Henry nods. “I couldn’t choose between humanities and science, and I’ve got another year before I have to drop a couple.”
“He still can’t admit to himself that he wants to be a doctor,”says Sinclair. “Like his parents. His brother and sister are studying medicine too.”
“Bollocks. I’m going to be a teacher,” Henry retorts promptly.
“Really?” I blurt.
Henry nods. “Ideally, I’d like to come back and teach here one day.”
“You could come back as a doctor too,” says Olive shortly.
“Her dad’s the school doctor,” Tori explains. “He’s a GP in Edinburgh and looks after the sick bay here on the side.”
“But you still board here?” I ask Olive.
She glances briefly at me. “Obviously. Why else would you have knocked for me just now?”
“I know.” I swallow. “I just meant...”
“Quite a few people have family in Edinburgh,” Henry explains hurriedly, “so they could get the bus here every day, but most of them find it more convenient to board and go home at weekends.”
“Oh, right.” Olive’s looking back at her phone, so I don’t say anything more.
“Anyway, I don’t want to be a doctor,” Henry explains. “I see from my parents what a stressful job it is.”
“My dad’s seriously chill.” Olive shrugs, not looking up.
“Just wait for the rugby season to start—that’ll keep him busy.” Omar’s laughing, but Henry looks kind of tense now.
Once the upper sixth have come back to their seats with full plates, it’s our turn. I can feel the younger kids watching me as we walk up to the hatch. Henry’s constantly saying hi to someone or waving to people, and it feels weird to walk back with him, Tori, Sinclair, and Olive.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was still in Frankfurt and everything was normal. I was Emma with the British name, Emma with no dad. Emma, Noah’s ex.
I’m still Emma, but it’s totally up to me who I’ll be here. And there’s something I really like about that.
7
Henry
After such a long journey, I could have slept for twelve hours straight, but nobody goes to bed early on the first night of term. After wing time, Omar, Gideon, and I sneaked into Sinclair’s room so we could talk the night away, like we used to in the old days. After the eight-week summer holidays, we had a lot to catch up on, but I seriously regretted it when my alarm went off at six this morning. I could hardly keep my eyes open during assembly. Not that there was any important news just yet. There are no new teachers at Dunbridge this year, so Mrs.Sinclair stuck to a few motivational words for the start of the academic year, plus a reminder of the morning run that replaces the assembly from Tuesday to Friday. Not even a decent cup of tea at breakfast helped me wake up properly. I feel like there’s no way I can get through a whole morning’s lessons.
I’m just on my way to English when I hear my name.
“Bennington!” Oh, no! “How was Namibia?”
“Kenya,” I say, trying not to buckle at the knees as Valentine Ward, from the upper sixth, slaps me on the back. For a rugbycaptain he’s surprisingly slim and athletic—typical winger!—yet the blow is borderline brutal.
“Are you sure? I could have sworn it was there.”
“Oh! You’re thinking of Nairobi,” I say. “The capital of Kenya.”
“Oh, yeah. Don’t tell Ms.Kelleher.”
“No worries.” Even if I did, his uncle would look after him. Or that’s what people say.
“Anyway, the point was,” Valentine begins, shoving me aside slightly, “that Mr.Cormack says we might be getting a new winger soon.”
I freeze under his arm. “Does he?”
