Sophie
get to Evan’s house on Tuesday, I’m too tired to worry about the repercussions of my actions at the pool. To my surprise, he doesn’t even bring it up. Instead, he lets me in, makes coffee and we pretty much get straight to work.
I find myself wondering if he does care about the exam after all. He’s done all the work I set him and has even been revising his notes. I pull out some practice papers for him to work on, and he doesn’t even complain when I do.
He looks through them for a moment and then looks up. “You’re not doing Hamlet for your exam, are you?”
“No,” I answer, a little taken aback by the question. “Our class is doing Othello. Why?”
He gestures at the papers. “These have got all the questions in them. Do you wanna do some Othello questions while I work on Hamlet?”
I frown. Has some form of guilt finally gotten to him?
I’m not sure how to respond, and he adds, “The exam’s tomorrow, and I can pretty much work through these on my own. Why don’t you just work on your stuff while I write, then you can tell me how you think I did at the end?”
It’s more than reasonable, but reason is a little unexpected from him. Still, I haven’t been doing anywhere near as much work on Othello as I should have, and could definitely do with the practice.
“Alright. Let’s do that, then.”
We work in a sort of strangely amicable silence for a long time. After several rounds of extended analysis, we finally stop so that I can have a look at Evan’s work.
He stares at me expectantly as I read through what he’s written. Today, he’s wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt that makes his eyes look lighter than usual. His sandy curls fall over his forehead, the tips hanging over his eyes.
I don’t know how he can’t find it distracting—it’s distracting me just looking at it.
“Well?” he prompts.
“I mean, it’s not exactly profound or even perceptive… but you sound like you at least know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t get it. What are you saying? Is it good or not?”
“Well, it’s good for you. I’m not saying that to be mean. Given where you started, this is decent.”
“Right, right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “But will I pass?”
“Mm…”
I gaze down at his work. Passing is never something I’ve worried about. My parents never set “passing” as a goal for me, it’s always been “excel” and “exceed” with them. I can’t exactly say this to Evan, but I try to give him an honest answer.
“It looks good enough to me, but remember, I’m not a teacher. Really, if you’d done mock papers with Mr Houghton, he would have been able to tell you.”
“What is it with you and Mr Houghton?” he says, taking his work back with a pout. “Why don’t you just marry him, if you’re so horny for him.”
“If only. Unfortunately for me, he’s already married.”
“Hah, I knew you liked your older guys!” he exclaims, staring at me with wide eyes. “I can’t believe I guessed your type. You’re so damn predictable, Sutton.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t like any guy, so there’s no type to guess.”
“Oh?” he props his elbows onto the countertop, lacing his fingers and peering at me over them. “Then who is it you’re meeting in town every Tuesday and Thursday?”
I stare at him in complete shock for a moment, then I burst out laughing.
“You think I’m sneaking off on dates?” The mere prospect brings irresistible laughter out of me. “You really are a complete fucking idiot.”
“Well, you’re always acting so suspicious and shifty, like you’re up to some secret stuff.”
“I am up to some secret stuff,” I tell him. “But it’s definitely not dating. As if I have the time.”
“Then what are you up to?”
I lean forward. “Not for a second would I trust you with that information. You’d run your mouth and get me in trouble.”
He imitates me, leaning further forward so that we are now both half-draped over the kitchen island and whispering for no reason.
“Oh my god. You’re breaking school rules, aren’t you?” His eyes search mine as though he thinks he can somehow see into my mind. “Fuck. Perfect prefect Sutton, breaking the rules?”
“And this is why I’d never tell you. Because you have the mental capacity of a five-year-old and all the self-control of an alcoholic drinking mouthwash at a rehab centre.”
“That’s dark, Sutton, real dark,” he says. “But if you think about it, it would be in your interest to tell me.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well, we have our alliance, and you’re meant to be here with me, so it makes sense if I knew about it. Besides, if you told me what you’re up to, I might even be able to help you.”
Of course, what he’s saying makes sense. Except that this is Evan, and I know all too well how easily he can turn his back on his “allies” when he wants to. Just because I’ve not seen him around school much and I get to see this different side of him here doesn’t mean he’s changed.
I don’t think I even believe that people can change at all.
“Look,” he says with a sigh. “The truth is that Dad went ballistic when he found out I’m failing Literature, and he begged Spearcrest to get me this tutoring. So if he finds out that I’ve been fucking it off, I’d be the first one to get in trouble. It wouldn’t even surprise me if he just yanked me out of Spearcrest, he’s tried before.”
I stare at him in surprise. I didn’t expect this admission from him. I didn’t expect any of this from him at all. He seems so easy-going and happy-go-lucky at all times, so careless of the world around him it’s difficult to imagine him suffering the repercussions of his action.
Evan watches me watching him and slowly shakes his head. “Oh my god. I can hardly believe it. You are seeing some older guy, aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “I got a job, alright?”
Clearly, this is not the scandalous revelation he was expecting. At all.
He blinks, mouth wide open, revealing those obnoxiously white teeth of his. “A job?”
“Yes. What else would it be?”
“I don’t know. Something darker. Something more… deviant.”
“No. That’s just your overactive imagination. I just got a part-time job so I can put some money aside for university next year. That’s it.”
“Oh.”
We sit staring at one another. My heart is too tight in my chest, as if it’s been tightly wrapped in cellophane. I can’t tell whether it’s because I’m nervous that my secret is finally out or because I’m terrified of being betrayed. A bit of both, I suppose.
I know he’s not to be trusted. If this comes back to bite me in the arse, it’ll be completely my fault.
“Why is that even a secret?” he asks finally. “Is it a… dodgy job?”
“Of course not. It’s a job at a café.”
“Oh! Oh… well, what’s the problem then?”
“It’s against the Spearcrest rules, Evan,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at him again. “Not that I would expect you to concern yourself with something so insignificant.”
“Yeah, it’s a rule, but not a rule rule,” he says with a frown. “It’s like the rule about the head boy being allowed to keep a mistress or Friday being the official day for floggings. The kind of old rule nobody gives a shit about.”
“My parents give a shit,” I say, unable to keep the resentment from creeping into my voice.
“Ah, yeah… they work for the school, right?” He taps his index finger to his chin. “Well, I’m sure they’re not going to find out. And now that I know your dirty little secret, Sutton, I can actually help you.”
“No, thanks. I’ve been doing grand without your help.”
I stand off my stool and stretch before packing away my things. I’ve been at Evan’s house for almost three hours now, which feels far too long. He stands up too.
“You don’t always have to be such a strong, independent woman and all that stuff,” he says in a serious tone. “If you need help, sometimes it’s okay to ask.”
“I know it’s okay, and if I do need help, I’ll ask one of my friends,” I tell him with my most polite smile.
It would have been the perfect line to leave on, but unfortunately, I end up sharing the taxi back to Spearcrest with him. I sit tucked against the window, my chin in my hands, watching the dark outlines of the trees and hedges framing the countryside roads.
Outside the window, rain and fallen leaves swirl in the air. Evan doesn’t say anything for a while, then his voice reaches me through the quiet music the taxi driver has got on.
“Are you going back there on Thursday?”
He’s talking in a whisper, which I guess is his way of showing he’s keeping my secret.
I nod. “Yes. Hopefully.”
“Oh.”
He’s silent for a while, and I thought he was done until he spoke again.
“You’re going to be working there Christmas too?”
I sigh. “I don’t know if I can. If I have to stay with my parents, then they’ll definitely suspect something, and I absolutely can’t let them find out.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. We lapse into silence, and the lights and spires of Spearcrest have appeared in the distance by the time he speaks again.
“Do you want to stay over at my place during winter break?”
For a second, I think I’ve misheard him. I turn to look at him. The inside of the car is dark, and there are only distant streetlights to occasionally cast a pale orange light inside. In that dim light, Evan’s face looks perfectly serious.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you want to stay over at my place during winter break? My parents are working over Christmas and my sister is going to New York to stay with her boyfriend, so it’s basically just going to be me. The house is close to town, and you can tell your parents you’re staying with a friend or whatever.”
“Are you serious?”
He stares at me. “Deadly serious. Why the fuck not? It’s a win-win. You can go to work whenever you want, and I get free coffee out of it. Right?”
I don’t say anything. The idea is so wild it doesn’t even feel worth dignifying with a “no”. Except that the more I think about it, the more it feels like it’s not so much wild as too good to be true. It would be perfect.
Except for the living with Evan part.
That would be… no, that would be too weird.
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” I say finally, not quite sure I mean it.
“I dunno, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he says.
I envy how calm and casual he sounds because I am inexplicably and embarrassingly flustered. The taxi is parking up outside the Spearcrest gates, and we thank the driver and get out.
“Well, it was just an idea,” Evan continues, waving the taxi off.
“Sure.”
“Just give it some thought, yeah?” he says. “Might be nice having some company at Christmas, and you wouldn’t have to worry about your parents nagging you.”
We cross the ornate arch of the gateway and stop where the path splits up. The girls’ dormitories are left past the library, and the boys’ dormitories are behind and past the Old Manor, at completely different ends of the campus. I’m not sure what to tell him, so I end up saying, “Alright. I’ll think about it. Goodnight.”
“Alright, Sutton, I’ll see ya.”
He gives me a casual wave and strides off, stuffing his hands into his pocket. A strange impulse of kindness pushes me to call after him. “Good luck with the Lit exam!”
“I don’t need luck!” he calls back. “I wouldn’t dare let you down!”
I don’t respond and hasten away before he can realise I’m smiling.
