‘All right.’ Eleanor smiles. ‘Then we will.’
14
TORI
Getting over someone means acting like an adult around them. No more ignoring them or looking away. I notice I’m confusing Sinclair by beingperfectly ordinaryinstead of huffy. And, lo and behold, after French he asks if everything’s OK. In a slightly guilty-sounding way that’s probably meant kind of as an apology. Normally I’d tell him to piss off, but as I’m over him now, I pull myself together and offer to listen to him learning his lines again if he likes.
We agree to meet up in the theatre at the end of the school day and head off to our own classes. I’m early for history, and can’t see Emma anywhere, but the door to the English classroom is ajar. I pause as I hear voices from inside.
‘What’s wrong, Olive?’ Mr Acevedo. I hold my breath. ‘I thought your last test result was just you having a bad day, but the latest one was worse, I’m afraid.’
There’s a long silence. Part of me wants to creep away as quietly as possible, to wait somewhere else.
‘I don’t know.’ Olive’s voice sounds thin. ‘I didn’t do enough revision.’
‘I’d be happy to believe you, Olive, but all your teachers are concerned about you. It’s not just in my subject where you’restruggling. I know A levels are a big step up, and we all want you to do as well as you possibly can in your exams next year.’
My throat clenches. I’d noticed that Olive’s grades haven’t been amazing lately, but I hadn’t known quite how bad they’d got.
‘I’ll do better.’ I hear her quiet voice. In the ensuing silence, I can practically see Mr Acevedo’s serious, worried face. ‘It’s just that everything’s kind of difficult just now.’
‘I’d like to help you, Olive, but you have to tell me what you need.’
‘Nothing,’ she says at once.
‘Let me make a suggestion. As you know, we’ve started rehearsals for our end-of-year play now. We could always use some help behind the scenes, with costumes and make-up and so on. Would you like to get involved in that? I’d be very happy to have you and it always looks good to have taken part in this kind of activity – I can mention it when I write your reference.’
‘I’m not sure if it’s really my thing,’ I hear Olive say.
‘Having something to take your mind off your troubles, whatever they are, might be beneficial, Olive. I can’t emphasize enough that we want to help you get the grades you deserve.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Please do. And you can always come to me for personal concerns as well as schoolwork. And if you’d rather speak to a woman, Ms Vail’s door is always open, as you know. So is Mrs Sinclair’s. But I don’t have to tell you that, Olive. You’ve been at this school long enough, hm?’
‘Yes, thank you, I do know.’
‘Good. Well, be off with you.’
I step back hurriedly as I hear approaching footsteps. The door opens and Olive sees me on the other side of the hallway. She hesitates as Mr Acevedo follows her out of the room and hurries away.
‘Hi,’ I say, before Olive can vanish too. She eyes me doubtfully. ‘It would be fab if you were in the drama club too.’
Her face instantly hardens. ‘You were listening in?’
Shit . . . My cheeks start burning. ‘No, sorry, I . . . OK, yes. I was early for history and I couldn’t help overhearing, but I . . .’
‘Why do you always have to stick your nose into other people’s business?’ Olive snaps. There’s no hint of brokenness in her voice now. ‘We’re not friends any more. What part of that is so hard to understand?’
I flinch. ‘I thought—’
‘Stop it. Just stop it, OK?’
There’s so much I want to say, but Olive doesn’t let me. She turns away. I watch as she shakes her head, and I feel grim. Because she’s right, it really wasn’t OK to listen to her conversation with Mr Acevedo. And my stomach churns when I think about what he said. It’s out of character for Olive not to give a shit about anything. Something must have happened and I can only hope she’s got someone to talk to about it. It never even occurred to me that Olive might be finding the work so hard. She’s always done well at school – no more of a straight-As kind of person than I am, but always good enough.
I find it hard to concentrate on my next classes. I’m not with Olive for anything today and I don’t bump into her in the corridors anywhere. After lessons finish, I’m about to go up to our wing to look for her when I run into Sinclair, who reminds me that we agreed to practise his lines. He asks if I’m all right and I just nod, forcing myself not to think about Olive. Maybe I’ll get a chance to speak to her in the next couple of days and apologize. Maybe I could use the uniform thing as an excuse to talk to her. It got kind of forgotten about after Sinclair’s party, unfortunately, and I’ve got my hands full with the scriptwriting club and the assistant-director business. But it’s too important to me to just drop it again, especially after last Monday whenanother group of fourth-formers staged a protest by wearing trousers to the morning assembly and were sent back to their rooms to change.
We’ve got an hour before the rehearsal, and we have the theatre to ourselves until then. I’d been expecting the doors to be locked, but they open when Sinclair gives them a tug. He steps to the side and lets me go ahead of him. The carpeted stairs swallow the sound of our footsteps. It’s almost unnaturally quiet once the doors have shut out the buzz of voices from outside.
