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I raise an eyebrow, and she continues without waiting for my response. “He always insisted we’d get together after I finish school — not for want of trying on my part, of course. Everyone always assumed we were at it, the way everyone always assumeseveryone’sat it, so what was the harm of actually doing it…? But he refused — because he’s a good, decent, principled man. So instead, I’d go to his rooms, and he’d watch me or paint me—”
“I really don’t need to know—”
“The point is, it was all very sophisticated and intimate, unlike your ghastly, violating arrangement.” Her face remains impassive yet her words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I feel as though a good, principled man wouldn’t be angling for school students in the first place. Arabella’s tone drips with condescension as she adds, “Or maybe you secretly enjoy being a whore for the biggest dickheads in school?”
It takes every effort not to open my mouth and argue with her, but I know full well she won’t listen. She carries a provocative spirit, like the sting of a bee before… before…
Her face twists with disgust and she continues, her voice growing louder, “You must belovingthis. This is such an easy victory for you, listening to my sordid little tales. You finally get to lord my failed life over me.”
“Does it look like I’m lording it over you?” I ask Arabella carefully, keeping my voice level and expression neutral despite the unbidden anger rising within. This conversation has gone on long enough and I’ve learned far more about Arabella than I ever wanted.
“Of course not,” she sneers, and turns away for a moment. “You always have to pretend to be the bigger person. Even when you’re being attacked, even when you’re under pressure. You’re always so stupidly, irritatinglyfair.” Her voice cracks a bit and she walks away from me, swallowing thickly. After taking a few deep breaths, she regains control of herself and looks at me. “It hardly matters, anyway. He’s another who finds me a nuisance now.”
I’ve seen the adoration in Dr. Moncrieff’s eyes when he looks at Arabella in class. I’ve seen the way he indulges her with warm, private smiles. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he talks to her, about her, his voice gentle and reverent. I remember the two of them at the senior dance, their bodies flush together, heat and electricity zipping between all the secret places they touched. I remember watching them from the wall in stunned, fascinated silence, unable to believe that someone could love another so much, and wishing to experience likewise.
Dr. Moncrieff would never let her go. It’s Arabella who’s shutting others out.
“You were good together,” I say, and I see the sadness glisten in her eyes, the disappointment. She never expected me to praise their connection. She looks as though I’ve crushed her hopes and everything she’s ever believed in. “I may not approve, but… I think you were good together. He made you calmer.”
“I had to let him go,” she whispers, looking demoralized. “He’d begun having doubts.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises again.
“Doubts?” I ask, my heartbeat quickening.
“About his brother. About our mission.” Briskly, Arabella adds, “Antiro cannot thrive with non-believers and negativity within its ranks. For the greater good, he had to go.” Her features shift into one of determination and defiance, a zealot’s fire blazing in her eyes. “There was no other choice.” But despite her strong words, regret and a soft shade of grief remain etched on her expression: regret because her programming meant she had no other choice, and grief because the Antiro cult forced her to abandon her closest confidant.
“So Antiro made you cut yourself off from him, and now you’re sad enough to be up here and do this,” I murmur. “Don’t you get it? Theywantto cut you off from the people who care about you, because then they can control you more easily. You must see their ruse. You aren’t any purer without support in your life, just easier to prey upon.”
I watch her closely, hoping for a sign of agreement on her part, but she turns from me as though I’m invisible and gazes silently at the sea.
“Without anyone left to guide you, activism for Antiro will consume you,” I continue gently. “It’ll take over your very personality, your entire being. Because when you’re radicalized like that, you’re little more than a tool for someone else’s cause. A foot soldier for a movement.” I take a hesitant step forward. “Arabella, this isn’t you. This is you trying to reason with the demands Antiro’s placed upon you, and realizing you’ve been trapped so badly that you think you have no other option but this. This is you trying to take whatever control you have and leave for good. Antiro’s taken over your life.”
“Don’t make it political.”
“Ah, the classic ‘don’t be political when it makes me look bad.’”
Arabella shoots me a withering look, but I’m determined for her to see sense before time runs out. “We can help you. We’ll help you leave them. It’s not right, the way Antiro’s taken advantage of your loyalty and shot you in the back.”
“You’re loving this,” Arabella mutters spitefully again. “I mean, it was okay for you, you just took your clothes off and gained a group of goo-goo-eyed followers at your beck and call. Some of us had to find our groups without stripping. Some of us had to actuallyfightfor acceptance.”
The waves are so harsh against us now that I swear I hear the rumble of rock chipping away and falling to the sea.
“Look…” It’s been the one constant in all our time together, Arabella needling me for my talent show performance. To me, it’s something from another lifetime, but to Arabella, it seems to have been some kind of formative experience. I should be flattered, but… “If I had my time again,” I begin in a slow voice, “I probably wouldn’t have done what I did. Yes, all the bad things you believe about me were true at the time. I did it for attention. I did it for shock value. I did it to make the chiefs obsessed with me — because all I ever wanted was to smash their hearts into a thousand pieces.”
Her eyes widen at this revelation. It’s something I’ve shared with no one, not even the chiefs.
“I was twisted with revenge. I wanted them hurt. But I went around everything the wrong way, because I wasscared. Because I was a girl and I thought my only worth was my body, so I used it as a shortcut to gain other people’s validation.” I pause, feeling a strange bubble of shame for myself at that time. Perhaps Arabella’s trying to make me as demoralized as her. But even thinking of my time on that stage, of the twisted ease with which I’d planned to break boys’ hearts, I know now that thinking like that minimizes the absolute magic that women are capable of. Yes, we’re our bodies, but we’re our minds and hearts too. Quietly, I tell Arabella, “Although I’ll never regret it, because it led me to where I am today, I still think I could have done things differently.”
Arabella looks uneasy at my words. Perhaps she hadn’t expected self-awareness.
“I don’t blame you for wanting revenge. I wanted vengeance for myself, against those who made me suffer. Your chiefs.” She pauses, and through a mocking sneer, says, “The whole point of Lochkelvin becoming mixed-sex was to get rid of all-boys schools. Said it turned out sexists who can’t talk to girls. Imagine that.”
I say nothing, letting her vent. Venting is better than bottling up the hurt. It’s better than staring at the abyss and fantasizing.
“I wish I’d gone to St. Catherine’s instead,” Arabella whispers bitterly. “Boys have ruined my high school experience.”
“You still have time. In a few months, we’ll be free, school will be over—”
