Night School

‘This is none of your business, Carter. Your jealousy is pathetic.’


‘Tell it to Isabelle. And while you’re at it, tell her what you were about to do to Allie. And then you can have a long talk about The Rules.’

Dizzy and bewildered, Allie struggled to free herself as she looked from one boy to the other. She licked her lips and tried to speak clearly. ‘Carter, what is going on? I don’t understand …’

He kept his attention on Sylvain. ‘No. But Sylvain does, don’t you Sylvain?’

Their eyes met in an icy clash and for a second Allie thought Sylvain would not back down, and she wondered what Carter would do. But then without warning Sylvain let go and stepped away from her.

‘Fine Carter. Be the hero. Save the girl. But we both know you’re pathetic. And it’s me she wants.’

Tensing his shoulders and curling his hands into fists, Carter took a furious step forward but before he could pounce, screams split the night air. Carter and Sylvain froze.

Carter turned to Allie, the rage gone from his expression. Now he looked alert – on guard.

‘Allie, stay here. Don’t move.’

Sylvain didn’t look around at her as the two of them ran back around the building.

Trembling, Allie stood right where they’d left her. When she reached to touch the back of her head she could feel a lump under her fingertips.

How did I get so drunk? And what the hell just happened?

She wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. She was sore all over – she knew she’d have bruises on her arms in the morning and her head really hurt. Sylvain had been out of his mind but she hadn’t fought properly. She hadn’t stood up for herself.

Too drunk, she thought disgustedly. Or … her expression changed, did he put something in my drink?

She wasn’t an inexperienced drinker and she’d never got drunk on one can of cider either. And she’d only had three glasses of champagne. As the idea took shape, a horrified look crossed her face.

Would Sylvain do something like that?

Before she could complete the thought, piercing screams. The sound was close – just around the corner. She jumped back into the shadows, pressing her back against the wall.

She heard crashing; sounds of fighting. Then, silence.

She held her breath.

After a moment, in the darkness, footsteps. Running towards her. Fast.

‘Carter?’ she said, her voice tentative.

The footsteps stopped.

With a gasp, Allie realised her mistake. The rush of adrenalin cleared the haze of alcohol, and she pressed back against the wall, the rough brick cold against her skin. She made herself as small as possible. Although she could see nothing, someone was there – she could sense them watching her. Frozen, not breathing, she counted her heartbeats.

… ten, eleven, twelve …

Footsteps moved towards her again. Slower this time.

Flinging herself from the wall, Allie raced around the corner towards the school entrance. The footsteps followed – fast.

She sped up to evade them, then tripped over something soft on the ground. Screaming, she lost her balance and pinwheeled to the ground.

On the cool, damp grass, she curled up into a ball and covered her head waiting for the attack. But none came. Instead she heard footsteps running away, gradually fading into the night.

Allie stayed still for a moment until she was sure she was alone. Then she sat up cautiously and peered around her.

Her hands were covered in something wet and sticky. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she’d tripped over a girl in a pale dress, lying prone on the ground. She touched the girl cautiously but she didn’t move. With her hands on the girl’s shoulders, she rolled her over onto her back.

‘Hey, are you OK?’

Then she saw. She sucked in her breath.

The world seemed to go silent.

She scrambled back away from the girl, staring at the shape in the dark.

Numb, she stumbled to her feet and walked with slow steps to the back door. Inside the lights had gone out and the hallway was dark and chaotic. It smelled of smoke. People were shouting and running past her. Allie felt disembodied – distanced from everything around her. She looked straight ahead, her bloodied hands out to either side.

Over and over in her head she thought the same words: None of this is real. It cannot be real. None of this is real. It cannot be real …

As she made her way back towards the ballroom the smoke grew thicker, bringing tears to her eyes. The grand room – so beautiful earlier that night with its sparkling candles and white flowers – was on fire. The only light came from the handful of torches held by teachers, and from the fires themselves. In that half-light, boys in tuxedos beat flames with wet tablecloths while girls in gowns carried water using anything they could find: ice buckets, punch bowls, flower vases. The floor was littered with abandoned high-heeled shoes and broken champagne flutes.