Night School: Legacy

There was no answer. She trudged through snow up to her knees, searching through the darkness. Each step was such hard work but she had to find him. He was out there somewhere, all alone. And it was so cold.

A single magpie fluttered right above her head, so close she could see light glinting off its glossy black and white feathers.

‘Carter!’ she screamed again.

This time she thought she heard a faint reply, and she tried to quicken her steps but her feet refused to cooperate. It was so dark – she couldn’t see a thing.

Where had the moon gone?

Then the wind blew his words her way. ‘Allie be careful. It’s not safe.’

For some reason this terrified her.

‘It is safe.’ A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘It is.’

‘Be careful, Allie,’ he said. ‘And wake up. Wake up.’


Jerking awake with a gasp, Allie sat up so quickly she nearly knocked Rachel over.

‘What …?’ Allie squinted in the sudden brightness. The room was flooded with light. ‘What happened?’

‘You were screaming in your sleep. I could hear you from next door.’ Rachel sat down on the bed next to her and picked up her hand, rubbing it as if to warm it. ‘Bloody hell. Your hands are so cold. It must have been a nightmare.’

But the dream was already slipping away – trying to remember it was like watching a film through fog.

‘What time is it?’ Allie leaned over to try and see the clock.

‘Nearly noon, you lazy sod.’

Allie stretched. ‘We got in so late last night.’

‘I heard you didn’t have any luck …’ Rachel’s voice was hesitant.

Allie shook her head. ‘Nothing. It was a false alarm. But they didn’t decide that until, like, two in the morning. God, I’m so hungry I could eat that desk.’

‘Or you could just have lunch.’ Rachel stood up and headed for the door. ‘With me. Meet you down there?’

Jumping out of bed Allie glanced at herself in the mirror and winced. ‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Forgot about the hair.’ When they’d finally come in last night she’d just kicked off her shoes and tumbled into bed. Her makeup was smeared across her face and her bright red hair stood on end as if alarmed.

She grabbed a towel and made her way to the bathroom. The hallway was strangely quiet – some students had left last night with their parents. More would have gone this morning. Soon the building would be almost completely empty again.

After a hot shower she felt better and, returning to her room, she flung open the shutter. Cold white light poured in, brighter than normal daylight, and she peered out into a snow-covered world.

Throwing on her uniform and a warm jumper, she dried her hair and applied a sweep of mascara and lipstick.

The entire time she was thinking about kissing Sylvain. And knowing it had been a bad idea. And hoping nobody would find out about it.

And wanting to do it again.


Zoe and Jo were already at the table with Lucas and Rachel when Allie arrived. Jo’s hair was a bright pink crown above her delicate shoulders.

‘Feed me now,’ she said by way of hello.

‘Cheese.’ Reaching over, Zoe deposited a sandwich on her plate.

‘I love you Zoe Glass,’ Allie said passionately, biting into it.

‘You should have got up earlier. You missed an amazing snowball fight.’ Zoe bounced with glee. ‘I think I actually hurt people.’

‘Borders, Zoe,’ Rachel said. ‘Remember the borders of normal behaviour.’

‘They all lived,’ Zoe mumbled defensively.

‘This time,’ Lucas finished the thought for her.

The others were still laughing when Sylvain sat down in the empty chair next to Allie. She swallowed hard.

‘Hey, Sylvain, any news?’ Lucas asked, arching his eyebrows.

Sylvain shook his head. ‘Nothing – all clear.’

‘Cool.’ Lucas served himself some soup. ‘No equals good.’

Reaching for a sandwich, Sylvain asked about the snowball fight and Zoe launched back into her story. He listened with interest as if it were the most fascinating story he’d ever heard. A knot tightened in Allie’s stomach. He hadn’t looked at her once.

It hadn’t occurred to her that he might think it was a bad idea too. He might be embarrassed by what happened. He probably wished it had never happened.

What if he’s sorry? What if it was all some twisted joke?

Just as her paranoia and confusion reached a fever pitch, under the cover of the tablecloth he reached for her hand. Without ever turning his head her way, he laced his fingers through hers until their two hands were tangled up together. Out of sight.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. This was so wrong. She and Sylvain could not do this and she’d have to tell him that. But then she remembered what it had felt like kissing him. How she hadn’t felt lonely for the first time in ages.

And under the table her hand tightened on his.