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Torturing Arabella comes sooner rather than later, and it’s not me who’s the torturer.
In the entrance hall one cold November morning, Freya is dressed impeccably in a tailored checkered coat, pointed brown boots, and a furry black hat. Her blonde hair falls around her face in soft waves. She looks the epitome of expensive taste. Brown hard-shell suitcases surround her, while members of the Lochkelvin staff load a car with them in the grounds beyond.
“Be careful with that, please,” she says sweetly, holding out a hatbox. “It’s very delicate.”
Danny and I are huddled at the top of the stairs, taking stock of the situation. We glance at one another, nonplussed.
“I don’t get it. Where’s she going?”
“Away,” Rory says easily, sidling up to me to take in the action.
He stands incredibly close and I have to swallow as I watch Freya, her gloved hands waving at passers-by.
And then Arabella comes down for breakfast with Becca in tow. It seems like Arabella is the person Freya’s been waiting for, and the whole entrance hall grows quiet as she descends the staircase.
There’s a bemused expression on Arabella’s face as she observes the scene in front of her.
“What are you doing?” She sounds baffled as she watches staff member after staff member remove Freya’s belongings. “What’s all this?”
“I’m leaving Lochkelvin.” Freya gives her an almost watery smile. “I’ve been transferred to St. Moir’s for the rest of my studies.”
Arabella stares at her like she didn’t hear her correctly. Her voice is scratchy when she asks, “What?”
“I can’t keep doing this, Elly!” It bursts out from her, finally giving us the one hint of clear emotion we’ve seen all morning. “Do you know how much guilt I carry, just by being here?”
Rory slides a glance in my direction. I pretend not to notice.
“And besides, my dad needs me. The ritual told me as much. And I can help him more if I’m closer to home.”
My muscles tense at Freya’s words. She’s making life-changing decisions based on my made-up prophecy?
“Don’t do this,” Arabella says, looking shaken. “Please. You’re my best friend here—”
But Freya just shakes her head. “I can’t deal with this school anymore. EvenIcan feel the poison within these walls. It’s suffocating. I need a change of scenery, somewhere far, far away from everyone here.” Her eyes flick up to the staircase, where we’re gazing at her avidly. “There are certain people I can’t be reminded of, or of my role in their downfall.”
“It wasn’t you,” Arabella says, over and over. “It wasn’tyou.” She looks like she wants to say more but is too aware of the rest of the school watching them together. “You weren’t the one behind it. You weren’t responsible for any of it—”
“No, but I wasthere, wasn’t I?” There’s a dark bitterness in her tone. “I thought I’d be a better person if I studied here. But it’s turned me into one of them. You promised it’d get better, that the guilt would disappear. Ithasn’t. The only way I can be better and make amends is to leave. It’s the only way.”
Arabella’s shaking her head wildly, as if to dislodge this nightmare from her head. “Don’t do this,” she pleads softly. “You’re my best friend, you can’t justleave…”
“Oh, Elly,” Freya sighs. “You’ll be perfectly fine without me. This is where you belong. Lochkelvin is a political academy and I’m just not very political.” With a shrug, she pulls out the handle of her large suitcase and begins to wheel it out. “You can see me in the holidays,” she tells Arabella, her voice as warm and kind as the day I first met her.
Arabella says nothing. It’s as though she’s in shock. She watches Freya steer her suitcase outside onto the grounds, and then follows, running through the front doors after her.
Excited chatter begins to erupt in the entrance hall, getting louder and louder until all I want to do is crawl back into bed.
“Nothing like a bit o’ lesbian drama in the morning,” Finlay chirps nonchalantly, standing behind us. “Though the kind I’m used tae has fewer clothes and mair kissin’.”
I can’t even think properly right now. Freya has left… because of what I told her. A single piece of fiction has had this kind of consequence? And because of her guilt over, what, Operation Strike First? Either way, I’m pivotal to her decision to leave Lochkelvin, and that… that makes me feel strange.
I’m frowning at my fingers wrapped around the thick wooden banister. “Maybe I should talk to her.”
Danny cocks his head to the side. “She made your life miserable,” he reminds me. “The girls were gaslighting you so hard that you were forced to become pals withme.”
Despite his sarcasm, Danny raises a good point. I watch as Arabella rushes back into the entrance hall, her hands to her eyes like she’s heard the most devastating news, tears streaming behind her, small breathy sobs falling from her mouth.
