The Future King: Logres (2 page)

There were so many buildings. At the top of the steps leading to the
dismal block they had just left, there was a smaller building past a courtyard
with benches to the right, a mobile classroom just forward and to their left,
and ahead of them, some way on, a large cafeteria with huge windows and at
least fifty tables. As they hurried along the path, Gwenhwyfar noticed that the
cafeteria was attached to another food hall, which angled to the left. What
looked like a groundskeeper’s hut sat left past some concrete, and then beyond
that there stood a rather out-of-place looking house that seemed as if it were
lived in. Only when they walked past it did Gwenhwyfar realise it was a
nursery, flanked by two concrete tennis courts lined with rusting wire. After a
sharp left over some speed bumps they seemed to suddenly be in a sea of cars
and bikes, all parked outside what had to be the main building, red-brick and
huge, stretching the whole length of the car park, nursery, tennis courts, and
beyond into a giant school field overlooked by a colossal sports hall.

For some reason they weren’t heading for the oldest doors of the
building. Emily was guiding her around the back, past a bike shed and into an
annex, which revealed, through the gap opposite, even more mobile classrooms,
grassy banks and sports-grounds. Left were the girls’ toilets, so they pushed
their way right into the old smelly building. As Emily shook off her umbrella
Gwenhwyfar took a moment to look around, noting the stone floors curved at the
walls, the blue and grey pattern vanishing under cream paint in places, though
most of it was left bare, shielded on occasion by rows of lockers which better
suited the brown and beige palette of the other building. ‘Is this it?’ she
asked.

‘Yep.’ Emily followed her inside. ‘Wormelow. This is the Maths and
Science end of the building. The other end is English, Geography and History.
That’s
where you need to be.’

She was going to get lost, she knew it; how could she not, somewhere
so huge? Before Gwenhwyfar had time to fully absorb all the picture frames on
the wall she was pulled forward by her hand, round a corner, through some doors
and then left down a seemingly never-ending corridor. ‘The other building is
called the Badbury Building. The one next to it is the Art block—the
Sixth Form block. Then there’s the sports hall, but you’ll see that later.
Everyone
has to do P.E. I hate it.’ Her
upturned nose crinkled. ‘It’s
vile
.’

‘Vile’ seemed to be the word of the moment at Logres. Grateful that
she hadn’t been left to fend for herself, Gwenhwyfar listened intently, taking
in every feature worth noting.

‘
This
is the medical room
and reception,’ Emily added, almost bragging, as they passed the doors they had
avoided earlier. ‘And
that’s
the
library. Upstairs is I.T. and Science.’

‘Won’t you be late?’

‘No,’ was the careless answer, ‘and if I am it doesn’t matter, I’ll
just tell them I was showing you around.’ She sent her a brilliantly pink
smile. ‘Oh! And left is the way to the English classrooms. You can use that way
to get to the back of the assembly hall. We’ll have that after lunch.’

There was so much to take in. Once they passed the English corridor,
the building suddenly modernised and they were walking through a white hallway
past a huge trophy cabinet. There were students massing in the lobby,
complaining about the downpour. As they approached yet another pair of double
doors she was shown the main entrance to the assembly hall, empty for the
beginning of the day.

‘We’re nearly there,’ was what she had been waiting to hear, though
now, faced with the prospect of being abandoned by Emily, she wished they
weren’t. The next corridor went on for some way, the end opening out onto the
grassy banks up to the sports field; but near the exit they angled left. There
were stairs at the end of this corridor too, but Emily didn’t divulge where
they led. Some students were already going into their classrooms. Gwenhwyfar’s
heart was pounding. She wanted to drag Emily in with her.

‘Which one is it?’ People were looking at her again. For such a big
school they noticed fresh blood quickly.

‘That one. Come on!’ Emily pulled her into the queue, where Morgan
Faye stood waiting on her own in silence.

‘Thanks for walking me to my lesson,’ said Gwenhwyfar. ‘I’d have
never found it otherwise.’

The queue had nearly dispersed. ‘Don’t mention it,’ Emily replied,
her apple cheeks ripening into a smile. ‘I’d better go, but I’ll see you at
break? We’re all meeting in the canteen. The one closest to the Wormelow
building, not Badbury.’

‘I’ll see you there,’ Gwenhwyfar confirmed. Invaded by the briefest
of hugs, she was left on her own again. Some of the boys in the queue had been
looking at Emily, hoping she’d notice their overly boisterous behaviour, but
their efforts were in vain, as she proceeded down the corridor in her own
little world.

They’d been waiting for nearly ten minutes now, and there was still
no sign of their teacher. The carpets in this room were green, and there were
books piled to the ceiling near the chalkboard. Dust lingered everywhere.

‘You’re new, aren’t you?’

She expected to hear that sentence a hundred times today. Gwenhwyfar
looked up from where she was sitting, on her own at the back of the class, next
to an unfilled seat. The boy looking down at her was handsome, his olive skin
browned by the sun, and he reminded her of the actor that her old best friend
had adored. His confident mouth sat in a long smirk beneath a wide pronounced
nose, and a comb of dark, gelled hair unbalanced his square face.

‘Yes.’ She continued to draw spirals on the small notepad she’d
brought in for lessons.

‘You’re from Wales, right?’ was the next question. A glance to the
front of the class told her that someone else was interested in the answer: a
tall, overly broad-shouldered boy with short mousy hair and a wide, open face.

‘That’s right,’ she responded, daring him to tease her. ‘Who told you
that?’

‘Viola,’ he shrugged. He didn’t seem to think that she might not know
who Viola was. He observed her with narrowed brown eyes. ‘I’m Tom. What’s your
name?’

‘Gwen,’ Gwenhwyfar replied with suspicion.

‘Is that Welsh?’

‘I suppose.’ She looked behind him again. ‘Who’s that?’

As Tom glanced over his shoulder, the other boy turned back to his
desk. ‘Oh, that’s just Gavin. He asked me to come over because he thinks you’re
hot.’

She couldn’t help it. The moment the words left his lips her cheeks
were on fire. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Will you go out with him?’

Gwenhwyfar didn’t know how he’d dared to continue with the glare he
was receiving, and though she wasn’t that insulted by the potential interest,
she was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t from him. ‘No. Definitely not.’

To her horror, Tom announced her decision to the rest of the class.
‘Gavin!’ he hollered, ‘she’s not interested!’

Several eyes were on her now. Laughing as Gavin told him to “sod off”,
Tom returned to his seat where he received a wounded push from his friend. Gwenhwyfar
wondered if Gavin was the same Gavin Miles that Hattie had mentioned, and
thought that he could be the candidate, if he was usually the butt of such
jokes.

She dared another look around the class. Morgan was sitting on her
own working quietly, but occasionally she sneaked a glance at a boy in front of
her, who gazed unaware out of the window, his dark blonde hair highlighted with
gold in the pale light. The boy sitting next to him looked familiar, and
Gwenhwyfar realised that he was in her tutor group. Her eyes turned to the
clock. It was quarter past nine.

The door swung open, and in hurried the teacher who had given her
directions upon her arrival. He stumbled to his desk, letting the sliding books
in his arms collapse there like a house of cards. One fell onto Gavin and Tom’s
table. Immediately it was swiped.

‘Thank you sir, I needed a new one of these.’

‘If I could have that back, Thomas, please,’ he asked with some
exasperation. Tom opened it up and made a big scene in the process. It was a
school planner. The teacher ripped it from his hands.

‘Hey!’ Tom objected. ‘Didn’t your mother tell you not to snatch?’

‘
This
,’ Mr Caledonensis
stressed, ‘is for our new student, Gwenhwyfar Taliesin. Not for sticky-fingered
students such as yourself, Mr Hareton.’

‘Gwenhwyfar—?’ Tom snorted, ‘I thought you said your name was
Gwen?’

‘Gwen’s short for Gwenhwyfar, you idiot,’ she snapped, hating that he
just grinned.

‘Yeah, just like Tom’s short for Thomas,’ Gavin remarked.

‘And Dolf is short for Adolf,’ Mr Caledonensis contributed, waving
the school planner about. ‘I suppose you’ll need an exercise book too,
Miss Taliesin. Well, here you go. You’ll have to buy the textbook. In the
meantime you can share Morgan’s.’

As the books were dumped on her desk, she was pointed in the direction
of Morgan Faye, who seemed irked by the sudden development. Mr Caledonensis
returned to the head of the classroom, with no mention as to why he was late,
and soon the words “Industrial Revolution” were scrawled out before them.
Nervously, Gwenhwyfar gathered her things and hurried to move tables, catching
the eye of the boy by the window. As she sat, she found herself lost in the
warmth of his chocolate-brown eyes.

He had a strong jaw and a pronounced chin, but both sat well
proportioned to an honest face that was defined by a broad, straight nose and
generous, cushioned lips. Though he was fair, she could tell that he tanned
easily, and his smooth skin was softened by a golden undertone. His eyes,
though sunken under thoughtful eyebrows, were bright and quick, and his broad
shoulders angled to a frame that was sturdy and solid.

It was obvious that she was blushing; she knew it. Suddenly lost over
where to look, Gwenhwyfar threw her eyes to the front of the class where Mr
Caledonensis scribbled on the board, seemingly oblivious to the rising noise
levels behind him. She could still feel the boy’s eyes on her. Curiosity pulled
her like a magnet, and she looked at him again. Her heart skipped. This time he
looked away first.

The lesson went quickly and any attempts she made to speak to Morgan
were deflected with curt, one word answers. Mr Caledonensis took points from
the class and added them to the board, listing phrases like:
prosperity and productivity
,
origins of mass production in Great Britain,
and
eventual increase in pollution and
natural resources crisis
. He seemed to cover the government’s role in tackling
climate change uncomfortably, and swiftly moved on, setting them a series of
questions to answer instead. Using the final five minutes of the lesson to
check where she was next, Gwenhwyfar memorised the number of her English classroom
so that she wouldn’t look too lost when navigating the halls. She only just
registered the due homework before the bell sounded and everyone jumped to
their feet. Still shouting over the ruckus, Mr Caledonensis was forced to give
up, and returned muttering to his desk.

‘Sir?’ Letting Morgan Faye go first, Gwenhwyfar picked her way
through the maze of chairs scattered in the aisles. ‘This textbook, can I have
the name? Where do I get it from?’

He perked up immediately and dropped the papers he had been
organising onto his desk. ‘Ah, of course! I’d almost forgotten. It’s quite
simple—it’s called
1750–2050,
An Anthology
. But if you bring in twenty-five new-pounds I can order it for
you through the school. You’d be paying sixty, otherwise.’

‘Can I bring it in next lesson?’

‘Of course,’ he beamed. His sharp grey eyes watched her with interest,
but then darted to the two boys that had been sitting in front of her as they
followed Morgan on her way out. ‘Mr Humphreys!’ he called, staying the boy who
had gazed at her, the one with the chocolate-brown eyes. ‘One moment please,
I’d like a word.’ Mr Caledonensis turned back to Gwenhwyfar. ‘Do you know where
you’re going next?’

‘I think so,’ she responded, self-consciously edging
away.

‘Marvellous. I’ll see you next lesson, then. Don’t be late.’

Gwenhwyfar nodded, offering a small smile to Mr Humphreys on her way
out. Her heart sank at his blank response. Suddenly she was fending for herself
out in the corridor. English. Left. Gwenhwyfar retraced the steps of Emily’s
guided tour, trying not to dwell too much on her latest embarrassment. She was
sure she would have to endure many more.

Arthur Humphreys

‘
You must be Gwenhwyfar
.’

She was hovering by the open door, eyeing the rows of desks in an
effort to decide where she should sit. ‘Gwen.’

Her English teacher offered a kind, full smile. She was of average
height, but tall to Gwenhwyfar, in her mid-forties and had a strong Roman nose.
‘Gwen. You can sit at the back with Hayley. But first let’s get you an exercise
book.’

Gwenhwyfar followed her to the corner of the classroom and waited awkwardly
as the teacher raided the supply cupboard.

‘I’m Ms Appelbauer, by the way.’

‘Ms Appelbauer?’ Gwenhwyfar took the exercise book from her.

‘Appelbauer,’ she repeated, her hazel eyes lit with a quick spark.
‘It usually takes students a while to get it right. Do let me know if you need
anything. I know it can be hard, starting at a new school so late. Where are
you from?’

‘Swansea.’

‘Oh? My grandmother was from Swansea, on my father’s side. I hear
it’s lovely.’

‘It is.’ She smiled politely. Ms Appelbauer gestured to the back of
the class.

‘Like I said, let me know if you need anything. Hayley’s right there,
last row. We’re working on Chaucer today.’

Nodding, Gwenhwyfar found her seat. Ms Appelbauer started the lesson,
and with everyone working in silence, soon she was struggling to catch up.

The moment the bell sounded Gwenhwyfar followed the masses into the
cafeteria, where from the middle of the busy hall she scoured the crowd for
Emily. She spotted Viola first, sitting with Tom and Gavin by the fire escape,
and as Tom pulled Viola into his lap to give her a prolonged kiss she realised
the connection between the two. She felt they suited one another.

‘Gwen! Over here!’

She turned to find Emily, Hattie and Charlotte all huddled around the
corner of a table. They waved, beckoning her forwards like a dog. ‘Come sit!’

She did as she was told. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good!’ Emily said brightly. ‘How was History? Did you meet anyone
nice?’

‘It was all right,’ Gwenhwyfar shrugged, unzipping her bag to forage
for something to eat. ‘I didn’t really meet anyone.’ Their puzzled silence
urged her on. ‘Met this completely weird girl though,’ she blurted. ‘Morgan. I
had to share her book in class, which was stupid. She kept it to herself the
whole time and practically hissed at me when I asked if I could see it.’

All three faces lit up. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Gwenhwyfar confirmed.

‘Morgan’s just weird though, isn’t she? She
never
says hello to us. She’s so up herself.’ Emily was the first
one to spot her. Gwenhwyfar followed her line of sight, and found her sitting amicably
with another girl at the other end of the cafeteria. Her gaze swung towards
Viola’s table again. Gavin still looked uncomfortable as the third wheel.
Gwenhwyfar noticed the boy from her tutor group and History class at a closer
table, and then found herself searching for his friend.

Emily was eying her. ‘What—?’

Quickly she looked away. ‘Nothing. I met Viola’s boyfriend in History.
He was so rude.’

‘Tom?’ Emily looked over, and Viola glanced back. ‘He’s not that bad,
you know.’

‘Yeah. I don’t know what he sees in Viola, though. She’s so
skinny
.’ Hattie sniggered.

The boy twisted in his seat and waved someone his way. It was Humphreys.
He was very tall. He passed unnoticed through the crowd, as she wished she
could do, and sat down with an easy smile.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked.

‘Who?’

‘That!’ She nodded in his direction, reluctant to point.

‘The fat one?’ Emily frowned, perplexed.

‘No! The tall guy who just sat down; over there by the fire
extinguisher.’

‘Oh!’ Emily suddenly sounded rather smug. ‘Why, are you interested?’

‘What? No!’ Gwenhwyfar pulled a face. ‘I was just wondering. He was
sat in front of me in History.’

Emily’s rather annoying expression told Gwenhwyfar she didn’t believe
her. ‘The good-looking one? That’s Arthur.’

‘Arthur?’

‘Yes: Arthur. Arthur Humphreys.’

Gwenhwyfar’s eyes strayed back to where he was sitting, engaged in
what looked to be an intriguing conversation. Her teeth began to worry her lip
again. For Emily, such behaviour was confirmation enough.

‘You do! You
do
like him!’
she gasped, laughing at her newfound discovery. Hattie and Charlotte were
suddenly on the alert, pouncing in towards the table with anticipation.

‘What?’

‘Gwen! Gwen fancies Arthur.’

‘Arthur?’ The two exchanged a glance.

‘I do
not
!’ she insisted
again, wishing that her cheeks, for once, would play on her side.

‘Yes you do, it’s obvious. Look! You’re going all red!’

‘It’s not like we can blame you, he is quite fit,’ Hattie gushed. ‘As
far as I know, he hasn’t got a girlfriend.’

‘We should
totally
set you
up.’ Emily’s words made her shrink even further. ‘It’ll be so cute! Gwen and
Arthur, Arthur and Gwen. It so works.’

Gwenhwyfar was beginning to reconsider her choice of hyena. ‘But
you’re completely missing the point. I don’t fancy him.’

‘How can you not? He’s
gorgeous
.’
Hattie was gazing his way now. ‘Other guys pick on him though. You always see
them pushing him in the corridors.’

‘Maybe you should go out with him then, if you like him.’ Gwenhwyfar found
herself glancing over again.

‘Look! You can’t keep your eyes off him.’ Emily’s glee expanded. ‘We
have
to introduce you. Never know, he
might like girls with funny accents.’

‘And you’re new. That’s a definite advantage. Guys like new girls.’

‘Hattie’s right. You should talk to him. When’s your next History
lesson?’ Emily leant towards Gwenhwyfar as if she was an applicant in an
interview.

‘Thursday, I think.’

‘Thursday. Can you sit next to him?’

‘Not really. I could sit behind him though.’

Emily’s face lit up. ‘If you sit behind him, you can talk to him at
least.’

‘I suppose…’ She glanced over to Arthur. ‘Just don’t tell anyone,
please? I haven’t even spoken to him yet.’

‘No problem.’ Emily sent Gwenhwyfar a wicked grin. ‘At least it’ll
annoy that Morgan girl. She’s so in love with him, it’s
sad
.’

Charlotte gave a harrumph, her eyes drifting over to where Arthur
sat, oblivious to their attention.

Gwenhwyfar was pleased to discover that she was with Charlotte for
next period, and as Maths wasn’t one of her favourite subjects, this stroke of
good luck was all the more welcome. As they made their way up to Wormelow in
silence, however, it became apparent that Charlotte was far less interested in
her than she had been when Emily was around. Not sure what she had done to offend
the hard-faced, orange girl, Gwenhwyfar made one last attempt towards
conversation as the bell marked the beginning of lunch. Barely acknowledged and
hardly answered, she was relieved to find Emily waiting for them in the
corridor.

‘Mr Sloane let us out early,’ Emily said, saving her with an invasive
hug. ‘Hattie’s got hockey, she’ll meet us later.’

Gwenhwyfar’s interest was sparked. ‘Hattie plays hockey?’

‘Yep!’ Emily responded, leading them out of the building. ‘Why? Do you?’

‘I used to play at my old school,’ Gwenhwyfar admitted. ‘I prefer
lacrosse, though.’

‘You play
lacrosse
?’
Charlotte’s words were more a snort than anything else.

‘Yep!’ Gwenhwyfar said, ducking Charlotte’s obvious disdain. ‘Do you
play anything?’

‘No,’ Charlotte sniffed, ‘why would I want to waste my time playing
something stupid like lacrosse?’

‘You can play it here then?’ Gwenhwyfar remarked.

‘The girls don’t even get to play football here,’ Emily divulged. ‘It’s
either netball or rounders. If you want to do anything remotely interesting you’ve
got to do it after school.’

‘I went horse riding a lot, back home,’ Gwenhwyfar told them. ‘Our
school had its own stables.’

‘
No
. Really?’ As Emily
looked to her, Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘You have a horse, then?’

Gwenhwyfar felt her stomach drop. ‘I used to. We had to sell him
before the move. My dad said he’d be happier where he was, in the country.’

‘That must be
horrible
,’
Emily enthused. ‘He was probably right, though. I’m sure your horse is having a
wonderful time where he is. You can always come ride one of mine. We could all
have a sleepover.’ Charlotte didn’t seem too thrilled by the suggestion, but
Emily didn’t notice. ‘It’s been ages since we last did that. When are you
free?’

Inwardly reluctant, Gwenhwyfar was willing to accept for the sake of
forging friendships. ‘Would Friday be all right?’

‘I’ll have to check with my mum,’ Emily said. ‘If she says no I’ll
just ask my dad. He always says yes to everything.’

‘You’re so lucky,’ Charlotte whined. ‘My dad never buys me anything.’

‘It’s just because I’m better at manipulating,’ Emily laughed.

‘Knowing how to manipulate one’s parents is a good skill,’ Gwenhwyfar
agreed. They passed through the sea of cars and bikes, and headed straight for
the cafeteria. ‘That’s how I got Dillon and Llewellyn.’

‘Who?’

‘Dillon, my horse; and Llewellyn, my dog. Though he’s the family dog
now. My dad’s more attached to him than I am.’ Emily seemed to find this funny,
but Charlotte didn’t. Gwenhwyfar decided to try again. ‘So what does your dad
do, Charlotte?’

‘He runs his own company.’

‘Oh really? What sort?’

‘A sales company,’ Charlotte shrugged. ‘His clients are all super
rich. It’s complicated. You probably wouldn’t understand.’

They were in the cafeteria now, surrounded by noise and the smell of
wet coats and umbrellas. Charlotte said something about going to the vending
machine, so Gwenhwyfar queued for lunch with Emily, even though she already had
one packed.

‘What’s her problem?’

‘What? Whose?’

‘Charlotte’s!’ she stressed. ‘She’s been acting weird around me all
morning.’

Emily’s blue eyes cut through the room, seeking their mark. Charlotte
was in a queue as well, trying not to look back. ‘Maybe she’s jealous? You are
new, after all. She probably doesn’t like not being the centre of attention for
once.’ They moved along in the queue.

‘She doesn’t?’

‘It’s the boys,’ uttered Emily. ‘She always flirts with them. She’s
probably annoyed that they’re all ignoring her over you.’

She revealed this information with such conviction that Gwenhwyfar
didn’t think to question it. ‘Really? They are?’

‘Of course!’ her hyena exclaimed. ‘Look!
That
guy has been checking you out since you walked in the room,
and those boys over there can
so not
take
their eyes off you.’ Gwenhwyfar followed Emily’s line of sight, and she was
right, they were all staring. None of them were particularly inspiring, though,
and no sixth-formers looked her way. Most of the boys that did sneak a curious
glance were similar to her fifteen years of age.

‘It’s probably just because I’m new,’ she dismissed, shifting her
eyes away.

‘Probably,’ Emily agreed. They arrived at the opening of the food
hall, where she swiped up a red tray. ‘See anyone you like?’

Her nose scrunched. ‘Not really, you?’

‘
Definitely
not,’ was the
candid response. ‘Though
Charlotte
must like one of them. Maybe that’s why she’s been acting so weird.’

Gwenhwyfar’s attention was snared. Arthur. He was standing at the
other end of the food hall, foraging through the chocolate bars. Her chest
contracted. A second survey of him confirmed that he was certainly handsome.
Unfortunately however, Emily saw him too.