“What kind of example are you setting me, Mum, dreaming up excuses and weaseling out of invitations like that?”
“A very good one, of course. It’s your life, and you can say no to whatever you like. Besides, extreme reluctance is a perfectly valid excuse.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Except in the case of homework, but you know that. Speaking of which, you’ll have a study hour at Dunbridge. Every afternoon at four, an hour with no distractions, just you and your books. Ms.Barnett knows no mercy, but she also knows every trick in the book for getting ink out of your uniform.”
Uniform...I really need to ask Ms.Barnett about that.
“And you’re sure that you really want to go through with this?” Mum asks when I go too long without speaking.
“What?” I ask hastily. “The year abroad? Yes, of course I’m sure.”
And even if I weren’t, it’s a bit late to change my mind now.
“All right,” Mum says, and I shut my eyes. “It’s just... Emmi, you know you don’t have to do this. Not for my sake.”
“I know, Mum.”
“Did I pressure you, talking about it all the time? I think going abroad while you’re at school is an amazing opportunity, but you don’t have to if—”
“Mum,” I say, and she falls silent. “You didn’t pressure me.”
“Are you absolutely sure of that?”
“Absolutely sure,” I say, and deep down, I know she’s still trying to find an explanation for my sudden change of mind. Of course she is, because for as long as I can remember, she’s been suggesting that I spend some of my school career at Dunbridge Academy. Not because she doesn’t have time for me and wants to ship me off to Scotland, but because she’s a top lawyer who studied at St. Andrews, and it’s her goal to make all that possible for me too. The best education, the best foundation for the best future.
But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be the kind of businesswoman who spends more time on planes and high-speed trains than in her own home. Because that’s all she has left. Because it stops people from asking questions.
She’s divorced, and she threw herself into her career to compensate for that. I don’t actually think that, though... or maybe I do a bit. All I know is that I don’t want to be at a posh British school just so I can put it on my CV. That’s not what this is about. This is about getting answers to questions I can’t ask anybody else, for which I have to go to this school, the one where myparents met all those years ago. It sounds like a fairy tale: the German girl and the Glasgow boy, meeting at an elite school in Scotland. But there are no fairy tales in real life. There’s just Mum, who puts her work above everything else, and Dad, whose laugh I can’t even remember.
But I can’t tell Mum that. She’d freak out if she knew that every time I listen to Jacob Wiley’s “For Emma” tape, I wonder if his fingertips are still rough from playing the guitar. I think that happens if a person lets you down often enough: You want to protect your child from being let down too. But I’m not a child anymore. I’m almost an adult, and yeah, maybe my dad won’t want anything to do with me. Maybe it’ll hurt as much as it did back then, when he’d send me a present and a card on my birthday and Christmas and promise to visit soon. I canceled riding holidays with friends so that I could go to the seaside with him, and then he forgot. He just forgot.
So what’s the worst that can happen? Nothing can shock me now. I want him to look at me and explain why he did it. I want answers to my questions. And until then, I’m praying he can give me some.
5
Emma
“...Smoking, alcohol, and drugs are strictly forbidden anywhere within the school grounds. And no boys in girls’ rooms after ten o’clock, at which time you must be back in your own wing,” says Ms.Barnett. “And vice versa, of course. Break these rules once, and you’ll get a warning. A second time in a term, and you’re facing expulsion. Do you have any questions, Emma?”
I shake my head. I should’ve brought something to write with to note everything down.
“I’m sure it’ll all be a bit confusing at first, but you’ll soon find your feet, don’t worry. And I’m always here if you need me for anything.”
“Thank you,” I say. “My mum said to give you her love. I just spoke to her.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I hope she and Jacob are well,” replies Ms.Barnett.
Ask her. Ask her anything. This is your chance.I’m just opening my mouth when we hear suitcases being wheeled down the corridor. Ms.Barnett immediately turns to the door.
“Well, it sounds like the next batch is arriving.” She smiles. “You’ll soon get to know everyone, Emma.”
As I leave Ms.Barnett’s office, I spot three more girls my age. She’s handing out keys and looks busy, so I head back to my room.
My suitcases are half unpacked, and the mess is making me edgy. Although maybe some of that is the realization that I don’t even know how I’m going to get the information I need about my father. I ought to come up with some questions so that I can get right in there the next time I have a chance.
I’ve only had a minute or two crouching on the floor amid all the chaos, sorting my underwear, when there’s a single short, hard knock and the door flies open.
