Chapter 5
Emma
“. . . Smoking, alcohol, and drugs are strictly forbidden anywhere within the school grounds. And no boys in girls’ rooms after ten o’clock, at which time you must be back in your own wing,” says Ms. Barnett.
“And vice versa, of course. Break these rules once, and you’ll get a warning.
A second time in a term, and you’re facing expulsion. Do you have any questions, Emma?”
I shake my head. I should’ve brought something to write with to note everything down.
“I’m sure it’ll all be a bit confusing at first, but you’ll soon find your feet, don’t worry. And I’m always here if you need me for anything.”
“Thank you,” I say. “My mum said to give you her love. I just spoke to her.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I hope she and Jacob are well,” replies Ms. Barnett.
Ask her. Ask her anything. This is your chance. I’m just opening my mouth when we hear suitcases being wheeled down the corridor. Ms. Barnett immediately turns to the door.
“Well, it sounds like the next batch is arriving.” She smiles. “You’ll soon get to know everyone, Emma.”
As I leave Ms. Barnett’s office, I spot three more girls my age. She’s handing out keys and looks busy, so I head back to my room.
My suitcases are half unpacked, and the mess is making me edgy. Although maybe some of that is the realization that I don’t even know how I’m going to get the information I need about my father. I ought to come up with some questions so that I can get right in there the next time I have a chance.
I’ve only had a minute or two crouching on the floor amid all the chaos, sorting my underwear, when there’s a single short, hard knock and the door flies open.
“Hey, have you seen Bennington? He’s meant to .
. . Oh.” The blond guy who’s just marched into my room stops abruptly when he sees me sitting there.
Me and my knickers. He blushes bright red and stares up at the ceiling.
At least for a second. Then his eyes flit to the door and back to me. “Er, sorry, I thought—”
“Sinclair!” We whirl around at the sound of the outraged voice. A moment later, Tori’s standing in the doorway too.
“What’s the point of knocking if you’re going to walk in without waiting for an answer?”
“I’m sorry but . . .” He looks from me to Tori. “Weren’t you going to have this room?”
“Yeah, but I asked Ms. Barnett if I could swap. Weird vibes, I dunno. It’s better next door. Emma, you might be able to swap too.”
They’re both speaking quickly, and I have trouble following them. “No, I . . . I think I like it,” I falter.
“Are you sure? I could lend you a crystal. That might make it better.”
“You and your crystals! They’re so pointless,” says the blond guy.
Tori glares murderously at him. “Without my pointless crystals, you’d be retaking GCSE maths this year.”
I have to fight back a laugh, because Tori sounds dead serious.
“No, I’d be retaking maths if Henry hadn’t coached me.”
“It was a bit of both,” Tori declares, looking at me. “Emma, are you ready for a tour?”
I nod, bewildered.
“This is Sinclair, by the way,” she says, pointing at the boy.
“Charles,” he adds, smiling at me. I’m totally lost now.
“He’s the head teacher’s son, so everyone just calls him Sinclair, but nobody knows why.” Tori shrugs. “Emma, Sinclair; Sinclair, Emma—the new girl from Germany.”
Charles—or Sinclair, I’m not quite sure what I ought to call him—opens his mouth, but Tori doesn’t let him get a word in. “Spare us your lousy German. Nobody wants to hear you count to ten.”
“Hey,” he protests, but he doesn’t say anything more. He looks away again as he catches another glimpse of my underwear. I hastily shove it under a running top that I’ve just folded. If Tori spotted it, she’s not letting on.
All she says is, “I don’t know where Henry is. He’s not in the girls’ wing anyway.”
“I think he’s with Grace,” I say, and suddenly they’re both looking at me. Sinclair’s expression is confused while Tori is clearly surprised. She pushes past him, shoving him aside by the shoulder.
“Wait, you know Grace?”
“And Henry?” asks Sinclair.
“Yeah, well . . . no, not really. Henry was on my flight. He had to change in Frankfurt, and we got chatting. Grace came to the airport to meet him and took the bus back here with us. I think Henry was just going to take his things up to his room and go back to her house. They were talking about it earlier.”
“That makes sense,” says Sinclair. “Grace is a day girl.”
“She knows that, if they’ve met,” Tori snaps at him. “Don’t you, Emma?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Are you a day pupil too?” I ask Sinclair.
He shakes his head. “No, my dad has a bakery in Ebrington, and we live there. But I like boarding here. I get kind of bored on my own at home.”
“He moved into the dorm to cheer Henry up when he was homesick in the first form,” Tori explains.
“Hey, you cried your eyes out too when you first started, way more than he did,” Sinclair replies drily.
“Yes, but I didn’t have a brother and sister here,” she retorts. I find myself smiling.
Sinclair looks at me. “Well, either way, he has to be back in twenty minutes because he’s got to be at Mum’s welcome assembly. Think Henry’s forgotten?”
“Isn’t he answering his phone?” Tori asks.
“No, he . . .” Sinclair pulls his phone from his trouser pocket. “Oh, wait. He says he’s already there.”
“Oh, yeah, and you thought he’d be here, did you?” murmurs Tori, and I shiver.
“Aren’t I meant to go too?” I blurt. “To the welcome assembly?”
“Oh, bum, yeah.” Tori stares wide-eyed. “Have you got your uniform ready? You have to wear it.”
“Yeah.” Sinclair nods. “And to morning assembly too. That’s every Monday before breakfast, over there in the hall, for Mum to give out important information and notices. The rest of the time you just have to wear the trousers, polo shirt, and jumper. Full uniform’s for special occasions.”
“Such as the welcome assembly. So you need your skirt, blouse, and blazer. Shoo!” Tori shoves Sinclair backward out of my room. “And your hair has to be tied back, unless it’s too short.”
“Got it,” I manage.
“I’ll come back and check that it’s all right in a bit, if you like,” Tori promises. She smiles at me and shuts the door behind her and Sinclair.
I slip out of my jeans and T-shirt and reach for the hanger holding the uniform I’ve just picked up from Ms. Barnett. We had to send the school my measurements in advance so that it could be ordered.
They’re just new clothes, yet I feel like an entirely new Emma when, a little later, I study myself in the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door.
The hem of the blue-and-green-checked pleated skirt ends just above my knees, and I’m wearing dark tights.
I tuck my white blouse neatly into the waistband and knot the tie, which is worn by girls and boys alike.
I like the look, but I’m glad we can swap the uniform for beige or dark-blue trousers, polo shirts, and jumpers most of the time.
I put my hair back in a quick, simple plait. I have to get Tori to show me how to do the fiddly style of plait she’s wearing, but there isn’t time now.
I slip on my blazer and shoes, then open the door. Just as she promised, Tori’s waiting in the corridor. Sinclair’s leaning on the wall beside her, whispering something to her, and they start to giggle. I can’t help smiling, even though I don’t know the joke. Somehow, I like the two of them.
“Oh, perfect.” Tori looks me over. “You can roll the top of your skirt to make it shorter.”
“That’s against the rules, Tori,” says Sinclair.
“Yeah, but you love to see it.”
He blushes and rolls his eyes.
“Let me just check the knot,” murmurs Tori, reaching for my blouse collar and straightening my tie a little. “Very good. This way!”
“Do I need anything else?” I ask, glancing back at my room.
“Only your key,” Tori says as I pick it up. “Great. Oh, you’ll need a lanyard and your student card.” She holds up her own key, which is hanging from a dark-blue fabric strap, printed with the school crest. “But we’ll sort that out later.”
I follow her down the corridor, smiling at all the new faces we pass on our way to the stairs. Tori tells me the names of a dozen girls in our year, and I instantly forget them. My head is already spinning with information.
“Has Valentine arrived yet?” Tori asks us as we walk down the stairs. Of course, I haven’t the least idea who that is, but her supercasual tone tells me she likes him.
“Dunno. Why?” Sinclair replies. His voice is chillier now and he digs his hands into his trouser pockets. “Why should I care when the upper sixth gets here?”
“Just wondering,” mumbles Tori. “If you see him and he mentions me, tell him I said hi.”
“Why would he mention you?”
“It was so funny.” We reach the foot of the stairs and Tori points to her left. “He’s been following me on Insta for a while. A couple of days ago, he liked one of my posts.”
“Wow, that makes you practically an item.”
She simply ignores Sinclair and looks at me. “So then I liked his latest post. And he’s liked my last two. You don’t do that if you’re not interested in a person, do you, Emma?”
“I don’t think so. Sounds like he’s been stalking you,” I reply, because she seems to expect it.
“You see.” Tori turns proudly to Sinclair.
“Yeah, great. So now you reckon he’s into you.”
“You think he isn’t? He DMed me after that.”
“What did he want?” Sinclair asks, without looking at Tori.
“He asked how my holidays were.” She seems to be holding back a sigh.
“The guy’s a tool,” Sinclair tells me.
“Hey!” Tori glares at him.
“No, really. Just keep away from the upper sixth. They’re so arrogant.”
“Apart from Eleanor Attenborough, huh?” I might not have known Tori long but there’s no mistaking the hint of mockery in her voice. Sinclair glances sharply at her. “In the fourth form, he was in undying love with her,” she explains.