Secret Lives

by Gabriella Poole

  Cassie was halfway down the last flight when she felt an icy chill settle between her shoulder blades. She was being watched.

  Halting abruptly, she sank her teeth into her lower lip and tried not to scream. It was too late to try to hide. If she turned she’d see whoever, or whatever, was behind her – and she really, really didn’t want to. Maybe it was the porter. Maybe it was Jake. But who knew what else might be lurking in this eerie place in the small hours?

  Stupid. What a coward she was. Of course she had to look! Gritting her teeth, Cassie spun and scowled up.

  The watching eyes glowed. Cassie went rigid with fear.

  Unhurried, the figure drew back.

  A tremor shuddered down her spine. Not Jake. Not the porter. Yet there was something about that silhouette – something about its stillness – that was alarmingly familiar. She’d felt that cool, animal gaze before, tingling on the nape of her neck.

  She had no way of proving it, even to herself, but Cassie knew it in her bone marrow.

  You might as well look, Cassie! That’s all anyone gets to do with him …

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Maths!’ moaned Isabella. ‘Why must we begin with maths?’

  Clutching her textbooks under one arm, Cassie squeezed her roommate’s elbow consolingly. ‘We have to start with something. It’s not so bad.’

  ‘It’s a terrible omen. I shall fail this year, I know I shall. Papa will be furious.’

  ‘You mean he’ll refuse to buy you a new string of polo ponies?’ Jake Johnson fell into step beside them. ‘You poor heiress. Just make do with the old ones.’

  Isabella elbowed him, not gently. ‘Be kind to me, Jake. I am too fragile to withstand your scorn.’ She tossed her mane of hair. ‘A delicate southern flower.’

  Jake laughed out loud. ‘Yeah, and shall I show you the rib you just broke?’

  ‘Any time.’ She gave him a sweet smile.

  Cassie was amused but anxious. Isabella’s flirting seemed a lot more serious than Jake’s. Anyway, wasn’t he stuck on Frosty the Snow Woman? She didn’t want her roommate to go falling in unrequited love.

  Besides, what was he up to?

  Jake looked cheerful, uncomplicated, American. He seemed like a normal guy. It was hard to believe she’d trailed him last night. Cassie could almost have believed that she’d dreamed it – if it hadn’t been for the shadows of tiredness under his brown eyes. When he smiled at her, she didn’t smile back, and he frowned slightly.

  I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know you’re up to something …

  Uneasy, Jake returned all his attention to Isabella. ‘Anyway, Miss Caruso, mathematics is just what you need. The highest achievement of reason.’ A broad grin softened his chiselled face. ‘It does not yield to violent emotion. It brings order out of complete chaos. Am I getting through? Ow!’

  She slapped him again with a textbook. ‘If you are going to insult me, Jake Johnson, I will not speak to you for the whole term. Ah!’ Isabella’s face brightened as she pulled Cassie to a halt beside a huge portrait. ‘This you must see, Cassie. You, Jake Johnson – go away.’

  ‘Hey!’ He held up both hands, still grinning. ‘I consider my ass whupped. Anyway,’ he jerked a thumb at the painting, ‘you’ll excuse me if I don’t stay to genuflect.’ He sauntered towards the classroom.

  Isabella was scowling. ‘That boy is impossible!’ she exclaimed. ‘No respect. For anyone. Not even for this amazing man.’ She flourished her fingers at the painting. ‘Look, Cassie. This may be all you ever see of him.’

  ‘Yeah?’ The portrait was so big Cassie had to take a step back to see it properly. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘This is Sir Alric Darke.’

  Cassie studied him. So this was the legendary founder of the Darke Academy? The portrait was a modern one, his angular face defined in deceptively casual brushstrokes. His eyes burned with vivid intelligence, their colours melding into grey but glinting like mica in granite. His silver-streaked dark hair grew in a perfect widow’s peak, one stray strand of it curving down his forehead like a thin blade. He had been painted at his desk, a book open beneath his hand, and he was watching the artist with an expression of cold, probing curiosity. Cassie felt he was looking straight into her brain and soul.

  ‘Jeez,’ she said after a moment. ‘I bet those eyes follow you around the room.’

  ‘Striking, don’t you think?’ Isabella tugged her arm. ‘Come on, Cassie, you cannot stand here for ever. We’ll be late!’

  Cassie let Isabella pull her towards the classroom, but she couldn’t help turning back once. Yup, they did follow you.

  ‘Miss Caruso.’ The maths teacher peered over his half-moon specs as Isabella flounced into the room. ‘It’s the first day of term. Please don’t tell me your time-keeping is going to be as execrable as your algebra. Again.’

  ‘Oh, Herr Stolz, I am so sorry.’ Isabella threw him a lovely smile as she tugged Cassie towards two empty desks. ‘I just know you will make something of me this term.’

  Someone at the back of the class murmured a few words that Cassie didn’t catch. She glanced round: Katerina. The girl at her side spluttered with laughter.

  Keiko. Of course.

  Taking no notice, Isabella dumped her books on her desk.

  Stolz forced his twitching mouth into a scowl. ‘Leading astray our new girl, too? Shame on you, Isabella. But welcome to the Academy, Cassie. I saw your test paper – very impressive. I’m expecting great things from you.’

  Cassie felt blood rush to her face as every student turned to stare at her. She slid into her chair, shoulders hunched, trying to occupy the tiniest amount of space possible. When Isabella gave her a dig in the ribs, though, she gasped and sat upright, shoulders jerking back. Jake wasn’t kidding about the broken rib.

  As Stolz turned to scribble on the blackboard, Jake himself leaned across from the desk on her left. ‘It’s all the polo,’ he explained in a stage whisper. ‘She’s deadly with a mallet. So I’m told.’

  ‘Ignore him,’ hissed Isabella. ‘Now, Cassie. The cute blond boy, that is Dieter. He is from Bavaria. Cormac – beside him – he is from Dublin. Doesn’t he have beautiful blue eyes?’ Blatantly, Isabella pointed out more students. ‘Ayeesha is from the West Indies. Barbados, I think. She is very nice –’ she lowered her voice, ‘much nicer than some of them.’ Disparagingly, she nodded in the direction of Keiko and the group at the back of the room, before resuming her introductions. ‘That is Ayeesha’s roommate next to her. Her name is Freya: Norwegian. Alice: she is English, like you. Perry Hutton you know, worse luck, and poor Richard has to share with him.’ She sniffed. ‘Jake’s roommate is South African: Pumzile, there. He has a twin, Graca, but she is in the other Year Eleven class. It’s just as well they split those two up, if you ask me—’

  ‘MISS CARUSO!’

  ‘Sorry.’ She smiled sweetly.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ muttered Jake.

  ‘And you, Mr Johnson,’ said the teacher, who hadn’t turned round, ‘if you’d be good enough to give me your attention instead of flirting, perhaps you could let me know what x would equal in this equation?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Jake. He didn’t even look at the board. ‘It’s b minus y divided by z, am I right? No, ’s OK, Herr Stolz. I know I’m right.’

  ‘Too clever for your own good, Jake.’ But Stolz was smiling.

  ‘You can say that again,’ drawled someone from the back of the class.

  Cassie turned. Yes, she’d recognised the voice: Richard, the smooth English boy, gave her a warm smile and a flirtatious wink. He and Keiko and Katerina sat together in that ‘not-so-nice group’ Isabella had pointed out. What struck Cassie, now she had a chance to stare at them, was their sheer collective beauty. They looked like an advertising pull-out in some glossy magazine: Vanity Fair, maybe, or Vogue, one of those posh monthlies Jilly Beaton used to read.

  Katerina sat alert, her Mont Blanc fountain pen tapping prettily against her chin. Keiko,
on the other hand, was adjusting her lipstick in a small mirror, one enamelled fingernail flicking at the corner of her mouth. Richard’s long legs were stretched out before him, his hands linked behind his head. He couldn’t have looked more uninterested in equations if he’d tried.

  Cassie waited for Stolz to snap at Richard as he’d snapped at Isabella and Jake, but he didn’t. He didn’t even turn round. As he stared fixedly at the blackboard, his neck reddened, and he rubbed it anxiously with one hand, getting chalk in his hair.

  ‘Mr Halton-Jones.’ He paused again. ‘I hardly think—’

  ‘Oh, come, come, Herr Stolz.’ Richard yawned and stretched. ‘Our American friend is showing off. Challenging your authority, I’d say. Not a good start to the term for him. Or you.’

  ‘Richard!’ hissed Ayeesha, turning in her chair to scowl at him.‘That’s enough.’

  Jake bristled.

  Stolz’s voice was conciliatory. ‘Mr Halton-Jones, believe me, I don’t mind when I get such accurate and quick answers. Now—’

  ‘In fact, I think that exact equation is an example in the new textbook.’ Richard frowned, pursing his lips. ‘I’m sure I saw it.’

  ‘The hell it is,’ snapped Jake.

  ‘Well, Jake, if you feel the need to cram during the holidays so you can keep up with the rest of us, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  Jake half-rose. ‘You can kiss my—’

  ‘Gentlemen!’ barked Stolz. The red flush had crept up to his cheekbones. ‘Jake, sit down. I will not have such behaviour in my classroom. See me afterwards.’

  Cassie exchanged a shocked glance with Isabella, who raised her eyebrows. Stolz simply turned back to the board, consulting the book in his left hand. It trembled very slightly.

  ‘Richard.’ A languid voice broke the awkward silence. ‘Ayeesha is quite right. Behave yourself. You are setting our new scholarship girl a bad example.’

  Richard grinned. ‘Whatever you say, Katerina. I do apologise.’

  ‘In fact, we must all apologise.’ Katerina checked her watch. ‘Herr Stolz, a Congress has been called for the Few. Please do excuse us?’ Her expectant smile was sweet, but she was already gathering her books. So were several other students.

  Only Ayeesha looked embarrassed as she got to her feet. ‘I’m so sorry, Herr Stolz. You should have been notified.’

  Stolz turned. ‘Thank you, Ayeesha. You’re right, I wasn’t informed, but – yes, of course.’ He tightened his fingers on the chalk, and it snapped. ‘You may go.’

  Waste of breath, thought Cassie. They were already going, and Stolz wasn’t even trying to delay them. The expression on his face was a weird mixture of fury, apprehension and relief.

  ‘Incidentally, Ranjit sends his apologies.’ Katerina’s tongue lingered on the name. Her attention flicked around the rest of the class, then came to rest on Stolz. ‘He had important Few business this morning, but hopes to resume his classes tomorrow.’

  Cassie couldn’t help but gasp. Nobody else took any notice as the students left the room, all chatting easily except for the silently apologetic Ayeesha. Keiko threw one last scowl in Cassie’s direction, and then they were gone.

  The rest of the class waited expectantly as Stolz fiddled with the broken chalk. Cassie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. That crowd might have asked the teacher’s permission to leave, but they hadn’t waited for the answer. And who did Ranjit Singh think he was?

  Stolz made no comment, no comment at all.

  ‘Now.’ He cleared his throat and jabbed his stub of chalk viciously at the board. ‘The value of z …’

  *

  ‘What was that about?’ Cassie liked maths, but she’d been itching for the lesson to end so she could buttonhole Isabella in the corridor. ‘Are classes optional for prefects, or what?’

  Isabella pushed her hair carelessly behind her ear. ‘They’re not prefects. They’re the Few. They do more or less as they like.’ Shrugging, she marched down the corridor. ‘Some of them take advantage, some of them don’t.’

  ‘But who are they?’

  ‘The Few – I told you. Sir Alric’s favourites.’ She flicked her fingers dismissively.

  ‘But they don’t seem to give a toss about the teachers.’

  ‘Well. They are much more important than mere teachers, Cassie.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’

  ‘Seriously. The Few practically run the school. Not officially, of course, but that’s how it really is. Don’t get on the wrong side of them, is my advice to you. Some of them are perfectly nice, but others …’

  ‘That’s crazy. Who gets to be, er, Few?’

  Isabella shrugged, snorting. ‘The best and cleverest and most beautiful. Hah!’

  Cassie nudged her, grinning. ‘So why aren’t you one of them?’

  Isabella laughed. ‘You’re too kind, Cassie. You want me to tell you the truth? They have not asked me! There.’

  ‘That’s kind of hard to believe,’ said Cassie. ‘Maybe the mean ones are jealous. Blackballing you or something. You’re much better looking than Keiko, and I bet you’re smarter too.’

  ‘Oh, sure. And she knows it.’ Isabella grinned at her. ‘Well, they have an initiation this term, that’s what I hear. That means someone else joins the Few.’

  ‘Then it has to be you!’

  ‘They can ask, if they like. Or not. As they wish.’ Isabella tilted her chin haughtily. ‘Perry Hutton is – what do you say? – gagging for it. But it’s not as if I care one way or the other.’

  Yeah, thought Cassie dryly. Sure.

  ‘What about Katerina? Is she Head Girl?’

  ‘Boss Cat, more like.’ Isabella wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Where’s she from?’

  ‘Sweden,’ said Isabella carelessly.

  Oh, right. So Cassie’s movie-star casting had been spot-on. Not that she could imagine Katerina ever Vanting to Be Alone, though. Who else was Swedish? Abba? Cassie wrinkled her nose. Not such a good comparison.

  ‘I can see her in a silver catsuit, though,’ she muttered under her breath.

  ‘What? Oh, look. Here they come.’ Isabella dug her in the ribs.

  The chattering throng of students in the marble hall quietened, parting nervously. Through them came the missing students from their maths class, together with another six or seven others, equally beautiful. Some of them – Ayeesha, a blonde girl at her side, and the Irish boy, Cormac – called to friends and peeled off from the haughty group. The others stalked past their fellow students as if no one existed but themselves.

  ‘They must have finished their Congress. You see? Sir Alric’s favourites cannot even have meetings like anyone else. They have to have a Congress.’

  Cassie got the impression Isabella wanted to spit, but her air of mischief was quickly restored. ‘Cassie, come! I must introduce you to Ranjit!’

  Oh, God.

  Why the bolt of sheer terror? Cassie shook her head. He was only a boy. Kind of a beautiful one, though, and even nicer up close. Fanciable. And he had style too. His black jacket was as sharp as anything she’d seen, but he wore it with a casual confidence that Cassie had never seen in someone of her own age. She felt her mind drain of all intelligent thought as Isabella dragged her up to him.

  ‘Ranjit!’

  He turned, and Cassie took a breath. He was standing right beneath one of the more stunning statues. God, thought Cassie, he makes Achilles look like a slob …

  It was hard to believe those gentle amber eyes had seemed so frightening last night.

  Ranjit nodded. ‘Isabella.’

  The Argentinian girl kissed him briskly. Cassie hoped she wasn’t going to cut herself on his cheekbones. ‘Ranjit, this is Cassie Bell. She is new here. Say hello!’

  ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘Cassandra Bell.’

  She managed to smile. Or something. More of a grimace, really. She’d never heard such a low and beautiful voice, and it made her insides mush. God Almighty. The only word that popped into her head
– apart from wow – was unattainable.

  ‘Cassandra Bell,’ he repeated. ‘You’re the—’

  ‘Scholarship girl,’ she said tightly.

  Ranjit made an odd face that was half-smile, half-frown. ‘I was going to say, you’re the clever one.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Cassie lamely. ‘Right.’

  ‘So, what do you think of the place so far?’

  Blimey. He sounded genuinely interested. Perhaps not so unattainable after all.

  ‘Well, it’s very different—’ she began, but Ranjit’s gaze was already slipping past her.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he interrupted brusquely, his focus now somewhere over her left shoulder. ‘Well, excuse me.’ And with that he turned away and vanished into the crowd.

  Ouch. Cassie had never felt so comprehensively snubbed. Not so interested, then.

  ‘Oh.’ Coming to a halt beside them, Katerina pouted. ‘Always rushing off. Poor Ranjit. So hard-working.’

  Richard was at Katerina’s shoulder, and he murmured in her ear, ‘Didn’t you have something to discuss with him?’

  ‘I did indeed.’ Smiling, Katerina kissed him on the cheek and slipped away.

  Now she’d had a moment to recover, Cassie’s empty feeling of shock was rapidly being filled up with anger. Poor Ranjit, indeed. Who did the stuck-up tosser think he was?

  If anyone in this place deserved sympathy, it was Jake. Just about every boy in the hall was surreptitiously ogling Katerina, but the American, belatedly arriving after his scolding from Stolz, was hypnotised. Even when the Swede had disappeared from sight, he still stared after her. Oh, he had it bad all right. But the boy wearing his heart on his sleeve this morning was the same boy who was prowling the corridors last night. What was he up to?

  ‘Cassie Bell, you’re quite the star.’

  Cassie jumped back into reality as Richard took hold of her arms and kissed her cheek before she had time to jerk away.

  She gave him a suspicious look. ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘Stolz’s new golden girl – the maths genius. You’ll put me to shame.’