When he saw the way she held her arm, his brow furrowed. ‘Merde. I did hurt you.’
He reached for her shoulder as if he could fix her then thought better of it and dropped his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Allie. I was in a hurry – I didn’t see you.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ she mumbled. Looking up, she met his vivid gaze. ‘I don’t think you broke me.’
‘I can’t believe I was so clumsy. I’m just late for…’ He gestured down the hall to where the door leading down to the basement yawned open.
‘I’m going there too,’ Allie said.
His eyes widened. ‘You’re back in it again? When did this happen?’
She shrugged, as if Night School was no big deal. ‘It’s part of my punishment.’
His eyes swept across her face – although he didn’t mention it, she got the feeling he was surprised she was talking to him. She’d been diligently avoiding him since the night of the winter ball.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to him. She just hadn’t known what to say. Their kiss that night had been so epic – so intense. Just thinking about it made her heart flutter.
But then Jo died. And the world changed overnight.
That night she learned Nathaniel would kill the people she cared about. That night she’d decided to try not to care about anyone ever again.
‘It must be hard for you after everything that happened,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But I have to do it. For her.’
He nodded as if he’d expected nothing else. ‘I would do the same.’
Her eyes darted up to his. ‘You would?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s the only way. You have to get strong and you have to fight. And win.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, meaning it. ‘That helps.’
When he smiled it softened his sharp features, making him look boyish – less sophisticated. Sometimes he seemed so grown-up it was easy to forget he was only sixteen.
Then he glanced at his watch and the smile faded.
‘We will both be late, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘I have to run upstairs first.’
‘Of course,’ Allie said, taking a step away.
‘Allie…’
She looked up at him enquiringly but he seemed to change his mind.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘See you down there.’
He sped away with the smooth gait of a panther.
Alone, Allie made her way downstairs. The once-familiar basement steps had never looked grimier or less inviting. And the walk down that dingy, narrow corridor had never seemed lonelier. She was relieved when she reached the girls’ dressing room.
The big square space was mostly empty – only a handful of girls were getting ready, most already in their black Night School training gear.
In one corner, she saw Nicole, still in her school uniform. As she flipped her long dark hair up into a ponytail, their eyes met. Nicole didn’t seem surprised to see her – or if she was, she hid it well.
‘So, are you ready to return to the meat grinder?’ Her French accent made ‘meat’ sound like ‘met’.
‘Is that what we’re calling it now?’ Allie forced a smile.
‘It is an appropriate name, n’est ce pas?’
Nicole’s bitter tone perfectly reflected the way Allie felt. A bit brave. A bit angry.
The two of them had only got to know each other at the end of last term but Allie had quickly started to like her. She was far too pretty – small and slim, with huge brown eyes – but she didn’t seem to be afraid of anything.
‘Good point.’ Allie walked over to a hook with ‘Sheridan’ stencilled above it in neat square letters. Hanging from it were black leggings, two snug-fitting long-sleeved tops – one for inside, one for outside – and a zip-up jacket. Stacked on the wooden bench below were sturdy waterproof running shoes, a black knitted hat and thermal gloves.
She wondered if it had all been there the whole time she’d been out of Night School. Just waiting for her to come back.
Rather than unbuttoning her white blouse, Allie pulled it off over her head – turning it inside out in the process. As she reached for the pullover, she saw Nicole’s eyes flicker across her scars, red against the white skin of her arms and torso. It was the first time anyone other than her doctors had seen what the accident did to her and, flushing, she hurried to pull the black top over her head.
Noticing this, Nicole shook her head. ‘Don’t be ashamed of your scars.’ Startled, Allie glanced over at her. ‘Be proud of them. They are a symbol of your survival. Of your strength.’
What bollocks, Allie thought, bristling. I’m not strong. I’m a failure.
But as they finished changing in silence Nicole’s words stayed with her. After all, she was alive, wasn’t she? She’d taken on two guys twice her size, and she’d won.
The scars were proof of that.