Hi all, Memai here. I’m sure you remember my other story “Anglophilia”. I promised I’d rewrite it, so here it is! Tell me what you think.

Bully and all it’s characters are © Rockstar Vancouver

Original characters and settings © Me, myself and I

(I might also feature some characters that belongs to friends from time to time :3)

Tell me what you think!

God Save the Girl

a c t . 1 – Hello

- - - - -

Time never played fairly on her side. Never once. Roxanne Smith was what she was, a girl doomed to forever follow and oblige to her parents' wishes, regardless of how unnecessary or mad their requests may be. Still, they were her parents and they lavished her with gifts, it was only fair to pay them back in a form of supposed gratitude and wish fulfillments.

She was a little unlike most English girls her age; while most had went out with friends for the weekends and planned trips for the summer, Roxanne would quietly sit at home and much preferred to read over her father's medical journals and textbooks. Girls her age saved their allowance or promised to wash the dishes for three months straight just to get a deliciously expensive Aquaberry coat or a new pair of skin boots. Roxanne would only have to point at the pretty pictures on the designer website and ask for mummy to buy it off for her.

And most girls of her status and wealth, were stuck up and at best, and a little bit haughty and rude. Roxanne was far too timid and shy to even tell someone off, much less brag about her purchases or achievements. Most girls of her age and status respectively, were also much taller than she was. Standing at only 5'2", it had taken the little blonde girl sixteen long painful years to realise that she only barely skimmed the average teenaged height when wearing a pair of obnoxiously seductive pumps; Westwoods and all.

There weren't any girls like Roxanne, partly because she was always considered too plain. She had pretty blue eyes, but living in a place like England, blue eyes were a dime-a-dozen. The cheerleader in her old school sported a pair of dark ones, and those had the boys raving over how mysterious she was. "Dark eyes, I mean, wow. Look at 'em! Never seen someone with a colour like that. They were right though, 'bout the person havin' them being more mysterious. Doesn't help that she's sexy too!"

Blonde hair styled into a bob-cut; fuss-free and plain, perfect for the school environment, perhaps. But her fashion designer mother constantly lamented her daughter's lack of a sporting attitude to do anything drastic to it. Perhaps a better shade? Highlights? A new cut? And while her clothes had extraordinary tags and labels (and not forgetting the prices. Dear God, the prices!), they were as plain as they came; a pea-coat in a shade of navy blue with a pair of flat heeled boots ideal for the fall and winter season, while white halter necks and low-cuts were her choice for the spring and summer (truth be told, she liked to admit she could wear them well; after all, it was the only perk of having a flat chest).

And with her wealth and family power, it was only natural for her to settle into a private school in posh and upper-class Kensington. She only made only one friend, and even said friend had to impose the relationship, otherwise the dear girl would've been bullied mercilessly! Too much and too little bravado, it seemed, always spelled out trouble.

All the same though, her one chance at perhaps distancing away from her socially inept persona was quickly taken away from her, for her father had announced of setting up a hospital in the New England area of America.

"Great..." she recalled with a sigh, "... moving."

Most children her age, dreaded moving out of their home, let alone their country, for fear of having to start anew and leave old and trusted friends behind, being away from all that is familiar and safe. She didn't have many friends and she stayed at home more than anyone would care to mention, but she dreaded the move because of one very particular boy.

"Oh but dear!" Her mother exclaimed, "You'll get to see Derby again! My, you two haven't seen each other for such a long time, haven't you? Goodness gracious, I bet he's a handsome devil now, hmm?"

"D-Derby?"

Ah, yes, that Harrington boy. Roxanne recalled how she met the bleach-blonde bastard; holidaying in Brighton Beach couldn't be sweeter for then six year old Roxanne, she got a new suit and all sorts of toys to play in the water, it'll be such a lovely summer! Sad to say that two boys weren't happy with her falling all over their sandcastle ("It looks like a lump," she said to them after dusting herself off). Needless to say, harsh playground words were used to express their childish anger towards her, and sent the girl into a crying fit.

In comes Derby brandishing a forgotten stick, telling the boys to leave her alone, lest he sounds the alarm and send the cavalry in (which really was, two personal assistants who looked onto the scene bemused and thinking back on their own childhood). Ever since then, the two families had been close friends.

While Roxanne and Derby hardly saw each other in person since the age of eleven, the Harringtons and Smiths made it a point for frequent telephone calls, emails exchanged and sending hefty, expensive gifts to one another.

Packed were her Louis Vuitton cases and all set to go were the family, as father, mother and daughter hurried into the back of a sleek black luxury car on their way to Heathrow. As she sat by the window, waving goodbye to that white and polished manor she called home for so long, hoping that, somewhere in tree-lush New England, she'd have a home just like the one in England midlands.

- - - -

Needless to say, the home she thought that would be like her own, was not to be. Instead of a grand white home with a vast green garden, she got a stone walled home with a garden made of pebbles and marble.

Roxanne sighed, sitting on the edge of her bed and looking at the bare walls. She had unpacked most of her things on her own, at least then it would burden her assistances a little less once they’re done hauling the things into the living room. She was a bit too kind like that, but she was bored and devoid of anything to do, why not do something useful?

Oh well.

It had only been a few days in New England, and already, she wanted to go home. She lacked any friends or the confidence to demand a return trip ticket to technicolour London. Thoughts of home quickly invaded her mind, her school, the rain, the cold, the damp weather, the people, the gray skies, the rockers…

But her little train was derailed and burnt, when she heard three knocks on the door, “Miss?” A maid in a black uniform addressed, “There’s a Mr. Harrington for you downstairs in the lounge.”

At this, she gave a reluctant look; rolling her eyes and grudgingly getting up. Her parents had mentioned their friends would return from their summer holidays in the Mediterranean. Not that Roxy particularly cared about the Harringtons, they were nice, supposedly, ranking as one of the most powerful families in the New England area. Really, good for them, she’d say, but she could care less about them. While reading her father’s textbooks and journals, all that was fancy and dripping in gold mattered not to her. She wanted to be surgeon, she wanted to save lives. Yes, you might need a little bit of money to get into a good university, but the money would do no good if you honestly had no heart in saving another person’s life and making a difference for the better, even if it meant a band-aid on the knee or a little dab of lotion.

So in the time she spent away from the luxury shopping and yacht clubs, she had learned that her life of wealth and fortune was nothing but a boring routine, played out by overpriced mink coats and designer shoes that look like the ones you’d find at your regular department store.

She walked down the grand staircase of her home, stopping midway as she noticed a rather tall, toned and handsome young man smiling her way. Taking very, very cautious steps, she made her way down and stood before the boy she had come to known.

“Oh Roxanne how long has it been since I last saw you?” She felt two hands icily hold her arms, and she looked up and near shivered at the sight of Derby Harrington.

“He-Hello there.”

His eyes were no longer the gentle baby blues that matched hers, but rather, they’ve become that of an icy hue, with even a lingering stare enough to pierce through her very being. Even his hands felt cold… just… everything about this boy made her uneasy, especially in the way he looked at her. That smirk, that air of arrogance.

In her old school, which was brimming with wealthy and powerful children (one her classmates was a princess in some eastern European country), the students were nothing but proud, arrogant and ignorant pricks who could barely comprehend the meaning of kindness. But it was simply upbringing’s fault, and they did not have that cold, cruel air about them (even if most of them were mean).

So really, Derby scared her witless. He had been a subject of mumbled mockery in the privacy of her imagination the last time she saw him; he looked feminine and lanky, pale and delicate. In the present timeline, however, he was this tanned and built boy who towered over her. Then again, Roxy was a little below average in height.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Roxanne?” He purred, and the English girl immediately recoiled and broke away from his grasp, a little surprise at his tone. But she quickly found an excuse for it.

“My your hands are… cold, Derby. Have you been walking about in the autumn air without gloves?” She had to be polite, lest she upset both their parents, who were conveniently chatting away at the bar not too far off, swirling their drinks in their hands and laughing loudly and obnoxiously at anecdotes and memories.

Derby let his lips curl into that of a devious smile and put his hands in his pocket, “I can brave the cold, dear. Tell me, what do you think of Bullworth so far?”

“I…” She couldn’t say she outright hated it and wanted to go home, this cheap imitation of England was not up to her standards. She missed the narrow roads, the looming buildings made of stone and the monarchy. “I think it’s quite a charming place,” she feigned, “It reminds me of England, but with a bit of America to make that much more different.”

Really, it was an insult in her mind, but the way Derby seemed to beam with pride, proved to the girl that her one skill she despised was being put to good use— deception. Oh how she hated lying and cheating, but she mastered the skill of twisting words and faking tones.

“Isn’t it though? My family and friends have given so much to this… quaint little town, the spoils of our hard work and all, as they say,” he let out a haughty giggle, “So tell me, dear, what brought you all the way here? Got a little tired of the rain?” He joked lightly, but one that would’ve been best kept to himself, for Roxanne actually missed the frequent rain and general dreary image London had generously painted.

All the same though.

“Well, father had planned on starting up a hospital with Dr. Gibbs. They’ve already got a building and some staff at the ready, I suppose all that’s left is that posh opening ceremony he’s been planning with mother.”

“Splendid, always nice to see the more powerful and intelligent families leaving their mark on this town. It won’t be soon before we’ll be that of a prestigious community!” Another haughty chuckle.

‘No thank you, Derby. I already have Kensington and Uptown London for that. And trust me, I prefer sitting about in the Rainbow Room and figuring out where Freddie Mercury parked his tush.’ “Oh, of course Derby.”

“So have you heard about where you’ll be schooling?” The bleach-blonde boy said rather casually, inspecting his nails.

“Well, actually, mother already had plans on sending me to the private academy here.” ‘It’s not exactly The Thatcher Academy, but… oh well!’ “Do you know what it’s like there?”

“Well, actually, I attend Bullworth Academy myself. Isn’t that wonderful? We’ll be in the same school!” He said, putting a hand to her shoulder, Roxanne going tense in the process, certainly NOT enjoying this boy’s company.

“Brilliant.”

“Quite, so when are you starting, I’d love to introduce you to my friends! I’m sure they’d enjoy and appreciate your sort of wealth and power.”

The Smiths were, as most upper-class socialites knew, one of the more powerful families in England. Renowned for each and every member of the prestigious family succeeded in their line of work; her mother was a model-turned-fashion designer for Aquaberry, her father an equally well-known surgeon, having been featured on television and writing extraordinary medical journals. Because each family member was taught to succeed regardless of anything, they had conquered most industries; from music and entertainment, to computing and health, to science and politics.

They were omnipotent. They were known for being confident and outspoken.

Roxanne, while most agreed she had the kindness and good-natured soul to be a caring and successful surgeon, did not have the confidence or the outspokenness.

Hence, why she found herself highly regarded a bit of burden.

- - - -

It hadn’t taken very long, but a little over a week after settling into Bullworth, Roxanne grew tired; not only from having to put up with a new country, a new set of laws and restrictions and a different side of the road one drives on, but she slowly grew tired of the life of decadence. She was grateful that her parents worked hard and earned the money and fame, she was grateful they spent time with her, to at least say good morning to her (even if it was a cheesy voice message they’d leave in her mobile phone), she was grateful that they wanted to give her the best of everything.

It was just a shame that she quickly grew disillusioned of the glitz and glamour, and had instead, grown romantic and hopeful, wondering what it was like to struggle for that new pair of shoes that you had always wanted.

Money may not buy you happiness, but it can buy you a temporary high; most girls her age often boasted about how much they saved and for how long just for a simple prom dress, whereas she would ring up her mother and ask for a haute couture piece (that would cost in the thousands no doubt).

Everyone had been familiar with the tale ‘The Prince and The Pauper’, and Roxanne very much identified herself as the Prince, wanting to break free from all her ‘royal duties’ (obligations).

And it became the last straw when Derby had invited her to meet some of his friends, as a celebration and bringer of good-luck, he said, for she started school at Bullworth Academy first thing tomorrow morning.

She had met Tad and Bryce, both of whom took to her warmly and were quick to play nice and feign smiles. Pinky was a little less than impressed, stating that she had anticipated Roxy to be that of a voluptuous blonde, not some shapeless short thing. All the same though, the French cakes and Brazilian coffee tasted less sweet the more she thought on her dilemma; wanting to be ‘real’ she claimed.

“Derby,” she called out for the older boy, “May I have a word with you in private?” She felt her cheeks heat up, scolding herself for letting that happen. As handsome and attractive as Harrington was, he had such a personality that turned the girl completely off him. Oh, but could you deny that smirk?

All the same, the Harrington heir leered back and both of them had found their little adobe of sanctuary in the form of a gazebo. “You want to talk to me, dear?”

She was leaning against the wooden pillar, with Derby near-trapping her with an arm extended right above her shoulder, hand on his hips and a devilish glint of the eye, “What ever for, my dear, would you want to talk to me in private for. My friends are your friends, should they choose to disrespect a woman of your status, why, I’d personally—”

“I can’t be with you Derby,” Roxanne interrupted, looking away and shutting her eyes, almost bracing for the strike that would come.

“Can’t be with me?” He laughed this off, clearly not comprehending the girl’s words, “Oh but my dear, I’d never harm a lady. Certainly that’s only an act a brute would do, and my dear you should not forget, I’ve been raised a gentleman,” he left a lingering kiss on her hand, one she ignored without effort.

“No, Derby… It’s not that I can’t be with you… I don’t want to be with you.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“Perhaps you might find the life of luxury a blessing, Derby, but I honestly? I’ve grown rather sick of it.”

In what was supposed to be a heartfelt moment where little dear Roxanne poured her soul out to the venomous Harrington boy, he simply laughed the matter off, granting the girl no excuse and thinking it was nothing more but a silly little joke she so cleverly conceived. The English were known for their dry sarcasm and wit, who has to deny Roxanne might share that trait with her own people?

“Ha, ha… my dear, is that all? You slay me, dear, you just do! Why I must tell the others about—” And again, she interrupted him.

“No, Derby, listen.” In clear concise words, she explained, “Frankly, I’m tired of being a princess, tired of the pampering and sheltering, tired of all the expensive things and even more tired of the obligations.”

His jaw dropped.

“I suppose the yachts and girls in Ibiza must excite you and your friends, Derby, but it doesn’t do a thing for me, nothing at all!” she threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, “Why, what’s the point of giving me so many clothes if I hardly wear any of them, let alone give them a glance.”

“Have you gone MAD, Roxanne? Are you saying you’d rather not be a member of the elite?”

“I’m not saying that, but I would like it if I could make friends with the regular children.”

“You think they could appreciate a girl of your status and wealth? My dear they’d think you nothing but a stuck up no good call girl.”

“Then let them!” She stomped her foot in a way only a Prep would know how, “Let them think what they want of me, I believe that there are kinder hearted people out there who know better than to judge me.”

“You… you, my dear, had severely judged the teenaged populace of this fair town,” voice full of anger and frustration, “Have you been stranded for that long in Thatcher, dear? So long that you’ve forgotten how the real people function? Trashy that lot, they couldn’t appreciate you.”

“How do you know? Have you been acquainted with these people? After all, they work for your father and your father pays them. Certainly without such ‘meager’ little people, I doubt you’d be as successful as you are today.”

Clearly, she hit a sore spot, for she noticed a small twitch in Derby’s left eye.

“Girl, don’t you think that this is all a fairytale,” he warned, “They’ll toss you aside once you let slip your name and wealth.”

“I don’t have to tell them my wealth; in fact, I don’t think most people below our social circle know about my family.”

“See? That already shows how uneducated they are.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make friends with them.” She was about to stomp away, giving up on trying to knock the idea into Harrington’s head, but his killer cold hands grabbed at her arm and he turned her around, their noses merely inches apart and she could smell the expensive cologne he wore.

“Listen, girl, that’s not your place, they’re not your people.” He said through his teeth, painting a grim picture of what the English girl might face later on, should she decide to follow her childish pursuit, “Trash like them don’t deserve to be graced by your power and influence.”

“And it’s certainly not your place to tell me who I can befriend or not.” She tried to escape from his death-like grip, but her moment of bravado was slowly crumbling and she grew more distressed as he still kept on with his hold on her, and all the more when he whispered in her ear, every word laced with poison, “My dear, won’t you trust your old friend Derby? I know what’s good for you…” He smiled, but Roxanne didn’t acknowledge it.

“You’re a traitor if you want to be with those no good gutter scum children.” He stared at her straight in the eye, “Play with them, little Roxanne, but once they find out your ties with me, they’ll no sooner call you a traitor as well, and then who would you turn to?”

She didn’t answer, but tried her hardest to look away, even with Derby’s fingers on her chin, forcing her to stare back and give him a definite answer. She didn’t, though, but instead, let tears of defeat well up, hoping that he had a heart beating somewhere in that arrogant little being, and that he’d let her go and forget the conversation ever happened.

“That’s right, you’ll turn to me, won’t you? Just like all those other times.”

“Derby, no…”

“I’m your only friend Roxanne…” were the last, trailing whispers he left on the girl as she broke free from his grasp and bee-lined straight for her home, hoping to at least cry into her pillow and hope to catch a nap, for the memories that resurfaced between her and the devil Harrington were not ones that many would prefer to indulge in.

- - - -

When I was eight years old, Derby told me that he would play house with me. I was really happy, because usually he would tell me that he’d much rather play something else. All the same, I was glad that he agreed and I quickly told him I would assert the role of ‘mummy’, that my Barbie doll would be the daughter, Ken the son and Derby himself as ‘daddy’.

He agreed to this, but then told me who would play the ‘doggie’. Naturally, this called for some looking and eventually I produced one of my older dolls told him that she’d be the pet and all we had to do was take the strings off her dress and make it into a leash.

Derby told me that he liked the idea of the leash, but then told me that the doll was much prettier than me and that it would be better suited as the ‘mummy’. At that sort of age, I couldn’t help but agree, from my naïve observations, I had come to learn that both our mothers were beautiful women in their own right.

So I offered myself as the dog and tied my hair in pig tails as faux dog ears. Derby took much pleasure in this and was quick to tie the string around my neck and drag me about.

That wasn’t a very pleasant experience, for I choked, coughed and grabbed at my throat because he pulled me too hard. Our parents weren’t very pleased with his actions, but over the years as it became nothing but childhood memories, our parents found it nothing short of a boyish behaviour. After all, boys were a little more prone to violence, and perhaps didn’t give much care for being delicate.

Ever since then, he’s always had a leash on me, a death like grip and a stare like no other. My family was easily more powerful than his, and I knew he took great pleasure in the fact that I was a little too docile to do anything to stop him.

Because even though my family’s bank accounts were bigger than his altogether, he was still much bigger and much more powerful physically than I. Hence, the relentless bullying that I thought were just silly childish things. Slowly but surely, I had come to thinking that everyone with a slight touch of bravado and confidence was just like Derby Harrington, and I had slowly degraded myself into a reclusive bookworm, keen on saving other people, to save them from suffering and to perhaps, put a smile on their faces by the end of the day.

At age eleven, Derby told me that he was my one and only friend, before giving me a very chaste and polite kiss and left for America shortly after. It was then, he fully gained control over me, a control I wish to break, but have no means doing so.

I have yet to discover his motif… but until then, I am his and he is mine.

- - - -

There were times when riding in her sleek luxury car was a godsend, and these were one of those few instances. Roxanne had politely declined a ride from Derby, he had offered she ride with him to school where he could summarize the school to the girl. All the same, she said she’d much rather do one thing at a time, and perhaps use her new bicycle to travel to school once she settled in.

‘Nonsense!’ he cried, but Roxanne quipped, saying that the school was much nearer than her old one, and that riding a bicycle would perhaps get her better acquainted with the new environment. Her parents, of course, agreed wholeheartedly to the idea, with the English girl smiling victoriously at Derby’s disappointed look in his eyes.

‘You won’t get me this time, Derby.’

Bullworth Academy, was no Thatcher Academy, for when she stepped out onto the school grounds, she was stared down to death by the seniors and established students, though they lessened their degree somewhat, when Derby slinked and arm across her shoulder, smiling, “Glad to see you made it.”

It was a lovely autumn day though, she noted, mentally blocking out Derby’s prattling, admiring the pretty browns and reds of the trees and falling leaves. It was also a bit chilly, hence the leather jacket and cap, which mixed oh so horrifyingly with her Aquaberry vest and cutesy Mary Jane shoes.

Needless to say, the bell had rung and had to make her way to class.

“What’s your first one today, dear?”

“Chemistry,” she stated, “Walk me there.”

“Certainly.”

- - - -

“Class, I’d like you to meet our newest student, Roxanne Smith. She’s impressed me with her grades, and I hope you’ll do just as well as her on the upcoming tests.” The aged teacher looked towards the girl, “Won’t you tell a little bit about yourself, Miss?”

“Umm…” she mumbled, looking over at the class filled with seniors giving her awkward and half-interested stares. Well… one of them was a bespectacled brunet boy in a navy blazer. He looked familiar, though. All the same, she continued on, “I’m… sixteen, and very pleased to meet you all… you ah, can call me Roxy if… If you want to, that is.”

Dr. Watts rubbed his forehead, embarrassed on her behalf towards her socially inept mumbles. She took a seat soon enough, next to the boy in the blazer and spectacles named Edward.

Huh.

- - - -

Classes like chemistry, were certainly easier subjects compared to say, Art or Music. Roxanne didn’t like boasting about it, but she took pride that most of her classes were advanced and mingled with senior students.

So she had a fairly good feeling that she’d do well in Dr. Watts’ coming classes and tests. However, she wasn’t being all too careful, for not only a few inches away from her locker, she stumbled upon her own feet and came crashing down, books and notes fluttering about.

She frantically picked up her books and notes, cheeks feeling red and hot when she heard stifled mumbles from other students, amused at her expense. It was until she saw a pair of large boots against the polished floor and looked up to see a very handsome, Italian boy looking down at her.

“Need help?” His voice was slightly high pitched, but he looked intimidating enough to ward off bothersome taunts. He had slicked back brown hair with some strands on the left, even under the bulky brown leather jacket he wore, he looked well-toned and muscled. But despite the tough looking exterior, she couldn’t help but be drawn to his kind brown eyes.

“Uhmm…”

He didn’t need an answer and instead, picked up some of the paper that were littered about, handing them in a very unorganized stack, “Ya gotta be more careful next time,” he advised, helping her onto her feet. “Ya new ‘round here?”

“Um… y-yes… thank you.”

The greaser-boy looked about, smoothening out his hair and extending a hand to shake (at which, Roxanne flashed a look of disgust before hiding it away), “Name’s Peanut. Peanut Romano. You?”

“R-Roxy… you can call me Roxy.”

“Nice. Haven’t seen ya ‘round though. You takin’ English first subject?”

“No… I… I take Advanced Chemistry.”

The boy, Peanut, whistled, clearly he was impressed, “You’s pretty smart for a kid,” he looked down to her, bemused, “Ne’er heard a kid go so far.”

“Actually, I’m sixteen.”

Peanut stared at the girl in amazement, she was… older than him by a year, and yet she looked like a twelve year old. He bit his tongue and didn’t comment any further on the subject. “See ya, ‘round, girlie.” He said, promptly leaving when he saw Johnny Vincent in the distance, but not before he paid her one compliment, “Nice jacket.”

She almost fainted.

‘Isn’t he the regular Mr. Universe?’

So readers! What do you think? Good? Bad? Is Roxy a Mary-Sue to be burned on the stake? Or is she a tolerable character with an interesting story to tell?