Ashton nodded slowly as I unwrapped my fingers and took a step back. There was a trace of concern in his eyes, but most of all he looked suspicious. ‘You know I can tell when you’re lying to me.’
‘I don’t intend to. You were right, she… I do like her. If she’s a problem, and clearly I’ve got a problem of my own, then maybe we can kill two birds with one stone. Right?’ I didn’t even have to try to make the words sound sincere, because apart from the first bit, they were true. Unpleasantly so. If it wasn’t for the fact that everything inside me bridled at the thought of using her.
Ashton regarded me for a long time before sighing. ‘Fine by me. But do it properly. The bitch is getting on my nerves.’
‘No problem,’ I said tonelessly, watching him disappear into his staircase.
Do it properly.The words were still racing through my head long after I’d left the deserted college grounds and been swallowed up by the bronze streets and Saturday-night clamour of the town centre.
Do it properly. Do it properly. Do it properly.
As if any of us knew anymore what that even meant.
Chapter8
Mabel
The midday sun fell through the three arched windows, casting soft dappled light onto my notepad. One half of the bird was bathed in white, the other dipped in shimmering lead pencil. I’d been pressing down so hard that the paper was beginning to ripple. No surprise that my hand had drawn the image of its own accord: I’d stared at it so much over the past few days that its contours felt burnt into my retinas.
Normally I tried to stay focused in class, but during this supervision I allowed my mind to wander for a few seconds, if only because I knew that each doodle and every glance out of the window would throw off the person talking. And it did. Matthew had just finished speaking, and now I felt his eyes burning into me. I had to hold back a smile.
The room was lined with books, and contained an oak desk and two velvet armchairs placed across from each other.
Professor Ruiz leant against his desk, eyeing me over the top of his glasses. ‘Miss Golding? Perhaps you’d like to respond?’
‘Sure.’ I concentrated on Matthew, who was sitting opposite me, wearing a plaid shirt. He had one leg crossed over the other, but behind the studiedly casual pose I could see he was readying himself for my response. His expression, as usual, was poised somewhere between boredom, haughtiness and tension.
Matthew and I had ended up in supervisions together– classes where we discussed the course content in small groups– last year, too. Neither of us was happy about it, because we’d realised after the very first session that we definitely did not like each other. I sensed this was why Professor Ruiz had paired us up again: he believed it encouraged deeper discussion if you hated the idea of yielding even an inch of ground to your opponent. And I really did. If I hadn’t already disliked Matthew, any lingering impulse to be polite had evaporated the first time he referred to me asCinderella.
Eventually I shook my head. ‘Sorry, but I’m not sure where to begin. It feels like we’re talking at cross purposes.’
Matthew knitted his blond eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your argument misses the whole point. You obviously haven’t understood the real crux of the theory.’
He uncrossed his legs with a jerk and planted both hands on his knees. ‘I understood it perfectly. Maybe you’re just not capable of following my train of thought.’
I shrugged, smiling. ‘Yeah, maybe. Why don’t you try summarising your argument in two sentences? Slowly and clearly, so I can understand it, too.’
Matthew was silent. With every second that passed, his face turned a deeper shade of red, until he leant abruptly forward, fingers clenching around his knees. Something in his eyes told me he wished they were around my throat. ‘You stupid, arrogant?—’
‘Mr Bassett,’ Professor Ruiz broke in sharply, fist slamming down onto the desk. ‘If you please.’
Matthew leant back in his chair, exhaling. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered grudgingly.
‘No problem.’ I smiled as good-naturedly as I could, knowing it would rile him up even more.
‘Good.’ With a glance at his watch, Ruiz got to his feet. ‘Our time is up. Mr Bassett, I’d like you to prepare an essay for next week that persuades us all you have indeed understood the point. Good work, Miss Golding.’
Matthew was practically skewering me with his glare as I stuffed my things into my bag and slipped into my coat. I eased the collar of my blue floral-patterned top out from underneath the saggy jumper I was wearing over it. Zoe had given it to me. Judging by how new the fabric felt, she’d barely worn it. I knew Zoe sometimes gave things to me that she pretended she simply didn’t want anymore. But ever since I’d found a tag on a pullover she’d supposedly not worn in years, she at least went to the effort of putting new clothes on a couple of times before she offered them to me. It did make me a bit uncomfortable, butgiven that several items in my wardrobe were now more moth-hole than fabric, I forced myself to see it as a grey area, dignity-wise. Especially because I knew Zoe didn’t think of it as patronising or superior.It’s really not a big deal, she had said last spring, when I angrily dumped the pullover onto her bed. I help you with stuff like this, and you help me when I’m stuck on an essay or whatever. That’s what friendship is, Mabel. We support each other in whatever way we can.I didn’t have enough experience of friendship to know if she was right, but I was pretty sure that as friends went, Zoe was rare. And precious.
I ran the tips of my fingers over the bird drawing at the corner of my notepad before I shoved it deeper into the bag and left the room. Ruiz’s office was in Trinity College, which didn’t give me much time to get back to my own college in time for the next supervision.
I was plaiting my hair into a hurried braid as I speedwalked down the corridor. Just as I reached the stairs, I felt someone tread on my heel from behind, so suddenly and so hard that my foot got stuck and I pitched forwards. By sheer good luck, I managed to grab onto the banister and catch myself before I fell down the steps. Heart hammering, I stared into the void on the other side of the railing, then at the floorboards beside me. My toes had slipped out of my shoe and I’d dropped my bag, spilling half its contents noisily down the stairs.
Before I realised what had happened, Matthew was standing next to me, pressing my shoe into my hand. I grasped it reflexively, flinching as he leant towards me. ‘Careful, Cinderella. If you lose this you won’t be able to afford a new one.’
My heart was racing so quickly that I couldn’t think clearly, let alone come up with a half-decent retort. A moment later, Matthew was barging past me, but not without kicking one of my folders even further down the stairs. I waited until he was out of sight then slipped my foot back into my patent leather shoe and knelt down to gather up my things. Two girls deep in conversation gave me a wide berth, and someone else tutted irritably as they stepped over my belongings. I clamped my lips shut, trying not to say anything.
