The Future King: Logres (16 page)

Grace didn’t stay for dinner. George drove her home and then came
back just in time for supper
.
Afterwards, he
and Melissa left early to pick Grace up from her friend’s house. Gwenhwyfar
marvelled that her cousin’s brattish tactics had won the day, but her parents
seemed happy to let it pass without comment.

On Sunday evening Gwenhwyfar went with Viola to the cinema, where she
received a full account of the test shoot the day before. Viola went into
detail about everything, from what she’d worn right down to her specific poses
and facial expressions. When Gwenhwyfar tried to mimic them, the interplay
became so absurd that they both fell apart laughing. Afterwards she made Viola
promise to take her to any modelling parties, insisting that she should get
first refusal if Viola was ever given any extra free clothes.

Monday morning was soon upon her again. They were gathered in their
tutor room early, and Bedivere was explaining to them both how Arthur had
apologised over the weekend.

‘Turns out he’s found out all about it, at last,’ he commented,
enjoying his new place at their table. ‘Marvin told him. Annoying, given he
wouldn’t listen to us.’

‘I wonder if he’ll apologise to me?’ Viola mused, her chin propped in
her upturned hand. ‘He had a real go at me when I tried to explain everything
to him.’

‘He did say that he would,’ Bedivere assured her. He turned to
Gwenhwyfar. ‘I also asked him about Morgan. What was it you heard, again?’

‘That he’s going to ask her out,’ Gwenhwyfar said. ‘Though admittedly,
it’s Emily who said it.’ She exchanged a glance with Viola. ‘So what did he
say?’

Bedivere shrugged. ‘Nothing much really, but I definitely got the
feeling that as far as he’s concerned, they’re just friends.’

A few other students were beginning to find their way into the
classroom, Morgan included. She glanced over to their table as she passed, and
seemed to reflect over something, but then she adopted her usual seat and
produced her sketchbook in silence.

‘God, when are they going to call?’

‘Who?’ Bedivere asked.

‘Her agency,’ Gwenhwyfar explained. ‘She had a test shoot on
Saturday.’

‘For a modelling agency,’ Viola interjected. ‘I’m waiting to see the
pictures. They’ll only put me on their books if they like them. They looked all
right when they took them, but you can never tell with that sort of thing.’

‘Still, you said that the photographer seemed really positive,’ Gwenhwyfar
reminded her. She turned to Bedivere. ‘She’s just paranoid.’

Miss Ray strode into the room, keys and papers in one hand, her coffee
and I.D. badge in the other. ‘Gwen?’ she called, setting her things down at her
desk. ‘I’ve just spoken with the principal. I’m afraid that he wants to see you
in his office, before first period.’

She twisted around in her chair. ‘What for?’

‘He didn’t say. It’s all right, you won’t miss the register—I’ll
mark you in as present.’

She didn’t really feel like facing another meeting on her own. It
must have shown, because Viola and Bedivere both looked to her with concern.

‘Do you want one of us to go with you?’ Viola offered.

She doubted that such a prospect was an option. ‘It’s all right. I’ll
see you both at break.’

‘And History,’ Bedivere reminded her. They waved at her as she
slipped into the corridor, and she wondered how well they would get along in
her absence.

‘Miss Taliesin. I’m glad you could join me.’

Reluctant to go into his office, Gwenhwyfar hovered by the door, her
hand squeezing the strap of her rucksack. Eventually she plucked up the courage
to enter, and sat down stiffly. ‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes,’ Dr Ravioli began. ‘First of all, I have spoken to your father.
I would like to assure you that I am looking into the breach in confidentiality
that has occurred at this school. As it is, Mr Caledonensis had already
informed me of the situation. I can assure you that Mr Hall won’t be present
for any of our future meetings.’

Gwenhwyfar nodded, knowing that the damage had already been done. The
principal glanced down to his desk for a moment, fingering the fountain pen
that lay across his papers.

‘I’ve also come to a decision regarding the incident. Now, I want you
to understand that these are just precautions that the school is taking. If you
feel the need to involve the police, you’re free to do so, but I think we both
understand that’s not necessarily the best way to proceed.’

Gwenhwyfar knew he was right, in this case, as far as the particulars
involving the solution went. She also knew that she did not like being told
what to do. ‘Yes, well, I think I’ll be the judge of that.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed.

‘So what’s the verdict? Are they going to be expelled?’

‘Not quite. I’ve decided that three days’ suspension is best.’

‘Suspension?’

‘Unfortunately,
expelling
a
student isn’t so straightforward. There has to be a good reason, prior
concerns, and all four students have merits that make them worthy of a second
chance.’

‘Like what? Rich parents?’ Gwenhwyfar snapped. ‘Hector’s done this
sort of thing before. Why should he get another chance?’

‘You’re lucky that I’ve decided to rule in your favour. Had I simply
taken their word over yours, it would be you and Mr Greenstone-Jones who would be
facing suspension.’ He leant forward, and offered her another one of his
crocodile smiles. ‘I can assure you that I’ve taken none of this lightly.’

‘No?’ she retorted.

His countenance suddenly darkened. ‘No. This will go on their
permanent records.
Which
, might I
add, will be very detrimental to this school’s reputation.’

He looked pointedly at her, as if this was her fault. Brimming with
rage, Gwenhwyfar said nothing.

‘I thought I should inform you of this now so that you know where
Browne, Stone, Mulberry and Rose are, and why they will be absent from school
this week. I have also insisted that they apologise. Is that acceptable to you,
Miss Taliesin?’

Gwenhwyfar never wanted to speak to any of them again. Eventually she
nodded. She felt she could do little else.

‘Very well. Now, it might be a good idea if you get to class.’

The bell rang on cue. Eager to separate herself from his company,
Gwenhwyfar hurried to join the stream of students ambling through the corridors.

She was a little late by the time she made it to Mr Caledonensis’
room. Bedivere and Arthur were both talking as she found her seat, and though Morgan
seemed to be working in her exercise book, she was clearly listening. Only when
Gwenhwyfar sat down did she realise that the other girl was sketching something
in the book margins: a woman in a medieval gown.

Bedivere turned to her immediately. ‘What did Ravioli say?’

‘They’ve all been suspended.’

‘For how long?’

She shrugged, and busied herself with preparing her exercise book.
‘Three days.’

‘You spoke to the principal?’ Arthur interrupted. ‘When?’

‘Just now,’ Gwenhwyfar told him. She sent Bedivere a wry smile. ‘He
said we were lucky that he hadn’t chosen to suspend us, instead.’

‘Why hasn’t he expelled any of them?’ Arthur asked angrily. ‘Did he
tell you that, at least?’

‘Apparently they all have merits that make them deserving of a second
chance,’ Gwenhwyfar repeated, bitterly. ‘Money.’

‘I suppose he can’t really expel a student for a practical joke,’
Bedivere murmured. ‘Even though it got out of hand, are the Furies really
responsible for what Hector did?’

‘Of course they are—they know what he’s like,’ Gwenhwyfar
muttered. ‘And Hector—’

‘I know,’ he added. ‘He should have been kicked out. Actually, I’m
surprised he wasn’t.’

Arthur turned to Gwenhwyfar. ‘There must be a way around this. Can’t
you appeal?’

‘To who? Ravioli—? I’m not sure if I want to. It’s over, and
I’m glad.’

For a while they said nothing. Amongst the racket of the class Morgan’s
pen scribbled noisily across the page. Gwenhwyfar looked to the door to see if
there was any sign of Marvin. Tom was taking full advantage of his absence by
shouting mindlessly and flinging things across the room.

‘So how was the photo shoot on Saturday?’ asked Arthur.

‘Oh! It went really well, actually,’ Gwenhwyfar beamed. ‘We should be
getting the pictures soon.’

Bedivere sat sideways with his arm draped over the back of his chair.
‘When?’

‘By the end of the week, at least,’ Gwenhwyfar guessed. ‘What did you
get up to?’

‘Visited family,’ Bedivere shrugged. ‘My grandparents have just
bought a new shed. It’s more like a log cabin, to be honest.’ There was an
awkward silence. Morgan was still bent low over her exercise book, scratching
long black hair onto her delicate figurine. ‘How was your weekend, Morgan?’

She looked up, surprised to be asked. ‘It was good.’ She coloured,
and looked across to Arthur. ‘We went to an exhibition on the Pre-Raphaelites
in London.’

‘We?’

‘Me and Arthur,’ she added.

Arthur shifted, and offered Bedivere an uncomfortable smile. ‘Yes. It
was good, actually. I was impressed.’

‘I didn’t know you liked art, Art,’ Bedivere teased.

‘You went to London?’ Gwenhwyfar echoed.

Morgan nodded, and looked at her with her big, brown eyes. ‘We went
to see a movie, too. That wasn’t as good though.’ Suddenly she laughed. ‘Arthur
went into the wrong toilets in the cinema. He got chased out by a five year old.’

Arthur fidgeted as Morgan fuelled the fire of her own amusement. For
perhaps the first time in her life, Gwenhwyfar experienced real jealousy, the
kind that burns and nauseates, that causes the heart to twist into a painful
knot; like the wringing out of a wet rag, whose worth is wrung out with its
waters.

She had never been so thrilled to see Mr Caledonensis. The moment he
loped into the room she gave him her full attention. Time seemed sluggish with
two hours to one, but after a long monologue and a lesson filled with chatter,
the clock ticked its final minute.

‘Don’t forget to answer questions four to seven with two paragraphs
each by next lesson!’ Marvin shouted, as the class erupted to its feet. Packing
away as if the room were on fire, Gwenhwyfar hurried to leave, eager to catch
up with Gavin and Tom as Bedivere struggled to match her haste.

‘I’ll see you later!’ she called brightly to Arthur and Morgan, with
a brisk wave over her shoulder. Arthur nodded back with a smile that belied his
confusion, while Morgan ignored her completely, offering Arthur another happy
grin.

‘Why didn’t he tell me?’

They strode down the corridor, their fellow students parting for
Gavin who stalked through the crowd as if it were the Red Sea. Gwenhwyfar
looked to Bedivere apprehensively. ‘Why didn’t he say he was seeing Morgan on
Saturday?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bedivere murmured, as they both struggled to keep up
with Gavin’s giant strides. ‘Maybe he didn’t think it was important?’

‘It was obviously important enough to keep it secret,’ she argued. ‘I
mean, did he mention anything to you?’

Bedivere shook his head. ‘He only mentioned Morgan when I brought her
up. There was nothing about them going to London together.’

‘I thought he came to see you on Saturday?’ she accused.

‘Sunday,’ he corrected.

‘He clearly wasn’t going to say anything if she hadn’t,’ she remarked.
‘I mean, what; now he’s seeing her at the weekends? If they’re just friends,
why not mention it? Why lie?’

Bedivere shrugged.

‘You don’t think he fancies her, do you?’

‘How should I know?’

‘I thought you were his best friend?’

‘He’s with Marvin all the time,’ Bedivere retorted. ‘I’ve barely spoken
to him since the party.’

‘I
told
him she fancies
him,’ Gwenhwyfar declared, angered. ‘Who hangs out with someone who likes them,
if they don’t like them back?’ She wheeled on Gavin. ‘That’s weird, right?’

‘Who’s this?’ Gavin asked with a frown.

‘Arthur,’ Bedivere said, ruefully.

‘It is weird, isn’t it?’ she said again.

Tom was walking on the other side of Gavin, his wide jaw and small
chin set with concern. ‘Has anyone seen Hector?’

‘No,’ Gavin replied stiffly.

‘He was supposed to meet me this morning.’

‘He’s been suspended,’ Gwenhwyfar snapped, still too angry with
Arthur to really be enraged about Hector.

His face contorted. ‘Why? What the hell for?’

‘For trying to
rape
me?’
She couldn’t believe he couldn’t connect the two. Looking across to the
brown-haired teenager, Gwenhwyfar wondered what on earth Viola saw in him. He
turned a light shade of red.