Chapter 28
Henry
It must have been humiliating to have to blow into that breathalyzer in front of Mr. Acevedo and Ms. Barnett, as if they were the police.
So I suppose it’s lucky that I can’t remember much about it.
To be precise, I don’t even remember how I got down off that roof.
The only thing that’s burned onto my memory is the moment when Mr. Ward suddenly came around the corner. He caught us red-handed.
Ms. Barnett was annoyed. Mr. Acevedo was disappointed, which is actually way worse, although there was so much alcohol in my bloodstream that I didn’t really take it in.
Mr. Acevedo forced me to spend the night in the sick bay, where I puked up my soul a few hours later.
My guilty conscience didn’t strike until this morning, hand in hand with the droning headache that’s making me only too aware of how badly I overdid things last night.
I don’t even know what I was thinking when I forced Sinclair to come and drink with me.
I just wanted not to feel anything, and this time, it actually worked.
For a few hours at least. But it’s turned into an utter catastrophe.
Emma, Tori, Sinclair, Omar, Gideon, and I have been summoned to Mrs. Sinclair’s office instead of lessons.
My whole body is fighting against stepping through the door and lining up with the others.
Standing upright is enough of an effort, and the light is too bright.
Mrs. Sinclair is standing in front of her desk.
She’s as mad as hell, you can see that. She’s trying to keep calm, but her eyes are spraying sparks as she walks up and down in front of us.
Because we broke three school rules in one.
We were drinking, we were out after wing time, and we were up on the roof, which is totally out of bounds. So yeah, we’ve genuinely screwed up.
“You can count yourselves lucky that nobody was injured by that bottle.” Mrs. Sinclair eyes each of us in turn. “Such large quantities of alcohol, I really would have thought you’d have more sense.”
“It’s my fault,” I say. My head aches. “I talked Sinclair—uh, Charles—and Gideon into it. It was me who started it all. And Omar, Tori, and Emma didn’t drink anything.”
“That may well be so, Henry, but they were still caught out of their rooms after quiet time.” I open my mouth, but she doesn’t let me speak. Sinclair glances warningly at me; Emma’s standing stock-still beside me. “And you all know what that means.”
“Mum,” Sinclair breathes, barely audibly, but she shakes her head.
“And I’m sorry, but there are rules at this school, and you have broken them. You will have to take the consequences of that. So I’m giving all of you a warning. You are all aware of what that means?”
I swallow hard. Breaking the rules again this term will mean big trouble. I’d never have dreamed that those words would ever be said to me. And even so, it doesn’t bother me half as much as I suppose it ought to.
“On top of which, each of you is to take on an extra cleaning or kitchen duty from now until the end of the month. Report to your houseparents at break time and they will allocate them.”
I ought to be punished harder than the others. I drank the most, and I’m aware that Mrs. Sinclair is only going easy on me because she can see that I wasn’t boozing for fun.
“Very well. That will be all.” She straightens her shoulders. “Go back to class now.” I’m about to turn away when she continues. “Apart from Henry.”
I don’t want anything more. I just want peace and quiet; I want to sleep and never wake up again.
Emma’s eyes meet mine. She looks worried, but I just nod toward the door.
“Sit down,” says Mrs. Sinclair as Omar shuts the door. She takes a seat behind her desk and studies me for a moment. “I think we both know what a warning means for you as school captain.”
I shiver. Well, that’s that, then. Job over. Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that.
There’s a tiny moment of panic before it’s replaced by indifference. The same way that I’ve been indifferent to everything in recent weeks. So what? I’ll resign. That’d probably be better for everyone.
“Henry?”
I don’t know if Mrs. Sinclair can see inside my head, but she seems to have been expecting something else. For me to beg her not to do it. What do I know?
“I should resign,” I say. That’s all.
Mrs. Sinclair gives me a long look. “And you’re really telling me that that means nothing to you?”
“It does mean something,” I lie. “I made a mistake, and I’m truly sorry. Especially because I didn’t want the others to get into trouble because of me.”
“I know that, Henry. And because I understand how very difficult this situation is for you, I won’t insist on any further consequences. That, and because I value you a great deal as school captain.”
Now I should probably feel flattered. It’s almost a shame. “Thanks,” I say. It’s ridiculous.
“But that isn’t why I asked you to stay behind,” she continues. I’m fearing the worst, which proves correct. “How are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I feel that horrible pressure behind my eyeballs. But I don’t cry. “Doing fine. Thank you.”
Mrs. Sinclair is still giving me a look. “That is not entirely the impression I’m getting.”
What does she expect? Maeve’s dead. Of course I’m not doing fine, but if I say it out loud, it’ll make it real.
“In your last English test, you handed in a blank sheet of paper.”
I just shrug my shoulders.
“Why didn’t you speak to Mr. Ward?”
“What could he have done?”
“He could have let you off the test altogether and given you more time to catch up, as you know.”
I say nothing.
“Henry, we all want to do whatever we can so as not to make things harder for you, but you have to work with us on that. You need to speak to us so that we can help you.”
I don’t have to do anything and I don’t need help, I think. And then I say, “I know. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t intended as a telling-off. I understand that things aren’t easy for you. You know that Ms. Vail’s door is always open to you?”
I nod. If I speak, I’ll burst into tears. So I don’t speak.
“And if it all gets to be too much for you, we can give you permission to go home for a while.”
Go home . . . Which home? Mum and Dad are back on the project; Theo’s busy at uni and we’re barely in touch. I could go to my grandparents in Cheshire, but what would I do there? Visit Maeve’s grave? Fantastic.
“I spoke to Mr. Ward. Ideally, you’d need to take part in the maths exam next week. He’s planning on running a two-hour mock A level. Do you feel up to it?”
“Yes.” The word slips out. “Totally. In English I had . . . some kind of blackout, I don’t know.”
Mrs. Sinclair doesn’t believe a word of it. I can see that in her eyes. But I can’t do anything else.
“Fine, Henry. That’ll be all.” She looks at me. “I’m here anytime if you want to talk to me. About anything at all.”
Emma
I still can’t believe we got caught last night and had to line up in Mrs. Sinclair’s office this morning.
Since then, Henry and I haven’t had a chance to talk.
I’d thought we’d have time after the scolding, but Mrs. Sinclair asked him to stay behind.
I can only guess at what she wanted to talk to him about.
I say goodbye to Tori, who has French now, while I head toward the science block for chemistry.
I knock and open the door, but instead of Ms. Ventura, Mr. Ward is sitting behind the desk.
I hesitate, but as I look around the class and see everyone who ought to be there, I pull myself together and realize he must be filling in for her.
“Sorry I’m late. I was with Mrs. Sinclair,” I mumble, setting my phone down in an empty pigeonhole.
“I suspected as much.” Mr. Ward looks down at the books he’s marking. The others are doing prep or other work.
“Ms. Ventura’s not well,” Salome whispers as I sit down.
I unpack my things. I’m longing to text Henry and ask him what Mrs. Sinclair wanted. But that’ll have to wait for the end of the period when I’ve got my phone back.
I pull out my history prep, but my attention keeps wandering.
When the bell goes for break, I haven’t made much progress.
I put my books away again and follow the others outside.
As always, a little traffic jam builds because everyone wants to start sending snaps right away or else check to see what earth-shattering news has come in over the last hour, just as if all their friends hadn’t been phoneless for the same length of time and thus unable to message them.
But I’m no better, because my first move is to see if Henry’s texted.
He hasn’t. Does that mean he’s still pissed off with me?
I’m not sure if he remembers everything.
After all, he was wasted. Either way, I want to talk to him, ask him what last night was all about.
He wasn’t himself, evidently, but we can’t go on like this.
Since Maeve died, it’s like he’s slipping further and further away from me.
“Ms. Wiley.” I jump as I hear Mr. Ward’s voice. He’s emerging from the classroom and nodding to one side with his head. I follow him. “I’ve been making appointments for the feedback sessions. Kindly come to my office next Wednesday at five.”
I relax slightly as he doesn’t broach the subject of last night. “I will.”
“Do you know where that is?” he asks.
“No.”
“Room 2350 in the old building.”
“2350?” I repeat, resisting the urge to dig out my planner and write it down. Wednesday, five o’clock. 2350. Don’t forget.
“Yes. You’ll find the self-assessment form online, on the student portal. Please fill it in and bring it with you. And be on time.”
He turns away before I can nod. I look back at my phone, then enter the appointment and room number in my calendar app. Just before I finish, a message from Henry pings in at the top of the screen.
H: Are you free?