The Secret Place (23 page)

Silence. Orla’s mouth was hanging open.

‘If you’ve got something to tell us, you can come find us any time this afternoon. Or if you’re worried someone’ll notice you going, you can ring us, even text us. You’ve all got our cards.’

Conway’s eyes moving across the faces, coming down on each one like a stamp.

‘You, who I’ve been talking to: this is your chance. Grab it. And until you have, you look after yourself.’

She tucked the photo back into her jacket pocket; tugged down her jacket, checked to make sure the line fell just right. ‘See you soon,’ she said.

And walked out of the door, not looking back. She didn’t give me any heads-up, but I was right behind her all the same.

Outside, Conway tilted her ear towards the door. Listened to the urgent fizz of two sets of talk behind it. Too low to hear.

Houlihan, hovering. Conway said, ‘In you go. Supervise.’

When the door closed behind Houlihan she said, ‘See what I meant about Holly’s gang? Something there.’

Watching me. I said, ‘Yeah. I see it.’

Brief nod, but I saw Conway’s neck relax: relief. ‘So. What is it?’

‘Not sure. Not yet. I’d have to spend more time with them.’

Sniff of a laugh, dry. ‘Bet you would.’ She headed off down the corridor, at that fast swinging pace. ‘Let’s eat.’

Chapter 10

In the middle of the Court, the fountain has been shut off and the huge Christmas tree is up, storeys high, alive with light twirling on glass and tinsel. On the speakers, a woman with a little-kid voice is chirping ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’. The air smells so good, cinnamon and pine and nutmeg, you want to bite into it, you can feel the soft crunch between your teeth.

It’s the first week of December. Chris Harper – coming out of the Jack Wills shop on the third floor in the middle of a gang of guys, bag of new T-shirts over his shoulder, arguing about
Assassin’s Creed II
, hair glossy as conkers under the manic white light – has five months and almost two weeks left to live.

Selena and Holly and Julia and Becca have been Christmas shopping. Now they’re sitting on the fountain-edge around the Christmas tree, drinking hot chocolate and going through their bags. ‘I still don’t have anything for my dad,’ Holly says, rummaging.

‘I thought he was getting the giant chocolate stiletto,’ says Julia, stirring her drink – the coffee shop called it a Santa’s Little Helper – with a candy cane.

‘Ha ha, hashtag: lookslikehumourbutnot. The shoe’s for my aunt Jackie. My dad’s impossible.’

‘Jesus,’ Julia says, examining her drink with horror. ‘This tastes like toothpaste-flavoured ass.’

‘I’ll swap,’ Becca says, holding out her cup. ‘I like mint.’

‘What is it?’

‘Gingerbread something mocha.’

‘No, thanks. At least I know what mine is.’

‘Mine’s delish,’ Holly says. ‘What would actually make him happy is for me to get a GPS chip implanted, so he can track me every second. I know everyone’s parents are paranoid, but I swear, he’s
insane
.’

‘It’s because of his job,’ Selena says. ‘He sees all the bad stuff that happens, so he imagines it happening to you.’

Holly rolls her eyes. ‘Hello, he works in an
office
, most of the time. The worst thing he sees is forms. He’s just mental. The other week when he came to pick me up, you know the first thing he said? I come out and he’s looking up at the front of the school, and he goes, “Those windows aren’t alarmed. I could break in there in under thirty seconds.” He wanted to
go find
McKenna
and tell her the school wasn’t
secure
, and I don’t know, make her install fingerprint scanners on every window or something. I was like, “Just kill me now.”’

Selena hears it again: that single note of silver on crystal, so clean-edged it slices straight through the syrupy music and the cloud of noise. It falls into her hand: a gift, just for them.

‘I had to
beg
him to just take me home. I was like, “There’s a night watchman, the boarders’ wing has alarms on all night, I swear to God I am not going to get human trafficked, and anyway if you go hassling McKenna I’ll never talk to you again,” and finally he went OK, he’d leave it. I was like, “You keep asking why I always take the bus instead of letting you pick me up?
This
is why.”’

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Julia says to Becca, making a face and wiping her mouth. ‘Swap. Yours can’t be worse than this.’

‘I should just get him a lighter,’ Holly says. ‘I’m sick of pretending I don’t know he smokes.’

Selena says, ‘I’ve been thinking about something.’

‘Ew,’ Becca says, to Julia. ‘You were right. It’s like little kids’ medicine.’

‘Minty ass. Bin it. We can share this one.’

Selena says, ‘I think we should start getting out at night.’

The others’ heads turn.

‘Out like what?’ Holly asks. ‘Like out of our room, like to the common room? Or
out
out?’

‘Out out.’

Julia says, eyebrows up, ‘
Why?
’

Selena thinks about that. She hears all the voices from when she was little, soothing, strengthening:
Don’t be scared, not of monsters, not of witches, not of big dogs.
And now, snapping loud from every direction:
Be scared, you have to be scared,
ordering like this is your one absolute duty. Be scared you’re fat, be scared your boobs are too big and be scared they’re too small. Be scared to walk on your own, specially anywhere quiet enough that you can hear yourself think. Be scared of wearing the wrong stuff, saying the wrong thing, having a stupid laugh, being uncool. Be scared of guys not fancying you; be scared of guys, they’re animals, rabid, can’t stop themselves. Be scared of girls, they’re all vicious, they’ll cut you down before you can cut them. Be scared of strangers. Be scared you won’t do well enough in your exams, be scared of getting in trouble. Be scared terrified petrified that everything you are is every kind of wrong. Good girl.

At the same time, in a cool untouched part of her mind, she sees the moon. She feels the shimmer of what it might look like in their own private midnight.

She says, ‘We’re different now. That was the whole point. So we need to be doing something different. Otherwise
.
.
.’

She doesn’t know how to say what she sees. That moment in the glade sliding away, blurring. Them dulling slowly back to normal.

‘Otherwise it’s just about what we
don’t
do, and we’ll end up going back to the way things were before. There needs to be something we actually
do
.’

Becca says, ‘If we get caught, we’ll get expelled.’

‘I know,’ Selena says. ‘That’s part of the point. We’re too good. We always
behave
ourselves.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Julia says, and sucks gingerbread something mocha off her hand with a pop.

‘You do too – yeah, Jules, you
do
. Snogging a couple of guys and having a can or a cigarette sometimes, that doesn’t count. Everyone does that. Everyone
expects
us to do it; even adults, they’d be more worried about us if we
didn’t
do it. Nobody except Sister Cornelius actually thinks it’s a big deal, and she’s insane.’

‘So? I don’t actually
want
to rob banks or shoot up heroin, thanks. If that makes me a goody-goody, I’ll live with it.’

‘So,’ Selena says, ‘we only ever do stuff we’re supposed to do. Either stuff we’re supposed to do because our parents or the teachers say so, or stuff we’re supposed to do because we’re teenagers and all teenagers do it. I want to do something we’re not supposed to do.’

‘An original sin,’ Holly says, through a marshmallow. ‘I like it. I’m in.’

‘Oh, Jesus, you too? For Christmas I want friends who aren’t freaks.’

‘I feel criticised,’ Holly says, hand to her heart. ‘Should I use my D’s?’

‘Don’t be Defensive,’ Becca drones, in Sister Ignatius’s voice. ‘Don’t be Despondent. Take a Deep breath and be a Dickhead.’

‘It’s OK for you,’ Julia tells Holly. ‘If you get kicked out, your dad’ll probably give you a
prize
. My parents will freak. The fuck.
Out.
And they won’t be able to decide who was the bad influence on who, so they’ll just play it safe and never let me see any of you again.’

Becca is folding up a silk scarf that she already knows her mother will never wear. She says, ‘My parents would freak out too. I don’t care.’

Julia snorts. ‘Your mother would be
delighted
. If you can convince her that you were heading to a gang bang in a coke den, you’ll make her
year
.’ Becca is not what her parents had in mind. Usually she practically curls into a ball when they come up.

‘Yeah, but having to find me a new school would be hassle. They’d have to fly home and everything. And they hate hassle.’ Becca shoves the scarf back in her bag. ‘So they actually would completely freak out. And I still don’t care. I want to go out.’

‘Look at that,’ Julia says, amused, leaning back on one hand to examine Becca. ‘Look who’s got ballsy all of a sudden. Good for you, Becs.’ She raises the cup. Becca shrugs, embarrassed. ‘Look: I’m so on for an original sin. But could we please make it, like, a good one? Call me a pussy, but getting expelled in exchange for what, exactly? Getting a cold up my gee sitting on a lawn where I can already sit any day I want to? Not exactly my idea of a good time.’

Selena knew Julia would be the hardest to convince. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘I’m scared of getting caught too. My dad wouldn’t care if I got expelled, but my mum would lose her
mind
. But I’m so sick of being scared of stuff. We need to do something we’re scared of.’

‘I’m not
scared
. I’m just not
stupid
. Can’t we just, like, dye our hair purple or—’

‘Totally original,’ Holly says, flicking an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, fuck you. Or have a twitch every time we talk to Houlihan—’

Even to Julia it sounds weaksauce. ‘That’s not scary,’ Becca says. ‘I want something scary.’

‘I liked you better before you grew a pair. Or, I don’t know, Photoshop Menopause McKenna’s head onto a still from “Gangnam Style” and stick it on the—’

‘We’ve already done stuff like that before,’ Selena points out. ‘It has to be
different
. See? It’s harder than it sounds.’

‘What are we even going to
do
out there?’

Selena shrugs. ‘I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing special. That’s not even the point.’

‘Right. “Sorry I got expelled, Mum, Dad, I actually don’t have a clue what I was even doing out there, but dyeing my hair purple wasn’t
original
enough—”’

‘Hi,’ says Andrew Moore. He’s grinning down at them from between two matching mates, like they were expecting him, like they beckoned him over. Becca realises: it’s the way they’re all sprawled on the fountain-edge, loose, legs outstretched, leaning back on their hands. It counts as an invitation.

And Andrew Moore answered, Andrew Moore Andrew Moore all rugby shoulders and Abercrombie and those super-blue eyes that everyone talks about. The rush comes first, the breathtaking tingling surge like sweetness and bubbles cascading onto their tongues. It’s
Oh God does he could he is it me
, exploding up your spine. It’s his broad hands glowing now that they could wind around yours, his hard-cut mouth electric with maybe kisses. It’s you snapping to sit just right, offering up boobs and legs and everything you have, cool and casual and heart slamming. It’s you and Andrew Moore sauntering hand in hand down the endless neon corridors, king and queen of the Court, every girl turning at once to gasp and envy. ‘Hi,’ they say up to him, dazzled, and shiver when he sits down on the fountain-edge beside Selena, when his sidekicks flank Julia and Holly. This is it, this is the trumpet-blast and all flags flying that ever since the first of first year the Court has been promising, this is its magic finally unveiled and theirs for the taking.

And then it’s gone. Andrew Moore is just some guy who actually none of them even like.

‘So,’ he says, smiling, and leans back to enjoy the adoration.

Holly says, before she knows she’s going to, ‘We’re in the middle of a conversation here. Give us a sec.’

Andrew laughs, because obviously that was a joke. His sidekicks join in. Julia says, ‘No, seriously.’