Crushworthy Page 17

  Chastity fixed Strumpet with a long glare, but was ignored by the teacher, who was giggling like a cretin at something Dirk had whispered in her ear. The way these three carried on was frankly disgusting. Chastity wondered idly whether she should phone her mum and get her to complain. She decided, on balance and after remembering Mrs. Bennett’s furious expression on Sunday in her office, against it and resigned herself to whatever was coming next.

  “Right then,” Strumpet intoned, delighted at having these three exactly where she wanted them for once. “We’ve come to a decision.”

  “At last,” murmured Jinx to Liberty, earning herself a sharp look from Dirk.

  “Yes,” continued Gosh. These two often spoke like this, as if they were participating in a conversational relay race, the freaking idiots. “You can all start upstairs in the gym. Normally you’ll be separated, but some of the equipment up there is pretty heavy and you’ll need to move it to clean it properly.”

  “And we’ve got second-year badminton training on the court,” said Dirk, flashing an entirely inappropriate lewd wink at the girls, “so don’t worry, we’ll be able to keep a close eye on you.”

  “There will be no talking, no laughing, and absolutely NO gum chewing, mobile phones, or smoking this afternoon,” snapped Strumpet, who had caught the tail end of the wink and hadn’t liked it at all.

  “Go on then,” said Gosh. “Set to it. We’ve been told to let you go at half past five.”

  Jinx, Liberty, and Chastity looked at each other aghast. It was twenty past two now, so that meant over three hours’ work in this stinking sweat factory. They trooped miserably up the stairs to the mezzanine level over the courts that housed the gym to the backing track of the sports staff’s uproarious laughter at their expense. The girls could hardly believe their bad luck.

  Two hours later, covered in dust and absolutely furious at being treated like slaves, Chastity and Liberty were sitting on a pile of yoga mats, talking to Jinx, who was hanging upside down from the monkey bars and very red in the face. They could hear Dirk shouting instructions at the group of second-years who were playing a very noisy game of badminton beneath them, so they also felt no need to lower their voices. In fact, messy and gross and covered in cobwebs as everything up there was, spending the afternoon with your two best friends in the whole world was really not such a bad deal. The girls had got on with the job whilst giggling nonstop about what dicks and pricks such a lot of people in the world were. The sports staff, lots of the other teachers, and more than a few pupils were included in this list, and they’d actually cleaned most of the gym area already. The only things left to sort out were the mats—which Strumpet had infuriatingly insisted must each be cleaned individually and would be checked at the end of the day—so they were taking a much-deserved break before tackling them.

  They’d spilt the pile into three and were busily wiping each one clean when Chastity let out a surprised yell. The other two looked up to see her waving a bunch of papers in their direction.

  “What is it?” asked Jinx, leaving a grimy trail of black dust on her forehead as she wiped it with the back of one of her mucky hands.

  “I don’t know,” Chastity said, straightening up and unfolding one of the larger squares before studying it intently. “Hey,” she said, surprised, “I think it’s a plan of the school. How weird!”

  “You’re right, Chas.” Jinx peered over Chastity’s shoulder. “Look—this here is the main school building, those are the dining rooms and that’s the sports hall. It looks like an architect’s impression or something to me.”

  “But what do all these squiggles mean?” Liberty asked, staring confusedly at the plan in front of them.

  “I’m not sure,” replied Chastity, “but I think it’s Russian. Why would there be Russian writing all over architect plans of the school?”

  “Maybe,” said Jinx, who was more interested in clock-watching their final half hour than she was in the plans, “they’re getting a Russian architect to redo the dining rooms or the sports hall or something. In fact, I bet it’s this place and that’s why they’re making us sort it out like this.”

  “Maybe,” Chastity replied a bit doubtfully, “but why would they be left here, in the gym, shoved between a pile of yoga mats?”

  “God, who even cares?” Jinx said, walking back over to her diminishing pile of dirty mats and pointing at them. “These things won’t have been used since last term; maybe there was a meeting in the sports hall and they just got misplaced and then buried under this lot. Whatever, guys, we’ve only got twenty-five minutes left until we’re free to leave this dump, and I for one can’t freaking wait.”

  Chastity put the plans in her book bag and the three of them finished the job in silence without discussing them again. At 5:29 exactly the three of them skipped down the stairs, flashed knowingly irritating grins at the sports staff and prepared to go back to Tanner. As Liberty was zipping up her green, fluffy-hooded Parka jacket, the group of badminton-playing second-years, headed by Betsy Johnson, trooped out through the double swing-doors that led to the reception area of the sports hall, the staff office, and the girls’ suite of white-tiled changing rooms.

  Katie Green, trailing miserably at the back of the group of second-year girls, didn’t look up at first and had no idea the three lower-sixths were standing almost in front of her nose. When she looked up and saw them at such close quarters she flushed a deep, immediate red and started back in shock. The movement caused Liberty to look up from her zip. Liberty, unlike most of the others, did occasionally notice members of the lower school, and when her eyes fell on Katie she thought how unfortunate and unhappy the poor thing looked. And before she turned round to dash through the doors and race after Jinx and Chastity, who had gotten bored of waiting for her and pushed off towards Tanner, Liberty smiled extremely kindly at Katie.

  “Hello there,” she said warmly, as she pushed through the swing door.

  Liberty, racing up the drive in a tangle of scarf, books and bag, immediately forgot this little scene. Indeed, throughout her whole life she would never once think of it again. Katie, conversely, stopped where she stood as if shot through the heart with a golden arrow when Liberty smiled at her. She stared after the older girl in a trance when the latter turned on her Ugg-booted heel and raced off through the doors.

  It was only when Betsy Johnson, dashing off to an extra English lesson intended to help her with her mild dyslexia, bumped into Katie as she went past that she managed to pull herself together and slump into the changing room. She could hardly believe it. Liberty Latiffe, one of the ultimate queens of the lower sixth, had smiled at her. Her, Katie Green. She thought about nothing else for the rest of that day and it was the first thing she thought of when she woke up the next morning. She was still analyzing it the following week. In fact, that very night she sat up until four o’clock in the morning writing, screwing up, and rewriting sick little notes to Liberty. Fortunately for Liberty, she came to her senses eventually and the misspelt declarations of eternal love remained unsent and in the bin.

  Jinx and the others arrived home to find Daisy Finnegan sitting on the sofa reading a chunky physics book.

  “Hey Dais,” they chorused and sat down to tell her about their afternoon in the clink.

  Mr. Morris smiled his way past them a few minutes later, followed by the ever-present but much happier-looking Myrtle. Things had definitely changed in Tanner House this term, he thought.

  21 Crushworthy?

  Jinx Sat in the library on Monday morning after a way more subdued than normal break time, helping Liberty with a French translation that was due to Mr. Christie that afternoon. When Liberty bent her dark head over her books to attempt at least some of it herself, Jinx looked out the rain-soaked window and involuntarily let out a massive sigh. She couldn’t help it; she hadn’t heard a thing from Jamie since the party and was beginning to feel seriously down in the dumps. She had considered texting him, but couldn’t bear the idea of re
aching out to him when he was so clearly not reaching out to her.

  “What’s wrong, Jinx?” asked Liberty, looking up from her books and fixing Jinx with a worried glance. “Have we done it wrong?”

  “I’m not worried about our fucking French prep,” said Jinx, roughly pulling her curly blonde hair into a short ponytail and shaking her head. “I’m just pissed off generally.”

  Liberty knew Jinx was dying to hear from Jamie. Only a deaf, dumb, and blind person could have missed Jinx leaping on her phone every time it bleeped with a new text message and her invariably disappointed look when it proved—once again—not to be from him. She studied Jinx without saying anything, but raised an eyebrow at her best friend, silently encouraging her to share her feelings.

  “Okay,” admitted Jinx with another sigh. She knew that Liberty knew what was wrong with her, but hadn’t felt inclined to discuss it at all until now. “I want to know why the hell I haven’t heard a word from Jamie. I mean, we had such a great time at the party until…”

  “Chastity and Paul fucked it up!” finished Liberty, pushing her chair closer to Jinx’s and wrapping her in a huge hug.

  “Yeah,” muttered Jinx. “But, you know, shit happens and people just have to deal with it. George thought the whole thing was hilarious. Maybe he just doesn’t fancy me. Maybe,” she added in extremely morose tones, “he thinks I’m a bad kisser or something.”

  “Liberty Latiffe!” Jo appeared from behind one with the shelves in front of their desk, interrupting their little tête-à-tête, and stood before them with her hands on her hips. “I’ve been all over the school looking for you. I never imagined I’d find you in here.”

  Jinx shook her head. She was pretty fed up with everyone assuming their lot never did any bloody work. It was as good as slander and she’d had enough.

  “Jo,” she began, intending to give the secretary a piece of her mind once and for all, “we are in the lower sixth now, you know. We do have A Levels next year and—contrary to popular opinion, obviously—we do intend to pass the things.”

  “Whatever,” replied Jo. “Liberty, your father phoned an hour or so ago.”

  Liberty’s face blanched at this information. Jinx immediately forgot Jo, their work, Jamie, and everything else as she registered the look of blank shock on her friend’s face at this totally leftfield information. She grabbed Liberty’s hand and squeezed it tight as Jo leaned over and placed a telephone memorandum on the desk between them. Jo, wearing a long belted grey cardigan over her black trousers and blue shirt, flapped off in the direction of the main school and her many chores, leaving Jinx and Liberty sitting in stunned silence at their desk.

  “Bloody hell,” said Jinx quietly. “You haven’t heard a thing from him since you left Riyadh, have you?”

  “No,” Liberty muttered, picking up the piece of paper and studying it intently, “I haven’t.”

  “So…” Jinx said, wanting to ask a hundred questions but also not wanting to freak Liberty out any more than she currently was.

  “So,” replied Liberty, folding the memo into a series of smaller squares, “it doesn’t say anything other than he called and wants me to call him back when I can.”

  “Are you going to?” Jinx inquired gently, slipping her free arm round Liberty’s shoulders and pulling her close. “Do you want to?”

  “Yes I’m going to and yes I want to, “Liberty said determinedly. “I’ve actually kind of been expecting him to get in touch. I know we had that massive scene at the end of last term and he didn’t speak to me all through the holidays and all but he is my dad and I knew he’d want to know what I was up to at some point or other. Also,” she continued, smiling at Jinx, “last time I spoke to Mum she told me he’s still paying the fees.”

  “Really?” said Jinx, surprised, for she’d never once thought about who was paying for what. “You never said anything.”

  “Yep.” Liberty nodded. “Mum phoned to speak to Mrs. Bennett about sorting it all out and Mrs. B. told her they’d been paid in full right through to the end of the upper sixth. Apparently he did it at the beginning of this term. And as soon as I heard that I knew he must have gotten over it. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you—I’ve been mulling it over in my own mind I guess. The thing is,” she went on, sweeping her books into her bag, “he’s very stubborn.”

  “And proud,” added Jinx, also gathering her things together.

  “Yes,” Liberty replied. “So I was thinking about writing him a letter or something, but I guess I don’t have to now, do I? Let’s go back to Tanner. Will you sit with me when I call him?”

  “Of course I will,” answered Jinx. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Jinx and Liberty walked down the drive, heads lowered against the driving rain which had succeeded in soaking them completely in spite of their parka jackets, oversized scarves and matching baker boy hats. The pair of them heard the trilling sound of a text message at the same time that Jinx felt a vibration against her thigh. She rummaged around in her deep coat pocket and grabbed her phone as they turned the corner to Tanner. She pulled her cap down low over her forehead to shield her face from the relentless rain as she opened her new text.

  “It’s him!” she screamed, punching the top of Liberty’s arm, tossing her hat in the air and jumping up and down in delight. “At fucking last!”

  “What does it SAY?” Liberty yelled impatiently, stamping her foot and forgetting all about the imminent conversation she was due to have with her father. “Come on, let’s have it!”

  “It says,” read Jinx from the phone’s small screen, “‘Hey there hot chick, how’s tricks?’”

  Both of them shrieked at this point, gripped each other and started jumping up and down together with no regard whatsoever for the rapidly deepening puddle they were splashing all over themselves.

  Dirk, driving past in the opposite direction in his yellow Suzuki Swift—possibly the most cretinous car in existence and thus very suitable for his purposes, shook his head and thought to himself that, fit as they undoubtedly were, these Stagmount girls were all stark raving mad. He put his foot down, intent on racing away from them as fast as possible.

  The girls looked up but barely registered his passing, so intently were they both now staring back at Jinx’s phone.

  “‘If yr free next Saturday,’” Liberty took over the reading, “‘bring yr friends and come to Get Down or Get Wrecked at Skate Fest on the seafront. Love Jamie x.’”

  “LOVE!” Jinx yelled. “Did you see it said ‘LOVE’?”

  “Yes,” giggled Liberty. “I did see that. What the hell is the Skate Fest?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jinx in her normal voice, “but I’m sure I’ve heard George talk about it. I think it’s one of those skateboard things all the surf dudes are into. It’s a competition, I think, and there’s an after-party for everyone in one of the seafront bars afterwards. In fact,” she went on, sounding more convinced as the memories filtered into her brain, “I’m sure George and Jamie went to it last year. Yes, and one of their friends—it was Jamie’s housemate Daz, I think—was showing off and tried to do a somersault or something off his board on the ramp and missed it and totally fucked his back up. And another one broke his leg and had to be taken off to the hospital in an ambulance. And everyone got so drunk afterwards none of them remembered anything about it in the morning,” she finished with relish.

  “Do you think George and Jamie will be in the competition,” Liberty asked, wide-eyed at the thought of all these injuries. “It sounds really dangerous.”

  “I don’t think they will,” Jinx said, retrieving her hat from the bush it had landed in and shaking it violently to get rid of the water that had pooled inside it. “But I’m sure some of their friends will be in it. I guess they’ll be watching it with us. Whatever, it’s the next to last weekend of term and we’ve so got to go. God, I’m so excited! I thought I’d never hear from him again. I mean, I know about the three-day rule and everyth
ing, but it’s been nine freaking days since the party.”

  “I know,” Liberty said, beyond delighted that Jamie had finally seen fit to get in touch with her best friend, thrilled at the prospect of another big night out with no interruptions from Chastity and Paul this time and also secretly hoping the dark-haired boy from the party would be there. “I was a bit worried myself. And what a blast to go to this thing on our last Saturday of term!”

  “Totally,” confirmed Jinx, smiling widely as she rammed her sopping hat back on top of her head, blithely oblivious to the water—by now dripping down the back of her neck—and gripping Liberty’s arm. “Right, Latiffe, let’s get you back to Tanner and make this phone call.”

  They raced the rest of the way back. After shaking themselves like dogs in the reception area, covering the notice board with drops of water and dumping their bags in an untidy heap by the door, they sauntered into the kitchen in search of sustenance.

  Sitting back to front on Liberty’s desk chair, Jinx blew on her mug of scalding hot tea, nibbled on the corner of a Bourbon Cream biscuit and looked out the window. Listening to her best friend’s side of the conversation with her father, she shook her head and wondered for the thousandth time about Amir’s sanity.

  Until the end of last term, when Amir had chartered the Harrods helicopter, flown to Stagmount, and landed at the school in a towering rage, only to drag his daughter back to Saudi over some perceived transgressions on her part, Jinx had not been able to put her finger on exactly what it was that so bothered her about Liberty’s dad. Now, of course, she knew exactly what it was. Even though she and her dad had occasionally rowed massively, there really was no comparison between Martin Slater and Amir Latiffe. No, the latter could be simply terrifying in his sudden rages, his devotion to his daughter behaving in what he perceived to be the “proper” way and above all his deeply unpredictable behaviour.