Boarding School Girls

by Helen Eve

  ‘Except that I have to become Head Girl?’ I mutter. ‘How does that work?’

  She waves dismissively. ‘It’s a figurehead position. Your committee will do all the work. Don’t you see? This covers all bases.’

  ‘Such as? Sealing my social suicide?’

  She ticks off on her fingers. ‘It gives you a new focus now the wedding is postponed. It shows Jack your serious, responsible side. It totally shows Romy the door. And did you know there are Prefect positions for all of us on the Council? You won’t be on your own!’

  ‘The Starlets on the Student Council?’ I say in disbelief. ‘The Starlets joining the least glamorous committee in world history?’

  ‘That’s in the past. Starting from now, the Head Girl position is Miss Temperley High. Jack will be fighting to get you down the aisle.’ She places a veil on my head.

  ‘Romy really wants this.’

  Expecting Libby to launch once again into her tragic ladder rendition, I stop listening as she reaches into her bag, imagining instead the Starlet table without Romy on it. Free of conflict, free of judgement, free of tension, this would restore us to our former equilibrium.

  And it would make life immeasurably dull.

  ‘Look!’ Libby interrupts, pushing her phone right up to my face.

  I hold the picture upright, upside down, close up and far away. A dull pain in the pit of my stomach intensifies like cramp, and I’m unable to take my eyes off the image of Romy in bed wearing Jack’s T-shirt, with Jack beside her. Her hair is tousled in the way mine always is following particular activities, and make-up – which she never wears – is smeared right across her face as if she’s slept in it. But the worst thing is her expression, contrasting with Jack’s guilty fear, somehow scared and aggressive and triumphant all at the same time. She’s staring into the camera as if she’s looking directly at me.

  ‘How did you get this?’ I grip the arm of my chair to keep me upright, because, once I start falling, I might never stop.

  Libby sighs. ‘If you must know, I went to visit Jack today, thinking only of you. I didn’t want to have to show you this, but I can’t live with you believing that Romy is your friend. We have to get rid of her. Now are you in?’

  ‘I’m in,’ I say numbly.

  Libby smiles. ‘Then Romy’s out. In more ways than you could ever imagine.’

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Romy

  I dawdle outside the cafeteria on the first evening of the summer term. Twice I turn to leave, but extreme, un-Starlet-like hunger propels me inside. Speeding to the hatch, I recklessly throw an assortment of forbidden carbohydrates onto my tray. I swipe my card and hide behind some Fifth Formers as I prepare to scurry back to safety.

  ‘Romy!’ Phoebe’s voice stops me in my tracks. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  Before I can try and beat her to the doorway, Mrs Denbigh steps into my way. ‘I expect you were about to join Phoebe?’ she says. ‘Our agreement still stands this term, you know.’

  ‘Of course,’ I mutter, trudging towards the Starlet table. Siena and Libby are missing and I look around agitatedly in case they’re ready to take pot shots.

  ‘Why do you look so frightened, Romy?’ Cassidy asks with supreme innocence.

  Phoebe looks equally guileless. Only Madison, drooping and pale, avoids my eyes.

  ‘No reason,’ I say carefully. It’s impossible to tell whether they’ve seen the picture of me and Jack. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re just catching up,’ says Cassidy. ‘So much has happened since last week.’

  ‘I hope Siena comes in soon so we can see the ring,’ says Phoebe impatiently. ‘She hasn’t replied to a single message since the ball, and I haven’t even seen a picture.’

  ‘What ring?’ I ask, and they all stare at me.

  ‘Um, Siena’s engagement ring?’ Cassidy says.

  It seems inconceivable that anyone could think that the ball ended successfully for Siena or Jack, but that’s without taking into account Libby’s talent for spinning events to suit her purposes. For reasons I’m sure I’m about to uncover, the Starlets have heard a very different version.

  Everyone’s eyes are trained on Siena’s left hand when she and Libby arrive. Such is the contagious anticipation that even I find myself expecting to see a diamond on her ring finger. Siena lifts her chin before she speaks, as if daring us to disagree with her, and the Starlets look at her bare hand in confusion. Only Libby is unmoved, and she watches her like a prompt from the wings.

  ‘I have an announcement to make,’ Siena says. ‘It concerns Jack.’

  ‘Does the engagement ring have to be resized?’ Cassidy asks sweetly. ‘Is that why you aren’t wearing it?’

  ‘Did you already elope?’ says Phoebe. ‘Is that what you were doing today? Getting married in Capri?’

  ‘Today Siena went to Harvey Nichols,’ Libby reminds her. ‘She was only gone for a few hours.’

  Phoebe mutters something about the time difference, which everyone is kind enough to ignore.

  ‘It’s something else,’ Siena says. ‘Jack and I aren’t engaged.’

  She sits back as the Starlets disintegrate into shock and distress.

  ‘W-why?’ stammers Madison. ‘I don’t understand. Did he…?’ She can’t continue but she mouths the words she daren’t speak aloud.

  Siena bristles in indignation. ‘Did he break up with me? What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Madison says quickly. ‘I’m just trying to understand…’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t be so insulting,’ Siena says. ‘Especially considering your current instability in this group.’

  ‘Didn’t you know that weddings are completely passé, Madison?’ asks Libby pityingly.

  Madison is confused. ‘Siena said this year was about weddings, and weddings alone.’

  ‘I never said that,’ hisses Siena. ‘Are you trying to be deposed, Mads?’

  ‘How’s Jack?’ interjects Cassidy. ‘Is he upset?’

  ‘Devastated.’ Siena smiles brightly. ‘He’s practically bedridden. He threatened to jump off the tower. Some of the Stripes had to talk him off the ledge, and…’

  The Starlets’ attention has wavered somewhat and I twist around to see that they’re all watching the Stripes’ triumphant entry to the cafeteria. They’ve evidently won something, as their cheering and back-slapping and mutual admiration is even more metrosexual than usual. At the centre, Jack is grinning widely, and I see Siena flush. Libby fans her cheeks with a napkin while attention is diverted.

  ‘He looks much better,’ Cassidy says encouragingly. ‘Perhaps he can be taken off suicide watch now.’

  ‘Bravado,’ Siena rallies. ‘He’s crying a river on the inside, but you know he’s a great sufferer in silence. He’ll want to stay strong for his teammates, because they’re very sensitive.’

  Jack rakes a hand through his hair and glances reluctantly around the room. Siena waves, although I notice that Libby practically performs the action for her by lifting and shaking her elbow, and that her smile is more of a snarl. Finally she beckons him over, an impulse which she appears to regret almost immediately.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Libby mutters. ‘You aren’t ready for this.’

  Seeing me watching, she affects a smile almost as uninviting as Siena’s. ‘Jack isn’t ready for this,’ she corrects herself. ‘Jack has only just come off hunger strike.’

  Jack walks towards us with the enthusiasm of someone approaching the gallows, while Siena upholds her rictus grin. ‘Siena?’ he says uncertainly.

  ‘Jack,’ she trills, air-kissing him four times. ‘How wonderful to see you!’

  ‘Um…’ He looks around for help. ‘It’s good to see you too. How have you been?’

  She shakes her head impatiently. ‘The important question is, how have you been? You look much better.’

  Jack takes her hand and tries to address her without Libby interrupting. ‘We need to talk. I’
ve been trying to reach you for days. Are we breaking up because I don’t want to get married? I still love you – I don’t want this to be the end for us.’

  I know she’s wavering, because she doesn’t pull her hand away as he takes a cautious step closer.

  Then Libby slams between them. ‘How was hospital, Jack? The rest and relaxation have obviously done you a power of good.’

  ‘What is this bullshit?’ he says as he shakes her off. ‘What’s wrong with you, Libby? Why can’t you tell the truth?’

  ‘What truth?’ Libby says. ‘The truth that Siena broke your heart?’

  Her tone is quietly dangerous and I expect Jack to surrender, but he turns away from her as the whole cafeteria goes quiet. ‘The real reason we broke up is that Libby—’

  Libby drowns him out. ‘Romy split them up.’ She whips out her phone and taps it triumphantly. ‘She slept with Jack!’

  Jack starts to argue, but before he can say anything coherent I hear phones all around the room ping and beep and chirrup, and I don’t have to be able to see their screens to know that they’re looking at a picture of me lying half dressed and dishevelled in bed with Jack beside me.

  A gasp seems to echo around the whole room.

  ‘How could you, Romy?’ asks Phoebe. ‘After the kindness we’ve shown you?’

  ‘I have an official statement,’ Libby announces, and the room hushes again. ‘Siena regrets this gross betrayal, especially in view of her generosity towards Romy – sometimes at my expense – but she wishes them well in their future endeavours.’

  ‘Do you really, Siena?’ says Cassidy. ‘You’re so nice!’

  ‘Siena is very nice,’ Libby confirms. ‘She understands that Jack was on the rebound, and vulnerable prey to an aggressor who’d been circling him for several years. However, she has concerns regarding his evident … emotional difficulties.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that anyone who likes me must have emotional difficulties?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Libby says soberly. ‘What’s more, anyone who’d make an error as cataclysmic as stealing Jack obviously has a serious lack of moral compass. And that’s why we’re ruling you unfit to be Head Girl.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ I say. ‘Who’s going to take my place? Siena, I suppose?’

  I mean this as a joke, but she and Siena both nod.

  ‘She can’t!’ I raise my voice even though the whole room is staring at me.

  Libby smiles widely. ‘But, you see, she can.’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Siena

  ‘Are you sure that was the right course of action?’ I ask uneasily as we take our seats. The cafeteria has erupted around us, and Romy, after a final glance at me, has left the room at speed.

  ‘What choice did I have?’ asks Libby. ‘Jack was about to make a calamitous announcement. I’m not sure even I could have saved your reputation from the insinuation that you aggressively pursued a proposal from him against his will.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ I wince. ‘I just … maybe we were wrong about Romy and Jack, and now we’ll never know for sure.’

  ‘They didn’t deny it. They’re as guilty as sin. Why are you even thinking about that?’

  ‘Jack told me he didn’t want us to break up. Maybe I should have heard him out.’

  ‘Remember what you’re fighting for,’ she whispers. ‘You owe this to your mother, and you owe it to yourself. If Jack respects you, he’ll propose, and you shouldn’t accept anything less. If he loves you as he says he does, what’s he waiting for?’

  The noise in the room suddenly dies away, and I look up to see that Jack is beside me again. ‘What do you want?’ Libby asks frostily.

  ‘I want to talk to Siena,’ he says. ‘Alone.’

  I stare at the table, because I’ll buckle if I meet his eyes. ‘No.’

  He sits down. ‘Then I’ll tell you right here what a mistake you’re making.’

  ‘You were Siena’s only mistake,’ Libby says.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Siena, please think carefully about who you surround yourself with.’

  ‘Libby is my best friend,’ I say.

  ‘She’s not a friend; she’s a yes man. Instead of running from everyone who disagrees with you, why don’t you stop and consider whether those people might be right?’

  ‘I thought you wanted me to better myself,’ I say.

  ‘Not like this. You don’t need to launch yourself into some Student Council coup. Leave the Head Girl position to Romy, where it belongs.’

  ‘Don’t you believe I’m capable of being Head Girl?’ I’m not sure why this bothers me when only a week ago I’d have been horrified at the mere concept.

  ‘I think you’re capable of a million and one things,’ he says. ‘But misplaced revenge shouldn’t be one of them. I hope you realize that before it’s too late.’

  ‘How dare he?’ Libby says as he walks away.

  ‘He’s wrong, isn’t he?’ I ask. ‘This will work, won’t it?’

  ‘Of course,’ Cassidy says stalwartly. ‘If you’re going to be Head Girl – and we support all your decisions, even unexpected ones – you’ll be the best we’ve ever had.’

  Phoebe and Madison exchange a glance and then nod. ‘We’re on board,’ Phoebe announces. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to us: we have blind faith.’

  ‘Not that it matters what Mads thinks,’ says Libby. ‘I’ll note for the minutes that she’s lost her right to an opinion.’

  ‘Mads has been punished enough,’ says Cassidy. ‘She missed the ball.’

  ‘She hasn’t been punished for giving Siena’s dress to Romy,’ Libby counters.

  ‘Technically it’s my dress,’ argues Madison. ‘I made it.’

  ‘You made it for me,’ I say, ‘which makes it my dress.’

  ‘You said it was the most hideous thing you’d ever seen,’ she protests. ‘You said the pattern looked like a disease from Jack’s Biology textbook.’

  ‘That’s not the point. If Kate Middleton turns down a dress, it doesn’t get given away to the person standing closest.’

  ‘You aren’t Kate Middleton,’ she says. ‘You don’t have a castle, and the one time you danced near Prince William in Boujis, he didn’t seem to notice you.’

  I move on with dignity. ‘I don’t see how we’re going to make this happen, blind faith or not. No one outside the Council cares about the Head Girl position.’

  ‘People might not care yet,’ says Libby. ‘But they will, once we have the right marketing strategy.’

  ‘Marketing strategy?’ I’m annoyed. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Everything needs to be advertised,’ Phoebe agrees. ‘Even products that people already love. Otherwise how would we make choices? We’d never be able to buy anything; we’d die of starvation and exposure and indecision.’

  ‘More important than marketing you is marketing the campaign.’ Libby drowns out Phoebe. ‘You’re thinking backwards. You’re worrying that you don’t fit the Head Girl position, but all we need to do is rebrand it so that it fits you.’

  ‘That sounds impossible,’ I say.

  Libby smiles and the others follow, evidently understanding before I do. ‘Think about the role you were supposed to play this term, and transpose it onto the Elevation ceremony.’

  ‘So I’m a Head Girl – Bride hybrid?’ I ask. ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘Crazy … brilliant…’ Libby considers. ‘There’s no need to decide right away.’

  ‘But the plan will fall apart if Jack thinks I’m in this for the wrong reasons.’

  ‘He’ll only know what we want him to know,’ says Libby. ‘And right now, that’s nothing at all. So let me worry about the details.’

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Romy

  I hear the noise a whole staircase away, but I imagine it’s coming from somewhere else until I open the door to find the hitherto tidy Council room in chaos. The School Rules have been pushed from ta
bles to the floor, to be replaced with streamers, magazine cuttings and sequins, and the Council members themselves have been displaced from their usual seats, crowding at the far end while the Starlets spread themselves across the head of the table.

  ‘Am I interrupting something?’ I ask as I slam down my books.

  ‘No,’ says Siena with a big smile as she moves a pile of magazines one inch to the left and then back again, giving me precisely no more space.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ I stare at the posters, felt-tip pens and glitter festooning the table top. I haven’t seen the Starlets so into arts and crafts since we were thirteen, and they spent a month making a papier mâche model of Tom Cruise for a Cosmo competition. They all took managerial positions as my direct supervisors, making it doubly unfair when it transpired that there were only five places on the winners’ trip to the Dolby Theatre. Not to mention that their conception of papier mâche involved sealing Eric inside a newspaper, where he nearly suffocated.

  ‘We’re getting started on the election campaign.’ Cassidy happily affixes a silver star to her forehead. ‘Do you want to help?’

  ‘Of course Romy doesn’t want to help!’ Phoebe tells her. ‘She’s on the opposing side, Cassidy. That’s like asking Wales for help.’

  ‘Whose election campaign?’ I ask.

  Phoebe sighs in annoyance as Cassidy continues. ‘Siena’s election campaign. We’re working on posters and slogans. What do you think of this: A vote for Siena is a vote for yourself.’

  ‘I think it’s dreadful,’ I say frankly.

  ‘Why?’ Cassidy puzzles. ‘Should it be oneself?’

  ‘Never mind,’ I say. ‘Why is Siena having an election campaign?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ asks Libby. ‘I thought you were the bright one.’

  ‘I suppose I am, even considering the stiff competition –’ I watch Phoebe glue her elbow to her knee – ‘but that doesn’t explain what’s going on, or why you’re so excited about it. Student politics has nothing in common with high-end fashion, you know.’

  ‘We’ve never exactly loved the sound of student politics,’ Phoebe understates clangingly. ‘It’s so … dusty.’ She sends a stray copy of the School Rules hurtling like a missile so that it chips the skirting board. ‘But Siena’s going to change all that.’