Theodora
how much I try, I can’t fall asleep.
Why would Inessa be avoiding me? At first, there’s no reason I can think of. Inessa’s been my closest, truest friend ever since she transferred to Spearcrest. I did my best to keep her safe from other girls, and she’s the only person I’ve ever fully let in, fully trusted.
But then, the more I think about it, the more reasons I begin to find for her avoiding me.
She might not know my father confiscated my phone and is angry I didn’t message her for so long. She might be upset that I spent more time with my Year 13 friends instead of her when she knows I prefer her company to theirs. She might resent me for not having told her where I was, for being gone so long.
She might even be upset about what happened with my father since the more I think about it, the more certain I am she will know about it through her own father. Inessa returns home to Russia for every single holiday—while she was home and I was gone, her family might have said anything to her.
Does she think that turning my back on my father, my family, means turning my back on her? If she would only speak to me, she would know that’s not the case. I would never turn my back on Inessa, no matter what.
I make the decision that night to confront her the following day, but when I wake up in the morning after a few hours of poor sleep, I change my mind. Inessa probably needs time and space, she doesn’t need to be cornered and questioned.
I remember what Zachary said to me in that little room in Primrose Cottage.
Don’t hate me from afar. Hate me from up close.
For the first time, I understand how he feels. Even if Inessa is angry at me—furious at me—even if she hates me with every fibre of her being—I would still rather she hate me right to my face, hate me from up close, just so I could still be near her.
do for the next two days, even though I should be concentrating on my studies and assignments. When I sit next to Zachary in literature class, his silent, steady presence is a wall of light next to me.
I’m desperately tempted to turn and ask him for advice. I know that no matter what, he would give me good advice. Well thought-out and balanced and kind and reasonable advice.
I sneak him a glance, and he catches me looking. He smiles at me, that beautiful Blackwood smile, bright teeth in that handsome brown face, dimples carving those sharp cheeks. A smile glowing with easy arrogance and shameless adoration. It makes my heart ache, and I drop my gaze quickly.
In the end, since I can’t possibly bring myself to ask him for advice, I turn to the next best thing and go looking for Zahara.
I returned to Spearcrest, a package arrived for me, containing a school uniform in my size, brand-new clothing and pyjamas in shades of cream and white and blue and sage, toiletries, a brand-new bottle of my perfume, and a new phone still in its pristine white box.
There was no sender and no note, but when I started up the phone, two numbers were saved on the brand-new account.
Zachary’s and Zahara’s.
Although I never used Zachary’s, Zahara and I texted almost every day since. So when I messaged her telling her I needed her advice, she replied almost immediately.
Zahara: Come to the creepy fountain by the old greenhouse. I’ll be there.
When I get there, the sun is high in the sky, and dapples of soft sunlight fall on the moss-devoured marble of the fountain. I find Zahara there, sitting on the rim of the fountain in her summer uniform, her hair half-caught in a gold claw, the curls cascading around her slim shoulders. She’s smoking a cigarette and seems to be talking to someone.
I draw closer to the fountain and spot a dark shadow towering amongst the trees.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Hey.”
Iakov in his uniform is always a jarring sight, but it barely looks like a uniform on him anyway. His shirt is untucked, the top buttons undone, and the tattoos covering his arms and chest make him look like a criminal, not a student.
I let my eyes fall scornfully away from him, turning to Zahara.
“Shall I come back later?”
“No, no.” She pats a dry patch of moss next to her on the fountain rim. “We’re just borrowing Fido’s smoking spot for a bit.”
“I can come back later,” I say stiffly. “Once you’re alone.”
She frowns and then looks from me to Iakov. “You don’t want him here?”
“I don’t want whatever I tell you to go straight back to my father, no.” I turn a cold smile to Iakov. “I think enough of my private business has been making its way back to Russia, no?”
“Wouldn’t know.” He shrugs. “Not been back there since October.”
“He’s not going to tell your father anything,” Zahara says. “He would never do that.”
“He spied on you for Zach, didn’t he? What makes you think he wouldn’t spy on me?”
“That’s different,” Zahara says. The frown on her face is both surprised and saddened. “I don’t get it. What are you saying?”
“Ask him,” I say.
Iakov blinks at me slowly. His narrow black eyes give nothing away. His expression remains perfectly neutral. He sucks on his cigarettes and exhales in a thick curl of smoke.
When he finally speaks, his deep voice is calm. “You think I snitched to your papa?”
“What do you mean?” Zahara’s head turns from Iakov to me, lost. “Snitched about what?”
“You know what,” I tell Iakov.
His stare remains blank.
“Zachary and I,” I spit out. “What we did. Your stupid, disgusting, misogynist bet.”
“Ah,” Iakov says. “You two fucked, huh?”
“What?” Zahara’s voice is a scandalised squeak. “You two had sex? When? I mean, thank god, because it was getting exhausting to watch, and—oh, I’m so happy to hear it, not in a creepy way, but because you two are so perfect, but—” She turns back to Iakov. “What bet is she talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know,” I tell Iakov.
“I didn’t.” He gives an indifferent shrug as if he doesn’t care whether I believe him or not. “Zach told me you two hadn’t done anything.” He lets out a growling laugh. “Lying fucker.”
“I would love to believe you, Iakov.” My voice breaks with the truth, with how desperately I do want to believe him. “But if you didn’t know, then how did my name end up on your list?”
His neutral countenance finally breaks. “What list?”
“Your stupid list for your stupid bet!”
“What bet?” Zahara exclaims.
“Him—his friends—the so-called Young Kings. They made this horrible bet at the end of Year 11 to sleep with every girl in our year group. And they put my name on that list after I had—after I slept with Zach.”
Iakov pushes himself off the tree against which he’s been leaning and pulls his cigarette from his lips to speak.
“Nobody gives a fuck about that bet. Nobody. Evan spends every minute obsessing over that prefect of his. Sev is lovesick over his pretty fiancée, can’t talk of anything else. Luca has to leave campus to get laid because every girl here is scared of him. I certainly don’t give a flying fuck about a fucking bet. And Zachary—hah!” He gives a bark of laughter. “He’s only ever loved you—he’s only ever wanted you. He didn’t fuck you for a bet. He fucked you because he worships the ground you walk on. And when he did, he lied about it to me and didn’t say a word to the others. If your name is on that list, it was because Luca is a sadistic piece of shit with a morbid sense of humour, and he was probably just hoping it would fuck with you two.” He crushes the tip of his cigarette, extinguishing it, and sticks it behind his ear. “Sad to see it worked.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and straightens himself. “Zachary fucked you and kept it a secret because he would rather die than ever hurt you. If your cunt of a father found out, it wasn’t because of him. He didn’t tell a soul. Can you say the same?”
And with a rough, harsh laugh, he shakes his head and strides away, disappearing beyond the drooping branches of the willow trees. I stare after him, my heart pounding, my mind a blank.
A gentle touch brings me back into the moment, and I look down to see Zahara’s graceful hand on mine.
“Are you alright?” She’s stubbed out her cigarette too and is biting down into her bottom lip anxiously. “Iakov wouldn’t lie, Theo, and he’s right. Zach would never do anything to hurt you. He’s loved you for so ridiculously long.”
I stare at her, at her lips forming words, her sincere brown eyes, the same rich shade as her brother’s, almost gold. I’m hearing what she’s saying but not registering it.
My mind is too hard at work, my thoughts organising themselves. For the first time in a long while, I have clarity. I work through what I know methodically, without emotion.
“Sit down, Theo, please.” Zahara’s tone is pleading and worried. “You had something you wanted to ask me about—you wanted my advice on something. Why don’t you tell me?”
“It’s alright.” I squeeze her hand and lean down to kiss her cheek. “I know what I have to do.” I pull away from her. “I’m sorry for leaving like this, but this is something I have to deal with now. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”
She nods, and I sense the weight of her concerned stare as I walk away.
Away from the abandoned fountain and back to the sixth form girls’ building to see the one person who’s been avoiding me since I came back.
The one person I trusted enough to tell my secret to.
