Stella

by Helen Eve

  He lifted my chin gently and looked right into my eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry.’

  The champagne we’d had with dinner – infinitely better than the bottle I’d drunk after kick-off – made me unguarded. ‘I did feel a little better when I found out that you and Stella hadn’t slept together.’

  He looked taken aback. ‘Did she tell you that?’

  ‘I found out that she’s never slept with anyone,’ I said, biting my lip too late. ‘Maybe she should wear a purity ring too.’

  He stared at me for a moment and then laughed. ‘I’m sure that’s about to change. I don’t think Luke’s booked them into a hotel so they can talk all night, do you?’

  ‘No.’ I fell silent as I considered how many people Stella had misled. Despite his efforts to pretend otherwise, I could tell Edward was surprised to hear that she and Luke hadn’t slept together yet. Luke, who probably believed that she’d already slept with Edward, would be making a big effort tonight to compete. And the Stars, misinformed on both counts, had run headlong into their first carnal experiences based only on a desperate need to fit in.

  I refocused my attention on Edward as he leaned closer. ‘We’ve got plenty of time; you just have to let me know what’s okay,’ he said. ‘Like, is this allowed?’

  He kissed the back of my hand.

  I laughed. ‘Of course.’

  He pushed my hair behind my ear and kissed my temple. ‘This?’

  I nodded, feeling his breath on my neck. Then he kissed me on the lips and moulded his body around mine, our legs tangling. I pushed my tongue against his and heard him moan softly in the back of his throat. For the first time I wondered whether my rigid beliefs were such a good idea. Playing with the rules was way more fun than I’d imagined. Especially now I knew Stella hadn’t gotten there before me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stella

  A garden of pink roses runs underneath the clock tower, creating a tunnel of rose bushes with a clearing in the centre. When I was a Shell, I used to crawl inside when I needed peace and autonomy. The clearing was safe because access to it was awkward, not to mention thorny: I had to edge along the tunnel on my hands and knees, and I was the smallest student in school. I’d never imagined that anyone else would contemplate trying, but one day I was interrupted by an avalanche of rustling.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked as Luke pushed and shoved his way into the tiny space beside me.

  His hair was full of twigs and burrs, and there was a scratch on his cheek. We’d never spoken before, but sometimes I’d caught him watching me. It made me nervous, for reasons I couldn’t explain.

  ‘I thought you might want company,’ he said. ‘I heard you crying.’

  ‘I never cry,’ I said.

  He shrugged easily. ‘Were you thinking about your sister?’

  Before I could tell him I didn’t know what he meant, he looked above my head where the corner of Siena’s gold memorial plaque was visible through the leaves. Beloved sister, daughter and friend. The rose garden was hers, but it only felt that way when I sat right inside at the heart no one else could pierce. No one seemed to know why the clock had stopped at the exact time of her death, but placing my hands flat at a particular point on the ground never frightened me; in fact it provided a lulling relief from the dizzying images that haunted the rest of my hours.

  ‘Losing her must have been very hard,’ he said finally.

  I mentally flipped through my repertoire of stock responses, but none of them fitted the situation as easily as they did when teachers asked me how my mother was coping, or if I wanted to talk, and I was able to tell them extremely proactively or no, thank you, in a tone that prevented them from ever asking twice.

  Perhaps I was tired, or perhaps it was because, in the limited space between branches, we couldn’t see each other’s faces, but I said something entirely unexpected.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  Luke told me about his parents’ divorce – coming home from prep school to find that his father now lived in Edinburgh with a woman he’d met at a conference – and how it felt to see him only twice a year.

  ‘But at least I do get to see him,’ he added.

  I told him that sometimes I felt I’d lost my mother too, because she no longer noticed anything that wasn’t shaped like a bottle of vodka. And he didn’t say anything back, but what should have scared me – admitting something so monumental out loud – became almost manageable.

  Reaching forward, he combed his fingers through my hair. ‘This is how I found you.’

  As he pulled a leaf from the tangles, I was transported from the rose garden back to that family holiday in Capri.

  Caught in a riptide, I had kicked and fought against thrashing waves that blinded and deafened and consumed me. But, gradually, as I forgot what oxygen felt like and which way was up, it was easier to stop struggling and let the water fold over me like peace. I was almost annoyed when Siena caught me up with a force greater than the swell and towed me back to shore; when she laid me on hot sand and slapped my face and shook me harder than the tide had done. Breathing was more painful than the alternative, but, as warmth flowed back into my skin and I blinked into the light, her face reminded me why I was alive.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I had asked her as she picked up yards of my wet hair and twisted it tightly around her hand.

  ‘As long as I don’t let go of this, I’ll always find you.’

  * * *

  Amongst the roses Luke reached between thorns and ivy sprigs for my hand, and I let him take it. Light broke through the leaves above us and I looked up as if I felt something warmer than mere sunlight.

  He and I were equals for that second, because we both knew secrets about each other, but as the moment lengthened I snatched my hand away and waited for him to leave. His touch had flooded life back into my leaden limbs as painfully as Siena had, but this time I didn’t want the cure. Because without Siena I didn’t need to know which way was up.

  Luke and I didn’t speak again for a long time, but whenever I crawled into the tunnel there was something waiting for me. Love hearts, or a necklace with my name on, or, once, a tightly folded piece of paper that just said I’ll wait. At first I liked it, but then I started to visit only because of what he might have left for me. So I wrote a note telling him not to go there again, and I started going out with Edward a full month earlier than scheduled.

  After that I didn’t like to remember the way Luke had held my hand and whispered You’ll be okay as if I were a skittish stray cat. It meant I also had to forget the relief of transcending pain with someone who could share it, but that was necessary because surrendering to it would have weakened us both.

  * * *

  Today Luke goes straight to the shower before it’s even light outside, leaving me in bed. We’ve never really woken up together before, except on a school trip when he had to sneak out of the tent before anyone noticed, and I never once imagined that it would be like this. I lie facing the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, until he gently shakes my shoulder.

  In the lift, he touches my chin so I have to meet his eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say. The other things I want to tell him stick in my throat.

  Back at school I cling to him for a moment, but he kisses me on the forehead and lets me go. My legs are unsteady and I wonder how you regain control once it’s slipped away.

  Katrina runs over when I come into the Common Room and the others follow.

  ‘Don’t make such a fuss,’ I hiss.

  I feel irritable because I’m hungover on top of everything else, and I just want to go to bed and read Ballet Shoes (don’t tell anyone I said that).

  ‘Come on, don’t be mean,’ sulks Katrina. ‘Tell us the details! Is Luke everything we thought he’d be?’

  I talk about the roses, and the dinner, and Luke telling me I’m perfect, and the Stars’ tearful reactions cheer me up. I’m confident now that I can act as
if everything’s fine, and that acting it will make it so, but, as I get up to leave, Caitlin corners me.

  ‘You slept with Luke?’ she says.

  ‘Of course.’ I shrug. ‘It was Valentine’s Day.’

  Caitlin is every bit as idealistic as Katrina so I’m expecting her to ask for more romantic details, but she stops me in my tracks. ‘But it was your first time, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was my first time with Luke,’ I say.

  ‘No,’ she insists. ‘I mean, it was your first time. That’s a big deal, and I just wanted to check that you were okay.’

  I weigh up my options as I wonder how she knows. Mary-Ann would never blow a secret of this magnitude, and the idea of Edward voluntarily admitting virgin status is even less plausible. I consider asking her, but can’t risk letting her see that it matters.

  I stay calm. Caitlin and I might have spent a lot of time together recently, but that doesn’t mean she can behave in such an over-familiar way. ‘I didn’t lie.’ I sound so forceful that my own voice takes me by surprise.

  She swallows nervously and edges away. ‘You know I’m not trying to cause trouble, Stella. I only wanted to help.’

  Responding will make this worse, so I walk away, leaving her staring as I toss back my hair in the most nonchalant way I can manage.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caitlin

  ‘Have you noticed that the Shells have started carrying pet rats in their bags?’ Penny announced sternly over lunch. ‘It’s very unhygienic.’

  Katrina rolled her eyes. ‘The Shells are completely indiscriminate – they’ll copy anyone. No offence, Caitlin,’ she added as she caught my eye. ‘But I wish they hadn’t chosen this incident to recreate. A Black Death association can’t be good for us.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters,’ put in Lila. ‘Caitlin’s done us a favour by getting the Shells back onside now we’ve lost Ruby. We need to think of every student as a vote, and fighting with Ally has made Stella unpopular with the Fifths. The last thing we need is for them to offer support to another student so that we end up with two candidates. And before you tell me that won’t happen, guess what I found out this morning?’

  Stella was missing, but no one had asked why. She’d started skipping meals lately, as well as lessons and sports meets, but the Stars rarely questioned anything she did. This meant they didn’t speak about Luke either, even though I was sure he was avoiding her. I tried my best not to think about him, but sometimes I found myself wishing that they’d just break up already.

  ‘What’s up with her and Ally?’ I asked. I still didn’t understand what had happened at kick-off, but now Ally hated me too. I’d apologized to her more than once, but her furious glares made me gladder than ever to have the protection of the other Stars.

  ‘Stella hates anyone who dates Edward,’ Penny said.

  I must have looked as stunned as I felt, because Penny’s eyes widened in shock as she tried to explain herself. ‘Not you, Caitlin. I mean, she totally created your relationship with him. It’s fully endorsed.’

  ‘Created it?’ I asked, confused, as Katrina winced.

  ‘You look nice today, Caitlin,’ Mary-Ann cut in hastily.

  I looked down at myself, trying to forget Penny’s comment. ‘Thank you.’

  Edward and I had gone shopping together in a free afternoon and I’d taken full advantage of my dad’s latest guilt gift. Mom hadn’t been happy when he’d set me up such a big expense account, especially because he signed off the bills without even looking at them. That made it easy to pretend I was buying school supplies rather than clothes, but he didn’t seem to care anyway. A new wardrobe was way overdue: my blouses and twill skirts, so appropriate for British aristocracy, looked Victorian in this bohemian, supposedly free-thinking school. This time I’d shopped with Stella and Katrina in mind, buying miniskirts and skinny jeans, layered tank tops and gilets.

  Edward had been surprisingly helpful for a straight guy, recommending the Stars’ favourite shops and the clothes they’d have chosen themselves. He’d also been totally sympathetic when I’d told him how much I was missing Charlie, as if he understood how I felt, and had picked out a bunch of toys that Charlie had loved. That my mom was less pleased with the offerings, especially the whirring remote control car (that he’d crashed into her leg during a conference call to the Sorbonne) and the wind-up parrot (which Edward had confessed to reprogramming so it cursed endlessly in Swedish), was an unexpected bonus.

  Lila craned her neck as Lucy walked past. ‘Caitlin, is Lucy wearing your dress?’

  ‘Yes, she borrowed it,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t have a lot of clothes and I have way more than I need.’

  I’d been so eager to cheer Lucy up after our talk on Valentine’s Day that I’d donated her half my closet.

  Penny wrinkled her nose and brushed a speck of dust off her leather pants. ‘Well, donate to an unrelated charity next time. She might tell someone it was yours, and that would reflect very badly on us.’

  I was about to ask why, but when I looked at Lucy more closely I wondered if the dress did look kind of funny on her. She stooped a little, so her posture was weird, and as a result the fabric hung unevenly on her thin shoulders. I felt bad thinking it, but perhaps it was better that people didn’t connect it with me.

  Catching my eye, Lucy waved and grinned. Her retainers were very visible. I was about to wave back, but, when Katrina shot me a warning look, I pretended to flex my hand instead.

  ‘Speaking of Lucy, will you please let me finish?’ Lila reverted to her previous conversation topic. ‘This is big news. She’s standing in the election!’

  I was pleased for Lucy, but the other Stars gasped.

  Despite the fact that someone seemed to mention the election every few minutes, I still failed to see why it mattered quite so much. At Campion I’d loathed the afternoons in the dark auditorium listening to preppy girls mumbling about representing the student body in an effort to get into the Ivy of their choice. Here, of course, student politics was a lot more glamorous, but now the excitement of kick-off was over it was hard to feel invested in it.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I interjected. ‘I know we want Stella to win, but can’t Lucy try out if she wants to? It’s not as if she’ll take a year group’s support away from us.’

  ‘Caitlin’s new, remember?’ Lila told the others, who looked aghast at my question. ‘The Head Girl position is Stella’s birth right. No one should mess with her family line.’

  ‘But what if she wins?’ I asked. ‘What do the Head Girl and Boy actually do?’

  ‘The school pays their fees,’ said Mary-Ann. ‘And they sit on the stage in assembly … make decisions on school rules … go to Oxford…’

  ‘You take the fun out of everything, Mary-Ann,’ Penny complained.

  Lila nodded. ‘That’s the boring bit. The election result is announced at Elevation, the summer ball, and the Head Girl gets a gold crown. There was a matching sash too, but it went missing a few years ago. It’s on the fourth of July, so you should save the date. It should be the biggest moment of the entire year, except that the most boring candidates keep winning and ruining it for everyone. Last year –’ she shuddered – ‘I heard that Lorna’s dress was from Debenhams.’

  ‘I’m sure that was just a rumour,’ reassured Mary-Ann.

  ‘That’s Independence Day,’ I said happily. ‘I wondered if I’d get to have a celebration this year.’

  Lila continued as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Plus, the Head Girl and Boy each choose five Prefects, so it’s really important for us that Stella wins. The Prefects can rule the school, but you haven’t seen the potential because our current team is such a damp squib. The runners-up were so much more desirable. Minka, who totally deserved to win, spends every June in Cannes and never sits a single exam. You probably haven’t seen her around because she’s shooting an art house film in Romania. She’d have been the perfect Head Girl.’

  Penny interrupted. ‘Even be
ing a Prefect isn’t the best bit. Most exciting are the dresses the Head Girl candidates wear to Elevation. It’s like Next Top Model – better, even, if you can imagine that. Lots of people – mainly girls, and the boys from the Les Mis society – don’t cast their votes until they’ve seen the outfits.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit shallow?’ I asked. ‘Should a Head Girl be elected based on a dress?’

  ‘Of course she should.’ Penny sounded puzzled. ‘What other criteria are there? Other than hair, of course, and no one can compete with Stella on that score.’

  Lila nodded. ‘You wouldn’t trust a leader with bad fashion sense, would you? And if you need any proof that everyone’s priorities have got really warped since…’ She tailed off and started again. ‘Then look at our current leaders. Would you trust them with anything?’

  Lorna and Mark were hard to spot. They hung out with lots of different people, and, instead of having their own table, they sat wherever there was space as if they were regular students. Right now they were talking animatedly over a big dusty book as a group of Removes flicked chips at each other.

  ‘But if people vote for the glamorous – deserving – candidates and their dresses, why don’t they win?’ I asked.

  The Stars exchanged glances. ‘We think there’s a staff conspiracy,’ whispered Penny. ‘Allegedly there was a lot of corruption in Siena’s year, and now they manipulate the votes to get the winner they want. There’s no other explanation for the success of such grey undesirables.’

  Now I understood why they only wanted one candidate. ‘So that’s why Lucy could be a threat? Because the teachers might choose her even if the students don’t?’

  Even though they’d just admitted as much, the Stars looked affronted.

  ‘There’s only one reason the teachers wouldn’t want Stella to win, and that’s because it could bring back bad memories for her,’ Lila clarified. ‘But there’s no chance of that, because Stella’s totally come to terms with her tragic past. She’s very Zen.’