“Hello, everyone.” Mr.Ward nods to us, and we sit down. And indeed, he doesn’t utter a word about the bag, which sits there in plain sight, like a threat, distracting me for the entire forty-five minutes.
But at least it doesn’t seem like anybody else can concentrate any better. Whether I glance left or right, I see only anxious faces. The hands on the wall clock seem to crawl today, and even when the bell goes, Mr.Ward still hasn’t mentioned the tests.
“Before you all leap up and run away, you may collect your test papers,” he says coolly as the first chair legs scrape and books rustle. At once there’s silence again. Mr.Ward pulls the pile of papers out of the bag. “The results in general leave something to be desired. In some cases, I find myself seriously wondering whether you’ve actually read the novel. But well, they’re your grades, aren’t they? I did my A levels long ago.” He picks up the first booklet. “Attwell,” he says, and Gideon stands up. “Bennington.”
And so it goes on. My fingers are icy cold; my heart is pounding as the others are called up one at a time. Tori walks back, sits down beside me, and turns over her booklet.
“Emma Wiley,” says Mr.Ward, tauntingly slowly. I stand up and walk forward. “You really do take after your father.” He hands me the paper. “There is still just about time to change subjects.”
I say nothing as I return to my place.
“So?” Tori glances anxiously at me.
The lump in my throat grows to the size of a tennis ball as I turn the booklet over.
“Oh, no...” she murmurs. “But it really was superhard. Don’t let it get you down, Emma.”
I nod silently, unable to speak. It’s just a crappy mark. An F.Failed.My first mark at this stupid school that I should never have come to.
Henry
I stand up and pack away my things while Emma’s still sitting in her seat like she’s been struck by lightning. Her test paper is in front of her, and I can’t shake off an uneasy feeling that it didn’t go too well for her.
But that can’t be the only thing. At lunch earlier, she looked on the edge of tears. She hardly touched her sandwich, when she normally eats like a horse, which is hardly surprising given the incredible efforts she demands of her body pretty much every day. Something must have happened.
I hurriedly stuff my iPad into my bag, and Emma stands up too.
“Henry, did you have a chance to speak to Mrs.Sinclair about the New Year Ball?” asks Inés, who has suddenly appeared beside me.
“No, not yet, sorry,” I say, glancing in Emma’s direction.
“Do you think we could...?” she continues, but I’ve stopped listening as Emma reaches for her bag and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. Only for a moment, but it’s enough to make my heart lurch. She’s crying.
“Inés, I’m really sorry, I have to see Mr.Ringling now,” I lie. “But I’ll speak to Mrs.Sinclair. Promise.”
“That would be great,” says Inés.
I force myself to smile, then abandon her, only just remembering to get my phone from the pigeonhole. Emma’s forgotten hers. It’s the one with the gray-blue case. I know because it’s almost the color of her eyes.
Without further ado, I pick it up and leave the room. I look around the corridor, but I can’t see Emma anywhere. Where did she go? I can’t even text her now.
After only a few feet, I spot Emma in one of the alcoves down the corridor. She’s got her back to me, and if I hadn’t just seen her crying, I’d think she was just waiting for someone there. When I tap her shoulder, she jumps. Her eyes are slightly red.
“Hi.” She gulps, and it breaks my heart to see how hard she’s trying to keep control of herself.
“You forgot your phone,” I say, but there are so many things I want to say instead.
What’s wrong?
Talk to me.
What can I do to make it better?
Emma looks from my face to my hand. “Oh. Thanks.”
“That test was so hard,” I blurt. “There was no need for Mr.Ward to dump a thing like that on us right at the start of term.”
“Did it go badly for you too?” she asks.
