Chapter Text
Honora, Sophie decided, was an absolute hag.
No other way to possibly put it.
That pretentious gold digger had only been dating her father for what, two months? And thought it gave her the right to have opinions on family matters as if it was any of her business! Well it wasn’t.
It was all, “No Sophie, don't use your new step brothers as test subjects for that radioactive green face mask you're experimenting with,” and “No Sophie, don't set fire to every sheet in the house because it isn't satin-y enough,” or even, most absurdly, “No Sophie, don't tell me to go die in a ditch for calling you daughter, your father loves me and I just want to be a good stepmother to you.”
As if!
It had gotten completely out of hand. There was no way Honora actually liked Sophie's father, he was far too plain for any appeal. Meaning, that gold digger was after the family name. Her and her two little brat sons.
No sir, not on Sophie's watch. That condescending creep had to go!
However, Sophie could acquiesce, it was probably an oversight to assume her father would take the side of his own flesh and blood over that hag. Somehow she had still thought that when it really came down to it, he would choose her over, ugh, Honora.
It was a mistake that Sophie would most definitely not be making in the future.
It wasn't even that bad. All Sophie had done was snuck into her new stepmothers room while she was off volunteering at a children's shelter, gathered all the clothes in her closet and drawers, packed them into some slightly disgusting plastic bags she had found by the side of the road, and told one of the idiot neighbor kids to haul it off to the dump. It may have been Radley, but she hadn't really paid attention.
All in all, she thought it was a fairly polite way of telling Honora to kindly get the hell out of her house.
Her father, on the other hand, didn't take it quite so well.
Which explained where Sophie found herself now. A rough hand locked around her bicep, dragging her to an offensively scuffed taxi, her stepbrothers snickering in the background. Honora--the witch--had suggested boarding school as a “new environment” with “certified professional staff” to help Sophie “curb her erratic and hostile behavior,” and her father--the idiot--had taken the advice without a second thought.
This was it then. This is how her life falls apart. A hag of a stepmother shooing her out the door like Sophie was the intruder instead of her.
Sophie ground her heels hard into the pavement as her father tried to keep walking.
“Can’t you see she's just trying to get me out of the way?” She cried, “She wants me gone so she can have you all to herself and steal my limited edition Chanel coats and put those two vermin boys in my room and--”
“Sophie!” Her father finally exploded. “This is not me trying to get rid of you, this is discipline! You have gone entirely over the line and everyone in this house is sick of it!”
In a mumble so her father couldn't hear, Sophie added, “they shouldn't even be in the house.”
“You act like the entire world centers around you. Everyone has to bow down and worship the ground you walk on, is that it? Because I have news for you, young lady. The world does not revolve around you. Honora is doing her very best to make you feel comfortable, and this is how you treat her?” He shook his head and resumed dragging Sophie towards the taxi.
“I'm fed up with it. You're going to go to a proper boarding school with teachers stricter than I can be. Compared to some of the other disciplines I was considering, you got off lucky.”
Deposited firmly in the backseat, Sophie stared up in horror at her father as the true reality began sinking in. She was really being shipped off to boarding school. It wasn't Honora that her father was making leave, it was her!
That hag even had the audacity to stand in the background looking sympathetic and sincere, as if she hadn’t plotted this all from the beginning.
Her father let out a long heaving sigh that seemed to drain away most of the anger written into the lines of his body, leaving only the tired frame of a man aged ten years in the past two hours.
Almost gently, he offered Sophie the handle to her bright pink suitcase, packed by Honora once the decision had been made.
It was an olive branch.
After a moment staring at the outstretched handle, Sophie struck out and knocked it away, sending the suitcase tumbling to the pavement. Her father didn't look mad, only resigned, like he had known Sophie would never accept it.
And why should she? She didn't need the sympathy of that wretch. Honora probably hadn't even remembered to pack the thirty seven moisturizers that were essential to her morning skincare routine. Not even a chance of her having packed Sophie's favorite twenty eight perfumes. There was no way in hell that Sophie was accepting her charity.
Her father made his way around the taxi, put the suitcase in the trunk, and slammed the lid shut. The taxi driver called out something about running up the meter, but Sophie couldn't hear him. Everything was underwater.
Her father hesitated in front of the backseat door, hand hovering over the handle, mouth open like he was going to say something, before closing both his mouth and the door.
The gentle slam of the car door felt deafening to Sophie's ears, and she distantly registered the sound of the engine starting, and the taxi pulling away from her house, her father, her life.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Honora lift her hand to wave. She couldn't see from this distance, but Sophie imagined a cruel smirk on those lips. It was too much. She seethed and pulled her feet up onto the seat beside her, glaring daggers at the back of the head of the taxi driver who dared be an accomplice to this treachery.
Huffing, and shifting her glare to the passing scenery out the window, Sophie resolved to make the most of this situation. Her father wanted to use this to somehow prove the world didn't revolve around her? Fine. She would show him just how much the world revolves around her. Starting with her new classmates.
She didn't know them yet, but she had no doubts they would be quick to fall in line.
She was Sophie. The Sophie. Who could resist her?