Night School

by C. J. Daugherty

  She slid out along the gnarled branch away from him, then sat with one leg dangling and the other bent, with her foot propped on the branch. He turned to face her, so that his back rested against the trunk. Spinning a twig between two fingers, he studied her curiously. She watched the lawnmowers make grass disappear and pretended not to notice his gaze. From up here she could hear the sound of rushing water.

  ‘Look,’ Carter said, ‘I’ve been wanting to get you alone so that I could apologise.’

  She glanced up at him, surprised. He looked, she thought, uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

  ‘I gave you the wrong idea the other day in the library,’ he said. ‘I know you thought I was saying something I wasn’t. I think you have as much a right as anybody else does to be here. OK? Please believe that.’

  Although she nodded, her expression was still guarded. He sighed with frustration.

  ‘I feel terrible about this. You must think I’m a complete dick.’

  She nodded again with an ironic half-smile, and he laughed. She tried to fight a smile and failed.

  ‘I knew it. Allie, I hope you believe me. I didn’t mean what you thought I did. Not at all. I hate the snobs at this school. I won’t be one of them. Can we start over?’

  Something in her didn’t trust him. But then, she thought, something in her didn’t trust anyone. And what was the point of dragging this out?

  ‘Sure,’ she said finally.

  ‘Good. Now we’re at the beginning again.’ Looking out over the garden he said, ‘Right. Well, that was short and sweet. Looks like they’re getting somewhere. We better get started.’

  He jumped down from the tree, landing smoothly, and turned to help her down. As she slid to the edge of the branch, he reached past her outstretched hand and put his hands on her waist, lifting her off the tree with ease. She was surprised at his strength.

  ‘Off to work we go,’ he said, turning away to pick up the rakes. Watching his loping stride, she followed him into the graveyard.

  The gravestones gave little away (‘Emma Littlejohn, beloved Wife of Frederick Littlejohn and Mother of Frances Littlejohn 1803–1849 God grant ye Reste’) but she found herself unable to pass one without reading it and thinking about the occupant, wondering if they’d had happy lives and what had brought them to this place.

  Forty-six. Not really that old, she thought. Her own mother was probably at least that now.

  The mowers had already made a pretty good start on the long grass, and Carter handed Allie a rake and began combing the grass and leaves expertly into large piles. She joined in raking as best she could, and whispering an apology to each grave.

  Sorry to disturb you, Mrs Coxon (1784–1827). I’ll just be a moment.

  But her pile was a mess and she lost half of the grass on the way to the stack.

  ‘You’re really great at this,’ Carter said sardonically.

  ‘Shut up!’ She laughed. ‘Give me a break. I’ve never done this before.’

  ‘Never done what? Raked?’ He looked genuinely surprised.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve never raked.’ She shrugged.

  ‘How have you never raked? Don’t your parents make you do anything?’ His tone was disapproving.

  ‘I live in London, Carter. We don’t have a garden, we’ve got, like, a patio with lots of pots and some flowers around the edge. I’ve swept it plenty of times, but I’ve never raked.’

  He worked in silence for a few minutes then shook his head. ‘London must be full of kids who’ve never done anything like this. That is so weird to me. I can’t imagine not working outside, getting my hands dirty.’

  Leaning against her rake, she marvelled at how efficiently he worked.

  ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.

  He made a sweeping gesture at the land around them. ‘You’re looking at it.’

  ‘What, you live around here?’

  ‘I live here. Here is home.’

  Puzzled, she raked for a few minutes then stopped again, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

  ‘But where did you live before here?’

  ‘Nowhere. This is where I grew up. My parents worked here as part of the staff. I’m here on scholarship. I’ve never lived anywhere else.’

  ‘Your parents are teachers?’

  Still working, he answered her without looking up. ‘No. My parents were part of the staff.’ He emphasised were and staff.

  ‘So,’ Allie worried the grass with her rake, ‘they don’t work here any more?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was cold. ‘They don’t let you work here after you’re dead.’

  Allie froze. He worked furiously; she could see the muscles move under his shirt.

  Here lie Mr and Mrs West. At peace.

  ‘Oh God, Carter. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  He kept raking. ‘Of course you didn’t. How could you? Don’t worry about it.’

  Dropping her rake, she walked over and touched his arm.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’

  Jerking his arm away, he glared at her. ‘Don’t be. And, seriously? I don’t want to be here all day, so would you help?’

  Stung, she picked up her rake and walked a few graves away. For twenty minutes they worked in silence. Allie’s back and arms ached, but she’d made several impressive piles of leaves and grass. She looked over at Carter several times, but he never stopped.

  Gradually, the awful buzzing of the garden equipment declined, and after another ten minutes or so it stopped altogether as the last grass trimmer was turned off and returned to Mr Ellison, who was carefully organising the returned supplies.

  ‘I think we’re done here.’

  Allie was so lost in her work that Carter’s words startled her and she dropped her rake. As she picked it up, the strand of hair escaped again, and she brushed it back again absently.

  ‘Here,’ he said, ‘turn around.’

  She looked at him doubtfully but after a moment’s hesitation did as he asked. Standing behind her, he smoothed the errant lock, gently winding it into her clip. She stood very still. His light touch on the nape of her neck gave her goose-bumps. After a few seconds the touch stopped, but he said nothing.

  When she turned around, he was walking to the chapel carrying both rakes. She hurried after him, tripping over a tuft of grass.

  ‘Here you go, Bob,’ Carter said, handing the rakes to Mr Ellison.

  ‘Thanks. You in trouble again, Carter?’

  ‘Always.’

  Mr Ellison had a deep chuckle that Allie liked instantly. She smiled up at him, and stuck her hands into her pockets.

  ‘I hope we did an OK job, Mr Ellison.’

  He smiled at her kindly. ‘It looks great, Miss Sheridan. Thanks for your help.’

  As they walked down the path he called after them, ‘Don’t let Carter get you into any more trouble.’

  Without waiting for her, Carter strode across the churchyard and then out the gate.

  Briefly Allie wondered whether she should try and catch up with him, but she decided against it. Instead she walked at a leisurely pace hoping he’d get far ahead of her.

  A few minutes later, though, as she rounded a bend he was standing on the path, kicking a stone. Avoiding his eyes she walked past him quickly, without a word.

  ‘Allie, wait!’ She could hear him running to catch up with her, but she didn’t turn around. When he reached her he began walking alongside her, backwards so that he could see her face.

  ‘Here’s the thing,’ he said, ‘I seem to have behaved like an arse again.’

  ‘No worries,’ she said coolly. ‘At least you’re consistent.’

  She was surprised to hear him laugh.

  ‘OK, I deserve that. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m just really sensitive about … some things.’ His eyes darkened and he kicked a rock off the path.

  Allie thought about Christopher and how sensitive she’d been about his disappearance.

  ‘It’s cool,’ she said. ‘
I’m over it.’

  ‘You sure?’ he said.

  ‘Totally.’

  Clearly satisfied, he turned around and walked beside her.

  ‘Have you recovered from last night, then?’ he asked.

  She looked over at him, surprised. ‘How do you know about last night?’

  ‘Nobody has any secrets at Cimmeria,’ he said. ‘I heard Jo got hurt running in the dark.’

  Allie wondered how honest she should be. She wanted to talk about it with somebody, but she was afraid Carter would make fun of her.

  ‘It was scary,’ she admitted.

  ‘What exactly did you see?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I mean, it was too dark. We just heard …’

  She didn’t know how to explain it.

  ‘What did you hear?’ His dark eyes were hard to read.

  ‘I heard something growl,’ she admitted, ‘like a dog. But I heard footsteps, too. The human kind.’

  ‘What do you think it could have been?’ she asked. ‘I mean, do people have dogs here? Like teachers or … staff?’

  ‘No dogs,’ he said shortly.

  ‘Well, somebody has a dog,’ she muttered. ‘Or somebody growls.’

  He stopped so suddenly she nearly tripped into him.

  ‘Honestly?’ he said. ‘I think it was some of the guys teasing you. Trying to scare you.’

  For some reason she hadn’t expected that.

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘That’s stupid.’

  ‘Because they’re childish,’ he said. ‘And bored. And you’re new. They did it for fun.’

  The idea that a gang of boys would make fun of her did seem plausible. And it hurt, though she tried not to show it. As they walked down the path she stared at her feet, swallowing hard. But something about his explanation didn’t ring true. Because what about Jo? She’d been there, too.

  As she thought it through, she decided there were only two possibilities. Either the incident had been an elaborate hoax, in which Gabe and Sylvain had both participated. Or Carter was lying to her.

  She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes – he was staring straight ahead.

  ‘You know, Gabe and Sylvain rescued us,’ she said casually. ‘Were they in on it?’

  Carter’s mood darkened. ‘Oh, they rescued you, huh? How heroic.’ He turned to look at her. ‘What’s going on between you and Sylvain, anyway? You’ve only been here a few days, but I hear he’s already staking a claim.’

  She couldn’t resist rising to the bait.

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Nobody’s claiming anybody. Sylvain’s just been nice to me. He seems like a nice guy.’

  ‘Sylvain? Nice?’ Carter scoffed. ‘I doubt that very seriously.’

  She glared at him. ‘You know what? Sylvain has been nothing but nice to me since I got here. Unlike just about everybody else.’

  Grabbing her arm, he turned her to face him. ‘Just … be careful, Allie. Things aren’t as straightforward in here as they are out there.’

  His expression was intense and he looked sincere, but she yanked her arm loose angrily. Before she could reply she heard Sylvain’s silken voice.

  ‘Allie. There you are. I was just coming to find you.’

  He appeared out of the shadows, walking down the path from the school. Carter gave her a warning look and she shot him a glare.

  ‘Carter. Of course. I should have known you’d have detention today. You always do.’ Sylvain’s tone was light and joking, but there was something serious underlying his words.

  ‘And you, Sylvain, never do.’ Carter’s voice was laced with contempt as he shoved past Sylvain and stalked away towards the school.

  With concern in his eyes, Sylvain turned to Allie. ‘Did something happen? You look upset.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Allie said as Carter disappeared around a bend. ‘He’s just a bit of a tosser, isn’t he?’

  ‘I think that describes him perfectly.’ When Sylvain smiled his eyes were cat-like. ‘So how was detention? Awful?’

  ‘It wasn’t too bad. Just one blister.’ She held up her right hand, where a white bump had formed on her palm at the base of her ring finger.

  ‘Tragic.’ He lifted her hand up to his lips and lightly kissed it. Allie shivered. Goosebumps again. ‘I have decided you should never do manual labour,’ he said. ‘It’s not your style. You should have servants feeding you, while you wear silk …’

  The absurdity of the idea made her laugh. ‘Yeah, they could peel me grapes while I count my diamonds …’

  ‘You joke, but it could happen.’ He still held her hand, and now he pulled her with him down the path. ‘Regretfully, this is not merely a social call. I have come for you at the request of Isabelle. She would like to see you.’

  Allie’s stomach muscles tightened. She wasn’t really surprised that the headmistress would want to see her, given that she’d already been given detention. But she was so hoping not to be in serious trouble for a change.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I guess that’s not a surprise.’

  As they walked she turned to look at him. ‘About last night …’

  ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘The brutal attack in the garden.’

  His tone was teasing but Allie was serious. ‘Who was that? I heard footsteps, and, like, a dog or something.’

  ‘I think the footsteps you heard were probably Gabe and me,’ Sylvain said. ‘And what you thought was a dog was probably a fox.’

  ‘A fox that growls?’ Allie asked dubiously.

  ‘It could have been trapped in one of the sheds and distressed,’ Sylvain shrugged. ‘It is not unusual.’

  Allie studied his face closely. ‘Carter said he thought it was some boys making fun of me.’

  Sylvain frowned. ‘That is ridiculous. I would know if that had happened. It is bizarre to me that he would say such a thing.’

  For some reason, Allie was relieved to hear him say that. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That’s what I thought, too.’

  As the path reached the school’s grassy lawn, Allie had a thought. ‘Why did Isabelle send you to get me rather than one of the junior students?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, I was at a prefect meeting and we were chatting,’ he said. ‘It’s not unusual. She knows we are … friends.’

  She glanced at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you were a prefect.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ he said, pulling her closer. ‘Well now that you know, you must do everything I say. Because I am the boss.’

  Laughing, she pulled free of him. ‘Oh is that how it works? Well, we’ll have to see about that.’

  She ran ahead with Sylvain on her heels, and when he caught her at the door she was helpless with laughter. But as she reached for the handle the door swung open and Zelazny stepped out.

  Allie’s giggles evaporated.

  ‘Miss Sheridan.’ It might have been Saturday but the history teacher still wore a suit and tie, and his voice oozed disapproval. ‘I’m gratified to see that you are taking your morning of detention so seriously.’

  I’ve been arrested by less grumpy men, Allie thought.

  But before she could speak, Sylvain stepped in front of her. ‘It is my fault, Mr Zelazny. I have been trying to cheer Allie up because she was so sad when I found her on the path after her difficult morning of detention. Please do not judge her for my actions.’

  Zelazny marched past them. ‘Detention she richly deserved,’ he muttered.

  ‘Of course,’ Sylvain said, smoothly steering Allie through the entry hall as she struggled not to laugh out loud.

  When they were out of earshot Allie doubled over with laughter, but Sylvain shushed her. ‘Not here, ma belle Allie,’ he whispered. ‘His hearing is exceptional.’

  She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling her own giggles.

  ‘I do not want to see you trapped in detention for an entire week,’ Sylvain said. ‘August is very … sensitive.’

  ‘August?’ she asked.

  ‘Mr Zelazny. Tha
t is his first name.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And now,’ he said, ‘I must leave you. Isabelle will be waiting in the first classroom on the right. Good luck.’

  Bending over he kissed her hand.

  Allie wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

  ‘Bye!’ she said too brightly, before hurrying into the silent and empty classroom wing.

  The first door on the right was closed, and Allie knocked lightly.

  ‘Come in.’ The headmistress’ distinctive voice answered immediately.

  Inside, Allie found Isabelle sitting at the desk, surrounded by stacks of papers. A laptop was open beside her and she closed it before Allie could see anything on the screen, but she looked at its top longingly.

  Modern life still exists.

  ‘Please, have a seat.’ Isabelle gestured at a chair near her. ‘You must excuse me – I’m doing the accounts and it always seems to involve filling a village hall with papers, so I choose to work on it in the spacious environs of a classroom.’

  Pulling off her glasses, she stood up and stretched before moving to the seat next to Allie. ‘How was detention this morning?’

  ‘Fine, I guess,’ Allie shrugged. ‘I mean, it was hard work but it was fine.’

  Isabelle smiled at her kindly. ‘I think August was too stern with you, and I’ve told him so. I wanted you to know that. I didn’t want to undermine him by removing his punishment but I don’t think it was fair.’

  Her words were so unexpected that Allie couldn’t think of anything to say – nobody had ever apologised to her for injustice before. She didn’t even know it was possible.

  ‘Thank you,’ was the best she could come up with, but Isabelle seemed to see on her face how much it meant to her.

  ‘August is known for his strictness, so I don’t want you to feel singled out,’ she continued. ‘He sees to it that a week never goes by without at least a few students working in the gardens or organising the old store rooms. But I’ve asked him to give you more time to adjust before he includes you in his punishment rota again.’

  She studied Allie curiously. ‘And the incident last night – we should talk about that. Sylvain said some sort of wild animal frightened you in the garden?’