by Helen Eve
Katrina handed me a cup of something that made my eyes water. She was wearing a metallic bandage dress so tight that she could barely walk.
‘Edward, go and find Caitlin a new outfit,’ she ordered him. ‘How could you let her turn up in jeans?’
Edward shrugged easily and led me inside the house as Luke headed off to phone Stella once again. It was dark, and he held my hand as we wove our way through messy but ornately decorated rooms to a hidden stairwell.
‘These rooms were servants’ quarters,’ he explained. ‘My dad had them renovated into an apartment for me and Jack.’
It didn’t surprise me that he had his own place, complete with kitchen, den and two bathrooms.
‘Where am I supposed to find something to wear?’ I asked dubiously. ‘Or was this just a ploy to get me up here?’
‘Kind of,’ he admitted as he pulled me into the room at the end of the hallway.
‘This is your bedroom?’ I asked, staring around at the bare walls, the minimal décor and the severely right-angled furniture.
Edward gestured at the bed as if I were an idiot.
‘I see it,’ I defended myself, ‘but usually bedrooms are more than literally that.’
‘All my stuff’s at school,’ he said as he lifted me onto the bed, throwing a stack of cushions to the floor and raising a cloud of dust.
‘Do you even sleep in here when you’re home?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘There’s another room I use.’
He pinned me to the bed by my wrists. I let him kiss me for a few minutes, but he pulled back just as I was about to remind him of my relationship rules.
‘Have you considered running for Head Girl?’ he said.
I was blindsided, not to mention a little offended by the speed with which he’d changed gears. ‘Head Girl? As in, Stella Hamilton, Head Girl of Temperley High?’
He looked nonplussed. ‘Why are you so convinced she’s going to win?’
‘Who else could possibly win?’ I stammered. ‘Lucy?’
‘No.’ He kissed me on the cheek. ‘You.’
‘That’s crazy. I haven’t even been here a semester yet! Who’d vote for me?’
He smiled. ‘Being new could be an advantage. You don’t have all the long-running feuds the other girls have. You’re a blank canvas…’
‘Thanks a lot,’ I said huffily.
‘… because no one knows much about you. You can be whoever you want.’
‘Why do you care if I run or not?’ I asked.
‘Do I have to spell it out? You’re pretty – even dressed as a rabbit – clever and popular. You could change everything!’
He kissed me again, making me forget Luke altogether and struggle to keep on topic.
‘I’m flattered, but there’s no way I’d compete against Stella after all she’s done for me. And why would I run against you?’
‘What if I wanted you on my team?’ he said lightly, pausing to let his words sink in.
‘You want to put together your own team?’ I asked. ‘Are you for real?’
Since kick-off I’d heard a lot of speculation about Edward and Stella’s campaign strategy now they were no longer dating, but no one had seriously suggested anything like this.
‘You can see why I don’t want to run alongside Stella and Luke, can’t you?’ he asked. ‘It’s awkward. Besides, what’s the point if the outcome’s already decided? With you on board and someone to compete against, it’ll be way more exciting.’
I didn’t believe him. ‘I’m not sure, Edward. I’d never dare stand up and give a speech in front of all those people. I’d die of fright!’
‘You don’t know what you’re capable of,’ he said. ‘I have complete faith in you.’
A fantasy I’d never before dared to entertain vividly entered my mind; of me and Edward being crowned Head Girl and Boy at Elevation. I was wearing a beautiful dress that set off my golden hair (my hair often turned gold in my daydreams these days). Stella and Luke stood at the back of the hall, civilians in a sea of equals. Luke’s expression showed he knew he’d made the wrong choice, and Stella was glaring at the Star who suddenly held all the cards. The two cutest boys in school were now fighting over me.
I snapped back to brunette reality.
‘No one would vote for me,’ I said quickly. ‘They all want Stella.’
‘Not everyone likes being bossed around.’
I wondered if this were true. Stella was never short of servants, but that was their choice. None of us were friends with her against our will, were we? I pushed from my mind the image of us sitting around the Star table, no one daring to take her space even when she wasn’t there. Five obedient girls, cowed by the name she’d carved into wood.
‘I can tell you this because I know Stella better than anyone,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘If she didn’t think you had a shot at winning, she wouldn’t have let you be a Star. She wanted to keep a close eye on you.’
‘Why are you saying this?’ I asked, wondering whether to be pleased that Stella’s friendship with me was so strategic. ‘You and she go way back!’
‘Stella thrives on challenges,’ he said. ‘And wouldn’t you like to make your mark?’
I considered being able to prove once and for all – to my dad as well as my fellow students – that I was no wallflower. Maybe he’d been right when he’d suggested I should be less boring. Then I shook my head.
‘Katrina is Stella’s manager. Competing with them both would be too much pressure.’
He seemed to give up. ‘I think you’re wrong, but if you’re sure, I’ll find someone else.’
He started to kiss me again, stopping only when we heard voices. Cocking his head to one side, he rolled his eyes dramatically. ‘How did they get up here?’
I listened to the scuffling outside, laughing as Edward opened the door to Penny, Lila and Katrina.
‘What do you want?’ he asked with mock-annoyance.
Katrina unfolded her arms to reveal a large green stain across her dress. ‘Cocktail shakers should only be given to people with opposable thumbs,’ she said. ‘Quentin is going to wake up to a very big bill.’
Edward led us into yet another room, which appeared to be a walk-in closet. The Stars were lost to the world as they took tentative steps towards the clothes.
‘It’s like heaven,’ Penny gasped as she held her hand out to touch the racks of dresses. ‘What is this place, Edward?’
Edward looked bored. ‘It’s my mum’s dumping ground. God knows what’s in here.’
He held out his empty cup. ‘As much as I’d like to watch this, I’m going for a refill. Take anything you want.’
He kissed me again before leaving. ‘Think about what I said,’ he murmured into my ear.
Penny looked after him. ‘He’s so perfect,’ she cooed. ‘Handsome, romantic and with the best wardrobe I’ve ever seen. Ever.’
They set to work with clinical precision, trying on and discarding and complimenting each other as fabric flew around the room like feathers.
‘This is going to be the best night of our lives,’ said Penny as she zipped Katrina into filmy yellow gauze.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Stella
Edward likes his parties to be called soirées, but orgies might be a more apposite description. By the time I arrive, Quentin is unconscious on a lilo in the pond, wearing only floral hot pants and flippers but still clutching a martini glass – I presume one of the other Stripes will make sure he doesn’t actually drown – and rumours are loudly circulating that Henry and Delia have been caught doing something entirely non-aspirational behind the gazebo. It says much that they didn’t even bother going inside.
Edward’s father works for most of the year in Singapore and his mother is usually on a retreat in Geneva. Edward says this is rehab for people with plenty of time to hone new ailments. I assume the latest of these is excessive cocktail-making, because the table in the gazebo is obscured by an odd array of spirits t
hat I presume weren’t Edward’s choice. I pour myself an apricot schnapps with a mixer of Campari and then set off to find the Stars.
The party has spilled over from garden to house, and, bracing myself, I step inside. It’s mercifully dark enough that I don’t have to see which of the rugby team is sweating on me, but the Stars are always identifiable by the fact that this event heralds the start of bikini season. I squint, looking for acres of bare flesh, but am surprised to see them wearing couture gowns instead. Penny and Lila are together in matching white Grecian dresses – I wonder if Lila mixed Quentin’s soporific cocktail in order to get rid of him for the night – with Mary-Ann at their side. She was probably an unwilling participant, but she looks incredible in a black Valentino gown that I’m sure belongs to Edward’s mother. Ruby, I’m glad to note, is nowhere to be seen.
I head towards them, hoping to find Katrina before she finds out about Edward’s decision from someone else, but, just as I think I catch a glimpse of her, Luke steps into my way.
‘Where have you been?’ he asks.
I feign deafness, indicating the speaker system, but he takes my hand and leads me back into the garden, where there are no more excuses. We sit on the swing set that Edward’s parents kept even after Edward launched himself around it in a complete circle in tribute to his favourite Thorpe Park ride. I remember the exact tree he cracked his head on, and the crunch of his shoulder – not to mention the screams he later denied – as the Lawrences’ physician fused it back into its joint. It was Syrena’s most-requested bedtime story for years.
I consider telling Luke where I’ve been, but can’t face rehashing it. ‘Are you drunk?’ I ask him hopefully.
He shakes his head and holds up a bottle of water. ‘I said I’d look after Quentin. I don’t know where he’s got to, though.’
I don’t tell him about his failure as a chaperone, largely because I’m curious to see how long the buoyancy of Quentin’s generously proportioned head will keep him afloat.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…’ I begin, wondering how best to get out of this, but he holds up his hand.
‘There’s something I want to say.’
My heart accelerates as I consider all the things it could be. Don’t pull out of the election, I think desperately. Anything but that.
‘Edward told me you’ve decided not to be campaign partners,’ he says. ‘And I can’t tell you how happy I am that you want to run with me instead.’
‘I definitely want to run with you,’ I say emphatically, in case he senses my doubt.
He smiles. ‘I know how much the election means to you, and that it’s a big deal for you to change your team now. But this is great. If you win, we’ll win together.’
Luke’s happiness seems odd until I consider that perhaps he now expects Edward to win. Perhaps he’s only willing to take part because he’s sure he’ll never have to be Head Boy.
‘And if he wins?’ I ask carefully.
‘Then I’m sure Caitlin will be a great Head Girl, once Edward manages to convince her of it.’
I choke on my drink, but Luke is too caught up to notice. ‘It’s really generous of you to free him up to run alongside her. And we’re all friends, so it won’t be like we’re competing against each other.’
My mind is racing as I try to take this in. Edward ditched me so he could run with Caitlin, after I set them up? It’s inconceivable that he can be serious enough about her to trust her with this, let alone that she’d dare betray me. I was convinced that her apparent commitment to that purity ring would prevent any significant attachments forming between them. And yet, how could I have been so reckless as to risk it?
Luke is still talking. ‘I’ve wanted to say this to you for such a long time – five years, actually – but you and Edward were together for so long and then I didn’t want to rush you.’
‘Don’t say it,’ I blurt out.
‘Stella…’ He looks baffled. ‘It’s nothing bad! I want to tell you that I love you.’
He’s holding my hand, but suddenly we’re looking at each other across an abyss rather than a dented swing set. Silence grows between us.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ His voice is uncertain. ‘I…’
I shake my head and stand. ‘I have to go,’ I say indistinctly. ‘I’m sorry.’
The hurt that crosses his face is almost unbearable. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mutter again, uselessly.
* * *
I run back into the dark house and up the stairs into Edward’s empty apartment, slamming myself into the first room I pass. My stomach hurts; my whole body hurts, as if I’m physically filled with the abhorrent force that has made Luke fall in love with me. I crumple into a ball and rock back and forth, almost convulsing in pain as I try to hold in sobs that wrack my whole body.
After a while I count down from ten and haul myself upright to face the mirror. It’s only as I look past my reflection that I see I’m in Jack’s room, to which he’s apparently never returned since moving to Singapore to work for his dad, straight after Siena’s funeral. I take in the untidy piles of notes on semiarid environments and vectors and the failure of absolutism; the school uniform still hanging pressed against his door; the bedside table photograph I’ve never even seen of Siena and Jack looking insanely happy at some prizegiving. I turn the frame to the wall, noticing as I do that the bed has been recently slept in, Edward’s favourite WWE mug abandoned on the floor, and his shirt folded roughly by the pillow.
The sink below Jack’s mirror is cluttered with toiletries, and I smell something caramel and forgotten. Before I can register that it’s Siena’s perfume I tumble into banalities like the bikini strap tan line at the base of her neck; the freckles she hated on her shoulders; the tiny white scar on her finger where she was bitten by Syrena’s pet mouse. The night she told me all the details of her protracted first kiss with Jack; her hysterics as Syrena tidily emptied a bucketful of slugs into her aromatherapy bath; the number of times I called her mobile phone to hear her tell me that she checked her messages periodically, tried my hardest to finish her summer coursework so she wouldn’t get into trouble on her return to school, and roamed the house in endless loops and circles and a desperate, frenzied certainty that if I just opened the right door at the right moment, she’d be waiting for me.
* * *
The door swings open, making me jump, and I begin to reapply my make-up.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ Katrina says as she joins me in the mirror. ‘What have you been up to? You look terrible.’
‘Thanks,’ I mutter as I stare at myself. I consider telling her that she looks terrible too, but she actually looks stunning and I don’t think she’d believe me.
She applies layers of lip gloss. ‘So when were you planning to tell me that Edward had left us? Don’t you think that, as campaign manager, I should be informed of details like this?’
‘I was going to tell you tonight,’ I say.
She rolls her eyes. ‘So good of you to fit me in. How did you drive him away?’
Indignation sweeps through me. ‘If anything, he’s worried about where your loyalties lie. No wonder he doesn’t think we can be a team anymore.’
She laughs. ‘Yes, of course you think it’s my fault. Of course you didn’t see that playing games with two boys could only have ended this way.’
‘What games?’
‘You screwed Edward over last summer and he still agreed to run with you. It was only a matter of time before he moved on, despite all your efforts to keep him hanging. But don’t worry; I’m sure playing with Luke will keep you busy for a while yet.’
‘I’m not playing with Luke,’ I say. ‘And I didn’t play with Edward either. I broke up with him because I didn’t love him; because I…’
‘Yes, what is your excuse, Stella? I don’t blame Edward for jumping ship, because our campaign is shaping up to be a complete disaster.’
‘I’m sure running with me has lost its appeal now Edward won’t be inv
olved anyway,’ I snap. ‘And I hardly see you these days. All you’ve done this term is hang around Caitlin.’
‘Can you blame me?’ She raises her voice. ‘You’ve been a complete nightmare since kick-off. I thought you were my best friend, but this isn’t friendship; it’s control. You try to control all of us into doing just what you want.’
‘I’m trying to keep us together,’ I defend myself. ‘The Stars need to be united to win this election, and sometimes that means making difficult decisions.’
‘And sometimes it involves lying,’ she says. ‘Doesn’t it?’
We’re still talking to each other’s reflections, and she holds my gaze through the mirror as if wondering how to continue. ‘I know that you and Edward never slept together,’ she says finally.
I start to comb my hair. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything Caitlin tells you.’
‘I believe this,’ she says. ‘You told us that sex wasn’t a big deal so we’d feel bad if we hadn’t done it. You let all of us think we had to copy you. But you know that it’s a big deal, don’t you? You’ve never done it, but you treated our first times like experiments and then used them against us. I know you did everything you could to keep me and Edward apart.’
‘Everyone lies about sex,’ I say. ‘Surely you know that.’
She’s upset. ‘No they don’t, Stella. You lie, because our feelings don’t matter to you. But we’re not pieces in a game. We’re people. Doesn’t it matter to you that you’re a megalomaniac? You should care what people think of you.’
‘But, you see, I don’t care,’ I say as vehemently as if this is true. ‘And you should take responsibility for your own mistakes.’
‘You can’t have it both ways,’ she says. ‘You can’t control us and then blame us when we don’t know our own minds. Not any longer.’
I’m so caught up in our argument that I haven’t looked at her properly until she steps back from the mirror and I turn from our reflections. It can’t be.
‘Where did you get that?’
It is. I know it is.
