TWENTY-THREE
When she walked in to Isabelle’s office that afternoon and asked the usual question with her eyebrows and, looking at her over the top of her glasses, Isabelle gave the usual answer with a shake of her head, Allie plopped into the chair in front of her desk with a sigh.
‘Katie Gilmore wants me to go to that party at the castle on Friday night. I guess that means I shouldn’t go.’
Isabelle took off her glasses and set them down on the stack of papers in front of her. ‘I don’t think,’ she said, ‘that you should set your social calendar so that you only do what Katie Gilmore doesn’t want you to do.’
‘She says it’s legal,’ Allie said. ‘Is it? For girls on probation, I mean?’
Isabelle waved her hand. ‘It is “legal”, as you put it, in that nobody is punished for going. It’s a tradition. The students are trusted to go up and not burn the entire forest down. Teachers don’t go up and hover. Students are given an extra hour after curfew. If everyone minds their manners, it happens again next year. It’s been going on ever since the castle fell down; we certainly did it when I was a student here.’
Allie tried to imagine a sixteen-year-old Isabelle hanging out with her own sixteen-year-old mother and failed. ‘But is it,’ she shrugged, ‘you know … safe?’ It still felt weird talking about security and she mumbled the words. ‘Like, will Raj Patel be there?’
A melancholy smile flashed across the headmistress’ face. ‘It is both a sign of your progress and our lack of progress that you ask that question. But the answer is yes. Raj’s guards will be all around it. He’s calling in extra people for the night. It will be very safe.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Allie muttered, contrarily. ‘I probably won’t go. It’ll all be happy clappy campfire bollocks.’ Isabelle shot her a look. ‘Pardon my language.’
‘I’m going to say something that might shock you, Allie.’ Fixing her with a firm look, Isabelle leaned forward. ‘I want you to go to that party.’
‘Oh God.’ Allie slid down low in her chair. ‘Not you, too?’
Isabelle continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘The last few weeks have been so stressful for all of us, but especially for you. And with what’s happened between you and Carter …’ She walked around to the front of her desk until she was right in front of Allie. ‘I think you’ve handled everything incredibly well. Your work has been exemplary. But I’m worried about what’s going on in here.’ Gently, she tapped her forefinger against Allie’s heart. ‘And I’d like to see you have fun. Promise me you’ll go.’
Squirming, Allie looked to one side. ‘Isabelle …’ She really didn’t want to go now.
But Isabelle wasn’t going to be put off. ‘Promise me, as a condition of your probation, that you will go to this party and try to have fun.’
‘OK,’ Allie said with deep reluctance. ‘I’ll go. But I’m not promising to enjoy it.’
‘Good.’ Isabelle walked back around her desk. ‘But stay away from Katie Gilmore. You’re not good for each other. And you’re not allowed to fight.’
Allie glared at her. ‘Awesome.’
When Allie walked into the common room a few minutes later, she found Zoe was curled up on the sofa reading Mrs Dalloway with a baffled expression.
‘I don’t get it,’ she said, tossing the paperback on to the table beside her. ‘Everybody in this book lies all the time. It’s stupid. Nobody ever says what they mean. And why was everyone so depressed in history?’
‘War?’ Allie suggested, sitting on the other end of the long, leather couch.
‘We have war,’ Zoe pointed out. ‘But we’re not miserable.’ ‘True.’ Allie thought about it. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it was … diet.’
That seemed to mollify Zoe. ‘Vitamins.’ She nodded knowingly.
‘What are you two talking about?’ Rachel carried a stack of books so tall it reached her nose. It wobbled as she set it down gingerly on a table nearby.
‘Vitamins,’ Zoe explained.
‘Of course.’
Rachel shuffled the books in a complex system, like a thick deck of cards. Allie and Zoe exchanged puzzled looks. ‘Tea?’ Allie suggested hopefully. ‘Possibly with food?’
Rachel looked up, a dusty, leather-bound book dangling from one hand. ‘Absolutely.’
It was still several hours until dinner, and the kitchens were empty. Loaves of bread dough had been left to rise on one counter, covered in white cloths like tiny corpses. The room smelled sweetly of warm yeast.
There were two large refrigerators – one the students were allowed to open for milk and snacks. The other they weren’t meant to touch.
‘Let’s see …’ Opening the students’ fridge, Rachel peered inside. ‘Ooh, leftover sandwiches. Score!’ She pulled out a tray covered in plastic wrap with sandwich quarters neatly arranged. They were pouring tea when Jo walked in.
‘Great minds …’ she said, grabbing a mug.
‘So, about this stupid party …’ Allie sighed.
‘Don’t look at me.’ Looking almost panicked, Rachel stepped back. ‘I’m definitely not going. Behind on everything.’
Jo raised her hand. ‘I’m definitely going,’