Boarding school

"Tell me honestly, Elizabeth—do they actually *care* about the War of 1812, or are they just humoring you?" John Lee leaned against the sunlit window frame of his office, grinning as he watched the history teacher adjust her glasses.

Elizabeth White tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and laughed, the sound bright against the quiet hum of the school beyond the door. "Oh, they care. Or at least, they care about the part where I told them James Madison was five feet four and had a pet parrot that swore at diplomats." She shrugged, her blouse shifting with the movement. "You’d be surprised what sticks when you wrap history in gossip."

Outside, the sprawling grounds of Laurelwood Academy stretched under the late September sun—rolling hills dotted with oak trees, the stone-walled dorms sparkling like something out of a postcard. It had been John’s idea to buy the old equestrian estate two years ago, back when the concept of an elite prep school for girls lingering between high school and college felt like a gamble - exclusively for girls eighteen to twenty, looking for some extra time to get into the right elite college, or find their desired calling. Now, with a waiting list and a faculty that actually returned his emails, he allowed himself the occasional moment of pride.

The girls helped, of course. Not that he’d ever say it out loud, but Laurelwood’s student body had a way of turning heads—confident, sharp-eyed young women who carried themselves like they owned the future. They breezed through the halls in packs, debating poli-sci over lunch or sprawled on the library couches with textbooks balanced on their knees. Some days, John half-expected a magazine scout to materialize on the front lawn, begging to photograph the whole scene.