London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  I’ve never felt this mad or this hurt before.

  “I don’t know what to say. It’s happened before—but never this bad. His mum knows. Which only leaves calling the police. My parents would say it’s a private matter.”

  “They’re wrong.”

  “What’s right? Getting Harry kicked out of his house? He has two more years to go, Mallory. And then he’s free.”

  “He’s never going to be free, Noah. We both know that.” I shake my head, remembering what Harry said at lunch.

  “We just need to support him—whatever that means.”

  I push my covers down, wanting to be free of them.

  Free from this weight.

  I let my arm hang off the bed, needing to be closer to Noah. Needing the comfort. He laces his fingers through mine for the second time tonight. And the moment he does it, I feel more tears fall from my eyes.

  Not because I’m heartbroken for Harry or upset at the situation, but because I’m mad at myself for feeling relief when I’m with Noah.

  “Good night, Mallory,” he says, not letting go of my hand.

  Saturday, September 28th

  Today’s a new day.

  10:45am

  “I just can’t believe how bad Harry was last night,” I say, stretching out my legs in front of the Williams’ house.

  It’s already nearly eleven, and Noah wants to get in a quick run to loosen up his legs before his match this afternoon.

  “I know,” he admits, dropping his fingers to the ground in front of him, stretching out his back.

  “I was scared for him, Noah.”

  Noah stops stretching, standing back upright, inching closer to me. A half-hearted smile comes to his face, and he gives my shoulder a gentle push.

  “You were there for him, too, Mallory. He needed us even if it didn’t seem like it. Trust me, he will be back to normal today.”

  Noah shifts his head, urging me to start jogging. I push my feet against the ground and keep his pace as he takes off.

  “I don’t know how he could just go back to normal or why that would even be a good thing,” I argue.

  “It’s not up to us. My mum knows, and so does Dad. I’m sure when Harry wakes up and is sober, they’re going to help him decide what to do.”

  His statement eases my nerves.

  I feel relieved.

  But then I feel bad that I do. Bad for feeling grateful that it falls on Helen, Gene, and Harry to decide what to do. To figure out what is best for Harry. I can’t make that decision, and I shouldn’t try to, but I am going to make sure that something is done about it.

  “All we can do is be there for him,” Noah says. And it seems like he’s saying it to convince himself as much as he is me.

  “You’re right,” I reply, wanting more than anything to believe him.

  I run harder, hoping for my legs to hurt. For my lungs to burn. I want to feel something so I can stop thinking about last night. I want to be distracted.

  Noah bumps into me with his hip, apparently reading my mind. “Come on. Let’s pick up the pace.”

  We run faster, our legs pounding into the pavement.

  We run through the neighborhood then make our way to the park.

  And finally my mind goes free.

  When I turn to look at Noah, I can’t help but grin at him.

  I think we both needed this run more than we’d care to admit.

  By the time we get back to the house, I’m completely out of breath. My entire chest is burning, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

  “That was amazing.” I grin, trying to steady my breathing.

  Noah has a huge smile on his face. “There isn’t much that a run through the park can’t fix,” he replies, putting his hands on his knees, hunching over on the porch. His back falls and rises quickly before steadying.

  “I thought the British only felt that way about tea. Nothing that a nice cup of tea can’t cure,” I tease, trying to imitate his accent.

  Noah wrinkles his nose at me.

  When we finally get cooled down, we go into the house. My eyes scan the living room, looking for Gene in his usual spot by the fireplace, but I find his chair empty.

  Instead, I see Helen.

  “I thought I heard you two up this morning,” she says, taking a sip of coffee.

  Noah sits on the edge of the couch and gives his mom a smile. “Thought a run would be good before the match. Get a little stress out.”

  Helen nods slowly, looking like she still isn’t awake. She takes refuge in the steam rising from her coffee cup, letting it warm her face.

  “The boys aren’t up yet,” she tells us, “though I didn’t expect anything different. It was a long night for everyone.”

  And I have to agree with her there. It really was.

  Her eyes are puffy, the same as Noah’s and mine this morning. Even though I slept fine once I fell asleep, I woke up tired, my stomach still tied in knots about what Harry should do.

  “Especially for you two,” she adds, eyeing us over her coffee cup before taking another sip. “But anywho, it is a new day, and your father ran out to get some of those fancy bagels. The ones with the various toppings.” Helen smiles. “Why don’t you shower in my room, Noah, and then come down for breakfast? I don’t want anything disturbing them. You’ll be quieter there. And I got your uniform and cleats out last night. Your father will leave for the match with you, and I’ll pop along once I’ve gotten a chance to sort through things with Harry.”

  Noah grins, shaking his head and beaming at her thoughtfulness. “Always thinking of everything, Mum.”

  Helen’s cheeks grow pink.

  “Yes, thank you,” I add, wanting her to know that we truly mean it.

  She really has thought of everything.

  Noah looks at me. “Yeah, Mallory is right. Thank you, Mum, for helping handle this.”

  Noah walks over and places a kiss on his mom’s cheek. Helen nods at him. And I can’t help but watch her. She looks at Noah with love. The way a parent should look at their child. And just like that, my mind goes back to Harry.

  “I’ll be quick,” Noah says before going upstairs.

  “Sounds good. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee.”

  I go into the kitchen and get a glass of water, downing it first, and then find the French press on the counter with coffee already in it. I get out a coffee cup, taking in the scent as I pour myself a cup, then join Helen again on the couch.

  “Sorry if I stink.” I laugh, tucking my legs under me and taking a sip from my steaming cup.

  “You’re no worse than Noah. You should get a whiff of him after his match.” She wrinkles her nose, wafting the air in front of her with dramatic effect.

  “I can’t imagine.” I giggle.

  And for the second time today, I feel a little lighter. Maybe it’s something in the Williams’ home, but they—Helen, Noah, and even Gene—have the ability to make me feel better.

  I set my cup on a side table and decide to confide in her. “Last night was horrible.” I hope she can handle another set of problems because I’m about to give her some of mine, and I really need a mom to talk to.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?” she says, putting her coffee down and reaching out to place her hand on mine.

  I feel a tear escape at her touch.

  “Oh,” she coos, patting my hand.

  Her eyes are like Noah’s, and they make it easy for me to talk to her.

  “I’ve never seen someone so broken,” I finally get out. “And I like Harry. I like Harry a lot. But my presence there, it did nothing.” I shake my head, wishing that things had been different.

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Helen objects.

  “Sure, I made myself useful. I iced his eye and sat with him. But it was like Harry wasn’t looking at me. He was looking through me. I guess I’d expected a reaction when he saw me. I’d thought I could make it better and provide him with comfort. But he barely noticed me the
re.” My stomach twists at my words as I think about the night before. “And I feel so selfish for saying that.” I wipe at my eyes.

  Helen pushes the hair off my face, her fingers tucking a few strands behind my ear. “You have to give him a break, sweetie. He wasn’t in a state last night in which his feelings for you should be judged.”

  “I know, but what makes it worse is the reaction I was hoping for … well, he had that when he saw Olivia.” I feel myself shudder and suck in a breath, realizing I have to pull myself together.

  I see now that Noah was right. He was right all along. They share something that I can’t compete with. They share a history.

  “Just give him time,” Helen says, soothing me. “Sometimes, we can seek comfort in the familiar. It doesn’t necessarily mean that’s what we want or need though.”

  Helen pulls me into a hug. I soak it in.

  “Thank you,” I say, pulling back, doing my best to smile.

  “It isn’t a bother, dear,” Helen says, wiping away the last tear on my cheek. “Now, why don’t you run upstairs? Go shower off before Gene gets back with breakfast, so you can eat, feeling clean and refreshed.”

  I notice her emphasis on the word refreshed, and I realize she hopes the shower will help wash away my feelings. My anger. My heartbreak.

  “Well, more so lunch,” she corrects, glancing over at the clock before letting out a chuckle. “It’s nearly noon!”

  I make sure I’m quiet as I go up the stairs. I meet Noah in the hallway, coming from his parents’ room. He’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts. His brown hair is darker when wet, and he has it pushed over to one side.

  He stops, holding up his finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet.

  Like I need to be told.

  I roll my eyes at him and then move silently down the hallway, stopping when I hear a loud snore coming from Noah’s room. I cover my mouth, trying to keep from laughing. Noah and I rush back into the master bedroom.

  “Did you hear that?” I whisper, a grin forming on my face.

  I’m flooded with relief and happiness. Because, at least for now, Harry and Mohammad are safe and, apparently, soundly asleep.

  “Harry’s the loudest snorer.” Noah laughs, his eyes sparkling. I notice he smells like shower gel. “I remember the first time he slept over, I thought he was going to wake the whole house.”

  “I can’t remember hearing him snore.” I laugh, thinking to the night when I slept over at Harry’s house.

  Noah’s smile fades. I look down, slightly embarrassed.

  “Right. So, here’s the shower,” he says, pointing into the bathroom. He goes to a closet and grabs a freshly folded towel. “And your towel.”

  “I was half-expecting a used one off the floor,” I tease, raising my eyebrows at him.

  His eyes sparkle. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  He turns to the shower, showing me the handle. “This is on and off,” he says, turning the knob, “and this one is the temperature.”

  I set the towel down on the counter and look around, taking in Helen and Gene’s bathroom. It’s not much bigger than the one Noah and I share, but Helen has perfumes and creams spread out alongside the sink, almost making it feel smaller.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Noah is standing there awkwardly, looking like he’s waiting for me to say something.

  “So … I think I’ll shower now.” I tilt my head at him, wondering why he’s being so weird.

  “Of course.” He laughs, that one eye creasing at the corner with his smile. He shuts the door, leaving me alone.

  I try to be quick, not wanting to hog their bathroom. Unlike someone I know. I scrub at my scalp, making sure all the shampoo and conditioner are washed out.

  And then I think about what Helen said.

  About washing away last night. I imagine all my emotions washing down the drain with the water.

  The anger and jealousy I felt.

  The sadness and heartbreak.

  I let it all go.

  I step out of the shower and wrap a fluffy towel around my chest. It smells of lavender, and I stop to inhale the scent.

  Today’s a new day.

  I smile at myself in the mirror before running quickly down the hall and to my room. I sit down at the desk, brushing through my hair in front of the mirror. Then I decide I better get dressed and sort through my clothes.

  What am I even supposed to wear to a soccer—I mean, football—match?

  The weather isn’t cold, but it isn’t warm either. I figure everyone will be in school colors, but that limits me to the stuff I bought at the school shop that I wear as part of my uniform.

  No, thanks.

  I grab a tee and throw on Noah’s sweatpants, deciding to ask Helen or Noah what I should wear.

  I open my door, hearing voices coming from downstairs, and follow the sound.

  “Hey,” I say, finding Noah and Helen sitting at the kitchen table.

  Noah looks me over, his eyes dwelling on his sweats. Helen barely looks up. She’s sipping on another cup of coffee.

  Noah’s eyes are still glued to me, so I take the chair next to him at the table, hoping he’ll stop staring.

  “I’m trying to figure out what I should to wear to the game,” I say.

  “Anything with the school colors,” Helen says. “A jumper would be ideal. It looks like it’s going to be a cool day.”

  I scrunch my nose up, knowing the closest thing I have to that is a uniform cardigan to go over my button-down.

  “I’m sure Noah has something he can lend you,” Helen says, reading my face. “I’d tell you to dig through Mia’s things, but she was never one for school spirit.”

  “All right,” I say, feeling grateful. I’m glad she was the one to bring it up and that I didn’t have to ask to borrow something from Noah. Again.

  “No worries,” Noah replies, his eyes still on my legs.

  I scoot in, moving closer to the table, knowing he can’t look at my legs if they’re hidden. I’m suddenly regretting wearing his pants, but they are so comfy.

  “Here we are,” Gene says, coming into the kitchen. His nose is tinted pink, his cheeks rosy.

  Helen was right; it must be chilly out. He sets a bag full of food on the table and pulls out paper containers.

  “Wow,” I say, watching as he opens them, revealing various types of bagels. “This looks amazing.”

  Gene spreads them out across the table, giving the four of us plates. Noah and I reach for the same one, and I have to fight him off for it. I smile, putting the bagel on my plate, feeling accomplished.

  I take a bite, the cream cheese, honey, and strawberry mixing in my mouth.

  And it was a good choice—definitely worth the fight—because it’s delicious.

  “This is a nice treat,” Gene admits, tasting one with chives on top.

  “Thank you for picking it up.” Helen smiles at him.

  Gene pushes his glasses farther up on his nose, flushing. I look over at Noah, who is also admiring his parents’ moment. It’s nice to see a love that isn’t in your face. I haven’t seen Gene openly flirt with Helen or confess his love with loud words and big gestures, but it doesn’t mean he loves her any less.

  I grin at Noah, but he just rolls his eyes.

  “I’ve gotten four more, so hopefully, that’s enough for the boys,” Gene says, finishing his bagel.

  “That should be plenty,” Noah replies, wiping his mouth. “Thanks for getting them, Dad.”

  “Is this a match-day tradition?” I ask, wondering if it’s something they do every game day.

  “It might have to become one,” Helen says, grabbing another piece. “Normally, we either have a big breakfast together or go out. But one of my friends recommended this bagel shop, so I thought it might be nice to give something new a try.”

  “It was so good.” I make a mental note of the store’s name.

  “Right,” Gene says, checking his watch, “we’d better head th
at way. Mallory, Helen said you’d be leaving for the match with us as well?”

  “Yeah. I’ll just go get changed real quick.”

  I take my plate to the sink and rinse it off and then do the same with Helen and Gene’s, washing them before putting them on the drying rack.

  “Thank you,” Gene says, nodding at me while Helen just coos.

  “I see the special treatment ends with my parents,” Noah whispers at my side, moving next to me in front of the sink.

  “Well, if you had given me a minute, I would have gotten yours too.”

  I run up to my room and throw on jeans and sneakers. I pull on a white long-sleeved tee before hurrying back downstairs.

  Gene and Noah are ready to go. Noah tosses me a sweater when he gets into the living room.

  “Best I could do,” he comments, grabbing his bag in the hallway by the front door. “My nicer jumpers are up in my room.”

  I pull the sweater over my head. It has navy-and-white horizontal stripes across it that are a little faded with a red K on the front for Kensington. Overall, it’s cute. It sort of has a vintage university vibe.

  Someone has an admirer.

  2pm

  When we get to the field, Gene opens up the folding chair he brought and places it along the sidelines.

  “You’ll do great,” Gene says, patting Noah on the back before we walk to the other side of the field, toward Coach Carson.

  “Nice to see you again,” Coach Carson greets, looking me over. “Just wait over there”—he points to where the team is dropping their duffels—“until the match starts.”

  I nod, moving out of the way. More players filter onto the field, and families and friends start to gather around.

  “All right, boys,” Coach yells, “let’s get started on those drills.”

  The Kensington team runs onto the field to warm up for the game.

  I rub my arms, the cool air tickling my cheeks. It definitely was a good idea to wear a sweater.

  “Hey,” Olivia says, walking up to me. She has on a light-pink sweatshirt tucked into high-waisted jeans. Her makeup is done perfectly, and her hair is pulled back into a clip, a few tendrils escaping to frame her face.