Night School

They nodded reluctantly, and she sent them upstairs to wash off the blood and change clothes.

As they climbed the stairs, the fearful rumble of the aftermath gradually faded into the pitch black silence of the dormitory wing. Jo held Allie’s hand. Allie’s head pounded, and her stomach was churning. She thought she might throw up.

When they separated at the top, Jo said, ‘It’s safe up here, right?’

‘She wouldn’t have sent us here otherwise,’ Allie replied, but her voice was uncertain.

‘OK. Be really, really fast. I’ll meet you in the bathroom.’

Allie opened her bedroom door slowly and flashed the light around to verify its emptiness. In the dark it felt foreign – as if it had no attachment to her at all and her belongings had been placed randomly. Hurrying across the room, she rifled through the dresser, grabbing whatever clothes came to hand.

Later, in a dark, cold shower lit only by a torch propped up against Jo’s borrowed silver kitten heels, she scrubbed the blood off her body fiercely. The cold and the water cleared her head, as if she were washing the whole night away. Jo waited for her by a sink, swinging her light around the room. Occasionally they called out to each other for reassurance.

‘You still alive?’

‘Yep. You?’

‘I think so.’

When she was finished, Allie left the ruined white dress and the sparkly silver shoes in the shower changing room.

She and Jo hurried downstairs where the air of panic had transmuted into grim efficiency.

Torch beams bobbed down hallways as students carried scorched furniture out of the ballroom. Outside the back door a generator rumbled steadily, and thick black cables snaked down the corridor to the great hall where the Klieg lights they powered gave the still-smouldering space an unearthly glow.

Teachers armed with clipboards orchestrated the work. Some stood on chairs and called out instructions while others were sequestered in small, whispering groups around the walls.

Jo and Allie stood side by side, surveying the room.

‘Well, I guess we should find Eloise,’ Allie said, her voice shaky.

But instead of the librarian they found Isabelle perched perilously atop a rickety wooden chair, issuing orders calmly to the teachers and students who milled around. Her white dress was smudged with soot but otherwise perfect, although her hair had escaped from its clips and flowed in waves over her shoulders. She looked relieved to see them – especially Allie.

She crouched down to take her hands and pulled her closer. Speaking so quietly only Allie could hear she said, ‘I’m so sorry that you had to see that. Are you OK?’

As she looked into Isabelle’s concerned eyes a flood of conflicting emotions swept over Allie. She wanted to cry for Ruth and for herself. She wanted to hug the headmistress for caring. Instead, she willed her tears back and nodded to show she was fine. Giving Allie’s hands a final squeeze, Isabelle stood up again.

‘OK, you two,’ she said, businesslike again. Handing them a clipboard with a pencil connected to it with string, she continued, ‘I need to be sure that we know where everybody is. There are fifty-two students here this term altogether. Identify everybody you can find. Search the central ground floor – not the wings, not upstairs. Do not go outside under any circumstances.’

A group of teachers approached her, and she turned away to deal with them.

At first Allie and Jo were overwhelmed – it was so dark and people rushed by them in the haze. But then they came up with a system, ticking off names of everybody they’d already seen, then starting on students they didn’t recognise.

The work steadied their nerves. They wandered from room to room checking names off their list as the number of missing students dwindled. After about an hour electricity was restored, making their chore easier. The bitter burning smell lingered, but the air gradually cleared.

Throughout it all, Allie had a strange sense of distance – of watching herself on television as she moved around the school doing what had to be done. She couldn’t even feel her own exhaustion. Her body moved but she felt disconnected from its actions.

By the time the sun came up, about twenty-one students were still not ticked off their lists. These included Gabe, Carter, Sylvain, Jules and Lucas.

‘Where do you think they are?’ Allie asked.