Party at Silver Spires (3 page)

As we followed Miss Stevenson downstairs, there seemed to be a different feeling in the air, and I wondered whether the others were getting at all nervous, like I was, about what was in store. Probably not. After all, we were only going to have tea – I mean,
supper
. But for me it was a big event. This was where it all began, my new life. I was going to see those beautiful silver spires in a moment, then sit in the canteen – I mean the dining hall – and be just one little Year Seven amongst all those other girls, from eleven-year-olds like me, right up to sixteen-year-olds. At least there wouldn't be any seventeen and eighteen-year-olds there, because the sixth form part of the school is on different premises.

I swallowed and glanced back upstairs at the sound of a mobile bleeping. Antonia was pulling her phone out of her pocket, and I saw her flip it open in a quick one-handed gesture. Turning back round again, I noticed Mrs. Pridham standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing a half smile, as though she wanted us to hurry up but wasn't exactly cross.

“Sorry we're late!” said Emily, grinning. Then she and Bryony were first to go out of the Forest Ash main entrance and I saw Emily throw her arms up dramatically. “Lovely fresh air!” she said, which made Mrs. Pridham and Matron exchange a smile.

I caught up with Sasha and Izzy and the three of us went out together. The other two were taking turns to guess what we might be having for supper. But I was quiet. Any second now we'd turn the corner…

And when we did, I gasped. “Look!”

The others stopped in their tracks and we all stared up at the tall spires. But a moment later they were rushing off again, chatting away. And then Antonia was right beside me.

“Like…what ees the name for them?
Diamanti
,” she breathed.

“Yes, diamonds,” I whispered. And when I looked at her, I saw that she felt exactly as I did.

Just knowing that made me so happy.

The moment I walked into the dining hall I knew I'd never again call it a canteen by mistake. It was such a grand and elegant room and, as I took my place in the queue, I found myself imagining a time hundreds of years before when it wouldn't have been part of a school. I could just picture all the ladies in their fine dresses and the gentlemen wearing powdered wigs, and it seemed incredible that they'd trodden these same wooden floorboards that I was treading right now.

“Oh great! Lamb balti!” said Sasha reading out from the menu on the blackboard as we shuffled forwards.

I didn't know what to say. Mum never cooked things like lamb balti. I didn't know if I was going to like it.

“And apple flan!” said Emily, eyes gleaming. “Let's hope that's with custard.”

We six sat at an empty table at one end of the room. The next-door table was full of Year Sevens too, but there were girls of all age groups dotted about over the rest of the hall. I heard the name Hazeldean mentioned at the table beside us, and that got us six into a conversation about the different houses. Well, us five. Antonia was with us, but she still wore her closed expression, and I noticed she only took tiny mouthfuls of food.

“I'm glad our house colour is red,” said Emily. “I think red is great, which is lucky for me, as I was born with this mop!”

I liked the way Emily said exactly what she thought, and didn't seem to worry about anything. I wished I could be like that.

“What are the other houses called?” asked Bryony. “I can only remember Hazeldean and Elm-something-or-other.”

“Elmhurst,” I told her, feeling pleased to be able to answer her question. “Then there's Willowhaven, Oakley and Beech House.”

“Oh wow!” said Emily. “Do you know what their colours are?”

Without thinking, I recited them quickly. “Forest Ash is red, Hazeldean's purple, Elmhurst is white, Willowhaven's green, Oakley is yellow and Beech House is blue.”

It was only when I realized everyone was looking at me that I worried in case I'd sounded show-offy. It's just always been easy for me to remember lists of things, especially if I'm really interested in the subject. But the last thing I wanted was for anyone to think I was trying to prove how clever I was.

“Bit of a walking encyclopaedia, aren't you, Nicole?” said Emily. She was grinning, but I still felt uncomfortable.

“I…I can only remember certain things… I mean…not everything…” My eyes happened to meet Antonia's at that moment and she looked away abruptly, which made my stomach tighten. She probably hadn't understood a single word I'd said, as I'd reeled the houses and their colours off in such a gabble. I told myself to speak more slowly in future. And I also reminded myself to
think
before I spoke at all.

You're trying to fit in, remember, Nicole.

I was desperate for someone to change the subject, but when Sasha suddenly looked into the distance, her hand hovering in front of her face with a forkful of food, and said, “I wonder if my mum and dad are missing me…” I forgot all about fitting in, as a little rush of sadness came over me.

My parents have been separated for the last eight months. They used to argue horribly all the time, and it was almost a relief when they split up. We get to see Dad every other weekend now and he phones us at least twice a week. I can tell he's trying to show us that he loves us just as much as ever, even though he's not actually living with us. It's sad without Dad in the house, but at least in one way it's better because there are no more arguments. Unfortunately he and Mum obviously thought I'd want them to be together on the special occasion of dropping me off on my first day here at Silver Spires. And it was true, I did think it was a lovely idea, but I changed my mind roughly halfway through the journey when they started a massive argument about the fact that Dad hadn't cleaned or tidied the car.

Dad said there hadn't been any need to tidy up his cans of paints and his ladders and dust sheets and things that were in the boot, because my two squashy bags easily fitted in. And as for cleaning the car, he said he hadn't had time because he spent every hour trying to earn enough money to pay for Mum and us lot, as well as his own flat. Hearing him sounding so angry had sent me straight back to the time when he lived at home and I used to hear the cross voices coming up through the kitchen ceiling into my room.

I shrank down in the back of the car and Mum spoke in sharp whispers through her teeth, as though that would protect me from the argument. She said it was going to be totally embarrassing arriving at a posh private school in a dirty old Volvo estate and that Dad should have thought about that, and it was typical of him that he hadn't.

The argument kept on coming to an end, or so I thought, but then after a few minutes of silence, or after I'd tried my best to change the conversation, one or other of them would bring it back again with a very final-sounding sentence, as though they were determined to have the last word. It was Dad who managed it. “Well, don't bother to come next time, if you're that ashamed of the car. I'll collect Nicole without you.” I'd felt sorry for Mum at that moment, because she didn't have a car of her own yet, though she kept saying it wouldn't be long till she could afford one.

I remember how we'd turned into the long Silver Spires drive then and found ourselves in a line of the smartest, newest cars I'd ever seen in my life. And Mum hadn't sounded cross then, just really anxious, as she'd pointed out the makes of some of the cars and compared them to our old Volvo.

It had been a relief when my parents had finally gone, because I didn't have to listen to them snapping at each other any more. But in another, bigger way, I'd also felt a heavy sadness weighing me down. I love both my parents and it hurts me when they argue. I'm not going to be seeing them for ages and I didn't like the horrible memory I was left with, that was now running through my head as I sat here in the Silver Spires dining hall, listening to everyone talking around me, and trying to think of the right things to say.

“Well, my parents definitely won't be missing me,” Emily said, bringing me back to the present, and then she craned her neck to see what was happening at the counter where the food was being served. “When do you think we can get pudding?”

An older girl from the table behind must have heard her. “You can help yourself whenever you're ready. The puddings are over there, see.”

Emily thanked her and got up with her plate. “Dad'll be getting the cows in so Mum can start on the milking right now. They will have forgotten all about little me!” She laughed and I envied her again for taking everything so casually.

“My parents will probably be watching telly with my brother and sister,” said Izzy. She sighed. “I expect they're feeling a bit funny without me there.”

“Well, my mum will be giving the babies a bath or something,” said Sasha, rolling her eyes.

“Babies? Are they twins?” asked Izzy.

Sasha nodded. “And Dad will be on his computer, working away. He doesn't stop working ever. Not even on Sundays.”

“What's his job?” asked Bryony.

“He's a company director.”

“Oh, snap! My mum's a company director!” said Bryony.

Then a girl from the next table, who must have been tuning into our conversation, suddenly said, “Both my parents are company directors, actually!” She was looking at Bryony as if to say,
So what's the big deal?
And I didn't like the way she'd spoken in a kind of posh drawl, her eyes all cold and clever.

My heart started hammering. Any second now someone would ask about
my
parents' jobs, and how could I admit that Dad's a painter and decorator and Mum works in a supermarket? I looked at Antonia to see if she'd been following the conversation. It would be great if someone thought to ask about her family before they asked about mine. It might turn out that her parents had got such interesting jobs that we wouldn't ever get round to finding out about what my mum and dad did. Or maybe Antonia would have trouble explaining because of her English not being fluent, and we'd take so long trying to understand what she meant that I'd be completely forgotten. I ought to quickly ask her myself, but then if I did that, she might give a one-word answer and ask me straight back.

Quick, change the conversation, Nicole.

But I was too late. Izzy had turned to me.

“What do your parents do, Nicole?”

The girl on the next table had fixed me with her cold gaze. I wished she'd go back to talking to the people on her own table.

“Dad's a…”
I can't say decorator…I just can't say it. Everyone will stare at me. The nasty girl will snigger.
“…a painter.”

It wasn't a lie exactly, but I'd deliberately given completely the wrong impression. I hadn't explained to them that it wasn't pictures he painted, but houses.

“My auntie loves to paint too,” said Izzy. “She's really arty!”

“Can you pass the water, please, Suki?”

And with that, thank goodness, the girl turned back to her own table and picked up the water jug. So now I knew two things for sure – one, that she was called Suki, and two, that I really didn't like her.

“Wh…what do your parents do?” I asked Antonia a bit shakily, to get the attention away from myself. “For their work?” I quickly added, to help her understand.

“Papa has a
ristorante
,” she answered. “A restaurant,” she quickly corrected herself. “We eat good food.”

There was an awkward silence. It sounded as though Antonia was saying that the Silver Spires food
wasn't
good. She'd certainly left quite a lot on her plate, as though she hadn't really liked it. I was surprised, because the lamb balti had turned out to be one of the nicest meals I'd ever tasted, after all my worrying. But I was sure Antonia hadn't meant the words
We eat good food
to come out sounding like she was criticizing the Silver Spires food, and I didn't want the others to think badly of her. I searched around in my mind for something to ask her but, in my hurry, all I could think of was, “Does your dad do takeaways?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. Antonia wore a puzzled frown.

“Does my father take
what
away?” she asked me quietly.

And that's when there came a loud laugh from the next table and I turned to see Suki looking mockingly in our direction. I know Antonia noticed too, because an expression of sadness mixed with confusion came over her face and she immediately looked down and started writing a text on her phone. I felt completely awful in case she thought I'd deliberately said something she wouldn't understand, just to make people laugh.

“Takeaways are disgusting!” Suki drawled. “I don't know why anyone would eat them.”