“Just wondered. She might have heard from Emma.”
“You mean ’cause Emma wasn’t at dinner?” He waits for me to nod. “No idea. Tori didn’t mention it.”
“Oh, OK,” I say before he can ask why I’m so bothered. If Tori didn’t say anything, I’m sure Emma’s fine. Or else she hadn’t seen her... I find that hard to imagine, though. Tori likes Emma. She took her under her wing on her first day here.
“Why?” asks Sinclair. His pale eyes bore into mine, and when it comes down to it, I know it’s no use lying to my best friend. He knows me too well. But there are some things you have to work out for yourself before you can tell anyone else about them. And this thing with Emma is one of those.
“Quiet time in ten minutes, lads!” Mr.Acevedo’s voice rings down the hallway. “That includes you two,” he adds, pointing toward Sinclair and me and clattering his lanyard.
“Yes, sir!” Sinclair salutes with his toast, then gives me a challenging look.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” I say evasively. He takes another bite and I reach for my key. There’s something in his expression I don’t like. But he just unlocks his door.
“Sleep well, Bennington,” he mumbles.
“You too.”
I press the light switch, walk into my room, and the noises die away as my door clicks shut. For a moment, I stand still, indecisive, then toss my rucksack onto the chair and let myself fall onto the bed.
Somehow the quiet is driving me nuts. And so’s the silence from Grace. She sat next to me in enrichment, and we didn’t say a word to each other. After that, she had Italian and I was busywith prep supervision. Everything’s shit, and I don’t even know what there is to say to her, so I don’t say anything. Maybe that’s because part of me is hoping she’ll make the decision for the two of us. Right now, I don’t feel that I can. I don’t want to lose her, not as a good friend. That’s the only thing I’m certain of. And I would if I ended things between us. It would be over. Forever. I’d give anything to be able to creep over to the west wing, like in the old days, and pour my heart out to Maeve. She always had some kind of answer. I could email her, or even call her. Maeve will definitely still be up, but I’m not in the mood to explain this whole mess over the phone. So I just lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
I find myself thinking about Emma again. Hopefully Tori’s with her to comfort her.
I shut my eyes.
Why is it so important to me to know how she’s doing? If I worried constantly about the well-being of all four hundred and thirty-two pupils at this school, it would keep me seriously busy. But Emma’s in my head. Emma’s everywhere I want to be. What am I thinking?
I blink as my hoodie pocket vibrates. I sit bolt upright and grab my phone.
E:No, it’s all fine, honest. I just wasn’t hungry
No matter how often I read the words, I don’t believe her. Meanwhile, the fact that she replied has set my heart beating faster.
H:Want to talk about it?
She doesn’t answer right away, but she’s still online. She starts typing.
I reach for a cushion, jam it between the wall and my back, and settle in for a long night.
Emma
I don’t know why, but it’s kind of a relief to send Henry lots of little messages, telling him the things that are making my belly ache right now. It’s long after ten, everything’s gone quiet outside, and we ought to have been asleep ages ago. The Wi-Fi is switched off at wing time, so this is really hammering my data.
It’s a mix of texts and short voice notes, and I already feel like I’ve known Henry all my life. I should probably be scared by how much I want to tell him. But for some reason, I’m certain that all this stuff is safe with him.
How much it hurts seeing Isi with Noah. That my best friend’s ghosting me and that I’m suddenly no longer part of what used to be my life.
I tell Henry everything. Even how scared I get when I think that my dad might not want anything to do with me if I ever do find him.
That I feel guilty about keeping secrets from Mum. That I feel like I’m getting carried away with this plan and forgettinghow to stop. And how disappointed I was that Mum’s work took priority over me yet again.
I message him with it all, as I’m lying in bed, then I eventually get up and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and pull on my sleepshirt. My head aches, my eyes are sore from crying, but I can’t stop. It’s 11:48, and Henry’s not online anymore.
I resist the temptation to switch back to Instagram and put myself through more humiliation in the shape of Isi’s story. But she’s probably not posting that stuff now. She’s with Noah. In his room, in his bed. Stop it, stop it, stop it.
I click on Henry’s profile photo instead. OK, so you can’t see much of his face, which is half hidden under his hood, but I can’t help smiling. Because seeing how happy he looks makes me happy. Because I know that that smile is even more attractive in real life. Even if I’m not the person it’s aimed at. And that’s the next issue. Grace, who wasn’t quite as nice as usual today, and for good reason. Because I like Henry. A bit more than just like him, actually. And I don’t even want to like him—I’ve had enough of guys who play with my emotions, then vanish out of my life. Seriously, I’ve had it up to here.
I sink back into my pillows and shut my eyes. But if I’ve had enough, why do I keep thinking about the next one? Why do I have to be this person who can’t just switch off her stupid emotions? It feels wrong to think about Henry in that way. He doesn’t feel likethe next one. He feels like the one where everything’s a bit different. And that’s exactly what scares me. I didn’t come to this school to make friends, let alone fall in love. Way too much else in my life is a work in progress right now for me to get involvedwith anybody. I have to find out who I am. I have to be independent and unapproachable. But it just feels so nice to be looked at by Henry. And I can’t even think about what that means. God, he’s got a girlfriend. Why would he wantme? This broken, bitter person who’ll be gone again in a year. It makes no sense.
