AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The knight needed a morale boost.”
“And the king?” Luke asks lightly, an eyebrow cocked in interest.
Danny licks his lips. “The king was always strong.”
Luke’s smile widens. His attention turns back to me. “How do you expect to win if your opponent is ten times more powerful than you?”
I screw my face up. “It doesn’t matter howpowerfulthey are — an opponent can still make a mistake.”
For a moment, Luke seems impressed. “True. Very true. However, the point is, if you had a more equal chess partner to begin with, you wouldn’t need to hope for a blunder to take advantage of, and you’d also win more games.”
“Right. So I should start playing against a loaf of bread then, yeah?”
It’s the morning before the St. Camford open day, and there’s a weird party energy in the air. Escaping Lochkelvin, it seems, is a prospect thrilling enough to lift everyone’s spirits.
To the left of us, Rory holds court with a significant cohort of gremlins hanging on to his every word. Finlay assists beside him, contributing whenever something needs further clarification. But the mission, as it seems, is to let logic and order control life at Lochkelvin. To not allow the school to descend into free-for-all chaos while its chiefs are temporarily gone.
“In our belief, there’s an Antiro informant in the castle,” Rory declares, and several pairs of eyes widen in shock. He’s perched on the surface of the dining table, leaning over himself, his most trusted gremlins dotted around him on the benches of the table opposite. “We cannot allow this threat from certain quarters to gain traction. For Luke’s safety, it’s paramount. They’ll take advantage of our absence to sow confusion around the school and convert as many students as possible to their way of thinking.”
The sight of Rory speaking to the gathered gremlins makes such a surreal image that I can’t look away. It’s not the first time the thought’s crossed my mind about Rory looking every inch a general speaking to his troops. It is, however, the first time the content of his words could be interpreted as a battle plan.
“We need to launch an attack,” Rory announces, slamming his hands together. “We need to show them Lochkelvin won’t stand for propaganda. Luke is our friend and confidante, and he has been to all of us here. He deserves respect — and with your help, we can make that happen.”
“Can you force respect?” I wonder, and Luke tilts his head to the side. He seems entirely unperturbed that the conversation to the left of us is all about him. “Bullying people into submission doesn’t work, surely?”
“Well, why do people bully?” he asks philosophically. “They want something the other person has. Resources. They want to flex and prove themselves. Status. They want to defend someone else. Protection. They bully to ally with another. Friendship. Whether it works or not is a different question.”
“While we’re gone, you’re to be in charge of this school,” Rory states, standing upright, and his gremlins nod with determination, a battalion of inspired faces. “I expect Lochkelvin to be its regular stronghold upon my return.”
Looking grim-faced and like a force of nature, Rory catches my eye and nods. He’s ready. The school’s ready.
But I’m not.
There’s still one thing I need to do before I leave today, and that’s speak to Dr. Moncrieff.
When you’re a final year student trying to better yourself, there’s plenty of running around involved. Dr. Moncrieff isn’t at the staff table, nor in his classroom. I traipse up and down three floors, and just before I speculate if he and Arabella are engaging in some stomach-churning last-minute goodbyes, I eventually track him down in the empty British politics section of the library, a tall stack of reference texts towering beside him.
He stares at me in surprise, looking as though no one has interrupted his private study in the library for hours. “Can I help you?”
I’m holding out one of the leaflets given to me by the career adviser, which describes how a reference should be structured and what content it should contain. “I need a reference,” I blurt. “About what an amazing student I am, et cetera.”
Dr. Moncrieff’s lips turn up at the corners slightly as he accepts the leaflet. It’s a strange sight. I thought he’d forgotten how to smile. “Strictly speaking, it’s the headmistress who should be initiating this—”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes speaking. “I don’t want a reference from Baxter. You know she hates me. I’d never get into any university if she has free rein of my application.”
“Ah.” Dr. Moncrieff nods. “So you think I’m a soft touch.”
I frown. “You know me better than any other teacher. And you’ve said nice things about me in the past.” I’m beginning to feel extremely awkward. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong, and I’m being too needy and demanding. But a gentle smile continues to play on his lips, and it’s confusing, because the more I’m around Dr. Moncrieff, the more easily it is to see the resemblance between him and his younger brother.
“No, it’s true. Iama soft touch. I indulge your occasional rants, after all. When you stomp around my classroom expressing your extreme disappointment in me.”
He’s actually mocking me. I scowl at him. I don’t want to apologize for anything I’ve said in the past, not when I’ve meant it all with every fiber of my being. “I’m not going to beg,” I snap at him, frantically wondering if Professor Hodgson could be persuaded to provide an accurate reference for me, and Dr. Moncrieff outright laughs.
It’s an astonishing sound that roots me to the spot. He takes the slip of paper from between my hands and advises me to return in half an hour.
It’s the longest thirty minutes on record. I leave the library out of sheer humiliation, and instead spend the rest of my time agonizing in the girls’ tower, packing anything I’ll need for our two-day visit to St. Camford’s.
Even if I don’t enjoy the open day at St. Camford’s, it’ll still be beneficial for me to at least cross it off my list. Honestly, given all that I’ve heard about it, it seems to be even more up itself than Lochkelvin, like Lochkelvin on steroids and boater hats, with students fromallthe stuck-up private schools in Britain flocking to it like the mothership.
