Boys of King Academy

by Rose, Louise

  “Yeah, sorry, Lucas,” says Declan. “I should have known these guys would get all bent out of shape.”

  “So you two know each other?” I ask.

  “No.” Declan shakes his head. “We met just as he was storming off. I saw him riding round King Town earlier today and I knew he could handle a bike. I figured it was only fair to give him a chance to show us what he could do.”

  “I would have won if it wasn’t for these two teaming up on me.” Lucas gives a nod of respect. “But that’s fine. I have a few ideas for next time. You won’t be able to pull the same trick twice.”

  “We’ll see.” Romy laughs. “We’ll see.”

  “Anyway,” says Archer. “I think it’s time to celebrate my victory. Who’s up for a drink or two?” He holds up the wad of cash he’d just won. “You’re welcome to join us, Lucas. You can drown your sorrows.”

  “Thanks for the offer, mate, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” Lucas says. “Maybe next time–but it’ll be me buying the drinks.”

  “In your dreams,” Archer jeers as Lucas walks away.

  “He’s an interesting chap, that one,” Declan says. “Have any of you seen him before?”

  “No.”

  “Nope.”

  “I thought everyone went to the Academy,” I say. “Even if he’s too old for school, I would have thought one of you would have recognised him from the years above you. Wonder where he comes from, then?”

  “Not everyone can afford Academy fees,” Declan tells me. “And only the most academically gifted get scholarships. There’s a state school on the other side of town. He must have gone there.”

  “Still, it’s weird he’s never been in a race before, don’t you think?” I persist.

  “Maybe it’s taken him this long to save up for a bike worth riding,” Romy suggests. “If his family doesn’t have the money for the Academy, it’s not likely they’d have enough to buy a halfway decent bike. But why are you so bothered by someone who isn’t part of a House, Ivy? He’s not worth your energy.”

  “I guess.” I frown a little. There is something about Lucas that is bugging me, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  “Enough about him. Are you guys coming to celebrate or am I drinking alone?”

  Archer waves his money at us and this time we follow him. Romy is right. Lucas isn’t worth stressing over. It isn’t as though I’m likely to see him again anytime soon.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Just a little higher…”

  I teeter at the top of a ladder. Milly stands on the ground, looking up at me as she gives instructions for pinning the banner straight.

  “I don’t think I can go much higher, Mills. Not without falling.”

  “There! That’s perfect.”

  I push the pin in and climb back down the ladder, relieved I finally got it where Milly wanted. The girl is a serious perfectionist!

  “Don’t you think the hall looks beautiful?” she sighs. “The parents are going to be so impressed.”

  I gaze around at the school’s main hall. Balloon arches and wreaths in the purple and yellow school colours are strung at regular intervals, while banners proudly declare that this is the 53rd annual charity fundraiser. This year we are raising money to support a local donkey shelter which needs to rebuild its stables after arsonists have done some serious damage to the old buildings. I have a feeling that with the general attitude of one-upmanship that pervaded the Houses, by the time we were done, the shelter wouldn’t just have a new stable. They’d be able to buy acres of fields, soft, warm blankets, and all the carrots a donkey could get.

  The school would also keep 25% of anything raised for “essential works.” You’d think with the amount they charged in fees they would already have more than enough to pay for everything, but apparently not.

  “You’ve done a really good job,” I tell her. “You should be an interior designer after you leave the Academy.”

  “You really think so?” Milly beams with pride.

  “Don’t listen to her, Millicent,” says Ally, overhearing our conversation. “The only reason you got to decorate the hall is because no one else wanted the job. A toddler could have done a better job than you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re just jealous,” I retort. “You wish you had Milly’s eye for design.”

  “When people see my performance at the show, nobody’s going to be talking about a few balloons on the walls,” Ally says. “They’ll all be stunned by how good I am.”

  “Because a few slut drops are just so impressive.” I yawn. “You keep telling yourself how great you are, Ally. Nobody else is going to do it, that’s for sure.”

  Ally sniffs, but she doesn’t have a snappy comeback, so she walks off.

  “Are you all ready for the show?” Milly asks. “I hear you and Declan are going to do a duet.”

  “Yeah, it’s one of our A level pieces. Mr Metcalf insisted we do it. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Good. I’m really looking forward to hearing you sing. I’ve never seen you perform.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much. It’s nothing special.”

  “Don’t say that.” Milly lightly raps the back of her hand against my arm. “I know you’re an amazing songwriter. Everyone’s going to love you.”

  “Maybe. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be singing at this fundraiser.”

  “Why not?”

  “My father is going to be sitting right at the front,” I tell her. “He’s going to be boasting to everyone that I’m his little girl and it’s thanks to him that I’m as good as I am. My music is something that belongs to me, not him. I hate the thought that he’s going to attempt to take credit for it. I tell you something, once I marry Romy, I’m going to take his name and then House Archaic will be gone forever.”

  Milly gasps. “You don’t mean that!”

  “Oh yes I do.” I nod grimly. “It’s the only way I can hurt my father the way he deserves. You all keep telling me how ruthless the Houses are. Well, I’m my father’s daughter and I’m going to make darned sure he regrets everything he’s done, including the way he treated my mother. By the time I’m done with him, he’s going to wish he’d left me with Katy and adopted someone else to continue the family line.”

  “Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you!” Milly laughs.

  I don’t like to mention the way she’d treated me when our Houses declared war on each other. Milly seemed to only remember things when they were convenient for her. I supposed that if I had grown up in this messed up place, I’d probably develop a selective memory too.

  Mr Pilkington came up to stand behind us. “Excellent work, girls,” he says. “I think your parents will be very impressed with what you’ve done. Impressed enough to get out their cheque books and donate generously. Yes, you’ve done a very good job indeed.”

  “Thanks, Mr Pilkington.” Milly beams. “I might not be as talented as some people, but I like to think I can still contribute.” She cast a proud glance my way.

  “I understand you’re helping out with the front of house as well, Milly?” he asks.

  She nods.

  “Wonderful! That’s just the kind of school spirit I like to see. Remember to sell as many raffle tickets as you can. Every little bit helps!”

  He strides off, leaving Milly and me alone again.

  “I guess I’d better go and tune my guitar,” I say. “It’s not long before the show’s due to start.”

  “Okay. I need to go and sit out front anyway,” Milly says. “Parents will start to arrive soon so I need to make sure the complimentary glasses of champagne are ready and waiting. Catch you later!”

  She wiggles her fingers at me to say goodbye and heads off to take her place checking tickets. I turn and walk up the little steps to the stage. Heading behind the curtains, I go offstage and out to the corridors that lead to the music room where I’d left my guitar.

  The room is empty, which is just what
I need to clear my head. Helping Milly allowed me to forget my nerves for a while, but what I hadn't told her is that I suffered from crippling stage fright. While I’d been telling the truth when I said I didn't want to give my father anything to boast about, the real reason why I didn’t want to perform is that I hated singing in front of an audience. I know it’s something I have to get over, but I’d always preferred recording my material or performing it on YouTube. Online, potentially millions might discover me, but from a performance perspective it is just me on my own in a room with a camera. I could pretend nobody would ever see me and to be fair, so far, not many people have. Tonight, I am going to be singing in front of hundreds of strangers and the thought makes me want to hurl.

  Although I haven't seen him yet today, Declan’s guitar case is propped up next to mine. Seeing it there gives me a little reassurance I’m not going to be alone on stage.

  I take my guitar out of its case and tune it. Once it’s ready, I strum a few chords to make sure it is properly in tune. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the instrument’s rich tone. There is something to be said for playing a good quality guitar.

  I make a couple small adjustments and then pick out one of my favourite classical pieces. Katy insisted I take a few lessons once she saw how keen I was of music. I didn’t last long. I much preferred playing my own material, and figuring out for myself how my favourite musicians did what they did. There are a few pieces I learned that I really love, and they were a good warm up before I start playing.

  I close my eyes, enjoying the sound I’m making as my fingers dance over the strings. When I’m done, I am surprised by the sound of someone clapping. I look up to see Romy standing in the doorway.

  “How long have you been listening?” I ask.

  “I’ve been here a while,” Romy says. “I saw you going into the practice room so I followed. I know you need time to get yourself together before a performance, so I figured I’d let you have a few moments alone before I came to wish you luck. Not that you’re going to need it. I know how hard you’ve been practising. You’re going to steal the show.”

  “I’m not performing on my own,” I remind him. “Declan and I are doing a duet, remember?”

  “No one’s going to be listening to him.” Romy waves away the mention of my music partner. “All eyes–and ears–are going to be on you. I’m so proud to be able to call you my fiancée. I’m a lucky man to have someone as talented as you.”

  He comes over and kisses me, my guitar forcing him to lean forward awkwardly to reach me where I’m sitting.

  “This isn’t going to work.”He took my guitar out of my hands and put it to one side.

  “That’s better.” He cups my face in his hands and kisses me. His tongue flicks between my lips and I instinctively open my legs to let him get closer.

  I put my arms around him and hold him to me. He runs his hand over my hair tenderly. It’s one of those sweet romantic gestures that makes me think he really does have feelings for me and isn’t just going through the motions for the sake of a political marriage.

  “A-hem.”

  We’re interrupted by someone coughing. We break apart and I glance over to see Declan standing in the doorway. I blush at being caught like this. We were in the room where Declan and I had been intimate and I still felt guilty. Although not guilty enough to tell Romy what happened…

  “Sorry to come between you two lovebirds,” he says. “But Ivy and I need to start getting ready for the show.”

  “Of course.” Romy kisses me one last time as if to mark his territory.

  “Be as awesome as you always are,” he whispers to me before leaving to take his seat out front with his family. Performance isn’t his thing.

  “Do you want to run through our song one more time?” Declan asks.

  “Nah.” I shake my head. “We’ve practised it enough and I feel too sick to sing right now.”

  “Are you okay?” Declan comes to my side and rubs my back, an anxious look on his face.

  “I just get really bad stage fright.”

  “Well, you know what they say. If you feel nervous, imagine--”

  “Yeah, yeah. Imagine everyone in their underwear. But then I’m singing in front of a bunch of out of shape people wearing ugly underwear. It doesn’t help, Declan. It doesn’t help!”

  “Okay, you got me.” Declan laughs.

  “I’ll be fine once I get out on stage,” I state. “It’s just getting out there in the first place that’s the problem.”

  “I’ll be right by your side every step of the way,” Declan says. “Come on. Let’s go and sneak up to the back of the balcony. I want to see Ally’s dance. I hear it’s really bad!”

  I laugh and follow him out to the corridor and up the stairs which leads to the balcony, giving us a good view over the entire hall. We creep around the back row of seats to stand in the middle where we can see everything.

  My stomach lurches when I see just how many people are crammed into the hall. I’ve never sang in front of such a large audience, and the thought terrifies me. What if I forget the words? What if I forget the chords? What if I forget the words and the chords? I’d die of embarrassment. I’d never be able to show my face in school again.

  Sensing my thoughts, Declan grabs hold of my hand and squeezes it. “You’re going to crush it,” he whispers as the lights dim and a spotlight tracks Mr Pilkington’s progress across the stage to a microphone stand ready and waiting for him.

  “Good evening, everyone,” he says. “And can I say how delighted I am to welcome so many of you here to our annual Academy fundraiser. I hope you’ve all brought your cheque books!”

  Everyone laughs at the mere notion they wouldn’t be ready to show off their wealth by splashing it about.

  “As you are aware, this year’s charity is the King Town Donkey Sanctuary which is so cruelly targeted by thugs. I hope they’ll be apprehended very soon, but in the meantime, we can put a smile back on those donkey’s faces by building them a brand-new luxury stable. Now, I know you don’t want to hear me droning on all evening, so I’m going to make way for our very first act, the Ally Alligators!”

  The audience bursts into applause as the curtains pull back to reveal a group of four girls all wearing skin tight leotards with an alligator print on them. Ally has been boasting about how her father is paying to get a top body painter to work with them and they’d certainly been worth their money because the leotards flowed seamlessly from material to flesh, making it look like they’d been transformed into an alligator/human hybrid.

  It is a shame the dance doesn’t match up to the quality of the costume. Ever see any of the dances Gina did in Brooklyn Nine Nine? She is a first-class professional in comparison to this lot. Ally has been going on about how much rehearsal they’d been doing, but they are all over the place. When she goes left, everyone else goes right. At one point, she trips and knocks over one of the other dancers. A complete mess.

  But Ally seems happy with it, running over to the mic to yell, “Donate, everyone!”

  “If that’s the standard we’re up against, maybe I really don’t have anything to worry about,” I murmur to Declan.

  “There’s a reason Mr Metcalf wanted us to perform,” he replies. “I told you we’d be fine.”

  We stay there for the first half, watching comedians, magicians, singers, dancers, and even someone who’d brought their toy poodle along to do tricks. Unfortunately, the dog seems more interested in licking something off the stage floor than doing what it is told, but it’s so cute that nobody cared.

  By the time the curtain comes down for the interval, I lose my nerve, but as the lights come up, they flood back with a vengeance. It isn’t long before it will be our turn to take the stage.

  From my vantage point up high, I see my father get up from his seat in the front row and go over to talk to Romy’s family. They all seem to be smiling and laughing. Whatever they are talking about, the discussion seems to be going w
ell.

  “Come on, Ivy. Let’s go and get a glass of Dutch courage.”

  Declan takes my hand, and I let him. It feels right, even though it might raise a few eyebrows.

  He skilfully works his way through the crowd and down to the dining hall where refreshments are being served. Ignoring the queue, he goes around the side and behind a long table laid out with glasses. Grabbing a couple and a bottle of wine, he nods at the girl serving, who smiles back, before leading the way back to the music room where I’d left my guitar.

  “Here you go.” Declan unscrews the wine and pours me a small glass.

  “Is that all?” I raise an eyebrow. “I think I might need a bit more than that.”

  “Sorry, Ivy. That’s all you’re getting,” Declan says. “Too much alcohol before a performance can screw your vocal chords. Besides, we need to save the rest to celebrate with afterwards. We’re going to be amazing, you know. There’s a reason we’ve been scheduled to close the show.”

  “Yeah. It’s to make sure I’m as nervous as possible,” I joke.

  “Stop putting yourself down,” says Declan. “You’re an amazing performer. Channel those nerves into your music. People will think the little wobble in your voice is vibrato! Besides, you saw the standard of the other performances. We could crash and burn and they’ll still be impressed. And we’re not going to crash and burn.”

  “We’ll see.” I take a sip of my wine. I can tell it’s expensive, not just a standard supermarket plonk. If Pilkington is serious about raising money, I’d think he’d economise on things like this. A lot of donkey blankets could have been bought for the price of this wine.

  This is how the other half lives.

  The muffled sound of cheers filters through the walls. The second half of the show is starting.

  I take a large swig of wine to drown out the butterflies dancing around in my stomach.

  “Take it easy, Ivy!” warns Declan. “I don’t want to have to carry you onstage.”