Night School: Legacy

‘War?’ Allie suggested, sitting on the other end of the long, leather couch.

‘We have war,’ Zoe pointed out. ‘But we’re not miserable.’ ‘True.’ Allie thought about it. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it was … diet.’

That seemed to mollify Zoe. ‘Vitamins.’ She nodded knowingly.

‘What are you two talking about?’ Rachel carried a stack of books so tall it reached her nose. It wobbled as she set it down gingerly on a table nearby.

‘Vitamins,’ Zoe explained.

‘Of course.’

Rachel shuffled the books in a complex system, like a thick deck of cards. Allie and Zoe exchanged puzzled looks. ‘Tea?’ Allie suggested hopefully. ‘Possibly with food?’

Rachel looked up, a dusty, leather-bound book dangling from one hand. ‘Absolutely.’

It was still several hours until dinner, and the kitchens were empty. Loaves of bread dough had been left to rise on one counter, covered in white cloths like tiny corpses. The room smelled sweetly of warm yeast.

There were two large refrigerators – one the students were allowed to open for milk and snacks. The other they weren’t meant to touch.

‘Let’s see …’ Opening the students’ fridge, Rachel peered inside. ‘Ooh, leftover sandwiches. Score!’ She pulled out a tray covered in plastic wrap with sandwich quarters neatly arranged. They were pouring tea when Jo walked in.

‘Great minds …’ she said, grabbing a mug.

‘So, about this stupid party …’ Allie sighed.

‘Don’t look at me.’ Looking almost panicked, Rachel stepped back. ‘I’m definitely not going. Behind on everything.’

Jo raised her hand. ‘I’m definitely going,’

‘I want to go.’ Zoe spoke through a mouth full of cheese, and Allie looked at her dubiously.

‘Are you allowed? It’s senior students only.’

Zoe glared at her. ‘I may be small, but I’m as senior as you are.’

‘It’s true,’ Jo interceded. ‘Zoe can definitely come.’ She turned to Allie. ‘Look, why don’t we all go together?’

‘I don’t want to go at all.’ Allie sank back against the counter glumly. ‘Isabelle’s making me.’

‘It won’t be so bad,’ Jo said. ‘We can be each other’s dates.’ ‘No kissing,’ Allie said.

‘Holding hands?’ Jo’s voice was hopeful.

‘Deal.’


‘Am I wearing enough layers?’

Standing in the hallway by the back door, Jo was swathed in a pale pink pashmina, heavy white boots, a quilted jacket and thermal leggings, It was nearly nine o’clock and they were heading out to the party but she seemed more prepared for a Swiss ski slope than a hill in England.

‘I think you might survive,’ Allie said dryly, buttoning her pea coat. She wore her uniform skirt with two layers of tights and her red Doc Marten boots, which reached all the way to her knees.

Eyeing Allie’s boots, Jo said, ‘Are those insulated? Your feet will get cold.’

‘I don’t care.’ Allie knotted her scarf. ‘I’m donating my toes to science.’

‘Hey, wait up!’

Allie glanced back to see Zoe hurrying down the hall, pulling on her coat. A bright blue bobble hat perched on her head.

‘Come on,’ Allie said. ‘We’re holding hands on the way up and later we’re going to make out.’

‘You said no kissing,’ Jo reminded her as she opened the door.

‘I meant no tongues.’

Outside the night was dark and clear; a nearly full moon illuminated the path ahead of them so thoroughly that until they passed into the woods at the base of the hill they didn’t need a torch.

Walking single file, they followed a nearly overgrown footpath that wound steeply upwards from behind the walled garden.

Allie could see her breath hanging in the air in the moonlight. She didn’t want to go to this party but she had to admit it was nice to be out doing something that wasn’t work or Night School.

‘I’ve never been up there,’ she said, pointing up ahead of them. ‘Is it cool?’

‘It’s supposed to be haunted,’ Zoe said.

‘Everything’s supposed to be haunted,’ Jo scoffed.

‘Yeah, but this is really supposed to be haunted.’ Zoe seemed to find the idea of ghosts both amusing and absurd. ‘Apparently some lord lived there who was Catholic. He was tortured brutally by Henry VIII and executed.’