I nod. And at that moment, I know I’d do anything to help her.
13
Emma
It’s amazing how quickly a new routine becomes a habit. I’ve been at this school less than three weeks, but I don’t have to keep checking my schedule now. I just know when I’ve got English or maths. The anxious tummyache I get before every lesson with Mr.Ward is a reliable reminder of that. I’m doing fine in maths and can keep up well, but in English, he’s still making me feel I’m behind. I don’t even want to think about when he might hand back our papers from that unannounced test on our current reading—the one where I was basically guessing. I don’t have any problems with PE either, but that’s not much consolation. And this isn’t even the only thing that’s messing with my head. I’m always feeling Grace’s eyes on me in the hallways. Sometimes I almost wish she’d just be mean to me. Then at least I’d know where I stood. But she’s friendly and kind, which makes everything so much harder. On Monday, I actually went to athletics training with her, but it made me feel bad. Because it was only a few days after I’d been in that darkened library with Henry, and ever since, I’ve constantly been fantasizing about what it would be like to kiss him.
You’d think I wouldn’t have much time for that kind of thing. My days are planned and run like clockwork. Each starts with registration at eight thirty, and then there are lessons until lunch, from one to two. After that, I have more classes, training, or enrichment. I also had to choose a duty, like helping the younger kids with their prep or working in the sick bay, the library, or the garden. I picked gardening. So one afternoon a week, I’m part of a group helping Mr.Carpenter and Mr.Ringling in the school’s huge grounds.
I have to admit that I’m not sorry Olive does lifeguard duty at the school pool. This way, I’m on my own with Tori while we help Mr.Carpenter outside. By now, I’m pretty sure that she only picked this option because Valentine Ward does garden duty too. It’s none of my business, but I have to confess that I don’t like him much—which has less to do with him being Mr.Ward’s nephew and more to do with him generally ghosting Tori. I like her a lot, but we’ve known each other such a short time that I don’t feel like I’m in a position to tell her she deserves better than someone who plays with her emotions. It seems to me she’s a lot happier in Sinclair’s company, even though she doesn’t seem to notice it. But sadly, he doesn’t do gardening with us—he does stable duty and helps out with the riding lessons. And Henry does prep supervision, which makes sense given his career ambitions.
I’m pretty sure this community service thing would never have worked at my old school. Nobody wanted to spend any more time at Heinrich Heine than was strictly necessary. Voluntarily staying on to sweep up leaves in the playground or help little kids with their homework? No way. So it’s all the more amazinghow seriously these duties are taken at Dunbridge Academy. And somehow, it feels nice to work with the others making sure the school can be the best possible home for us all.
“Make sure you don’t snip too far down, Emma.” I raise my head as Mr.Ringling leans over the roses I’m cutting. I hadn’t even noticed him coming over to us. “Just here is fine. At the moment, we’re just deadheading them.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“Not a problem. This all looks like you’re doing a fantastic job.” Mr.Ringling smiles, and I relax a little, until I realize he’s still watching me. “It’s daft, but every time I look at you, I see your father. He must be very proud of you.”
Fortunately, Tori and the others aren’t around just now. “I have no contact with him,” I say. “My parents split up.”
Mr.Ringling raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I force myself to smile. “Did you know him well?”
“It was a long time ago, but I remember him and your mother very well. It was a shame that he left the school after—”
Mr.Ringling breaks off as Tori, Salome, and a couple of younger girls jump up, screaming.
“Get it away, get it away!” Salome’s braids fly out as she shakes out her hands and grimaces with disgust.
“What’s the matter?” Mr.Ringling straightens up.
“Ew, a snake! There was a snake.” Tori shivers.
“Are you blind?” Valentine calls from the other side of the flowerbed. “It was just a slowworm, and it was tiny.”
“It was massive!”
“And it was definitely more scared of you than you were of it.” Mr.Ringling brushes some mud off his hands and turns toward them. “Slowworms aren’t snakes, they’re legless lizards, and they’re perfectly harmless.”
I’m not listening anymore. It’s what he said about my dad.
It was a shame that he left the school after—Yes, but afterwhat? How can I ask him more about it without the others hearing?
There’s only another fifteen minutes until we have to put down our gloves and secateurs to make it back to school for study time, so I don’t get another chance.
I’m about to go into my room when Tori calls, “Tea?”
By now I know that almost everyone in the sixth form has their own kettle in their room and at least one packet of tea bags. I’ll have to remember to ask Mum if she can get a kettle for me when she comes at the weekend. Until then, I’ll rely on Tori’s generosity—I’ll have to pay her back with a huge box of tea bags soon.
“I’d love one, if you don’t mind,” I say.
Tori rolls her eyes as she fishes about for her key. “Will you stop being so bloody polite? We’re neighbors, and you can have anything you like from me.” She pushes open the door, and I follow her inside. “OK, maybe not that iconic Harry StylesVoguecover. It cost a bomb, but what can you do?”
She puts her key on the desk, every last centimeter of which is, as ever, covered with books, tarot cards, and the camera equipment she uses to film videos for her social media. And there’s that very same famous cover on the wall next to it, along with a fewPolaroids and postcards. There are more books piled on Tori’s chest of drawers and the shelf above her desk. I recognize some from her recent Books of the Month video. She showed me the other day, by way of explaining just what BookTube means. But Tori doesn’t just have heaps of YouTube subscribers. She posts on Instagram and TikTok almost every day, and she’s built up a huge community there too. It doesn’t surprise me, because her book recommendations and photos with Dunbridge in the background are like something straight out of a dark academia Pinterest board.
“Wasn’t I going to give you some more fairy lights?” Tori asks as she disappears into her tiny bathroom with the kettle.
