‘I don’t want to interfere in your friendship, but would it help if you and Olive just talked? Just quietly?’
I can clearly hear how carefully Emma’s picking her words. But they still make me angry. I’d love to do that – talk to Olive – but if she doesn’t want to, what can I do? I can’t make her open up to me.
‘Sorry, but no. It’s like we don’t have anything to say to each other.’
‘Do you really mean that?’ Emma asks.
‘OK, not exactly. It’s Olive who doesn’t have anything to say to me. I’d love to talk to her but we hardly ever do. We haven’t even had an actual argument. Suddenly, things were permanently tense, and she’s got more and more withdrawn ever since.’ I feel my throat tighten.
‘Is it possible that Olive’s dealing with some big load of baggage and thinks she can’t tell anyone about it?’
I’m silent for a while. ‘Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any better. We always used to be able to talk about anything.’
‘Sometimes people forget that.’
‘Emma, why are you even sticking up for her? Olive wasn’t exactly nice to you last term.’
Emma stares at her shoes. Then she shrugs her shoulders. ‘I can see myself in her. And I got so much wrong.’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘I could understand why she was angry, and it’s much better now.’
‘Did she ever apologize to you?’ I ask.
‘Not directly. But in her way she did.’ Emma looks at me again. ‘When Henry was in the sick bay, she got them to let me in to see him. It felt like her way of making peace.’
‘It really was.’
‘Maybe something like that could work for you two.’
I sigh quietly. Maybe. But maybe not. The only thing I’m certain of is that, if things carry on like this, I’m going to lose Olive. And that would kill me. She, Sinclair and Henry are my oldest friends at Dunbridge. But she’s more than that. She’s the sister I never had. We’ve never had secrets from each other and it hurts that that’s changed. ‘I hope so,’ I say.
‘Oh.’ Emma looks guiltily over her shoulder as we hear footsteps behind us. It’s Mrs Sinclair coming round the corner with Mr Harper.
Emma glances at me, but they’ve already seen us.
‘Good morning,’ I say, as they walk past. I avoid addressing Mrs Sinclair by name if at all possible. Outside school, I’m allowed to call her Nora, the same way that Sinclair’s on first-name terms with my parents, but here she’s Mrs Sinclair to me, the same as for everyone else.
‘Tori, Emma.’ She gives us a nod. ‘Shouldn’t you two be in class?’
‘We were just heading back,’ Emma says. She’s pretty much the worst liar I know.
I’m sure Mrs Sinclair thinks the same. She studies us briefly. ‘Well, be quick about it, please.’
She continues her conversation with Mr Harper as we walk on.
‘Loos,’ I say, the moment they’re out of earshot.
Emma nods at once.
‘How’s things with your dad?’ I ask.
Emma doesn’t answer right away. It’s a tricky subject, I know. But Emma’s become too good a friend for me to leave it at that. I want to know how she is and what’s up in her life.
‘He’s making an effort,’ she says. ‘Seriously. He messages regularly and asks how I’m doing. We might be meeting up next week. He wants to get to know Henry.’
‘That’s nice,’ I say. Emma’s not looking thrilled. ‘Isn’t it?’
