Night School: Legacy Page 8

  So she walked away before he could see her face and know how miserable she was. Blindly, she stumbled down the hall and up the stairs to the ground floor. She wasn’t sure where she was going or if anybody was following her. She really didn’t want to talk to Carter right now. Or Mr Patel.

  Or anyone.

  It was just all so embarrassing.

  She shoved open the back door and darted down the footpath.

  One hundred and twelve steps. One hundred and thirteen. One hundred and fourteen …

  After a minute, though, her exhausted muscles protested so loudly she slowed her pace. The night was cool – the rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing away. A glowing crescent moon dusted the landscape in silver.

  Through the trees she caught a flash of something white. At first her breath stopped. Then she remembered.

  The folly.

  She’d forgotten all about the little gazebo where she’d hidden with Jules the night of the fire, but now she made her way over to its hiding place behind a line of trees.

  The dome-roofed white structure was encircled by narrow columns. The moonlight illuminated the statue at its centre – a girl in a silky gown dancing eternally, arms above her head, a stone veil slipping through her fingers.

  On the cold marble step next to the statue’s bare feet, Allie rested her head on her knees. But now that she wanted to cry, tears wouldn’t come. She felt empty.

  Maybe I’m not cut out for it after all, she thought wretchedly. Maybe I’m not good enough for Night School.

  She tried to imagine what it would be like to fail at Night School completely. What would Jules think? Or Lucas? Would they want to be her friend if they knew what a loser she was?

  Jo was kicked out, she reasoned. And it hasn’t totally ruined her life.

  But Jo was different. She travelled in the same social circles as Lucas and Katie and Jules. Her family was important. They’d all like her no matter what. Allie was an outsider. Her parents were nobody. She would never run into the others on skiing trips in Switzerland or shopping on Bond Street or Fifth Avenue.

  Because she’d never be in those places.

  Except I’m Lucinda’s granddaughter. The very thought was heady. So maybe I should be.

  ‘Allie.’

  At the sound of the distinctive French voice, Allie looked up. Sylvain stood at the foot of the steps, his expression unreadable in the dark.

  ‘Hey.’ Allie put her head back down again. ‘What’s up? Seen any really rubbish new Night Schoolers lately?’

  He sat down on the step beside her. ‘I wanted to make sure you were OK.’

  ‘Yeah well.’ Allie sat up. ‘I’m a total loser. But otherwise I’m fine. So … move along. There’s nothing to see here.’

  ‘I saw what happened.’ His vivid blue eyes met hers; colour crept across her cheeks as she turned away.

  Shrugging to show how much she didn’t care, she said, ‘I hope it was entertaining.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I know what went wrong. I can help.’

  ‘I know what went wrong, too.’ She didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I couldn’t do a really simple move. It was pretty obvious. I just … failed.’

  He ignored her self-pity. ‘Zoe is very good but she is young. She’s never taught anybody before. She was showing you the right things but she missed some details. Your hands were in the right place but your feet were wrong every time. If your feet are not right it will not work. I can teach you. If you let me.’

  She studied him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t see any sign that he was making fun of her – his voice was steady and calm. And there was something about him that made her feel comforted. Maybe he could help. She couldn’t bear another nightmare session like the one she’d just had.

  As she hesitated, though, one thought nagged at her the most.

  Carter wouldn’t like this …

  But Carter wasn’t here. And she had to practise.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘We can try. But be aware: I totally suck at this.’

  His smile was confident. ‘I promise you can do it.’

  He led her to a nearby clearing where the pine needles lay thick enough on the ground to make a springy mattress.

  After kicking stones and fallen branches out of the way, he turned to her.

  ‘Now, stand as if you were about to attack me,’ he said.

  Allie crouched down and tried to look tough, her arms bent at her side, hands curled into fists. Amusement flickered in his eyes; he struggled to contain a laugh. ‘OK, that is all wrong.’ He walked closer to her. ‘Look, you’re a runner, so your strength is in your legs. Stand up straight.’

  Over the next few minutes he explained to her how to arrange her body into the correct posture – legs straight but knees soft, arms loose at her side, feet shoulder-width apart. But something still wasn’t right.

  ‘Turn your feet this way,’ he said, demonstrating. When she tried to emulate him, he shook his head. ‘No, that’s not quite right.’

  Crouching down beside her, he reached out for her leg. Instinctively, she flinched away from his touch.

  He stopped, his hands still outstretched. He looked up at her, moonlight turning the blue of his eyes to glitter.

  ‘May I?’ he asked.

  Allie’s stomach tightened. It would be stupid not to let him touch her ankle. He was being helpful.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. Her voice sounded small and she cleared her throat, watching as he carefully took her ankle in his hands to reposition her foot. His hands were warm against her skin.

  If he noticed her anxiety, he didn’t show it. When she was in position, he demonstrated how she should grab him. Again, he asked permission before touching her. This time, though, she said ‘yes’ with more confidence.

  His body pressed lightly against hers as he moved one of her hands to his shoulder, and the other to his elbow – sliding her fingers gently into place. She stood stiffly but his light touch spread goosebumps across her skin.

  I’m trying to throw him violently to the ground, she told herself. Surely that’s OK, even after everything that happened?

  Stepping back, he demonstrated how to shift her weight when she made her move. After she’d practised a few times they decided to do it for real.

  ‘OK, so … Now I will run at you,’ he said. ‘Just do what you practised and it will work perfectly.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ she said with false confidence.

  I’m going to screw this up. I’m going to screw this up. I’m going to …

  Then Sylvain ran at her and the circular thoughts stopped. Her mind went still. Grabbing his arm, she shifted her weight as he’d taught her.

  He landed on his back at her feet.

  She gave a small cheer and waited for him to tell her how brilliantly she’d done, but he said nothing. In fact, he didn’t move. He lay still on the ground, his eyes closed.

  ‘Sylvain?’ Her heart thudded with sudden panic as she dropped to the ground beside him. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing. ‘Sylvain? Are you OK? Have I killed you?’

  Then she noticed his body shaking with laughter. His eyes flew open. ‘I knew you could do it,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ Allie chided him, but his laughter was infectious and she jumped to her feet. ‘I did it! I did it!’ Dancing through the trees, she clasped her hands above her head in a pose of victory.

  Suddenly she stopped in front of him. ‘Hang on a minute. Sylvain, did you actually play a joke on me? Like, an actual joke? Or did I just dream that?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ He feigned surprise. ‘I have a very good sense of humour.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘OK … Seriously.’ He led the way back to the clearing. ‘You did very well. I would make a few small adjustments but it was good.’

  ‘Teach me.’ She could hear the fierceness in her own voice. ‘I want to learn it all.’

  Something in his face to
ld her that he understood how she felt. But he said only, ‘OK. Let’s start with an attack from the right. You need to adjust your stance slightly.’

  Over the next half-hour he taught her how to handle attackers from different sides – how to pivot into position with no warning. How to fight back. By the end, they were both sweating despite the cool night air.

  He was so professional and polite in his approach, she soon forgot her hang-ups about him touching her. He was teaching her how to elude a neck-hold, his arms wrapped around her from behind, her hands on his wrist, when Carter walked into a pool of moonlight and stood looking at them in disbelief.

  ‘Allie? What the hell is going on?’

  NINE

  Surprised, she stared at him wide-eyed for a long instant before she was able to react.

  ‘It’s just … you know … we …’ she stuttered, unable to think of an explanation.

  As she spoke, Sylvain dropped his arms and stepped back. With a sick feeling, she realised how it must have looked. Carter’s eyes were fixed on Sylvain – tension crackled in the air between them like electricity.

  ‘Sylvain was teaching me how to flip people. It was just … practice.’ Her voice quivered before slowly fading into silence.

  ‘I don’t get it. Didn’t we just have an hour-long lesson from Raj?’

  ‘Yeah but …’ Heat rose in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know if you noticed. It didn’t go very well.’

  ‘I could have helped you.’ He was pale with anger.

  This is bad.

  ‘Hang on. You don’t under— It’s not like I asked him. We sort of … I don’t know. Ran into each other.’ She avoided looking at Sylvain, but a strange mixture of panic and resentment flooded through her. He’d just spent ages helping her. And she still had the right to choose her own friends. Didn’t she?

  She shot Carter a warning look. ‘It’s not like you’re the only person who can help me. We’re not chained to each other at the ankle. You and Jules seemed to have a good time working together and you don’t see me freaking out about that.’

  ‘You know that’s not the same thing,’ he snapped. Hectic spots of colour appeared in his cheeks, and tendons bulged on his neck like exposed wires. ‘I can’t believe you’d come out here with him after what he did to you.’

  Instantly images of the summer ball flashed in Allie’s mind. Sylvain shoving her against a wall, kissing her hard. Refusing to let her go even as she fought.

  It was Carter who had found them. Carter who made him stop.

  Just remembering that night made her feel sick. She swallowed hard.

  But Sylvain had spent months trying to make it up to her; he’d rescued her the night of the fire. She believed he was truly sorry.

  Was she just being naive?

  ‘This is stupid, Allie.’ Carter sounded impatient, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. ‘I’m not going to stand here arguing with you in front of Sylvain. It’s after curfew. Jules was wondering where you were and she sent me to look for you. You need to get back.’ Then he turned on his heel and strode back towards the school building.

  Watching him disappear through the trees, Allie stood very still but her thoughts were chaotic and confused. She was surprised by her own anger – it was as if he’d thought she’d been cheating on him with Sylvain just because she was working out with him.

  As if he didn’t trust her.

  Suddenly the night felt empty and quiet; she took a deep calming breath of the cool air and for the first time noticed the stars, like silver frosting on the dark sky.

  She was glad Sylvain hadn’t said anything, hadn’t made things worse. For a second, she thought about saying something to him about that night. About maybe forgiving him for the bad things and remembering only the good. About being friends.

  But she didn’t.

  And as they walked back towards the school building in awkward silence, she thought about the things she should say. The things Carter would want her to say.

  I really appreciate your help, Sylvain. But we can’t ever do it again. Carter wouldn’t understand and he really doesn’t want me hanging out with you. Or speaking to you. Or breathing the same air as you.

  But, instead, all she said was, ‘Thanks for helping me.’

  As he held the door for her his eyes were as blue and enigmatic as the smooth surface of a lake. And all he said was, ‘You’re welcome.’

  The next morning, despite the late night, Allie woke before her alarm went off and couldn’t get back to sleep. Giving up on rest, she sat up slowly, feeling the new aches in her muscles.

  Everything hurt.

  With a groan, she climbed out of bed and draped a towel over her shoulder before trudging down the silent hallway. The bathroom was mostly empty, although she could hear water running in one of the showers.

  The last cubicle in the row was her favourite – it seemed bigger than the others, and lighter. Setting her slippers on the teak bench, she hung her robe on a polished brass hook set into a wall tiled in cream-coloured stone. The long, hot shower loosened her knotted muscles, and by the time she padded out of the cubicle she felt like herself again, but she was no longer alone. Another girl, swathed in a white Cimmeria robe identical to Allie’s, stood at a sink.

  To give them both privacy, Allie chose a sink well away from her. But as she studied herself in the mirror and scrubbed up a toothy foam the girl spoke.

  ‘Excuse me. Are you Allie?’ The accent was French. The voice light, musical.

  ‘Yes?’

  The girl moved closer. She was tiny, Allie saw now. Barely five feet tall, and delicate, with enormous brown eyes and ludicrously lush lashes. She looked strangely familiar but Allie couldn’t place her.

  ‘I thought so.’ The girl seemed pleased. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Sylvain. I am Nicole.’

  Allie had never heard of her – Sylvain had never mentioned her.

  ‘Oh yeah … I mean …’ she said through the toothpaste. ‘Of course. It’s nice to meet you.’

  Nicole blinked up at her. ‘He talked about you so much over the summer term in his letters – I feel that I know you.’

  She even blinks prettily, Allie thought.

  She wasn’t sure what was happening here. Was Nicole Sylvain’s girlfriend? One he forgot to mention? And even if she was, what did that matter?

  She really needed to rinse her mouth.

  ‘Last night, he told me was going to check on you after training.’ Nicole seemed completely unaware the Allie was drooling foam. ‘He could see you were upset. Did he find you?’

  Colour crept into Allie’s cheeks. Night School. That’s where I saw her. And that means she saw me totally fail.

  ‘Yes. He did find me.’

  ‘And he helped you.’ Nicole said it as if there was no question anything else could have happened.

  ‘He was very helpful,’ Allie said stiffly. Then she turned around and spat out the toothpaste.

  After rinsing her mouth, she turned to gather her things, but when she looked up Nicole was still watching her.

  Her giggle was musical, like water trickling in a stream. ‘I am sorry to bother you without … warning.’ She wrinkled her pert nose. ‘It is just nice to know who you are.’

  ‘And it’s great to meet you at last,’ Allie said with false enthusiasm as she hurried out the door. ‘After hearing so much about you from Sylvain.’

  ‘Who is Nicole and why is she so pretty and French?’ Allie cast a sideways glance at Rachel.

  ‘Ooh. Sylvain’s off-and-on girlfriend. Very sophisticated, annoyingly gorgeous,’ Rachel said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Are they off now?’ Allie asked. ‘Or on?’

  Rachel arched one questioning eyebrow. ‘Off … I think. But who knows with those two? Why?’

  They were walking down the hall between classes. Allie longed to tell her everything that had happened last night, but she knew full well that, not only could she not mention it, but Rachel really wouldn’t want t
o hear about it anyway. She hated that suddenly she couldn’t tell her best friend everything. It felt uncomfortable – like an unspoken lie.

  ‘Oh it’s nothing, really.’ Allie shrugged. ‘She just talked to me in the bathroom this morning. Freaked me out.’

  ‘I hate being talked to in the bathroom,’ Rachel commiserated as she dodged a crowd of giggling girls. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Just that Sylvain told her all about me. It wasn’t weird or anything. It was just … weird.’

  ‘I understand completely,’ Rachel said, shaking her head and staring at Allie as if she were mad.

  ‘I know,’ Allie sighed. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It’s nothing. I have a more important question.’

  ‘Hit me.’

  ‘What’s the story with this Zoe creature?’

  ‘What?’ Rachel looked confused. ‘You mean Zoe Glass? When did you two meet?’

  Allie shrugged non-committally and Rachel shot her a knowing look. When she spoke again her tone was brisk. ‘Right. What do you want to know?’

  ‘What’s her story?’ Allie asked. ‘She’s strange. Like … I don’t know … a really violent robot.’

  Rachel didn’t laugh – she didn’t find anything related to Night School funny.

  ‘Zoe is your basic prodigy. She’s thirteen but she’s studying at our level – actually above our level – she takes college courses with a tutor—’

  ‘Wait. Seriously?’ Allie interrupted her, stopping so abruptly the person behind her ran into her. ‘Sorry,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder as the nervous first-year boy shuffled by without meeting her eyes. ‘She’s thirteen? I knew she was younger than us but …’

  ‘Seriously. She’s like a genius.’

  This was not at all what Allie expected to hear. But Rachel had more to tell. As they climbed the stairs to the first floor of the classroom wing she reeled off the basic Zoe facts.

  ‘Her dad’s a lawyer; her mum’s a journalist, I think. She’s from London like you. Her parents are older. Like, maybe she was an accident. Anyway, until she came here she was homeschooled by her grandparents. So until then, she’d never spent time with kids her own age.’ They reached the landing and slowed their pace as Rachel continued. ‘She’s totally socially awkward. It’s like she was raised by wolves. I think she’s probably a bit Asperger’s … but the good bit, if you know what I mean.’