Party at Silver Spires (8 page)

On Tuesday after school, everyone from my dorm was going to some club or other and although I hadn't planned on going to one, I didn't want to be on my own, so I thought I might join Bryony and Emily at running club. Being alone would only make my head fill up with sad thoughts, like it had done the night before in bed.

I hadn't been able to sleep for ages because I'd got myself into such a state. My mind had been going over and over conversations and things that had happened since I'd been at Silver Spires, and I'd kept on coming back to my thoughts about being the only girl in my dorm with a scholarship and also that I should swap dorms so Antonia could be happy. Perhaps I ought to go to Mrs. Pridham and ask if there was anyone who wanted to swap with me after half-term? I hated that thought and I actually cried myself to sleep in the end, but they were silent tears so I wouldn't wake the others up.

“Are you going to running club?” I asked Bryony when lessons had finished for the day.

“Yes. Why don't you come too? It'll be good!” she said.

I'd been hoping she'd say something like that and I hurried off to get my stuff from Forest Ash, then joined the others in the changing room.

Two Year Eights were getting changed at the same time as us and started talking about the party on Saturday, which made my stomach churn.

“I think it's going to be even better than last year's, don't you?” said a girl called Zoe. “The Year Tens are in charge of decorating the common room and I heard them talking about an ‘Oscar party' theme.”

“Oh wow, that'd be so cool,” said Zoe's friend, Bec. “I love dressing up. And I think the music will be good too. It's the Year Nines doing that, isn't it?”

My whole stomach seemed to squeeze then, because if it was an Oscar party, I'd just die. I really wouldn't be able to go. It would be practically compulsory to look over-the-top glam for an Oscar party. I could feel my heart banging against my ribs and a part of me was dreading the Year Eight conversation spreading to Emily and Bryony and me, but another part of me was hoping it would, because then at least I'd find out what they were planning on wearing. I looked at them leaning forwards comparing trainers, and realized that there was no way they were about to join in the party conversation. They weren't even listening to what the Year Eights were saying.

“Come on, let's get down to the athletics field,” said Emily, when we were all in our tracksuits. And as we jogged off together, I found myself wondering if I dared to ask them outright what they were going to wear for the party. But in the end I couldn't bring myself to do it, because I kept going back to the obvious fact that even though Emily and Bryony weren't the type to dress up, they were bound to have packed
something
suitable and they'd just get on with it because I was sure that it wouldn't be a big deal to them. I wished now that I'd ignored Antonia and gone ahead and bought that lovely dress I'd tried on – then I wouldn't be getting myself into such a state right now.

On Tuesday evening my worst fears came true, because some Year Elevens came round telling everyone that it was definitely going to be an “Oscar Night” party and there would be “Oscar awards” for the best-dressed girl in each year group. Sasha and Izzy immediately got really excited and started comparing jewellery, and then they asked Antonia to show them hers, and she tipped out necklaces and bracelets and earrings all over her blue duvet till it looked like a sea of sparkling jewels. And I shrivelled a bit more inside.

Emily eyed all the jewellery, then said it wasn't really her thing. My heart sang at the sound of those words, but then Sasha whipped out a tiara from one of her drawers and said, “Wear this, Emily! I'll do your hair for you. You'll look fab!”

I was pinning my hopes on Bryony saying something to make me feel better, and when she announced that she'd only got one pair of earrings I felt my spirits lifting.

“Let's see them,” said Emily, and Bryony took out a huge pair of shiny silver hearts. “Mum got me these for Christmas. She said they'd go well with my short hair. I haven't even got pierced ears – see. They're magnetic.” She put one of them on and looked instantly amazing.

I felt so alone at that moment. Even Bryony, who was really quite a tomboy, was going to be more dressed up than me. If only I was brave enough to ask one of my friends if I could borrow something to wear, or at least borrow some jewellery. But I didn't dare. They'd think I was weird for not having anything suitable of my own.

As soon as no one was paying attention, I slipped out and went down to the internet room. I started to write an angry e-mail to Mum telling her how stupid I felt because she hadn't even thought of getting me something to wear for a posh party. But then I deleted everything I'd written, because it wasn't Mum's fault. She'd probably thought, like I had, that my black trousers and my favourite top would be fine. I tried to write a more newsy e-mail instead, but there was nothing I felt like saying, so instead I went on the Silver Spires website to cheer myself up with some pictures of the glinting spires on the main building. But then I found myself reading the page called
What's Happening This Weekend?
And as soon as I saw the Forest Ash Oscar Party mentioned, I felt more depressed than ever.

The next morning I woke up feeling sick with panic. There was so much talk about the party at break time that I made sure I went into lunch a bit late on my own. As I stood in the queue, I found myself looking around, hoping there wouldn't be places near anyone from Forest Ash. I just wanted to be certain there was no chance I'd get drawn into a conversation about the party. I could see everyone from my dorm except Bryony sitting at the end of a full table.

But then Bryony came up right behind me.

“What's on the menu?” she asked, peering over my shoulder. “Spag bol. Good. I'm starving.”

“There aren't many places left to sit,” I said, thinking that this might be an excuse for Bryony and I to sit on our own. But at that very moment two whole tables of girls got up to go so there was suddenly loads of room, and in the end all six of us were sitting together as usual. And then a few other girls joined us, until there was only one place left.

I noticed Suki was about fourth in the queue to get her meal, and I crossed my fingers under the table that she wouldn't come and join us. Whenever she was around, the conversation always seemed to turn into something or other to do with money and how much she'd got compared to other people. And that kind of conversation was almost as bad as talking about the Forest Ash party.

My eyes kept flitting over to the line and willing one of the girls in front of Suki to come and fill the last place at our table, but it was no good. None of them even glanced in our direction. They just went straight off to the other side of the room. I watched Suki take a look around, her chin held high as it always was, then come marching over to the spare place at our table. It was right opposite me. I sighed a big sigh without letting it show, then concentrated on eating my spaghetti.

“Hello, folks!” she said, as she sat down and began poking at her food with her fork, a disgusted look on her face. “I can't stand spag bol like this,” she said after a moment. Then she looked at Antonia and smiled. “I bet your father wouldn't allow this in his restaurant!”

Antonia's eyes flew open. “Spaghetti ees very popular in Italy,” she said, sounding a bit offended.

“Yes, I know, I'm just saying it's not that great at Silver Spires,” Suki explained.

Antonia didn't reply, so Suki carried on. “We're actually paying for this food, and it's hideous,” she said, twisting spaghetti round her fork, and using her spoon to hold it in place, then putting it in her mouth and grimacing.

Bryony looked cross. “It's not a five-star restaurant, you know, Suki. And anyway
we're
not paying, are we? It's our parents who pay.”

I flinched, and hoped like mad that my friends would remember not to say anything like
Nicole's parents don't have to pay, of course,
but I didn't have to worry, because Suki was carrying on about cooking.

“Does your father do the cooking at home, Antonia? Or do you have a cook?”

“We do not 'ave a cook,” Antonia replied. “Sometimes eet ees Papa, sometimes Mamma, sometimes Nonna, or I…”

Suki must have got bored then, because she interrupted by asking the rest of us if we had cooks.

I waited till I heard Sasha and Izzy say no, then I shook my head. Emily and Bryony weren't paying attention. They'd started their own conversation about Emily's farm in Ireland, and I was wishing I could join in, because it sounded really interesting. But unfortunately they were a bit too far away for that.

“We've mostly got fields for the cows,” Emily was saying. “But Mum's got a massive vegetable garden and a little herb garden. I help her with both of them.”

“I bet the rest of you have gardeners though, don't you?” said Suki.

I looked down.

“We've got a man who helps in the summer,” replied Sasha, “because my parents are always too busy during the week and too tired at the weekends.”

“Same here,” said Izzy.

“What about you, Antonia?” Suki persisted, as my heart raced and my hackles started to rise. Why was she so obsessed with everyone's wealth?

“Our garden in Milan ees too tiny, but there ees someone who – what ees the word? –
maintains
our holiday home and garden.”

Knowing I had to quickly do something to stop Suki turning to me next, I poured myself some water and took a gulp, then pretended it had gone down the wrong way and started coughing.

“Are you all right, Nicole?” asked Izzy, looking concerned. And the others all joined in, checking I was okay. All apart from Suki, who waited till I'd finished coughing then, just when I thought I was safe from her prying eyes, asked me her horrible question. “Have you got a gardener?”

It crossed my mind that I could easily tell a lie, but Suki had made me angry, and that somehow gave me the confidence to speak out, because why should I care what she thought?

“No, we don't,” I said firmly. “In fact we don't have any staff.”

I'd surprised myself with my bravery, and I liked the strong feeling it had given me. It didn't last long though, because Suki came straight back with, “Well that's not true for a start, because I saw you arrive on the first day of term and it was a workman who dropped you off in that old car, wasn't it? I saw that the back was full of paints and ladders and stuff.”

My cheeks felt as though they were on fire and I reached for my water again with a shaky hand. “This spag bol is boiling!” I said, gulping the water and frantically thinking what to say. The others thought my dad was an artist, not a decorator. “It was my dad actually…he's painting the house at the moment, you see…”

The words sounded weak and pathetic even as I spoke them, and Suki looked at me as though I was talking another language. “Your
dad's
painting the house?”

“Hey, have you seen what's for pudding?” said Emily, coming back into our conversation at the perfect moment. “Banoffee pie. My favourite thing. Well, not the
ban
bit, just the
offee
.”

We all laughed.

No, that's not quite true. The others laughed, and I pretended to laugh, and even though I knew I should try to get back that strong feeling I'd had for just a second, I couldn't do it. Inside I was crying.

After school on Friday, I went to the main school library. Apart from our dorm, that has to be my favourite room. It's enormous and it's got a certain smell. I think it might be the librarian's perfume, or the furniture polish that's used on the dark heavy tables, or it might be just the shelves and shelves of lovely books. But whatever it is, I really like it. I could spend hours in there, just looking at book after book, because it's even better than our local library at home. And today it was the only place to be. It stopped my spirits sinking right down to rock bottom at the thought of the next day.