When he spoke she nearly jumped.
‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me?’
Slowly, Allie raised her eyes from her paper to find him watching her fixedly.
‘Ex … Excuse me?’
‘I said. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?’
Something about the way he said it was menacing. Allie’s skin crawled.
What had he heard?
She shook her head vigorously. ‘No … Sir?’
‘Are you certain?’ He leaned forward, his fingertips resting on the desktop.
The colour drained from Allie’s cheeks but she held herself steady. She was starting to get angry, but she knew that was probably just what he wanted.
What is he so pissed off about? All he could have heard was me refusing to talk about Night School. So why is he being such a wanker?
She spoke coolly, her voice more confident than she felt. ‘There is nothing I want to ask you right now, Mr Zelazny. Thank you.’
Lowering her eyes to her book, she pretended not to notice the sharp intake of breath and the sound of a drawer slamming shut.
Just as she thought she might have to flee the classroom, Sylvain walked in. ‘August,’ he said to Zelazny without waiting for a hello, ‘I have a quick question about the assignment …’ He seemed to notice Allie and the tension in the room at the same moment; his voice trailed off.
Desperate, Allie caught his gaze, and tried to plead for help with her eyes. Her heart rate accelerated as their eyes locked.
He did have the most ludicrously watercolour-blue eyes.
‘What’s your question, Sylvain?’ Zelazny snapped impatiently. ‘I’m busy.’
But Sylvain seemed suddenly uninterested in being rushed. ‘The essay you assigned for tomorrow … Can you explain exactly what you’re seeking from it? I found the assignment a little vague.’
‘I think I was quite clear,’ Zelazny said. ‘I’ve got it right here.’
As he flipped through the papers piled on his desk, Sylvain caught Allie’s eye again. And winked.
All day Allie expected to hear from whoever was going to interview her. Each time someone called her name or tapped her on the shoulder, she expected to hear a voice asking her questions she didn’t know how to answer. Everybody else was preparing for their interview, but she had still not been contacted.
She’d come up with a variety of conspiracy theories to explain the silence. Maybe, knowing what she knew about her family, Isabelle had kept her out of it altogether. Or maybe she was going to conduct the interview herself.
Either way, she wasn’t going to talk about it to anyone except Isabelle. And she wasn’t in a huge hurry to do that.
After the incident in the classroom she’d avoided Jo. That whole conversation had been strange. She hadn’t told anybody about it because she didn’t want to seem paranoid. But she still didn’t understand why Jo would have put her in that position.
At dinner, she made sure she sat between Lucas and Carter. Both in Night School. Both safe.
When Lucas suggested a game of night tennis, she looked at him doubtfully. ‘I am so behind on my work—’
‘Let’s do it.’ From across the table, Jo cut her off. ‘Defo. It’s been ages. Who’s in?’
Everybody raised their hands except Allie and Carter.
‘I can’t.’ Carter shrugged. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Zelazny to talk about an assignment. There’s no escape.’ He glanced at Allie. ‘You should do it, though. You’ll like it.’
‘Yeah, come on, Allie,’ Rachel said. ‘You really should. It’ll be fun.’
The others’ enthusiasm was hard to resist so, later that evening, she walked out into the cold with Rachel. But she still wasn’t convinced.
As they pulled equipment out of a utility closet, Allie shivered. ‘It’s freezing. Why are we doing this?’
‘Don’t be so wet.’ Jo handed Lucas a racquet and a box of balls. ‘We’re doing it because it’s awesome.’
Guiltily, Allie wondered if Jo had noticed she’d been trying to avoid her. Even now she stood three people away from her.
‘Yeah, Allie.’ Lucas threw her a tennis ball, but her reflexes were too slow and it bounced off her shoulder and rolled back across the ground to him. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of hardened athlete? I can’t believe you think this is cold.’
When she sighed, her breath puffed out in a visible irritated cloud. But she didn’t want to be a wimp.
‘I’m not saying we shouldn’t do it at all.’ She swung her racquet awkwardly.
As they hooted at her change of tone, Rachel put a loyal arm across her shoulders.
‘It is cold. But that makes it even better,’ she said. ‘Wait and see.’ As she turned to grab some netting though, she seemed to remember something. ‘Oh, one thing. I forgot to tell you that—’
‘Well, are we playing or just standing around?’ Katie Gilmore’s crystalline voice preceded her across the frozen grass. Her long red hair was pulled up in a smooth ponytail, and she wore a ski-style headband that covered her ears.
With betrayal in her eyes, Allie turned to Rachel. ‘You must be joking.’
‘She invited herself.’ Wincing apologetically, Rachel hurried off with her equipment as Allie stared after her.
‘Oh, Allie. You’re not playing too, are you?’ Katie eyed her with mild disdain. ‘Where did you learn to play tennis? Do they even play tennis in Brixton?’