Chapter 5 #2
“Oh, man, everyone had a crush on Ellie,” mumbles Sinclair. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Valentine’s an arse. Hardly surprising, with an uncle like Mr. Ward. I’ll pray you don’t get him as a teacher, Emma.”
“Mr. Ward is dire,” agrees Tori. “But Valentine can’t help his family.”
“No, he just runs squealing to him about every little thing, and there’s no way he’d be rugby captain without him.”
“He’s rugby captain because he’s class!”
“Puh-lease.”
“What do you know about it?” mutters Tori.
We turn a corner, and Sinclair stops with a bunch of guys who greet him loudly.
Tori leads me up another staircase and down two more corridors.
I’ve lost all sense of direction by the time she stops outside an open set of double doors; next to them on the wall is a sign reading, “Head Teacher’s Office. ”
“Here you are.” She glances through an outer office to another door, also open, beyond which I can hear quiet voices.
“Mrs. Sinclair’s office is here, to the left, and the assembly will be next door in the hall.
Go right in. You’re not the only newbie.
Can you find your way back, or shall I come and meet you? ”
I’d normally decline at once. I don’t want to get on Tori’s nerves, but right now, I’m not at all sure that I’d ever find my room again. I’m just opening my mouth to speak when I feel a light touch on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show her the way back.”
“Hey, there he is!” Tori beams as Henry appears beside us, now in uniform too. My silly, treacherous heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice. “How was your flight? You look knackered, Bennington.”
Henry laughs and gives her a hug. “Wow, thanks a bunch, Tori. You’re too kind.”
“It’s all true.” She smiles at him, and her teasing expression shows me what close friends they are.
“How about you? Good journey back? How were the holidays?”
“Yeah, great.” Tori shoves Henry and me toward the door. “I’ll tell you later. You’ve got a hot date.”
I enter the room. Henry laughs and runs a hand through his freshly washed curls. In all other respects, he does look bleary. Even so, his eyes are infinitely green. I was right. He looks way too good in this uniform.
We walk into the hall, where the new pupils are sitting in rows of chairs. Most of them are superyoung, but I spot a few older faces further back.
“Does it matter where I sit?” I ask.
“No, no.” Henry turns to me. “Sit anywhere you like.”
I head down the central aisle to the back and sit in a free seat, while Henry stays at the front.
He’s talking to a much younger girl, and I take the chance to watch him inconspicuously. The dark-blue blazer fits his slim torso like a second skin.
When Henry’s eyes meet mine, I hastily look away. I hope he didn’t notice I was watching him.
I mustn’t be so pleased to see him. I force myself to remember Grace’s hands in his hair.
Her lips on his and Henry’s beaming face when he saw her.
God, it’s so messed up that I’m wasting this much headspace on him.
I’ve just been through a breakup, and I don’t plan to let anyone else play with my emotions like that any time soon.
So what’s my stupid heart up to, fluttering like that at the first guy I’ve met here? It’s just not fair.
Henry greets every new pupil like he’s genuinely thrilled to see them here. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s everywhere and making it all look so easy. He even manages to get the little kids smiling shyly and not looking quite so scared.
Henry straightens his shoulders a touch as a blond woman in her forties enters the room.
His eyes flicker along the rows of chairs, and I get the message.
I stand up with the others. My heart beats faster as Mrs. Sinclair shuts the door, gives Henry a nod and a smile, and comes to stand at the front of the room.
It was never this quiet at my school when the head gave a talk, and I’m suddenly feeling ashamed of that. It has something to do with respect.
Mrs. Sinclair’s eyes rest on each of us in turn.
When she looks at me, I can barely hold back a gulp.
I want to make a good impression. I don’t know why that matters so much to me.
She studies me, and somehow I feel like she’s looking at me longer than the others.
At that moment, the question pops into my head.
Does she know my father? She’s about my parents’ age; if she went to school here too, she might.
I wish I could ask her right now, but of course, that’s not an option.
Mrs. Sinclair smiles and nods to us to sit down again. She waits until the scraping of chair legs has stopped and there’s quiet.
“On behalf of all the staff, I’d like to wish you all a very warm welcome to Dunbridge Academy.”
Henry
It’s the second time I’ve heard Mrs. Sinclair’s welcome speech, but I’m no less impressed than I was back in the first form. Quite the reverse. Once she’s introduced me to everyone as school captain and their first port of call if they have any problems, I glance casually over the rows of seats.
It feels like it was just yesterday that I was sitting there.
Maeve on my left, holding my hand, Theo on my right, rolling his eyes because I’d been crying again.
We’d just arrived from Jordan, where my parents were stationed at the time.
I hadn’t a clue what would be in store for me at this Scottish boarding school because, although my family is British, this country had never been home to me.
I was born in Cape Town, and I’d been to school in five different countries.
Until I arrived here, I didn’t know what it was like to have a permanent home.
Or that home isn’t just people but places too.
Just like then, the new arrivals are listening to Mrs. Sinclair with rapt faces.
Her aura, straight posture, and precisely tied-back hair don’t allow you to whisper or crack jokes in her presence.
At moments like these, she isn’t my best friend’s mum; she’s the head teacher of the school that made me the person I am today.
Emma’s sitting one row from the back. Seeing how intently she’s listening makes me smile.
“I’m sure that when you think about school, you think about grades,” says Mrs. Sinclair.
“And yes, you will sit exams here too, but as I see it, your academic results are not the most important thing. At Dunbridge Academy, our main aim is to instill values and build character. One day, you will leave this school and go out into the world. For some of you, that won’t be for a few years yet, while for others, you are within touching distance of your final exams.” She pauses and her eyes flick to me, which gives me goose bumps.
“When that day comes, I hope you will have positive memories of your time here with us to look back on, and that you will feel fortified and strong. Use your time at this school to sharpen your minds and broaden your horizons. You will have to be disciplined and work hard to get to grips with day-to-day life at Dunbridge Academy. Some of you will find that easier than others. You will have to deal with failures and setbacks. But you should always be aware that at my school, your fellow pupils are not rivals but allies.”
Mrs. Sinclair is silent for a moment. Through the closed windows, I can hear voices and quiet laughter outside.
“The pupils who make us proudest are those who leave Dunbridge Academy as young adults who stand up for themselves and for their fellow humans. To me, outstanding exam results and places at the top universities are less important than walking mindfully through this life and being kind, getting to know yourselves better, and growing. If you achieve that during your time with us, then, in my view, you will have succeeded.”
You could have heard a pin drop, and I hardly dare breathe. I feel a warmth in my belly as I see Emma nodding. For some reason, I’m certain she will succeed in all the things Mrs. Sinclair is talking about. Even if she’s only here for a year.
“It is in your own hands,” says Mrs. Sinclair, pacing a few steps to and fro in front of the first row of seats, “as to whether this time will be the best or the worst period of your life. I demand just one thing of you: Make the most of it.”