Fracture

by C. J. Daugherty

  ‘She didn’t tell you anything else useful?’ Rachel asked. ‘Like where’s Eloise? And who else do they suspect?’

  Allie shook her head. ‘Not much. We ran out of time. Anyway, she was more about the shouting and the threatening.’

  ‘That’s always nice.’ Smoothly, Rachel dodged a junior student running straight at her. ‘Everyone likes a bit of threatening.’

  Watching the boy run laughing back to his friends, Allie envied his freedom to just be a kid. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that innocent and happy.

  ‘Totally,’ she said, her tone weary.

  It had been a long day already, and she still had to go and talk to Isabelle again. Allie pressed her fingertips against her forehead.

  ‘Are you sure she didn’t say anything else bad?’ Rachel watched her with concern. ‘You look like someone punched you. Did she punch you?’

  ‘No one hit me,’ Allie said. ‘Not, like… physically, anyway. Look, I should go…’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t. We haven’t talked about boys yet.’

  Ignoring Allie’s protests, Rachel hustled her across the first-floor landing, out of the classroom wing and into the main building where classic statues stood in perpetual graceful postures. They slipped behind a statue of a young man with a ridiculously frilly jacket that jutted out over his behind, and sat down on a stone bench.

  Tucked away in the quiet nook, they were hidden from view.

  Rachel leaned back against the wall with a contented sigh. ‘This is my happy place. Now. Tell me.’

  Her voice halting at first but strengthening as she went along, Allie told her about her talk with Carter, deciding she felt only friendship-love for him, and then what happened with Sylvain.

  ‘I blew it… I blew it… again.’ Leaning forward, she pressed her hot forehead against the cold marble curve of the statue’s heel. ‘Oh, Rachel. Why do I feel like this? Why is it all so confusing?’

  Rachel’s voice was gentle. ‘Allie, Carter was your first love. The first one is always the worst.’

  ‘Oh, but why did he kiss me?’ Allie said, miserably. ‘It made everything so much worse.’

  ‘It sounds like you’re not the only one having trouble getting over it.’

  Allie couldn’t argue with that.

  ‘What are you going to do about Sylvain?’ Rachel said. ‘What does your heart tell you to do?’

  Allie sagged back on the bench. ‘My heart is telling me to find out who helped Jo’s killers and just stay away from all boys until then.’

  Rachel looked thoughtful. ‘You can’t use Jo’s death as an excuse not to make decisions about your own life – you know that, right?’

  Allie blinked at her. ‘I’m not… am I?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Allie Sheridan!’

  They both heard the voice at the same time. Someone on the landing was calling her. But no one could see them in their hiding place.

  ‘Who is it?’ Allie hissed.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll take a look.’ Rachel climbed up to look over the statue’s flying coat-tails. Standing on her toes, she craned her neck to see. Then she looked back at Allie wide-eyed. ‘Jules. Mayday. Mayday. Dive. Dive.’

  ‘Bollocks.’ Allie ducked down low behind the legs of the statue. ‘Why is she looking for me?’

  ‘Well, she’s a prefect, so she might need you for prefect… ness,’ Rachel reasoned. ‘Or maybe she wants to beat you up for kissing her boyfriend.’

  Allie swung at her but couldn’t reach her.

  ‘Steady,’ Rachel said, and a fit of giggles threatened to overtake them both.

  ‘Is she close?’ Allie hissed, trying to stay calm.

  Rachel pressed her fingers against her lips. Covering her mouth with both hands, Allie watched as Rachel peeked again around the statue’s flared jacket. At that precise moment, Jules appeared in front of her, trying to see past her into the nook.

  ‘Oh, Rachel.’ Her tone was officious. ‘Have you seen Allie?’

  Allie knew how much Rachel longed to lie at this moment – she could see it in the set of her shoulders, sense it in the way she gathered herself as she prepared to speak. She also knew Rachel was a terrible liar.

  ‘I’m right here.’ She stood up, looking at the prefect over Rachel’s shoulder. ‘What’s up?’

  For a long second, Jules held her gaze. It was a challenging look; a warning. Maybe even a threat.

  But all she said was: ‘Isabelle wants you in her office.’

  Allie nodded then turned to give Rachel a meaningful look. ‘Take notes or something for me. When you see the others.’

  ‘Will do. Good luck.’ Behind Jules’ back, Rachel saluted her sympathetically.

  Staying a step or two behind, Allie followed Jules out on to the grand landing. Around them, the white statues caught the late afternoon light and glowed like angels preparing to fly.

  With each step, Jules’ Uggs made an annoying scuffing sound on the polished oak floors. Allie tried to work out which she hated more – the sheepskin boots or the fact that Jules got to wear her own shoes as a perk of being prefect.

  ‘How’s the gardening going?’ Jules asked suddenly.

  ‘Um… what?’ The question caught Allie by surprise. ‘You mean detention?’

  Never breaking her stride, Jules nodded.

  ‘Fine, I guess,’ Allie said. ‘I mean, it’s stupid and pointless; I’m learning a valuable lesson… yadda yadda yadda…’

  They walked in silence for a long time after that, the only sound the shushing of Jules’ shoes. Then: ‘And Carter’s still doing it too?’

  Scuff, scuff, scuff…

  Her eyes lowered, Allie tried to figure out what Jules was getting at. Surely she knew her own boyfriend still had early morning detention?

  ‘Yes, Carter too.’

  Without warning, Jules rounded on her. ‘Why?’

  Her aggressive tone caught Allie off guard; she stepped back, stumbling over her own feet. ‘Why… what?’

  ‘Why is he still gardening with you?’

  Allie hoped her expression conveyed her belief that the prefect was losing her mind.

  ‘Because he’s got detention, Jules. Why else would anybody be out in the freezing cold at the crack of bleeding dawn three times a week?’

  At that moment, to Allie’s astonishment, all the fight left the prefect. Her eyes filling, she turned away.

  ‘See, that’s my question, too,’ Jules said. ‘Carter hasn’t got detention. He hasn’t had it once this term.’

  Allie stared at her blankly. ‘That’s crazy, Jules. He must do. You’ve got your information wrong…’

  ‘Oh please. I’m a prefect, remember?’ Jules’ tone was withering. ‘I get the detention list every day. He’s not on it. But he still goes out there with you…’

  Allie’s stomach twisted. ‘I don’t… understand…’ she said faintly.

  ‘Don’t you?’ Jules didn’t look like she believed her. ‘Well, let me make it clearer for you. My boyfriend pretends to have detention at the same time as you when he doesn’t. He joins some imaginary gang and does God knows what every night. Again, with you.’ Jules wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. ‘He hardly talks to me any more but I see him talking to you all the time and he looks so… interested.’ She took a shuddering breath, then held Allie’s gaze with her wounded eyes. ‘Tell me the truth. Are you two together again? Behind my back… is he with you?’

  Allie found herself utterly lost for words.

  Carter had been out in the cold and the rain with her, day after day. Had he endured all that just so she wouldn’t be alone?

  For just a second she wondered. Then she reminded herself of the look on Carter’s face when he talked about Jules and how much she meant to him.

  This is what friends do for each other, she told herself. This is what a true friend does.

  When she replied, she was surprised by how calm she sounded.
r />   ‘No, Jules. Carter and I are not together behind your back. I know for a fact he cares for you very much and would never cheat on you. You’re one of the people he cares most about in the world.’

  Jules searched her eyes for any hint of deception but Allie didn’t flinch.

  ‘Then why is he doing these things?’ Jules’ lips trembled. A tear, crystalline as spring water, escaped from the dark blue pool of her eyes and tumbled down her cheek. ‘I just don’t understand him sometimes.’

  Seeing imperious, unflappable Jules weeping was extraordinary. If she’d been anyone else Allie might have hugged her. But she was… Jules.

  ‘I know Carter is my ex-boyfriend but he’s also my friend. Our break-up really sucked. And then other horrible things… happened.’ In fact, at that moment, Allie longed for nothing so much as to tell Jo about this conversation, and the knowledge that it could never happen was so overwhelming it shook her. She tightened her hands into fists to steady herself. ‘I didn’t know Carter didn’t have detention. But I guess he’s been worried about me because… I’ve been through so much. It was a really nice thing to do. And I didn’t even…’ She took a ragged breath. ‘He’s a good guy, Jules. He really is. Probably one of the best guys I’ve ever known. You’re lucky to have him.’

  Jules twisted her hands. ‘I just… I wish he’d be honest with me. He keeps things from me. Secrets.’

  Allie tried to think of something soothing to say but this was Jules. And Allie had been St Allie of Cimmeria long enough for one afternoon.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ she said, taking a step away. ‘You should really… you know…’ another step ‘– talk to him. Listen, Isabelle is waiting for me.’ Making an apologetic face, she turned and walked away a little faster than was seemly.

  As soon as she rounded the corner she broke into a run. With each step she felt lighter. Despite everything she’d just said her heart lifted at the thought that Carter had gone to such lengths to look out for her. To be her friend.

  She skidded to a stop in front of Isabelle’s office and rapped impatiently on the carved oak door. ‘It’s Allie.’

  ‘Come in,’ a voice called.

  Her thoughts still tangled up in Carter and Jules, Allie didn’t really pay attention to the sound of that voice. She turned the heavy brass handle. The door swung open.

  Sitting comfortably in Isabelle’s chair, Lucinda Meldrum looked at Allie with eyes the exact same shade of grey as her own.

  ‘Hello, Allie,’ her grandmother said. ‘Tea?’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  A

  s Lucinda poured steaming tea into a bone china cup with the Cimmeria crest emblazoned on the side in dark blue, Allie sat across from her in a deep leather chair, watching her with hungry eyes, trying to memorise the details.

  Lucinda’s navy blazer contrasted neatly with her crisp, white blouse. Her white hair was done in a very short, stylish cut that made her look younger than she was. Diamond stud earrings glittered in the light.

  It was only the second time they’d ever met. For most of Allie’s life, she’d believed her grandmother was dead. She wanted to forget nothing.

  ‘Sugar?’ Lucinda asked brightly, her hand hovering over the fragile bowl.

  Allie shook her head, reaching out for the cup. ‘No, thank you,’ she added with belated formality.

  A smile played on Lucinda’s lips as she handed her the cup on a matching saucer. ‘You remind me of your mother at your age. She always forgot to say “thank you” until the last second. Always so eager to move things along.’

  It was weird thinking of Lucinda – a former chancellor in the British government and renowned advisor to world leaders, famous to anyone who ever watched the news – as her mother’s mother. It didn’t seem possible they’d ever been family.

  Allie’s mother had run away from home after finishing at Cimmeria and had never looked back. She’d rejected her mother’s wealth and power in favour of a simple life, and she’d hidden her family history from her children. Allie had only discovered it all once she was at Cimmeria.

  Lifting the teacup to her lips, Allie inhaled its lemony bergamot perfume.

  ‘Now.’ Moving the teapot out of the way, Lucinda settled back in her chair. ‘Let’s have a chat.’

  Up close, Allie could see the delicate pattern of lines around her eyes – they didn’t look like laugh lines. You didn’t become as powerful as Lucinda if you didn’t have a spine of steel.

  ‘We have a situation here, Allie,’ Lucinda said. ‘I don’t have much time, but I think it’s important you should understand exactly what’s happening. Because you are in a great deal of danger. And I need you to be ready for whatever may happen next.’

  ‘The parents,’ Allie said, ‘they’re going to pull their kids out of Cimmeria, aren’t they?’

  Lucinda nodded. ‘That’s Nathaniel’s plan. Then he’ll call for a vote of no confidence, his supporters will identify themselves, I’ll be voted out, they’ll take over the school and the entire organisation, I will be powerless, and he’ll be free to continue his takeover, which I think will damage much more than just Cimmeria.’

  As she described how she would be destroyed, Lucinda appeared unruffled. She could have been describing an ordinary business day for all the emotion she betrayed.

  ‘Some of the kids don’t want to go,’ Allie said. She lifted her chin proudly. ‘We’re going to help them stay.’

  Lucinda stirred her tea with a small silver spoon. ‘It’s a difficult situation. It would be very brave of them to try to stay but their parents will find a way to get them, I fear. They all have good lawyers and their children are underage. Nathaniel is very… resourceful.’

  ‘We can’t just make them go.’ Allie hadn’t considered that Lucinda might not approve of their plan. ‘They don’t want to. Surely they have the right to decide which side they’re on.’

  ‘Not until they’re eighteen they don’t,’ Lucinda said. ‘Allie, I’m not saying they shouldn’t attempt to stand up to their parents and stay here. Just… speak to Isabelle about it. Make sure she knows everything you’re planning. She can help you.’

  ‘Can she?’ Allie’s tone was resentful. ‘She’s been away throughout all of this. We’ve had do everything ourselves.’

  ‘She was never truly away. All you had to do was ask for her and she’d have been here,’ Lucinda chided her gently. ‘However, it certainly says a lot about you and the others that, instead, you made your own plans – found your own way. This is why you were chosen for Night School. I would expect nothing less.’

  The glow of pride Allie felt from her words took her by surprise – she hadn’t realised how much Lucinda’s approval mattered.

  ‘The problem is, Nathaniel has our backs to the wall with this,’ Lucinda conceded. ‘It’s a masterful plan. There are few moves we can make to win.’

  Allie clutched her teacup, considering what this meant. ‘On the phone, a few weeks ago… you said the organisation that runs Night School runs the government. Does that mean if Nathaniel takes over, he’ll control the government?’

  ‘I suppose I’d better start at the beginning.’ Tapping her chin with one finger, Lucinda considered her. ‘Have you heard of the Orion Project?’

  Allie shook her head. She’d heard the term ‘Orion’ used somewhere at Cimmeria before, but she couldn’t place it.

  ‘That is the name of the organisation of which Night School and Cimmeria are one small part. It’s a private group of very powerful people – members of parliament, judges, lawyers, financiers, CEOs, the owners of media corporations…’ She waved her hand and her diamond ring caught the light, glittering like frozen fire. ‘I could go on but that should give you a sense of who we are.

  ‘There are similar organisations in other countries, but Orion is the oldest. I have been the head of Orion for the last fifteen years. It’s a position I essentially inherited from my father. You see, it’s always been a titular position…’ Shooting Allie a
sharp look, she paused. ‘Do you know what “titular” means?’

  Mutely, Allie shook her head.

  ‘It means “in name only”. So the chairman of this organisation mostly ran meetings, hosted dinners, and made sure things… happened. Until I came along.’ She smiled demurely. ‘I changed things.’

  Fascinated and confused, Allie tried to keep up. She wished she was taking notes so she could remember it all later.

  ‘How did you change it?’ she asked.