Page 115 of The Bargain

“It’s completely up to you,” Sophie says. “My home is open to you, if you wish, or we can find you somewhere to stay. Or—” She glances over at me. “I could drop you back to Spearcrest to catch up on exams.”

I almost laugh.

“As if I’d be allowed anywhere near it.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? You were the victim of false allegations and police mishandling, and Spearcrest didn’t do anything to safeguard you. If anything, they’d be lucky if you deigned to go back, given the circumstances.” She smiles. “You don’t have to unless you want to, of course. I just thought you might still wish to secure that Harvard scholarship of yours.”

There’s a piercing sensation in my chest. I’ve not allowed myself to think of the scholarship since I got dragged out of my exam. In my mind, it’s like all those things that have always existed and never existed all at once, as grand yet intangible as the entire timeline of the world.

“I don’t think Harvard’s on the cards anymore, Mrs Sutton-Knight.”

She rolls her eyes in a gesture that is so inherently Desdemona it makes my heart ache.

“Mr Mazzati and Mr North have been hard at work making sure Harvard would never be off the cards,” she says. And, with a snarky sniff, she adds, “It’s the least they could do, really.”

My eyes burn, and for a moment, I can’t even speak. I don’t know why this hits me the hardest. I didn’t even cry when they arrested me, or when I was locked up, or when I watched my own future crumble like a handful of ashes in my palms.

But now, for the first time in a long time, my eyes blur with tears.

“Spearcrest, then?” Sophie says.

I nod, turning away to quickly wipe my eyes with my knuckles. She pulls the car out of the car park and onto the road. I gaze wordlessly out of the window, watching the ugly concrete fortress and barbed-wired walls disappear.

Finally, I manage to squeeze my voice out through my constricted throat.

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay any of you.”

“Well, when people who love you do things to help you, usually they only want one thing in return,” Sophie says.

I glance at her. “What?”

“Your happiness.”

I scoff. “C’mon, now. Life’s not a movie.”

“Definitely not,” Sophie says. “If it was, you’d be riding off into the sunset with my daughter and living happily ever after. Instead, you’re about to walk back into school to sit all your exams after some pretty traumatic stuff happened to you. Life’s not a movie, but it is what you make of it. There’s a lot of hard work ahead of you, and a lifetime of struggle and doubt and fear and pain. Really, the least you can do is try to be as happy as possible when it’s all said and done, no?”

I stare at her, but my throat is too tight to speak.

Sophie grins arrogantly.

“Exactly.”

45

Heart Problems

Elias

Life’s not a movie, but Spearcrest makes it feel like one. It’s springtime, that specific bit of spring that feels like summer is already here, which of course only ever happens during exam season. The trees are in full bloom, petals scattering the air, gathering in lazy eddies around the old courtyards. A warm breeze rustles the bushes of rhododendrons and wisteria that adorn the red brick buildings—I used to find their bright flowers garish, but maybe I’m getting old—or maybe my soul was starved of colours in the last seven days, because for the first time in my life, I realise how beautiful flowers actually are.

God. What a mortifying thought to have.

Sophie stops her car outside the school and smirks at me when I wave her goodbye with a quick salute. I pass the ornate gates with a strange mix of feelings bubbling in my chest: relief that I’m back, that Harvard is still on the cards, maybe, and that I’m not in jail. Dread, too, dread of being around all those rich kids who got to see me be dragged away by cops. And above all, a vaulting excitement that leaps like flames in my chest, a hungry, sparking anticipation.

I want to see her.

The gravel crunches beneath my feet as I walk briskly up the path towards the Old Manor to sign myself back in. The air is a warm caress, and it smells like the sun, which is a particular perfume I associate with a particular person. Like all beautiful things in this world, probably. Pearls and starlight and white lilies and bluebells and the sun and the ocean.