Page 23 of Save Me
“I’m sorry, I just can’t,” I say quietly.
In a split second, the hope gives way to fury. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Ember…”
“Just admit that you don’t want me at your stupid parties!” she says reproachfully.
I can’t reply. I can’t lie to her, but I want to protect her.
“If you knew what Maxton Hall was really like, you wouldn’t keep asking to come,” I whisper.
“If you ever need anything in the middle of the night again, ask your fancy school friends,” she hisses. Then she pulls the duvet over her head and turns her face to the wall.
I try to ignore the throbbing ache in my chest. In silence, I pick my journal and the statement off her desk, turn off the light, and leave the room.
The next morning, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, and I slap on concealer to hide the bags under my eyes. I couldn’t fall asleep after the row with Ember, and I spent most of the night lying awake. As always, Lin spots right away that something’s wrong, but she assumes it’s still linked to Beaufort and the catastrophe over the weekend, and I’m happy to let her.
After class, I head straight for the library. I’ve got half an hour before our next meeting, and I want to take my books back and get a few out that weren’t available last time.
I love the library more than anywhere else at Maxton Hall, and it’s where I spend most of my time. It has a vaulted ceiling and open galleries, so despite the dark wood of the shelves, it looks inviting, not gloomy. The moment you walk through the door, you can sense the welcoming, productive atmosphere, and it can’t help but boost your mood. Not to mention the staggering array of literature we have access to here. None of the books in Gormsey’s tiny library would have been any help with my personal statement, whereas here, I was overwhelmed by choice when I first started looking.
I’ve spent entire days in my favorite spot by the window, partly because I feel so at home here and partly because you’re not allowed to take the reference books home with you—some of them are over a hundred years old. Sometimes when I’m here, I wish there were more hours in my day. Or that I could stay on longer after school. It’s like a foretaste of what will await me at Oxford.Except that the libraries there are bigger and—according to the website—open round the clock.
It’s nerve-racking to work through the introductory reading list in the course information. A lot of the books are complex, with paragraphs that I have to read several times before I understand them. But that’s fun too, and I’ve got into the habit of making a little booklet on each of them, summarizing the contents and adding my own thoughts and notes.
I’m in luck, and the three books I’m dying to read are on the shelves again. Once I’ve checked them out, I head straight for our meeting room. I’m a bit early, but that gives me time to put the agenda up on the whiteboard and go through my notes. We spent so long rehashing the party on Monday that we’ve got some catching up to do today.
I push the door with one hand, clutching the pile of books to my chest with the other. I put the little stack down on a table. Even before I’ve put down my backpack, I run my fingers over the cover of Arend Lijphart’sPatterns of Democracy.
“You and I have a date this weekend,” I whisper.
Someone snorts quietly.
I whirl around. At the same moment, my bag slips off my arm and crashes to the floor.
James is at the far end of the room, leaning on the windowsill, arms folded over his chest. He raises his eyebrows at me. “That’s kind of sad,” he says.
It takes me a moment to pull myself together. “What is?” I ask, picking up my backpack and setting it on the table beside the books. One of the holes in the bottom has ripped even more in the crash, and I swear to myself. I’ll have to ask Ember if she’ll help me sew it up.
“Wasting your weekends on school shit.” He strolls over. “I can think of better things to do with my time.”
“What are you doing here?” I reply, unimpressed, and ignoring his remark.
“Didn’t you hear Lexie? I have to start taking responsibility and realize that my actions have consequences.” He parrots the head’s words with a mocking smile.
I open my bag and pull out my planner, my pencil case, and my committee folder. “And you suddenly decided to take notice of that, did you?”
I can’t read James’s expression as he stands in front of me. At that moment I have no idea what to make of him.
“It’s not like I have any choice, is it?”
I give him a skeptical glance. “You seemed to have a choice the other day.”
He just shrugs. Presumably, the coach had a go at him for turning up at training. Serves him right.
“I’m here. Just count yourself lucky.” Then he bends down and picks something off the floor—a pen. It must have fallen out of my backpack. James holds it out to me. It’s an almost-friendly gesture, so I clear my throat and try to think of something to say.
“It’s only for a term, James.” It’s the first time I’ve said his first name aloud.
