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I see again my brother kneeling in front of Georgia, prying her knees apart. I dig my thumbnail into the side of my finger to force the image away and I streak down the corridor and screech as I push into the assembly hall.
‘Let’s celebrate!’ I shout, and Mina and Lydia race after me. We run loops on the parquet, Mina starts singing ‘We Are the Champions’, and then we collapse in a pile on the floor.
But staying still brings back the sight of Tristan’s hand reaching up Georgia’s skirt and I jump up again. ‘What are we doing inside?’ I shout. ‘It’s such a beautiful afternoon!’
We race outside and kick off our shoes and sit with our feet in the fountain. We joke about the porn we’d plastered across the common room, about Georgia sneaking it home for her own pleasure. We laugh about her hair.
We don’t talk about what just happened.
Our smiles are too wide, too fixed.
Some boarders walk by and Lydia kicks water at them and they laugh and jog away.
It’s almost six when Mother pulls up in our Rolls Royce. She leans out of her window. ‘Should you really be doing that?’ she asks.
‘Oh, Mother,’ I say.
She purses her lips and turns off the engine.
Then I see him, Tristan, leaning against the door-frame, just inside the school, half obscured by the light on the door’s windows. There’s something dark on his face and he’s not coming out, just standing there.
I know immediately that something is wrong. I feel compressed, like there’s going to be a thunderstorm.
I jump up, wanting to get to him before anyone else sees him.
I pull open the door. ‘Tris?’
His eyes are so round. His skin is pale. The dark stuff is blood. There’s an open wound on his cheek.
‘Oh my God!’ I reach for him and he holds out a hand.
‘Is Mother here?’ he asks, even though he must’ve seen our car.
I nod.
‘Get her.’
I don’t ask, I just run over, and Mother sighs and pulls herself out with some effort as I crawl in the back, feeling cold.
Lydia drops off the lip of the fountain and sticks her head into the car. ‘Princess?’
I shake my head and hug my knees.
She and Mina come in and sit either side of me.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mina asks.
Lydia takes my hand but I shrug her away.
I can’t see my mother or Tristan. They must’ve moved out of the doorway.
‘Frances?’ says Lydia.
‘Tristan’s been hurt.’
‘What do you mean?’ says Mina.
I lay my hand on the side of my face. ‘He has a cut – a gash – on his cheek.’
