London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

Amy looks back at us, her nostrils flaring, so I close my mouth.

  I walk in silence for a minute next to Olivia and then turn back around, where Noah is huffing behind me. Even though he helped me, he doesn’t look happy about any of this.

  When we get into the office, Amy makes us sit down in the waiting room under the watchful eye of the secretary while she goes into the headmaster’s office.

  “I can’t believe you were having a bitch fight,” Noah whispers, leaning toward me.

  “She attacked me,” I whisper back. “Like, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?” I feel like I could cry. I shouldn’t have to defend myself to him.

  His eyes soften, and he puts the back of his hand against my cheek where Olivia slapped me. His hand is cool, and it feels good against my skin.

  “Follow me,” Amy says sternly, coming out of the office.

  She looks upset and flustered, and it makes me wonder what the rest of our yoga classes will be like. For as sweet and Zen as she was on Tuesday, her serene nature seems to be gone. I guess that’s the power of Olivia Winters. She takes sane people and drives them mad.

  “Second time today, Miss James,” our headmaster says as Noah, Olivia, Mohammad, and I shuffle into the room. “Seems you can’t keep your lips, or your hands, to yourself.”

  Olivia turns to me, her eyes trying to burn a hole through me as I sink down into one of the open chairs across from the headmaster’s desk.

  I can’t decide if I should speak up in defense of myself or just keep my mouth shut.

  I don’t get the chance to say anything because Mohammad pipes up, “Sir, I’m not sure that Noah and I should be here. You see, all we did was help end the fight.”

  I turn, glaring at his betrayal.

  “Yes, I heard as much, Mohammad.” The headmaster nods. “Yet I also heard that it was you who went running into the weight room in the middle of the football team’s training session to announce,” he says, looking down at a piece of paper on his desk, “ ‘Girl fight.’ How admirable of you to have stumbled upon these two while you were not in your sport and announce to an entire class that these ladies were wrestling in the hallway.”

  Mohammad’s eyes go wide, and I smile, looking over my shoulder at him. Because take that!

  Noah stands silently, and Headmaster Compton’s gaze flicks to him. “Detention after school for both of you,” he says.

  Noah nods. Mohammad moans.

  I wonder if he’s going to say anything else, but he doesn’t.

  “As for the two of you,” the headmaster says, looking between Olivia and me, “would either of you like to explain to me what this was about, or shall I start guessing?”

  I glance at Olivia, wondering what lies she will come up with.

  She takes a deep breath, seemingly to collect herself. “It’s a girl thing, Headmaster Compton. No need to go into the details. We’re just sorry for having caused such a scene.”

  Olivia says the words sincerely and plainly, and I almost believe her.

  But she has to be kidding, right?

  She can’t actually believe that the headmaster is going to allow that answer to suffice.

  “Yes, well, it was a rather unfortunate outburst,” he admits, agreeing with her. “One I will not tolerate again,” he adds sternly.

  Olivia nods, looking pitiful, and I decide to imitate her look. I nod, keeping my chin tucked down even though I want to scream that I know she isn’t sorry.

  But my cheek burns, and I really don’t feel like digging myself into a bigger hole.

  “As such, you two will have an additional detention tonight and one tomorrow. And this weekend, I expect you to volunteer for the school. I believe we have a few athletic events happening on Saturday. Make yourselves useful,” he states, slamming his hands on his desk.

  We nod in agreement, and then we are all out of his office and making our way back to the locker rooms. Olivia doesn’t say anything; she just walks a few paces ahead of us.

  “Mum’s going to have my head,” Mohammad says, covering his face with his hands.

  “You deserve it,” I say, glaring at him. “You totally threw us under the bus in there.”

  “You two were the ones fighting,” he argues.

  “And you’re the one who called in a whole pack of people to watch,” I counter.

  “Come on, Mallory. I had to! I was walking down the hallway, and all of a sudden, I see you two fighting. It was like every boy’s wet dream. All that was missing was Jell-O and wet T-shirts.”

  I shake my head at him.

  “I’ve never seen so many guys shuffle out of the weight room so quickly,” Noah admits with a chuckle.

  “Is this funny to both of you?” I say, stopping and crossing my arms in a huff.

  “It was more intense than funny,” Mohammad replies, weighing his options on how to respond.

  “It wasn’t funny. She attacked me.”

  “You weren’t exactly losing the fight,” Noah counters.

  “Whatever.” I push past them, moving farther down the hallway.

  I see Olivia go into the locker room, and I follow her in silence. I open my locker, grabbing my uniform. I’m not sure if we’re expected to change for detention, but I decide it’s probably best if I do. I button up my shirt and put on my skirt as I hear the door close, Olivia already gone.

  A few minutes later, girls come flooding in as the bell rings. And it’s probably a good thing that I’m not alone. Because I’m no longer mad or upset. I just feel hurt and defeated.

  And I feel like I have no one on my side.

  I rush out of the locker room, pushing past the girls crowding around the door. When I finally get a breath of air, I try to pull myself together.

  I search the hallway, looking for somewhere to hide, some relief.

  And that’s when I spot Noah.

  He’s already changed back into his uniform, and he is leaning against the wall, his leg crossed over the other. He’s on the phone, his expression flat, but when he sees me, his eyes soften. I rush toward him, wrapping myself around him, needing a hug.

  He’s tense for a moment but then relaxes against me.

  “Bye, Mum,” he says into the phone.

  I try not to think about what Helen will say and just bury my head in his chest.

  “Mal,” he says, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

  “I don’t want to talk,” I whimper. I’m trying really hard not to cry.

  Noah is warm and comforting, and I need him to just hold me.

  “It’s all right,” he says, smoothing my hair. “I talked to Mum, told her we’ll explain everything tonight.”

  I nod against him, not wanting to let go. I’m not sure what to say to Helen, to him—to anyone.

  Noah pulls back, looking down at me. My eyes betray me, and I feel a fat tear roll down my face.

  “How’s your cheek?” he asks, his gaze narrowing in on it.

  “It stings,” I admit as another tear escapes.

  Noah gently pushes it away with his finger.

  “I just feel shocked. And upset. Everyone’s been acting like it’s no big deal, but it is, Noah. She’s been insulting me for days. Then in yoga, she lunges at me. Scratches me. Pulls my hair. She basically slaps the shit out of me. And what? I get the same punishment as her? That’s not fair,” I say, my voice strained.

  “It’s not,” Noah agrees. “But I think Olivia was mortified by it all. I’ve seen her embarrassed before but not like that. I’m not sure if it’s any consolation though.”

  “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

  “You didn’t,” he replies. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just holds me, one hand soothingly rubbing my back.

  I breathe in sync with the motion of his hand, aching to calm down.

  When I finally feel better, I pull away from him. “Thanks,” I say sincerely, feeling myself blush.

  “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figured it was best to calm you
down before detention. Don’t need to break up another fight, do I?” he says, cracking a grin.

  “I think if I end up in the headmaster’s office again, they might send me home,” I admit. “Like back to New York home.”

  “See,” Noah says, giving my shoulder a squeeze, “we can’t have that happening, now can we?”

  I shake my head at him. “No, that wouldn’t be good.” I rub under my eyes, making sure there aren’t any traces of tears.

  Noah walks with me to detention, stopping by my locker to grab my art notebook and statistics textbook. I figure the best thing I can do is bring enough homework to distract myself and hope that the time flies by.

  When we finally get to the classroom that Headmaster Compton told us to go to after the bell, we find Harry already in the room.

  He gives me a wink, but when Noah walks in and sits down in one of the open seats, I can tell he’s surprised.

  “You’re in detention?” Harry asks, getting up from his chair, and walking toward Noah.

  I take a seat, not wanting to explain everything that happened.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Noah confirms, nodding his head.

  “Well, that’s a first.” Harry laughs, obviously entertained. “What was it? Were you late for class? Only get one of the two extra credit assignments turned in for Statistics? Or wait, please tell me it was something dirty with a teacher. I would be so proud.”

  Harry is grinning from ear to ear, but when the door opens again and Mohammad and Olivia join us, his smile fades away.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he asks, turning serious.

  Mohammad gives me a head nod, and even though I’m still kind of mad at him, I give him a smile back.

  After all, it wasn’t his fault.

  It was mine and Olivia’s, and if I’m going to be mad at anyone, it should be her.

  “Didn’t you hear?” Mohammad asks as he takes a seat.

  “Obviously not,” Harry replies.

  I don’t say anything, and neither does Olivia. She crosses her arms over her chest, ripping her eyes away from Mohammad.

  Mohammad perks up, seemingly excited at an opportunity to tell the story again. “These two,” he says, wagging his finger between Olivia and me, “were fighting in Yoga. And I don’t mean like a catfight. They were battling it out. Rolling all over the ground. There was hair-pulling and screaming.”

  Harry whips his head toward me, expecting some kind of answer. When I don’t say anything, he gets up from his desk and comes to stand in front of me.

  “Mallory?” he questions.

  I don’t correct the story, and I don’t add anything. I just nod at Harry. He takes my hand into his and gives it a squeeze, then his gaze slides up my arm to the scratch marks. I see his face go red, and I instantly want to say something, anything to keep him from getting upset.

  But honestly, I don’t have the strength or energy to do anything other than sit here.

  Is it his place to stand up for me?

  Is it mine?

  Should Olivia apologize to me?

  There are so many questions and people involved that I have no clue what to do or say, so I just sit silently.

  “I cannot believe you,” Harry says, turning toward Olivia, his voice booming. His eyes look wild, and I notice Noah tense up, looking like he’s ready to intervene at any second.

  “You need to apologize to Mallory. Now,” Harry practically shouts.

  “Harry,” Olivia says, blushing.

  I watch her slump down into her chair, and I can tell that Noah was right—she is mortified.

  We’re both horribly embarrassed.

  “No. Apologize now. Because I know you, Olivia,” he says, his voice softening. “This isn’t you. You might be a bitch, and I kind of used to like that about you. But you’re not a fucking bully.”

  Olivia’s lips part, like she’s going to say something, but then her chin starts quivering, and I wonder if she’s going to start crying.

  But she bites her lip, nods at Harry, and then turns toward me. “I’m sorry I lunged at you,” she barely gets out.

  I see and feel each of her words, and I can tell from the way she says them that she does too.

  “And?” Harry says.

  “And,” she continues, her eyes flitting between Harry and me, “I’m sorry that I’ve been mean.”

  I nod my head at her, knowing that wasn’t easy for her to say. I want to appreciate her apology, but it might have meant more if she had said it on her own. “I’m sorry too.”

  Olivia nods at me.

  For a moment, I wonder if we might finally be done with this whole thing, but I realize that will never happen as long as she likes Harry and Harry likes me.

  I let out a breath as the teacher walks into the room and sits down at the desk in the front. He has a stack of papers, and I’m assuming he’ll use this time to grade.

  “We’re here for an hour,” he states. “No napping, no phones, no talking. I want to see you reading or doing homework.”

  Everyone stays silent. I pull out my statistics assignment, deciding I can be mad at that instead of this whole situation.

  Nothing seems black and white anymore. Not Statistics, not Art.

  Not my friendships here, my relationship to Harry, or my conflict with Olivia.

  Everything seems blurry and gray and a mess, and it has my head spinning. I look around. Noah is sketching on a piece of paper. Olivia pulls out a book to read. Mohammad has his head in his Latin textbook. Harry is flipping through a history book.

  And I wonder if maybe that’s okay.

  If it’s okay to be gray. If it’s okay to not know where I stand. To always feel sort of up in the air.

  But when I look at Harry, I know that things are not up in the air with him.

  I like him, and I know he likes me.

  And even though Mohammad is a gossip who flits about, he was my first friend here.

  Noah and I will probably always be back and forth—one second, laughing together, and the next, upset. But at least I know that isn’t changing anytime soon, and I know that he cares about me.

  I can see that Olivia is upset with herself and is trying to focus on her book. She flicks her gaze from Harry to the open page in front of her, causing me to feel just a little sorry for her.

  And I am sorry for having been mean back to her.

  I’m sorry for how much she must be hurting to have lashed out at me the way she did.

  I look back down at my statistics assignment, realizing that if I can handle all of this, I should at least be able to handle a single homework problem.

  An hour later, I realize that, though school and London might be tough, it actually doesn’t compare to Statistics. I close my book, feeling unaccomplished and wishing I had spent the hour dissecting my feelings or Helen and Mia’s relationship rather than attempting this one freaking problem.

  Olivia bolts out of the classroom. Harry takes my hand and leads me out to the hallway.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, looking upset.

  “It’s all right. It was bound to happen at some point,” I say, trying to laugh.

  “Maybe, but it should have been between me and Olivia. I’m sorry I let you get so involved in our drama,” he says, shaking his head.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Mohammad interjects, coming up alongside us. “Our girl’s got some strength to her. She definitely would have won the fight if Noah and I hadn’t stepped in.”

  Mohammad grins, but Harry shoots him an irritated glance.

  “It’s not funny,” Harry says, stopping in the hallway.

  “Harry,” Noah says from behind us.

  “No,” Harry says. “This isn’t a joke. Mallory could have been hurt. And I’m done laughing it off.”

  I look at Harry, surprised, but when I turn to Noah and Mohammad, they look even more taken aback.

  “Really?” Mohammad asks, his face softening.

  “Yes,” Harry sa
ys, his eyes moving between the two of them, his words settling into all of us.

  “All right then,” Noah says, connecting his gaze to Harry’s.

  “It won’t happen again,” Mohammad replies, agreeing.

  “I don’t want Olivia coming between us. Any of us,” Harry says, turning to look at me and then at Noah and Mohammad.

  “Never,” Mohammad says with a smile.

  He throws his arm over Harry’s shoulders, and Harry puts his over mine. I bring my arm around Noah’s waist, not reaching his shoulders, and we all walk out of school.

  Call these knickers.

  5:10pm

  “So, here’s the thing,” I say to Helen the second Noah and I walk through the door, already spotting her waiting for us in the living room.

  “Mallory,” Helen starts to say, but I keep going before I lose my nerve.

  “I had detention today and again tomorrow and two nights next week. And I also have to help out at a sporting event this weekend as punishment.” I search her face, wondering what her reaction will be.

  Helen looks shocked but not upset, and I instantly feel a little less sick to my stomach.

  “The headmaster’s office called me today and explained that you had been in the office not once, but twice,” she says. “Would you care to explain to me what happened?” She crosses her arms, looking from me to Noah, and takes a seat on the couch. “And you,” she says, directing her attention to Noah, “I was informed that you were also in the office today.”

  “Look, Mum,” Noah replies, “it wasn’t Mallory’s fault. Olivia basically attacked her. She’s already had a rough day, so take it easy on her.”

  Helen looks shocked by what she has heard, but she doesn’t look as upset about the whole detention situation anymore.

  “Noah, why don’t you go up to your room? Give Mallory and me a minute alone.”

  Noah nods, getting up off the couch and shuffling up the stairs.

  “What happened today?” Helen asks again.

  “The first time, Harry and I were caught kissing in the hallway. I know it was inappropriate.”

  “It certainly was,” she agrees, frowning at me.

  “That might have led to the second visit because … well, I was in Yoga. We had a water break, and Olivia followed me into the hallway. I’m not sure if she saw Harry and me and was upset, but she started saying mean things, and then she lunged at me. Basically, attacked me. Slapped me. We were sort of wrestling around, and I was trying to get her off me when Noah and Mohammad pulled us off one another, which is how the four of us ended up in the office.”