Page 262 of The Long Way Home

It probably seeded in me then and there that I would instead, in fact, have anti-space. I cried when I told him she’d said he couldn’t come, because I was dramatic like that but also because it felt unfair to me, that they’d force my hand to make me make my own family and then pull me away from him when they wanted me back.

He was sunny as always, it rolled right off him that he wasn’t allowed to come. (Also filed under: because he doesn’t need me.) He just kissed me a lot, told me it would be a breeze and I’d have Bridget and we’d have fun while we were away and then when we got back… he didn’t say it, he just gave me a look.

Sex had been the topic for a while by then and when I went over to BJ’s that Sunday night to tell him that Marsaili said he couldn’t come, the Mandarin plan came to life as a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to her.

“What a bitch that she didn’t let me come,” BJ says sort of out of the blue and I crack up.

“I think she was just scared by how much I… you know?” ‘Love him’ is the end of that sentence. Present-tense, not past. Always present-tense loving him. Marsaili always found it concerning. With good reason in the end, I suppose.

“Yeah.” He nods, swallowing. “I don’t know if I ever told you this—” He laughs once, shaking his head. “What Mr Kincaid said to me?”

I shake my head.

I’d arrived home from the Congo in the wee hours of Friday morning, so my mother had said Bridget and I didn’t need to go to school, but I had one of the drivers bring me up anyway because I was just so excited to see BJ.

“You came to my last class, remember?” He smiles thinking about it. “You were in this sleeveless dress. Way too cold for March—”

I’d learned immediately upon dating BJ that were I to under-dress and be cold, he’d either be forced to hug me or give me his sweaters — sometimes both — and I loved both outcomes.

“Standing outside the classroom on your tiptoes to look through the window…”

“Mr Ballentine,” Mr Kincaid said with a sigh, noticing BJ staring at me through the window as I waved excitedly. “Eyes up front, please.”

Mr Kincaid was the boys’ favourite teacher at Varley and the Housemaster of Carver.

“Can I just duck out for a sec, sir?” BJ asked brightly.

“No,” Mr Kincaid said, flicking his eyes over at me.

“Sir, but Parks is outside. We haven’t seen each other in, like, ten days.”

“Mr Ballentine, you’re hardly war-torn lovers, and this is science not social studies.” He gave BJ a little look.

“Is it…” BJ lifted his eyebrows playfully “…chemistry, by chance?”

“BJ, if you don’t know the answer to that question yourself then I have failed you,” he said and the class laughed as he tried to go on with the lesson.

‘SAY YOU’RE GOING TO THE BATHROOM’ I mouthed to BJ as he began mouthing back, ‘JUST GO TO YOUR ROOM.’ More pointing. ‘I’LL SEE YOU IN YOUR ROOM.’

“Magnolia.” Mr Kincaid poked his head out of the doorway.

“Oh—” I jumped. “Hello, sir.”

He glanced down at me in my Spring 2014 RTW Chanel pastel-multi-coloured tweed dress. “And where is your uniform?”

I shook my head at him. “I’m absent today.”

“Evidently not.” Kincaid lifted a brow. “You are distracting my class by standing outside my door.” He walked back inside his room and I peered in after him. “Do come in, Magnolia, and please be quiet.”

I beamed over at him and then darted to BJ, who pushed back from his table and patted on his lap just in time for Kincaid to turn on his heel and eye me down. “And do, for the love of god, sit in your own chair.”

I gave him a curt smile and sat down next to BJ. He slipped his hand into mine immediately, kissed it three times, stole my heart forever with the quarter-smile he gave me, etcetera etcetera.

“Alright everybody — can anyone tell me what Newton’s second law is?”

My hand shot straight up. Mr Kincaid’s face faltered for a moment.

“Magnolia?”