Night School: Legacy

‘Put your hands here.’ Zoe pulled Allie’s hands into place on her own arm as Mr Patel walked away. ‘Then you just do this …’

But Allie was not a natural. This became apparent almost immediately. Although she tried very hard to flip the smaller girl over, all she managed was to drag her around a bit. Once or twice Zoe fell to the ground helpfully to illustrate how the move should work but, despite the fact that she was small and slim, Allie couldn’t seem to flip her.

Looking around, she saw other students performing the move to perfection. In a corner, Jules flipped Carter without obvious effort. He laughed as she helped him up and she patted his shoulder warmly. The longer she was unable to perform what she knew must be a simple move, the more anxious Allie became. Her chest tightened and she tried to keep her face expressionless. But by the end she was panicked; breathing in small, desperate gasps.

‘OK, everyone.’ Mr Patel’s voice stopped the torture at last. ‘That’s enough.’ He moved to the centre of the room. ‘That’s pretty easy for most of you, I know. But tomorrow it starts to get harder. If you had any trouble with today’s exercise, I suggest you start practising. This is just the beginning.’

Allie kept her eyes on the floor. She was the only one who hadn’t been able to do it. That message was for her.

As the others began leaving the room she lagged behind, bruised and defeated, hoping to slip out unnoticed. She didn’t hear Mr Patel walk up to her.

‘If you want some extra help, come in early tomorrow,’ he said quietly. ‘I think Zoe will be a good partner for you. But sometimes it takes a little time for a partnership to gel. You’ll both learn together.’

Biting her lip, Allie nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

I will not let them see me cry, she told herself. But she could feel tears burning her eyes. Across the room she saw Carter looking at her with concern – but that only made it worse.

So she walked away before he could see her face and know how miserable she was. Blindly, she stumbled down the hall and up the stairs to the ground floor. She wasn’t sure where she was going or if anybody was following her. She really didn’t want to talk to Carter right now. Or Mr Patel.

Or anyone.

It was just all so embarrassing.

She shoved open the back door and darted down the footpath.

One hundred and twelve steps. One hundred and thirteen. One hundred and fourteen …

After a minute, though, her exhausted muscles protested so loudly she slowed her pace. The night was cool – the rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing away. A glowing crescent moon dusted the landscape in silver.

Through the trees she caught a flash of something white. At first her breath stopped. Then she remembered.

The folly.

She’d forgotten all about the little gazebo where she’d hidden with Jules the night of the fire, but now she made her way over to its hiding place behind a line of trees.

The dome-roofed white structure was encircled by narrow columns. The moonlight illuminated the statue at its centre – a girl in a silky gown dancing eternally, arms above her head, a stone veil slipping through her fingers.

On the cold marble step next to the statue’s bare feet, Allie rested her head on her knees. But now that she wanted to cry, tears wouldn’t come. She felt empty.

Maybe I’m not cut out for it after all, she thought wretchedly. Maybe I’m not good enough for Night School.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to fail at Night School completely. What would Jules think? Or Lucas? Would they want to be her friend if they knew what a loser she was?

Jo was kicked out, she reasoned. And it hasn’t totally ruined her life.

But Jo was different. She travelled in the same social circles as Lucas and Katie and Jules. Her family was important. They’d all like her no matter what. Allie was an outsider. Her parents were nobody. She would never run into the others on skiing trips in Switzerland or shopping on Bond Street or Fifth Avenue.

Because she’d never be in those places.

Except I’m Lucinda’s granddaughter. The very thought was heady. So maybe I should be.

‘Allie.’

At the sound of the distinctive French voice, Allie looked up. Sylvain stood at the foot of the steps, his expression unreadable in the dark.

‘Hey.’ Allie put her head back down again. ‘What’s up? Seen any really rubbish new Night Schoolers lately?’

He sat down on the step beside her. ‘I wanted to make sure you were OK.’

‘Yeah well.’ Allie sat up. ‘I’m a total loser. But otherwise I’m fine. So … move along. There’s nothing to see here.’

‘I saw what happened.’ His vivid blue eyes met hers; colour crept across her cheeks as she turned away.

Shrugging to show how much she didn’t care, she said, ‘I hope it was entertaining.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I know what went wrong. I can help.’