After class ends, Ms Harkness calls me up to her desk.
‘Ms, I’m nearly done on my UCAS, I swear,’ I say. ‘I’m whittling down my final choices. I’m sure I’m going to stay in London—’
‘Amazing, Selena, but I need to ask you,’ she interrupts. ‘Are you the Secret Sender?’
Blood rushes to my ears. My first instinct is to deny it.
But then she says, ‘I should say, I know you’re the Secret Sender.’
‘How?’ I croak.
She pushes forwards the latest copy ofThe Common Room, and a copy of my essay from the week before.
‘Because in both of these there is a metaphor of salt in wounds. One when you’re talking about Tom’s interaction with Gatsby at the Plaza hotel, the other one obviously in the header. Then I did some digging and found it’s also the name of a Rose Conrad song. And, well . . . ’ She points at the Rose Conrad pin I have on my bag.
‘Doesn’t really prove anything though,’ I say, but my voice does not have the confidence of the words.
‘Selena, we both know Tori isn’t the Secret Sender. She’s confessed to it now, but I always knew. I know Tori’s writing. There’s no way she could ever be this concise. It’s very clearly your tone, your voice, your directness.’
I feel myself deflate. ‘Am I going to get into trouble?’
‘No, of course not,’ says Ms Harkness, looking surprised. ‘Selena, there are no rules against anonymous writing. It’s why I didn’t put a stop to it straight away. But if I were you, I would think a bit about the downsides to anonymity. Sometimes having your name attached can keep you accountable.’
‘You sound a bit like Kira.’
‘You don’t need me to tell you Kira is a smart person.’
‘Sure, doesn’t mean I want to go public,’ I say.
‘You never know, you might find you like having your name attached to your work,’ she says. ‘Which is why I also wanted to talk to you about the journalist work experience at theCroydon Post.’
‘What about it? I heard Tori talking about it.’
‘It’s taking place in the last week of term. The timing coincides nicely with the UCAS deadline. It would be great to put on your application.’
‘Now you’re really starting to sound like Kira.’
‘Selena, you’re a columnist,’ she says, pointing at the Secret Sender. ‘I might not agree on how you’re writing this, but you’re definitely capturing people’s attention.’ She pauses. ‘There’re a lot of people like Tori writing in the world, fewer people with your point of view. You should put that out there. But with your name.’
‘I’d never get it,’ I say. ‘Tori said they take three people. There’ll be people from loads of different schools applying.’
‘You won’t know if you don’t try, Selena,’ says Ms Harkness. ‘There’s nothing to lose from trying. Have you thought about what you want to do next year?’
I nod, thinking about reading the prospectuses on the train.
‘I want to study English Literature and Language at university, in London,’ I say.
‘Great,’ says Ms Harkness, looking delighted. ‘How did you decide?’
‘I went to look at Liverpool university with a friend. A bit by accident, but I saw it. And when I was looking at the courses, it clicked that I did want to go, I just don’t want to go too far from home.’
‘That’s totally fair,’ she says gently. ‘And even though you’re not applying for Liverpool, it sounds like that experience was really useful.’
She pushes the papers towards me.
‘Think about applying, okay? Applications close on Sunday.’
‘Sunday is three days away!’
