Yeah. It's not like you have a choice.

You step out of the car in an area between rolling hills and woods. It looks like a big castle, with lots of brick and stone and stuff. Basically it's way older than anything in America. Probably typical in England, though. The campus is large enough that you'll probably be able to find somewhere quiet.

A few years ago you went on a trip to Europe and visited London, but it's mostly a blur and you're not anywhere near London. The school is out in the countryside in a county called Oxfordshire, but not really near Oxford, either. There's no towns nearby, and basically nothing to do at all.

"See you on Thanksgiving break," said your mom. You didn't realize it was going to be that long. "Goodbye."

"Bye," you say curtly, trying to sound cold.

The car disappears into the distance and you're left in this unfamiliar place alone. You walk forward towards the courtyard, where there's a couple of people. One of them is walking right towards you.

"Hello, are you Allison?" asks a woman with brown hair who looks to be in her 40s.

"Yes," you say.

"I'm the principal, Miss Witney," she says, shaking your hand. "Welcome to Watbridge Mont. Follow me for a tour."

She leads you over to the main building, passing a couple of girls all wearing the same uniforms. None of them pay much attention to you.

"You are from California, correct?"

"Yes," you say.

"I'm from Birmingham, that's England's second largest city," she says, leading you into the building and down a corridor. "You must've done a lot of hard work to get in here. We are one of the most elite schools in the country, so I would like to make clear, just in case you forget, that our standards are very high and you will be expected to work hard. That doesn't mean you will never have fun."

"Okay," you say, walking up to the third floor. Nobody told you this school was super elite.

"Here we are," she says, opening a door.

You follow her into a long and skinny room lined with beds. There is a low ceiling, dark wood floors, and windows only at the far end. You count six beds on each side.

"Your bed is number 6, and this is room 302."

"Okay, how many people sleep in here?"

"Twelve," she says. "But anyway, there are a few rules I have to go over with you. First of all, cell phones are banned but there's no service anyway so it's kind of pointless to try and use one. Second, being late or skipping classes will always end with punishment, except during your very first week of school. The curfew is 10:00 on weekdays 11:00 on Friday and Saturday and everyone must be in their room or common room, the common room is attached at the end by the windows. Wandering around campus is allowed during daylight areas, but you must remain in the central part of campus. To go to the outskirts you must be with a prefect. Buses go to local stores on weekends. The other students will show you to your dining hall and classes, which are listed on this schedule. The four days rotate regardless of the day of the week, on Fridays classes are shorter and you get out earlier."

"Now, if you excuse me I have a meeting to attend. Have a good day."

She shakes your hand again and walks off.

You sit down on your bed, wondering where everyone else is for a few minutes until they all come in. They're all dressed like this (with a medium length skirt, you can't see it in the picture):

A girl with red hair comes up to you.

"What's your name? Why aren't you wearing a uniform?"

"Allison, I just got here."

"Woah," she says. "Are you American?"

"Los Angeles," you say.

She smiles, which is strangely creepy.

"I'll got get Megan, she handles the new students," she says. "I'm Poppy by the way."

She runs out of the room and comes back two minutes later with a blonde woman who is probably in her late 20s.

"I'm Megan. Please follow me, I'll get you your uniform," says Megan.

You follow her out of the room and down the hall a short bit.

"We get more Americans than you think, you'll find them," she says. "Now, here we are."

She leads you into a large bathroom with lots of stalls with wooden doors, and showers that are basically in the open. There are robes hanging up by the wall.

"Take a shower. I'll come back in fifteen minutes to give you your uniform."

You feel uncomfortable taking a shower where anyone could see you, but there's nobody else in the bathroom so you decide it's fine. Nobody comes in while you're showering and after you dry off you put on a robe. Then Megan comes in a few minutes later and hands you a uniform that looks like this.

"You've got to be joking," you say.

She says nothing, standing there with a serious face.

"Put it on," she says.

"But—" you say.

"Keep your mouth shut until you're wearing the uniform," she says, turning away from you.

You sigh and put on the uniform, including some black stockings. The skirt is so short that your panties are visible.

"Megan, this is too short," you say. "Why is my uniform different from everyone else's?"

She turns to face you again.

"All the foreign students wear uniforms like yours," she says.

You stop for a second. That's xenophobia at a new level.

"Are you kidding me?" you ask.

"Foreign students aren't technically allowed here, but we let them in provided they accept different conditions."

"What conditions?"

"The ones you signed before coming here."

"What are you talking about?"

"You signed a contract a few days ago in order to come here. Your parent signed it too," she says. "It makes everything we do here legal."

"What?"

"Well, you see, students are so to stay and receive a degree from such a prestigious institution that they'll do crazy things if we ask them to. Yourself included. I'll let your roommates help explain it."

You start to walk back to your room when you realize she has all your old clothes, including your phone which was in your pocket.

"Excuse me, I left something in my pocket," you say.

"Phones are banned," she says. "I'll turn that into the main office. Here are your shoes."

She hands you a pair of black heels, which are at least three inches high.

"You can't expect me to wear this all the time," you say.

"That's the rule, stop complaining," she says.

You follow her back to your room, wobbling on heels that are taller than anything you've worn.

"Okay, tell her how it is," says Megan.