White Lies. Zoe Markham
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and Mum’ll be working with the local army – making sure they’re ready – that they don’t need anyone else. Kind of so that everyone else can come home.”
“Well well…that’s… My goodness. How commendable.”
He looked flustered, and I felt awkward, but help arrived in the form of a crackle from the intercom. Beachball sprang back into cheery mode – looking grateful for the interruption.
“Aha! Let’s see who else is keen to get back!” He rubbed his hands together. “Tyler, perhaps you could show Abigail around? We’ve put her in Scarlett’s dorm. You’ll love our Miss Murphy,” he told me with a wink. “She’s one of the most popular girls in the school; there’s no one here who knows better how hard it can be when you first start boarding, no matter what age you are. She’ll help you find your feet in no time.”
A flash of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on danced across Tyler’s eyes this time, somehow making me feel more nervous than ever as Beachball bounced off to buzz the door open.
“Come on then,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite touch those eyes, before striding off down the corridor towards another set of stairs. I grabbed my case, tried to square my shoulders a little, and followed.
He bounded up three flights before finally stopping beside a door on the top corridor, waiting for me to catch up. It took a while. I tried to console myself with the fact that after a few weeks of this, combined with the walk up that hill to the school every day, I’d be fitter than ever. Not that that would be particularly difficult.
“What?” I panted, when I finally made it. “Never seen a girl with asthma before?” I meant it as a joke, but judging by the look on his face it’d come out wrong. “Don’t they have lifts?” I blundered on. “I mean, with everyone having cases and stuff?”
He shook his head. “No lifts. This building is approximately a million years old.”
“Yeah, but…aren’t there laws, or something?” I leant over slightly, feeling my breath start to settle. “What if you’re disabled?”
He shrugged. “You sleep downstairs.”
He pushed the door open, and then looked back at me. “Are you?” he said.
“Am I what?”
“Disabled?”
“No.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
“I just meant, you know, what if.”
“Ah.”
He held the door open, and I shimmied past, face flaming from a mix of exertion and embarrassment. And I found myself in the pinkest room I’d ever seen. I don’t know whether it was the tension of the journey, or the awkwardness of the conversation, or what, but after taking a quick look around I burst out laughing, and once I’d started I couldn’t stop. Initially, Tyler looked at me like I was insane; but when I finally managed to blurt out, “God, my eyes!” he cracked a smile, and eventually started to laugh along with me.
“Got any shades in there?” he asked, nodding towards my case.
I felt some of the tension start to leave my shoulders. Now his eyes were smiling. But he still looked slightly awkward, leaning in the doorway, like his feet were trapped behind some kind of imaginary line.
“Somewhere,” I answered. And then, because the silence that followed went on just that little bit too long, as well as because I was suddenly genuinely curious, I asked, “So…are boys not allowed in the girls’ dorms or something?”
He laughed again, and as he uncrossed his arms and stepped inside I thought maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling tense.
“We’re allowed,” he said, flinging his arms up and giving a little twirl that set me off giggling again. It was a nerves thing. So embarrassing. He nodded across to the only unmade bed of the four – the one directly beneath the window, and I hauled my case over and collapsed onto it. Between the freaky bird and the stair-a-thon I already felt like I needed a couple of hours to recover. And apparently, it showed.
“Need some time to settle in before the grand tour?” he asked.
I glanced around the room again, trying to adjust to the pinkness. Seeing the small bedside table and the individual desk next to it, it hit me suddenly: a stark, visual reminder that I wouldn’t be going home tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or any night for a good few weeks yet. And it really shouldn’t have mattered, because without Mum, Dad or Beth, home was just an empty shell anyway. But still…it got to me. I didn’t want Tyler to see that. I was fifteen, not five – I shouldn’t have been feeling homesick the second I’d walked through the door. Tyler was used to it. They all would be. I’d stick out like a sore thumb if they knew.
“Yeah, I think maybe I’ll get unpacked,” I told him. “Can I come and find you in a bit?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ll probably be down in the common room. It’s just off reception.”
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him. He wasn’t the bag-carrying gentlemanly sort like his dad, but he’d been kind, and friendly, and I was glad he’d been there. He stopped at the door for a second before turning to look back at me.
“About Scarlett,” he said, slowly. Carefully. “She’s…”
And I waited, but the rest of his sentence never came.
“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “I’ll catch you later.”
“OK…” I said, to no one in particular as the door swung shut behind him. “So, that was weird…”
After his footsteps had faded down the corridor, I switched over into snoop mode. The hot pink bed linen must’ve been school issue, because a fresh set sat, gently glowing, at the end of my bed. The curtains and lampshades were the same shocking hue, and two of the three other beds were heaped high with even more violently pink cushions – while the third boasted an enormous, fluffy stuffed pig. It seemed I was well and truly in girly girls’ territory. It wasn’t really my style; but in a way it was kind of a relief, because it was hard to feel threatened by the sort of girl who’d go to bed with a cuddly pig. I’d come up against my fair share of Mean Girls over the years – who hadn’t – but I was pretty sure none of them had been into soft toys.
The wall above each of the other beds was plastered with photos of smiling, laughing teens, and on two of the bedside tables there were framed photos of ridiculously good-looking guys, one throwing a smouldering smile at the camera, and one with his arm around a stunning redhead. The third boasted a tattered photo of what looked to be an ancient Alsatian, and it made me smile.
I’d only brought one photo with me – one real one anyway, there were plenty on my phone – but I wasn’t ready to display it just yet. Pulling my battered, dog-eared novel out of my case, I opened it to where the photo marked my place, and felt my heart attempt both a leap and a nosedive at the same time. I closed it again gently, and laid the book on the small bedside table.
I got on with making my bed up and unpacking, before I could start thinking about things and getting upset, convincing myself that it’d be good to look ‘settled’ by the time the others got here. I hung my school clothes – the exact same unimaginative navy blue and white as all the others I’d been through, just with a slightly different crest on the sweatshirt – in the narrow wardrobe. My own clothes, mostly oversized jeans and hoodies, got crammed in around them. I stacked my new stationery on my desk and filled the bedside table with more well-thumbed paperbacks and my trusty Kindle.
The wide, inviting drawer under the bed, the only one with a key sitting pretty in the lock, cried out for my stash. I chewed on a thumbnail as I considered it. I could just throw it all out – dump the lot in one of the big Biffa bins that would inevitably be sitting out back somewhere. I could leave it all behind me once and for all – make this fresh start real.