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  Veronica shrugged. I admired that shrug. “It’s not the end of the world,” she said.

  “I guess you’ve already got the prize money,” said Monro.

  There was a shocked silence at this.

  “Monro,” said Hugo in a jokey voice. “Your empathy levels are dangerously low.”

  “Says the person who told Clemmie to look up the name of the medication,” said Monro. He looked at the artwork. “Hopefully no real damage done, Vee?”

  Veronica shook her head. “I’ll get over it. Anyone want a game of pool? Flo?”

  Everyone dispersed to various corners of the room and Meribel, Lo and I got to the corner sofa before Clemmie’s crowd could. Lo had discovered a new band for us to stalk. I kept my eye on Hugo. He sat on his own at a table with his legs stretched out to the side, calling out to Clemmie to make him a cup of tea. I thought about going to talk to him about my party, just as an excuse; it wasn’t often there was a spare seat next to him.

  Too late. Clemmie’s crowd invaded his space, gathering round the table with their mugs of tea, telling him loudly the prescription was for anxiety meds, and that totally figured. Most of us pretended we hadn’t heard. Paige whispered something to them all, probably some story about Zeta.

  Meribel played an excerpt of music out loud and people turned to give her a look and shame her into muting it. She lowered the volume slightly. Monro walked past Hugo’s table and tripped over his legs. Hugo called him a clumsy bastard, and as he moved his legs under the table, he caught my eye. What an idiot, he said with his facial expression and I rolled my eyes in sympathy while my stomach flipped with delight. I was on Hugo’s radar. He was sitting with Clemmie but he’d rather be with me.

  CHAPTER 8

  I handed the prescription to Calding since she was in the hall when we came back into Pankhurst, telling her someone had found it in Davison. I couldn’t be bothered to involve myself any more than that. There was a low buzz at dinner among people who’d heard about it being pinned to Veronica’s artwork. Zeta seemed oblivious until Calding asked to speak to her after dinner. I couldn’t bear to see her panic as she wondered what it was about, so I repositioned my chair in order not to have her in my line of vision.

  “Should we tell her?” asked Lo. I knew she felt more solidarity with Zeta because they were both scholarship girls. “She’s started jiggling about now.”

  I turned. Clemmie was nudging other people to watch. I sighed heavily, and stood up. As a pretext, I took my glass to refill with water.

  “Your prescription got handed in to Calding,” I told her. “That’s all she wants to see you about.”

  Zeta looked relieved, and didn’t ask me how I knew. I could have finished the conversation at that point, but I was curious. “It was pinned to Veronica’s artwork in Davison. D’you know how it could have ended up there?”

  I saw incomprehension in Zeta’s eyes as she shook her head. “I’ve never been to Davison,” she said. “I knew I’d left it somewhere but I couldn’t remember where.”

  “At least it wasn’t lost,” I said, and flashed a brief smile before going on to the water dispenser.

  In my room afterwards, lying on my bed, looking up at the fairy lights I’d just hung up, Bel, Lo and I discussed who might have pinned the prescription to Veronica’s collage. We agreed that the most likely contender was Clemmie. Davison common room would have been empty if she’d rushed back from school and gone straight there. She’d never minded about offending anyone or making them feel uncomfortable, even her friends – even Veronica.

  We went on to dissect the day. I told them my new timetable was crap because I didn’t have any lessons with Hugo, but three with Bernard. I described the moment I realized Bernard had drawn me nude. They laughed, and said I should report him for being inappropriate. I pointed out that I’d be filing reports 24/7 if I reported every piece of inappropriate behaviour at Mount Norton.

  Meribel told us the new maths teacher had signed her whole class up for an inter-school maths competition the following month.

  “Can you imagine anything more tragic?” she moaned.

  Lo admitted she’d got seventy per cent in a biology test sprung on her that afternoon, and she was really annoyed she didn’t get higher.

  As we tried to give her the talk on her overly high expectations, she held up her hand to bat us away. “In other news,” she said quietly. “I had this feeling all day about Sasha. As if I let her down.”

  “You didn’t,” I said quickly. I couldn’t bear this. I thought it was over.

  “Of course you didn’t,” said Meribel. “She let herself down.”

  Lo flicked the remote-control switch on my fairy lights and they turned green. It was the opposite of calming. “I should have listened to her side of the story, or at least got in contact as soon as I’d heard she’d been expelled.”

  “Her side of the story was she needed the scholarship. We know that,” said Meribel. “It doesn’t excuse her.”

  “I’ve looked for her on social media to see how she’s doing,” said Lo. “She’s unfollowed me on everything and locked her accounts.”

  I breathed out. That was good.

  “I know it’s hard, but you have to move on,” said Meribel. “Your ex-girlfriend wasn’t the person you thought she was.” She lifted her leg up and rotated it while holding her stomach. “I used to be able to do this without it hurting.” She tried the other leg and gave up. “Let’s do running club tonight. Lo, you can leave Pankhurst with a clear conscience because it’s allowed. You need the fresh air. No excuses, either of you.” She dragged Lo, then me off the bed and told us to get changed.

  Running club was the best. It gave us a legitimate excuse to be out of Pankhurst on a Monday evening. Enough people usually turned up that the sports teacher in charge generally didn’t notice if anyone peeled off from the route as long as the right amount of people returned at the allotted time. Running club wasn’t about speed or personal bests – there was athletics club for that.

  While I put on my running gear, I received the text I’d been waiting for from my godfather Steve. Beach house dates confirmed. Get ready to PARTY!

  I cheered out loud – it was utterly brilliant timing. I’d take the other two up there this evening and tell them the news. Once Lo saw the venue, she wouldn’t be able to resist: she’d risk the scholarship to be at the party. She loved that house even more than I did.

  Running club met in the car park at the top of the cliff, where everyone flexed their trainers and fluorescent yellow bibs were handed out, as if we were on an outing from the local nursery school. It was open to everyone from all boarding houses, but there tended to be the same faces. It was mostly the younger years who came, but Veronica was there for the first time with Monro. They’d arrived before us, and Monro was doing elaborate stretches, black neoprene braces on both knees, as if he was a hardcore runner. Lo made a who-does-he-think-he-is? face.

  We ran at the back of the group, then hung back and ducked behind the first lot of thick gorse bushes where we removed the fluorescent bibs, and watched the others carry on, bobbing along like a dotted highlighter line.

  “You know what I’m craving?” said Lo once we’d shoved the bibs into the small backpack I’d brought along for the purpose, so we didn’t have well-meaning members of the public telling us our group had gone on ahead. “Chips from the beach café. With extra vinegar.” She stood up and said, “Let’s go.”

  The café would be closing up. Kipper, the guy who worked there, was temperamental and it would depend on his mood. We doubled back along the cliff at a brisk walking pace, and ran down the zigzag path.

  When we reached the café, the open sign was still up. An older couple was coming out, bringing the smell of frying with them. Lo caught the door and went in first. Kipper – we’d never heard anyone use his real name – was still in his apron. He was in his late twenties or thirties and in the third form we used to think he was quite fit for his age. Now
we agreed he used too much product in his hair, was definitely dodgy and he needed to work on his customer service skills.

  “Café’s closed,” he said.

  “Noooo,” said Lo. “You’re joking.” If it had been Meribel who was desperate for chips, the wail would have been a lot louder.

  “I’m cleaning up,” said Kipper. “You’re too late, angel, unless you’ve come about a part-time job.”

  “Nope, just chips,” said Lo.

  “You’ve still got the open sign on the door,” said Meribel. She was looking at the strange ornaments made from imported shells on the shop side of the café. Some had been made into dogs, others into little people.

  “I haven’t had time to turn over the sign yet,” said Kipper. “Don’t pick up anything you’re not intending to buy.”

  “Well, apparently I can’t buy it because you’re closed,” said Meribel. I wished she hadn’t. It made her sound snotty, playing into the stereotype of how the villagers saw us Nortonians, and he knew which school we were from because we’d been down here in our uniforms plenty of times.

  I waited for Kipper to tell us to get out, but instead he smiled. He had very white teeth. We’d discussed them once and decided they were veneers, picturing his stumpy pared-down teeth before the veneers were fitted.

  “I know some of your lot had a party here, on the roof,” Kipper said. “I’d like you to pass the word round: I won’t tolerate another one. The place was left in a hell of a mess.”

  I could tell from the others’ faces that they were as panicked as I felt.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” said Kipper, losing some of his aggressive tone. “I don’t mind you enjoying yourselves. I’m all for that. Just not here.” He picked up a dirty cloth. “Right, get lost. I’ve got cleaning up to do.”

  We couldn’t reach the door fast enough.

  Outside, we laughed. “He’s so creepy,” gasped Meribel. “Imagine getting a job with him. You’d have to be desperate.”

  “Forget Kipper, I’ve got something to show you two,” I said. I led the way along the promenade towards the steps. “We need to go back up on the cliff path.”

  Meribel groaned. “Really? I bet there’s time to go to the chip shop in Norton village if we pick up the pace. I’m starting to fancy them now too.”

  “It’ll be worth it. I promise,” I said. “Follow me.”

  The party would be exceptional. I was Kate Lynette Jordan-Ferreira. I wouldn’t let Pankhurst down.

  CHAPTER 9

  Lo and Meribel were stunned when I said the beach house was booked for the first party of the season. They agreed every aspect of it was perfect. Not just the brilliant location – with the view, the seclusion and easy walking distance to all boarding houses – the house itself was beautiful. Lo said nothing would stop her being there.

  Meribel nodded vigorously. “It’s house tradition. Sneller might give you a one-day suspension, if she’s forced to. Don’t worry about Calding – it’s what Sneller says that counts.”

  Lo hugged my arm. “Kate, you’re going to raise the party bar so high this year nobody will be able to match it.”

  “It’s going to be the day of the Autumn party,” I said.

  Meribel said, “Whoa! That’s less than three weeks.”

  “That’s plenty of time,” I said with more confidence than I felt. My parents were always throwing parties in Dubai, but they used event planners and caterers.

  The house looked unoccupied, but a window cleaner appeared from down the side of the house to ask what we were doing when we stepped over the low fence into the garden to take photos.

  “Nothing,” I said before anyone mentioned we had a booking. “It’s just a really nice house. We’ve watched it be rebuilt.”

  “You should see inside,” said the man. “Gorgeous. You wouldn’t believe how much it costs to rent. Lucky for some, huh?”

  We rejoined the back of the fluorescent running snake by waiting behind the gorse bushes and stepping out carefully, so our clothes didn’t snag on the prickles. Veronica and Monro were last.

  As they slow-jogged past us, Monro said, “Oh, now I get it. Running club is just a cover for some people.”

  “How did you get to the sixth form and not work that out?” I said. The three of us were walking quickly, and were managing to keep up with them pretty well. “Are you even a Mount Nortonian?”

  “Call me stupid, but I genuinely thought people went running in running clubs,” said Monro.

  “I’m the slowest runner in the world,” said Veronica. “Let’s walk for a bit, M.” She breathed out as if she was blowing out a candle. “I’m not doing this again.”

  “You didn’t have to come with me,” said Monro. “In fact I remember suggesting you didn’t.”

  The three of us glanced at each other to signal our slight amusement at their bickering.

  “You want to know where we’ve been?” said Meribel. She looked at me and I gave her a nod. She understood as well as I did that we needed the right people to get behind the party. Veronica might be annoyed my venue was better than her rooftop one, but I hoped she’d want the next Pankhurst party to be a success too.

  I watched her face break into a wide smile when Meribel told her about the beach house. I was embarrassed how much I cared what she thought.

  “It’s lucky I have a godfather to help out,” I said.

  “Even so,” said Veronica. “Nice work, Miss Jordan-Ferreira.”

  I beamed.

  “You pulling off that location will rattle Hugo,” said Monro. “When’s it Churchill’s turn?”

  “Churchill’s sixth.” As House Prefect, I knew the rota exactly.

  Lo relayed what Kipper had said about the beach café party, and Veronica grimaced. “I didn’t think we’d left it in too bad a state.”

  “Kipper freaks me out,” said Meribel. She gave a dramatic shudder.

  “I saw him give Clemmie his phone number once,” said Veronica. “Can you imagine?”

  We winced.

  “Kipper and Clemmie?” said Monro. “No. I can’t imagine that.” At the car park, we spread out and were taken through some cursory cool-down exercises. I noticed Monro spent more time retying his laces than doing any stretches. It was a shame Hugo wasn’t here. The lunging would have been much more fun.

  Next to me Meribel was actually talking about Hugo. “He’s top of the guest list, right?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  Meribel rattled off other names in our year and the sixth form. There were certain people we had to invite. Clemmie was a given. To not invite her would make people have to choose between us, and I couldn’t risk that.

  “Zeta?” suggested Lo, leaning in as she we stretched our sides.

  “Nope,” I said. “Sorry.” I couldn’t afford to be soft. It was for A-listers only.

  “Bernard, I suppose,” said Meribel.

  I nodded. He was somehow attached to the Sussex clique through somebody’s cousin, so it was kind of expected. “Sure,” I said.

  As we were dismissed from the car park to walk back to our boarding houses, Veronica said, “If you want any tips on how to organize the party, let me know.”

  “Thanks.” I walked next to them, and as we passed Monro’s car, he gave it a pat.

  “You’ve got to move that somewhere less obvious soon,” said Veronica. “Lots of teachers walk this way and they’ll see you with it.”

  “School rules about cars are pathetic,” said Monro. “You should run one of your campaigns.”

  “Sorry, Monro, I don’t feel strongly enough about the issue,” retorted Veronica. “In fact I have some environmental concerns about it.”

  Meribel and Lo were walking faster, and had gone ahead. I didn’t know whether to catch them up, but Veronica asked whether I was still making dragon sculptures, and I became so engrossed in telling her about the problems of the early models exploding in the kiln that we were suddenly at Davison, where she said goodbye and turned
off. The other two had almost reached Pankhurst. I couldn’t leave Monro on his own and run to catch them up, so the two of us walked together for a few minutes. My mind was on the party. It was so much more of a reality now.

  He broke the silence between us. “Why dragons?”

  Because they’re strong and fiery, was the first thing that came into my mind. “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Satisfying shapes?” suggested Monro.

  I nodded. “I like doing the wings.” I sounded dull, dull, dull. Why did I care? It didn’t matter. It was only Monro. The other two were going up the steps to Pankhurst’s front door now, and Meribel stopped to wave at me. I waved back to indicate I’d seen they were going inside, but then she did an unsubtle pointy finger at Hugo, who was standing outside Churchill, on the other side of Pankhurst. He was leaning against the brick wall, on his phone making an actual call.

  From the way he was waving his free hand around, it looked like a heavy conversation.

  “I must tell Hugo about the party,” I said to Monro. “You go on, I’ll wait for him.”

  “Sure,” said Monro.

  “I hope you can make it too,” I added. “It’ll be the night of the Autumn Party.”

  He hesitated.

  “There’s nothing else happening that night, is there?” I pressed him.

  “Nope. Nothing other than practising polite conversation in the assembly hall, which is always such a joy,” said Monro. “Bye then.”

  “Bye.” I waited by the Pankhurst steps as he walked on. He went past Hugo, raising his arm in a slight greeting gesture, but Hugo was intent on his phone call. “I’ve got to go, Janetta,” he said. “And I’m blocking you now.”

  Ah, Janetta, the ex-girlfriend. Now blocked and completely out of the way.

  He hung up. “Hi, Kate,” he called. He shoved his phone in the pocket of his rugby club hoodie. “You waiting for me?”

  I gave a vague gesture which I hoped implied I’d only waited a brief moment, and I hadn’t in any way been eavesdropping on his conversation. “I just thought I’d tell you about the Pankhurst party. We have a date and venue.”