“Yep.” His eyes bore right through me, and I long to run away. “I’m seriously assuming that that was a misunderstanding on his part.” He sounds kind of threatening. I step back a bit, but he’s pinning me down with his stupid arm. “You’re not getting onto my team just because your surname’s Bennington,” he adds.
“I thought Mr.Cormack pickedyourteam,” I reply. “Anyway, it was his idea.” Apparently, the PE teacher was impressed by my sprinting last summer, just before the holidays, and thinks I might take after my brother. He’d also suggested that playing for the school would help my university applications, but there’s no need to tell Valentine that part. Anyway, I’m still not sure if I should turn up to the open training session at the end of the week. Just because Theo was rugby captain and the team won just about everything in his day, doesn’t mean I give a crap about rugby. Sport is not my strong point, to put it mildly.
“Don’t make a tit of yourself.” Valentine narrows his eyes toslits. “Fine. Come to training if you like. Maybe then you’ll figure out that you have to get your hands dirty to achieve anything with us.”
“Is that right?”
“You bet it is.”
“Pity your uncle doesn’t pick the team,” I say as I turn away.
Valentine pins me to the wall by the shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”
“What d’you think I mean by it?” I just can’t help myself. Valentine Ward makes it way too easy to wind him up. And I’ve had it up to here with him acting like he owns the school just because he likes fighting other guys for some stupid ball in the mud and gets special treatment. “That I might get a genuine chance that way?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Bennington,” he hisses. “And watch what you say if you don’t want my uncle to hear about it. I hear you’ve got him for English and maths this year. You need good predicted grades, don’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ward,” I mutter, finally tearing myself away.
My pulse calms as I walk down the hall. Of course my first lesson this year has to be English with Mr.Ward. Because, sadly, Valentine was right. I’ve got his uncle for two subjects, and it’s no secret that he hates me. Mind you, Mr.Ward hates everyone. Probably including himself—at least, that’s the only explanation I can come up with for why he’s always so mean. All the teachers at Dunbridge are strict, but Mr.Ward’s in a league of his own. He’s the only teacher who always calls every single pupil by their surname. Not even Mrs.Sinclair does that, but fine, whatever...Unfortunately, he’s also my form tutor, when I’d have preferred Mr.Ringling. Great.
“Hey.”
I raise my head. Emma’s facing me, smiling a little uncertainly. I don’t know why, but seeing her, all my irritation dissolves into thin air. Why do I feel so proud at the sight of her in our school uniform?
“Morning,” I say. “Sleep well?”
She nods. “Yes, thanks. How about you?”
“Not enough, but yeah, OK.”
“Still the jetlag that isn’t jetlag?”
I have to smile. “Probably.” Her pale-blond hair is tied back, and only a few strands fall into her face. Everything about her is so light and soft and gentle. How can you not want to look at her the whole time? “Are you looking for your classroom?” I ask hastily. “I’ll show you the way.”
“Oh, you don’t have to...” She stops when the bell goes for the first lesson.
“What have you got?”
“English with Mr.Ward,” she says. I’m pleased for myself but sad for her. It doesn’t strike me as an ideal start to get a teacher like Mr.Ward when you’re new at a school. But on the other hand, that means we’ll be in the same class for six hours a week. And maybe a few others, if I’m in luck. Or out of luck, depending on how you look at it.
“Do you know where that is?” Emma asks.
“Yes, I’m going that way myself,” I say. She smiles, which makes me happier than it should. “We have to hurry.”
Emma walks rapidly down the now-empty corridor beside me. Fortunately, our classroom door is still open. I can hear Tori’s laugh from out here.
“Emma!” She’s right by the door with Inés and Gideon and whirls around toward us. “I lost sight of you after assembly, sorry! Did you find your way OK?” Then she spots me. “Oh, you had a guide. That’s good.”
“Hi, Tor,” I mumble, glancing past her into the room. Most desks are already taken, but there are two seats together at the back of the classroom, and I turn to Emma. But before I can say anything, Tori’s grabbed her arm.
“No danger, Henry. Emma’s sitting with me. It’s bad enough that Olive’s got Ms.Ventura.”
Amazement flickers across Emma’s face as she looks from Tori to me. I smile and shrug regretfully.
“Who am I to contradict Victoria Belhaven-Wynford?”
“Very true.” Tori’s smile is sickly sweet as she and Emma walk further into the classroom.
