Page 9

NINE

DANNI

In an all-girls school, there’s no day more awesome than the day your brother school comes to visit. At least, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.

The Ashford boys arrive by the busload not long after lunch and head straight to the field. There’s an inter-school rugby match on today against some school called St. Benedict’s, and even though it’s optional to attend, we’ve all had our timetables cleared for the afternoon. “Optional” is a figure of speech, apparently, because when I ask Molly as we walk over if I can ditch early to get some piano practice in this afternoon she chokes on the air she sucks in.

“You can’t miss the game,” she says. We’re bracing ourselves against an icy wind—it’s been raining all morning. For a while, everyone was freaking out that the game might get canceled due to a thunderstorm, but luckily it let up around third period.

On my other side, Eleanor nods vigorously as she pulls her dark curls into a ponytail. “There are guys. Playing in the mud. In little shorts.”

“Well, sure,” Molly says. “But it’s also a social thing. Everyone goes. You don’t want to be the girl who doesn’t go to games.”

“You could meet the love of your life,” Eleanor says. “I first saw Santi at a rugby game.”

“Oh, is Santi the love of your life now?” Rose asks.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I think he might be.”

“Have you mentioned that to him yet?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Have you talked to him at all yet?” Molly chimes in.

Eleanor crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. “I’m getting there. I’ve been waiting for a sign from the universe.”

Rose snorts. “Ah. Great plan. Flawless.”

Eleanor gives her the side-eye and doesn’t answer.

When we reach the assembly hall, Rose and Eleanor break away from us to head over near the podium, where the other prefects are already standing. Molly steers me through the seats until we find Florence and Harriet, and we fill the empty spots they’ve saved for us.

People are staring at me, and my stomach drops when I realize what they’re looking at. I’m literally the only person I can see without the optional sweater, and you’d think I spat on the school flag or something. One girl whispers to her friend, who whirls around to look me up and down. Another girl wrinkles her nose and shakes her head a little. Another bunch burst out laughing and take turns telling each other off for looking at me so obviously. I shove my fists into my pockets and pretend I can’t see them, even though I know my fiery cheeks must be giving me away.

On the stage, the prefects gather into a line and a hush falls over the crowd.

The head girl, a senior named Clara, takes a step forward from the line, brandishing a wooden board above her head. On it is a coat of arms. Each half displays a design of an animal in black and gold: a stag on one side, a wolf on the other. In the background a black rose snakes up around the emblem, wrapping both the animals in a chokehold. Clara stalks the front of the group to make sure everyone gets a good look at it.

“It’s time to take the oath,” she announces, and the backs in the audience straighten. “Stand.”

I glance at Molly, lost. “Just copy us,” she whispers. “It’s simple enough.”

Clara holds up a hand like she’s conducting an orchestra. In unison, the girls around me chorus, “I vow.”

Raising the emblem higher, Clara roars, “To never break any school rules where I can get caught .”

Behind her the other prefects move in a rehearsed line. A redheaded girl steps forward to take the coat of arms from Clara. She holds up a hand of her own, and there’s another resounding, “I vow.”

“To study hard, but only when cheating isn’t easy,” the girl says with a solemn expression.

A new girl takes her place, this one with shoulder-length braids.

“I vow,” I murmur with the crowd as she takes the coat of arms. I’m catching on now.

“Not to pass first base until I have successfully snuck my partner past the residential assistant.”

I vow.

“That if I overhear a Bram Girl telling a falsehood to an outsider, I will, without prompting, corroborate her story.”

I vow.

It’s Rose’s turn now. She’s got a cocky grin as she takes the coat of arms, and there’s that striking posture again. She holds herself like someone who’s stood before larger crowds than I’ve ever seen since she learned to walk—like someone who believes, down to her core, in her right to be front and center.

I would kill to be like that.

“I vow,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes from Rose.

“To represent and uphold the values of the Bram Girls in everything I do,” Rose says. Now Eleanor comes up behind her. Instead of taking the coat of arms away, Eleanor grabs on to one half of it to share it with Rose.

“Hence,” Eleanor says, holding out a hand.

“ If I meet a Benedictian, ” the crowd around me almost growls.

“I will be sure to treat them with the respect they deserve,” Eleanor yells, pumping her fist.

“I will slaughter them in every sporting endeavor I so choose to undertake,” Rose adds, stamping her foot.

“I will outperform them, outmuscle them—”

“And outsmart them in every instance.” Rose again.

Now the two of them shout together, raising the coat of arms between them. “And I will show them their place.”

“AND MINE,” the crowd around me roars before bursting into whooping and cheering. Feeling lost, I join in by making vague noises.

On the platform the prefects break up, most heading toward the exit. Rose and Eleanor pull away from the group and find Molly and me in the crowd, while Florence and Harriet go on ahead.

The crowd swarms around us as we reach the grounds, and we’re bumped back and forth like bowling pins as everybody tries to race to the bleachers to get the best seats. I have to crane my neck to take in whole spectator stands. I guess they need to accommodate four schools, but even still. It’s easy to spot the Bramppath and Ashford students; every last one of them is wearing the damn school sweater, a sea of green and gold drowning the right side of the stands. On the opposite side of the field are the Benedict students, along with their sister school, all wearing maroon and purple stripes.

As we climb the bleachers, Molly rushes a few steps ahead so she can film us live. She gives me a perky wave, and I send one back self-consciously. “First match of the year,” I can hear her saying into the phone. “Bram Girls have it in the bag, I can feel it.”

“She says that every game,” Rose mutters to Eleanor.

“Yeah, but she’s usually right, to be fair,” Eleanor says, turning back to look down at Rose over her shoulder.

There’s no one on the step directly above me. Which means that when the student two steps ahead slips on the wet stairs and arcs backward, there’s no one between us to break his fall.

Several things happen at once. To a chorus of shrieks, he slams into me at full force, his arms flailing, as a friend of his grabs desperately at him. And even though his friend manages to latch on to him, it’s too late for me. I’m already falling, with only air to grab onto.

For a split second, it’s like time stops, and I imagine myself slamming into the students behind me—or, worse, the metal steps below them—when someone catches my arm and yanks me sideways. The force of the fall swings me around, and I brace to hit the steps hard as the world spins out of control, but then it all stops. Whoever grabbed me has me under both arms, and they hold me steady until I get both feet on the ground again.

“Are you okay?” Rose’s voice asks in my ear, and it’s only then I figure out she’s the one who has her arms around me. I feel like all the breath’s gone from my lungs, so I don’t have it in me to reply. I nod, though, and once I do, Rose turns to the student that fell. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to run in the rain?” she snaps. “Are you trying to kill someone?”

The guy, who’s leaning against the barrier and rubbing his leg, starts apologizing to me on repeat. Even though he’s talking to me, he keeps turning back to Rose like he thinks she’s gonna send him to jail or something.

Eleanor hovers above us. “Ahh, it was just an accident, Rose,” she says, holding out a hand to help her back up. “No harm done.”

I take in a shaky breath. I don’t bother pointing out that I’m pretty sure a lot of harm would’ve been done if Rose hadn’t caught me. “Thank you,” I say to Rose as I get up, and she gives me a short nod. I guess I inconvenienced her by making her save my ass.

Molly hurries back down the steps to us, fighting the mob of students weaving around the accident scene to get to their seats. “Shit, that was close,” Molly says, which I think is her way of checking I’m okay. I start climbing the stairs again, but this time, I hold nice and tight onto the handrail.

Molly waves her phone in the air and looks back at Rose. “You’ll be happy to know I got that whole save on camera. Live,” she says in a pointed tone. “That made you look like a hero. Your parents should be thrilled.”

“Well, good. I wouldn’t have bothered, otherwise,” Rose says dryly.

Smack in the middle of the bleachers, two rows have a decent chunk of empty space left free. At first, I think maybe there’s something wrong with that spot, but then when we start climbing over already-seated students to make our way over to the empty area, I realize it’s been saved for us. Florence and Harriet are sitting there already, along with a whole bunch of Ashford guys.

“Which one’s Santi?” I ask Eleanor, while we’re still far away enough for it to be a private conversation.

“Oh, he’s down there,” she says, pointing toward the base of the bleachers.

“Are you going to go talk to him?”

“No. I’m going to look at his hair.” She beams. “A whole afternoon of looking at his hair. Pinch me.”

I don’t.

Between Alfie—another person I met for half a second at Molly’s party—and Harriet is a free spot. Harriet notices me and straightens, waving her arm around to flag me down. I really did figure she was only being nice to me because she’s my RA, but maybe she counts as a friend after all. She points at the empty space, but at the exact same time Alfie waves at Rose and points to the same spot. I’m about to tell Rose she can have it—I figure I owe her—when Alfie shuffles over and suddenly there’s just enough room for us to sit side by side. The bench is speckled with rainwater, and Harriet uses her bare hand to flick some of it off for me.

“Did someone fall before?” Harriet asks me as I sit. “That’s what it sounded like.”

“Rupert Mathers,” Rose answers for me, scowling. “Practically bowled us over on his way down, too.”

Rose turns to Alfie now, and the two of them talk so quietly I can’t eavesdrop at first. Then, Alfie says—loud enough for me to make out—“Sorry, I’m in a bad mood, I think. It’s just weird to be here without him, you know?”

Him. Oscar? I guess he would’ve been with the Ashford guys today, if he was still alive. Probably in this exact group.

Rose purses her lips so tightly they almost vanish. Then she sucks in a breath, and I concentrate, hoping to catch what she has to say about Oscar.

“I can’t imagine signing up for the rugby team, knowing practice starts during the school holidays,” she says. “I don’t know why they can’t just start the season a bit later.”

It’s such a bizarre response to somebody obviously looking for connection that I almost wonder if I heard her wrong, or if it’s code for something. But no, I don’t think it is, because Alfie is giving her a disappointed look. “Yeah, it seems like a lot to ask of the team,” he says finally, and that’s the end of that topic, I guess.

I wonder if this is what Molly was referring to, when she said Rose doesn’t care about anybody? Speaking of Molly, if Alfie is missing Oscar, she must be, too. Is there anything I can do to look out for her? I check on her, but she’s totally wrapped up in speaking to the camera. Maybe it’s a distraction she needs right now.

When the game kicks off, I focus on it for the first ten minutes or so. At least, until I realize I have no freaking idea what is happening. There don’t seem to be any rules, except for everyone to attack the guy with the ball before he can take more than two steps.

“Do you understand the game?” Harriet asks, like she’s read my mind. I jump, and shake my head. “Okay, well, it’s simple. There are four different ways you can score points, and they’re worth different amounts. First, you’ve got what’s called a try.…”

It turns out the only thing less fun than watching a game I don’t understand is watching a game I don’t understand while someone rattles off the entire rule book to me. I don’t have the heart to beg Harriet to give it a rest, though—especially not after she’s gone out of her way to be nice to me—so I let her drone on, nodding every now and then while I silently will time to speed up.

I’m snapped out of hypnosis when—I think—the first point is scored, though I’m not sure which of the four types it is. All I know is the crowd’s exploded into cheering and stamping, so enthusiastically the seats are vibrating.

“Hell yeah, Oliver,” Molly, who’s restarted her livestream, cries behind me while she waves her phone around. “You always come through for us!”

Everyone’s gotten to their feet and broken into song—a kind of cheerleading chant about the other team “trying to try” I’ve never heard before. I scramble up to join them, but I’m just as out of place standing as I was sitting.

To my left, Harriet bellows the chant loud and clear while looking at me—I guess this is her way of teaching me the lyrics. To my right, Rose is silent. When she catches me looking at her, she lifts the small green-and-gold flag Alfie passed her when we sat down and gives it a half-hearted wave, doing her best to look as unenthusiastic as humanly possible. I can’t help giggling, and she breaks at that, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

It’s the first time I can think of that she’s looked at me like we’re on the same level. She’s not teasing me, or patronizing me, or challenging me. It does something to her face: changes her type of pretty from intimidating to approachable in an instant. I’d actually go as far as to call this particular smile kind of adorable. Enough that it makes my stomach flip in a way that catches me off guard.

“Are you not entertained?” she asks me as we sit back down.

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” I whisper back.

“Well, don’t fall. Again.”

Okay, so we’re back to teasing. But still. I got a human moment out of Rose. It’s a win and I’m gonna take it as one.

After half an hour, I’m actually kind of wishing we were in class. Harriet’s given up on explaining the game to me, and it’s too noisy to hold a regular conversation. Molly’s still commentating to her phone, and Alfie’s fixated on the game, and Eleanor is talking to some guy who doesn’t seem to be her crush. As for Rose, she looks downright crabby. She’s practically glowering down at the field, her jaw clenched and her fist tight around the flag she’s holding. What’s got her in such a shitty mood? Is she as bored as I am, or is it deeper than that?

I don’t mean to stare, but I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing, which makes it a little humiliating when Rose’s head snaps up out of nowhere and she finds me zeroed in on her. It’s too late for me to pretend to look somewhere else, so she locks eyes with me.

“Danni,” she whispers in a weird voice, quietly enough only I can hear her. God, she’s going to call me out for staring at her, isn’t she? Can I come up with a good excuse in time? What if I say there was a bug in her hair, or that I was just about to ask her a question, or—

“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” she asks.

Oh.

That is one of the last things in the world I expected her to say. Consider me rattled again. But even if I am taken aback, I’m also super bored, and super curious about what the heck she wants from me. So, shoving my nervousness as far down as I can, I nod.

And Rose smiles.