“Well, that’s kind of a bonus, right?”
I bark out a hollow laugh as we push through the glass doors at the entrance to the building. Jess is helping her mum in the library again today and I have drama workshops all afternoon, which I’m hoping will be ridiculous enough to distract me from all the trauma. Again.
“I don’t know how you’re going back into that library after yesterday.”
“I wasn’t the one who got trapped in the mobile shelving units. Plus, Mum’s not been feeling great since. She’s struggling to pick things up so I’m going to be stacking shelves, mainly.” She glances around and lowers her voice. “Plus, Will didn’t come to work this morning.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Holy hell.” Was that because he was knackered from a night spent creeping around my halls, taking and deleting pictures to make me look like a complete nutter? Or had he been looking out for Jasmine while she did it, convinced to help make my life miserable. I haven’t seen her sneering face today, either.
Or was it just coincidence?
“Anyway, have fun at your workshops,” says Jess. “You wanna meet here when you’re done?”
“Yeah, please.” I start to follow the mass of students trickling down to the drama studios. “I finish at five – see you then?”
“Yep, see you then.” She waves me off as I allow the chattering crowd to carry me away.
“. . .and the information will be outside the theatre studio. I expect you will all apply.”
What information? I realize I’ve just spent the last five minutes of my workshop totally zoned out. I’m so tired, you could pack for a fortnight in Spain in my eyebags alone. I need to sort myself out.
I collect my stuff from the side of the room and zip myself back into the hoodie I’d discarded earlier. The class was actually really interesting. There was a lot of emotion recall though, a technique where you remember past experiences to help you with a scene. I used the memory of seeing my sister in our messy shared bedroom back home. It left me feeling pretty tired and vulnerable. Still, I’m hoping a catch up with Jess will make me feel better before I head home.
Home. Ha.
I spot a group chattering their way to the exit, and I follow them, hoping I’ll find out what I missed at the end of class. They’re talking about the scholarship essays and I relax. Thanks to Ruth, I actually had a head start for once.
Then I hear a familiar voice.
“Yeah, she woke up last night. I mean, I had to go and visit her straight away, she’s practically my best friend, you know?” Jasmine is just ahead of me with a handful of students, all hanging off her every word. So she made it in, after all. “She looked awful, poor thing, all bruised and battered. I felt terrible. I mean, that could have happened to me!”
Oh, please.
“So, did she say who did it?” one of her cronies asks.
“Oh, I didn’t stay long,” she lowers her voice and I try my best to linger inconspicuously. “St. Mary’s is a bit of a dive, I didn’t want to hang around, I mean we usually go private. I just dropped off some chocs because she was sleeping.”
“So, you didn’t even stay to talk to her?” Oops, did I say that out loud?
Jasmine’s eyes flash at me. “Oh, it’s you,” she sneers. “I had somewhere to be, not that it’s any of your business.” She flips her silky hair over one shoulder and the buttons of her cardigan flash in the neon lights. It looks familiar.
“I bet you did. Hey, is. . .” I study the velvet edging and cropped sleeves. It is! “Is that my cardigan?”
“What are you talking about?” Is it just me or is there a shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes? “This is my top.”
“Prove it, then.” The group falls silent, watching. I hear a whispered “Girl fight!” from the back.
Jasmine takes a step towards me, all uncertainty gone.
“Do you really think I would wear some trashy little backwater-town hand-me-down?” She lifts an arm and gives an exaggerated sniff, her pretty lip twisting in a sneer. “This can’t be yours, it doesn’t smell of potatoes.” A few sniggers give her a boost of confidence she really doesn’t need. “Or desperation. I wouldn’t be seendeadin something belonging to a hillbilly like you.”
Tears burn my eyes as I try to think of a retort, but Jasmine turns away. She’s done with me. I can still smell her minty breath as she addresses her entourage, as though nothing at all has happened.
“So, who’s coming to Ben’s party tomorrow? It’s at this haunted theatre, supposedly. I’ll be able to tell, I mean I am a very spiritual being. . .”
