The Magpie Society One for Sorrow

by Amy McCulloch

  ‘Ivy?’

  I look up to see Mrs Ling has approached, the yearbook in her hands.

  ‘Is this what you were looking for? Sorry it took me so long; it was not shelved in the right place. I found it in our donation pile – can you believe that? Some people have no respect for books.’

  I jump up and almost snatch it out of Mrs Ling’s hands, who rolls her eyes and walks off, muttering.

  ‘What’s that?’ Harriet says, a boiled sweet bulging out of her cheek.

  ‘It’s the yearbook mentioned in the last podcast. I don’t know if this is the exact one that the voice mentioned as I suppose they could’ve got it from an old student, but I thought it’d be worth looking at …’ A piece of paper falls from the middle of the book as I’m flicking through. I pick it up and unfold it.

  It’s sheet music, ripped from a book. A piano duet.

  Oh no.

  ‘What? What is it?’ Harriet asks. She must see the colour draining from my cheeks because she’s out of her chair and leaning over me to try and see what I’m looking at.

  ‘Clover. Shit. I think Clover’s behind the podcast.’

  22

  Audrey

  I swear I’m never gonna learn my way around this place.

  The only thing I can compare it to is a gigantic corn maze. Every hallway seems to have the same style paintings, the same polished brown railings and tiled flooring. Bonnie tried to teach me to recognize the different tile patterns, or to notice the artwork – follow the winding river with the flaming trees to the girl carrying the basket of apples to get to math – but, like I said, they all look the same to me.

  All I want to do is find a freakin’ bathroom.

  I know I’m miles from my room and Helios House – and it could be actual miles, by the way. This school needs its own Google Maps.

  I’m about to give up and head back, retrace my steps until I find a hallway that I recognize, when I catch sight of a long blond ponytail disappearing round the corner.

  ‘Araminta?’ I cry out. She’ll be able to tell me where to find a washroom.

  She doesn’t reply, so I pick up my pace, hurrying to catch up. I can hear a few voices, including Bonnie’s.

  ‘Hey, guys?’

  I turn the corner just in time to see them disappearing through a door with ornate gold lettering reading LADIES. I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God for that.

  I push through the door and enter a storm.

  ‘What makes you think this is OK?’ Araminta’s voice is high-pitched and squeaky.

  I frown. A group of girls are crowded into a single stall. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ I ask. No one answers me. So I ask again, louder, ‘What’s going on?’ Then I hear a girl whimpering, and I shoot forward. ‘What the fuck?’

  Bonnie is the first one to pull back from the stall. She has an angry look on her face, which she wipes when she sees me. She moves her body so it blocks my view. ‘Oh, Audrey. Don’t worry about this – you wouldn’t understand. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.’

  ‘What doesn’t?’ I’m too invested now. I step forward. There’s a cry of pain, and Bonnie spins round to glare at whatever – or whoever – is in the stall. I feel a growing pressure on my chest, a rise of bile in my stomach. This reminds me too much of the shit that went down back home. I won’t stand for it here. I won’t sit by and watch as someone else gets hurt.

  Araminta is so angry, she’s almost foaming at the mouth, her face red with rage. Not exactly dignified ‘head student’ behaviour.

  I crane my neck and spot someone pushed back against the toilet. She’s struggling, trying to break out of the stall. When one of the girls tries to hold her, she shouts, ‘Get off me, bitch! I’m not doing anything wrong!’

  ‘You’re not going to deny it? Tell me you’re going to stop!’ shouts Araminta.

  ‘We’ll ruin you!’ shouts another girl that I barely recognize – Heloise, I think.

  I sneer in disgust. Screw making friends. Nothing’s worth this.

  I reach into the stall, pushing Bonnie aside and grabbing Araminta’s arm. I pull her and, as she stumbles backwards, she takes some of the others with her. Finally, I recognize the girl. It’s Clover, Ivy’s fledgling.

  I feel a part of me that I’d buried deep come roaring out. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Audrey, she’s the one who’s behind the podcast,’ shrieks Araminta. ‘She’s the Voice Unknown!’

  I want to reach out and slap my former friend. But instead I stand my ground. My height means I tower over most of these girls. Araminta’s the only one who’s a match for me. Any chance I had of getting through this school year under the radar is disappearing beneath my rage.

  ‘Leave that girl alone. I don’t care what she’s supposed to have done.’ My voice is cool and calm, even though my heart is racing inside my chest. I feel like I’m outside of my own body. This is how I always wanted to react, but somehow, back home, I never had the courage to.

  Now my body isn’t betraying me for once and I’m grateful to it.

  Araminta’s head drops into her hands. Crocodile tears, my instincts shout at me. When she raises it again, her mascara is streaked down her cheeks, her eyes rimmed red. ‘You don’t understand. I overheard Ivy say she’s the “Voice Unknown” while we were in the library. I’m not the bad guy here. It’s her.’

  Now that there’s a bit of air around her, Clover speaks up again. ‘I’m not the bad guy! I’m trying to find out the truth.’

  ‘She’s making everything up, broadcasting all over the airwaves! That’s why she had to keep herself anonymous. She’s going to ruin everything that Lola stood for. It’s all LIES.’ Araminta spits out the word viciously.

  ‘Get away from her,’ I say, holding her arms as she reels back to strike again.

  ‘Look, I don’t need rescuing,’ Clover snaps at me as she jumps up. ‘I don’t care what you all think. I’m investigating everything and everyone fairly. I stand by that. Now leave me alone.’ She pushes past us all and out of the stall.

  I let go of Araminta, taking a few steps backwards. She breaks down into sobs, her back sliding against the bathroom door until she hits the floor. The other girls gather round her, speaking softly now – so different from the barking bullies they’d been only a few seconds ago.

  ‘It’s all true,’ Clover says from behind me.

  Araminta lunges, taking me by surprise. She almost gets past me, but there’s a shout from Clover and a rush of air at my back as the bathroom door flies open.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  I spin round to see Mrs Abbott – and Ivy by her side. Ivy’s face is flushed, her nostrils flaring in anger.

  Ivy catches my eye as she spots me holding Araminta back. She seems as surprised to see me as I am to see her. But for once we’re not battling with each other – this time we’re on the same side.

  It’s Mrs Abbott’s voice that snaps me back to the present. ‘Girls. Come with me.’ She gestures at Araminta and her group, who are all looking pale.

  The headmistress turns to Clover. ‘You too.’

  Clover’s head is down, but she nods.

  For a moment, it’s only me and Ivy left in the bathroom. I open my mouth to say something, but before any words come out she turns on her heel and leaves.

  I’m left alone, the silence in the tiled bathroom somehow deafening. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins; I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. I look in the mirror, shocked at how pale I am. The lack of sunshine is really getting to me, and there’s a sheen of sweat on my brow.

  But there’s something else staring back at me. A steely-eyed determination – a strength.

  And then I hear another voice in my head.

  ‘OK, so you stood up to them. But that doesn’t change what happened to me.’

  23

  Ivy

  As I’m sitting outside Mrs Abbott’s office, I watch as the other students carry on with their day, shuffling pa
st quickly in case they somehow get sucked into the drama. There are already whispers about the fight in the girls’ toilets. News spreads fast in this school, and Araminta had hardly been discreet.

  Clover has been in there for a good twenty minutes now. I wanted to wait to make sure she was OK first and foremost, but also because I have so many questions right now. I feel angry and slightly betrayed. How could she have done this? I know she’s passionate and determined, but to produce that awful podcast? It’s too much.

  And she knew I’d been searching for the culprit when it was her all along! She’d completely thrown me off the scent. It wasn’t until the sheet music dropped out of the yearbook that I realized she could be the one. Things had fallen into place then: the fact that the IP address of the email had been linked to the school meant it pretty much had to be a student, and the way Vee had referred to Patrick as a ‘head student’ instead of ‘head boy’ was so Clover. Still, I would have asked her privately, given her a chance to explain – but Araminta overheard me.

  Rather than follow Minty, I’d gone straight to Mrs Abbott. If this was about the podcast, then she needed to handle it. It shocked me how quickly Mrs Abbott was able to find out exactly where Araminta and her merry gang were confronting Clover. A mixture of being able to track their whereabouts through their school passes, and the cameras that are all over the school. Orwell’s Big Brother, eat your heart out. It would freak me out if I wasn’t already so preoccupied by the events of the last hour.

  I feel a pang of guilt that I didn’t see what was happening under my very nose. This might not have happened had I been more vigilant and kept an eye on her like I usually do. She’s still just a kid.

  I hear the door click and turn to see Mrs Abbott walk Clover out. Clover’s eyes are cast down, her arms crossed over her stomach. Mrs Abbott shuts the door behind us both – I suppose she has Araminta and her crew to deal with now.

  ‘Let’s walk,’ I say to Clover, and I guide her down the stairs, in the direction of the back entrance to the school.

  Once we’re outside, still in silence, we wander far from prying eyes looking down at us from the windows. I take her to a moss-covered bench overlooking a small stream. The silence is broken by the trickling of the water. It’s weirdly peaceful.

  ‘So it is you? Vee, I mean.’

  She stares at the water, still not able to look me in the eye.

  ‘Clover, what the hell?’ I say softly.

  ‘Ivy, I’m sorry. Really I am. I know I should have at least told you what I was doing. But I thought if I told anyone I’d be more likely to be found out.’ She pulls both legs up on to the bench and puts her chin on her knees.

  ‘What did Mrs Abbott say?’

  ‘She told me that I narrowly missed expulsion and that I mustn’t continue to make or upload the podcast from school. She can’t stop me from doing it all together, but she can stop me from doing it on school property.’ She shrugs. I suddenly realize that Clover is only sorry she got found out.

  ‘But you’re going to stop now, right? Recording it? Interviewing people? Meddling in people’s grief?’ I turn her towards me and look her right in the eye, so she knows I’m being serious. ‘Clover, you’re going to get into serious shit if you carry on. You know that, right? Lola’s death is a very real and hard thing for a lot of people. People who are all dealing with this in the best way they know how, and your podcast is really rocking the boat.’ I keep my hands placed firmly on her knees, not taking my eyes off hers. She finally looks at me.

  ‘I can’t promise that, Ivy. I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but I truly believe this story needs to be investigated. Like you said, Lola’s death is very real and hard for people. What about the people who feel something else happened that night? Her family? Her brother? Something’s off, Ivy. Surely you can see that for yourself? Surely you haven’t been totally sucked into the police’s bullshit?’

  ‘It’s not up to you to appoint yourself as private investigator in someone else’s death! You’re fifteen! This is far beyond a school-field protest or sticking up for what you believe is right. There are real people involved.’ I let out a sigh and place my hands back in my lap. This girl is unstoppable. Yet something in me tells me I can’t be mad at her, because she reminds me so much of me.

  ‘Exactly. I’m only fifteen and look how far I’ve managed to get in the investigation! I’ve uncovered stuff that the police didn’t bother getting into! How is that possible? Why?’

  ‘So you really believe it? That there was more to Lola’s death?’

  ‘I do, Ivy. I’m convinced. And I’m being careful. But the podcast is so popular now – look at this!’ She shows me the podcast app on her phone and the reviews she’s accumulated. Hundreds of them. And not just students at Illumen Hall or locals, but people all over the world.

  ‘It’s had five thousand downloads already. People are really invested in this and believe that what I’m sharing is going to help. I’m not giving that up.’ She leans back on the bench and fluffs her hair. ‘Look, Ivy, honestly, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew you were investigating. When you emailed me, I so nearly fessed up. In fact, I typed a reply, then chickened out. I still had some leads to follow up, and having the anonymity of Voice Unknown was so helpful.’ Then her expression suddenly changes. ‘Wait. Did Araminta know it was me … because of you?’

  ‘I found a page from the sheet-music book I gave you in the yearbook you mentioned in the podcast. Araminta overheard me. I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to out you before we’d had a chance to talk.’

  She sighs, and her shoulders drop.

  ‘I guess everything’s going to change now it’s out in the open. Did you see that room-mate of yours? The American girl?’

  ‘Audrey?’

  ‘Yeah. She was in the bathroom, trying to white-saviour me from Araminta’s angry mob.’ Clover chuckles. ‘All right of her to try though.’

  ‘I didn’t think she had it in her, to be honest,’ I say.

  Clover waggles her eyebrows. ‘Yeah, you judged that girl the minute she walked into your room.’

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ I reply.

  ‘I bet there’s a story there, with her,’ says Clover. Then her eyes light up with an idea. ‘But hey, now that you know, maybe you can help me with my story?’ She leans forward. ‘I’ve been racking my brains, trying to get into the Upper Wing. I either need to borrow your key card, or can you go in there and get what I need for me?’

  ‘Clover, no. I’m not helping you with this!’

  ‘Fine. Don’t then. You’ll find out soon enough that there are more secrets in this school than you realize, Ivy, and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.’ With that, she picks up her backpack, swings it over her shoulder and storms off.

  24

  Audrey

  Since the news broke that Clover was behind the podcast, the gossip fires of the school have been raging. People can’t stop talking about the bathroom incident either – Araminta’s reputation has definitely taken a beating.

  But the worst part for me is that Araminta and Bonnie aren’t speaking to me. Theodore’s ghosting me. I really have alienated everyone in the school.

  I also had to endure a two-hour lecture over FaceTime from my dad – the first time he’s bothered to call in a month – about how I’m not leaving the school, how I have to grow a backbone and stick it out, blah-blah.

  So, with no friends, and the prospect of eighteen more months at the school on my own, I’ve taken to wandering the halls like some sort of ghost.

  I go up the stairs back to Helios House slowly, dragging my feet with every step. But, when I get there, there’s a man blocking the door, staring up at the portrait of Lola. I try to avoid looking at it as much as possible. I hate how lifelike it is. No wonder there have been stories of her image haunting people’s dreams.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say, and then stop when I see his face. It’s Patrick. His face looks drawn, his
blue eyes clouded. My voice softens. ‘Oh, hey. What are you doing here?’

  He looks at me, and a small smile lifts his lips. He wipes his hand under his eyes. ‘Audrey. Hi. I had a meeting with Mrs Abbott after the identity of the podcaster came to light. I wanted to talk to the girl … what’s her name, Clover?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. I’m so sorry, that must be real hard for you.’ I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder. It feels like the right thing to do.

  ‘I gave her my blessing to continue though. Don’t think Christine was too happy about that.’ He laughs at my confusion. ‘You know her as Mrs Abbott. But I figure the more people investigating, the better. I hope that she’s done a better job than I’ve managed to do.’ He sighs, then looks back up at the painting.

  ‘I’m sorry I refused to help before.’

  ‘It’s OK. It was a lot to ask of you, completely at random. I suppose I’m still just desperate to find out what happened and … why?’

  I shrug. ‘Sometimes awful things happen.’

  ‘And sometimes awful things are done by awful people,’ he replies, an edge to his voice.

  ‘Very true.’ My voice almost cracks, and I squeeze my eyes shut. This time I feel his hands on my shoulders. Before I know it, he’s pulled me into a hug.

  ‘I hoped I’d see you again while I was here. Thank you for trying. Thank you for listening,’ he says. I open my mouth to say I haven’t tried anything at all, but he strides away, down the stairs and back into the depths of the school.

  I wrap my arms around myself where he held me, a tiny shiver running through my body. I wish there was something more I could do for him. He seems so lost. And Lola’s death was by no means clear-cut. It’s natural to want justice. Like what happened back home.

  I start to feel a little sick.

  Maybe Tyler got what he deserved, but who was the one who ended up leaving the goddamn country?

  I close my eyes and lean back against the wall.