Save Me: Chapter 8

While Ember reads my personal statement for the Oxford application, I frame her purple name with the gold pen in my calendar. Now Ember looks much more official and solemn about my statement.

»My passionate interest in politics, from the philosophical principles to the economic aspects in practice, makes Philosophy, Politics and Economics the perfect course for me. It connects all the areas that interest me, and I am happy about the opportunity to study the most important issues of today’s society in a depth that only Oxford can offer me,’ my sister reads aloud and then pauses on her back for a moment. She puts her pencil in her mouth and rolls onto her stomach on her bed to look at me.

I hold my breath.

Ember starts to grin. I fish one of her wedge-heeled sandals off the ground and throw it at her.

‘Come on, Ember,’ I whisper. It’s two o’clock in the morning, and we should have been in bed by now. But I worked on my statement until a few minutes ago, and since my sister is nocturnal anyway and often works on her blog until the early hours of the morning, I snuck over to her room and asked her to read it.

‘It’s a bit rambling,’ she replies just as quietly, although I can hardly understand her because of the pen between her lips.

‘That’s the way it should be.’

‘It sounds kind of boastful, too. As if you wanted to brag about your knowledge and all the specialist literature you’ve already read.’

‘That’s the way it should be.’ I get up and go to her bed.

She growls thoughtfully and then circles a few places on the page. ‘I would definitely delete these spots,’ she says and holds it out to me. ‘You don’t have to slime up the university and keep mentioning where you’re applying. They already know that they are Oxford. Even without you saying it twenty times.’

My cheeks are getting hot. ‘That’s right.’ I take the letter and place it on her desk together with my planner. ‘You’re a sweetheart, thank you.’

Ember smiles. ‘No problem. And I already know exactly how you can return the favor.’

That’s how it’s always been between me and Ember. One does something for the other and is then allowed to make a wish that the other does for her, whereupon the other in turn has a favor with her. It’s a kind of barter, a constant back and forth of favors. But if Ember and I are honest, we just enjoy helping each other.

‘Shoot.’

‘You could finally take me to one of your Maxton Hall parties,’ she suggests casually.

I stiffen.

It’s not the first time Ember has asked me to do this, and every time it hurts me anew to have to disappoint her. For it is the only favor that I will never do for her.

I’ll never forget the one parent-teacher day when Mum and Dad came to Maxton Hall to introduce themselves to my teachers and get to know my classmates’ parents. It was terrible. Apart from the fact that the main building is hundreds of years old and the opposite of barrier-free, people’s looks couldn’t have been more derogatory. Mum and Dad had dressed up – but that day I learned that Bell-chic can’t be compared to Maxton Hall chic. While the other parents appeared in costumes and Beaufort suits, my dad was wearing jeans and a jacket. My mum was wearing a dress that was beautiful, but with flour from the bakery still stuck to it, which we only noticed when an elderly lady gave it a disparaging look and then turned around to gossip about it with her acquaintance.

Even today, it breaks my heart when I think of Mum’s pained expression, which she tried to hide behind a fake smile. Or on Dad’s stretched chin when he repeatedly failed with his wheelchair at a doorstep and Mum and I had to help him. The two tried not to show how much they hurt the wrinkled noses and facing backs of the other parents. But they couldn’t fool me.

On that day, I decided that from now on there would be two worlds for me – my family and Maxton Hall – and that I would carefully separate the two. My parents are not part of England’s elite, and that’s a good thing. I never want to put them in a situation where they feel so uncomfortable again. They’ve been through enough after Dad’s boating accident, and the shit that’s happening at Maxton Hall is the last thing they’re supposed to be dealing with.

And the same is true for Ember. My sister is like a firefly – with her dazzling personality and open nature, she always attracts attention. I know exactly what can happen at Maxton Hall, and I’ve seen for myself what the guys there are capable of, because they think they own the world. The stories I’ve listened to in the girls’ toilet over the last two years have partly turned my stomach. That wouldn’t happen to Ember.

I only want the best for my sister. And that definitely doesn’t include my school and its visitors.

‘You know we can’t let people from outside the parties into the parties,’ I answer belatedly.

‘Maisie was at the back-to-school party last weekend,’ Ember replies dryly. ‘She said it was legendary.’

‘Then she snuck in without the security noticing. Besides, I already told you that the party was a total failure.’

Ember frowns. ‘Maisie’s mouth didn’t sound like a failure. Rather the opposite.’

I press my lips tightly together and close my planner.

‘Come on, Ruby! How long will you keep me going? I also promise to behave. Genuine. I’ll pretend to be one of them.’

Your words give me a sting. It hurts that she thinks I don’t want her with me because I’m afraid she might embarrass me. The hopeful look with which she looks at me makes my throat tighten.

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t,’ I say quietly.

From one second to the next, hope is replaced by flashing anger. ‘You’re so stupid, really.’

‘Ember …’

‘Just admit that you don’t want me at your stupid parties!’ she says reproachfully.

I can’t answer. Lying is out of the question, and the truth would hurt her.

‘If you knew what was going on behind the scenes at Maxton Hall, you wouldn’t keep asking me to come with you,’ I whisper.

‘If you need anything in the middle of the night, go to your stupid school friends,’ she hisses. Then she pulls the blanket over her head and turns with her face to the wall.

I try to ignore the painful throbbing that spreads through my chest. Silently, I take my planner and the writing from her desk, turn off the lights and leave the room.

The next day I feel like I’m exhausted and have to use concealer to cover my dark circles. After the argument with Ember, I couldn’t fall asleep and lay awake almost all night. As always, Lin immediately notices that something is wrong, but she thinks that it still has to do with Beaufort and the catastrophe of the weekend, and I leave her believing.

After class, I go straight to the library. I want to use the half hour before the next meeting to bring back books and borrow a few new ones that have not been available the last few times.

The library is the place I like most in Maxton Hall and where I’ve spent most of my time so far. With its vaulted ceiling and open gallery, it does not look gloomy but inviting, despite the shelves made of dark wood. As soon as you step through the door, you can feel that there is a welcome, productive atmosphere here in which you simply have to feel comfortable. Not to mention the incredible selection of literature we have access to here. In the mini-library in Gormsey there is not a single book that would have helped me with my personal statement, while here I was hopelessly overwhelmed at the beginning with the decision of which one I should start with.

I spent whole days in my favorite place by the window, partly because Maxton Hall is the only place where I feel comfortable, and partly because you can’t take the centuries-old books of the reference collection home with you. Sometimes, when I’m here, I wish my day had more hours. Or that I could stay longer than the end of school. For me, it’s like getting a taste of what to expect at Oxford. Except that the libraries there – according to the website – are even larger and better equipped. And be open around the clock.

Working my way through the introductory literature mentioned on the university’s website is nerve-wracking. Many of the books are complicated works, where I only understand paragraphs after reading them several times. But it’s also fun, and I’ve gotten into the habit of creating a small booklet for each book, in which I summarize the content and add my own thoughts and notes.

I’m lucky, and the three books I really want to read are available again. After I have borrowed it, I go directly to our group room. I’m a bit early, but this way I can write the agenda on the whiteboard and sort my notes. Because we discussed the back-to-school party for so long on Monday, we have a lot of catching up to do today.

I open the door with one hand while holding the books pressed against me with the other hand. I place the small pile on a table. Even before I put my backpack down completely, I run my fingers over the cover of Arend Lijphart’s Patterns of Democracy.

‘We’re on a date this weekend,’ I whisper.

Someone lets out a soft snort.

I drive around. At the same moment, my backpack slips off my arm and falls to the ground with a loud rumble.

James leans against the windowsill at the other end of the room, both arms crossed in front of his chest. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s a bit sad,’ he says.

I need a moment to collect myself. ‘What’s sad?’ I ask, picking up my backpack from the floor and placing it on the table next to the books. One of the holes on the bottom is torn open even further on impact, and I curse inside. I’ll have to ask Ember if she can help me sew.

‘That you start the weekend with school stuff.’ He strolls slowly towards me. ‘I would spontaneously think of better things to do.’

‘What are you doing here?’ I reply, unimpressed and without responding to his allusion.

‘Didn’t you listen to Lexington? I have to start taking responsibility and realize that my actions are followed by consequences.’ He repeats the rector’s words with a mocking smile.

I open my backpack and take out my planner, pencil case, and committee folder, one by one. ‘And now you’ve suddenly decided to listen to what he tells you?’

James’ gaze is impenetrable as he comes to a stop in front of me. At this moment, I can’t assess him at all. ‘It’s not like I have a choice, is it?’

I look at him skeptically. ‘The day before yesterday you clearly made a choice.’

He just shrugs his shoulders. Presumably, the coach admonished him after he found out that James was at training. Serves him right.

‘I’m here. Just be happy about it.’ At the same moment, he bends down and picks up something from the floor – a pen. It must have fallen out of my backpack. James holds it out to me. Since this gesture seems almost friendly to me, I clear my throat and look for something I can say to him.

‘The punishment lasts only one term, James,’ I say. It’s the first time I’ve said his first name.

That changes its expression. Suddenly, he doesn’t just seem to see through me anymore – he looks right into me. There is a fire in his gaze that burns into me and sends a shiver over my body. My stomach tingles excitedly. Abruptly, he averts his gaze and turns on his heel to go back to the back. ‘That doesn’t change the fact that I hate this.’

My heart is pounding wildly, and I swallow hard as he sits down on one of the chairs with his arms crossed and looks outside.

I don’t know what he means by ‘this.’ Whether it’s the fact that he’s not allowed to play lacrosse. Or the fact that he has to spend his time here. Or maybe he just means me. But I can live with that.

There is too much at stake for me to let a spoiled rich boy throw me off my game. We both have to go through it now, whether we like it or not, and the sooner we accept that, the easier it will be for us to get through this time.

Without another word, I turn to the whiteboard and write down the agenda for today’s meeting. It makes me jittery not knowing if James is watching me or not, but my pride doesn’t allow me to turn around. Fortunately, the door to the group room opens a little later. ‘I’m sorry, our printer at home was spinning, and I had to go back and print out my statement, but now I have it, and…’ Lin pauses mid-sentence when she spots James.

‘Hey,’ he says.

I wonder if he greets all the people in this world like that. He must also say ‘Hey’ to the lecturers when he is invited to the Oxford interviews.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Lin asks me without taking his eyes off James.

‘To take up his punishment,’ I say truthfully.

James says nothing. Instead, he bends down, opens his bag and takes out a notebook. He puts it on the table in front of him. The book is black and bound in leather, and the curved B is embossed on the cover, which stands for the Beaufort brand. It certainly costs a fortune. We were once in one of the Beaufort stores in London when we were looking for a new suit for Dad. That was a few years ago, when he often had to appear in court because of his accident. I can still remember the four-digit price tags that made sure that we didn’t stay in the store for more than two minutes, but left as inconspicuously as possible.

Next to me, Lin clears his throat. Caught out, I tear my gaze away from James and curse the heat that rises to my cheeks again today. Thankfully, Lin is tactful enough not to comment on it.

‘Here,’ she says and holds out a transparent film with several sheets of paper to me. ‘My statement.’

I fish mine out of the folder and give it to her. ‘Here’s mine. But it’s not perfect yet.’

‘Neither do mine,’ says Lin. ‘That’s why we read it again. Do you think you’ll get to see it tonight?’

‘Absolutely. We can go through them tomorrow in the free hour for math.’ Immediately I take out the golden pen and write down Lin’s statement read and correct in my planner.

‘I’m very honored that my name is there with the Ultra Pen,’ Lin says quietly and grins at me. I return her smile and then write the rest of the agenda on the board as our team gradually arrives. Everyone eyes James cautiously from the side, except for Camille, who greets him with kisses on both cheeks.

After everyone has arrived, we start with the meeting.

‘The most important thing today is actually our second big event of the school year,’ Lin begins, her face lighting up. ‘Halloween.’

Kieran lets out a low, ghostly ‘Uh-huuu,’ and laughter goes through the round.

‘The masked ball was very well received last year,’ Lin continues, opening a slideshow from the previous year on her laptop. She rotates the screen and holds it up so that the others can see the pictures.

‘Can’t we just do the same thing again? I mean, if it was so well received,’ Camille suggests. It would save us a lot of work.’

‘That’s out of the question.’ Lin looks at her in dismay, whereupon Camille just shrugs her shoulders. Meanwhile, I step to the right side of the whiteboard, which is still free, and write Halloween in the middle. Then I draw a circle around the word.

‘We have to agree on a motto today,’ explains Lin. ‘Let’s just brainstorm, right?’

For a short moment it is quiet.

‘I only know what I don’t want,’ Jessalyn finally begins.

‘Out with it. So we can narrow it down,’ I say and indicate to her to get started.

‘I don’t want orange. Black and orange decoration looks like a child’s birthday party, that doesn’t suit Maxton Hall at all.’

I nod and write down stylish decoration in the upper right corner of the whiteboard.

‘How about Black and White?’ suggests Doug. He is the most taciturn member of our team and almost never speaks up, so I am positively surprised by his proposal. I smile at him and turn to the blackboard.

‘Black and White is worn out.’

Suddenly it is as quiet as a mouse in the room.

Slowly I turn around again. James sits leaning back in his chair, his relaxed posture in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that suddenly prevails in the room.

‘Excuse me?’ Lin says what’s on my mind.

‘Black and White is worn out,’ James repeats, just as dry as the first time.

‘I already understood you,’ Lin hisses.

He looks at her with a frown. ‘Then I don’t understand the question.’

‘We’re brainstorming, Beaufort. We throw ideas into the room and write them all down, without comment, in order to come up with the solution through spontaneous ideas,’ I explain as calmly as possible.

‘I know what a brainstorming session is, Bell,’ he replies, pointing to the whiteboard with his chin. ‘And I tell you that it won’t work out that way.’

‘Says the guy who thinks you need strippers to create a good atmosphere,’ Kieran murmurs.

‘I only did that because I knew how lame your party would be.’

Nobody says anything, but I can feel how the mood in the room is getting more and more charged. Except for Camille, everyone stares at James with angry eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care at all. With raised eyebrows, he looks around. ‘Come on. You must have noticed that yourself.’

‘If you really believe that, then you don’t have them all anymore,’ says Kieran, and Jessalyn nods in agreement.

‘Guys,’ I interrupt. I look at them in dismay. ‘Pull yourselves together.’ The corners of James’ mouth twitch suspiciously, and I point the pen in my hand at him like a gun. ‘You don’t have to grin at all. We spent a large part of the holidays planning this party. She wasn’t lame.’

James leans forward on the chair, both arms resting on the table. ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

It feels like a vein on my forehead is starting to throb. ‘Oh, yes?’

He nods.

‘And why, if I may ask?’ asks Lin bittersweetly. I know this tone. It doesn’t bode well and makes me get unpleasant goosebumps.

James raises a hand and counts. ‘The buffet looked cheap. The music sucked. There was no fixed dress code. And the mood came up much too late.’

I can literally feel Lin starting to shake next to me. If we were alone, I would wring James’ neck for his harsh criticism. So much work has gone into this party from everyone in this room, it’s not fair to dismiss it all as a complete failure. Especially since it’s not true. But as a team leader, I have to react reasonably calmly. And there were some points that didn’t go optimally, as we found out on Monday during our follow-up.

‘As for the music, I agree with you,’ I say in a calm voice. ‘She wasn’t perfect. But people danced anyway, so I wouldn’t call it a complete failure.’

‘Because that’s what you do at a party. But the atmosphere was nowhere near as good as it might have been with decent music.’

Three years ago, at my old high school, I attended a seminar on dispute resolution. The course lasted five afternoons and taught us methods for resolving conflicts. I don’t remember everything, but one thing stuck in my mind: that you have to make all parties feel heard and direct the energy that comes from an argument to what matters.

With this resolution in mind, I take a deep breath and then look at James firmly. However, this does not change the fact that we are still in the process of finding a theme for Halloween. I think Doug’s suggestion is really good and will write it down. Just as I will write down all the other suggestions so that in the end we can see what fits best and what doesn’t.’ With these words, I write Black and White on the board. Then I turn around again. ‘Any more suggestions?’

‘Okay, I have an idea,’ Jessalyn interjects, raising her hands as if she had a groundbreaking vision. »Classically chic with a spooky touch. Grave lights, black flowers. A modernized version of the traditional Halloween party.’

I write it down immediately.

‘It’s just as boring.’

‘If you have nothing to contribute, just shut up, Beaufort,’ Lin hisses.

‘A red and black vampire party,’ Kieran suggests.

‘Lame, too,’ James murmurs.

I’ll get through this. I won’t ram a pen into his eye.

‘The main thing that is lame is how you malign our proposals all the time,’ Jessalyn counters. ‘Why don’t you make one yourself for a change instead of exuding your negative energy here?’

James straightens up and looks at his notebook. I doubt that there is even a word in it that has anything to do with planning a Halloween party.

‘My suggestion is a Victorian party. Weston Hall would be perfect for this. You could get original crockery and cutlery from the time, punch bowls, napkins with lace and so on. Preferably in black. The primary sources of light would be candles – as they were back then – which would create a spooky atmosphere. Of course, you would have to be careful not to burn down the school, but with the right fire protection precautions it should be possible. The dress code would be decadent and noble according to the era. And there are tons of games that the Victorians played on Halloween. They could be included in the process.’

After James has finished, the room is very quiet for a moment.

‘That’s . . . a really great idea,’ I say hesitantly.

His eyes sparkle as he looks at me. ‘I thought we were just taking notes and not commenting?’

I avoid his gaze and write the suggestion on the board.

‘I once read that in the nineteenth century they baked cakes for such occasions in which five different objects were hidden,’ says Kieran. ‘Those who had the objects in their cakes were predicted to be very lucky. We could modernize that and give a reward to those who catch one of the pieces.’

‘But then announce it beforehand. Not that anyone chokes,’ Camille replies, wrinkled her nose.

‘What music should we play?’ asks Jessalyn.

‘How about classical music that’s a bit mixed up?’ I suggest.

‘But not your weird classical-electro-dubstep remixes,’ Lin groans.

‘Hey! They’re cool. I can also concentrate well.’ Everyone in the team looks at me skeptically, and looking for help, I turn to Kieran, who shares my taste in music in the vast majority of cases. ‘Come on, Kieran. Tell them.’

‘There are great remixes of Victorian music. I heard a good one from Caplet the other day.’

I smile gratefully and form with my lips ‘Send me the link’.

‘Well, I’d organize an orchestra,’ James interjects. ‘And rehearse a dance for the beginning of the party.’

A murmur of approval goes through the room, which makes me feel a little sick. I can’t dance at all.

‘Okay, when I listen to it, it almost seems like we’ve decided on a topic,’ Lin says, sounding as surprised as I feel at that moment.

She points to the whiteboard. ‘I would still like to do a vote. Which of you is for Black and White?’

No one answers.

‘Who for the classic-chic party?’

Again no reports.

‘What about the wicked vampire party?’

No hands go up.

‘What do you think about a Victorian-style Halloween party?’ I ask, and before I’ve even finished the sentence, four arms have gone up in the air. James looks for a moment as if it would be too stupid for him to get in touch, but in the end he does it anyway.

I did not expect the turn that this meeting has taken. I look at Lin with raised eyebrows. ‘I’d say then we have a motto for this year’s Maxton Hall Halloween.’