Chapter 10 #2
“You’re so cringeworthy, Charles,” I hear William grumble, which makes me laugh.
He’s the first person, apart from the teachers, I’ve heard call Sinclair by his first name.
The way they act around each other, you’d think he and Sinclair were brothers too.
“But yeah, Kit brought something from the shop.”
“I love him,” declares Sinclair, reaching for the bottle that Will’s clasping.
His eyes keep flitting over to Kit, who seems older than the rest of us.
But maybe that’s just down to the cigarette wedged oh so casually behind his left ear.
When he suddenly glances our way, William casts his eyes down, like he’s been caught out.
“There are no glasses, I’m afraid,” says Sinclair, passing me another bottle.
I hesitate for a moment, then take it.
“You don’t have to,” says Tori at once. She doesn’t make any move to drink any herself. Instead, she’s watching skeptically as Sinclair lifts the bottle to his lips.
“Have you ever been caught?” I ask, remembering the school rules that Ms. Barnett had listed the day I arrived. No alcohol anywhere on the school grounds. That’s nonnegotiable.
Sinclair and Tori exchange a brief glance. “Yeah, once,” he admits. “But that was three years ago. They’re stricter when you’re young. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t know.” Maybe they’re stricter with everyone who isn’t the head’s son. Mind you, I can’t imagine she’d let anyone give Sinclair special treatment on her account. “I don’t want to get into trouble in my first week.”
“Henry, have you been brainwashing her?” Sinclair sighs, handing the bottle on to Olive.
“Very funny.”
His voice . . . Jeez, girl, cool it.
I try to smile as I turn to face him. Friendly but not too friendly. Pleased-to-see-a-classmate friendly. No more. I fail the moment I realize Henry’s already looking at me. A few strands of his dark hair are peeking out from under his hood.
“Did we wake you?” Tori asks. Henry glares sharply at her. On a closer look, he does seem kind of tired. Maybe it’s still the jetlag that isn’t jetlag. I hand the bottle on to Salome.
“Aye, and guess who had to climb in through the window to do it? Yours truly.” Sinclair flits past me and comes to stand next to Tori.
“Me too,” she says. Sinclair looks puzzled. “To wake Emma, I mean.”
“Through the window?”
“No, I had to knock for her. Just as well Ms. Barnett didn’t hear.”
“Aren’t you in the WhatsApp group?” Sinclair asks me, and I shake my head.
“Your number got smudged,” I tell Henry, not thinking, “or I’d have texted you.”
Olive, Tori, and Sinclair are all looking at him. The look Tori and Sinclair give each other speaks volumes, while Olive is eyeing Henry derisively.
“Oh, right,” he mumbles. “I did wonder.”
“Anyway, tell me your number, and I’ll share it in the group,” Tori announces when the silence between us gets awkward.
Soon after that, I’m a member of “Midnight Memories,” with its three moon emojis.
There are fourteen in the group, and I can’t shake off the feeling that not all of them want me.
I feel Olive’s eyes on me as I stand with Henry, Tori, and Sinclair.
She’s sitting on one of the tatty old armchairs, tapping on her phone, as she watches me.
It’s only when Grace walks into the greenhouse with a couple of others that she stands up.
Henry vanishes to say hi to them. I’m nervous, even though I have no reason to be.
“Hey, Emma.” I jump when Grace speaks to me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d like to come along to the track team next week. Henry says you did athletics at home.”
I’m burning up. Is this a trap? Why’s she being so friendly? Olive must have been telling her about the Henry’s-number thing, right? Or wasn’t she?
“Oh, yeah, I—I was in a club in Frankfurt,” I stutter.
“Cool,” she says, with a smile. “We train three times a week, out on the grounds if possible. Monday at five, if you like.”
“Oh, that’s . . . Thank you. I’d love to come.”
“We’d love to have you,” says Grace, turning away.
How can she be so nice? I don’t get it, and it’s not exactly helping me feel any better.
Grace is stunning. She’s kind, clever, and dedicated.
She’s perfect for Henry because he’s all those things too.
And as for me, what am I even doing here?
She’s just perched on the arm of the chair that Henry’s sitting in.
He puts his arm around her, but they don’t kiss.
Maybe they’re not the kind who have to advertise that they’re a couple.
Noah liked to do that. Making out in front of the others at parties, even if I didn’t really feel comfortable.
I hastily glance away as Henry looks toward me.
I spend a while chatting to Amara and Salome, who tell me about their families in India and the US.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Grace and Henry standing up a while later.
They’re probably about to slip off together.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I see Henry nod, then lay his hand on her cheek and kiss her.
A bit later, Grace waves to everyone and slips out through the glass door.
Is she off home again? When I pull out my phone, I see we’ve been here almost an hour and a half already.
“So how’s your first midnight party?”
Startled, I hurriedly put my phone away. When I glance up again, it’s right into Henry’s face. His skin looks so soft. It’s not fair.
“Very cool,” I say, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. Wow, what an original answer, Emma. But Henry just smiles and digs his hands into his jacket pockets. He looks like he’d rather be back in bed than hanging around here. “Just kind of late . . .”
He laughs. “I know, right?”
“You’re such wusses,” remarks Sinclair as he pushes past us with a bottle and a bag of crisps.
“Just ignore him,” says Henry.
“Has Grace gone home?” I ask, regretting it that very second. God, what’s that got to do with me?
Henry hesitates a moment. He’s probably wondering the same thing. But then he nods. “Yeah, she was tired. She’s not really the type for midnight parties.”
“But you are?”
He grins. “You just mustn’t go to sleep beforehand, that’s the trick.”
“That’s where we both went wrong, I guess.”
“Looks like it.” He smiles. “How’s your week been?”
He has to ask that. He’s school captain and a prefect, and it’s not like he’s personally interested. I can’t forget that.
“Stressful, but good,” I say. Stay calm, Emma. It’s perfectly simple.
“Lots to take in, huh?”
Oh, God, there’s no way I can stay calm if he’s going to look at me like that—the hint of a smile on his lips and his head slightly to one side.
“You could say that.”
The music goes off, and we turn at the same time.
My blood runs cold. Did the teachers hear the noise of the party? Are they on their way? But the others are still chatting, unfazed.
“Who’s going to take over the music?” Sinclair looks around. He catches Henry’s eye. “Not you.”
I laugh as he pulls a face. “Why not him?” I ask.
Sinclair looks like he’d been waiting for that question. “He listens to the stuff at the top of the charts.”
I frown. “So? So do I sometimes . . .”
“No, not sometimes, Emma,” says Sinclair. “Always. All fucking day.”
“You only listen to chart stuff?” I ask Henry.
“And the top one hundred on Spotify sometimes.”
“Which is basically the same thing,” murmurs Sinclair.
“But why? I don’t get it,” I say.
“I don’t get it either,” says Sinclair. He turns to me. “I’m telling you, count yourself lucky your room’s in the other wing.”
“Hey, I practically always have headphones on,” Henry says.
“Yeah, but I still see it in your friend feed on Spotify. Minging.”
“But Emma can do that from the girls’ wing too, if she adds me.”
“Oh, yeah, true. Whatever. Anyway, it’s a disgrace.”
“Hey, that’s taste-shaming.” Henry sounds genuinely insulted.
“The charts epitomize the absence of taste,” declares Sinclair. “And the top one hundred is basically the same thing.”
Henry looks at me, offended, but I’m afraid I have to agree with Sinclair as he heads off toward the sound system.
“It’s not my fault,” Henry says. “There’s so much music out there, I don’t know where to start.”
I can’t help laughing. “There are ready-made playlists. ‘Autumn Moods,’ ‘Workout Songs,’ anything you like.”
“Yeah, but there are too many of them too.”
“Do you ever listen to your Discover Weekly?” I ask.
Henry frowns. “What’s that?”
I sigh. “Oh, wow . . .”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing. Do you listen to music while you run?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I always avoided running until now.”
“Oh, yeah, right. I can put something together for you for training. With some charts stuff in it too, I promise. I even use my playlists to pace my runs. That’s perfect for me—I can have slower songs for gentle runs and faster ones for tempo efforts.
I’ll share them with you. Although to start off, it’s better to run without music so you can concentrate on your breathing. ”
Henry doesn’t seem convinced.
“Are you going to train with Grace?” I ask. “I bet she knows all the tricks too.”
“Maybe. We’ll see. She’s really busy.”
Before I can say anything, Tori wraps her arms around me and drags us off to play a kind of truth or dare. Except that all the dares involve drinking, so for her, Henry, me, and a few others who don’t drink alcohol, there’s only the truth option.
As a result, I learn that Sinclair would rather be able to talk to animals than speak loads of languages, and that a guy called Omar always cries at Disney films.
“Seriously?” Sinclair asks. “Disney?”
“Totally, man. Haven’t you ever seen Brother Bear?”
“I love Brother Bear.” Tori sighs.
“That’s masochism, but hey, whatever.”
Tori rolls her eyes and leans around to me. “Sinclair’s the artsy type—he loves all those weird classics. Dead Poets Society, The Dreamers, you know the stuff . . .”