The Future King: Logres (4 page)

As he smiled her heart did a cartwheel. It seemed that neither one of
them knew what to say after that, but their teacher soon rescued them. The
lights were switched off and the blinds were shut, leaving the room in the blue
glow of the ancient television suspended above the door.

Gwenhwyfar leant towards Arthur, half as an excuse to talk to him, half
as an excuse to get closer. ‘What are we watching?’

‘Something about osmosis,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know, I wasn’t
really listening.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Something about plant cells and water.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘how interesting.’

‘Very,’ Arthur stressed. ‘It gets better—it’ll probably cover
facilitated diffusion next. Exciting.’

She let out a laugh which was definitely too loud. Their teacher
shushed them. Gwenhwyfar tried to focus on something other than her euphoria,
but failed and giggled in silence, and soon Arthur was telling her off too,
half-amused, half-perplexed how he could be so witty.

‘It wasn’t that funny.’

‘Sorry,’ she gasped, ‘I can’t help it.’

As soon as his eyes met hers again she smiled, and he did too.
‘You’re peculiar, you know that?’

‘I am? Thanks. That’s nice.’

‘No, in a good way,’ he corrected, forgetting to lower his voice. The
three girls sat in front of them glanced back, wondering what the joke was.

‘Oh, thanks then, I think.’

‘I said
quiet
!’ Gwenhwyfar
jumped. The teacher’s voice cut through the class. ‘Do you want to go to the
principal’s office?’

This was threat enough to silence the two, albeit an amused silence
with hidden smiles. Most students preferred to avoid the headmaster, as he was
an ominous figure, one who stalked the halls in a blue suit with an expression
of thunder. Dr Ravioli was often called the Nutcracker, due to his resemblance
to one, though this name stemmed from the more boisterous groups of the school
and was largely only used by them.

Gwenhwyfar found Emily, Hattie and Charlotte waiting for her in the
canteen at break, huddled around their usual table. She predicted the interrogation
before she joined them.

‘Was that
Arthur
?’ Hattie
gushed, knowing full well it was.

Teasing, Gwenhwyfar looked over her shoulder. ‘Where?’

‘There. You were just talking to him. I saw you walk in together!’

‘You did?’ Emily sat up to look for him.

‘Only because we had Science,’ Gwenhwyfar dismissed. ‘We were just
talking, that’s all.’

‘And?’

‘And that’s all!’ She gave them both a sly smile. ‘Honestly, I only
sat next to him in class.
Nothing
happened
.’

‘
Nothing happened
always means
something
happened
. Doesn’t it, Em?’

‘What did you talk about?’ Emily demanded. ‘How, even? You said you
were stuck at the back of the room, miles from where he sits.’

Suddenly Gwenhwyfar launched into a full account of her lesson with
Bedivere, how she’d sent Morgan packing, and how Arthur had ‘practically
begged’ to sit with her.

‘Morgan looked so morose when she walked past us on our way down here,’
she revealed, remembering the look on Morgan’s face when she spotted Arthur
with another girl. ‘You’re right, Em. She clearly fancies him. But he didn’t look
at her, not once.’

‘So he likes you then?’ Hattie persisted. Charlotte alienated herself
from the group with a large scowl. Gwenhwyfar shrugged. She liked Arthur, and he
was pleasant and polite to her, but she had the feeling he was pleasant and
polite to everyone.

‘I don’t know. We get on so well though. We could hardly stop
talking. The teacher had to tell us off three times.’

‘Is he going to the party tomorrow?’ Emily’s excitement was palpable.
Both her hyenas craned to get closer.

‘Oh! You should see if he’s going. Is he?’

Gwenhwyfar felt silly for not having thought of it herself. ‘I don’t
know, I didn’t ask. Should I?’

‘
Definitely
. Where is he?’
Emily hunted for Gwenhwyfar’s prey, scanning the hall for the correct table.
Viola was laughing hysterically at something Tom had done, while someone
Gwenhwyfar hadn’t seen before spoke quietly with Gavin. She wondered if it was
Hector. If it was, his appearance didn’t match his heroic name at all; he had a
weak chin and a resentful scowl that darkened his already dour demeanour.

‘Over there, by the fire escape,’ she confirmed, her eyes slipping
past the unmemorable Hector and straight to Arthur. ‘Stop staring! He’s looking
at us!’

‘He is?’ The moment Emily spotted him her eyes dropped to the table.

Gwenhwyfar was going red. ‘I’m not going to ask him now, if that’s
what you’re thinking.’

‘Why not? It’s either now or in History, where everyone will hear. I
can come with you if you like.’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Do you want him to go to the party or what?’ Emily was already on
her feet.

‘I’ll do it
later
!’ she
hissed, sinking lower. ‘It’ll look silly if I go now.’

‘Gwen’s right. I think it will make her look desperate.’ Charlotte’s
words were as stiff as the mouth they left.

‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous! Come on Hattie,
we’ll
go.’

‘No!’ Gwenhwyfar leapt up. That was the last thing she wanted, she didn’t
need Arthur to think he was being ridiculed. ‘I’ll go. But you’re coming with
me, as it was your idea.’

They made their way towards Arthur’s table. Bedivere had already
spotted Emily and was staring at her in awe. The frown in Arthur’s brow nearly
put Gwenhwyfar off, but Emily wasn’t cowed. She joined them both with a wide,
pink smile. ‘Hey!’

The boys said nothing. Bedivere gazed at Emily open-mouthed, while Arthur
eyed her with distrust.

‘Sorry to bother you again,’ Emily proceeded, ‘but Gwen and I were
wondering if you were coming to the party tomorrow night.’

Arthur frowned at her. ‘What party?’

‘Tom’s party.’

Their blank response wasn’t promising.

‘You know, Tom! Tom Hareton. Viola’s boyfriend?’

‘I know Tom,’ Arthur said. ‘We’re not invited.’

‘You are,’ Emily insisted. ‘Viola asked us to ask you. You
have
to come.’

He shifted and looked to the other end of the hall. ‘When is it?’

‘Tomorrow night.’

‘Can’t, I have work. Tell Viola I’m sorry.’

Emily scoffed. ‘
Work
? Who
has to work?’

‘What time?’ Bedivere interrupted.

‘Half-seven.’

He looked to his friend eagerly. ‘Don’t you finish at half-five on
Fridays?’ Arthur shrugged. ‘I can go,’ Bedivere volunteered.

‘Great,’ Emily uttered, not interested. ‘Arthur?’

‘I’ll have to see,’ he evaded.

Gwenhwyfar began to rethink her earlier assessment of his interest in
her. ‘Well, we’ll both be there,’ she dared. ‘So if you can make it, it’d be
nice.’

He seemed unsettled, but mustered an encouraging smile. ‘I’ll think
about it.’

There was little promise in his words. Feeling hope deflate within her,
Gwenhwyfar strode back to their table. Hattie and Charlotte had been gossiping;
not unusual, but the sudden halt of the intense whispering on their arrival
made her uncomfortable.

‘Well, is he going?’ Charlotte asked, smugly.

Gwenhwyfar sent her a false smile. ‘Of course he’s coming. Isn’t he,
Em?’

Emily glanced back to the table where the two boys were seated.
Bedivere was harassing Arthur doggedly. ‘Definitely.’

Proverbial Daggers

Gwenhwyfar wondered if she’d
misheard Emily.

They had organised to meet at the back of the Maths block, but after
waiting patiently for ten minutes Emily was nowhere to be seen. Deciding she
must have forgotten, Gwenhwyfar investigated their other meets, but to no
avail. As she explored the grounds around Badbury, checking the small pockets
in the walls of the music rooms, her stomach began to growl. Familiar voices
drew her out towards the tennis courts. She stopped the moment she saw Viola,
but turned back too late.

‘Are you lost?’

Viola approached with her arms crossed, and reluctantly Gwenhwyfar
turned to face her. ‘No. Have you seen Emily?’

The thin girl observed her with narrowed eyes. ‘Why? Has she
discarded you already?’

‘What does she want?’ Tom was surprisingly intimidating for someone
so slight. Not quite as intimidating as the giant who stood behind him, though.
Gavin Miles towered above all their heads and had a thick, florid face that,
though babyish, was threatening due to his muteness. He had wide blue eyes that
gazed out from under a high forehead and low, expressive eyebrows. The boy she
had seen in the canteen stood beside him, whom Gwenhwyfar had guessed to be Hector.
He was staring rather evidently at her chest.

‘I’m looking for Emily,’ she explained, ‘and Hattie.’

‘Hattie?’ Tom repeated, finding something amusing.

‘Hattie,’ she confirmed. ‘Have you seen her?’

Not one of them offered an answer. Hector was still staring. She
didn’t like the way he gawped.

‘No? How about Emily?’

This time she got a series of unhelpful shrugs, but then Gavin broke
his silence.

‘Wait, you mean that blonde girl who’s obsessed with Lance?’ Gwenhwyfar
frowned. Blonde matched her description, at least. Gavin pointed up the slope
that eventually led to the canteen. ‘I saw her by the Art block, with that
friend of hers. Not Hattie, the other one.’

‘Charlotte?’ He shrugged again. ‘Thanks.’ Quickly she turned to
leave.

‘I don’t know why you hang out with her,’ Viola said, separating
herself from the others. ‘With Emily. You don’t seem like the type.’

Gwenhwyfar crossed her arms. ‘The type to what?’

‘Associate yourself with that lot.’ Viola watched her closely, her
fists stretching her malformed pockets. ‘They’re two-faced. Emily has a new
best friend practically every week.’

‘She does, does she?’

‘You’ve no idea what they’ve been saying about you behind your back.’

Gwenhwyfar looked beyond Viola to Gavin. He averted his eyes. ‘Don’t
I? All right then, what did they say?’

‘Maybe you should ask Emily?’ Viola challenged.

‘No, I’m asking you.’ Gwenhwyfar squared closer. ‘Come on, what did
she say about me?’

Viola rolled her eyes, as if it were obvious, as if she should
already know. ‘She called you a sheep-shagger, what else?’

Gwenhwyfar scowled as, suddenly, her cheeks burned beetroot. For a
moment words failed her, and she struggled to crawl through the shock. ‘A
sheep-shagger?’ she repeated, appalled. Her eyes slid beyond Viola to her entourage,
and she caught a smirk upon Tom’s lips. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking
about,’ she suddenly snarled, ‘so why don’t you just shut up? If anyone’s
two-faced around here, it’s
you
.’

She spun on her heels and stormed up the hill. She expected to hear
laughter in her wake, but none followed. Moments later her vision blurred with
tears that she struggled to blink away.

‘Gwen!’

Starting, Gwenhwyfar looked up to see Hattie jogging down the hill.
The other girl soon fell into step beside her.

‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ she said, obviously out of
breath. ‘Have you seen the others?’

‘No,’ Gwenhwyfar remarked, avoiding eye contact. ‘Someone said they
saw Emily by the Art block, though.’

‘Was Charlotte with her?’ Hattie demanded.

‘I think so. Why?’

‘I’m just curious.’ Hattie glanced to her doubtfully as they climbed
the steps to the path running aside the drama studios. ‘It’s just… I think
she’s been saying things to Emily about you. Earlier when you went to go talk
to Arthur she told me that you said I was fat.’

‘Fat?’ Gwenhwyfar lapped it up. ‘I never said that!’

‘You didn’t?’

‘Of course not! Unlike
some
people, I don’t bitch.’

‘Charlotte’s been telling Emily you’ve been saying nasty things about
us.’ Gwenhwyfar’s insides were boiling. Hattie continued to pry. ‘Have you
upset her or something?’

‘I haven’t said
anything
to
that girl,’ Gwenhwyfar hissed. ‘Not a thing! She’s been rude to me since I got
here. So no, I
don’t
like her.’ She
stopped and turned to Hattie in distress. ‘Has Emily said anything about me to
you?’

Stunned, Hattie shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Not to me, she hasn’t,’ Hattie answered. ‘Why? Has she said anything
to you?’

Gwenhwyfar shook her head. She strode towards one of the back
entrances of Badbury, which was nestled next to cordoned off grass.

‘So it’s just Charlotte, then,’ concluded Hattie. Gwenhwyfar nodded
stiffly. ‘Her uncle’s in the army… maybe she just doesn’t like the Welsh.’

She wished that Hattie had never found her. The other girl launched
into some scandalous story about Charlotte’s uncle and how he’d had an affair
while posted abroad in Israel. Hattie revealed that Charlotte was convinced
he’d fathered a child with his lover, because a few weeks after he had returned
they’d received a phone call from an accented woman. Charlotte had told Hattie
she could hear a baby crying in the background. After that Gwenhwyfar found her
mind closing to the particulars. Her life was mutating into a vortex of “she
said, he said”.

Gwenhwyfar arrived at History that afternoon to find that Morgan was still
ignoring her. She was curled over her textbook with a hard shoulder erecting a barrier
between them, and when Gwenhwyfar offered her a pleasant greeting, she received
an icy silence for her trouble. The stillness of the car park engaged her for a
while as she blurred out the rising noise levels of her class. Their teacher
was late again, but more surprisingly, so were Arthur and Bedivere. They arrived
right before Mr Caledonensis, who stumbled in organising papers and notes.

‘Hey, Arthur,’ Gwenhwyfar offered him her widest smile. ‘Bedivere.
Have you decided if you’re coming to the party tomorrow night?’

Arthur and Bedivere both sat sideways in their chairs. ‘I’m coming,’
Bedivere confirmed. ‘Though I don’t know if I’ve managed to convince Arthur
yet.’

He laughed at this, so Gwenhwyfar did too. ‘Oh, please Arthur, you
have to come. It won’t be the same if you don’t.’ The compliment made him blush,
and he began to fidget. ‘I’ll hardly know anyone there. Charlotte and Hattie
will be chasing after boys all night. I was hoping that Emily and I could hang
around with you guys.’

This hooked Bedivere all the more. ‘That should be all right, shouldn’t
it?’ he consulted, eagerly.

‘I don’t know if I can make it,’ Arthur murmured. ‘I have other
things to do, you know.’

‘Can’t you postpone them?’ Gwenhwyfar suggested. ‘Just for a few
hours?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Oh, come on, I know you want to,’ Bedivere pressed. ‘Just get
someone else to look after her for a bit, she’ll be fine.’

Still unconvinced, Arthur shifted and glanced out of the window. Bedivere
used his silence as an opportunity to ask Morgan instead.

‘Probably not,’ Morgan shrugged, as Arthur’s eyes settled on her
expectantly. ‘It sounds pretty lame. If I want to become legless, I’ll go swim
with sharks. I don’t feel like going to one of Tom’s parties, anyway.’

The four looked across the room. Tom Lincoln Hareton was currently
heckling Mr Caledonensis about his choice of jumper. He was wearing woodland
green.

‘Still,’ Bedivere insisted, ‘it’ll be good. Even if it’s just to make
fun of the idiots.’

‘And you’re definitely coming?’ Arthur’s brown eyes fixed on
Gwenhwyfar. She felt a jolt through her stomach.

‘Definitely. I’m the new girl, I have to go.’

This seemed to appease him. His shoulders dropped, and he relaxed
back into his chair. ‘Well, it seems like I don’t have a choice, either.’

Gwenhwyfar spent most of Friday gazing at the clock, hoping in silent
desperation that her new top would arrive in time. She’d had a moment to check
with Bedivere during tutorial that he and Arthur were still coming, but since
then sightings of either boy had been scarce. Science that afternoon was
Chemistry, though due to a stricter teacher, swapping seats was impossible.
When it was time to pack up and leave, Arthur grabbed his belongings and strode
hastily out of the door.

She was eager to get going. The moment her mum parked the car in the
driveway she flew towards the house to pick up the bag she’d prepared the night
before. Eve followed at a leisurely pace, peeling away her coat in the lobby.
Gwenhwyfar came charging back down the stairs.

‘Mam? Did any parcels arrive today?’

Eve eyed her with surprise. Her school uniform was gone and she was wearing
a large maroon hoodie with worn jeans. ‘We’re leaving now?’

‘I don’t want to be late.’ Gwenhwyfar strode into the lobby to pull
on her trainers. ‘Were there any parcels?’

‘But we just got in! What was the point of coming home? I could have
brought your bag with me, if I’d known.’

‘Mam! The parcel?’

‘What parcel? I didn’t know you were expecting one.’

Gwenhwyfar huffed, muttered something and then proceeded to panic
over what she was going to wear.

‘Can’t you just go in something else?’ Eve tried, pulling her driving
gloves back on.

‘But I wanted to wear that!’ Cursing, Gwenhwyfar ran back up the stairs.
Eve shouted after her, proclaiming she was going. As she opened the front door a
yellow van crackled onto the driveway and blocked her car. Out came a man with
a soft parcel.

Shrugging on her coat Eve positioned herself in the doorway. ‘
Gwen
!’ she yelled.

Soon they were back in the car, driving through their affluent
neighbourhood to Emily’s house. The central navigation system told them they
would be there in ten minutes, but her mother was a slow driver, and would
probably take longer.

‘So how’s school going?’

‘Good.’ Gwenhwyfar kept her eyes fixed out of the passenger window,
willing her mother to go faster.

‘You’ll get used to it. You may even prefer it, after a while.’ There
was a long silence. ‘So who’s going to this party? Anyone nice?’

‘I only know the girls I’m going with,’ Gwenhwyfar shrugged. ‘I
haven’t really met anyone else yet.’

‘Well, maybe now will be a good opportunity to get to know people.
Where is it?’

‘At a boy’s house. He’s got a girlfriend, before you ask. We probably
won’t stay long. We’re going to watch films, later.’

‘You’re still going riding tomorrow, though?’ Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘You
know, your father and I were thinking. Once we’re more settled, if the stables
here are any good, maybe we can get you a new horse. Would you like that?’

‘I don’t want a new horse,’ she muttered. ‘If so, what was the point
of selling Dillon?’

‘He’s old, Gwen. The trip would’ve been too much for him. He hadn’t
been in a horse box for over ten years.’

‘Well, maybe we shouldn’t have moved, then,’ she bit, glancing to her
mother who gazed ahead with crinkled eyes. She looked young for her age, but it
was a youth bought with expensive creams and relentless face yoga. Gwenhwyfar
knew she was handsome, however, and that she herself had been given the best of
her mother’s features: a heart shaped face, a small, rounded chin and full
lips; though she was often told she’d got her short legs and petite frame from
her paternal great-grandmother. She tanned easily and darkly, like her father,
and it was his almond eyes she felt she bore, though sometimes they seemed more
like the green, hooded eyes of her mother. Her mother’s nose was sterner than
her own; and though the similarities didn’t end there she had dyed the thick,
chocolate locks they both shared bleach-blonde for as long as she could
remember.