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Theodora
Thatnight,nomatterhow much I try, I can’t fall asleep.
Why would Inessa be avoiding me? At first, there’s no reason I can think of. Inessa’s been my closest, truest friend ever since she transferred to Spearcrest. I did my best to keep her safe from other girls, and she’s the only person I’ve ever fully let in, fully trusted.
But then, the more I think about it, the more reasons I begin to find for her avoiding me.
She might not know my father confiscated my phone and is angry I didn’t message her for so long. She might be upset that I spent more time with my Year 13 friends instead of her when she knows I prefer her company to theirs. She might resent me for not having told her where I was, for being gone so long.
She might even be upset about what happened with my father since the more I think about it, the more certain I am she will know about it through her own father. Inessa returns home to Russia for every single holiday—while she was home and I was gone, her family might have said anything to her.
Does she think that turning my back on my father, my family, means turning my back on her? If she would only speak to me, she would know that’s not the case. I would never turn my back on Inessa, no matter what.
I make the decision that night to confront her the following day, but when I wake up in the morning after a few hours of poor sleep, I change my mind. Inessa probably needs time and space, she doesn’t need to be cornered and questioned.
I remember what Zachary said to me in that little room in Primrose Cottage.
Don’t hate me from afar. Hate me from up close.
For the first time, I understand how he feels. Even if Inessa is angry at me—furious at me—even if she hates me with every fibre of her being—I would still rather she hate me right to my face, hate me from up close, just so I could still be near her.
Idebatewhattodo for the next two days, even though I should be concentrating on my studies and assignments. When I sit next to Zachary in literature class, his silent, steady presence is a wall of light next to me.
I’m desperately tempted to turn and ask him for advice. I know that no matter what, he would give me good advice. Well thought-out and balanced and kind and reasonable advice.
I sneak him a glance, and he catches me looking. He smiles at me, that beautiful Blackwood smile, bright teeth in that handsome brown face, dimples carving those sharp cheeks. A smile glowing with easy arrogance and shameless adoration. It makes my heart ache, and I drop my gaze quickly.
In the end, since I can’t possibly bring myself to ask him for advice, I turn to the next best thing and go looking for Zahara.
AfewdaysafterI returned to Spearcrest, a package arrived for me, containing a school uniform in my size, brand-new clothing and pyjamas in shades of cream and white and blue and sage, toiletries, a brand-new bottle of my perfume, and a new phone still in its pristine white box.
There was no sender and no note, but when I started up the phone, two numbers were saved on the brand-new account.
Zachary’s and Zahara’s.
Although I never used Zachary’s, Zahara and I texted almost every day since. So when I messaged her telling her I needed her advice, she replied almost immediately.
Zahara:Come to the creepy fountain by the old greenhouse. I’ll be there.
When I get there, the sun is high in the sky, and dapples of soft sunlight fall on the moss-devoured marble of the fountain. I find Zahara there, sitting on the rim of the fountain in her summer uniform, her hair half-caught in a gold claw, the curls cascading around her slim shoulders. She’s smoking a cigarette and seems to be talking to someone.
I draw closer to the fountain and spot a dark shadow towering amongst the trees.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Hey.”
Iakov in his uniform is always a jarring sight, but it barely looks like a uniform on him anyway. His shirt is untucked, the top buttons undone, and the tattoos covering his arms and chest make him look like a criminal, not a student.
I let my eyes fall scornfully away from him, turning to Zahara.
“Shall I come back later?”
“No, no.” She pats a dry patch of moss next to her on the fountain rim. “We’re just borrowing Fido’s smoking spot for a bit.”
“I can come back later,” I say stiffly. “Once you’re alone.”
She frowns and then looks from me to Iakov. “You don’t want him here?”
