by Helen Eve
‘Not now,’ he says.
‘You said you needed me. I want to make you feel better.’
‘But that won’t make me feel better. Can’t you see that hooking up isn’t always the answer to our problems?’
‘What else is there?’
‘There’s love,’ he says. ‘Isn’t there?’
‘That’s the same.’
‘Not always.’ I’ve never known him to be so stubborn. ‘Sometimes love means conversation. Empathy. Support. You were so nice yesterday: what’s changed?’
He looks at the Starlets, who have opened magazine spreads across the table, and gives a short laugh as Romy averts her gaze from us and pretends to study them too.
‘No need to explain,’ he says. ‘I see this isn’t about me at all. You’re just proving a point to Romy.’
‘I’m not,’ I say. ‘I’ve been generous enough to let her sit with us. Doesn’t that show what kind of person I am?’
‘You’re making this about you again. You don’t even care enough to ask how she is!’
I wonder who she is before remembering his mother, but he hasn’t stopped talking for long enough to notice. ‘Just because you don’t care about your family doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t care about mine.’
I’m stung by this. ‘I don’t care about my family?’
‘You don’t give any indication of it. You never take any notice of your sisters, for one thing. Do you even know when their birthdays are?’
I don’t answer this, because my family and birthdays are not a happy combination. My mother flatly refuses to get older, and none of us likes to mention the unhappiness that descended when Syrena fell to earth. ‘I care about my family,’ I tell him, and then I mimic him. ‘Let’s not make this about me.’
‘You make everything about you.’
‘I was joking,’ I tell him.
‘Whereas I was taking our relationship seriously,’ he shoots back. ‘Was there something else you wanted?’
I’ve had enough, football championship or none. I’m pretty sure I can start a rumour about Phoebe that will cause enough of a fight with her boyfriend – Jack’s vice-captain – to take the heat off me. As for Romy, she might look happy right now but I’m sure even she’s smart enough to realize that she won’t get away with this.
He calls me back as I stand up, and I wait for him to apologize. ‘My mum’s going to be okay,’ he says. ‘In case you were wondering.’
‘Of course I was wondering,’ I tell him untruthfully, but he’s already turned away.
Chapter Sixteen
Romy
‘Why were you allowed to come back halfway through the year?’ Siena asks as we walk to the Common Room. Mrs Denbigh has taken to tailgating us at every opportunity, herding us not only into each other’s company, but into ostensibly civil conversation. Right now she’s wedged, beady-eyed, behind a pot plant. ‘Why is your French no better than it was when you left?’
‘Va-t’en,’ I mutter under my breath.
‘What was that?’ she asks.
I smile. ‘My French is still better than yours, apparently.’
Siena veers out of Mrs Denbigh’s vision down a dark corridor leading to the Art block. ‘Do go away!’ she snaps as I follow her. ‘She can’t see us now, can she?’
‘I’m not risking it,’ I say. ‘She could reappear at any time.’
‘She’s not supernatural,’ she says exasperatedly. ‘You could give me ten minutes alone. Or are you hoping I’ll lead you to Jack? Because I should tell you that, whatever problems you falsely perceive us to be having, nothing will ever send him back to you.’
‘I’m glad you remember that I knew him first,’ I say.
‘He never talks about his time with you,’ she says. ‘One would almost think your relationship never took place.’
‘He never talks about his mother with you anymore either,’ I remind her. ‘Perhaps he steers clear of meaningful subjects.’
We’re too busy arguing to notice the approach of our Art teacher Mr Kidd until it’s too late.
‘Merde,’ we say at the same time.
‘We can’t both turn around,’ she mutters. ‘It’s too obvious.’
‘Then let me go,’ I say. Mr Kidd, one of the few teachers who didn’t disown me last year, sent me a monstrous amount of work to hand in on my return. It occurs to me now that missing the deadline isn’t the best way to show my gratitude. ‘Why do you need to avoid him? You’re everyone’s favourite, no matter how bad your work is.’
Mr Kidd’s rolling gait is deceptively fast, and neither of us succeeds in escaping before he’s in front of us. ‘I’m glad I stumbled across you two,’ he says mildly. ‘Although I could have just followed the noise. You missed my lesson yesterday, as I expect you already know.’
Siena opens her mouth to begin an elaborate excuse, but he shakes his head. ‘Save it for next time. You need details of this term’s project. As everyone else now has a partner, it looks as though you two will be working together. I understand from Mrs Denbigh that you will be delighted to do so.’
‘What’s the brief?’ Siena’s voice is tight.
‘Inspiration.’ He sounds pleased with himself. ‘But there’s a twist or two. Firstly, Siena, you must exhibit Romy’s inspiration, and vice versa.’
‘What’s the other twist?’ she asks miserably.
‘You must use Romy’s medium, and she yours. So Romy will work with oil paints, and you, photography.’
‘I always partner Tristan,’ she protests. ‘We share the same light aesthetic, as well as a keen interest in minor Swedish royals. Our project is already planned.’
‘Not this time,’ he says. ‘I was moved to wonder if your intended depiction of the Royal Wedding with you as the bride would be treason. Not that it wouldn’t have been compelling to see Mrs Denbigh as the Duchess of Cornwall.’
‘It’s not treason,’ I tell Siena reassuringly, because Mr Kidd is the only teacher she has any respect for, and she looks stricken at this. ‘It’s sociopathic, but that won’t land you in the Tower. Probably.’
Mr Kidd smiles benignly. ‘I’m expecting something spectacular from you both,’ he says as he departs.
‘You’re taking this very well,’ I comment when he’s gone. ‘I expected you to complain far more loudly.’
‘It’s a fake project,’ she says dismissively. She starts walking at speed, navigating a convoluted route back to the Common Room. ‘Mrs Denbigh put him up to it.’
‘Doesn’t matter, if we still have to do it.’
‘What we don’t have to do is talk about it,’ she says. ‘Especially not now,’ she adds hurriedly as we enter the Common Room to the sight of an overexcited Libby. She’s shaking, her cheeks flushed, and she giggles as she grabs Siena by the wrist and pulls her to the Starlet sofa. Waiting for silence, she casts around a triumphant glance until she has everyone’s full attention.
‘Remember when Jack told you that this would be your most exciting term ever?’ she asks. ‘And you thought—’
‘What of it?’ asks Siena impatiently.
‘He’s got the rock.’ Libby manages to hiss and squeak at the same time.
Siena is at once fully alert. ‘Where is it? How do you know? Are you sure?’
Libby nods. ‘He brought it to football practice by mistake, and Tristan got a good look at it before he left to put it away. He confirms that the diamond is a good size, though smaller than Princess Charlene’s, and of excellent clarity.’
‘How long do you think he’s been carrying it around?’ Siena asks. ‘I’m always diligent about checking his pockets and I’ve never found anything terribly interesting.’
‘It must be a recent thing,’ says Libby, lighting a candle. ‘But why are we speculating when Romy can verify the details for us? She still owes us a fortune-telling session.’
‘I don’t … I can’t…’ No one’s listening. ‘I’m not doing this!’
‘Focus,’ says Libby. �
�Just for once, can’t you do a nice deed for someone deserving?’
I’ve never pitted Jack as the type to propose to Siena before their school careers were over, but the evidence seems pretty indefatigable, and who knows how much his mother’s mishap has upset him. He must want comfort and security at a time like this, and he loves Siena enough to make this eminently possible, if not eminently stupid.
Let them get married, if that’s what they want, I tell myself. Divorce might teach them a valuable lesson.
‘What do you see?’ whispers Cassidy.
As my psychic gift is yet to show itself, I close my eyes and hope for the best. My head fills with blankness instead of Siena, and I play for time by flipping through the other girls instead, fleetingly glimpsing an injection of cash for Libby, a nervous collapse for Cassidy and an academic warning for Phoebe. Conflict is slamming towards Madison, but Libby is talking again before I see more.
‘Hurry up, or I’ll have to tell Mrs Denbigh how uncooperative you’re being. I imagine she’s very close by – we can’t seem to shake her off this term.’
‘I see the tower room,’ I say hurriedly, throwing all semblance of honesty to the winds. ‘I see candles and … roses.’
‘What else?’ breathes Cassidy.
‘I see the school hall,’ I say. ‘It’s a dance.’
‘That’s interesting,’ says Libby. ‘Especially since the Council put a complete embargo on social occasions when you left. Even if they were persuaded to change their minds, I doubt any budget remains following their lunatic library refurbishment.’
‘I’m completely sure.’ I wasn’t aware of this Council policy, but it doesn’t matter. It might actually be best to predict an event so implausible that even Libby won’t try to make it happen. ‘I see a very expensive dance with chandeliers, and glass slippers, and crystals, and roses, and gold crockery, and dancing animals, and…’
I open my eyes to see Tristan hovering nearby with his phone. ‘Why is he filming me?’
‘How else do you expect us to document this?’ asks Libby. ‘Shorthand?’
‘What am I wearing at the dance?’ asks Siena dreamily.
‘A dress?’ I say, running out of steam. ‘Definitely a dress.’
‘Don’t start that nonsense again,’ says Libby. ‘What colour dress? What length?’
‘This is silly,’ says Madison. ‘It’s no fun if Romy tells us everything beforehand. Some things have to evolve.’
I smile gratefully. ‘Mads made Siena’s dress,’ I say as she smiles back. ‘And it’s beautiful. I know that much.’
‘This discussion is a waste of time,’ says Phoebe. ‘We’ve never had a dance like that, and we’re not likely to have. I’m not even sure which animals know how to dance properly.’
‘We’ll see,’ says Siena. ‘You’ve forgotten that I’m on the Council now, and I decide on our events. All our events.’
‘You’re the Council’s newest, least important member,’ I remind her. ‘What makes you think you can push this through?’
She looks me right in the eye. ‘No one gets the better of me. Not you, not Mrs Denbigh, and not the Council. By the end of term, no one will ever doubt that again.’
Chapter Seventeen
Siena
I’m so happy about the emergence of the ring that I make a special effort to support Jack’s big game. There’s no sense in enduring the match itself, because it will outlast my attention span and there’s a risk of being hit by a ball, but I pass the playing field on my return from the hairdresser just before it’s due to end. It goes without saying that the Starlets are absent, but a huge crowd is in attendance nonetheless.
Students are supposed to attend all home matches, but support has been desultory since the Stripes began their losing streak. Today almost the entire school is here, with the Council a stalwart presence. They’re wearing team colours, and some have even dyed their hair into red stripes. They’re waving banners predicting an unlikely victory, with Romy’s messy handwriting evident on each as if she’s marking territory.
‘Siena!’ calls Avery enthusiastically. ‘Come here!’
I give her a wave and a regretful shake of the head as I hurry onwards, because protecting my hair from drizzle so that I look my best in the post-match photographs is far more supportive, long-term, than being near the pitch. However, by now the entire Council is shouting at me, and making so much noise that I have no choice but to turn back towards them.
‘It’s a draw so far!’ says Avery happily. ‘It’s their best match in ages. All this support must have boosted morale.’
‘Drawing doesn’t sound very good,’ I say. ‘Isn’t that the same as losing?’
Ambrose starts to explain something about points, and why drawing and losing are two different concepts. I worry this will take a long time, but, just as I start to edge away again, the whistle blows.
‘It’s a corner kick!’ says Nicole breathlessly. She and Bethany have painted matching stripes across their cheeks and look even more wretched than usual. ‘Jack’s taking it!’
‘Would you like to borrow my scarf, Siena?’ asks Avery. ‘You seem cold.’
Her striped scarf is unappealing, and I’m glad I’ve had a few shots of vodka, which has the same warming effect as unflatteringly bulky outerwear. But just then Jack looks up and sees me. His expression, of incredulity turning to happiness, is so unexpected that I take the scarf Avery proffers and drape it around my neck. The manmade fibres feel very unpleasant, but I try to put that aside as he takes the kick, and not to imagine that acrylic is tightening around my windpipe like a serpent. There’s a lot of jostling, and so I miss the exact movements of both Jack and the ball, but judging by the frenzied reaction I guess it ends up where it’s supposed to be, and then the game appears to be over.
‘It’s amazing to have you with us!’ Avery says. ‘We’ve never seen you here before.’
‘How funny,’ I say. ‘I suppose I’m not usually in the cheap seats.’
‘Do you like football?’ she asks.
‘I love it,’ I say, preparing to leave. ‘All that mud, and men falling everywhere and congratulating each other … What’s not to enjoy?’
As the Stripes finish their victory huddle and head towards us, I prise Avery’s Go Stripes Go banner from her hand, intending to shield myself from their muddy clothes.
‘You came!’ Jack says. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Of course I came,’ I say. ‘Someone had to coordinate the Council into some kind of order. You should have seen the state they were in before I took over.’
‘You mean…’ He looks in amazement at the Council’s painted faces, banners and scarves. ‘Do you mean you put this support together?’
‘That depends,’ I say cautiously. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Do I…’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Siena, this support won us the match!’
I smile modestly. ‘Then yes, I was responsible for this … circus. When I joined the Student Council I was determined to make a difference, and restoring morale to our talented but troubled football team seemed the perfect place to start.’
‘I feel as if … as if this is a twilight zone,’ he says, sounding dazed. ‘I thought you said you’d joined the Student Council.’
‘I’m extremely passionate about student politics,’ I explain, showing him the Council badge I hide under a lapel for obvious reasons. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t know that.’
‘To think…’ He sounds ashamed. ‘I didn’t even expect you to turn up today! I’m so sorry for underestimating you.’
Romy is furious, and some of the Council look a bit concerned, as if she should be getting some credit, but luckily the other Stripes descend on us at this point.
‘Siena rallied the whole school in support!’ Jack tells them. ‘She won us the game!’
‘I suppose I did,’ I acknowledge as they all break into applause. Romy must have worked hard to persuade so many people to come alon
g in such cold weather, but I was solely responsible for the winning goal, so everything he’s saying is true. Not to mention that my help is more newsworthy than Romy’s, who has nothing better to do with her time.
‘So why have you joined the Council?’ he asks, slinging an arm around me as we head back to school.
‘I’ve been somewhat selfish,’ I say, because he deserves to think he’s right for once. ‘Neglecting those less fortunate. This helps me give back to my community and work towards a common goal; enjoy my favourite sport and the great outdoors.’
‘You hate football,’ Romy hisses as she appears at my right ear.
‘Au contraire,’ I say. ‘The football field is where Jack and I first became acquainted, so it holds special memories.’
‘In that case, why did no one see you before the final moments of the match? Where were you for the first eighty-nine minutes?’
‘There was much to coordinate,’ I explain. ‘I was in the wings, working tirelessly backstage for the stars up front. After all, today wasn’t about me.’
‘So you didn’t get to see most of the game?’ Jack says. ‘I can’t believe I called you selfish. You even joined the Council so you could support me! Can you forgive me?’
‘Let’s never speak of it,’ I say as I lead him away from Romy.
‘My mum’s doing a lot—’
‘Let’s never speak of it,’ I say more forcefully. ‘Let’s concentrate on the living.’
He looks a bit upset, so I try again. ‘I mean, the able-bodied. Let’s concentrate on us.’
The Common Room is packed by the time we arrive. The Starlets are always present at this part of proceedings, and I wrench off my scarf too late.
‘What on earth is that?’ says Libby in revulsion. ‘It looks like some kind of noose.’
I kick it blithely along the floor. ‘It pays to keep your man happy.’
‘It certainly does,’ Phoebe says as Jack arrives with a bottle of Cristal. ‘Siena, why is everyone saying you won the football championship?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I shrug. ‘Perhaps in the way I win every game, just by existing.’