Chapter 30
Emma
The next morning, Henry comes down to breakfast for the first time in ages, and eats.
I don’t know if seeing that as a good sign is me being naive, but it makes me happy.
Even though it reminds me that even in biology, he only got a C, and it’s his best subject.
It’s making my stomach ache because I’m sure it means he needs to do well in our maths exam to keep his grades on track for uni.
I decide to ask him later if he’d like to go through some past papers together in the next few days.
He’s got rugby training as I head to my appointment with Mr. Ward in the afternoon.
It would be the understatement of the century to say I’m not looking forward to it.
I did surprisingly well on the English test, but Mr. Ward still doesn’t miss any opportunity to put me down.
At least the last few weeks haven’t given me much time to wonder what might have happened between him and my dad.
There were more important things to worry about.
I tuck an unruly strand of hair behind my ear and knock on the dark wood of Mr. Ward’s office door. Nobody answers and I strain to hear any sound behind it. Maybe the door is too thick for me to be able to hear him in there. All the same, I knock again, then press down on the handle.
It’s a small room with a north-facing window. Filing cabinets, and a desk in the center. No sign of Mr. Ward.
“Hello?” I take a step into the office and look again.
Did I get the wrong room? Room 2350: That’s what Mr. Ward said.
I walk out into the corridor to check the little plaque next to the door.
No, I’m in the right place. Maybe he’ll be here in a minute.
I turn and glance inside again. When I catch sight of the pile of papers on the desk, neatly stacked beside books, exercise books, and a water bottle, I freeze. Then I step closer.
Lower 6th mathematics: Mock A-level examination
Hold on . . .
This is our exam. The paper we’re going to sit on Friday.
I immediately retreat to the doorway. Why has Mr. Ward left them just lying around like that? I glance hastily over my shoulder, but the corridor is empty.
Shit . . . If he sees I was on my own in this room, he’s bound to assume I read the exam papers. I break out in a cold sweat. Could you be chucked out for that? I have to get out of here and shut the door and wait a few meters down the hall as if I’d . . .
Or I could . . .
No.
No, no, no. No way. It’s just a single thought but it’s getting louder in my head.
C’mon, Emma. Now or never. There’s nobody here.
Think of Henry. Think of the way he’s screwed up one exam after another.
Think of his future, think of your future.
St. Andrews, the two of you, but only if Henry doesn’t get even further behind.
Look left, look right. Empty hall, three steps into the room.
I pull out my phone, photograph the first page, turn over, take the next photo.
I’m calm, I’m quick, it just happens. When I’ve almost finished, my elbow nudges the water bottle standing on the desk.
It’s made of glass; it tips as if in slow motion.
My heart skips a beat as I just manage to grab it before it falls.
But in the process, a couple of exercise books slip aside, revealing an open packet of pills.
Is Mr. Ward taking painkillers for his leg? Whatever, concentrate, Wiley.
It takes me less than thirty seconds to put everything back the way it was and get back outside.
There’s still nobody in sight, and instead, the thoughts crowd in.
Are you sure you put everything back the way it was before?
Did nobody really see you? Holy shit, now the evidence is right there on your phone.
I’m just about to step back into the room to check that I really didn’t leave a trace when someone comes around the corner.
It’s Mr. Ward. I jump so violently that he’s bound to have seen it.
“Here you are.” His eyes go from me to the door and back again. Don’t attract suspicion. Breathe normally. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“What? I thought you said room 2350 . . .”
“2150,” says Mr. Ward. I shiver. “Round the corner.”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.”
Did he see me? Shit, am I really that stupid?
My heart is thumping so loudly that I feel sure he must be able to hear it.
He eyes me sharply, then walks past me and reaches for the handle. His head twitches toward me as the door opens.
“Were you inside?”
“No,” I gasp. Breathe. Shit. “Why?”
Mr. Ward glares at me, pulls out a monstrous keyring and locks the door. He gives it a rattle to check, then turns and starts walking away.
“Are you planning to take root here?” he asks, when I don’t move. “I haven’t got all day.”
Henry
I’ve never been so exhausted, but all the same I feel like the visit to St. Andrews changed something.
It’s almost like the time after my run with Emma a few days ago.
Things haven’t got better, just different.
I’m still embarrassed whenever I remember the way I lost control in the woods, even if I know there’s no need to be.
I’ve never felt as powerless as I did in those minutes when I sat on the ground, unable to breathe.
And even if I could wish she hadn’t seen me like that, I’m glad Emma was there.
I don’t know how long she sat beside me in the rain, just holding me.
I only remember her voice once I’d cried myself empty.
She didn’t tell me to get up and pull myself together.
She didn’t say any of the things I’d been afraid of.
You can always tell me about her if you want. But if you don’t want to, and you just need to cry, then I’ll sit here with you, all right? You are allowed to feel this way. You don’t have to get over it.
I hadn’t known how much I needed to hear that.
I wonder where she is as I walk back to school after rugby.
It went OK today. Maybe even OK-verging-on-good.
For a while, I was able to forget how sad I am.
Mr. Cormack announced the final squad for our game on Friday.
I’m not going to start, much to Valentine Ward’s joy, but I’ll be on the bench, and I think Mr. Cormack will give me a chance and bring me on as a sub.
I really hope so, because it’s one of the biggest matches of the season.
We’re playing Alkmounton College, who are kind of local rivals, an hour or so down the road.
They’re good, but we’ve generally thrashed them. We’ll see.
I say goodbye to Omar and Gideon, who are heading down to Ebrington before dinner to get some stuff from Irvine’s, and pop up to my room.
The corridor is empty, most people aren’t back yet, but I pause as I spot Emma sitting outside my door.
She’s leaning her back against the wall, has her arms wrapped around her legs, and is staring so absently at the wooden floorboards that she doesn’t even notice me.
“Emma?”
She raises her eyes and jumps up. “We have to talk.”
“Is everything OK?”
“No.” Her voice sounds muffled, and she glances uncertainly over my shoulder. Then she looks at me again. “It’s important, Henry.”
“Fine.” I reach for my key.
“I’ve fucked up,” she says, almost as soon as we’re in my room.
I remember that she just had that appointment with Mr. Ward. Was he mean to her again? “What’s happened?” I ask. She steps past me. I follow her. “Emma.”
“I wasn’t going to. Shit, it was just for a second and . . . I’m totally screwed.”
“Emma,” I repeat, but more firmly this time. She stops. When she slowly turns to me, there’s panic flickering in her pale eyes. “Talk to me.”
In slow motion, she reaches for her phone. I can’t take my eyes off her face even as my own mobile buzzes in my trouser pocket. I pull it out and see that she’s sent me some photos.
Four photographs of pages of text. I bring my phone closer to my face, and then I understand.
“What the—”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Where did you get these?” I blurt.
Emma’s gone as white as chalk. “I went to Mr. Ward’s office to look for him. I thought . . . I must have been in the wrong room. There was nobody there.”
“And it wasn’t locked?”
“No, and I didn’t realize at first, but then . . .”
“That’s our bloody maths exam.” I stress every individual word. With every second, Emma’s looking more desperate. “Why did you take the photos?”
She doesn’t speak, just looks at me. Her jaw muscles tense.
“Emma, for God’s sake! You’re not serious, are you? This is cheating, you—”
“I know,” she bursts out. “I know, Henry. I . . . Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I was about to leave, but then I saw what they were and . . . I thought it would be useful for you, for Friday.”
“Useful for me to what? To look at the questions in advance? God, no, no way. If anyone saw you, there’ll be hell to pay. Do you know that?”
Tears shine in her eyes.
“Did anyone see you?”
“No! No one. I think . . . There was nobody there.”
“You think?”
“Fuck it, no. I got straight out of there. I didn’t take anything. Mr. Ward didn’t come around the corner till afterward.”
“Please, you cannot be serious about this,” I say slowly.
“Hell, Henry! Don’t you understand? I didn’t plan this. I’d never do a thing like this, but I—I did it for you.”
“It’s not like I asked you to!”
“No, because apparently you don’t give a shit about anything. I’m sorry, Henry, for thinking about your future and wanting to help you!”
“I can do without help like this, thank you very much.”
We’re standing face-to-face. We’re screaming. I feel panic trying to well up inside me, but I suppress every feeling. We can’t afford any mistakes now.
“Delete them,” I order her. “Do it now, right now.”
Emma flinches and lowers her gaze. I can see her select the photos and delete them as I follow suit.
“And empty your trash too. God, I can’t believe this.”
When she raises her head and gives me a startled look, I know she hadn’t thought of the trash. Nobody can find these pictures on her phone.
She swallows once she’s finished. We look at each other for several seconds, until she turns away. She doesn’t speak another word. I hear the door bang, throw my phone onto the bed, run both hands through my hair, and turn to face the window.