by Serena Lyons
Although maybe I should at least hint about him on the website. Enough to keep people chatting. Any gossip to do with Callum has a half-life much longer than news about anyone else in college. Maybe it’s the knowledge that gossip about him is actual news, that it might be thrilling enough to make the tabloids, that makes everyone so much more enthralled. But something tells me his being rock royalty isn’t the only draw, even if his dad was an accountant, gossip about Callum would still matter because he’s it, the golden leader of our college and it doesn’t just come from birth-right, it’s his magnetic charisma that keeps him front and centre, the college ‘King’ as I love to tease.
I quickly add another menu item: the key players in Millie’s life. Her family, her school friends, her boyfriend. That should set everyone’s tongue wagging.
The I upload a scan of her autopsy—the one I managed to steal from the local police station—and highlight the suspicious parts. The welts on her wrist like she’s been tied up. The fact her phone was taken apart, her SIM card ruined in a glass of coke, removing her only route to call for help in her secluded rural home. The photo of her notebook; the angry scribbles of her name, Callum’s name, the word love and betrayed.
That should definitely be enough to set the college gossip going in the right direction. I laugh, feeling more satisfied than I thought would be possible after my disaster earlier.
I google Callum’s name, checking if my new website will come up. It doesn’t. Instead his name links to proper media sites with hundreds of thousand of hits. The Daily Mail has salacious gossip about his women or his dad’s women or women claiming to be both. Hello features glossy shoots of his entire family, the last one dated four years ago, seemingly released to try and drown out news of his dad’s bit on the side claiming he’d paid her to have an abortion. In the photos Callum, his two older brothers and his younger sister look like golden children, like youths from another era, a cleaner, happier one with their bright smiles and shining hair. I click on the third news link, a gossip magazine ranking the Carter-Wright brothers in order of attractiveness. It’s only two months old and it ranks them on a number of characteristics: face, body, talent, oomph factor and naughtiness. Callum trails on every area but face and body—his older brothers are both jobbing actors known for seducing their co-stars—but the photo explaining his full score for body is enough to make me gasp out loud.
Not just the site of his chiseled muscles—which are objectively breath-taking and specifically heart-stopping given I was pressed against them just a few hours ago—but the detail it shows of his tattoo. The elaborate Roman numerals winding across his heart that I noticed earlier. Just as I predicted his tattoo is of Millie’s death date. My breath catches in my throat; the bastard is boasting about what he did. Fucking psychopath. Well, he can keep his boasts for prison, because he will pay for what he did.
There is no way I am letting him get away with this. I press publish on my website with a huge smile on my face. Revenge is sweet.
14: Faith
The benefit of having been so unceremoniously kicked out by Callum, is that I wake bright and fresh with the sun in the morning. Adrenalin courses through my body and I know that only exercise will ease my shaking limbs. I yank on some tight leggings and a racer-back top, then set up a podcast. I’m obsessed with true crime stories these days, especially miscarriages of justice where an amateur sleuth has to take on a conniving killer. I never know when I’ll pick up a useful tip.
I jog to the lodge and am pleased to see that half of tear off slips with my Millie conspiracy website address have already been torn off my poster. It’s going to be fun to hear all of the rumours later.
I try not to stare for too long, but when I spin around Axel is towering over me. “You look pleased for someone whose time here is numbered.” He sneers.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh you know what you did last night,” his eyes flicker over me and I see judgement in them. “Everyone who takes on Callum loses, you might as well just leave already.”
His patronising tone makes me snap inside. “Just because you follow your master’s every command, don’t expect me to do the same.”
He surprises me by laughing instead of taking offense. “Oh sweetheart, you don’t understand what you’re taking on. Have fun fighting.” He blows me a kiss then darts away from me.
‘What you’re taking on? Had Callum and his posse already connected the website to me? It doesn’t seem like such a smart idea in the light of day.
Unsettled, I head for the university park, but it’s too full of shiny students, all smug in their college team sports tops. I want proper people, not the rarefied privilege of the university. I spin around and jog to a rougher part of town, one that reminds me of home with its unkempt gardens and rotting abandoned furniture.
I’m halfway down a particularly rundown street, when someone I recognise appears on the horizon. His upright posture, expensive clothes and swift gait mark him out as being completely out of place. It’s Rafe. I should talk to him, see if he’ll drop any hints about what Callum’s saying about me.
I cross the street so I’m on the same side, then pull out my earphones as I approach. “Rafe, hi.” I keep it friendly.
He pales. “What are you doing here?”
I laugh, looking down at my work-out clothes. “Jogging, dur.”
“No, I meant still in Oxford. Callum wants you gone, so you might as well give up now.” His eyes turn flinty. “No one ever wins against him.”
There’s the answer to my question then. Fuck. I take a deep breath before replying. “What did he say?”
“I’m not spilling my best friend’s secrets to someone he patently despises.” His lips narrow and he looks at me as if I’m trash. “But a word to the wise, if Callum wants you gone it’s only a matter of time until you’re gone. He runs everything here.”
Damn, this is even worse than I thought. But neither Callum nor Rafe knows that I’m not just a soft fresher they can bully out on a whim. They can do their worst to me, and I won’t leave. I owe it to Millie to stay and find out what Callum did to her. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m not going anywhere.” I put my earphones back in. “And you can tell Callum that.” I shout as I set off down the road.
“Bloody Callum,” I mutter under my breath, although really it’s my fault for being so goddamn stupid snooping yesterday. I’m never going to get justice for Millie if I keep acting so idiotically.
Rafe’s confirmation that Callum wants me gone has drained all the energy from my body. I can’t continue jogging any more. I spin around to make the long trip back to college.
As I turn, I see Rafe pausing outside a gate a little further along from where I met him, then looking over one shoulder then the other, like he’s worried someone is watching him.
Something weird is going on. There’s no way he has friends who live here.
I stand behind a postbox, jogging on the spot until he’s disappeared inside the building. I want to know what the hell he’s up to. If my podcasts have taught me anything, it’s that more information is always useful. Even the most random thing can turn out to be a vital clue.
Going straight to the house, is a bad idea. If he sees me spying on him, it’ll just give him and Callum even more ammunition. Instead I pull my hair into a tight bun to hide the giveaway turquoise ends, pull off my bright orange windbreaker and switch tops so my black t-shirt is on top. Once I’m sufficiently anonymous, I start jogging to the place where Rafe disappeared.
“Fuck,” I curse a metre or so before the gate, then slow to a stop and crouch down as if I have a loose lace. As I’m bending over, I check there’s no one on the street who’ll notice me acting oddly. Luckily, it’s a bitter autumn day, and it’s all clear.
Balancing on my heels I slowly lift myself up to peer into the house Rafe disappeared into. The paint on the front door is faded and peeling. It doesn’t look like the sort of place ‘the future Lord of Arlingham’ woul
d spend much time.
I lift my gaze to the top window, someone’s up there. A silhouette that looks far too much like Rafe for my liking moves towards the window. I drop to the cold pavement, ninety-nine percent certain that there’s no way he’ll be able to see me at this angle. Still, my heart hammers in my chest. If he has spotted me and tells Callum, I’ll be even less likely to find out more about him and Millie.
God knows how long Rafe will be inside for. If he comes out now I’m screwed, my disguise won’t fool him close up. I’m pushing my luck, I need to move on. I stay half-crouched and start moving, hiding under the hedges until I’m four or five houses down from the one Rafe snuck into.
I straighten up and start jogging, even though my limbs ache. There’s nothing weird about a jogger out for a run. My podcast blares in my ear, but I’ve no idea what they’re talking about. I keep thinking back to Rafe’s face as he warned me to leave.
How did Callum become this powerful, this feared? Do other people know what he’s capable of? Has he hurt more people other than Millie?
I pound the pavement, half wishing it was Callum’s face as I get back to the nicer part of the city. The golden buildings of the university loom tall as I approach Magdalen Bridge.
I’m halfway across the bridge, when a familiar figure passes me, his long gaze out at the river showing he hasn’t noticed me. It’s Millie’s older brother, Phil.
“Phil!” I stop running and shout his name before I can think about whether it’s a good idea or not. “Phil!” I move towards him, ready to tap his shoulder if needed.
He spins around with a confused expression, like he’s not sure who I am at first.
Christ, I don’t look that different, just a different shade of hair. We spent every summer holiday under each other’s feet until two years ago. Well, when he wasn’t being a douche and threatening to tell Millie’s mam that we were hanging out despite our ban.
“Faith Davies, well I never,” he whistles out slowly and lets his eyes rake over my body in a way that makes me want to pull my jacket tighter. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“I’m studying here,” I surprise myself with the pride in my voice. “First year PPE.”
“Here? You mean Brookes?”
My fists tighten at his automatic assumption that I’m not at the Oxford, but the less academic modern university. “No, I mean Oxford. I’m at Westforde College, actually.” I drop the name in casually, but I know Phil will recognise it as the best.
“You got into Westforde?”
I try not to notice the sneer on his face. “What are you doing here? I lost track of your plans after…” I trail off, but we both know I mean after Millie. “Are you studying too?”
“God no,” he shudders and curls his lip. “I’m working with father in London. I had a meeting here this afternoon, so I’m staying the night to see some old school friends. Christ, I never would have expected you to go to Westforde.”
For a second, I wonder whether to tell him why I’m here. Maybe he could help. But the snobby tone of his voice reminds me that while Millie and I were equals, he always looked down on me. He’d probably just call me crazy, exactly like his mother did.
“Millie told me it was the best.” Something lurches in my chest as I say her name out loud for the first time in months. God, I miss her.
Phillip’s cheek tightens, and guilt floods through me. I shouldn’t have just brought her up like that with no warning.
“Sorry,” I stammer my cheeks flushing.
“I need to go.” A veil goes over Phillip’s face, masking whatever emotions I so unthinkingly stirred up. He looks into the distance, his jaw tight.
“I’m sorry, Phillip. I didn’t mean to upset you… Call me if you ever want to talk about her?”
He looks puzzled, then his eyes darken. “I have my family for that.” He says haughtily, then walks away from me.
“Stuck-up, idiot.” I mutter under my breath. It’s like he kicked me, and I don’t understand why I’m so sad. Then I understand; I wasn’t offering to talk to him about Millie out of kindness, I need someone to talk about her with. She was my best friend, and nobody knows it, nobody else seems to remember her mischievous sense of humour or wicked laugh The realisation makes my body heavy and I lean on the side of the bridge staring down at the murky water.
I miss her so much, Callum can’t get away with what he did.
15: Faith
My stomach growls as I turn to walk back to college. I’m too exhausted to run anymore. It’s almost time for lunch in hall, so I’ll have a quick shower then go eat.
The scorching water opens my mind and I try to connect what I just saw. Why was Rafe acting so weirdly? Has Callum ordered him to keep an eye on me? But that doesn’t explain him going into that house.
And then the weirdness of seeing Phillip on the bridge.
Maybe I should have said something to him about what I’m doing here. Having someone on my team would make things a hell of a lot easy. But when I tried to tell the police my suspicions, Lady Charrington just told them I was crazy. That no one was more pained than her to have to admit her daughter’s death was a suicide. I can’t risk that happening again, no matter how much I think Phillip would want to get vengeance for his sister.
Whispers hiss from gossiping groups as I cross the quad to hall. Damn, I’d almost forgotten about Callum throwing me out the other night and the repercussions as his adoring followers try to hound me out of college. It’s clear he hasn’t though. I hear ‘snooping’ and ‘gold-digger’ from cliques that determinedly close in on themselves as I pass.
I do not care. I’m not here to make friends.
Still my head dips as I climb the stairs to the serving area. I’m not sure I can face Callum if he’s inside. Not after the way he glared at me last night. I have no idea how to get back to his good side.
“What the…” Adrenalin floods my body as I start falling to the floor. I right myself, thinking I somehow missed a step, but then I see the foot right in front of me. A foot placed deliberately to trip me up.
It’s one of Jess’s glossy friends. “So you’re not just a slut who throws herself at another woman’s man? You’re also a cheap sneak too?” Her voice is loud, like she’s a character on stage, and the main door to the hall is open. Everyone inside must be able to hear her.
“Standard, blame the woman why don’t you.” I straighten myself up to full height. “When a guy says he’s single, I believe him.”
“Whatever, you’ve shown your true colours.” She wrinkles up her pert nose like I smell bad.
Frustration makes me want to keep on arguing. I don’t even like Callum, I’m chasing after him because I’m trying to be a good friend, to avenge Millie, to stand up for women everywhere. But I can’t say any of that, so I simply smile vacantly and order the first thing I see from the waiting server: more bloody soup.
Unsurprisingly, the hall is quiet when I walk in, bar a few whispers and fingers pointed in my direction. I’m not that hungry anymore, but know I need to eat after my run. It ended up being over ten miles.
As soon as I place my tray on the first empty part of a bench, everyone within spitting distance moves. They tut loudly as they pack up their food and squash on to already full benches further away from me.
This is all for Millie. I remind myself as my chest tightens. I keep my eyes fixed straight at the wall in front of me as I shovel soup into my mouth. Mouthful after tasteless, clawing mouthful.
“Just who I wanted to see.” I spin around and Jess is glaring down at me, her arms folded.
“Hi Jess, I—”
“I just came to tell you practice is off tomorrow. We’ll see you on Monday at two.”
“Thanks…”
She walks away before I can finish my sentence. I want to hate her attitude, but I can’t really blame her for thinking I’m a bitch who puts hot men before female friendships. I am acting like a horrible person chasing after Callum when it’s
clear she likes him so much. If only I could explain why I’m doing it. That he’s the bad person.
I turn back to my soup. I’m nearly finished when someone else leans down, right next to my ear.
A ball of tension lodges in my throat, they’re too close for this to be a pleasant introduction. I let my eyes drift to see who it is. Callum? My heart thumps at the thought.
Dark hair and eyes fill my vision. It’s Axel. Glaring at me with such venom I have to blink. I thought of Callum and his gang as little rich boys playing at being tough, but Axel looks like he could hurt me and enjoy it right now. I shiver and look away.
“I hope you’re enjoying this meal, you won’t have many more here.” His voice is a low growl and my hand trembles as I twist my head to look at him. His eyes are flinty chips.
“I think you’ve misunderstood, I’m here for the next three years.” As I speak, I sense his hand moving around my back, toward the table, but by the time I turn away from him there’s nothing there.
I force myself to take another spoonful of soup. They’re not going to scare me off, I’ll finish my lunch, then I’ll leave the whispers and stares.
“We’ll see about that, sneak.” He leans to pat my back, then straightens up just as the taste of hot chilli explodes in my mouth.
Tears sting my eyes and I fumble for a jug of water. I can’t cope with spicy food at the best of the times and this is as strong as tear gas. I want to rip the burning inside of my mouth out. I want to cry, but I can’t cry here. I can’t let them know they got to me.
The water is sweet relief for my burning tongue and my breathing slows as I stop panicking. I can’t finish the soup, but I damn well can drink another glass of water before I leave. And slowly. They’re not hounding me out.