Chapter 13
TORI
‘This looks a bit like a hand, doesn’t it?’ We’ve got an art session in Enrichment and Emma’s spent hours working on this lump of clay, but despite all her efforts, it’s more reminiscent of some kind of accident. ‘What do you think?’
I just nod because I haven’t the heart to tell her the truth.
Emma might wipe the floor with the rest of us when it comes to sport, but her artistic talents leave a little to be desired.
It’s kind of hilarious how similar she and Henry are in this respect.
His clay sculpture is just as shapeless, but I’m trying not to look in his direction – he’s sitting next to Sinclair.
‘Tori?’
‘Hm?’ I look up.
Emma’s leaning down to take a closer look at my work. ‘Why does yours look so much more realistic?’ She sounds so disillusioned that I start to feel sorry for her.
‘You have to pay attention to the proportions. You haven’t made the fingers long enough, I’m afraid.’
Emma sighs in frustration. ‘I’m sick of this.’
‘It’s still pretty good, Emma.’
She glances past me to where Henry and Sinclair are sitting. ‘I’m going to join the boys’ table and make myself feel better by laughing at Henry’s model,’ she announces cheerily. I make no move to follow her, so she pauses. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m in the zone just now.’
Liar . . . I’ve been staring at my work for at least ten minutes without lifting a finger.
‘Hm.’ Emma sits back down. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What’s the problem?’ she says, not taking her eyes off me. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Why do you say that?’ I ask feebly, but Emma’s too good a judge of character – we’ve barely known each other six months but she can see right through me.
‘You’re upset,’ she says.
I want to cry. My stupid eyes are welling up so I blink a few times. ‘I’m just tired,’ I say, forcing myself to smile.
Emma looks over at Ms Barnett who’s marking tests at the front.
‘Come on,’ she murmurs, nodding at the door. In these Enrichment classes, we’re allowed to chat, and we don’t have to ask permission to leave the room to use the loo.
I follow Emma to the sinks where we wash the clay off our hands. Sinclair glances across and immediately looks away again. As we pass Olive and Grace, Olive keeps her head firmly down. A room full of people who used to be my friends and now hate me. Great.
Emma shuts the door behind us. I don’t know why, but being out in the corridors during lessons still feels kind of out of bounds.
‘So,’ Emma says, as we walk side by side, ‘is this about Sinclair and Eleanor?’
I laugh. ‘What – because they got the main roles? Rubbish. I’m happy for them.’
Emma eyes me sceptically. ‘OK . . . Val, then? Or Olive?’ she adds, and I don’t know why, but her name is like a stab in the chest. For a moment at Sinclair’s party, I felt a bit hopeful, but since then, Olive’s been just as off with me as she has for weeks.
We haven’t even discussed the uniform thing, and I’d hoped the subject might bring us closer together again.
But it looks like we just don’t have anything to say to each other any more.
‘Maybe a bit of everything,’ I admit.
‘I don’t want to interfere in your friendship, but would it help if you and Olive just talked? Just quietly?’
I can clearly hear how carefully Emma’s picking her words. But they still make me angry. I’d love to do that – talk to Olive – but if she doesn’t want to, what can I do? I can’t make her open up to me.
‘Sorry, but no. It’s like we don’t have anything to say to each other.’
‘Do you really mean that?’ Emma asks.
‘OK, not exactly. It’s Olive who doesn’t have anything to say to me. I’d love to talk to her but we hardly ever do. We haven’t even had an actual argument. Suddenly, things were permanently tense, and she’s got more and more withdrawn ever since.’ I feel my throat tighten.
‘Is it possible that Olive’s dealing with some big load of baggage and thinks she can’t tell anyone about it?’
I’m silent for a while. ‘Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any better. We always used to be able to talk about anything.’
‘Sometimes people forget that.’
‘Emma, why are you even sticking up for her? Olive wasn’t exactly nice to you last term.’
Emma stares at her shoes. Then she shrugs her shoulders. ‘I can see myself in her. And I got so much wrong.’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘I could understand why she was angry, and it’s much better now.’
‘Did she ever apologize to you?’ I ask.
‘Not directly. But in her way she did.’ Emma looks at me again. ‘When Henry was in the sick bay, she got them to let me in to see him. It felt like her way of making peace.’
‘It really was.’
‘Maybe something like that could work for you two.’
I sigh quietly. Maybe. But maybe not. The only thing I’m certain of is that, if things carry on like this, I’m going to lose Olive.
And that would kill me. She, Sinclair and Henry are my oldest friends at Dunbridge.
But she’s more than that. She’s the sister I never had.
We’ve never had secrets from each other and it hurts that that’s changed. ‘I hope so,’ I say.
‘Oh.’ Emma looks guiltily over her shoulder as we hear footsteps behind us. It’s Mrs Sinclair coming round the corner with Mr Harper.
Emma glances at me, but they’ve already seen us.
‘Good morning,’ I say, as they walk past. I avoid addressing Mrs Sinclair by name if at all possible. Outside school, I’m allowed to call her Nora, the same way that Sinclair’s on first-name terms with my parents, but here she’s Mrs Sinclair to me, the same as for everyone else.
‘Tori, Emma.’ She gives us a nod. ‘Shouldn’t you two be in class?’
‘We were just heading back,’ Emma says. She’s pretty much the worst liar I know.
I’m sure Mrs Sinclair thinks the same. She studies us briefly. ‘Well, be quick about it, please.’
She continues her conversation with Mr Harper as we walk on.
‘Loos,’ I say, the moment they’re out of earshot.
Emma nods at once.
‘How’s things with your dad?’ I ask.
Emma doesn’t answer right away. It’s a tricky subject, I know. But Emma’s become too good a friend for me to leave it at that. I want to know how she is and what’s up in her life.
‘He’s making an effort,’ she says. ‘Seriously. He messages regularly and asks how I’m doing. We might be meeting up next week. He wants to get to know Henry.’
‘That’s nice,’ I say. Emma’s not looking thrilled. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, it is. I think it’s going to take time. I have to see first if he really means it this time. Otherwise I’m only gonna get hurt again.’
‘That sounds wise.’ And I know what I’m talking about. Getting hurt by someone who doesn’t really mean something is my specialist subject.
‘So everything’s OK with Sinclair?’
Great. She’s not going to drop it till I tell her the truth. I sigh, which is meant to sound irritated, but all at once, I’m on the point of bursting into tears.
‘Oh, Tori,’ Emma murmurs, as it’s getting harder and harder for me to blink away the tears.
‘I don’t think anything’s OK, really.’ I eventually get some words out. ‘Not me and Sinclair either.’
‘Henry says you’re working on the script now too.’ She doesn’t have to say anything else. I’m sure Emma knows exactly how shite that feels.
‘Yeah, I dunno.’ I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. ‘It’s all gone so wrong, Emma. But I shouldn’t care. I can’t expect Sinclair not to like anyone else when I’m dating Val.’
‘Are you happy with Val?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, course. But well . . . Why isn’t it enough for me? Why aren’t I happy, Emma?’
‘Maybe your heart’s trying to tell you something,’ she suggests quietly.
I gulp because I can’t think about that. ‘But it doesn’t matter either way. Sinclair’s into Eleanor. He said so himself.’
‘Come on, Tori, let’s face it – even he doesn’t actually believe that.’
‘Yes, he does. He told me so the night after the New Year Ball, when he was so wrecked.’
Emma looks thoughtfully at me. ‘What are you afraid of?’ she asks in the end.
My chest constricts slightly.
Yeah, OK, what? Everything, to be honest. Of being rejected, of making a fool of myself. Of mistaking friendship for feelings, and of losing Sinclair. ‘I don’t want to break what we have,’ I say. ‘And then there’s Val.’
‘So, are you two together?’ Emma is clearly making an effort to sound neutral.
I shrug. ‘Don’t know. Kind of.’ Even though we’ve barely seen each other lately.
‘And is that what you want?’
Not. A. Clue.
Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more, haven’t done for way too long.
Something about Valentine Ward fascinates me. Maybe just that it’s me he’s paying attention to. But is that enough to be with someone for?
I want to be with Sinclair but that’s not an option.
‘Did you ever try not to like him?’
Emma looks at me thoughtfully. ‘Henry?’
I nod.
‘Of course I tried. The whole time. But I knew it was hopeless. It was destiny, him and me.’
Destiny. It really was. Made for each other, no arguments.
But if that was true for Sinclair and me too, some higher power would have brought us together ages ago by now.
Maybe it really is just time for me to get over Charles Sinclair.
SINCLAIR
I don’t know why, but strolling down to Ebrington with Eleanor after study hour so that we can ‘get to know each other better’ feels like cheating.
The two of us haven’t spent much time out and about alone together before, but this never gets awkward.
Eleanor is just so easy to talk to. She asks me questions and tells me things about her life, as if we’d done this for ever.
I really do like her, I realize – if I hadn’t before – when we’re sitting opposite each other in the Blue Room Café and she pulls out her phone to make a note of the films I’ve been recommending.