“2150,” says Mr.Ward. I shiver. “Round the corner.”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.”
Did he see me? Shit, am I really that stupid?
My heart is thumping so loudly that I feel sure he must be able to hear it.
He eyes me sharply, then walks past me and reaches for the handle. His head twitches toward me as the door opens.
“Were you inside?”
“No,” I gasp.Breathe. Shit.“Why?”
Mr.Ward glares at me, pulls out a monstrous keyring and locks the door. He gives it a rattle to check, then turns and starts walking away.
“Are you planning to take root here?” he asks, when I don’t move. “I haven’t got all day.”
Henry
I’ve never been so exhausted, but all the same I feel like the visit to St. Andrews changed something. It’s almost like the time after my run with Emma a few days ago. Things haven’t got better, just different. I’m still embarrassed whenever I remember the way I lost control in the woods, even if I know there’s no need to be. I’ve never felt as powerless as I did in those minutes when I sat on the ground, unable to breathe. And even if I could wish she hadn’t seen me like that, I’m glad Emma was there. I don’t know how long she sat beside me in the rain, just holding me. I only remember her voice once I’d cried myself empty. She didn’t tell me to get up and pull myself together. She didn’t say any of the things I’d been afraid of.
You can always tell me about her if you want. But if you don’t wantto, and you just need to cry, then I’ll sit here with you, all right? You are allowed to feel this way. You don’t have to get over it.
I hadn’t known how much I needed to hear that.
I wonder where she is as I walk back to school after rugby. It went OK today. Maybe even OK-verging-on-good. For a while, I was able to forget how sad I am. Mr.Cormack announced the final squad for our game on Friday. I’m not going to start, much to Valentine Ward’s joy, but I’ll be on the bench, and I think Mr.Cormack will give me a chance and bring me on as a sub. I really hope so, because it’s one of the biggest matches of the season. We’re playing Alkmounton College, who are kind of local rivals, an hour or so down the road. They’re good, but we’ve generally thrashed them. We’ll see.
I say goodbye to Omar and Gideon, who are heading down to Ebrington before dinner to get some stuff from Irvine’s, and pop up to my room. The corridor is empty, most people aren’t back yet, but I pause as I spot Emma sitting outside my door. She’s leaning her back against the wall, has her arms wrapped around her legs, and is staring so absently at the wooden floorboards that she doesn’t even notice me.
“Emma?”
She raises her eyes and jumps up. “We have to talk.”
“Is everything OK?”
“No.” Her voice sounds muffled, and she glances uncertainly over my shoulder. Then she looks at me again. “It’s important, Henry.”
“Fine.” I reach for my key.
“I’ve fucked up,” she says, almost as soon as we’re in my room.
I remember that she just had that appointment with Mr.Ward. Was he mean to her again? “What’s happened?” I ask. She steps past me. I follow her. “Emma.”
“I wasn’t going to. Shit, it was just for a second and... I’m totally screwed.”
“Emma,” I repeat, but more firmly this time. She stops. When she slowly turns to me, there’s panic flickering in her pale eyes. “Talk to me.”
In slow motion, she reaches for her phone. I can’t take my eyes off her face even as my own mobile buzzes in my trouser pocket. I pull it out and see that she’s sent me some photos.
Four photographs of pages of text. I bring my phone closer to my face, and then I understand.
“What the—”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Where did you get these?” I blurt.
Emma’s gone as white as chalk. “I went to Mr.Ward’s office to look for him. I thought... I must have been in the wrong room. There was nobody there.”
