Page 26 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

Ember

Maxton Hall is just insane.

Obviously when Ruby applied for the scholarship here, I looked at photos of the school on the internet, but seeing the buildings for myself, with their towers, imposing facades, and arched windows, is something else.

I’m halfway across the parking lot before Ruby’s even got out of the car.

It’s hard to keep the hem of my long dress out of the mud.

It rained last night and there are puddles everywhere.

We took the pictures for my blog post last night, but I still don’t want to arrive at my first Maxton Hall party in a mucky dress.

“Hang on, Ember,” I hear Ruby shout as I approach the huge, intricate wrought iron gates, topped with the school’s initials, that lead into the front courtyard.

It’s a breathtaking sight.

I pull out my phone, switch it to the front camera, and hold it up. I try to get as much of myself, the gate, and the school in the background into the photo as possible, but it’s not as good as I was hoping.

“Can you take another picture of me?” I ask Ruby as she catches up with me. Without waiting for an answer, I slip off my jacket and hold it out to her, along with my phone. “It would be perfect if you could get the school in the background too. It looks dreamy, lit up like that.”

“One photo,” Ruby says, getting herself into position. “Then we’re going in.”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ruby counts to three and I beam into the camera.

After that, she hands me my jacket back, waits till I’ve put it on again, and then passes me the phone.

“You look so lovely,” says my sister.

“And so do you,” I reply as a matter of course. Then I lift the phone, switch back to the front camera, and pull Ruby in close to my side. “Say cheese !”

The two of us grin into the camera. Once I’ve pressed the shutter button at least ten times, Ruby pulls away from me and I hurriedly glance through the photos.

The ones of me outside the school make me smile.

Just three years ago, it was absolute hell finding clothes that even fit, let alone looked good.

Plus-size things are often weirdly cut—I might be fat, but I have a waist, and most designers seem to think that everyone who’s overweight will have the same body shape.

Which is obviously not true. And that makes me all the happier about the progress I’m making with my blog.

Because it’s given me the chance to wear a dress like this, on an evening like this, and feel more glamorous than ever in my life before.

If I had to express my feelings in letters, it might look something like: KDJGDHUSGUAOHBS!

Which makes me realize that I may have been spending a bit too much time on my laptop.

“Ember? Are you coming?”

I hurry over to Ruby as she squints at the clock on her phone.

We’ve got plenty of time, we must be ages early, but my sister is really antsy.

She’s always like this before the events she organizes for Maxton Hall.

I can’t help wondering where she gets the energy to plan these parties.

I’m busy enough keeping up with schoolwork and my blog, and I don’t have A levels this year, with the pressure of getting the grades for Oxford on top of that.

Sometimes it feels like she’s a machine—a machine with occasional deep, dark circles under her eyes.

Mum keeps asking if this isn’t all a bit too much, but Ruby insists that she’s enjoying all the work. And I believe her.

“It’ll be fine,” I say, but I don’t think my voice is as soothing as I hoped. I’m too distracted and jittery myself for that.

“Thanks.” Ruby gives me a worried sideways glance. “You’ll stick to our deal, right?”

“I’ll stay by your side and not speak to anyone unless you say they’re OK,” I parrot back to her.

Ruby nods with satisfaction.

I roll my eyes. Ruby’s in a panic that I’ll make friends with people she doesn’t approve of.

But that’s what I’m looking forward to the most. The kids at this school have politicians, actors, aristocrats, bankers, and all that as parents, and it’s the ideal opportunity to make connections.

I’m good at small talk and making friends, provided people are prepared to see me and not stick me in some stupid pigeonhole because of my weight.

As we walk into Boyd Hall, Ruby links arms with me.

“Whoa!” I breathe, looking around.

The entrance to the hall is one of the fanciest places I’ve ever been.

Hard to believe it’s just a school. At my school, events are held in the sports hall, but the floor here is marble rather than puke-green lino.

The walls must be fifteen feet high, adorned with white stucco and golden accents.

In the center, a wide staircase with curving wooden banisters leads up to a gallery.

I can’t take it all in. Everywhere I look, there are expensive suits and haute couture dresses in chiffon, silk, and tulle, and my heart is beating faster with every second. And this is just the lobby.

We hand our jackets in at the cloakroom, then I pull Ruby into the actual hall, which takes my breath away altogether.

Boyd Hall looks like something out of a fairy tale. On the way here, Ruby told me about all their work yesterday, and everything they had to build and decorate, but I never imagined that it would look this dreamy.

There are waiters holding trays with flutes of champagne or orange juice flitting between the tables, and there’s a pianist in a tailcoat at the grand piano by the stage, playing something classical that fills the entire room.

“I can’t believe you organized all this,” I whisper, digging my elbow gently into Ruby’s ribs.

She narrows her eyes and studies the round tables in the center of the hall, where some of the guests have already taken their seats, then scans the long tables to our left, where the buffet is presumably going to be served later on.

I know that look—Ruby is checking whether everything looks the way she had in mind.

“Ruby!” exclaims a voice I definitely don’t know.

I turn my head and see a pale boy with chin-length dark hair and attractive onyx eyes framed by thick lashes. He has a striking jaw and high cheekbones that don’t really fit the boyish grin and cheerful look in his eyes.

“Kieran, hi,” Ruby replies, adopting a smile that I’ve never seen on her before. It’s polite, professional, but kind of reserved. Whatever it is, it isn’t my sister’s smile.

“The caterers arrived ten minutes ago and they’re setting up next door,” Kieran says before he sees me.

“Hi. I’m Kieran. You must be Ember.” He holds out his hand and I take it on autopilot.

I glance at Ruby in confusion. I’d assumed that nobody here at this school would know about me or our family, seeing that Ruby’s always made such a massive mystery of Maxton Hall at home.

I thought she was really strict about keeping her school and home lives apart on both sides.

So it’s a bit surprising that this boy knows my name.

“Nice to meet you, Kieran,” I say.

When Kieran lets go of my hand, he smiles at Ruby and his cheeks flush unmistakably.

Aha.

Clearly Ruby has more than one admirer at this school.

I’m not surprised that she hasn’t mentioned it to me.

Ruby practically never speaks about her feelings.

I sometimes wonder how she can exist like that without exploding.

I could never bottle up my emotions—either positive or negative—the way she does.

If I don’t like a thing, I say so. Loudly.

When I’m happy, you can tell. Ruby is way more controlled than me, and much less impulsive.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice Ruby and Kieran walking over to the stage.

I hurry after them, but all they do is spend ten minutes talking about everything they have to remember this evening.

I sneak a glance around, but Ruby keeps darting looks at me like she’s afraid I’ll take the first opportunity I get to throw myself into the arms of some random Maxton boy.

I wonder how long it’ll take for her to relax a bit, or else to be too busy to watch my every step like a hawk.

When the gala finally officially begins, I’m sitting at a half-empty table right at the back, so that I can hardly see what’s happening on the stage.

These are the events team’s seats, Kieran explains a little later, and there are indeed a handful of people who turn up at irregular intervals, sit down for a bit and have a drink, and then leap up three minutes later and vanish again.

Right now, there’s a young man talking about depression and how it was only thanks to the Family Center that he got through it.

It’s a very moving speech and everyone is under his spell.

I can see a few people dabbing their eyes with fine handkerchiefs, while others nod, frowning deeply. Beside me, Kieran too seems absorbed.

“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m going to get a drink. Want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Kieran says, instantly moving to get up.

“Don’t worry.” I wave him to sit back down. “I’ll be fine. Do you want anything though?”

Kieran hesitates a moment, his eyes darting from me to the speaker and back, then he shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

I nod and walk to the bar, where one of the waiters smiles politely and asks me what I’d like to drink.

“Champagne, please,” I say, as if it’s no big deal, but either he can see that I’m only sixteen—nearly seventeen!—or they’ve been told not to serve alcohol to anyone school-age. Either way, he slowly shakes his head.

I sigh. Looks like I have no choice but to try the kiddies’ punch on the buffet table next to the bar. I pick up one of the pretty crystal glasses, hold it up to the light, and watch the kaleidoscope-like spots of light dancing around the room in soft colors.

As I start to ladle punch from the big bowl into my glass, thunderous applause rings out around the room. Seems like the speech is over.