A/N :
Hope you like this, will get more interesting. This was just to tell you roughly about the her (Amelia) background.
Also I'm changing it slightly so that the heist happened at the beginning of the year, so that Kelly is still head girl when my character gets there.
Happy reading :)
Sadly I don't own anything from St Trinians, apart from my character.

I sat once again on the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of Margaret's desk, I had become used to the scene and situation having done this several times before and was now becoming nine times. I remember one time they sent me to an orphanage in France. That only lasted two weeks , not the shortest time I've stayed somewhere but definitely not the longest. I had been sent to France when I was eight, I had been kicked out of so many different orphanages, not a single care home in the surrounding area was willing to take me in. So the local authorities decided to ask a French orphanage to have me for a while. Apparently they did it so that I could 'get things straight with myself', a load of trash if you ask me. I think that they just couldn't handle me.

Eight year old Amelia sat scowling at the desk of Francis Bugette, the owner of the orphanage 'Safe and Sound'. Amelia snickered at the name once again like she had done when she first arrived at the orphanage only two weeks before. It was her new record time for the shortest amount of time spent living in one place. She smiled proudly to herself. Her thoughts then turned back to the reason she was sat in this office in the first place. She didn't see how it was so bad but apparently it was bad enough for Mr Bugette to call the authorities back in England to say that he wanted to send me back. Amelia sighed to herself at the thought of once again being carted back off to some other place. She didn't realise at this young age, although she already hated it, that she would be what would seem endlessly moved from place to place until the authorities would decide otherwise.

(present time)
A smile couldn't help but form on my face as I thought of what I had done back then. After the first week of being there I had gotten bored and decided it would be nice to spice things up a bit. I decided that it would be nice to practise one of the more classic pranks, I had mixed Mr Bugette's shampoo with hair removal cream. I remembered emptying half the bottle down the sink and the filling it back up to the top with the removal cream. There were no noticeable affects until about a week later and when he discovered what had happened, he called the authorities to come and get me to take me back.

I was still sat there smiling to myself when Ms Black, another councillor the authorities had yet again sent to see me, entered the room. She saw me smiling and immediately scolded me telling me to wipe the apparently 'ridiculous smile' from my face. Instead of removing it, I just toned it down a little. Trying not to make it too obvious.
"Now I'm sure that you understand the reason you are here?" she asked me strictly.

"Yes, because the Sharp couple couldn't take a joke. They need to lighten up a bit." I replied

" Very funny." She replied in a monotone, restraining an eye roll. " I have convinced the local authorities that maybe it's time for a change."

"What?" I replied confused and just slightly scared at what she meant by 'change'. "What do you mean by 'change'?" the question escaped my lips, betraying what was supposed to be my 'didn't care' attitude towards these people.
She smirked at my sudden show of interest in the matter.

"Well you may not be aware, but that the authorities have been in argument about the custody of you with a lady called Camille Fritton. You were four years old when she found you and started harassing the authorities to let her look after you."
I stayed silent at this new information, not really knowing what to say. My curiosity however was sparked, we shared the same last name, wanting to know more I let my guard down. Not much just enough for her to know I was listening and wanted to know a bit more

"You're probably wondering why she has the same last name, right?"
I nodded to let her know that was the exact question on my mind.

"Well...How to put this.." her hesitation frustrated me, she noticed and finally decided to just say it. "She is your aunt"
My guard was left wide open, shock taking over. I had an aunt, an actual real live aunt. Someone who had been arguing with the authorities to take me in and look after me. Why hadn't they let her? Oh god, she better not be one of those crazy relatives, who were mentally unstable. My mind turned to last person who had looked after me. A kindly older lady in her 50's, who after having taken me in for half a year, had an undetectable stroke of some kind and went completely do lally.

"Why have I never been, at least informed about her? And why have they been arguing for so long?" I asked becoming annoyed that they had held information from me. I hated not knowing and I especially hated it when I was the last one to know.

"Well the authorities didn't bother to tell you because they thought that you wouldn't be interested." Her voice grew smaller as she saw that my anger was becoming even more fuelled. Never the less she continued on nervously.

"They also...They also didn't think, even believe, that anybody from your family that is, would come looking for you. They weren't even sure if your family knew of your existence."

"Well that's just lovely, bloody brilliant!" my voice raised ever so slightly to a small shout, failing myself to keep a calm mood on show.

Ms Black cleared her throat to gain my attention again. I had been staring at the floor biting my tongue to keep in the curses. She fixed me with a less serious expression, smiling at me confidently. Now my eyebrows were furrowed out of confusion.

"What?" I said, more bitter that I intended. She shook it off and continued to smile. I looked at her incredulously.

"I had a talk with the authorities and convinced them of something." She said plainly smirking at my face, which must have looked both confused and curious at the same time.

"Your aunt has been allowed custody of you," She continued "but is only allowed for as long as you want to stay with her. The choice is yours'."

She laughed at my face as a smile, one of my biggest, spread across my face. I was getting a chance to live with someone who had wanted me from the start. Someone who because was family probably wouldn't just chuck me back in an orphanage for bad behaviour. I had a chance to get away from all the stupid weirdos', who like Ms Black thought they knew me in an instant and could fix all my 'behaviour problems' like that. Besides they weren't behaviour problems, it was a pranking addiction that sometimes just got really serious.

"Well you can tell the authorities that I'm already packing my bags." I told Ms Black, as I rose from my seat and moved towards the door. Ms Black stopped me as I reached fro the handle.

" Oh! Mrs Mason told me to tell you that God has blessed you once again and has given you a new start."

I laughed and shook my head as I moved again, this time leaving the room. Mrs Mason, the owner of the orphanage that I was currently staying at, was religious and would always say that things were because of God. The last time I was fostered she had said the same thing to me. I returned from the foster parents home four days later and told her "Apparently God likes to pick foster parents for me that don't have a sense of humour.". Then again it really did feel as if this time God had decided to be nice to me for once. I smiled to myself as I climbed the stairs two at a time, desperate to pack and get away as soon as possible.

I remembered when I was little I used to ask why I had been left in these places. It was my test question I knew how I ended up in the care system, my dad when I was a baby was left me at an orphanage when my mum walked out on him. Apparently he was very panicked when he left me. I don't know why my mum left him though, that I'm sure I'll never know. Anyway, the test question had a simple purpose it was for me to figure out whether I had a nice person who was now looking after me. If I received a response something like 'because nobody wants you' I would class them as people to avoid, but if they responded something like 'just bad luck I guess' they were nice people. I used this question on every single orphanage owner I had come across, well only the ones whose I was staying in.

My smile widened as I remembered also that I probably wouldn't have to ever ask that question again. Well maybe once more to my aunt to see what her response is, but hopefully she is nice. My stomach churned slightly at the thought she might not be. I recognised the feeling as nerves, it was strange I never get nervous at the thought of once again going to a foster home. I did when was little but I haven't felt this nervous since I was nine and going to France. It wasn't as if I was leaving the country. Then again I suppose it was because this was going to be different, it was a family member. Someone that actually I might not get along with at all.