“Of course, the proctor should have been keeping a better eye on things,” Mrs. Hargreaves said, glaring at the proctor, who at least had the grace to look ashamed, hanging her head and avoiding eye contact with anyone. “But it’s ultimately your responsibility to produce something that follows the rules.”
“Please.” I started to cry, thick tears that clouded my vision. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For goodness’ sake, young lady.” Mrs. Hargreaves opened the art room door and stepped in. “Come and see for yourself and tell us why you think that’s acceptable.”
We all went in. My canvas had been turned around to face the front of the room. Everyone stood in a line behind me as I surveyed it, taking in the damage that had been done.
It was my painting.
Underneath the massacre on top.
Popped balloons hung, drooped and colourful, covered in needles and sticky with Capri-Sun, on each corner of the canvas. Their splashes had dried and looked like burst stained flowers that dripped down the sides.
Pieces of mirror were stuck onto the canvas in different areas, which caught the light and flickered like savage glitter. I could see myself within them, pale and horrified. Some were pierced into the canvas too and stuck out dangerously, their sharp edges jagged and threatening, just like the one I used to tear into my skin.
Worst of all were the bits of chicken skin that hung from the needles like a miniature butcher’s shop and the smears of dog shit in brown swathes that looked like a deliberate creation of shadows in the painting. It was horrible. The way it had been smeared made me think of the red lipstick that I had smeared around my mouth, and it brought everything back.
It was all here. The Capri-Sun from my first day. Ruined birthday balloons to show all the birthdays I spent alone. And the pieces of mirror . . . they can’t have known, but those most of all reminded me how ruined I had become. Not only because I could see my foul reflection, but because I had used a piece to destroy my body, and here they were on display as if I was proud of that fact.
I felt sick. This was brutal. It was beyond anything that had ever been done to me before. This was my art. It was meant to be safe. And now it had been twisted and taken out of my control, just like everything else.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, taking a step back. “I didn’t do this.”
“There’s no use pretending, Poppy,” Miss Wersham said sadly. “This wouldn’t be your first time stepping out of the box. We have had many conversations before about this.”
My face must have gone very pale, and my legs wobbly, because she hurried forward to steady me. Mrs. Hargreaves brought me a chair.
“Don’t start pulling amateur dramatics with me,” Mrs. Hargreaves snapped. “Don’t do something if you can’t face up to the consequences.”
The exam moderator cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, being disqualified from the final piece project means you have failed your A Level.”
“Wait.” My head snapped up to look at him, and my mouth fell open. “What do you mean? I can’t have.”
“What did you expect would happen?” Mrs. Hargreaves said. “Of course you’ve failed.”
“But I can’t have.” Nausea began to bubble in my throat. “If I’ve failed, that means I won’t go to Slade.”
“You should have thought about that before you did all this.” Mrs. Hargreaves shrugged, as if that was that. “For such insolent behaviour, you’re going to be suspended from school for a week. I’ll be phoning your parents now to let them know. You’re only to come in if you have an exam.”
I was barely listening to her at this point. My entire world was shattering. Ending. I had failed my Art A Level. That meant no Slade. That meant no getting out of here and achieving all my dreams.
I didn’t do this. But I knew, in that moment, who had.
Annabel, Chloe, Esther, and Tanya.
I should have known the four of them would never be my friends.
But no one would ever believe me.
They were all starting to walk back out again, as if that settled it. I stood up shakily.
“I didn’t do this!” I shouted. “It wasn’t me!”
“These rooms were locked,” Miss Wersham said. “No one else could have come in. Everyone, including you, returned their card key they got at the beginning of the exam at lunchtime. When the exam ended.”
It didn’t make any sense. But I knew those four had got in somehow. I knew it deep in my bones.
“You told everyone you were doing something unexpected,” Miss Wersham continued. “And we’ve spoken to Ebbie, who was seated near you. She could smell something foul, but assumed it was the toilets.”
“It was the toilets!” I protested. “Please, you have to listen to me. I don’t know how this happened and I can’t prove otherwise, but it wasn’t me. I promise.”
“Unfortunately, that doesn’t change anything. You need to leave now. We’ll be informing your parents, as Mrs. Hargreaves has said. I’m so disappointed in you, Poppy.”
“Miss Wersham—”
But she simply shook her head. I was practically bundled out of the room, and the four adults walked with me without further comment, making sure I left the school building.
I was still crying, in complete shock at what had just happened. When I left the school gates and rounded the corner, everything was confirmed when I saw the four of them waiting for me, pure delight in their faces.
“Oh dear, Poppy, why are you so upset?” Esther asked. There was no sympathy in her voice.
“You know you’re bright red and your mascara has run down your cheeks, right?” Chloe added. “I couldn’t even tell you were wearing makeup until I saw those big black splodges around your eyes like a panda. Talk about a cheap wand.”
“I thought we were becoming friends,” I whispered. “I thought you were starting to like me.”
“Friends?” Annabel repeated, as if the word disgusted her. “Why the hell would you think that?”
“Because . . . the prom . . .” Suddenly I was doubting my own memory. They had been nice, hadn’t they? They’d invited me to their afterparty. I had danced with people. Drank. Had fun.
“You mean when we invited you to Esther’s house and you tried to get with our boyfriends?” Chloe said. “Yeah, you were getting real friendly, but not with us.”
My heart, already thudding from the shock of being disqualified, began to pound even harder. Part of me was scared I’d collapse there and then. “I didn’t! Aidan and Elliott were—they were being nice. I didn’t think they were interested in me.”
Annabel scowled. “Well, of course they weren’t really interested in you. It was a joke. Chloe and I told them to, obviously. And you fell for it. You really would have betrayed us with them. Some friend you’d be!”
They were twisting everything. She had to be lying. But in my panicked state, I didn’t know what to say, or how to make it better. They’d already done their worst.
“Why did you get taken out of the Maths mock?” Tanya asked. “Everyone was talking about it afterwards.”
Her question was innocent enough, but the gleam in everyone else’s eyes confirmed what I already knew to be true.
“It was you four, wasn’t it?” I mumbled. “You messed up my art exam.”
“Us!” Annabel said, clutching her heart and swaying backwards dramatically. “Maybe if your art exam was messed up it’s only what you deserved.”
“I heard it was shit anyway,” Chloe said, giggling. “Shit being your theme, apparently.”
They knew. They knew it was smeared with dog poo.
“You can’t prove it,” Tanya said.
“I’ve been disqualified,” I said. “I’ve failed my A Level. I’m not going to get to go to university now.”
“Oh boo-hoo.” Annabel rolled her eyes. “Did you think that was going to be a fresh start for you, is that it? A place where no one would know about poor little Poppy Greedy?”
My voice was choked with sobs. “Yes.”
Annabel grinned. “Well, I have good news for you. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. You’d have got there and they’d have treated you the same as we did. Because you radiate desperation, Poppy. You’re pathetic.”
Something in me finally snapped. I raised my head, which had been staring at the ground, too scared to look, and I screamed at them all.
“I don’t deserve to be treated this way! I haven’t done anything! All I’ve ever wanted is to do my art and have some friends. Is that so bad? Is that so terrible?”
I darted forward, trying to slap Annabel, but tripped, crashing to the ground and into the hard gravel on my knees. The surge of pain only matched the turmoil on the inside.
“She tried to hit you!” Chloe screeched. “Oh my God! She’s a lunatic!”
“You should get her back for that,” Tanya said.
Annabel stood over me, then bent down and grabbed my chin none too gently. “Don’t ever touch me again, you freak. Enjoy spending another year in this dump.” She turned back to the others. “Let’s go.”