Emily huffed. ‘What is it you wanted?’
‘Nothing. Tom’s throwing a party, and you’re all invited.’ Viola uncrossed her arms. ‘Charlotte too, if she’s not too busy avoiding you.’
For a moment, all ice seemed to melt.
‘A party?’ Hattie’s excitement mirrored Gwenhwyfar’s own. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. Half-seven: at his house,’ Viola revealed with reluctance. ‘But it’s not like you have to come, or anything. I’m sure you all have better things to do with your time. You know, like bitch about Charlotte?’
‘Whatever,’ Emily remarked. ‘Who’s going?’
‘The usual, but he wanted me to make sure you’re coming because one of his friends fancies her.’ She managed to muster a certain amount of disgust when looking at Gwenhwyfar, who recoiled under the insult.
‘Who? Not Gavin again?’ The others looked her way with surprise.
‘No.’ Viola expelled an irritable sigh. ‘Tom’s other friend, Hector.’
Gwenhwyfar found herself gaining interest. ‘Who’s Hector?’
‘Are you coming, or what?’
The classroom was beginning to fill up. Bedivere was walking to his desk with Morgan, and for a moment Gwenhwyfar’s attention was diverted. They were talking amiably, and it annoyed her. The doe-eyed girl had still barely said more than two words to her, despite Gwenhwyfar’s continued efforts. Hattie and Emily consulted one another with a quick glance.
‘Yeah, definitely,’ Hattie enthused.
‘Why not?’ Emily added. ‘Gwen?’
Once again Gwenhwyfar recalled her narcissistic fantasies from a few nights ago, and felt them dance around her head. ‘Whatever. I’ll go if I have to.’
* * *
By the time the bell drove them into the corridors they had forgotten all about Charlotte. English was Gwenhwyfar’s first lesson of the day, and she soon caught up with Bedivere. He was not alone. With the lack of hospitality that Morgan had shown her still green in her mind, Gwenhwyfar closed the final few paces between them.
‘Hey Morgan.’ She flashed the surprised girl a wide smile, positioning herself between her and Bedivere. ‘Thanks for letting me share your History book the other day. It was really kind of you.’
Stunned, Morgan failed to respond, then frowned as she realised the other girl had no reason to thank her at all.
‘Gwen, right?’ Bedivere enquired, pleased by the fresh company. ‘Who walked into us on Monday?’
‘That’s right.’ Gwenhwyfar flicked her hair over her shoulder, a move she had seen both her mother and Emily perform numerous times. ‘I’m sorry about that. Emily never looks where she’s going.’ The mention of her friend’s name sparked interest in his eyes. ‘Bedivere, right?’ He nodded. ‘It’s a cool name. I would’ve sat next to you on Tuesday, but when I came in you weren’t there.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not usually late. I had to take a detour to the Maths department to hand in some homework. I thought he wouldn’t make me do it as I was ill when it was set, but I thought wrong.’
Gwenhwyfar ignored Morgan as she tromped beside her in annoyance. ‘How horrible! Was that Mr Slow? He gave me almost a month’s worth of homework yesterday, even though I didn’t go here last term. He said it was essential I should catch up.’
Bedivere laughed. Morgan tried to say something.
‘That does sound like him, yes. He’s not the most popular of teachers around here. How are you finding Logres so far?’
‘Good,’ she beamed. ‘Everyone’s really nice. Everyone I’ve met so far, at least. I just wish I knew more people in my lessons. I hate sitting on my own.’
‘Bedivere—!’
Gwenhwyfar looked to her left in annoyance. Morgan seemed bent out of shape.
‘I have to go, but I’ll see you later, all right?’
Gwenhwyfar walked on, and much to her delight Bedivere did too.
‘All right.’ He smiled and sent her a brief wave over his shoulder. ‘Have fun in Science.’
As Morgan scurried off down the hall, Bedivere was already talking again, and when they came into the stuffy room with verbs and poems scattered about the walls he was happy for her to follow him to his seat. He didn’t say much during the lesson, preferring to work with his head down, but Gwenhwyfar didn’t mind, as she was often the same. Looking at the cover of his exercise book she discovered that he had a delightfully long name, Greenstone-Jones, which in full made him sound like a gentleman of the past.
When the time came to pack up, she decided to go for it. ‘So how long have you known Arthur?’
‘Arthur? Since year eight. I only met him when I moved here. How about you and Emily?’ Nervously, he filled his rucksack. ‘Did you know her before you came here?’
‘No. She’s been really nice though. Are you friends?’
‘Not really.’ They slipped out of the classroom and made their way through the busy corridors. ‘She hangs around with other girls all the time. What have you got next?’
A current fired through her stomach and made her whole body fill with warmth. She didn’t get to sit anywhere near Arthur in Science, but he was still there, sitting in the same class as her, still there for her to gaze at secretively. ‘Biology. I don’t know anyone there, either.’
‘You’ll get to know people, don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘Would you like me to walk you?’
‘Please. I’ve got lost so many times this week, it’s ridiculous.’
He laughed his musical laugh as they scaled the stairs together, Gwenhwyfar using the brass railing as a means to haul herself up around the cold stone walls. ‘So you didn’t always come here, then?’
‘No, my parents moved here from East Anglia. They were worried about being so close to the coast and flooding.’
‘Did you mind?’ She slipped through the door he held open for her. ‘Moving, I mean.’
‘I hated it at first,’ he admitted, ‘but I made some friends, met Arthur, then things didn’t seem so bad. This place isn’t so terrible once you get used to it. It’s actually supposed to be the best school in the area.’
Gwenhwyfar’s attention turned to the queue outside the laboratory she was due to be sitting in for the next hour and a half. Above the level of everyone else’s heads she could see Arthur’s, his eyes boring into the lockers opposite him as he stood cross-armed against the wall. Her plan to tell Bedivere this was where he could leave her vanished the moment he spotted him.
‘Arthur!’ he grinned, bounding towards him. ‘I forgot you had this now.’
Drawn out of his reverie Arthur blinked, and then smiled. ‘Bedivere, what are you doing here?’
‘Chaperoning our newest student to her lesson. She says she doesn’t know anyone.’
‘Well, we have something in common, then.’ Straightening, Arthur stood away from the wall. ‘You can sit with me if you like. Or I can sit with you. I was getting tired of being so close to the front, anyway.’
‘This is your class?’
‘Yep!’ Gwenhwyfar did her best to appear confident. ‘I think so, at least. I’m pretty sure this is the room I was in last time.’
‘It should be, as you’ve been coming here for the past two days.’ Arthur smiled, and Gwenhwyfar found her heart fluttering with the notion that he had noticed. The teacher called them in, and Bedivere peeled himself away.
‘I should probably go,’ he told them. ‘Don’t want to be late again. I’m never late. I’ll see you at break though, yeah? Bye, Gwen.’
Suddenly they were standing in a disastrous silence with no Bedivere to mediate. Gwenhwyfar offered Arthur an inviting smile, hoping he’d strike up conversation, but he merely smiled back and followed her into the laboratory, looking as awkward as she felt.
‘So where are we sitting?’ she tried, hiding her reddening cheeks beneath the veil of her hair.
‘Where you usually sit, perhaps?’
They reached her empty desk at the back of the classroom
. She pulled out a stool and climbed onto it, finding them as ever to be stupidly high, while Arthur glided sideways onto his seat with casual elegance.
‘I feel like it’s been raining all week,’ Gwenhwyfar said, keeping her eyes on the chalkboard.
‘It hasn’t been raining that much,’ Arthur shrugged, missing the point entirely.
‘We’ve had rain pretty much every day since I got here,’ Gwenhwyfar disputed. ‘Maybe I brought it with me. From Wales.’ He was watching her with a frown. ‘So I thought you knew those people you were sitting next to,’ was her next attempt. ‘Don’t you know anyone?’
‘I know you,’ Arthur quipped. Gwenhwyfar smiled, and that seemed to please him.
‘But you’ve only just met me.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘I meant other than me.’
‘Oh. No, then. I guess I know them, but we’re not friends.’
‘How come?’
‘I don’t know, we just don’t talk much.’
‘You don’t? Well, then that’s their loss, isn’t it? And it means I get to sit next to you, instead.’
As he smiled her heart did a cartwheel. It seemed that neither one of them knew what to say after that, but their teacher soon rescued them. The lights were switched off and the blinds were shut, leaving the room in the blue glow of the ancient television suspended above the door.
Gwenhwyfar leant towards Arthur, half as an excuse to talk to him, half as an excuse to get closer. ‘What are we watching?’
‘Something about osmosis,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Something about plant cells and water.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘how interesting.’
‘Very,’ Arthur stressed. ‘It gets better—it’ll probably cover facilitated diffusion next. Exciting.’
She let out a laugh which was definitely too loud. Their teacher shushed them. Gwenhwyfar tried to focus on something other than her euphoria, but failed and giggled in silence, and soon Arthur was telling her off too, half-amused, half-perplexed how he could be so witty.
‘It wasn’t that funny.’
‘Sorry,’ she gasped, ‘I can’t help it.’
As soon as his eyes met hers again she smiled, and he did too. ‘You’re peculiar, you know that?’
‘I am? Thanks. That’s nice.’
‘No, in a good way,’ he corrected, forgetting to lower his voice. The three girls sat in front of them glanced back, wondering what the joke was.
‘Oh, thanks then, I think.’
‘I said quiet!’ Gwenhwyfar jumped. The teacher’s voice cut through the class. ‘Do you want to go to the principal’s office?’
This was threat enough to silence the two, albeit an amused silence with hidden smiles. Most students preferred to avoid the headmaster, as he was an ominous figure, one who stalked the halls in a blue suit with an expression of thunder. Dr Ravioli was often called the Nutcracker, due to his resemblance to one, though this name stemmed from the more boisterous groups of the school and was largely only used by them.
* * *
Gwenhwyfar found Emily, Hattie and Charlotte waiting for her in the canteen at break, huddled around their usual table. She predicted the interrogation before she joined them.
‘Was that Arthur?’ Hattie gushed, knowing full well it was.
Teasing, Gwenhwyfar looked over her shoulder. ‘Where?’
‘There. You were just talking to him. I saw you walk in together!’
‘You did?’ Emily sat up to look for him.
‘Only because we had Science,’ Gwenhwyfar dismissed. ‘We were just talking, that’s all.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s all!’ She gave them both a sly smile. ‘Honestly, I only sat next to him in class. Nothing happened.’
‘Nothing happened always means something happened. Doesn’t it, Em?’
‘What did you talk about?’ Emily demanded. ‘How, even? You said you were stuck at the back of the room, miles from where he sits.’
Suddenly Gwenhwyfar launched into a full account of her lesson with Bedivere, how she’d sent Morgan packing, and how Arthur had ‘practically begged’ to sit with her.
‘Morgan looked so morose when she walked past us on our way down here,’ she revealed, remembering the look on Morgan’s face when she spotted Arthur with another girl. ‘You’re right, Em. She clearly fancies him. But he didn’t look at her, not once.’
‘So he likes you then?’ Hattie persisted. Charlotte alienated herself from the group with a large scowl. Gwenhwyfar shrugged. She liked Arthur, and he was pleasant and polite to her, but she had the feeling he was pleasant and polite to everyone.
‘I don’t know. We get on so well though. We could hardly stop talking. The teacher had to tell us off three times.’
‘Is he going to the party tomorrow?’ Emily’s excitement was palpable. Both her hyenas craned to get closer.
‘Oh! You should see if he’s going. Is he?’
Gwenhwyfar felt silly for not having thought of it herself. ‘I don’t know, I didn’t ask. Should I?’
‘Definitely. Where is he?’ Emily hunted for Gwenhwyfar’s prey, scanning the hall for the correct table. Viola was laughing hysterically at something Tom had done, while someone Gwenhwyfar hadn’t seen before spoke quietly with Gavin. She wondered if it was Hector. If it was, his appearance didn’t match his heroic name at all; he had a weak chin and a resentful scowl that darkened his already dour demeanour.
‘Over there, by the fire escape,’ she confirmed, her eyes slipping past the unmemorable Hector and straight to Arthur. ‘Stop staring! He’s looking at us!’
‘He is?’ The moment Emily spotted him her eyes dropped to the table.
Gwenhwyfar was going red. ‘I’m not going to ask him now, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Why not? It’s either now or in History, where everyone will hear. I can come with you if you like.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘Do you want him to go to the party or what?’ Emily was already on her feet.
‘I’ll do it later!’ she hissed, sinking lower. ‘It’ll look silly if I go now.’
‘Gwen’s right. I think it will make her look desperate.’ Charlotte’s words were as stiff as the mouth they left.
‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous! Come on Hattie, we’ll go.’
‘No!’ Gwenhwyfar leapt up. That was the last thing she wanted, she didn’t need Arthur to think he was being ridiculed. ‘I’ll go. But you’re coming with me, as it was your idea.’
They made their way towards Arthur’s table. Bedivere had already spotted Emily and was staring at her in awe. The frown in Arthur’s brow nearly put Gwenhwyfar off, but Emily wasn’t cowed. She joined them both with a wide, pink smile. ‘Hey!’
The boys said nothing. Bedivere gazed at Emily open-mouthed, while Arthur eyed her with distrust.
‘Sorry to bother you again,’ Emily proceeded, ‘but Gwen and I were wondering if you were coming to the party tomorrow night.’
Arthur frowned at her. ‘What party?’
‘Tom’s party.’
Their blank response wasn’t promising.
‘You know, Tom! Tom Hareton. Viola’s boyfriend?’
‘I know Tom,’ Arthur said. ‘We’re not invited.’
‘You are,’ Emily insisted. ‘Viola asked us to ask you. You have to come.’
He shifted and looked to the other end of the hall. ‘When is it?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Can’t, I have work. Tell Viola I’m sorry.’
Emily scoffed. ‘Work? Who has to work?’
‘What time?’ Bedivere interrupted.
‘Half-seven.’
He looked to his friend eagerly. ‘Don’t you finish at half-five on Fridays?’ Arthur shrugged. ‘I can go,’ Bedivere volunteered.
‘Great,’ Emily uttered, not interested. ‘Arthur?’
‘I’ll have to se
e,’ he evaded.
Gwenhwyfar began to rethink her earlier assessment of his interest in her. ‘Well, we’ll both be there,’ she dared. ‘So if you can make it, it’d be nice.’
He seemed unsettled, but mustered an encouraging smile. ‘I’ll think about it.’
There was little promise in his words. Feeling hope deflate within her, Gwenhwyfar strode back to their table. Hattie and Charlotte had been gossiping; not unusual, but the sudden halt of the intense whispering on their arrival made her uncomfortable.
‘Well, is he going?’ Charlotte asked, smugly.
Gwenhwyfar sent her a false smile. ‘Of course he’s coming. Isn’t he, Em?’
Emily glanced back to the table where the two boys were seated. Bedivere was harassing Arthur doggedly. ‘Definitely.’
Proverbial Daggers
Gwenhwyfar wondered if she’d misheard Emily.
They had organised to meet at the back of the Maths block, but after waiting patiently for ten minutes Emily was nowhere to be seen. Deciding she must have forgotten, Gwenhwyfar investigated their other meets, but to no avail. As she explored the grounds around Badbury, checking the small pockets in the walls of the music rooms, her stomach began to growl. Familiar voices drew her out towards the tennis courts. She stopped the moment she saw Viola, but turned back too late.
‘Are you lost?’
Viola approached with her arms crossed, and reluctantly Gwenhwyfar turned to face her. ‘No. Have you seen Emily?’
The thin girl observed her with narrowed eyes. ‘Why? Has she discarded you already?’
‘What does she want?’ Tom was surprisingly intimidating for someone so slight. Not quite as intimidating as the giant who stood behind him, though. Gavin Miles towered above all their heads and had a thick, florid face that, though babyish, was threatening due to his muteness. He had wide blue eyes that gazed out from under a high forehead and low, expressive eyebrows. The boy she had seen in the canteen stood beside him, whom Gwenhwyfar had guessed to be Hector. He was staring rather evidently at her chest.
‘I’m looking for Emily,’ she explained, ‘and Hattie.’
‘Hattie?’ Tom repeated, finding something amusing.
The Future King: Logres Page 4
