Chapter 6
Emma
After Mrs. Sinclair’s talk, Henry took me and the others along to the school office.
Mr. Harper, with snow-white hair and alert brown eyes, handed each of us a dark-blue bag with the school logo on it.
Inside, we found everything we’d need for everyday life at the school: the lanyard and student card, our timetables, and a planner with a map of the school buildings.
I didn’t have much time to look at it before Henry brought me back to the girls’ wing after a quick tour of the grounds.
He’d advised me always to use the church spire to get my bearings, because it marked the center of the school.
That tip has helped me no longer feel totally lost—although it would be an exaggeration to say I know my way around now.
There’s a new building next to the west wing, which houses the school hall and modern science rooms. There are more classrooms in the north wing, behind which are the sports facilities.
I’m thrilled that, as well as a sports hall, there’s a proper fitness center and pool, and a stadium with an all-weather running track circling the rugby pitch.
To the left-hand side of the playing fields, there’s a path to the vegetable garden and greenhouses, which are close to the stables and riding hall.
It’s huge. Gigantic fields and meadows that stretch down to a wood.
There must be some great runs around here.
I’d love to change out of my uniform and straight into my running gear the moment I get back to my room.
But it’s dinnertime soon, and I don’t want to be late.
“I could take this as an insult, you know,” Tori declares when she knocks for me a little later to walk down to the dining room together. “I wanted to show you around, and Henry could have guessed that.”
“To be fair, he did offer first,” I say, locking my door, “when we were on the plane.”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Well, I don’t think that’s fair, Emma.” I have no chance to reply, because a few meters down the corridor, she stops to hammer on another door.
She grins as we hear a muffled “Just a sec!”
“Come on!” Tori yells. “Or at least tell us what you’re doing in there, Ms. Henderson.” She takes a step back as the door flies open.
“You’re impossible, Victoria.” The girl glares at her in annoyance.
“Your hair’s still down,” Tori remarks, unimpressed. “And wet.”
“Yeah, ’cause you’re stressing me.”
“Have you been swimming?” Tori asks.
“Obviously. The championship heats are in four weeks,” she says, shutting her door behind her. As we walk down the corridor, she pulls her long brown hair back with her hand and glances at me.
“This is Emma,” says Tori, before I can introduce myself. “She’s new.”
“Ah.” Tori’s friend eyes me. “I’m Olive, hi.” She doesn’t sound unfriendly, but she’s not smiling. Maybe that’s just because she’s concentrating on putting her hair into a fishtail plait in record time.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say.
“What’s your star sign?” Tori asks, out of nowhere.
“Er, Aries.”
Tori scrutinizes me, then nods decisively, as if that had been the only correct answer to her question.
“And your rising sign?”
“My what?”
“There are websites where you can look it up. You just have to know the exact time when you were born.”
“I’d have to ask my mum,” I say.
“Then we can look it up together,” Tori says. “I think you have kind of a Libra energy. So maybe that’s your ascendant. Just a hunch. I think you two are going to get on. Olive is a pure Scorpio, but she’s very nice really.”
Olive tosses the finished plait back over her shoulder and looks sharply at Tori.
“I’m a Leo,” Tori adds. She’s gazing expectantly at me, so I nod like I understand, even though I have no clue what that’s meant to tell me about her. “And my rising sign is Gemini. Like Val’s.”
“I thought Geminis were arseholes,” Olive observes.
“Hey!”
“That’s what you said before the holidays. That they were two-faced.”
“Some of them.” Tori sighs. “But my rising sign isn’t very strong. And Val’s definitely Gemini with an Aquarius vibe.”
“Sinclair’s Aquarius, isn’t he?” Olive says.
“Yeah, he’s totally an air sign.”
“I keep telling you, Sinclair’s a much better match for you.”
“Yeah, he’s sweet,” Tori agrees. “Right, Emma?”
“Um, yeah, he—he seems really nice.” And he’s the head teacher’s son, I remember—the head I have so much respect for. I’d better watch what I say now.
“No way could I date him, though,” Tori continues. “I cleared up after he boaked on that sailing trip in the first form, and he knows all my secrets.”
“He’s your soulmate. That’s a good starting point,” says Olive.
“No, no, no danger. Sinclair’s like a brother. It’d be like being into Will.” Tori pulls a face. We join a stream of girls heading from the west wing down the corridor toward the dining room.
“Is Will your brother?” I ask.
Tori nods. “Yeah, he’s in the year below us. You’ll see him at dinner.”
“Will’s very sweet too,” Olive adds.
“He’s too young for you, Olive.”
“Actually, we’re the same age, remember?”
“Anyway, I’m not having it. And he’s got a crush on this lad Kit in his form. Couldn’t talk about anyone else all summer.”
“Do I know him?” asks Olive.
“He’s not a boarder, he’s an Irvine. His parents run the shop, and he’s an Aquarius too, obviously. I mean, he wears leather jackets and smokes in secret,” Tori says. “If you ever need anything, that place sells everything, Emma. I’ll show you when we go to Ebrington.”
“Oh, does he help out there sometimes?” Olive straightens slightly. “I know who you mean then. Will ought to get together with him—they’d make such a cute couple.”
“You’re right.” Tori falls silent as we head for the dining room, and I stop myself wondering about Henry’s star sign. I don’t believe in astrology, so why should I care? No way he’s a Gemini, though, whatever that means.
The murmur of voices and laughter floats through the large double doors and mingles with the echo of our footsteps on the stone floor.
I gasp involuntarily as we enter the hall.
The stained-glass windows at the far end make it very clear that this used to be a church.
Golden evening light falls onto the old stone tiles and the countless tables of dark wood, where loads of pupils are already sitting.
There are chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, and to the right of the door is a serving hatch, with a tempting aroma wafting from it.
I follow Tori and Olive down the central aisle.
The tables seem to be allocated by age group.
The long ones at the front are occupied by intimidated-looking juniors, but everyone behind them seems more relaxed.
Tori and Olive head toward the back, and my heart skips treacherously as I spot Henry.
He’s sitting next to Sinclair, and they’re deep in conversation with another guy, making wild hand gestures.
“Stop havering, Omar!” Sinclair yells, giving him a playful punch on the forearm.
Henry looks up as we sit down opposite him.
His lips form a silent “Hi,” and I feel calmer.
At that moment, the dining-room doors are shut.
Conversation ebbs away, and complete silence falls as a gong sounds.
The others stand up, so I copy them. I can see Mrs. Sinclair right at the front, by the staff tables.
She waits a moment, then nods, and we sit.
“Nice to see you all again,” she says once there’s a hush. Her voice has a somewhat solemn tone. “I know some of you have had a long journey and that you’re all hungry, so all I will say is: Welcome back to Dunbridge Academy, and enjoy your meal.”
I join in the applause and glance at Tori.
“Oldest first,” she explains, over the noise, nodding at the tables next to us where the upper sixth are standing up.
“And after today, there’ll be a table-duty rota, which changes every week.
When it’s your turn, you have to be here a bit early to get everything ready for everyone else.
And in return, the rest of the time, you get to sit down with the table already laid. ”
I nod.
“Hey, everyone, this is Emma!” Tori calls to the table in general. I look into a sea of smiling faces and raise my hand to greet them.
“Hi, Emma,” people say around me. I’m glad they haven’t all told me their names. There’s no way I’d remember them all right now.
“Don’t worry about everyone’s names,” says Henry, as if he’d read my mind. “You’ll pick them up by osmosis in lessons.”
“What subjects are you doing?” Tori asks, beside me.
“English, maths, and PE,” I say, “plus chemistry and history.”
“PE?” Tori groans. “God, Emma, do you know what that means?”
“No.”
“A morning run, every day, before breakfast.”
“Doesn’t everyone have to do that anyway?”
Tori shrugs. “Yeah, but you guys get marked down if you don’t turn up. I skive as often as I can.”
“Like Ms. Barnett’s going to fall for you having period pain every week,” murmurs Sinclair.
“Yeah, but there’s hay fever too, you know,” Tori reminds him cheerfully.
He raises his eyebrows. “Not at this time of year there isn’t.”
“For my hay fever there is,” she retorts.
“Grace and I are doing PE too,” says Olive. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but she still sounds kind of cold. I’m not the only person to notice it because Henry gives her a funny look, then turns to me.
“I’m doing English, maths, biology, chemistry, and Latin,” he says, unprompted.
“An interesting combination,” I say.
Henry nods. “I couldn’t choose between humanities and science, and I’ve got another year before I have to drop a couple.”
“He still can’t admit to himself that he wants to be a doctor,” says Sinclair. “Like his parents. His brother and sister are studying medicine too.”
“Bollocks. I’m going to be a teacher,” Henry retorts promptly.
“Really?” I blurt.
Henry nods. “Ideally, I’d like to come back and teach here one day.”
“You could come back as a doctor too,” says Olive shortly.
“Her dad’s the school doctor,” Tori explains. “He’s a GP in Edinburgh and looks after the sick bay here on the side.”
“But you still board here?” I ask Olive.
She glances briefly at me. “Obviously. Why else would you have knocked for me just now?”
“I know.” I swallow. “I just meant . . .”
“Quite a few people have family in Edinburgh,” Henry explains hurriedly, “so they could get the bus here every day, but most of them find it more convenient to board and go home at weekends.”
“Oh, right.” Olive’s looking back at her phone, so I don’t say anything more.
“Anyway, I don’t want to be a doctor,” Henry explains. “I see from my parents what a stressful job it is.”
“My dad’s seriously chill.” Olive shrugs, not looking up.
“Just wait for the rugby season to start—that’ll keep him busy.” Omar’s laughing, but Henry looks kind of tense now.
Once the upper sixth have come back to their seats with full plates, it’s our turn. I can feel the younger kids watching me as we walk up to the hatch. Henry’s constantly saying hi to someone or waving to people, and it feels weird to walk back with him, Tori, Sinclair, and Olive.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was still in Frankfurt and everything was normal. I was Emma with the British name, Emma with no dad. Emma, Noah’s ex.
I’m still Emma, but it’s totally up to me who I’ll be here. And there’s something I really like about that.