where this new thread fits in.

Thanks.

..

[Revengedpirate]

Monday, 9:04 a.m. – Tutor Room 7C

Alessia Cooper tucked her knees under her chair and twisted sideways just enough to face Chloe Harper without catching Miss Everett’s eye. The room smelled of glue sticks, banana from someone’s half-eaten breakfast, and the faint coconut scent of Chloe’s hair, which Alessia definitely hadn’t noticed on purpose.

“Your fringe’s gone wonky,” Alessia whispered.

Chloe reached up, smoothing it down, eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. It’s cute,” Alessia added, softer.

Their hands bumped under the table. Not on purpose — but neither of them moved away.

Miss Everett swept into the room just then, full of Monday energy, her white Converse squeaking against the floor tiles. “Morning, darlings!” she called. “Everyone alive? Just about? Planners out, please!”

Around them, chairs scraped and backpacks shuffled. Alessia opened her planner, decorated with sunflowers, rainbows, and a smiling llama sticker. Chloe’s was still mostly blank, save for Alessia’s bubble writing doodled across the cover: Chlobug

“Did you tell your mum you’re walking to school now?” Chloe asked under her breath.

“Yeah. She told half of Surbiton. Anita made a massive deal. Said I was officially a grown-up and offered to take a picture like it was Year 6 again.”

Chloe snorted, then leaned her chin into her hand, watching Alessia scribble something onto her planner.

“What’s this?” she said, pointing at a small heart drawn beside Saturday’s square.

Alessia smiled slyly. “Grandparents’ wedding anniversary. Anita’s side. Big family party.”

“Ohhh. Will I finally meet your infamous Aunt Louise?”

“Probably. She calls me ‘Miss Sparkle’ and gives everyone prosecco. I think she thinks I’m still ten.”

“Ten-year-olds don’t hold hands under the table,” Chloe said.

This time, their fingers touched on purpose.

Miss Everett’s voice interrupted them gently. “Alessia, Chloe — you’re not planning your Saturday night already, are you?”

“No, Miss,” Alessia said quickly, cheeks warm.

“Because if you are,” the teacher went on, grinning, “you’d better invite me to this anniversary party.”

“It’s black tie,” Alessia said proudly. “Even the dog’s getting a bowtie.”

Laughter broke out across the classroom.

Miss Everett chuckled. “Sounds fabulous. Now then, who can tell me something positive they’re looking forward to this week?”

A few hands went up. Alessia’s wasn’t one of them, but she turned to Chloe anyway and whispered, “You, obviously.”

Chloe looked at her sideways, her eyes glittering.

“Ditto.”

They didn’t kiss, not here, not yet — but Alessia couldn’t stop smiling. It sat under her skin like sunshine.

This morning didn’t feel like school.

It felt like the start of something.

[Revengedpirate]

This is the prequel leading up to the anniversary party I saw more easier ways of humiliating Ella at school before the party

[Revengedpirate]

Also didn’t want to add to the original post as I can add more there too. The prequel will be more about the family dynamics and how Ella fits in to life before the party