Ignoring Allie’s protests, Rachel hustled her across the first-floor landing, out of the classroom wing and into the main building where classic statues stood in perpetual graceful postures. They slipped behind a statue of a young man with a ridiculously frilly jacket that jutted out over his behind, and sat down on a stone bench.
Tucked away in the quiet nook, they were hidden from view.
Rachel leaned back against the wall with a contented sigh. ‘This is my happy place. Now. Tell me.’
Her voice halting at first but strengthening as she went along, Allie told her about her talk with Carter, deciding she felt only friendship-love for him, and then what happened with Sylvain.
‘I blew it… I blew it… again.’ Leaning forward, she pressed her hot forehead against the cold marble curve of the statue’s heel. ‘Oh, Rachel. Why do I feel like this? Why is it all so confusing?’
Rachel’s voice was gentle. ‘Allie, Carter was your first love. The first one is always the worst.’
‘Oh, but why did he kiss me?’ Allie said, miserably. ‘It made everything so much worse.’
‘It sounds like you’re not the only one having trouble getting over it.’
Allie couldn’t argue with that.
‘What are you going to do about Sylvain?’ Rachel said. ‘What does your heart tell you to do?’
Allie sagged back on the bench. ‘My heart is telling me to find out who helped Jo’s killers and just stay away from all boys until then.’
Rachel looked thoughtful. ‘You can’t use Jo’s death as an excuse not to make decisions about your own life – you know that, right?’
Allie blinked at her. ‘I’m not… am I?’
‘Aren’t you?’ Rachel asked.
‘Allie Sheridan!’
They both heard the voice at the same time. Someone on the landing was calling her. But no one could see them in their hiding place.
‘Who is it?’ Allie hissed.
‘I don’t know. I’ll take a look.’ Rachel climbed up to look over the statue’s flying coat-tails. Standing on her toes, she craned her neck to see. Then she looked back at Allie wide-eyed. ‘Jules. Mayday. Mayday. Dive. Dive.’
‘Bollocks.’ Allie ducked down low behind the legs of the statue. ‘Why is she looking for me?’
‘Well, she’s a prefect, so she might need you for prefect… ness,’ Rachel reasoned. ‘Or maybe she wants to beat you up for kissing her boyfriend.’
Allie swung at her but couldn’t reach her.
‘Steady,’ Rachel said, and a fit of giggles threatened to overtake them both.
‘Is she close?’ Allie hissed, trying to stay calm.
Rachel pressed her fingers against her lips. Covering her mouth with both hands, Allie watched as Rachel peeked again around the statue’s flared jacket. At that precise moment, Jules appeared in front of her, trying to see past her into the nook.
‘Oh, Rachel.’ Her tone was officious. ‘Have you seen Allie?’
Allie knew how much Rachel longed to lie at this moment – she could see it in the set of her shoulders, sense it in the way she gathered herself as she prepared to speak. She also knew Rachel was a terrible liar.
‘I’m right here.’ She stood up, looking at the prefect over Rachel’s shoulder. ‘What’s up?’
For a long second, Jules held her gaze. It was a challenging look; a warning. Maybe even a threat.
But all she said was: ‘Isabelle wants you in her office.’
Allie nodded then turned to give Rachel a meaningful look. ‘Take notes or something for me. When you see the others.’
‘Will do. Good luck.’ Behind Jules’ back, Rachel saluted her sympathetically.
Staying a step or two behind, Allie followed Jules out on to the grand landing. Around them, the white statues caught the late afternoon light and glowed like angels preparing to fly.
With each step, Jules’ Uggs made an annoying scuffing sound on the polished oak floors. Allie tried to work out which she hated more – the sheepskin boots or the fact that Jules got to wear her own shoes as a perk of being prefect.
‘How’s the gardening going?’ Jules asked suddenly.
‘Um… what?’ The question caught Allie by surprise. ‘You mean detention?’
Never breaking her stride, Jules nodded.
‘Fine, I guess,’ Allie said. ‘I mean, it’s stupid and pointless; I’m learning a valuable lesson… yadda yadda yadda…’
They walked in silence for a long time after that, the only sound the shushing of Jules’ shoes. Then: ‘And Carter’s still doing it too?’
Scuff, scuff, scuff…
Her eyes lowered, Allie tried to figure out what Jules was getting at. Surely she knew her own boyfriend still had early morning detention?
‘Yes, Carter too.’
Without warning, Jules rounded on her. ‘Why?’
Her aggressive tone caught Allie off guard; she stepped back, stumbling over her own feet. ‘Why… what?’
‘Why is he still gardening with you?’
Allie hoped her expression conveyed her belief that the prefect was losing her mind.
‘Because he’s got detention, Jules. Why else would anybody be out in the freezing cold at the crack of bleeding dawn three times a week?’
At that moment, to Allie’s astonishment, all the fight left the prefect. Her eyes filling, she turned away.