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6
Arabella wasn’t exaggerating. While breakfast had been an austere offering of oatmeal –porridge, I’ve been informed – and not much else, the tables groan with all sorts of brimming dishes at lunchtime.
I stare in astonishment at the colorful array of food. There are so many vegetables and bowls of fruit. Even mouth-wateringly tropical things like mango and papaya glisten on the tables.
“You know, this morning… I didn’t want to say anything and sound ungrateful. But this is a surprise.”
I grab a plate and help myself to a mixture of steamed veggies.
“Breakfast used to be jam-packed — like, literal jams, croissants, all kinds of fancy continental stuff for the toffs. But auntie believes we should start the day the right way, with a simple breakfast to ground us and remind us that we’re all one and the same. Some grains and a bit of water. It’s supposed to hark back to Scotland’s Calvinist history, you know?”
I don’t know, but I nod anyway. “She must have gotten a lot of push-back from that. Taking away food from kids.”
“Oh, she’s used to it by now. Everything she does is for their benefit but they’ll never see it that way. They’ve been too spoiled in life, and now they think they’re entitled to better things.” She scoops some mashed potato onto her veg-filled plate and pours over thick brown gravy. It makes me wonder what favor Baxter thinks she’s doing for my benefit by landing me in detention.
We sit together with the other girls. Only Li is missing, but it’s probably a good thing as we continue to receive dirty looks and sniggers.
You’d have thought the novelty ofoh my god, girlswould have worn off by now.
Becca smiles at me. “When’s your detention, Rebel Jessa?”
I make a small noise of dismay and Freya rubs my back. I lean into her touch gratefully.
“Detentions are held in the room beside the front hall after dinner,” Arabella informs me in a sniffy tone. “Don’tget into a habit of this. I can’t hang around with someone who keeps getting into trouble.”
“I didn’t do anything. You know I didn’t.”
But Arabella just shrugs like it’s not her problem.
It feels as though everyone is staring at us. I sigh. “What are we going to have to do to stop being gawked at? I’ve got eyes on the back of my head.”
“I know what you mean.” Freya glances at the young boys behind me, who laugh upon being noticed. “I can’t eat my salad in peace. I feel like they’re judging every bite.”
Becca raises an eyebrow. “You said strike first,” she says to Arabella. “You were right. We need to shut them down.”
Arabella glances over her shoulder in an almost regal manner before turning back to us. “Okay. Tomorrow night, we’ll set something up.”
“Why not tonight?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Because you’ve got detention and shinty practice is on Wednesdays. Tomorrow night, we’ll take them on. But Ican’tbe seen as being involved. I can’t. They would have my blood.”
Freya looks over at the boys behind us, about to shove a large forkful of lettuce leaves in her mouth. “Tomorrow night.”
* * *
Idon’t have much time to think about exactly whattomorrow nightcould entail. After lunch, all I want to do is collapse into bed, full of food and utterly sated, but I still have two more classes before the end of the day. And then there’s my totally unjust detention to enjoy, too. Maybe I’ll be able to revise my politics notes there—
Shit.
I left my politics notes in the library. For some reason, I thought we’d all go back there to study after lunch, but everyone has remained in the dining hall. It’s the sciences this afternoon and I’m the only one of the girls who picked physics. I feel like I already have a pretty good grasp of the subject, so I’m not as worried about that as politics.
Politics is going to be the bane of my existence at Lochkelvin.
As I limp upstairs, I turn heel and head to the library. It’s a chance for me to explore this weird, ancient school by myself. Paintings hang from the gray stone walls — mainly vibrant landscapes of Scotland, rolling green hills and glens, but there are a few portraits scattered between them. Serious-looking men in black robes glare down at me. In the middle of the row of paintings, in prime position, is a younger man. He’s poised, dignified, with a long nose and a flick to his fair hair.
I squint up at the gilt frame.Fourth baron of Lochkelvinshire, founder of Lochkelvin Academy.
He looks more like a banker than the founder of a school. I sigh and continue on my way to the library. It’s a different world here, a lot further from the Greenvale life I’d told the girls about, where the most sinister thing had been the fixed grins on the faces of the cheerleading squad.
