Bell was not one of the girls excitedly discussing the prospect of a substitute. She figured that if the school trusted this girl, this student enough to teach a class then she was probably one of the campus's Head Girls, or at the very least someone with the same type and amount of authority. She had heard stories of how cruel some of the Head girls could be in levying out their punishments. There were stories of three-day long detentions, bound and broken, exhausted from spending days on end doing nothing but satiating the lusts of whatever manner of beast wandered by, kept in the bowels of the school's basement to the point of almost complete submission. If her last encounter in the basement had taught her anything, it was that she had absolutely no urge to return. Ever. As far as she was concerned, the should flood the whole place with cement, let it harden then brick up the entrance and forget it ever existed. Needless to say, she had a vested interest in staying on this girl's, whoever she may be, good side.

When she entered, Bell was concentrated on her reading, her eyes bowed, one hand desperately trying to tug her too-short skirt's hem taut to preserve some modest level of her dignity. She was certain that the girls in front of her need only look back to get a full view of her legs all the way to her backside, her thighs crossed demurely before her beneath the desk. She folded her hands over her book, looking around nervous as the girl entered. Her eyes locked on that cashmere suit, her pen in hand, poised over her notebook. When the girl near the front was escorted out without another word she gulped, bowing her head back to her text, preparing herself to listen, write, and keep herself as far away from trouble as she possibly could.