The Future King: Logres (26 page)

Gwenhwyfar shoved him. His eyes widened.

‘So now you’re beating me up, too? What happened to Little Miss Pacifist?’

She sent him a sarcastic expression and he retaliated in kind. They
came to the entrance to Badbury, next to the Sixth Form block. This time he
held the door for her.

‘So that music you were playing earlier, what was it?’

‘You mean that music I was trying to play but couldn’t, thanks to
you?’

She doubted she would ever have a civil conversation with him. ‘Yes,’
she retorted flatly. ‘It was pretty good. I didn’t know you could do
sophisticated stuff like that.’

‘Sophisticated stuff?’

‘Yeah, anything other than beating the living daylights out of
people.’

His dark brows knotted. ‘Is that how you see me?’

‘You mean as a thug?’ This time he pushed her. Scowling, Gwenhwyfar
tried to compose herself. She punched him hard on the arm, though doubted his
muscles felt it. ‘You’re not
supposed
to
hit women.’

‘I didn’t hit you,’ he mocked. ‘Besides, women aren’t supposed to hit
men.’

They both stomped up the stairs, wearing down the old carpet even
more.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ said Gwenhwyfar, rubbing her arm. ‘You
know, about the music you were trying to play? What was it?’

‘What’s-his-name. Beethoven. Don’t tell me a rich snob like you hasn’t
heard it.’

‘Of course I’ve heard it, I just couldn’t remember.’ Her cheeks felt
a little rosier than usual. They were in the computer room this week, attempting
to learn French by clicking buttons and playing games. ‘What piece was it?’

‘Moonlight something,’ Lancelot shrugged.

‘Sonata?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, remembering.

‘Could be,’ he grunted.

‘So where did you learn it?’ she pursued, as they queued by their
room.

‘Learn what?’

He had to be doing it to annoy her. ‘The piano!’

‘My mum taught me, all right? It’s not like I do it for fun, or
anything. I do it for the band.’

She gazed at him blankly. ‘The band?’

‘You know, my band? Our band? Tom’s band?’

‘You’re in that?’

‘What?’ Lancelot said, indignant.

‘Nothing.’ She led him into their French room.

‘No, what?’

‘Nothing! I just find it hard to picture you in a band, that’s all.’

‘Why is it so hard to believe?’ he grunted. Violently he pulled out a
chair and let his bag thump onto the floor.

‘What do you play?’

‘What?’

‘In your band, what do you play?’

‘Guitar.’ He was beginning to sound Neolithic again.

‘Not the piano?’

‘No, not the piano.’

‘I thought you played it for the band?’ He grumbled. Gwenhwyfar
smirked. ‘So who sings?’

‘I do,’ was his black response. He turned on the old computer,
waiting for the ancient system to fire up. Gwenhwyfar couldn’t contain her
amusement. ‘Oh,
what
?’

‘Nothing! It’s nothing.’ His aggravated expressions were priceless.
‘So what’s this
band
of yours
called?’

He eyed her suspiciously through his long dark lashes. ‘
The Oxymorons
.’

‘So that would be shortened to
The
Morons
, then?’

The scowl on his face was so exaggerated that she had to turn away
and snigger.

‘Oh, make fun of it if you want to,
Gwenhwyfar
.’

She gasped. ‘Where did you learn my name?’

‘Gavin told me,’ he said with some satisfaction. ‘I actually quite
like it. I think I’ll call you it more often. Gwenhwyfar.’

‘If you do that, I’ll call you
Lancelot
,
and see how you like it,’ she threatened.

‘You’d better not,’ he warned.

Her eyes narrowed to small slits. ‘Oh, I will.’

‘Fine,
Gwenhwyfar
,’ he
hissed.

‘All right then,
Lancelot
,’
she jeered.

The two made a point of turning their heads away; both determined to
ignore the other.

Bedivere came to find them all at lunchtime, his face like thunder. ‘You
know what I just heard?’ he demanded, looming over their table.

‘What?’ Gavin ventured.

‘That someone told Emily I said she was a crap kisser!’ His pupils
danced across the table, accusing each person they fell upon.

‘But you did say that Emily was a crap kisser,’ Lancelot pointed out.

‘It was you, wasn’t it? Oh yes, it sounds like something you’d do,
just to be funny. Well, it isn’t funny, Lance. The whole school’s talking about
it.’ Lancelot opened his mouth to object, but was cut short. ‘Not to mention
the new rumour that’s going around because of you.’

‘What rumour?’ Viola interrupted.

His cheeks reddened. ‘It doesn’t matter
exactly
—’

‘Yeah it does.’ Lancelot sent a pointed expression to Gwenhwyfar.
‘What rumour? We’re probably going to hear it, anyway.’

‘I’m not repeating it!’ Bedivere snapped, distressed. ‘For her to
even know such a thing we’d have to have done more than just kiss, which we
definitely did
not
do.’

Gradually the group began to form their own ideas. Their amusement
just made Bedivere grow hotter. ‘This isn’t funny! One of you told her, so tell
me who, all right?’

‘It wasn’t me,’ snorted Lancelot. Viola shrugged, and Gavin shook his
head.

‘Not me,’ Tom murmured.

‘I don’t know anything about it either,’ Gwenhwyfar lied.

Lancelot offered him a shrug. ‘Looks like it wasn’t anyone.’

‘Sorry Bed,’ Viola started, ‘maybe someone overheard?’

‘You do get eavesdroppers here,’ Gavin tried. Their newest addition
was not satisfied. His poised stance suggested he was thinking of leaving, but
ultimately he pulled out a chair. As he sat his head fell into his hands and he
groaned.

‘People will be talking about this for
weeks
.’

‘Nah,’ Gavin tried, ‘I mean, just get Lance to hit someone. Then
they’ll all be talking about that, instead.’

‘I wish he’d hit whoever did this,’ he muttered. Lancelot leant back
in his chair and propped his foot on his knee.

‘That can be arranged. For a small fee, of course.’

‘Is eternal gratitude small enough?’ he begged.

‘Works for me.’ Lancelot looked at Gwenhwyfar, and her gaze was pulled
to his as if their eyes were opposite ends of two magnets. ‘You’ll have to tell
me who did it first though,’ he added. Suddenly uncomfortable, Gwenhwyfar stood
abruptly and plucked her things off the table.

‘Sorry, I said I’d meet someone for lunch.’

‘Who?’ Viola enquired, her interest peaked.

She glanced briefly at Lancelot. ‘Who do you think?’

‘Arthur?’

Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘I’ll see you in Geography. Bye, everyone.’ She
hurried away, weaving expertly through the crowd.

‘Tell me about it then!’ Viola shouted after her. She turned and
offered them one last wave, trying not to feel too guilty about telling on
Bedivere.

Gwenhwyfar hurried to Mr Caledonensis’ classroom, expecting Arthur to
be waiting outside. When she arrived, however, he was nowhere to be seen, and
it wasn’t until she heard voices that she thought to check the room itself.
Feeling as if she were intruding, she knocked softly, pushing on the door the
moment she was beckoned in.

‘Ah, Gwenhwyfar!’ Marvin beamed. ‘Arthur told me we were expecting
you. Going on a lunch date, are we? Sounds very nice, though I can’t say the
weather’s good for it.’

It was as if she’d just interrupted an important conversation. There
was an atmosphere lingering, a sense that she’d come too early, and that they
both still had things they were burning to say.

‘It is a bit miserable out,’ she agreed, venturing a little further
into the room. ‘Am I interrupting? I can come back later if you like.’

‘No, no, not at all! Arthur was just returning a book I lent him,’
Marvin explained, still holding
The Human
Condition
in his hand. Gwenhwyfar spotted it before he could hide it, the grey
and black cover glaring at her with its large, human eye.

‘Is that it? What is it?’

‘Oh, it’s just something for Politics. It’s not very interesting, is
it, Arthur?’ He stowed it away. ‘I already have another student lined up to
read it.’

‘Is it good?’

‘Good? I’m not sure about
good
.’
Marvin busied himself at his desk. ‘
Useful
,
if you’re interested in that sort of thing. You’re welcome to borrow it, of
course, but it’s quite dull. Very stuffy prose, if you know what I mean.’

‘Boring,’ Arthur corrected, offering a smile.

‘I think I’ll pass,’ Gwenhwyfar said, sensing the hollow gesture in
Marvin’s words. He clapped his hands together.

‘So! Are you two off?’

‘I think so.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Of course.’ He followed her to the door, and soon they were out in
the empty corridor.

‘So… what’s
The Human Condition
really about?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, once Marvin’s room was some way behind them.

‘You saw the cover?’

‘It was hard not to, with him waving it around,’ she teased. Arthur
remained silent. ‘Was I not supposed to?’

‘Not really, no,’ he murmured, ‘and I wouldn’t go telling anyone you
did. He could get into a lot of trouble, Gwen, and so could I. He shouldn’t be
lending me stuff like that, and I shouldn’t be reading it.’

‘Stuff like what?’

‘You know, banned books.’

‘Marvin gives you banned books? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?’

‘Yes. That’s why I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. And I
mean anyone. Not even Viola, because she’ll tell Tom, and Tom can’t keep
anything to himself.’

‘She won’t tell Tom if I ask her not to,’ she started.

‘Yes she will. They’re going out. They’ll tell each other
everything,’ he remarked matter-of-factly. ‘Marvin’s the best teacher in this
school, and I don’t want him getting into trouble because of me.’

Gwenhwyfar felt like he was scolding her for something she hadn’t done.
‘Right, I get it. I won’t tell anyone.’

Her words seemed to appease him. ‘Thank you.’

They walked in silence for a while, until they braved the cold and
found a bench on which they could perch. Huddling in her coat to keep herself
warm, Gwenhwyfar brushed some flyaway hair from her eyes. ‘So what is it about
then? You know, that
book
.’

‘It’s a study on what led to the restriction of human liberties.’

‘Is that the kind of stuff that he gives you to read at that club?’ Arthur
nodded. ‘So then why can’t I read it?’ she challenged.

‘Because you’re not technically a member yet.’ He smiled at her
fondly. ‘Are you cold?’

‘A little.’

Immediately he removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders.
His arm lingered there, and he pulled her closer. ‘Better?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she nodded, extremely pleased with her current
position. ‘What about you, though?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said, as the icy wind blew. ‘I’m fairly warm-blooded.’

‘I wish I was. I’m like a lizard, I need the sun to warm up.’ She
shivered, pressing closer to his side. ‘Are we still on for Saturday?’

‘Of course,’ he responded with amusement. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

‘Just checking. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Me too.’

She thought for a moment, and wondered why he spent so much time
alone. ‘So how was work?’

‘It was OK.’ Gwenhwyfar could feel each breath he took, each word
reverberate in his chest. ‘Someone came in looking for a book no one could
find. That was the highlight.’

‘So it’s just you and your grandmother living together, right?’

‘And Lionel,’ Arthur reminded her.

‘So… is your grandmother quite rich, then?’

‘Not that I know of, why?’

‘Oh, it’s just—I mean… what about bills and stuff?’

He seemed offended. Gwenhwyfar stared at him, sensing she’d said
something wrong. They both frowned.

‘Why do you think I work at the library every evening? I pay the
bills, or contribute to them at least—it’s not like my grandmother’s non-existent
pension could cover it. That ran out years ago.’

She scowled. ‘You mean you pay for everything?’

His arm slipped from her shoulders. ‘Who else?’

‘Everything?’ Gwenhwyfar repeated.