I answer hastily, before I lose my nerve.
S:Perfect. Looking forward to it!
I slowly lower my phone, feeling like a traitor. And then I focus on my work again.
13
TORI
‘This looks a bit like a hand, doesn’t it?’ We’ve got an art session in Enrichment and Emma’s spent hours working on this lump of clay, but despite all her efforts, it’s more reminiscent of some kind of accident. ‘What do you think?’
I just nod because I haven’t the heart to tell her the truth. Emma might wipe the floor with the rest of us when it comes to sport, but her artistic talents leave a little to be desired. It’s kind of hilarious how similar she and Henry are in this respect. His clay sculpture is just as shapeless, but I’m trying not to look in his direction – he’s sitting next to Sinclair.
‘Tori?’
‘Hm?’ I look up.
Emma’s leaning down to take a closer look at my work. ‘Why does yours look so much more realistic?’ She sounds so disillusioned that I start to feel sorry for her.
‘You have to pay attention to the proportions. You haven’t made the fingers long enough, I’m afraid.’
Emma sighs in frustration. ‘I’m sick of this.’
‘It’s still pretty good, Emma.’
She glances past me to where Henry and Sinclair are sitting. ‘I’m going to join the boys’ table and make myself feel better bylaughing at Henry’s model,’ she announces cheerily. I make no move to follow her, so she pauses. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m in the zone just now.’
Liar . . . I’ve been staring at my work for at least ten minutes without lifting a finger.
‘Hm.’ Emma sits back down. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What’s the problem?’ she says, not taking her eyes off me. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Why do you say that?’ I ask feebly, but Emma’s too good a judge of character – we’ve barely known each other six months but she can see right through me.
‘You’re upset,’ she says.
I want to cry. My stupid eyes are welling up so I blink a few times. ‘I’m just tired,’ I say, forcing myself to smile.
Emma looks over at Ms Barnett who’s marking tests at the front.
‘Come on,’ she murmurs, nodding at the door. In these Enrichment classes, we’re allowed to chat, and we don’t have to ask permission to leave the room to use the loo.
I follow Emma to the sinks where we wash the clay off our hands. Sinclair glances across and immediately looks away again. As we pass Olive and Grace, Olive keeps her head firmly down. A room full of people who used to be my friends and now hate me. Great.
Emma shuts the door behind us. I don’t know why, but being out in the corridors during lessons still feels kind of out of bounds.
‘So,’ Emma says, as we walk side by side, ‘is this about Sinclair and Eleanor?’
I laugh. ‘What – because they got the main roles? Rubbish. I’m happy for them.’
Emma eyes me sceptically. ‘OK . . . Val, then? Or Olive?’ she adds, and I don’t know why, but her name is like a stab in the chest. For a moment at Sinclair’s party, I felt a bit hopeful, but since then, Olive’s been just as off with me as she has for weeks. We haven’t even discussed the uniform thing, and I’d hoped the subject might bring us closer together again. But it looks like we just don’t have anything to say to each other any more.
‘Maybe a bit of everything,’ I admit.
