Zoe Markham - White Lies

“Yeah, fine thanks.” I was still trying to catch my breath, and made an attempt to cover up the catch in my breathing with a totally unconvincing yawn.

“Excellent!” He grinned. “Well, welcome to the boarding house, Abigail. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here. We’re all the quintessential big happy family. Isn’t that right, Tyler?”

I was expecting yet another eye-roll, but something sad flashed across Tyler’s eyes, just for a second, before he murmured something non-committal in response. Beachball clapped him on the back and took a dig at “the eloquence of youth.”

“Mum and Dad not with you?” he asked, raising himself up on the balls of his feet to look over my shoulder, as if maybe they were standing behind me and were just incredibly small.

“Oh, no. Mum had to rush back,” I told him. “She flies out early tomorrow morning. And Dad’s already out of the country.”

“Ah, now, that sounds very exotic! What is it your parents do? Something much more exciting than teaching by the sound of it!”

I felt a painful tug in my stomach, and there was a split-second delay before I answered. “They’re in the army. Dad’s on deployment in Afghanistan, on his third tour now. Mum’s heading over there for the first time tomorrow.”

“Ah, now, well then.” He looked suddenly uncomfortable, his face glowing even more redly. There was something we had in common, at least. “My word. Not exotic at all. That must be extremely difficult for you, Abigail, having both parents in such… Well, yes, my word…”

There was an awkward pause. I thought it was a bit odd that he hadn’t already known. But with so many kids to look after, I supposed it must have been hard to keep track of everyone.

“And there I was,” he eventually continued, “thinking all our brave young men and women were either home or on their way, not still being shipped out. It just goes to show.”

Everyone always thought that now. That it was all over and done with. That we’d ‘won’. “Most of them are,” I told him. “Dad’s out there working with their police force, and Mum’ll be working with the local army – making sure they’re ready – that they don’t need anyone else. Kind of so that everyone else can come home.”

“Well well…that’s… My goodness. How commendable.”

He looked flustered, and I felt awkward, but help arrived in the form of a crackle from the intercom. Beachball sprang back into cheery mode – looking grateful for the interruption.

“Aha! Let’s see who else is keen to get back!” He rubbed his hands together. “Tyler, perhaps you could show Abigail around? We’ve put her in Scarlett’s dorm. You’ll love our Miss Murphy,” he told me with a wink. “She’s one of the most popular girls in the school; there’s no one here who knows better how hard it can be when you first start boarding, no matter what age you are. She’ll help you find your feet in no time.”

A flash of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on danced across Tyler’s eyes this time, somehow making me feel more nervous than ever as Beachball bounced off to buzz the door open.

“Come on then,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite touch those eyes, before striding off down the corridor towards another set of stairs. I grabbed my case, tried to square my shoulders a little, and followed.

He bounded up three flights before finally stopping beside a door on the top corridor, waiting for me to catch up. It took a while. I tried to console myself with the fact that after a few weeks of this, combined with the walk up that hill to the school every day, I’d be fitter than ever. Not that that would be particularly difficult.

“What?” I panted, when I finally made it. “Never seen a girl with asthma before?” I meant it as a joke, but judging by the look on his face it’d come out wrong. “Don’t they have lifts?” I blundered on. “I mean, with everyone having cases and stuff?”

He shook his head. “No lifts. This building is approximately a million years old.”

“Yeah, but…aren’t there laws, or something?” I leant over slightly, feeling my breath start to settle. “What if you’re disabled?”

He shrugged. “You sleep downstairs.”

He pushed the door open, and then looked back at me. “Are you?” he said.

“Am I what?”

“Disabled?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows at me.

“I just meant, you know, what if.”

“Ah.”

He held the door open, and I shimmied past, face flaming from a mix of exertion and embarrassment. And I found myself in the pinkest room I’d ever seen. I don’t know whether it was the tension of the journey, or the awkwardness of the conversation, or what, but after taking a quick look around I burst out laughing, and once I’d started I couldn’t stop. Initially, Tyler looked at me like I was insane; but when I finally managed to blurt out, “God, my eyes!” he cracked a smile, and eventually started to laugh along with me.

“Got any shades in there?” he asked, nodding towards my case.

I felt some of the tension start to leave my shoulders. Now his eyes were smiling. But he still looked slightly awkward, leaning in the doorway, like his feet were trapped behind some kind of imaginary line.

“Somewhere,” I answered. And then, because the silence that followed went on just that little bit too long, as well as because I was suddenly genuinely curious, I asked, “So…are boys not allowed in the girls’ dorms or something?”

He laughed again, and as he uncrossed his arms and stepped inside I thought maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling tense.

“We’re allowed,” he said, flinging his arms up and giving a little twirl that set me off giggling again. It was a nerves thing. So embarrassing. He nodded across to the only unmade bed of the four – the one directly beneath the window, and I hauled my case over and collapsed onto it. Between the freaky bird and the stair-a-thon I already felt like I needed a couple of hours to recover. And apparently, it showed.

“Need some time to settle in before the grand tour?” he asked.

I glanced around the room again, trying to adjust to the pinkness. Seeing the small bedside table and the individual desk next to it, it hit me suddenly: a stark, visual reminder that I wouldn’t be going home tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or any night for a good few weeks yet. And it really shouldn’t have mattered, because without Mum, Dad or Beth, home was just an empty shell anyway. But still…it got to me. I didn’t want Tyler to see that. I was fifteen, not five – I shouldn’t have been feeling homesick the second I’d walked through the door. Tyler was used to it. They all would be. I’d stick out like a sore thumb if they knew.

“Yeah, I think maybe I’ll get unpacked,” I told him. “Can I come and find you in a bit?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ll probably be down in the common room. It’s just off reception.”

“Thanks.” I smiled up at him. He wasn’t the bag-carrying gentlemanly sort like his dad, but he’d been kind, and friendly, and I was glad he’d been there. He stopped at the door for a second before turning to look back at me.

“About Scarlett,” he said, slowly. Carefully. “She’s…”

And I waited, but the rest of his sentence never came.

“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “I’ll catch you later.”

“OK…” I said, to no one in particular as the door swung shut behind him. “So, that was weird…”

After his footsteps had faded down the corridor, I switched over into snoop mode. The hot pink bed linen must’ve been school issue, because a fresh set sat, gently glowing, at the end of my bed. The curtains and lampshades were the same shocking hue, and two of the three other beds were heaped high with even more violently pink cushions – while the third boasted an enormous, fluffy stuffed pig. It seemed I was well and truly in girly girls’ territory. It wasn’t really my style; but in a way it was kind of a relief, because it was hard to feel threatened by the sort of girl who’d go to bed with a cuddly pig. I’d come up against my fair share of Mean Girls over the years – who hadn’t – but I was pretty sure none of them had been into soft toys.