I hold back any reply and start eating.The plane croissant is vile, but I don’t have much choice—the only alternative is a sandwich that doesn’t look any more appetizing.
“It’s important for you to know who to contact in an emergency.”
“No kidding.”I stare out of the window again and force myself to focus on the landscape flitting past and not the shakes, which won’t stop.We left the city behind ages ago, and we’re in the total wilderness.Hills, sad-looking bushes, and nothing but sheep everywhere.After a few minutes without spotting a single house, I give Mom a quick sideways glance.
She points up ahead, and then I see it too.I hate to admit it, but for a moment there, I’m almost impressed.Dunbridge Academy looks like a castle.It sits high above a bend in a river, with fields and trees in the background.The dark-brick building looks more imposing than it does in the photos I saw online.But also more weathered.
And there’s nothing else.A small lake, a river that snakes through the landscape.I read somewhere that there were stores within walking distance, but it doesn’t look as though they actually exist.
“I thought there was a town nearby?”
Mom looks over for a second.“Yes, Ebrington.”She points to the houses on the other side of the school.“The village.”
“The village?”I repeat in disbelief.I guess I didn’t read the brochure carefully enough because I thought it was in Edinburgh.I was wondering why we’d been on the road so long.Now I get it.We’re not in Edinburgh anymore.And Edinburgh may not be New York, but it was something I could have worked with.But this...It’s an insult.
“You won’t want for anything at the school,” Mom says.“Besides which, you’re here to concentrate on your studies.”
For God’s sake, she can’t leave me here.
I was born at New York Presbyterian; I’ve lived my whole life in Manhattan.I knew it was a privilege to have the whole big city on your doorstep, and I knew it wasn’t the same everywhere.But how can people live like this?There’s nothing here.Nothing!It might be kind of nice for a two-week vacation, but not for the long term.I won’t even have a fucking car.
And no signal either, I realize, as I check my cell phone.Oh, God, let there be Wi-Fi in this jail...
I tense as the driver steers the car over the bridge into the cobblestoned inner courtyard.OK, I admit it’s kind of cool.It feels like we’ve crashed some movie set, because everywhere I look, I see teenagers in hoodies or jackets with the school logo on them.Where are the dumb kilts and blazers from the website?I get a bad feeling that I’m going to be acquainted with them by tomorrow morning when classes start, because I had to give the school my measurements in advance so they could order the uniform for me.
“Won’t be long,” Mom tells the driver once he’s unloaded my bags.Her words are a stab in the chest.What was I expecting?Her to take me to my room, to hold my hand?Ava Fantino’s a busy woman with no time to waste.Least of all on her useless son who causes her nothing but trouble.
The driver doesn’t look thrilled, but he nods.
“Where’s the principal’s office?”Mom asks the first group of kids to come into the courtyard through the gate.They’re younger than me, and I feel their curious eyes on me.Did I mention how little I like being the new guy?It makes me nauseous.I say nothing.Not “hi” and not “thanks” as they actually show us the way.I feel uneasy that we’re just leaving my suitcase standing there, but hey, this isn’t fucking Times Square.
“Are you new?”a girl asks, stroking back her hair.
I make an effort not to roll my eyes, just chew the gum I found in my pocket.“Looks like it, huh?”
“Where are you from?”
I sigh deeply.I’m not in the mood to chat.It’s not worth it.“New York City,” I say.
“Wow,” she says.“That’s cool.”Eyes me.Respect.But the two guys with her drop back a bit, look scornful, start to whisper.What am I doing here?
I stop listening to what they’re saying as we walk to the office.The door opens.A guy who’s already past his prime invites us in, ushers us to the principal’s office.No, thehead teacher’s office.Dark wood, a huge desk.The head teacher’s younger than I expected, and she looks friendlier than I imagined.
“Colin, Ms.Fantino.”She comes toward us.“Nice to meet you in person.”She holds her hand out to Mom and then to me.“Welcome to Dunbridge Academy.”
4
Olive
“Olive,” Dad says after I haven’t said a word for the whole drive from Edinburgh to Dunbridge Academy.I didn’t speak over breakfast with Mum either.“I understand that you’re peeved, love.”There’s sympathy in his voice now.
“I’m not peeved,” I say.Which is true.I’m not peeved; I’m desperate.There’s a difference.“I’m just not in the mood.”
“It’s for the best, pet.”
“Stopping me seeing my friends?That’s for the best?”I turn to Dad.“Not that it matters, I guess, after all those weeks in hospital.I’m out of the loop now anyway.”
“You know it’s in your best interests to repeat the lower sixth.”
