Chapter 3 #2
Tori’s sitting a few seats along from me, but constantly glancing at Valentine Ward, who looks about as crap as I feel.
I haven’t seen Tori since the ball, but somehow, I sense a degree of tension between us.
It’s weird – unless I’m imagining it, she’s avoiding catching my eye.
Maybe she’s just tired. Or maybe I made a dick of myself on Saturday night.
After assembly, I have to ask her if everything’s OK.
Just talking would be nice. We barely see each other.
By our standards. Of course we meet around the school every day, and we’re doing some of the same subjects, but at break, Tori’s spending more of the time hanging around with Valentine and the upper sixth now.
Are they together, or was that just a bit of winching at the ball?
No commitment. Totally not Tori’s style, but nobody asks me.
Victoria Belhaven-Wynford and Valentine Ward. Shit, why does it sound like something out of a corny novel? They could call their children Valerie and Vincent. Minging little brats. I hate everything and my head aches.
Victoria Belhaven-Wynford and Charles Sinclair.
Nah, doesn’t fit. There’s no rhythm to our names.
Tori and Sinclair. Victoria and Charles.
Crap either way. Why am I kidding myself?
She’s a Belhaven-Wynford and I’m the baker’s son.
OK, our families aren’t old-fashioned enough that they’d make us think our backgrounds would be an issue.
Tori’s parents have never made me feel like I’m not good enough for their daughter when I’ve spent weekends with them, or summers at their villa in the South of France.
I’d even go so far as to say that Charlotte and George Belhaven-Wynford seem to like me.
But I’m not what they’d dream of for their daughter.
Not when there’s someone like Valentine fucking Ward around, whose family moves in the same circles as theirs and who has something to offer Tori.
I try not to stare so blatantly and turn my attention away from them, towards the rows of pupils in front of me.
All in the formal navy-blue uniform, of course, like every Monday.
Any other day, we wear our normal school clothes – polo shirts, jumpers and trousers.
I glance back over my shoulder as Ms Kelleher is having words with Ellie in the fifth form because she and her friends are wearing trousers today, not their pleated skirts.
Then she shushes the juniors at the front.
The younger years always get restless when there’s as much to say as there seems to be this morning.
I’m expecting Mum to wrap up the assembly any minute, but she launches into yet another subject.
‘Before you leave for breakfast, the upper-sixth drama club has an announcement to make,’ she says, stepping back from the lectern.
Louis Thompson and Eleanor Attenborough stand up and walk to the front.
‘Hi, yes, thank you, Mrs Sinclair.’ Eleanor winces as her voice echoes through the hall – she’s way too close to the microphone.
I can’t help smiling. I feel burning eyes on me and glance around.
Tori immediately snaps her eyes to the front and crosses her legs.
‘As you all know, our annual theatre production is scheduled for just before the summer holidays,’ says Eleanor.
I force myself to turn my attention back to her.
‘Normally, all the roles would be filled by lots of the older pupils but, sadly, this year not enough people signed up.’ Eleanor ignores the quiet laughter that undoubtedly comes from Val and his pals.
From what I hear, hardly any lads have joined the drama club this year, for which he’s not entirely blameless.
Apparently, if you want to play on Val’s rugby team, you’re not allowed any other hobbies.
And almost all the upper sixth want that.
‘So we talked it over with Mr Acevedo and decided that the auditions next Wednesday would be open to the fifth form and lower sixth too,’ Eleanor continues.
A gentle murmur rolls through the hall like a wave.
Fifth-and sixth-formers are hanging on Eleanor’s every word while the fourth form huff in outrage.
I automatically glance over to Tori. I know that she’s been thinking about joining the drama club for ages and I’m worried that the only reason she hasn’t done it is to avoid Eleanor.
Tori’s lips are slightly parted and she looks suddenly excited.
Until she spots Val, sitting a bit in front of her, as he laughs scornfully, shakes his head patronizingly and crosses his arms over his chest. His rugby pals laugh too.
They’re so transparent – it’s blatantly obvious that several of them would actually like to try out for the play if Val wasn’t constantly so dismissive of the drama club.
Maybe he genuinely hates the theatre but, to be honest, it looks more like he’d do anything to score off Eleanor, the queen of drama, because his stupid pride was hurt when she ditched him last summer.
‘And so, drumroll please, we’ll be performing Romeo and Juliet.
’ Louis’s taken over. A few of the older year groups giggle.
‘Yeah, surprise, surprise, same as every year. But I promise that our version will be the best ever. So just speak to one of us or to Mr Acevedo if you want to audition, and he’ll give you your lines.
’ He looks over to Eleanor who steps back to the mic.
‘Previous acting experience would be useful but it’s not essential,’ she says.
‘The important thing is that you want to be involved and are prepared to put a lot of work into the rehearsals between now and the summer. So, next Wednesday, in the theatre at three. Anyone who auditions will be let off from study hour this once. See you then!’
Mr Acevedo jumps up and gives them a double thumbs-up before starting a round of applause.
I join in as I stand. The hall instantly fills with voices, laughter and scraping chair legs.
The younger kids rush for the doors while a few fifth-formers wait for a chance to speak to Eleanor, Louis or Mr Acevedo.
The way I’m going to speak to Tori. Or that’s the theory.
But in practice she’s already in the central aisle while I can’t get past everyone else blocking our row.
Tori’s making her way towards Val. He’s raging, but he kisses her and puts his arm around her shoulders.
A few fourth-formers have their heads together, whispering. It makes me want to boak.
‘Hey, mate, smile,’ Henry remarks, at my side.
I glare at him. It’s easy for him to say with Emma at his side and their irritatingly picture-perfect relationship.
OK, that’s not true. The two of them went through a lot before they finally got together.
And things didn’t exactly get any easier when Henry’s sister died out of the blue like that.
It really knocked him sideways and even now, almost four months later, there are still days when he looks all at sea.
But it’s got better. Especially since he’s been going to see Ms Vail, the school psychologist, regularly.
I’m glad of that, because it feels like I’ve got my friend back, but I’m not so na?ve as to think things are any easier for Henry to deal with just because he seems to be coping these days.
I decide to seize the opportunity.
‘Did I say something stupid on Saturday night or something?’ I ask.
‘Why do you ask?’ Henry replies evasively, which can’t be a good sign.
‘I dunno, I think I had a blackout,’ I admit. ‘And Tori . . . she was there, wasn’t she?’
‘She spent the night with you,’ says Henry.
My blood runs cold, then hot. Bloody booze. I can’t remember a thing.
It’s not the first time that Tori and I have shared a bed, but it’s been rare lately. And I miss her. Shit, yeah. I don’t mind admitting that nobody gives such good hugs as Tori.
But clearly Valentine’s the guy getting that pleasure now. If they do hug. Probably they have other things on their minds when she . . . Stop, don’t think about it.
‘Oh, right.’ I gulp. ‘There was nobody there when I woke up.’
‘She probably left early so you wouldn’t get in any trouble.’
Or maybe she just didn’t want to have to speak to me. Or she headed up a floor at some point. To Valentine. I can’t bear the thought of it.
Tori’s eyes meet mine as she leaves the hall with Valentine, Neil and a few others in the upper sixth. She looks away before I can say anything.
TORI
Val hasn’t mentioned the other evening, not even once, and that’s making me edgy.
He laughs and puts his arm around me as we leave the hall.
I follow him outside rather than heading for my classroom.
I don’t smoke but I want to spend more time with Val so I guess I’ll have to stand out here in the cold with him whether I like it or not.
And live with my hair reeking of smoke. Maybe I’d even prefer it to heading upstairs to classes with Henry, Emma, Olive and Sinclair.
It’s not like I didn’t feel the way my best friend was looking at me during assembly.
We haven’t spoken since, and it’s not very nice.
But I can deal with that later. Now I’m with Val.
And I should enjoy the fact that he’s in a good mood.
I’d been expecting us to start fighting the second we met up again.
‘How was the rest of your weekend?’ I ask, as we follow his pals.
Val slows his steps. ‘You guys go on,’ he calls, as we stop just before the gateway to the courtyard. His tone changes as he continues. ‘My weekend? Yeah, how was my weekend . . .’
I’m suddenly way too aware of the weight of his arm on my shoulders. Val removes it and faces me. The smile’s wiped off his face.
‘Yeah, it was great.’ His voice is dripping with sarcasm. ‘I waited for an answer from you and didn’t get one, but you know that part.’