OceanofPDF - Com - Save - Me - Polish - Edition - Mona - Kasten 2

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Original title: Save Me.
Editor: Karolina Wÿsowska

Corrected by Renata Kuk
Composition and folding: Robert Majcher
Cover design: Sandra Taufer, München
Background: © Shutterstock/Shebeko
Copyright © 2018 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Cologne

Copyright © 2019 by Wydawnictwo Jaguar Sp. z oo
ISBN 978-83-7686-770-0
First edition, Jaguar Publishing House, Warsaw 2019
Correspondence address:
Wydawnictwo Jaguar Sp. z o. o. ul.
Ludwika Mierosÿawskiego 11A 01-527
Warszawa
www.wydawnictwo-jaguar.pl
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First edition in e-book version

Jaguar Publishing House, Warsaw 2019
Electronic version: Marcin Kapusta
konwersja.virtualo.pl
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Contents
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For Lucie
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I was the city I never wanted to see, I was the hurricane

I never wanted to be.
GERSEY, ENDLESSNESS
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Ruby
My life is divided into colors:

Green – important!
Turquoise – school.
Pink – Maxton Hall organizing committee.
Purple – family.
Orange – nutrition and sports.
Purple (take photos of Ember's new clothes), green (buy new markers)
and turquoise (after class, ask Mrs. Wakefield about the material for the
math test) have been sorted out today. It's definitely the greatest feeling in
the world: being able to check off another item on your to-do list. Sometimes
I even write down something on it that I have done a long time ago, just so
that I can cross it out with pleasure after a while, but I use a discreet gray
color so as not to be such a total nerd even in my own eyes.
Anyone who looks into my notebook will immediately realize that my

everyday life consists largely of green, turquoise and pink. However, a
week ago, at the beginning of the school year, a new color appeared.
Gold – Oxford.
The first task I wrote down with my new marker was: get a reference
from Mr. Sutton.
I run my fingers over the metallic shimmering letters. Just one more year. Final year at
Maxton Hall School. I can't believe this will finally happen. Maybe in just three hundred and
sixty-five days I'll be sitting in a politics lecture, surrounded by the most intelligent people in
the world.
The very thought gives me a thrill of excitement, because very soon we

will find out whether my greatest dream will come true. If
I will really succeed and I will be able to study. And in Oxford.

No one in my family had ever gone to university, so I understand why my parents just
smiled when I first announced that I wanted to study philosophy, political science and
economics at Oxford. I was seven years old then. But even now, ten years later, not much
has changed except that my goal is getting closer. At your fingertips. It still feels like a
dream that I've even made it this far. I still have the terrifying thought that I will suddenly
wake up and find out that it's all not true, that I still go to my old school in Gormsey, not
Maxton Hall, one of the best private schools in England.
I glance at the clock above the massive wooden classroom door. Three more minutes.
I already finished the tasks we are working on last night, so all I can do is wait for the
lesson to finally end.
I move my leg restlessly and immediately someone discreetly nudges me in the side.
– Ow! – I react instinctively, I want to respond in the same way, but Lin is faster and
dodges. He has incredible reflexes. Probably because he has been practicing fencing
since primary school. In this sport you have to attack as quickly as a cobra.
“Finally calm down,” he replies, without taking his eyes off what he wrote down
cards. - You make me crazy, you are frustating me.
It surprises me. Lin never gets angry. At least he never shows it or admits it. But right
now I really see a hint of concern in her eyes.
– I'm sorry, but I can't control it. – I trace my fingers over the letters again. For the past
two years, I have done everything in my power to keep up with the other students. To be
better and better. To prove to everyone that I have the right to go to Maxton Hall. Now,
when college admissions procedures begin, emotions run high. I can't control them. But it
gives me a little peace of mind to know that Lin feels the same way.
– Have the posters arrived? – he asks. He leans towards me and a lock of straight hair
her black hair falls in front of her face. She brushes it away, irritated.
I shake my head in denial.
- Not yet. They'll probably bring them back this afternoon.

- All right. We'll hang them up tomorrow after biology, right?
I point to the appropriate pink dot in my notebook and Lin nods smugly. I glance at the
clock again. It takes all my strength not to move my leg again. Instead, as discreetly as I
can, I start packing my markers. They all have to have the cap on the same side, so it takes
me a while.
However, I don't hide the gold yet, I just eagerly slide it into the narrow rubber loop of
the notebook. Of course, cap first. This is the only way everything will be fine.
When the bell finally rings, Lin jumps up from her chair faster,
than I thought possible.
I look at her with raised eyebrows.
“Don't look at me like that,” he replies and slings his bag over his shoulder. – You
started it!
I don't answer, I just pack my things with a smile.
We are the first to leave the room. We quickly cross the west wing of Maxton Hall and
turn left at the next fork.
During the first weeks of school, I kept getting lost in the huge building and was often late for
classes. I felt really stupid, even though my teachers assured me over and over that most new
students were just as confused as I was in high school. The school resembles a castle: five
floors, southern, western and eastern wings and three additional buildings where classes in
subjects such as music and computer science take place. The maze of corridors and nooks in
which you can get lost, as well as the fact that not every staircase leads to the next floor, can
drive you crazy. At first I was like a child in a fog, but now I know Maxton Hall like the back of my
hand. I'm willing to bet I could walk into Mr. Sutton's office blindfolded.
“I should have asked him for a reference, too,” Lin mutters under her breath as we
wander down the long hallway. The wall on our right is decorated with Venetian masks, an
art project of last year's high school graduates.
I have stopped by them many times and admired the refined details.
- Why? – I ask and make a mental note to remind the janitor to secure the
masks before the back-to-school ball takes place this weekend.
– Because he's liked us since we organized prom last year, and he knows how
committed we are and how hard we work.
And besides, he's young, ambitious, and just out of Oxford himself. Jesus, I'm
mad at myself for not thinking of this myself.
I touch her shoulder.
– But Mrs. Marr also studied at Oxford. Additionally, you may find that a
reference from someone who has slightly more professional experience than Mr.
Sutton makes a better impression.
He looks at me suspiciously. –
Do you regret that you turned to him specifically?
I just shrug in response. At the end of last school year, Mr. Sutton inadvertently
found out how much I wanted to study at Oxford, and he offered to tell me
everything that interested me. Although he chose a different direction than the
one I dreamed of, he still provided a lot of useful information, which I eagerly
absorbed and later carefully wrote down in my notebook.
“No,” I finally answer. – I'm sure he knows what counts in references.
At the end of the corridor, Lin turns left. We arrange a phone call and then
quickly say goodbye. I glance nervously at the clock – three twenty-five – and
quicken my pace. I have an appointment with the teacher at three-thirty and I
don't want to be late at all. I walk briskly past the tall Renaissance windows,
where golden September light floods the corridor, and through a group of students
wearing the same blue uniforms as me.
Nobody notices me. That's how it is at Maxton Hall. Even though we all wear
the same uniforms - blue and green plaid skirts for the girls, beige trousers for the
boys, and tailored navy jackets for all - it's impossible not to notice that I don't
really belong here at all. My peers come to school with elegant designer bags,
while my rotten green backpack is so worn out in places that every day I fear it
will eventually break. I try not to worry about it, just like some people do
they act like the school belongs to them just because they come from wealthy
families. To them I am invisible and I do everything in my power to keep it that
way.
Under no circumstances should you be conspicuous. I've had great success with this so
far.
With my head down, I pass the remaining students and turn right for the last
time. The third door on the left is Mr. Sutton's office.
There is a massive wooden bench against the wall, between two offices.
I look between her and the watch. Two more minutes.
I can't stand it a moment longer. With a decisive gesture, I smooth out my skirt,
straighten my jacket, and check if my tie is in place. And then I go to the door and
knock.
I nic.
With a loud sigh, I sit down on the bench and look around. Maybe he went to
get something to eat. Or for tea. Or for coffee. Which reminds me, I didn't need to
drink it today.
I was upset anyway, but my mother brewed too much and I didn't want to throw
it away. Now my hands are shaking as I check my watch again.
Half past thirteen. Down to the minute.

I look around the corridor again. There's no one in sight. Maybe I knocked too
quietly. Or… Just the thought makes my heart beat faster – maybe I was wrong.
We agreed not for today, but for tomorrow.
I nervously unzip my backpack and take out my notebook. I look inside. No,
everything's fine. The right day and the right time.
I shake my head and zip up my backpack again. I don't usually lose my temper
that easily, but the thought of something going wrong in the admissions process
and me not getting into Oxford makes me panic.
I pull myself together with great difficulty. I make a decision, get up, go to the
door and knock again. This time I hear something. As if something had fallen to
the ground. I gently open the door and look inside.
My heart leaps into my throat.
I heard right.
Mr. Sutton is there.
Except… not alone.
A woman sits on his desk and kisses him passionately, and he stands between
her legs, holding her thighs. After a moment, he pulls her closer to him, to the
edge of the counter. When their lips find each other again, she moans softly into
his mouth, threading her fingers into his dark hair.
I don't know where one ends and the other begins.
I wish I could take my eyes off them.
But I can't, not when he slides his hands further and further under
her skirt, or when I hear his heavy breathing and her soft whisper:
– God, Graham.
When the shock finally wears off a bit, I don't really remember how to walk.
I trip over the threshold and open the door so vigorously that it hits the
wall. Mr. Sutton and the woman pull away abruptly. He turns his head and
sees me in the doorway. I open my mouth to explain myself, but all I can
manage is a dry cough.
“Ruby,” Mr. Sutton says breathlessly. His hair is disheveled, the top buttons
of his shirt are undone, and his face is flushed. He seems alien, nothing like
my teacher.
I feel my cheeks heat up.
- I'm sorry. I thought we agreed...
Then the woman turns around and the rest of the sentence catches in my throat.
I open my mouth wide and a wave of icy cold washes over me. I look at the
girl. Her turquoise eyes are as wide as mine.
She instinctively lowers her eyes, fixes them on her expensive high heels,
slides them to the floor, and then looks helplessly at Mr. Sutton... Or rather
Graham, as she called him a moment ago.
I know her. Specifically, I know her rust-gold, neatly pinned ponytail, which
I always have in front of my nose during history classes.
In lessons with Mr. Sutton.
The girl who just kissed our teacher is Lydia Beaufort.
My head's spinning. Besides, I'm absolutely convinced that the counter is

I'll feel nauseous in a moment.
I look at them and try to erase the last minutes from my memory at all
costs, but it's impossible.
I know it and Mr. Sutton and Lydia know it, I can see it in their shocked
faces. I take a step back and Mr. Sutton holds out his hand and moves
towards me. Once again I trip over the threshold. I regain my balance at
the last moment.
“Ruby…” he starts, but the ringing in my ears gets louder.
I turn on my heel and run away. I hear Mr. Sutton behind me
he repeats my name again, even louder.
But I just run. Farther and farther, just further.
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James
A jackhammer is raging inside my skull.
This is the first thing that hits me when I slowly come back to reality.
The second is the warm naked body next to me.
I discreetly glance to the side, but all I see is a wave of golden hair.
I don't remember leaving Wren's party with anyone. I close my eyes and try
to remember anything else left in my mind, but I only remember disconnected
bits of images. Me, drunk on the table. Wren's loud laugh as I fall and land
on the ground at his feet. Alistair's warning gaze as I dance against his
older sister, pressing my hips against her buttocks.
Oh fuck.
I gently brush the girl's hair away from her face.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
Alistair will kill me.
I sit up abruptly. A sharp pain pierces my skull and my vision goes black
for a moment. Elaine – Alistair's sister – mutters something indistinctly and
rolls over. Meanwhile, I realize that the jackhammer is my cell phone, which
is lying on the table next to the bed and vibrating. I don't pay attention to
her. I'm looking for my clothes.
I find one shoe next to the bed, the other right next to the door, under my
black pants and belt. A shirt lies scattered on a brown leather armchair.
I put it on, go to button it, and then I notice that a few buttons are missing.
I sigh loudly. I wish Alistair would be gone. He better not see the torn shirt
or the red scratches that Elaine's pink fingernails left on my chest.
The phone won't give up. I glance at the screen - my father is calling. Fantastic. It's
two in the afternoon in the middle of the week, I'm afraid my head is going to burst at
any moment, and I almost certainly had sex with Elaine Ellington the night before. The
last thing I need is to talk to my father. I strongly reject the connection.
I would give a fortune for a shower. And clean clothes.

I stealthily leave Wren's guest room and close the door as quietly as I can. I go
down to the ground floor. I see traces of last night everywhere - there are bras and
other items of clothing hanging on the railing, and cups, glasses and plates with
leftovers of food are scattered around the living room. The air still smells of alcohol
and tobacco. It's impossible not to realize that there was a party going on here just a
few hours ago.
I find Cyril and Keshav in the living room. Cyril sits on an elegant white sofa and
Kesh in an armchair by the fireplace. The girl on his lap threads her hands into his long
dark hair and kisses him passionately. These two look like the party is about to start all
over again. When Kesh breaks away from her for a moment and notices me, she
throws her head back and laughs out loud. I give him the middle finger.
The glass doors leading to Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald's garden are open. I go outside
and immediately squint. Even though the sun is not overly intense, I still feel like it is a
blade piercing my brain. I look around carefully. It's worse outside than at home.
I find Wren and Alistair on the sun loungers by the pool. They clasped their hands
behind their heads and hid their faces behind sunglasses. I hesitate only for a moment,
then slowly walk towards them.
“Beaufort,” Wren says cheerfully and pushes his glasses over his dark curly hair.
He's smiling broadly, but I can still see the tiredness on his dark brown skin. He has a
huge hangover, like me. - Like night?
“I don't really remember,” I say, glancing sideways at Alistair.
“Fuck you, Beaufort,” he mutters, not looking at me. His hair gleams golden in the
midday sun. – I told you to stay away from my sister.
I expected this reaction. I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

– I didn't drag her to bed by force. You act like you don't
she had a mind of her own and couldn't decide for herself who she wanted to sleep with.
Alistair grimaces in disgust and mutters something under his breath.
I hope he will get his act together soon and won't hold a grudge against me forever.
Whatever the case, I can't turn back time. Besides, I really don't feel like explaining
myself to my friends. I do this at home often enough.
“Just don't break her heart,” Alistair finally says and looks at me through the mirror
lenses of his glasses. Even though I can't see his eyes, I guess there's less anger in
them than resignation.
“Elaine has known James since she was five,” Wren notes. - All right
knows what to expect from him.
He is right. Elaine and I both knew what we were getting into. And although I don't
remember much from last night, I still hear her breathless whisper in my ears: just once,
James. One, only time.
Alistair doesn't want to admit it, but his sister is actually as much of a party person as
I am.
– If your parents find out about this, they will probably announce yours right away
engagement – says Wren, amused.
I grimace slightly. My parents have long dreamed of me marrying Elaine Ellington...
Or another girl from an equally good family, with equally great wealth. But I'm only
eighteen and I have better things to do than worry about what awaits me after graduation.
Alistair also snorts contemptuously. He doesn't like the prospect of welcoming me

into his family as much as I do.
I place my hand on my chest in a dramatic gesture.
– Jesus, don't you want me as your brother-in-law?
Now he too pushes his glasses over his light curly hair and looks at me with dark
eyes. Slowly, like a predatory cat, it rises from the deckchair. Even though he is slim
and slight, I know exactly how fast and strong he is. I have experienced this myself
many times during training.
His look reveals what he's planning.
“I'm warning you, Alistair,” I mutter and take a step back.
It's faster than you can imagine. Suddenly he's standing right in front of me.
“I warned you too,” he hisses. – Unfortunately, you didn't care about it.
He delivers a solid blow to my chest. I stumble backwards, straight into the pool. The
impact takes my breath away, but at first it doesn't
I know where the surface is and where the bottom is. The water is roaring in my ears
and the headache is getting stronger.
And yet I don't set sail straight away. I let all my muscles relax. I stare at the tiles at
the bottom, even though I can't see them clearly, and count the seconds in my mind. I
close my eyes for a moment. I am surrounded by almost perfect silence. After half a
minute, I'm running out of air and the pressure in my chest is getting stronger. I exhale
one last time, wait a moment, and then...
Alistair jumps into the pool and grabs me. He pulls my head out of the water, and
when I open my eyes and see his terrified look, I laugh and gasp for air at the same
time.
– Beaufort! – he shouts furiously and attacks me.
He punches me in the side - Jesus, he can punch me - and tries to put a nelson on
me. Since he's smaller than me, it's not as easy as he thought. We wrestle for a while
and then I take over. I effortlessly pick it up and throw it as far away from me as
possible.
Wren's laughter rings in my ears as Alistair falls into the water with a loud splash.
He emerges after a moment and looks at me with such fury that I burst out laughing
again. Alistair, like all the Ellingtons, has the face of an angel. Even when he wants to
look menacing, his light brown eyes combined with his golden curls and truly perfect
facial features simply make it impossible for him to do so.
“You're such a dick,” he says and sprays water at me.

I wipe my face with my hand.
– I'm sorry, man.
“Okay,” he says, but continues to spray me with water.
Eventually he stops. I look at him. He shakes his head with a laugh.
And then I know everything is fine between us.
-James? – says a familiar voice.
I turn around abruptly. My twin sister is standing at the edge of the pool, blocking
the sun. She wasn't at the party yesterday and at first I thought she was going to make
a fuss about me and my friends not going to school today. But then I look at her closely
and an icy chill runs through me: she's tense, her arms are hanging helplessly at her
sides. She avoids our gaze, staring at her feet.
I swim as fast as I can to the edge of the pool and step out onto the shore.
It doesn't matter that I'm wet, I grab her shoulders and force her to lift her head
and look at me.
My stomach does somersaults. Her face is red. She cried.
- What is? – I ask and tighten my grip on her shoulders. I want to turn my head away,
but I don't let it. I hold her chin so she doesn't look away.
He has tears in his eyes. Something catches my throat.

“James…” he whispers hoarsely. – But I did it.
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Ruby
“It'll be perfect here,” Ember says and stands between the apple tree and the gorse tree.
There are apples everywhere in our tiny garden that we need to pick. It's true that my
parents have been asking about it for many days, but I only planned apple picking, marked
in purple in the calendar, for Thursday.
I already know that as soon as Ember and I get the baskets home, my parents will start
arguing over which of them will get more fruit. Like every year, mom will want to bake cakes
and pancakes and put them on display at the bakery to try, while dad will come up with
hundreds of jams in the strangest flavor variations. Unfortunately, at the Mexican restaurant
where he works, there is no one willing to try them.
Which means Ember and I will be the guinea pigs again. This has its advantages - we are
delighted when dad comes up with a recipe for a new tortilla, but there are also duds, such
as apple jam with cardamom and chili.
- And now?
Ember strikes a practiced pose. It amazes me every time how naturally she does it. She
stands casually, shaking her head slightly to make her light brown curls fall even more
unruly. When she smiles, her green eyes literally sparkle, and I wonder how she can be so
radiant at such an early hour.
I haven't even had time to comb my hair yet, my fringe is probably sticking out in all
directions. And my eyes, the same color as Ember's, don't sparkle at all. On the contrary,
they are empty and tired, so I blink every now and then, hoping to get rid of the unpleasant
burning sensation.
It's a few minutes after seven in the morning, and I've been up half the night thinking
about what I saw yesterday afternoon. When is the time?
ago Ember came into my room, I thought I had just fallen asleep.
“You look great,” I compliment her. Today she is wearing a dress with a black
round collar and a distinctive blue pattern.
She stole it from her mother and altered it a bit, defining the waist more clearly.
For as long as I can remember, Ember has been overweight and persistently
searches for clothes with a defined waist in her size. Unfortunately, there are few
such creations on the market and he constantly has to improvise. On her thirteenth
birthday, her parents gave her her first sewing machine, and since then she has been
creating outfits that reflect her taste.
She already knows exactly what she does best. He has a fantastic sense of style.
Today, for example, she combined a vintage dress with a denim jacket and white
sneakers with silver trim. She painted them herself, by the way.
A few days ago I saw in a magazine a jacket made of material that looked like a
garbage bag. When I saw it, I grimaced in disgust and quickly turned the page, but
I'm sure this jacket would look like a supermodel on my sister. It's probably a matter
of the self-esteem he exudes, both in front of the camera and in reality.
It wasn't always like this. I remember perfectly well the times when she was
devastated and hid in her room because she was being made fun of at school again.
At the time she seemed fragile and sensitive, but over time she learned to accept
herself and ignore what others said. There is no problem with calling yourself fat.
“It's just like Harry Potter ,” he repeats whenever he surprises someone by using
that term. – Voldemort's name is terrifying only because no one dares to say it. It's
the same with the word "fat", but it's just an adjective, no different from "slim" or
"skinny". It's just a word, and it has no negative connotation at all.
Ember has come a long way and that's one of the reasons why she decided to
start a blog. She wanted to help others who are at the beginning of this journey learn
to accept themselves. And so for over a year she has been announcing to the whole
world that she likes herself the way she is. Her passionate posts on the topic
XXL fashions attracted so many readers that my younger sister became

something of a guru and source of inspiration in these matters.
My parents and I have also learned a lot from her, not least because she
keeps giving us articles on the subject. We are very proud of her achievements.
“I think we've got it,” I say as she changes pose for the third time. Ember
walks over to me and takes the camera out of my hands. He grimaces as he
scrolls through the shots, but when he sees the photo of him looking over his
shoulder, he finally smiles.
- This is it. – He kisses me on the cheek. - Thanks a lot.
We go home together and try not to step on the apples lying there.
– When will the new entry go online? - I'm asking.

– Tomorrow afternoon, I guess. – He glances at me sideways. – Do you
think you'll find time to look at him this evening?
Honestly, not really. Today, after classes, I have to put up posters for a
weekend event and then polish my history paper.
More importantly, I also need to figure out how to get references without
saying a word to Mr. Sutton. Just thinking about yesterday afternoon, thinking
about Lydia Beaufort on his desk, standing between her legs, makes me feel
sick again.
The sounds they made… I try to erase the memory by shaking my head vigorously as
Ember looks at me in amazement.
“I'd love to,” I say hastily and pass her on my way to the living room. I can't
look her in the eye. If she saw the dark circles under mine, she would know
immediately that something was wrong, and the last thing I needed right now
was her questions. Especially since Mr. Sutton's muffled moans are still ringing
in my ears, even though I would give anything not to hear them anymore.
– Good morning, honey. "I flinch when I hear my mother's voice and do my
best to control my expression. To look normal.
Or at least as normal as a person who had caught a classmate in the teacher's
arms the previous day could look.
Mom comes up to me and kisses me on the cheek.
- Everything's all right? You seem tired.
Apparently it leaves a normal facial expression on my face

much to be desired.
“Yeah, I just need some caffeine,” I mutter under my breath and let her direct me to
the table. He pours me coffee and gently strokes my hair, then places a steaming mug
in front of my nose. Ember meanwhile walks over to her dad and shows him the photos
we took that morning.
Dad immediately puts down the newspaper and leans over the display.
He smiles until the little lines at the corners of his mouth deepen.
- Very nice.
– Do you recognize this dress, honey? – asks mom. She leans over him from
back and puts her hand on his shoulder.
Dad picks up the camera and his face becomes serious behind the lenses of his
reading glasses.
– Wait a minute… Isn't this the dress you wore on your tenth wedding anniversary?
– Mom and Ember are of similar size, so at the beginning of her sewing career, Ember
had a lot of clothes at her disposal to experiment with. Initially, my mother suffered
whenever Ember made a mistake and, let's be honest, ruined another dress, but today
that almost doesn't happen anymore. Now she enjoys the wonders my little sister
conjures up from her old dresses and blouses.
– I marked the waist and attached the collar – explains Ember.

He sits down at the table and pours cornflakes into one of the bowls his mother has
placed on it.
A smile appears on his father's face.
“She's really very pretty,” he says and takes his mother's hand. He pulls her
lightly until her face is level with his mouth, and he kisses her gently.
Ember and I exchange meaningful glances. I know he's thinking the same thing as me:
yuck. Our parents are so in love with each other that sometimes it makes you feel sick. But
we bear it with dignity. And whenever I remember what happened to the Lin family, I
appreciate again that they are still close. Although it took a lot for all of us to build such a
strong bond.
– Let me know when the new entry goes online – says mom, sitting next to dad. – I
have to read it right away.
“Sure,” Ember replies with her mouth full.
We have to hurry if we want to catch the school bus, so I understand why he

eats so greedily.
– But will you take a look at it before I publish it? – dad makes sure
looking at me.
Even now, a year later, I remain skeptical of the Ember blog. He approaches
the Internet like a dog to a hedgehog, especially if his own daughter posts her
thoughts and photos there. Ember had to work hard to convince him that an
XXL fashion blog was a good idea.
She approached the Bellbird project - that's the name of her blog - with such
enthusiasm and courage that my dad actually had no choice but to let her do it.
He set one condition: I, as a sensible older sister, must read her entries and
approve the photos before she publishes them, so that no details from our
private life are published online.
There's no need to worry. Ember is very attentive and takes a professional
approach to running her blog. I admire how much she has achieved in a
relatively short time.
- Of course. – I also take a spoonful of cereal and drink it with a large sip of
coffee. Now I'm the one Ember looks at with disgust, but I ignore her look. –
Just a heads up, I'll be back a little later today, so don't be nervous.
– There must be a lot going on at school, right? – asks

mom. Just so you know.
I would love to tell my parents and Ember what happened.
I would feel better. But I can not. My house and Maxton Hall are two different
worlds that have no points of contact. I swore to myself that I would never put
them together. And that's why no one at school knows anything about my
family, and my loved ones have no idea what's going on at Maxton Hall. I set
this boundary on my first day at my new school and it was the best decision I
could have made. I realize that Ember is often irritated by my withdrawal, and
every time I feel guilty when my parents can't quite hide their disappointment
when I only answer questions about school with a curt, "fine."
But home is my oasis of peace. What matters here is family, loyalty, fidelity
and love. Only one thing matters at Maxton Hall: money. I'm afraid I'll destroy
our oasis when I bring things back here from there.
Apart from the fact that I don't care what Mr. Sutton does with Lydia
Beaufort, I would never tell on them. At Maxton Hall, no one knows anything
about me only because I consistently follow the rule I have developed for
myself: under no circumstances should I be conspicuous. For two years, I
have been doing my best to be invisible to most students and sneak through
the corridors unnoticed.
If I told anyone what I saw, especially if I went to the school principal, it
would cause a scandal. I can't risk it, especially now when I'm one step
away from my most important goal.
Lydia Beaufort and her entire family, especially her disgusting brother,
are exactly the type of people I should stay far away from.
The Beauforts run the oldest, most expensive men's fashion department
store in England. They have their influence not only throughout the country,
but also, above all, throughout Maxton Hall. Even our school uniforms were
made according to their design. Oh no. Under no circumstances should I
mess with the Beauforts. I'll just pretend nothing happened.
Finally, I half-smile at my mother and mutter under my breath, “Quite
a lot.” – I realize how unnatural it sounds.
I'm even more grateful that she doesn't dig in and pours my coffee without
a word.
I'm experiencing real horror at school. I try to concentrate on the lessons,
but my thoughts keep wandering elsewhere. During breaks, I'm terrified of
seeing Mr. Sutton or Lydia in the hallway, and I literally run from class to
class. Lin keeps glancing at me suspiciously, and I mentally remind myself
to pull myself together.
The last thing I need are her probing questions that would unfortunately
remain unanswered. Especially since I'm almost 100% sure she wouldn't
listen to my explanation that I got the dates wrong and that's why I haven't
received a reference yet.
After the last lesson, we go to the office together and collect the posters,
which finally arrived yesterday. I would have loved to go straight to the
cafeteria - my stomach was growling so loudly in biology that even the
teacher glanced at me furtively - but Lin thought we could hang a few of
them on the way and save some time.
We start in the auditorium, stick the first poster to a massive column.
After making sure the tape will support his weight, I take a few steps back
and I cross my arms over my chest.

- And what do you think ? – I turn to Lin.
– Perfect. Anyone who enters through the main entrance must notice him. –
He turns to me with a smile. – It turned out really nice, Ruby.
I look at the artistically twisted letters announcing a back-to-school party.
Doug conjured up truly fantastic graphics, the words combined with discreet
gold accents on a silver background look elegant and at the same time very
glamorous, and also modern enough to be suitable for a school party.
Maxton Hall is famous for its legendary parties. In this school we celebrate
everything: the beginning and end of the school year, the anniversary of the
school's founding, Halloween, Christmas, New Year, principal Lexington's
birthday... The budget of the organizing committee is dizzying, but what does
Lexington repeat over and over again, the image that we create successful
events, it is priceless. Because parties at Maxton Hall are only theoretically for
students. First of all, it is about attracting parents, sponsors, politicians and
everyone else with fat wallets who finance our school and with their support
ensure that their children have the best possible start in adult life and easier
admission to Cambridge or Oxford.
When I arrived at Maxton Hall, I had to choose extra-curricular activities and

immediately decided on the organizing committee; I like to plan and organize,
and at the same time I can work behind the scenes without drawing attention
to myself. However, I didn't expect it would bring me so much joy. And even
more so because two years later I would head the committee, together with
Lin. Lin turns to me with a wide smile.
– It's a fantastic feeling that no one can do us this year
command, right?
– Honestly, I wouldn't last another day under
directed by Elaine Ellington. I would punch her in the face, I reply.
Lin laughs quietly.
- I would like to see this.
– And I would like to do it.
Elaine was a terrible leader, bossy, unfair and lazy, but the truth is I would
never raise a hand to her.
Apart from the fact that I despise violence, I would be breaking the rule:
doing everything in my power not to draw attention to myself.
Fortunately, the matter resolved itself. Elaine finished school. Others
were as unenthusiastic about her dictatorial tendencies as we were, and
that only became clear when Lin and I were chosen to succeed her. It
still seems unreal to me.
– Let's hang these two posters and only then we'll go to dinner – I
suggest. Lin nods.
Fortunately, when we finally reach the cafeteria, it is almost empty.
Most students go to afternoon classes or catch the last rays of sunlight
in the school park. Only a few tables are occupied, so we even manage
to get a good seat by the window.
As I carry the tray across the large room, I try not to take my eyes off
the lasagne on the plate. Only when I sat down and put the remaining
posters on the floor behind the chair with my backpack did I allow myself
to look around. Lydia Beaufort is nowhere to be seen. Across from me,
Lin takes out a calendar and stares at it intently as he sips his orange juice.
I see Chinese characters, triangles, circles and other symbols, and once
again I admire her system, so much more impressive than the colors I
use myself. But then I remember that when I asked Lin to explain to me
what the different symbols meant and why she used them, after half an
hour I got lost and gave up.
– We forgot to leave one poster for Principal Lexington's inspection
– he murmurs and tucks a dark strand of hair behind his ear. – We have to do it soon.
“Of course,” I answer with my mouth full. I probably have tomato
sauce on my chin, but I don't care. I'm starving because I haven't eaten
almost anything since yesterday afternoon, except for a handful of
cornflakes.
“I have to help my mother at the mall today,” Lin notes and points to
the Chinese stamp.
Her mother recently opened an art gallery in London, which is doing
quite well, but Lin has to help her there, including during the week.
“If you're in a hurry, I'll hang the remaining posters myself,” I say, but
she shakes her head.
– When we took on this task, we promised ourselves that we would be there

share the work fairly. We either do it together or not at all.
- All right. - I'm smiling.
At the beginning of the school year, I said that I wouldn't mind doing some of
her work from time to time.
I like helping others. Especially friends, because I don't have many of them. I also
know that her home situation is not easy and she often has more on her plate than
she should. Especially since she has to go to school all the time and prepare for
lessons. But Lin is at least as ambitious and stubborn as I am, which is probably
why we get along so well. And yet, the fact that we became friends is actually
bordering on a miracle. When I got to Maxton Hall, she moved in completely
different circles. Then, during her lunch break, she was sitting at the same table
with Elaine Ellington and her friends, and it would never have occurred to me to
talk to her, even though we both worked on the organizing committee and it caught
my eye that she kept her calendar as meticulous as I did. .
And then her father caused a loud scandal and the Wang family lost not only
their money, but also their acquaintances and friends.
Suddenly, Lin was alone during breaks, although I don't know if it was her
friends who didn't want anything to do with her, or whether she was so ashamed
of what had happened that she stayed away from them. I only know what it's like
to suddenly lose friends. The same thing happened to me when I came here from
school in Gormsey. Everything was beyond me: the high expectations, the
extracurricular activities, the fact that the people around me were different. That's
why I wasn't able to keep in touch with my friends from Gormsey at first.
Then they made it clear to me what they thought about it.
In hindsight, I know that real friends don't make fun of someone just because
they study hard. I always laughed off the words "nerdy" and "smart", even though
they didn't make me laugh. I also know that there can be no friendship when the
other person is unable to show understanding in a complicated situation. No one
ever asked me how I was doing or how they could help me. At that time, I was
very saddened by the loss of those friendships, especially since no one at Maxton
Hall wanted anything to do with me, no one noticed me at all. I don't come from a
rich family. Instead of an elegant bag from a well-known brand
I carry a designer backpack that is over six years old, and instead of a shiny new
MacBook, I have a laptop that my parents bought for me at a second-hand store
before the beginning of the school year. On weekends I don't go to parties that
the whole school talks about for the next week; for most students at this school, I
simply don't exist. I'm fine with it now, but for the first few weeks at Maxton Hall I
felt very lonely and isolated. Until I met Lin. We were united not only by
experiences with old friends. Lin is also similar to me, because like me, she
carefully organizes her life and loves manga.
I have no idea if we would have become closer if it weren't for this thing with
her parents. And although sometimes I feel like she misses the days when her
name meant a lot at this school, when she hung out with people like the Ellingtons,
I'm grateful that she's with me now.
– So go to the principal and hang posters in the library and on the way
computer center. I'll take care of the rest, okay? - I propose.
I put my hand out for high five. For a moment, Lin looks like she's going to say
something back, but then she smiles gratefully and gives me a high-five.
- You are an angel.

Someone pulls out the chair next to me and sits down. In a split second, Lin
turns pale as a wall.
I watch with a frown as he looks from me to
the person who occupied the adjacent chair.
I slowly turn around... And look straight into turquoise eyes.
Like everyone else at school, I know those eyes, but I've never seen them so
close before. It is part of a distinctive face with dark eyebrows, defined cheekbones
and arrogantly curved, beautiful lips.
That's James Beaufort sitting next to me.
And he looks at me.

It looks even more dangerous up close than from a distance. He's one of those
people who acts like they own Maxton Hall. This is what it looks like. Confident,
proud attitude. His tie didn't move an inch. Even an average school uniform looks
elegant on him, as if he was born in it. Probably because his mother designed it.
The only thing is that it is not neat
styled, it's red-blonde hair. Unlike his sister's sleek hairstyle, James's hair curls
unruly.
“Hi,” he starts.
Have I heard his voice before? Yes, he had screamed on the field during a
lacrosse game or shouted something drunk at one of the school parties, but
never this close. This "hello" is as friendly as the sparkle in his eyes. As if it
was the most normal thing in the world that he would sit next to me during his
lunch break and start talking to me. And yet we never exchanged a single
word. And keep it up.
I look around carefully and swallow hard. Several heads turn towards us.
It's as if the invisibility hat I've been wearing for two years has slipped a little.
Not good, not good, very bad.

– Listen, Lin, would you mind if I kidnapped your friend for a moment? – he
asks, still not taking his eyes off me.
He looks at me so intensely that it makes me shiver. It takes me a moment to
realize the meaning of his words. I quickly turn my head to Lin and try to
wordlessly let her know that I would mind, but she doesn't look at me at all,
only at James.
“Sure,” he replies hoarsely. – Go.
I grab my backpack from the floor at the last minute, and then James
Beaufort places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the cafeteria door.
I quicken my pace so as not to feel his touch on me, but I still feel as if he
marked me through the fabric of his jacket. He leads me around the grand
staircase in the foyer and stops only at a point where we can no longer be
seen by the students still milling around the cafeteria.
I can guess what he wants. Since he hasn't even looked at me once in the past two years, it
must be about his sister and Mr. Sutton.
Only when I'm sure no one can hear us do I turn to him.
– I think I know what you want.

His lips curve into a slight smile.
– Is that so?
– Listen, Beaufort…
– Unfortunately, I have to interrupt you at this point, Robyn. – He takes a step

towards me. I don't step back, I just look at him with raised eyebrows.
"If I find out you've said a word to anyone, I'll make sure you're expelled from school."
He presses something into my hand. I look down in surprise and stiffen as I realize
what it is.
I'm holding a thick stack of fifty-pound notes.
I swallow hard. I've never held so much money in my life.
I lift my head. James' contemptuous smile says it all. He makes it clear that he
knows how much I could use the money. And it's not the first time he buys someone's
silence. His look and posture are so confident that I suddenly feel furious.
- Are you serious? – I say through my teeth and pick up the wad of money.
I'm so angry that my hands are shaking.
He gets serious, he thinks. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket,
he takes out a second wad of bills and hands it to me.
– You can't count on more than ten thousand.
I can't believe my ears. I look between his face and the money.
– If you keep your mouth shut until the end of the semester, you'll get a second one
so much. If you make it by the end of the school year, four times that amount.
I repeat his words over and over in my head until my blood boils.
How dare he stand there in front of me, pushing ten thousand pounds on me,
trying to buy my silence. As if I wasn't worth anything. As if it was the most normal
thing in the world when a person was born into luxury. Suddenly I realize that it's not
just that I don't like James Beaufort.
I despise him. Him and everything he represents. The way he lives, without thinking,
without taking into account the consequences. If a man's last name is Beaufort, he is
untouchable. No matter what he does, daddy's money will take care of everything.
While I've been fighting for two years to even have a chance at Oxford, for him high
school is all about fun. It's unfair. The more I look at him, the more he pisses me off.
I tighten my fingers on the banknotes. I grit my teeth and slide off the narrow strip
of paper surrounding the money.
James frowns.
– Co…
I boldly raise my hand and throw the bills into the air.
James returns my gaze without blinking, his tension betrayed only by
the twitching muscle in his jaw.
As the bills slowly fall to the floor, I turn on my heel and walk away.
OceanofPDF.com
Ruby
A red-gold ponytail sways before my eyes. I focus all my rage on him. It's all
Lydia's fault. If she hadn't made out with the teacher, I wouldn't have caught them
in the act and complained about me to her little brother. Then I could easily focus
on my lessons and not be outraged that he called me Robyn. Or that I threw ten
thousand pounds in his face.
I hide my face in my hands. I can't believe I actually did that. Of course, I did
the right thing by not accepting the money. But still... Since yesterday afternoon,
I can't stop thinking about the things I could do with this money. For example our
house. Since my father's accident eight years ago, we have been rebuilding it
piece by piece and it is gradually becoming a barrier-free home, but there is still
a lot that can be improved. What's next? Our car barely runs and we're all stuck
with it. Especially dad. With the forty thousand James offered me at the end of
the school year, I could buy a new van.
I shake my head vigorously. No, I would never accept dirty money from the
Beauforts in my life. I won't be bought.
I slide the calendar under my history book and open it discreetly.
I'm ticking off all the items planned for today. And there's only one thing that
stings my eyes: to get Mr. Sutton's reference.
I stare at the letters with clenched teeth. I would love to erase it
them as a proofreader, as does the memory of Mr. Sutton and Lydia Beaufort.
For the first time since the beginning of the lesson, I dare to look ahead, to
look beyond her head. Mr. Sutton is standing at the blackboard. He is wearing a
plaid shirt, a charcoal sweater and glasses, which he always wears during lessons.
The three-day-old stubble is carefully trimmed. There are dimples on his cheeks
that all girls fall in love with.
There's suddenly laughter around me - he said something funny. This

one of the reasons I always liked him.
Now I can't even look at him.
I don't understand it - Mr. Sutton is talented enough to get into Oxford, right
after graduation he goes to one of the best private schools in England, and the
first thing he does is have an affair with a student?
Why for God's sake?
He meets my gaze and his smile fades. Lydia stiffens in front of me. She tenses her
shoulders and neck as if she's trying hard not to turn around.
I lower my head so vigorously over the calendar that my hair falls over my
face in a dark curtain.
I stay in this position until the end of the lesson.
When the bell finally rings, it feels like days have passed instead of ninety
minutes. I'm packing slowly. As if in slow motion, I put the books into my
backpack and arrange them carefully.
Then I close the zipper so slowly that I hear the click of each tooth.
Only when the voices and footsteps of the other students fade away in the
corridor do I stand up. Mr. Sutton absentmindedly puts papers into a cardboard folder.
He seems tense, the humor he demonstrated in class has disappeared without
a trace. The only other person in the room apart from us is Lydia Beaufort. He
constantly looks between Mr. Sutton and me.
My heart leaps into my throat as I shoulder my backpack and walk towards
the cathedral. I stop and clear my throat. Mr. Sutton looks up at me. There is
sadness in his golden-brown eyes. I can almost physically feel his remorse. He
moves like a robot.
– Lydia, will you leave us alone? – he asks, not even looking at her.
– But…
“Please,” he adds quietly and glances at her briefly.
With his lips pressed into a thin line, he nods and turns on his heel. He quietly
closes the classroom door behind him.
Mr. Sutton returns his attention to me. He opens his mouth to say something
say, but I warn him.
“I'm here for an Oxford reference,” I say quickly.
He blinks nervously, clearly confused, and only reacts after a long moment.
– I… of course. – He is chaotically looking for something in the briefcase into

which he has just put the lesson materials. He doesn't find it, so he bends down,
picks up a brown briefcase from the floor and puts it on the desk. He opens it
and looks inside. His hands are shaking, I can see the blush on his cheeks. “Oh,
there's a copy,” he mutters as he finally pulls out a plastic sleeve with a piece of
paper inside. “Actually, I wanted to discuss it with you first, but when…” He
clears his throat. – I already sent it because I didn't know if you would come.
With numb fingers, I grab a thin sheet of paper. I swallow hard.
- Thank you.
He clears his throat again. The situation is getting more and more unpleasant.
– I want you to know that I…
“No,” I say hoarsely. - Please do not.
“Ruby…” Suddenly I see in his eyes not only regret, but something else:
fear. He's afraid of me. Or rather, what I could do, knowing so much about
him and Lydia. – I just…
“No,” I repeat, and this time my voice is more firm.
I spread my hands conciliatoryly. – I'm not going to tell anyone about this.
Really. I... I just want to forget about it.
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. His gaze is filled with
astonishment and doubt.
“It's none of my business,” I emphasize. – It's not anyone's business at all
thing.
There is silence. Mr. Sutton looks at me intensely until I don't know where
to look. As if he was trying to read in my eyes whether I was serious. Finally,
he remarks quietly, "You know I'll
still be your teacher."
Of course I know. And I'm not at all thrilled with the prospect of spending
several hours a week in the same room with Lydia and Mr. Sutton. But all I
could do was go to the principal, and meeting James Beaufort was a taste
of what that conversation might be like. Especially since I truly believe that
Mr. Sutton's private life is his business alone.
– I just want to forget about it – I repeat again.

He exhales loudly.
– And you don't set… any conditions? – Seeing my indignation, he quickly adds:
– Although you're doing great in my classes anyway. You're one of the best
students and you know it. I just thought that…” He sighs desperately, not finishing
the sentence. He is red in the face, he lacks confidence, I can almost see the
despair in his eyes.
Suddenly he seems very young to me, and for the first time I wonder how old he is
he's actually years old. Probably no more than twenty-five.
I try to smile, but it doesn't work very well.
“Listen, I just want to finish school in peace,” I say and slip a copy of the
reference into my backpack. He doesn't answer, so I go to the door. I look over my
shoulder once again. – Please treat me the same way as before.
He looks at me like I'm a ghost, and not a pleasant one at that. I see distrust in
his eyes and I'm not surprised at all.
– Thank you for the reference.
He swallows hard, then nods.
I turn and leave. I close the door behind me and lean against it
back, close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Only after a while I realize that I am not alone. A quiet sound makes me
immediately open my eyes.
Standing across from me is James Beaufort. He crossed his arms over his chest
and put his foot against the wall. He looks at me – gloomier than yesterday, darker.
There is no trace of the knowing smirk with which he offered me the money.
He breaks away from the wall and walks towards me. He walks slowly, almost menacingly.
Time drags on as if everything was happening in slow motion.
My heart is beating faster and faster. This is his kingdom. I feel like an intruder.
He stops right in front of me. He looks at me without words, and for a moment I
forget what breathing actually is. When this ability returns, I realize how fantastic
he smells. Aniseed.
Spicy, dry, but pleasant. I would love to move even closer, but then I remember
who it actually is.
James reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Then I come back to earth. I narrow my eyes and glare at him.
– If you want to offer me money again, you know where I'll put it.
His hand stills, and then he slides it out from under his jacket. In his
a dark gleam appears in his eyes.
– Skip these Mother Teresa-esque numbers and tell me openly what you want
from my family. – He has a velvety, low voice, a strange contrast to the harsh
words.
“I don't want anything from your family,” I begin, and I thank Providence that I
have the door behind me. – Except for one thing: leave me alone. By the way,
Mother Teresa would take the money and give it away in the canteen or share it
with the poor on the street, you know, charity and so on.
He looks at me with a straight face.
– You think it's so funny? – he asks with fury, clearly audible in his voice. He
takes another step towards me, now so close that our toes touch. If he comes
any closer, I'll kick him in the jewels, even if it means drawing the attention of
the entire Maxton Hall.
“I don't want to argue with you, Beaufort,” I say with forced calm. – Or your
sister. But above all, I don't want your money. All I want is to get through the
school year successfully.
“You really don't want the money,” he says with such disbelief that I
automatically wonder what he and his family must have experienced in the past.
Or who they were dealing with. But it's not my business, not my business, not
my business!
– No, I really don't want the money. – Maybe he'll finally believe me if I repeat
it a few more times while looking deep into his eyes.
He stares at me for an eternity, as if analyzing my face and intentions. And
then he looks at my mouth, chin, neck and beyond.
Centimeter by centimeter.
When he lifts his head again, understanding appears in his eyes.
He takes a step back.
- I see. – He looks around with a sigh. – Where do you want to do it?
I have no idea what he means.

- I'm listening?
– Where do you want to do it? - He scratches the back of his head. – I think
there's an empty room there. I have a pick for all the doors. – He's looking at me
researching. – Are you very loud? Because Mrs. Wakefield's office is right next door, and
she often stays after hours.
I stare at him blankly, trying to figure out what the hell he means.
– I have no idea what you're talking about.

He raises an eyebrow mockingly.
- Bright. Listen, I know these numbers called: I don't want your money. - And then he
energetically takes my hand and drags me down the hall. He stops in front of the door,
takes the key from his pants pocket and opens it. With his other hand, he loosens his tie
around his neck.
Where do you want to do it?
When I finally realize what he meant, I gasp in outrage. And then he pulls my hand
through the open door.
I grab onto the doorframe and pull my hand from his grasp.
- What's that supposed to mean? – I turn to him.
– We are negotiating again – he replies. He glances at the watch on his wrist.
I follow his gaze: black strap, brown dial, all very elegant. And probably exorbitantly
expensive. – I have training soon, so it would be great if we could hurry up. – He keeps
holding the door for me and nodding at me, while with his other hand he unties his tie
completely and starts unbuttoning his shirt. When he reveals his chest and out of the corner
of my eye I see clearly defined muscles, my brain short-circuits. Suddenly my throat goes
dry.
– Have you completely lost your mind? – I say hoarsely and take a step back,
before unbuttoning his shirt all the way.
He looks at me searchingly.
– Don't pretend you don't know how things like this are handled here.
I snort contemptuously.
“You must have truly lost your mind if you think you can silence me by providing bodily
services.” Who do you think you are, you pompous asshole?
He blinks a few times. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. In the end he just shrugs.
My cheeks are burning. I don't know if I should be more

disgusted or ashamed. A mixture of both emotions comes over me.
- What's wrong with you? – I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.
Teraz to on prycha.
– Everyone has their price, Robyn. What's yours?
– My name is Ruby, dammit! – I hiss and clench my fists. – What's my price? Give
me a break, do you understand? I can't afford to be seen with you.
Sparks fly from his eyes.

– Can't you afford to be seen with me? – The disbelief in his voice should
theoretically have enraged me even more, but now I feel only pity for him. Almost.
– It's enough that you talked to me in the cafeteria. I don't want to become
part of your world.
“My world,” he repeats dryly.
– You know, parties, drugs and all that nonsense. I don't want anything to do with
it.
Suddenly, footsteps sound in the corridor. My heart first freezes in my chest and
then beats like crazy. I push James into the empty room and close the door behind
us. I hold my breath, listen, and pray that whoever is walking down the hall isn't
headed for this particular room.
No no no no.
The footsteps are getting louder. I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear the person in the
hall pass the door and then move away. The sound of footsteps stopped completely.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
– You're serious. - James' tone is as inscrutable as his gaze.
– Absolutely – I assure you. – So please, finally button up your shirt.

He slowly complies with my request, but keeps looking into my eyes. As if he was searching
I forgot to close the gate, but I don't think he finds anything.
- All right.
The pressure in my chest finally becomes
lighter. - Great. Fantastic. Listen, I have to go home, my parents are waiting for
me. – I turn around. James doesn't say anything, so I wave goodbye and head for
the door.
– I still don't trust you. – His dark voice gives me goosebumps.
I press the door handle.

- Mutually.
OceanofPDF.com
James
The atmosphere in the locker room is tense, the air sparkles with
adrenaline rushing through our veins. These moments before the coach
speaks to us and we finally run onto the field are both the worst and the greatest.
In these minutes, everything seems possible: victory and defeat, pride
and shame, mad joy and depressing frustration. At no other moment is
the sense of unity in the team stronger and motivation greater.
From outside, you can hear the screams of other students and the
cheering of rivals. It's hard to believe that five years ago, no one at
Maxton Hall was interested in lacrosse. Back then, it was a sport for
losers: whoever didn't make the rugby or soccer team ended up in
lacrosse, so the team was really weak. He was a colorful mixture of
pubescent, skinny guys with pimply faces and too long arms and legs
that they couldn't control.
I thought it would be fun to join this team. But most of all, I wanted to
drive my father crazy. I would never have thought that I would actually
like this sport. Or that after just a few weeks, ambition will take over and
I will want my team to achieve something more. I convinced my friends
to join us, threatened Principal Lexington that he would lose my parents'
favor if he didn't hire a better coach, and asked our top designer to create
us new uniforms.
For the first time in my life I became seriously interested in something.

And it was worth it. Today, five years later, after training several times a
week, after hectoliters of blood, sweat and tears, after several broken
bones and three championship wins, we are the symbol of the school.
We have worked hard to get where we are today. Whenever
I am filled with pride when I look into the faces of my team members before the
match.
Just like now.
However, today I have another feeling. Dark, painful, it makes me put the helmet
on my head for the first time after so many years with a heavy heart.
This will be the first game of my last year at school.

The end of the season means the end of everything for me. Lacrosse is part of a
slow, inexorable countdown that I cannot stop.
No matter how hard I try.
- Everything's all right? – Wren asks and pokes me in the shoulder.
I push the dark thoughts away with all my strength. It hasn't happened yet, I still
have a whole year during which I can do whatever I want. With only a half-forced
smile, I turn to my friend and say, "We're going to give those assholes from Eastview
a hard time."
“McCormack's mine,” Alistair says, as if he's just waiting for the password. –
I have a score to settle with him.
“Alistair,” Keshav begins from my left. He touches the bridge of his nose with his
fingers, exactly where it was broken a year ago. – Let it go. - His tone and the
pointed look he gives Alistair leave no doubt that this is not the first time they have
discussed this topic.
“No,” Alistair says.
McCormack, unfortunately my namesake, deliberately hit Kesha in the face with
his bat during the last game, after he took off his helmet. I still remember how
shocked I was as I watched Kesh fall to the ground, blood gushing from his nose
and onto his shirt.
I remember the minutes when he lay unconscious on the turf.
McCormack spent the next three games on the bench, but the thought of Kesha's
face makes me angry. Apparently Alistair feels the same way. He keeps watching
Kesh.
“Just don't do anything stupid,” he says, and puts on a blue T-shirt, then ties his
long dark hair into a messy ponytail and closes his locker.
“You know him,” Wren mutters and leans against the locker with a crooked smile on his
face.
– I don't care if I spend the rest of the season on the bench. McCormack must
pay. - Alistair pats Kesha on the shoulder. – You should be happy that I'm fighting
so hard for your honor.
Before she can withdraw her hand, Kesh holds her on his shoulder. He glances
over his shoulder.
- I'm serious.
Alistair's amber eyes are narrow slits.
- Me too.
They stare at each other a little too long and the already tense atmosphere
becomes unbearable. It's time to get into action.
“Stay strong for the field,” I say in a tone that leaves no doubt that at this moment
I am speaking not as a friend, but as a captain. I feel two angry eyes on me, but
before my colleagues can respond, I clap my hands.
The entire team gathers in the middle of the locker room. While running, I put
on the number seventeen shirt. The material is familiar, part of me.
And the dark thought of the end comes back again, but I push it away with all my
might and focus on Coach Freeman, who is entering the locker room at that
moment. He's coming towards us. He is a tall, powerful man, although his long legs
and arms befit a long-distance runner or track athlete rather than a lacrosse player.
He adjusts his blue cap over his recently increasingly lighter hair, walks up to us,
puts his arms around me and Cyril - his captain and his deputy.
His eyes wander around the room.

– For some of you this is the first season, for many it is the last. Our goal is to
win the championship, he begins. – Nothing else is possible. So let's get to work.
Coach Freeman isn't a great speaker, but no one expects him to be either. A
few sentences are enough for a loud murmur of approval to escape from our
throats.
“This is going to be the best season in Maxton Hall history,” I add, a little louder
than the coach. - Bright?
The boys grunt again, but not enthusiastically enough, according to Cyril. He
puts his hand to his ear.
- Clearly?
This time the roar is so loud that it rings in my ears, just as it should. And
then we put on our helmets and reach for our sticks. The journey from the
locker room through the narrow tunnel is like diving; sounds from outside
come through with difficulty, as if something was blocking my ears. I tighten
my grip on the bat and lead my team onto the field.
The stands are bursting at the seams. There's a scream as we run onto the pitch.
Cheerleaders dance. The music booms from the speakers and makes the
ground shake
under my feet. Fresh air fills my lungs, I haven't felt so alive in weeks. The
substitutes and the coach take their places on the edge of the field, and we
run to the middle and face the opposing team, as motivated as we are.
“It's going to be a good match,” Cyril mutters at my side, too

I say my thoughts out loud.
We're waiting for the referee, so I look around the stands. From this
distance, I barely recognize anyone, except for Lydia, who's perched high up,
surrounded by her friends, pretending she doesn't give a damn about the
game. I look down at the edge of the field, at the opposing team's substitutes,
at their coach as he approaches Freeman to say hello.
And then the dark hairstyle catches my attention. A girl stands between the
coaches. He talks to them, points to something in his hand. When the wind blows her
hair away from her face, I recognize her.
I can't afford to be seen with you.
Remembering her words is like a punch to the stomach. No one has ever
said anything like that to me before. Usually the situation is exactly the
opposite. People want to be seen with me at all costs. Ever since I first walked
into Maxton Hall, other students have literally been on my heels, trying to get
my attention at all costs. That's normal when your last name is Beaufort. Since
my mother's family opened a men's clothing department store a hundred and
fifty years ago and made billions in the process, there is no one in England
who doesn't know our name. Beaufort is associated with wealth.
With influence. With power. And at Maxton Hall, a lot of people think I can get
it all for them - or at least the crumbs - if they suck up to me long enough.
I couldn't count the number of times I found sketches of suits in my pocket after a
night of partying. How many times, during a seemingly casual conversation, someone
suddenly asked about my parents' friends. How many times have various people tried
to become my friends, only to then leak information about Lydia and me to the press.
The best, but by no means the only, example is a photo from Wren's sixteenth
birthday, two years ago, of me snorting a line of coke. I won't even mention what
Lydia had to go through.
That's why I choose my friends very carefully. Wren, Alistair, Cyril and Kesh don't
care about my money because their own is enough. Alistair and Cyril come from old
aristocratic English families, Wren's father made an incredible fortune on the stock
market, Kesha's father is a famous film producer. Everyone wants to know us.
Everything except…
I keep my eyes on Ruby. Dark hair gleams in the sunlight, blown by the wind. He
struggles with his fringe, smoothing it with his hand, although it doesn't help, because
two seconds later it falls unruly again. I'm absolutely certain that before this thing with
Lydia, I had never seen her in my life.
Now I wonder how this is possible.

I can't afford to be seen with you. Literally everything about her arouses distrust,
but what stands out is her piercing green eyes. I want to approach her, see if she
looks at others the same way she looks at me: with contempt.
This girl saw my sister kissing the teacher.

I wonder what he's planning. Is he just waiting for the right moment to set off the bomb? It
wouldn't be the first time our family would make the covers of the tabloids.
Mortimer Beaufort has an affair with a twenty-year-old woman.

Cordelia Beaufort in the depths of depression.
Will his addiction break him? James Beaufort is addicted!
All my father had to do was go out to dinner with a co-worker and the media
reported the affair. The dejection after my parents' argument turned into severe
depression, and I turned into a drug addict who would overdose any day now and
desperately beg for help. I didn't want to wonder what they would think of when they
heard about Lydia and Sutton.
I keep looking at Ruby. She took her camera out of her backpack and took
photos of the coaches shaking hands for the second time. I grip the bat so
tightly that my gloves creak. I can't figure her out, I have no idea if she was
telling the truth or if her behavior was cold calculation.
Maybe I should offer her more money. Or maybe he wants something

different and is just waiting for the right moment to demand it.
I don't like that the fate of my family, especially Lydia, rests in the hands
of this girl.
I can't afford to be seen with you.
We'll see for sure.
Ruby
He can not.
Lacrosse is a fast sport. The ball flies quickly from one net to another, and
I have a hard time keeping track of what's going on in the match, either
through the camera lens or with the naked eye. I should have known from
the very beginning that without Lin I wouldn't be able to do it, I wouldn't be
able to capture the game. We usually share articles about sporting events:
one describes the game, the other takes photos. But today, at the last minute,
my mother took her to London again, and in such a short time we were
unable to get anyone from the organizing committee to replace her.
Since reports from lacrosse matches are the most frequently read entries
on the organizing committee's blog, we couldn't give up. The problem is that
in order to write something about the Maxton Hall vs. Eastview match - a
duel of giants, I would have to understand what is happening on the field.
However, amid the screams of players, curses from coaches, shouts of joy
and frustration from the stands, it is impossible to closely observe the game,
not to mention photograph the most important moments. Especially since my
camera is at least ten years old.
– In the ass! – Coach Freeman shouts in my ear so loudly that I flinch. I
look away from the camera and realize I've missed Eastview's second goal.
Lin will kill me.
I'm taking the next step towards coaching. Unfortunately, during a live match
you can't count on a replay like on TV, but maybe he will explain to me what's
going on. But before I can open my mouth to ask for it, he starts screaming again.
“Pass it on, Ellington, damn it!”

I turn towards the pitch. Alistair Ellington runs towards the opponent's half so
fast that I don't even try to keep the lens on him because the camera can't cover
the whole pitch. He tries to get past two defenders and then out of nowhere a
third opponent appears, blocking his path. Ellington is incredibly agile, but unlike
other players, he is very small. Even I know he doesn't stand a chance against
three. One of the defenders presses against him with his shoulder. Ellington
doesn't budge, even though he moves a good half a meter back.
– Pass it! – roars Coach Freeman again.

Alistair doesn't listen to him, he faces his opponents alone. Even here, on the
edge of the pitch, I can hear them hurling insults at each other. Suddenly, the
already tense Alistair straightens even more, and for a split second he and his
opponent seem to freeze in the same positions.
Coach Freeman takes a deep breath, probably to scream again, but then
Alistair slowly exhales and punches his opponent in the side with all his might.
Terrified, I gasp loudly. Alistair punches a second time, this time straight in the
stomach. The opponent screams in pain and falls to his knees. Meanwhile, the
other defender lunges at Alistair, pulls him to the pitch and throws punches with
his gloved hands. Alistair defends himself with a stick.
A shrill whistle sounds, but it takes several teammates to separate the fighters. I
hear the dark voice of James Beaufort.
He's yelling at Ellington and I can imagine that right now, as team captain, he'd
love to rip his head off.
At my side, Coach Freeman curses non-stop. "In the ass" is the mildest
expression, the rest are unprintable. He took off his hat and ran his fingers
through his hair so furiously that I think I actually saw some of it fall to the ground.
After a while, the referee sends Alistair to the bench.
He walks up to us, takes the helmet off his head and takes the mouthguard out of his mouth. One thing
and throws the second one to the ground.
“What the hell was that, Ellington!” – the coach growls.

I discreetly take a step back so as not to end up on the battlefield.
“He deserved it,” he replies. Very calmly, as if before
for a moment he wasn't involved in the fight at all.
- You have…
– Grounded for the next three games? – Alistair shrugs. – If you think the team
can handle it, go ahead.
And then he nonchalantly passes the coach, throws the stick to the ground, and pulls it off
gloves. When he sees my gaze, he freezes.
- What is? – he says aggressively.
I just shake my head.
Fortunately, the referee's whistle saves me from trouble and I don't have to
answer. I return to my previous place as quickly as I can.
It takes me a moment to locate the ball - it's currently in the net on Wren's stick. The
guy isn't as fast as Alistair, but he's stronger.
He pushes an Eastview player out of the way with his shoulder, but then someone
else takes the ball away from him. And then Beaufort steps in and intercepts it
before the opponent can pass it further.
I frown suspiciously. Beaufort is really good. Damn good. He moves agilely,
fluidly, adapts to his opponents' steps, and brutally moves them out of his way. I
can't see his face under the helmet, but I'm sure he's enjoying the game. When he
plays, it's like he's done nothing but run around the neighborhood with a lacrosse
stick his entire life.
– What are you doing exactly? – Alistair asks next to me. I flinch once again, but
at the same time I remember why I'm here. I nervously open my notebook.
“I'm writing an article about the match for the school blog,” I answer without looking at him.
– What's the name of that defender who just took the ball from Wren?
“Harrington,” Alistair replies. I feel his eyes on me as Coach Freeman lets out
another barrage of curses.
Apparently Beaufort dropped the ball while I was taking notes. Eastview is back in
possession. “Come on, Kesh,” Alistair whispers.
The Eastview forward throws the ball forward. Everything happens so quickly
that at first I can't tell if she was there
mesh or not. But then we hear the cheers from our stands and Keshav raises his
bat in triumph. Apparently Alistair's support helped and he stopped the attacker.
“Don't bash me too much in this article,” Alistair mutters as I nervously write
down that Keshav saved us at the last minute. I look at Alistair this closely for the
first time and notice that he has eyes the color of Scotch whisky.
– You attacked a player of the opposing team for no reason. How can I not
smear you?
I look back at Keshav and a dark shadow crosses his face.
– How do you know it's without reason?

I shrug.
– From my perspective, it didn't look like you were staying particularly long
he was wondering what you were doing.
Alistair looks at me with raised eyebrows.
– I've been waiting for an opportunity to hit McCormack for months.
When he started insulting me and my friends, I finally had an excuse.
A blond lock of hair falls on his forehead. He brushes it away impatiently. Then
notices my notes. He grimaces.
– How are you supposed to decipher this when writing an article? These are terrible
scribbles.
I'd like to protest, but he's right. I usually write legibly, and when I try, even
nicely. But at the rate I have to document everything, I'm scribbling like a hen
with a claw.
“We usually do it together,” I explain, although I really shouldn't care what
Alistair Ellington thinks of my handwriting. – It's really not easy to take photos,
observe the game and write down all the important moments at the same time to
create an article later.
– Why don't you just film the match? – he asks. He seems genuinely interested
and I don't think he's doing it just to make fun of me later.
Without a word, I raise the camera.

Alistair grimaces.
– Jesus, how old is this?
“I bet my mom bought it before my sister's birthday,” I reply.
– How old is your sister? Five?

- Sixteen.
Alistair blinks a few times, then a smile appears on his face.
At this point, he no longer looks like the hardened lacrosse player who
attacked his opponent with his stick just a few minutes ago. No, right now
he looks like... an angel. She has beautiful, regular features that,
combined with light curls, make her look like the embodiment of innocence.
But I know that's not true. Alistair is one of my closest friends
James Beaufort, so there can be no question of innocence.
“Wait a minute,” he says suddenly, turns on his heel and disappears through the door leading
to the locker room. Before I can even think about what he's planning, he stands in front of me
again. He holds a black iPhone in his hand. – I don't have enough memory to record the entire
match, but I can take a few photos – he offers. He unlocks his phone, turns on the camera and
focuses the lens towards the pitch. When he sees that I'm still frozen in place, he raises an
eyebrow questioningly. – As far as I know, you were supposed to be watching the match, not
me.
I blink in surprise. I'm so shocked that I don't even feel stupid

that he once again caught me looking at him.
- Do you want to help me?
Shrugs.
– I don't have anything better to do right now anyway.
– That's… really nice of you. Thank you. – I try to keep the suspicion
out of my voice, but I'm not very good at it.
This situation is simply absurd. I can't believe this is really Elaine
Ellington's brother. She wouldn't help me under any circumstances.
On the contrary, she would laugh at my camera and make sure everyone knew
about it tomorrow.
I watch Alistair out of the corner of my eye, but he seems to be really
committed to his task. He snaps photos one by one, leaving his phone
only for a moment to shout in support of his team or throw insults at his
opponents.
I take notes, which is much easier for me now. When Coach Freeman
approaches us, I'm afraid he's telling Alistair to get down
from the pitch, hearing a stream of curses coming from his mouth against his opponents.
However, he stands next to me and explains the rules of the game and describes individual
tactical moves.
At the end of the match it begins to rain, but the rain does not dampen the enthusiasm
either in the stands or on the pitch. On the contrary. When Maxton Hall takes the lead
after a good pass from Cyril Vega to Beaufort, the stands explode with joy. The coach lets
out a shout of joy, turns towards our stands and raises his fists in triumph.
I hastily close my notebook and put it in my backpack. My hair is wet and sticks to my
scalp, my bangs sticking miserably to my forehead. There's no point in correcting it, and I
don't want to brush it back either because I inherited my dad's high forehead.
Our players run off the field and give Alistair high fives - everyone except Keshav, who
walks into the locker room without even giving him a glance. For a moment, Alistair's face
shows an emotion I can't define. For a split second his smile disappears, his eyes darken
and become impenetrable. But then he blinks and the moment passes so quickly that I
feel like I've imagined it all.
Alistair catches my gaze again. He raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“Thanks so much for your help,” I say quickly, before he can say anything. I'm not sure
he'll be nice to me even when his friends are around, and I'd rather not take the risk. –
You know, with the photos.
- No problem. – He touches the display and hands me the phone. He opened
address book. – Give me your number so I can send you photos.
I take the phone from him. Before I finish entering my number, it rings
a voice I know all too well.
- What are you doing?
I lift my head.
Standing before me is James Beaufort. He's soaked to the skin: his red-gold hair is
darker than usual, making his features appear sharper.
He holds a lacrosse stick in one hand and a helmet in the other, and he doesn't seem to
feel at all that the streams of rain are flowing down his face, shoulders and entire body,
blending into the mud that was left on his shirt after the game.
Despite myself, I stare at his body.
And suddenly something awakens in me that has nothing to do with distrust and
reluctance. A feeling I don't know, but I'm sure it's James
Beaufort is the last person in whose presence I would want to experience it.
I resolutely push aside all thoughts and considerations about what this might
mean and try to maintain a neutral face.
Fortunately, Alistair answers his question.
– She writes a match report for the school blog. – He takes the camera from
me, looks at my number and the name under which I wrote it down.
He probably didn't know my name before. – I'll send you photos later, Ruby.
– Great, thank you very much – I reply, although in my mind I'm already
preparing for the fact that he won't do it at all. No matter how much he surprised
me in the last thirty minutes, it's still Alistair Ellington.
“I'm going to see how mad Kesh is,” he tells James.
– Very much – he replies and turns a cold look at his friend and teammate
from the field. – Same as me and everyone else. I told you to stay away from
McCormack.
– And I didn't listen to you. – Alistair shrugs. – James, you may be my
captain, but you're definitely not my mother. - Judging by his voice, he doesn't
care what Beaufort thinks of him, but when he pats him on the shoulder after a
while, I take it as a gesture of apology. Then he turns on his heel and
disappears into the locker room.
And James looks back at me. And his gaze is even colder. I don't know if it's
about me or the conflict with Alistair, but I do know that I need to get out of
here as soon as possible.
– What is this? – he says.
Suddenly the rain feels even more icy.
“I don't know what you mean,” I reply, my voice stronger than I actually feel.
He makes a sound that was probably supposed to be laughter. Or maybe a

growl? I do not know. I can only see that he is even more tense and the
expression on his face is determined.
-Stay away from my friends, Ruby.
Before I can answer anything, he walks away towards the cloakroom at
accompanied by the triumphant shouts of our fans.
OceanofPDF.com
James
– This party sucks. - Wren takes a long drink from his flask and passes it to Cyril, who is
leaning on the railing with the same bored expression.
At our feet lies Weston Hall, a huge, elegant ballroom with tall windows, wooden
parquet floors and stucco walls typical of Maxton Hall. Like the rest of the buildings, the
atmosphere here is straight from the 15th century, or usually at least.
Today I feel like I'm at a children's party. The decorations are fun, refreshments include
non-alcoholic punch and appetizers in tiny bowls decorated with colorful ribbons. The
music is macabre. I don't understand what the DJ is doing behind the console. There are
no meaningful transitions between subsequent songs, it sounds as if he simply played a
Spotify playlist at random. I'm expecting an advertisement for a crappy album any minute
now. Besides, the guests probably didn't really know what to wear to today's party. Some
dressed up, others dressed too nonchalantly. In short, this party is a disaster.
As if someone was trying to bring a breath of freshness into Maxton Hall, but at the same
time didn't dare to completely say goodbye to tradition. The result is a strange mixture of
innovation and elegance that catches guests off guard and effectively nips any hint of fun
in the bud.
– Don't exaggerate, it's not that bad. - Alistair's voice startles me from my reverie. He
puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his toes, eyes fixed on the dance floor below
us, where a small group is actually gathered.
– Only you want to go to these parties. Kesh rolls his eyes.
Alistair shrugs.
– Because they're funny.
Kesh grimaces, takes the flask from Cyril and hands it to me. He didn't drink a drop
himself.
– It'll be fun here too, believe me. – I take a large sip and enjoy it
the pleasant burn of scotch in the throat.
Wren looks between Alistair and me. Suddenly his eyes become big and round.
– Have you planned something?
I ignore his words and just shrug, but Alistair, as always, has no control over his
facial expressions. You don't have to know him very well to immediately realize that
he's hiding something. The mischievous gleam in his eye and tense muscles reveal
everything.
- Unbelievable. You planned something and told him but not me? “Wren points an
accusing finger at Alistair, then at me. - You are my best friend. I see it as a betrayal.
– Betrayal? – I smile to myself.

He nods vigorously.
– A betrayal of the principles of brotherhood that has united us since early childhood.
– What nonsense.
As a reward for my dry tone, I receive a boxing punch to the shoulder.
“Look at it differently, Wren: you're in for a fantastic surprise,” Alistair remarks and
pinches his cheek.
Wren smiles crookedly.
– I hope it turns out to be worth it.
His speech is already slurred and slurred, and this is only the third round of the
flask. I don't protest when he brings it to his mouth again, even though I know Wren
reaches for it too often. It's actually a waste to drink good, expensive Bowmore whiskey
here on the sly instead of from a crystal glass, but at Maxton Hall events only parents
and alumni get alcohol.
Students are not even allowed to approach the bar. But that never stopped us from
having fun, and most teachers turn a blind eye when they realize we've been drinking.
The worst thing that has happened to us so far is the warning. My parents donate so
much money to the school every year that the board has no choice but to give me
concessions.
They simply cannot afford to mess with us, the Beauforts, or our friends.
– Where exactly is Lydia? – asks Cyril. He tries to sound nonchalant, but

he won't fool us. He has been hopelessly infatuated with my sister for many
years. And since they were briefly brought together two years ago, things
have become really complicated. Lydia, who just wanted to have fun at the
time, broke up with him after a few weeks, having no idea that poor Cyril was
head over heels in love with her. She broke his heart.
Sometimes I really feel sorry for him. Especially when I think that he hasn't
been with anyone for over two years and clearly hasn't forgotten about her yet.
– Don't you think it's high time to... stop, so to speak?

look back? – Alistair notes.
Cyril freezes him with his bright blue eyes.
– She was supposed to meet a friend first, I guess she won't show up until
later – I answer quickly, before the situation escalates. Whenever one of us
even slightly brings up the subject of Lydia, Cyril reacts as if we had insulted
him in the worst way.
Under no circumstances can he find out that my sister has anything in
common with the teacher. Which reminds me, I need to have a few words with him.
He needs to stay away from her or I will make sure his job at Maxton Hall
becomes hell.
I blame myself for not taking care of him sooner, but the priority was making
sure Ruby kept her mouth shut. Because there's something about this girl that
makes me distrust her.
A few days ago, I met her in the corridor when Lydia and I were going to
philosophy class. My sister immediately looked at the floor, and I found Ruby's
gaze.
Our eyes met, but she didn't look at me for even a split second. On the
contrary, I stared at her for so long that I had to turn away. Her proud attitude
caught my attention. The way she held her binder under her arm, her decisive
step, her head raised.
She looked like she was going into battle. I instinctively look around for her.
I guess I'm sensitive to her, because in a crowd of over a hundred people, I
only need a few seconds to find her. I lean on the railing and lean forward.
Ruby stands at the buffet and notes frantically. He raises his head, looks
around, and leans over his notebook again. Then he turns around
abruptly and moves towards the DJ booth. She talks to him for a moment and
points to her notes.
Suddenly I have an epiphany.
The cholera.
He's probably on the organizing committee.
The corners of my mouth twitch. This will be fun. Ruby says something else to
the DJ, who nods. And then he crosses the dance floor, goes to the buffet again
and stands to the side. She reaches into the pocket of her dark green dress and
takes out something. Cell phone. He turns on the camera and then turns it off
again. Just then, a man in a suit approaches her. When I recognize him, I grip
the wooden balustrade with all my might.
Graham Sutton.
Aside from the fact that I'm wary of anyone who gets too close to my sister,
Sutton's case raises a whole host of other alarm bells. Especially now that I see
the way he talks to Ruby.
It's true that she avoids his gaze, but it doesn't seem particularly so
moved.
I squint and curse for what the world is, that I'm up here, not downstairs at the buffet where I
could hear what they're talking about. Maybe it's something totally corny, like this whole party,
but maybe they're talking about my sister.
What if they're in this together? What if Sutton made a deal with Ruby? It
hadn't occurred to me before, and I don't think Lydia had considered it either.
She hasn't yet explained to me how she ended up kissing her teacher, but I know
her well enough to know that this man means more to her than a bit of adrenaline
during a boring week.
I instinctively want to protect my sister. Like an automaton, I reach into my

inside jacket pocket and take out my cell phone. I unlock it with my thumb, touch
the display, and turn on the camera.
Ruby and Sutton stand in a dark corner. He put his hand on her shoulder and
said, leaning over her. Only after a while do I realize that her notebook is between
them and that they are both staring at it. They're obviously really talking about
the party.
In fact, it looks totally innocent. But on my phone's display, at the right angle and
with a bit of editing, this situation will be interpreted completely differently. I press
the shutter button. Over and over again.
- What are you doing? Alistair's voice sounds behind me. He looks over my
shoulder.
“I'm protecting myself,” I answer.
He frowns.
– What do you have against her?
I breathe deeply. I would love to drink more whiskey to completely switch off. I
haven't been able to do this for days.
– She saw something she shouldn't have seen.
Alistair looks at me for a long moment before finally nodding.
- All right.
– If she tells anyone about this, Lydia will be in big trouble.
He looks down at Ruby, who is still talking to Mr. Sutton.
- I see.
I take a photo one last time and slip my phone into my inside jacket pocket. And
then my eyes wander towards the entrance to the room.
– My guests have arrived. A broad smile appears on Alistair's face.
– Showtime, gentlemen.
Ruby
The event was a great success. At 11 p.m. the ballroom is bursting at the seams,
Maxton Hall guests eating and drinking, talking and dancing. There haven't been
any major mishaps so far, and Principal Lexington just congratulated Lin and me
on another successful evening. I was so relieved that for a moment I even
considered going to the dance floor and dancing a bit. But I've already told Doug
and Camilla that they're off for the rest of the evening, and one of us has to keep
an eye on everything, especially the buffet, to make sure no one thinks to put
alcohol in the punch.
For the first two hours, the dance floor was empty and that worried me a bit. But
Kieran, who is also a member of the organizing committee and was responsible
for the music, thought it was normal.
And I guess he was right. For half an hour, the guests have been dancing to the
accompaniment of remixes of various songs from the charts. Personally, I don't like them
very much, but they seem to suit the taste of the guests here.
I'm looking around. I don't know many people, which is actually normal. The purpose
of these events is to attract graduates, look for sponsors and recruit parents of potential
students. That was the first thing I heard from Lexington's principal when I was trying to
get on the organizing committee two years ago. The next priority is to ensure a pleasant
evening for the students of Maxton Hall.
Suddenly the light goes out. The music stops.

For a split second I freeze in fear, but then I reach out vigorously
to the bra, to the cell phone.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter and try to turn on the flashlight.
An angry growl echoes through the room and echoes in my head. This party must be
a success. Everything has to go perfectly. Even if the power went out, the principal will
blame Lin and me. In my mind, I can already hear the boring tirade of a disappointed
Lexington, who will drone on and on about the planning, foresight, and image damage
that the school has suffered because of us.
I push through the crowd at the buffet. There's no point in looking for Lin, I have to run
to Mr. Jones, our handyman, myself immediately. He needs to go to the basement
immediately and fix…
Light flashes. I breathe a sigh of relief and press my hand to my racing heart. But
when I turn around and see James Beaufort in the DJ booth, my heart leaps into my
throat again.
James talks to the DJ and presses something into his hand, probably money.
I grit my teeth. I'm too far away to run to him quickly.
I look at the dance floor. A few guests look around curiously, probably wondering what
happened to the music. They move towards the bar and buffet. The fact that some of
them do not look like typical Maxton Hall party guests becomes apparent to me when it
is too late.
– My dears – comes the DJ's voice. – I just received information that there is another
special surprise waiting for you today.
Ready? – My stomach does somersaults. Across the dance floor from me, I see Lin and
Kieran. They are as pale as a wall, they look like ghosts. - Have fun!
The light dims so much that the room is dark. There is a murmur of surprise as the
music begins again. The song has deep bass and a slow beat that makes the
chandeliers shake.
I stare at the dance floor. Several women and men start a very sensual dance.
Suddenly the atmosphere changes dramatically. It is no longer elegant and refined, but
dirty and sticky. I start walking toward Beaufort, but then someone puts a hand on my
shoulder.
– Ruby Bell? – asks the guy who stood next to me. I nod instinctively. In the opposite
corner of the room, one of the young women approaches two teachers, Mr. Sutton and
Mr. Cabot, and pulls them behind her to the middle of the dance floor. “A special gift
from your friend James Beaufort,” he says and slides a chair over to me, almost tripping
me with it, so I sit down involuntarily. I look at him in amazement.
Light blonde hair, slicked back and tamed with gel, light blue eyes. He's twenty-five
at most. He takes a position in front of me... And starts dancing. It's dry in my mouth.
I think frantically. I can't believe this is actually happening. But that's how it is. The
guy first slowly slides his jacket off his shoulders, then nonchalantly unties his black bow
tie. When he throws it behind him, several women squeal with delight. Then he plays
with the suspenders, slips one off, and smiles seductively at me. At the second harness,
it rotates around its axis and releases the elastic strap with a loud pop. Then he leans
over me and sways his hips to the slow rhythm of the song.
"You don't want to help me, Ruby?" – he asks hoarsely, taking my hand
into his own, surprisingly warm one, and puts it on the harness.
– Go on, undress him! – someone shouts.
This snaps me out of my trance.
I jump up abruptly. The guy takes a step back. For a moment he seems taken aback,
but then his seductive smile returns. With a decisive gesture, he takes off the second
suspender and continues dancing as if nothing had happened.
I move my gaze to the center of the dance floor and my heart stops in my throat. Two
young women dance in front of Mr. Cabot almost naked except for lace bras and glitter
panties.
This can't be true, it must be a nightmare from which I'll wake up in a sweat at any
moment. But then I spot Alistair Ellington, na
on whose lap a man sits. He's already removed his suspenders and is
now unbuttoning his shirt, with Alistair eagerly helping him. And then it
hits me. I can't fool myself anymore. This is all real.
Enraged, I turn on my heel. I see him right away. James Beaufort
stands by the door, watching the show. He holds a glass with a brown
liquid in his hand. There's an almost blissful expression on his face.
The voice of reason tells me to find Lin first and then ask the teachers
to put an end to this idiocy immediately. But my emotions advise me to
do terrible things to James first, to cause him great pain. And although
this voice is definitely stronger, I control myself with the last of my
strength and turn away.
I'll still have time to hurt James Beaufort.
Because I know exactly how.
OceanofPDF.com
James
On Monday morning, everyone talks about only one thing: the party.
Over the weekend, the school forum was bursting with messages, photos and videos
that everyone wanted to share and comment on. Now they want to talk about it. They
applaud us and thank us for a fantastic evening. Our action not only appeared in our
daily newspaper, but also spread to other English schools.
Of course, my parents didn't believe me when I swore I had nothing to do with it,
but actually they were more angry at Lydia, who didn't show up at the party at all. All
in all, everything ended well.
At least that's what I thought until the loudspeakers in the hallway crackled and an
announcement rang out throughout the school: "James
Beaufort is to report to Principal Lexington's office immediately."
I expected this. Already this morning, during the weekly assembly before classes
began in Boyd Hall, Lexington expressed his opinion on the distasteful incident and,
in a voice full of indignation, reminded us of the Maxton Hall code of values. It's the
same thing over and over: we dial a number, Lexington tells the whole school how
upset he is, then he calls us over, warns us, threatens us, and five minutes later he
leaves us alone.
“I wonder if he'll say the same thing he always does,” Wren murmurs and puts his
arm around me. He draws me to him. – Don't let yourself rot.
– Never in my life – I answer, say goodbye to my friends and head towards the
principal's office. His secretary shows me the door without a word. Without hesitation,
I knock twice.
- Please come in.
I enter and close the door behind me. I turn around and suddenly stop moving.
Coach Freeman sits at the principal's desk, and directly across from
Lexington...Ruby. He glances at me over his shoulder, then looks straight ahead
again.
– You wanted to talk to me? - I'm asking. I'm a bit surprised at the gathering
audience. Lexington waves, motioning me to the seat next to Ruby.
“Please sit down,” he says, completely different than usual. He usually seems
flustered and irritated when he talks to me, as if all this is getting on his nerves
and he'd rather get on with the really important things as quickly as possible.
This time his voice is dangerously calm.
The wrinkles on the face also seem deeper than usual. Apparently I picked a
bad day for such a stunt. I slowly sink into the chair in front of his desk. – Is it
true that it was you… that you invited… specific artists… to the party on Friday?
– He clears his throat.
Apparently he was looking for the right word for a long time.
When I hear the word "artists," I can't help but smile.
“It depends on what you mean by that,” I answer slowly. – I swear I had nothing
to do with the DJ.
Lexington nods and looks at me carefully with steely eyes.
– Is everything a joke to you, Mr. Beaufort?
I shrug nonchalantly.
– Sometimes yes, sir.
Outraged, Ruby takes a loud breath. I look at her, but she avoids my gaze.
Principal Lexington leans over a dark mahogany desk. The light coming
through the window illuminates only half of his face. The silence in the office
suddenly seems almost eerie.
– What do you think, Mr. Beaufort, will be the impact of this incident?
school image?
I think about my answer for a moment.
- I think it's good. Everything is always so stiff here, it wouldn't hurt to loosen
up a bit every now and then.
“You really are nuts,” Ruby hisses.
– Miss Bell! – Principal Lexington shouts. – It's not your turn.
Ruby is as pale as a sheet of paper. He presses his lips into a thin line and
stares at the green backpack on his lap. He looks like he's about to
fall to pieces.
– Mr. Beaufort, your offense has exceeded all limits. I cannot tolerate such
antics at Maxton Hall.
…And I hereby give you a warning. If it happens again
something like that, you will have to face the consequences.
I know his speech by heart. I would love to talk with him and watch his reaction.
– You are a grown man, this is your last year at our school. You must finally
learn to take responsibility for your actions and realize that they have consequences,
Lexington continues.
Well well. Something new.

– Since you ruined the first big event of the school year, I think it's only right
that you serve on the organizing committee until the end of the semester. Let's call
it community service for the school under Miss Bell's supervision.
A moment of silence and then...

- What? – Ruby and I shout at the same time.
And then we look at each other.
“That's absolutely out of the question,” I start.
"Sir, I don't think so..." Ruby mutters.
Lexington gestures for us to remain silent. He looks at me over the top of his
rimless glasses, and I feel like he's staring at me.
– Mr. Beaufort, you have been a student at our school for five years. During this
time, you did unimaginable things, but you never suffered due consequences - he
begins. – I closed my eyes when you organized car races in the school yard. I
gave up on you when you and your friends thought it was a great idea to dress up
a statue of our founder in a cheerleader outfit and a wig. Or when you set up
profiles for me and other teachers on a dating site. Or the time you organized an
illegal party at Boyd Hall. Not to mention the countless times you showed up drunk
to school functions. But you must eventually learn that your actions cause
reactions. Maxton Hall has developed a certain reputation over the last century.
We focus on excellence, but also on discipline, and I cannot allow you and your
youthful recklessness to fail again and again.
she tarnished this opinion. – Now Lexington looks at Coach Freeman, who nods
vigorously. The principal looks back at me. My stomach feels bad. – Mr. Beaufort,
I am suspending your participation and membership in the lacrosse team from
now until the end of the semester.
The blood is rushing in my ears. I see Lexington's mouth move and he
continues talking, but no words come out.
Last season, an opponent hit me with his stick so hard that we both fell to the
ground at full speed until he hit me with his weight.
I have never felt such intense pain before, I couldn't breathe for half a minute. I
feel the same way now with all this happening.
“No… You can't do this,” I whisper hoarsely, angry at myself for the desperate
plea in my voice. I clear my throat, breathe deeply, and force myself to look as
neutral as my father taught me.
“Yes, Mr. Beaufort, I can,” the director replies calmly, folding his hands on his
stomach. – And before you threaten me with your parents' reaction, I would like to
inform you that I talked to your father this morning. He assured me that he would
approve any punishment I saw fit.
I didn't expect that either.
– With all due respect, director, this is our last season.
I'm the captain of the team, my boys need me. – I look pleadingly at Coach Freeman.
The grief in his eyes is like a punch to the stomach.

– It's your own fault, Beaufort.
– Alistair is grounded for the next three matches. When I'm gone...
– Cyril will become captain, and we will let you take your position on the pitch
one of the new ones.
My throat goes dry. I feel my face flush with rage
cheeks and hands start to tremble.
I clench my fists, dig my nails into my skin until my knuckles turn white.
– Please, coach. - Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ruby shifting uncomfortably
in her chair. I think he feels terribly uncomfortable in this situation, but now I don't
care what he thinks about me.
This is my last year at school. The last months before my life truly ends. For
lacrosse, for the last months of carefreeness
and freedom with friends I would give everything. Even if it means I have
to beg in front of Ruby Bell.
To my dismay, Coach Freeman is adamant. He shakes his head. He
folded his arms over his chest.
“Miss Bell, I hope you'll familiarize Mr. Beaufort with the tasks of the
organizing committee,” Principal Lexington continues as if nothing had
happened, as if he hadn't just ruined my life. – He is to attend every meeting
and participate in organizing every celebration until the end of the semester.
If he resists or causes problems for you, you will come to me about it,
understood?
"Yes, sir," Ruby replies quietly but firmly.
– When do you schedule the next committee meeting? Come on, Mr
Beaufort will put it on his calendar right away.
Ruby clears her throat, and even though I don't want to, I turn my head
towards her.
His eyes are hard, but mine are even harder.
“The next committee meeting will be held today, after lunch, in room
eleven in the library,” he replies without any emotion in his voice.
I grit my teeth with all my strength. I'm frantically looking for a way out of
this situation, but it's impossible. Besides, I have no idea how to explain all
this to my parents. This time I really went too far.
Ruby
- What?! – Lin screams so loudly that everyone in the library can hear her.
The other members of the organizing committee just look at me

in disbelief.
“As of today, James Beaufort is a member of our committee,” I repeat,
as calmly as the first time.
Lin bursts into laughter. After a while, when she has more or less pulled
herself together, I
continue: - Please, let's behave normally when he comes here soon. –
As I say these words, I glance significantly at Jessalyn Keswick, who
she's currently touching up her lips with lip gloss. The pastel pink suits her dark skin
perfectly, just like this makeup. Jessalyn is a beautiful, charismatic girl whose charm works
on everyone, including me. I could stare at her for hours.
- Come on? – he replies with an innocent smile. – I want to look my best when Beaufort
comes here.
He blows me a kiss. I roll my eyes, but I catch it in the air and carefully put it in my
pocket. The other committee members burst into laughter.
– What exactly is Principal Lexington hoping for? – asks Kieran Rutherford, a student
from a class below us. Pale, with intensely onyx eyes and slightly too long hair, he looks
like a vampire, like a young Dracula with expressive, sharp features. He is also at Maxton
Hall on a scholarship and, apart from me and Lin, he works the hardest and is the most
committed on our committee. – That we will change him and return him to the right path?
Lin snorts contemptuously.

– Believe me, there is nothing to convert.
Exactly. That's why she's my best friend at Maxton Hall.
– Hey! – Camille protests. This doesn't surprise me at all, however it may be, she is one
of Elaine Ellington's best friends, and therefore one of James's gang. What's more, she
hates Lin and me and is furious that we headed the committee. I don't understand why he
still works with us, but I guess it's just for the record. Because it certainly has nothing to do
with diligence and passion.
“Anyway, it doesn't matter,” I say quickly, as I see Lin opening her mouth to answer. –
He will work with us on the committee whether we like it or not. I just wanted to give you a
heads up. Plus, he can't play on the lacrosse team for the rest of the semester.
Jessalyn whistles in admiration.

– Well, Lexington stood up.
There is a murmur of approval throughout the room.
“Beaufort did this to himself,” Lin notes. – We spent half the summer preparing this party,
and he did it all with one stupid prank
broke. Besides, Ruby had to listen to Lexington whine for over half an
hour today.
- Really? – Kieran asks in disbelief.
I confirm with a nod of my head, to which he remarks
indignantly: - But it's not your fault that Beaufort brought these people to
the party.
I shrug.
– Organizing the party rested on our shoulders, so it was Lin's fault
and mine. Moreover, we really had to pay more attention to who entered
the school. In this respect we are indeed complicit. Lexington had us
post a formal apology on the school blog to let everyone know we didn't
plan this.
This makes me even more furious with Beaufort. In all my years at
Maxton Hall, no one has ever reprimanded me, not even the principal.
If I'm to have any hope of getting into Oxford, my record needs to be

clean, and James has jeopardized that with this stupid stunt. I won't let
my future be ruined by an idiot who has too much time and money and
no idea what to do with it.
– Idiotic idea, makes absolutely no sense. You are the last person
who should be held responsible for this. Kieran frowns angrily.
I smile at him gratefully and ignore Lin's pointed look. He's been telling
me since the end of last school year that Kieran is hopelessly in love
with me. But that's nonsense. He's just a nice friend.
I clear my throat.
– So, shall we begin?
The others nod. They point to the board where Lin wrote
individual points to be discussed at today's meeting.
– Let's start with Friday's party: what went well and what didn't?
Except for Beaufort's prank, of course. Camille, can you take the minutes?
Camille glares at me, but then opens her notebook and reaches for a
pen. Lin recounts her impressions of the party and I discreetly glance at
my watch. It's a few minutes past two. The lunch break is over.
So Beaufort will be arriving any minute now. There's a new feeling in my

stomach. Anxiety and nervousness, as if I was… excited.
I immediately push the thought away and join the conversation.
Feedback and formulating things to do in the future take so much time
that we postpone the next items on the agenda until the end of the week.
We divide the tasks and the meeting ends. Everyone leaves, leaving only
Lin and me in the room. We still have to write an apology.
James Beaufort didn't show up for two and a half hours.

After the letter is edited and sent to Lexington, we part ways. Lin goes
to the car. She lives near the school, but there is no bus in that direction,
so last summer her mother bought her a used bus.
auto.
I live half an hour from Maxton Hall. Gormsey, with its dilapidated
houses and rough streets, is by no means elegant, but I like living there.
Even the daily bus journey to Pemwick, where Maxton Hall is located, is
no problem. On the contrary, these are some of the nicest moments of
the entire day. While driving, I'm neither the Ruby who doesn't tell anyone
about her family, nor the one who hides the events at school from her
loved ones at home. Then I'm just... myself.
On the way to the bus stop, I pass the field where the lacrosse team is
training. As I pass by, I glance at the players running around the pitch in
full gear. I immediately notice a player wearing a shirt with the number 17
on it.
I stop abruptly. And then I go to the fence and stick my fingers into the
meshes of the net.
Dude is unbelievable.
I stare open-mouthed at Beaufort as he passes the ball while running
Cyril. I can hear his idiotic laugh even from here.
What a... What an... asshole!
At that exact moment, Beaufort turns and notices me. He's wearing a
helmet, so I can't see his face, but I can see his posture changing. He
stiffens, lifts his chin almost aggressively.
Damn idiot! The roar of a school bus engine sounds behind me. Despite
the heat rising in my stomach, I take my eyes off James and go to the bus
stop.
Let him do whatever he wants.
OceanofPDF.com
Ruby
Ember reads my application to Oxford and I trace her name in gold marker on the calendar.
Now the provision that Ember will review my essay looks much more elegant. – A keen interest
in politics, ranging from
philosophical attitudes to more practical economic aspects, proves that philosophy, politics
and economics are the ideal field of study for me. It combines all the fields I am interested in,
and I am looking forward to the time when I will be able to explore the most important issues
from the point of view of today's society, because Oxford will give me such a chance - my
sister reads aloud. Suddenly he stops. He takes the pen out of his mouth, rolls onto his
stomach and looks at me.
I hold my breath.
Ember smiles. I pick up one of her platform sandals from the floor and throw it at her.
“I'm begging you,” I whisper. It's two in the morning, we should have been sleeping a long
time ago. But I had only finished writing this essay a few minutes ago, and since my sister is a
night owl anyway and often works on her blog until the morning, I went to her room and asked
her to read it.
“A little snooty,” she replies quietly and slurred because she's put the pen back in her mouth.
– This is how it should be.

– Very braggart. As if you wanted to show off what you already know and how much
you have read professional literature.
– That's how it should be. – I get up and go to her.
He mutters something under his breath and marks a few places with a pencil.
“I think you should cross this out,” he says and hands me the piece of paper.
– You don't have to suck up to them and keep telling them that you're applying
for a place at Oxford. They know what their names are. You don't have to repeat
it twenty times.
I'm blushing up to my ears.
- You're right. – I take the letter from her and put it on the desk along with the
notebook. – You're a real treasure, thank you very much.
Ember smiles.
- No problem. Besides, you know how you can repay me.
It's always been like this between us. One does something for the other and
makes a wish, which the sister fulfills, as a result of which she, in turn, asks for
a favor again. It is a barter system, an eternal exchange of services. Although
honestly, the coolest thing about it all is that we help each other.
– Wal.
“You could finally take me to one of your parties,” she says with mock
casualness.
And I stiffen.
This isn't the first time Ember has asked me to do this, and each time I have
to disappoint her anew. Because he's asking me for the one thing I can't agree
to.
I will never forget the open day at Maxton Hall, where my parents showed up
to introduce themselves to the teachers and meet my close friends. That was a
nightmare. Apart from the fact that the main building of our school is several
hundred years old and there is much to be said about it, but certainly not that it
is a building without barriers, I still remember the contemptuous looks of other
participants of that meeting. Mom and Dad got ready, but that day I found out
that elegance as defined by the Bells has nothing to do with elegance as defined
by Maxton Hall. The other parents showed up in well-tailored Beaufort costumes
and suits, and my dad wore jeans and a baggy jacket. Mom put on a dress,
although beautiful, but still covered with flour from the bakery, which we noticed
only when the old lady gave her a contemptuous look and turned to her
companion to comment maliciously.
It still breaks my heart when I remember the pain on my mother's face, even
though she tried to mask it with an artificial smile. Or proudly
Dad's head was raised when he once again failed to get over the threshold in
his wheelchair and had to ask my mother and me for help.
They both tried not to let it show, but I could see how much it hurt their upturned
noses and the wandering glances of the other parents.
That day I decided that from now on I would function in two worlds: family
and school, and I would do everything to keep them apart. My parents are not
part of the British elite, and that's a good thing. I will never put them in such an
awkward situation again. They've been through enough after their dad's boating
accident, and the Maxton Hall swamp is the last thing they need to worry about.
The same goes for Ember. My sister is like a firefly, my own

Due to his personality and openness, he attracts widespread attention.
I know exactly what can happen at Maxton Hall, I've seen first-hand what
the students there are capable of just because they think the world is theirs.
The stories I've heard in the women's bathroom over the past two years have
made my stomach churn more than once. This cannot happen to Ember. I
want the best for my sister. And this certainly cannot be said about my school
and its students.
– You know perfectly well that outsiders are not allowed at school events – I
answer a little too late.
“Something like that, and last weekend Maisie was at your school's opening
party,” Ember replies dryly. – She said it was spectacular.
– So she slipped in stealthily, without the security guards knowing. Besides,

I already told you it was a total flop.
Ember frowns.
– According to Maisie, quite the opposite.
I press my lips into a thin line and close the calendar.
– Have mercy, Ruby! How long do you want to keep me locked up?
I promise I'll be good. Really. I'll pretend I'm one
z was.
Her words are like a blow to the heart. It hurts me that she thinks I don't
want to take her there because I'm afraid she'll embarrass me. My throat
tightens painfully when I see her hopeful look.
“I'm sorry, but it's impossible,” I reply quietly.
In a split second, rage takes the place of hope.

– You're terrible, you know that?
"Man…"
– Tell me honestly, you just don't want me on your damn place
party! – he says reproachfully.
I am unable to answer. I can't lie and the truth would be too painful.
“If you knew what was going on at that school, you wouldn't want to go
there,” I say in a whisper.
- You know what? If you ever want something in the middle of the night
again, turn to your wonderful school friends, he hisses. Then he pulls the
blanket over his head and turns to face the wall.
I try to ignore the painful throbbing in my chest. Without a word
I pick up my notebook and the magazine from the desk, turn off the light and go back to my room.
The next day I'm barely alive and need more foundation than usual to
cover the dark circles under my eyes. After the fight with Ember, I couldn't
sleep. I tossed and turned most of the night. Lin, of course, as usual, notices
that something is wrong, but he thinks that the Beaufort thing and the party
disaster are still bothering me. I'm not dissuading her.
After school I go straight to the library. I want to use the half hour before
the next meeting to return the borrowed books and pick up a few more that
haven't been available recently.
The library is my favorite place in Maxton Hall. I spend most of my time
here.
The high vaulted ceiling and open gallery make it tempting, despite the
dark wood shelves. From the very threshold you can feel the friendly
atmosphere of hard work; It's impossible not to feel good here. Not to mention
the huge book collection that we have at our fingertips. There is not a single
book in the tiny library in Gormsey that I could read when writing my essay
for Oxford, and here I was initially unable to decide where to start. I sat all
day in my favorite corner by the window, firstly because it's the only place in
Maxton Hall where I feel good, and secondly because they don't lend home
hundred-year-old volumes. Sometimes, when I sit here, I wish I could stay
forever, not just until the end
lesson. For me, this is a taste of what awaits in Oxford. The difference is that the local
library, if the website is to be believed, is even larger and better equipped. And open 24
hours a day.
It takes me a lot of time to go through the literature recommended on the university
website. Many of these books are very complicated and sometimes I have to read a
paragraph several times before I understand it. But I also enjoy it. I've developed a new
habit. After reading each book, I make notes in a small notebook, separate for each book,
writing down the content and my thoughts about it.
I'm lucky, three books I was particularly interested in are available. I borrow them and
go to the room where the committee meeting will be held. I'm a bit early, but thanks to this
I'll have time to write down the meeting agenda items on the board and organize my notes.
Since we spent so much time on Monday discussing Friday's party, we need to hurry
today.
I press the books to my chest with one hand and open the door with the other. I place a
stack of textbooks on the table, but before I can put down my backpack, I run my fingers
along the spine of Arend's Patterns of Democracy by Lijphart.
“We're looking forward to a weekend together,” I whisper.
Someone snorts contemptuously. I turn around abruptly. At the same moment, my
backpack slips off my shoulder and falls to the floor with a thud.
James stands on the opposite side of the room, by the window, with his arms crossed over
his chest. He looks at me with raised eyebrows.
– It's a bit pathetic, don't you think?
It takes me a while to get myself together.
– What's pathetic? – I ask, picking up my backpack from the floor and placing it on the
table next to the books. When I fell, the hole at the bottom got bigger.
I curse in my mind. I'll have to ask Ember for help sewing it up. – That you spend the
weekend
reading books. I can think of better ones
ways of spending free time.
- What are you doing here? – I answer, unimpressed. I ignore his attention.
-Didn't you hear what Lexington said? I have to learn to bear the consequences of my
actions - he quotes the director's words with an ironic smile.
I open my backpack and take out a calendar, a pencil case and a binder with notes
on the work of the committee.
– And suddenly you decided to do everything he told you?
James stops in front of me, his expression unreadable. I can't tell you what he's thinking
right now.
– I didn't have much of a choice, did I?
I look at him skeptically.
– I think you had it the day before yesterday.
He just shrugs. The coach was probably angry with him when he found out he was at
training. And he feels so good.
– I'm here today, okay? Enjoy it. – As he says these words, he bends down and picks up
something from the floor – a felt-tip pen. I think it fell out of the backpack.
He hands it to me. The gesture seems almost friendly. I clear my throat and think frantically
about what to say next.
“Your punishment is only for one semester, James,” I point out. This is the first time I've
called him by his name.
Suddenly his facial expression changes. Suddenly I no longer feel like he doesn't notice
me, now he's looking straight at me. There is a fire in his eyes that ignites me, makes me
shiver. I feel excitement building in my stomach. James looks away abruptly, turns on his
heel, walks to the window.
– Which doesn't change the fact that I don't like it very much.
My heart is pounding like crazy, I have a hard time swallowing when I hold my hands
folded across his chest, he sinks into a chair and stares out the window.
I don't really know what he means. Is it because he can't play lacrosse? Or is it that he
needs to be here now? Or maybe it's just about me. But I can deal with it.
The stakes are too high for me to allow one spoiled panic attacker to throw me off
balance. We have to get through this, together, and the sooner we come to terms with it,
the easier it will be for us to get through this time.
Without saying a word, I go to the board and write down the agenda for today's meeting.
My head is spinning because I don't know if James is looking at me or not, but my pride
won't let me look back.
Fortunately, a moment later the door opens.
“Jesus, I'm sorry, the printer at home went crazy and I had to print several times, but I
finally got it and…” Lin stops mid-sentence when he sees James.
“Hey,” he says nonchalantly.

I wonder if he greets everyone in the world the same way. He'll probably impress
his professors with this when he goes to Oxford for the admission interview.
– What is he doing here? – Lin asks me, not taking his eyes off James.
“He's serving a sentence,” I answer truthfully. James is silent. He bends down,
opens his bag and takes out his notebook. He puts it on the table in front of him. It is
black, bound in leather, and on the dust jacket there is a sweeping B, the Beaufort
company logo. It probably cost a fortune. We were once in the Beaufort department
store in London, looking for a new suit for my dad, because at that time he still often
had to appear in court due to accidents. I still remember the four-digit prices that
made us sneak away after two minutes, trying not to draw attention to ourselves.
At my side, Lin clears his throat significantly. Caught in the act, I tear my eyes
away from James and curse the wave of heat that floods my cheeks once again.
Fortunately, Lin is tactful enough not to comment on it.
- Please. – He hands me a plastic sleeve with a stack of cards. – My essay.

I take out my binder and hand it to her.
– And this is mine. But it's not perfect yet.
“Neither does mine,” he replies. – That's why we have to read them.
Do you think you'll be able to visit him this evening?
- Of course. We'll talk about them tomorrow, during the free hour after math. – I
immediately reach for my gold marker and write down: read and correct Lin's essay.
– I'm honored that you wrote my name with a special marker –

Lin says quietly and smiles.
I respond in kind and go back to writing the meeting agenda on the board, while
other committee members enter the room.
Everyone discreetly watches James, except Camille, who greets him with kisses on
both cheeks.
When everyone has arrived, we start the meeting.
“Today's highlight is the second big event of the school year,” Lin begins, and suddenly
her face lights up. -Halloween.
Kieran wails shrilly like a ghost and everyone smirks.

“Last year's masquerade ball was very warmly received,” Lin continues, and
pulls up a slideshow of the event from last year on his laptop.
He turns the computer around so we can all see the photos.
– Can't we do it again? If it turned out so well? – says Camille. – It would save
us a lot of work.
- No way. – Lin looks at her indignantly, to which Camille shrugs. Meanwhile,
I stand on the right side of the board, still empty, and in the middle I write:
Halloween. I circle the word.
“We have to come up with a theme for the party today,” Lin says. – Let's start
brainstorming, shall we?
At first there is silence.
“I only know what I don't want,” Jessalyn finally says.
– Go ahead. This will also limit our choice - I assure her and with a gesture I
encourage her to talk.
– God forbid the color orange. The black and orange decorations look like something
from a five-year-old's party, and that doesn't suit Maxton Hall at all.
I nod wordlessly and write in the upper right corner of the board: tasteful
decorations.
– How about black-and-white? - Doug suggests. He is the most silent member
of our team, he almost never speaks, so I am positively surprised by his
commitment. I smile and turn to the board.
– Black-and-white is a tired concept.

The room falls silent as if it had been sown.
I turn around slowly. James leans back in his chair, his slack tight
contrasts with the tension that appeared among us out of nowhere.
- I'm listening? – Lin says what's on the tip of my tongue.
“Black-and-white is a tired concept,” James repeats, as dryly as the first time.
“I understood right away,” Lin hisses.

He looks at her with raised eyebrows.
– Then I didn't understand the question.

– This is a brainstorming session, Beaufort. We exchange ideas, write
them all down, do not comment, so that we can come up with the best
solution thanks to spontaneous concepts - I explain as calmly as I can.
“I know what brainstorming is, Bell,” he replies, jerking his chin toward the
board. – And I'm telling you, nothing will come of it.
– Says the guy who thinks there's no way to have fun without a striptease
– Kieran mutters under his breath. –
I only brought them because I knew your party would be hopeless.
Even though everyone is silent, I can sense that the atmosphere in the
room is getting thicker by the moment. Apart from Camille, everyone is
glaring at James with fury, although he doesn't seem to be impressed at all.
He raises an eyebrow and looks around.
– Mercy. I guess you noticed it yourself.
– If you really think so, you're seriously screwed – replies Kieran,
and Jessalyn nods vigorously.
– Listen, pull yourself together. – I have to take action. The corners of
James' mouth twitch suspiciously. I aim my pen at him like a gun. - There is
nothing to laugh about. We planned this party for half of the summer. She
wasn't hopeless.
He leans forward and leans his elbows on the table.
– Debatable.
I'm afraid a vein in my temple will burst at any moment.
– Is that so?
He nods.
– And why, if I may ask? – Lin joins in with a suspiciously sweet voice. I
know that tone. It doesn't portend anything good and gives me goosebumps.
James raises his hand and counts on his fingers.

– The buffet looked tacky. The music sucked. There was no strict dress
code, and the relaxed atmosphere appeared much too late.
I can literally feel Lin starting to tremble next to me. If we were alone, I
would jump at James' throat for saying that. We put into it
taking so much effort that it's not fair to completely devalue them. Especially since it's not
true. But as the chairwoman of the committee, I have to remain calm. And it must be
admitted that not everything went according to plan, we came to this conclusion ourselves
during Monday's meeting.
– I agree when it comes to music – I admit calmly. – It wasn't perfect, but people danced
anyway, so it couldn't be a complete failure.
– What were they supposed to do at the party? But the atmosphere wasn't as good as
it could have been with decent music.
Three years ago, while still at my old school, I attended classes on negotiation in
conflict situations. For five days we learned conflict resolution methods. I don't remember
everything anymore, but one thing remains in my mind; everyone must be given the
feeling that they have been heard and the energy that would lead to arguments must be
turned into something positive.
With that thought in mind, I take a deep breath and look James straight in the eyes.
– I accept your criticism and take it to heart. However, this does not change the fact
that we are currently looking for a theme for this year's Halloween party. I think Doug had
a cool idea, and I'll write it down now. Like all the others, so that at the end of today's
meeting we can decide what suits us and what doesn't. – With these words, I turn to the
board and write: black-and-white. Then I look at the people gathered again. – Any more
ideas?
- Yes. - Jessalyn raises her hand as if she had a brilliant idea. – Classic elegance with
a touch of menace. Candles, black flowers. A modern version of the traditional Halloween
party.
I write everything down carefully.
– Equally boring.
“Beaufort, if you don't have anything constructive to say, shut up,” Lin snaps.
“The black and red vampire ball,” Kieran suggests.

“Hopeless,” James comments.
I can take it, I really can. And I won't stick a pen in his eye.
– What's hopeless is that you keep bashing our ideas – says Jessalyn – but you don't
propose anything yourself. Come up with something instead of just spreading negative
energy around.
James straightens and looks at his notebook. I doubt it's in it

at least one word related to planning a Halloween party.
– I suggest a Victorian ball. Weston Hall is the perfect place. You can rent
original tableware from the era, punch bowls, lace napkins and so on. Preferably
black. The main light source would be, as in those times, candles, which would
provide an amazing atmosphere.
Of course, we have to be careful not to set the entire school on fire, but with appropriate security
it should be possible to do it. The dress code would be period-specific, decadent and elegant.
We know plenty of Halloween games from the Victorian era. They could be incorporated into the
course of the evening.
When he finished, there was a long silence.

“That's… a really great idea,” I say hesitantly.
There's a twinkle in his eyes as he looks at me.
– I thought we only wrote down and didn't comment?
I escape his gaze and write the idea on the board.
“I read somewhere that in the 19th century, cakes were baked for such events
with five different objects hidden in them,” Kieran says. – Whoever found one of
them could count on great luck in the coming year. We could modernize it and
come up with a reward for anyone who finds something.
– But you have to warn everyone. We don't want anyone to choke.

Camille notices and wrinkles her nose.
– What about music? - Jessalyn asks.
– Maybe a slightly mixed classic? - I propose.
– Let's hope these aren't your weird remixes of classics, electro and dubstep.
– Lin sighs loudly.
– Hey! They're not that bad at all. Plus, they help me concentrate. – Everyone
gathered looks at me skeptically. I look pleadingly at Kieran, who in most cases
shares my taste in music. – Please, tell them.
– You can find some pretty good remixes of Victorian music.

I heard something like this recently.
I smile gratefully and silently whisper, “Send me the link.”
“I think an orchestra would be better,” James notes. – And the ball should
start with a previously practiced dance.
The crowd murmurs in agreement, and I feel a little sick.
I can't dance at all.
“Look, you're talking like you've already made up your mind,” Lin remarks,
sounding as surprised as I am at this moment. Points to the board. – I would
still like to vote. Who is in favor of the black-and-white theme?
Nobody.
– Who's in favor of classic chic?

Nobody.
– Who's behind the vampire ball?

And again, no one comes forward.
– How about a Victorian ball? – I interject. I'm not even finishing this question
and already four people are raising their hands. James looks stupid for a
moment, but then he raises his hand.
I didn't expect such a turn of events at the committee meeting.
I glance at Lin with raised eyebrows.
– So we've chosen a theme for this year's Halloween party
w Maxton Hall.
OceanofPDF.com
James
Percy parked the Rolls-Royce at the school's main entrance. He stands next
to the car, leaning against the door, with his cell phone in one hand and his
hat in the other. There seem to be more gray strands in his dark hair every
day. When he sees me, he immediately puts his phone in his pocket, puts his
hat on his head and straightens up. In fact, he doesn't have to do it at all, and
he knows it.
I run down the stairs. Everyone gets out of my way. Apparently I look as bad as I feel.
And it's all the fault of the damn organizing committee! I already wish I could have just kept
my mouth shut and kept the Victorian ball idea to myself.
Just thinking about the to-do list they put together later makes me feel sick. If I were
organizing this party at my home, I would let the servants take care of everything and I wouldn't
even have to lift a finger. But in this case, I am the servant, as Ruby made clear to me.
Just the thought that I still have a whole semester of such sessions ahead
of me makes me want to howl. Not to mention that it drives me crazy knowing
that I can't participate in training. This is definitely not how I imagined my last
year of school would be.
I get to the car. I would love to just fall into the backseat, but before I can
get in, Percy grabs my arm.
– You don't look well.
"Really, Percy, what a sense of observation."
He looks anxiously between me and the car door.
– Maybe it would be wiser if you curbed your emotions. Miss Beaufort isn't
in the best of shape.
In a split second I forget about this whole idiotic organizing committee.
- What happened?
Percy hesitates, as if he doesn't know how much he can tell me. Finally, she
takes a step towards me and says
quietly, "She was just talking to someone." With a young man. It looked like
an argument.
I nod. Percy holds the door for me as I get into the car.
Thank God for tinted windows. Lydia looks terrible. Her eyes and nose are
red, smeared mascara streaks her cheeks with gray streaks.
She's never cried as much as she has in the past weeks, and I'm going crazy
at the thought of seeing her in such a condition and at the same time not being able to help her.
We have always been inseparable. In a family like ours, there is simply no
other option. I can only remember a few days in my entire life when I didn't see
my twin sister.
Whenever he's in bad shape, I feel a strange pressure in my chest.
She experiences the same thing. My mother explained that something like this
often happens among twins, and already in early childhood she made us
promise that we would cherish this bond throughout our lives and would not do
anything to break it.
- What is? I ask as Percy starts the engine.
He doesn't answer.
– Lydia…
“It's none of your business,” he hisses.
I just raise an eyebrow and watch her until she looks away to the window.
Apparently that's the end of the conversation.
I, too, lean back and stare at the scenery outside the window.
Colorful trees pass behind the glass so quickly that they merge into one
streak. Percy could go slower. Not only because the thought of going home
makes me feel sick, but also, and perhaps especially, so that I can have more
time to break Lydia's silence.
I would like to help her, but I have no idea how. Over the past weeks, I've tried
everything to find out what happened between her and Sutton, but she
immediately changes the subject. Actually, this shouldn't surprise me. It's true,
we are inseparable, but never
we talk about our love life. There are some things a man shouldn't know about his own
sister, and vice versa.
But this time it's different. She is devastated, I have only seen her in this condition
once so far, two years ago. Back then it almost destroyed our family.
“Graham is crazy,” he says suddenly, when I wasn't even counting on it.

I turn to her and wait to see what else she says.
Once again, my anger towards this asshole wells up inside me, but I don't let it out. I
don't want Lydia to back out again. He does it often enough anyway.
"I'm so afraid that Ruby will tell Lexington," she whispers hoarsely through her nose.
– He won't do it.
- Where do you get that confidence? – I see the same skepticism in her eyes
Ruby, how I felt when I talked to her for the first time.
– Because I keep an eye on her all the time – I answer after a long moment.
Lydia doesn't seem convinced.
“You can't follow her every move, James.
– And I don't have to. He is on the organizing committee.
Lydia looks at me in surprise. I smile crookedly. It's good to see her tension ease,
even just a little. He speaks only after a long moment.
– I completely forgot about this matter with the organizing committee.

Does this really piss you off?
I just snort.
– Have you talked to dad yet? – he asks carefully.
I shake my head and look out the window just as the Rolls-Royce stops. In front of
us, the facade of our residence soars into the sky, and the billowing clouds are a perfect
reflection of my mood and what awaits me today.
***
– How would you describe me in three words? – Alistair's voice drowns out the music
coming from the speakers.
He is sitting on the couch, leaning over his cell phone. Blond hair
they fall on his forehead as he stares intently at the display.
I prepared us a gin and tonic and I'm going back to my friend's. Alistair
doesn't look up, reaches out and takes the glass of drink.
This is already the third round and I finally feel the pleasant buzz in my
head that I have been waiting for from the beginning. It will help me forget
that the others are at lacrosse practice right now. And above all, I will forget
the memory of the past two hours. My father's voice is now just a soft murmur.
– How about: pathetically horny asshole?

Alistair smirks to himself.
– Actually, it's true. But with a bit of modesty I will go further.
I fall onto the couch next to him with a laugh. I can't shake the feeling that he had
already had a few drinks when I texted him and asked if he could come over. Apparently,
the fact that he too was suspended was not as painless as he is trying to make us all
believe.
Anyway, he burst into my room and announced from the doorway that
from today he would stay away from the guys at Maxton Hall and would
focus on online dating instead. He said it with a smile, as if he didn't take the
matter seriously and wanted to set up a profile just because he was bored.
But I know him enough to know that this is a really serious matter for him.
He's fed up with the boys from Maxton Hall because they only meet him in
secret. Unlike most of them, Alistair has been open about his sexual
orientation for two years, much to the dismay of his hopeless parents, who
have since treated him like a pariah. So if he finds someone online who
doesn't make him feel like a dirty secret, I'll keep my fingers crossed for him.
Especially since now thanks to him I can forget about my own problems.
– And does it have to be exactly three words? - I'm asking. He shakes his
head. – So we write: cool, lacrosse, athletic, looking for an intriguing friend,
blah, blah, blah.
He smiles crookedly.
– Of course, blah, blah, blah and everything is clear.
I move closer, a bit of the gin and tonic spilling from my glass into my hand. I swear
loudly, wipe my hand on my pants, and look at Alistair's phone. I see the first words entered
into his profile and I burst out laughing.
- Come on? – he says aggressively.

– Dude, you're not one hundred and eighty-five centimeters tall
growth.
“And that's what I have,” he insists.

– Man, I'm six feet four and you're half a foot taller than me
head lower. Subtract ten centimeters and you will be closer to the truth.
He pokes me in the side. I pour alcohol on my hand again.
– Don't be such a pompous ass.
– All right, all right. – I take three large sips from the glass and set it on the
table. And then I take the computer from the table, lift the lid and look for relatively
reasonable profiles.
I was right to invite Alistair today. He asked his father to drop him off, and
since he showed up, he took my mind off unpleasant matters without asking a
single uncomfortable question.
“Oh God,” I mutter.
Alistair gives me a questioning look and leans over my computer screen.
I turn it towards him.

– I was looking for inspiration for your profile, but now I regret clicking on this
link. I beg you, who writes such things? "I'd love to do it with my twin brother, but
since I'm an only child, you have to be enough for me."
Alistair snickers.
– I also had the urge. I'll just write: eighteen years old, lacrosse, open to
everything.
- Not old. – I shake my head vigorously. – “Open to Everything” is begging for
weird suggestions from freaks.
In response, his friend just shrugs. A few minutes later, he says, still leaning
over the phone screen: - Elaine asked about you.
I raise an eyebrow in question but don't say anything. This is the first time
since Wren's party that Alistair brings this up. I can't judge by his
voice, whether it's supposed to be a serious conversation or not.

– She's worried about your young, sensitive heart and asked if you think about
her often.
Thank God, definitely not seriously.
– Sure – I answer ironically. I don't think Elaine gave a single thought to our
night together. Sooner, Alistair can't forget about her, because sleeping with his
sister awakened his brotherly instinct.
“I still can't wrap my head around you going to bed with my sister.”
- He shakes his head and grimaces in disgust. -Can't you at least get engaged to
her? Then it would probably be easier for me to come to terms with it.
I laugh and pat him on the shoulder.
– Listen, even if I get engaged to someone, it won't be so that you can sleep
peacefully.
He sighs with comic sadness. And then he shoves the phone under my nose.
– Then at least help me choose a photo.
He shows me two. In one, he is shirtless, with his hands clasped behind his
head, the other, black and white, is a selfie in the mirror. In this photo he is wearing
a suit.
“On the bed,” I decide. – You're wearing too many clothes there.
– I like your approach, Beaufort.
Thus, the topic of Elaine is fortunately closed. I'm going for a refill of gin and
tonic. We toast and Alistair returns to his profile while I half-heartedly scroll through
my emails.
I stiffen when I see the invitation sent from the Beaufort office address.
Despite myself, I open the message. It is very laconic:
Next Friday, 7 p.m., dinner with the management in London. Do not be late.
My good mood disappears in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, an icy chill runs
through me, bringing back memories of today's argument with my father.
You bring us shame.

We have a certain reputation.
Stupid, childish puppy.
I'm angry with myself for cringing as he walked towards me with his hand raised.
I should have known better: Mortimer Beaufort shows neither weakness nor fear in
his presence.
This dinner is another part of the punishment. He knows perfectly well that this will hurt
me more painfully than his words or times would. We have an unwritten agreement: as long
as I attend Maxton Hall, I'll be left alone with everything related to the company. The fact
that I have to attend this dinner is a reminder.
As if he wanted to tell me: I decide about your life and if you don't get your act together,
your freedom will end sooner than you think.
Nervous, I take my laptop off my lap and approach the bar. I pour myself a glass of
whiskey and stare at the amber liquid for a moment.
And then I turn around and go back to the couch, glass in hand.
Alistair is watching me. There wasn't even a trace of a smile left on his face.
- Everything's all right?

I shrug in response. I wanted Alistair to come to me to forget about the matter with his
father, not to talk about it.
Alistair doesn't insist. Instead, he hands me his cell phone.

– I found the ideal. – There is a photo of a muscular brunette on the display.
I slide down in the seat so that I can rest my head on the backrest.
– What did he write about
himself? – That he is looking for someone who will take care of his heart. And a bird.
– The pinnacle of creativity.
- Exactly. And besides… Just now he sent me a photo of his bird. Dude, maybe you
could tell me your name first before you show me your genitals? – Alistair mutters under
his breath and I laugh despite myself.
That's one of the reasons why he's one of my closest friends.

If I wanted, I could talk to him about what's constantly pounding in my ears like a jammed
tape. I can talk to him about anything, but I don't have to. We've known each other for so
long that we understand each other without words and respect each other's boundaries,
but that doesn't mean we don't violate them sometimes. I don't believe I will ever have such
a friendship again.
- Are you hungry? – I ask after some time.
Alistair nods yes. I call the kitchen. After the fight with my father, my appetite was
completely gone and now my stomach is in knots.
While we wait for them to bring us something, Alistair looks through photos
of half-naked guys and I check the blog list on my laptop. Apart from lacrosse
websites and my friends' blogs, I've been mainly interested in travel blogs for
the last few months. Nothing helps break away from reality as effectively as
descriptions of distant countries and beautiful photographs. I'm marking new
posts to read later - I'm too drunk at the moment.
The school blog is also on my list. Actually, just for fun, but when I
mechanically glance at the editorial footer, Ruby's face suddenly appears in
my mind. My stomach does somersaults. I don't know: hunger, alcohol or
maybe a completely different reason.
My index finger, despite myself, finds the mouse button.
I'm opening a blog.
I browse through posts about school events, all of them boring; I look at
the articles - incredibly reproductive; I look at the photos and keep looking
for Ruby's face. Although her name appears on many posts and she is often
mentioned during reports from school events, she is not in a single
photograph. Right after Lydia told me that Ruby had caught her and Sutton
in the act, I searched the Internet for her, wanting to learn as much as I could
about her. And nothing. He does not have an account on any social
networking site: neither Facebook, nor Instagram, nor Twitter, at least not
under his own name.
Ruby Bell to duch.

I keep scrolling. I've already looked through the entire last school year and
still haven't found what I'm looking for. Although I don't know what it is. The
longer I do this, the angrier I get. Why the hell can't I find anything about her?
– Are you browsing the school blog? – Alistair asks suddenly. Caught red-
handed, I raise my head. Alistair looks at my laptop screen in disgust. But
when he sees what I typed into the little search box, he suddenly brightens.
– Ah, so that's it.
– How?
He smiles wider.
– Let me just tell the boys.
I forcefully close my computer.
– There's nothing to tell.

His answer is preceded by a knock on the door and our maid, Mary,
enters the room. He introduces a table on wheels, bending under the
weight of food. I get up and on wobbly legs walk to the bar to pour
myself some whiskey. Now I want to forget not only my father's voice,
but also Ruby's confident expression.
OceanofPDF.com
10
Ruby
The pink note on the calendar seems to be mocking me. He reminds me to

ask Beaufort for Victorian period costumes. Unfortunately, I have no desire
to do so. I overdosed on James Beaufort this week and I'm ready for the
weekend. Ever since we chose the theme for this year's Halloween party, it
has become unbearable at our gatherings. Either he keeps making lame
comments or ignores us completely. And it wouldn't have mattered to me at
all if we hadn't decided yesterday that the poster advertising the event would
feature a couple in authentic period costumes. And the easiest way to get
such outfits quickly and, above all, without unnecessary costs, is to get to
the Beaufort family's warehouses.
After the committee meeting, Lin and I drew lots to decide which of us
would ask James for a favor. Of course I lost. Since then I've been trying to
figure out how to best handle this. Maybe I'll just email him. Then I wouldn't
have to ask him questions in front of witnesses, which would probably inspire
him to say more than one nasty word.
I vigorously close the calendar and put it back in my backpack.
“We can still switch,” Lin suggests and slings his backpack over his
shoulder. Then he takes my tray, puts it on top of his, and heads towards
the dirty dishes drop-off point.
For a moment I wonder what's worse: the meeting with Beaufort or
Lexington's hour-long lecture on fire safety.
- You know what? But no, Lin says as we walk towards the left
wings. – I withdraw the proposal. I don't want to switch.
- Pity. I would agree immediately.
The entire campus is shrouded in golden-red autumn light. The first leaves of
ancient oaks are already changing colors, saturated green turns into delicate
yellow and dark red.
– Come on, it won't be that bad.
– And this is coming from a person who shouted: "I won!" after drawing
it turned out that he had to go to a firefighting lecture - I note dryly.
She smiles, caught red-handed.
– I just can't digest it. You know, he's supposed to be one of us by the end of
the semester. He could at least try a little, right? Especially since the theme of
the ball was his idea.
- Yes. Unfortunately, it was a really good idea. – I hold my school ID against
the reader at the door until the green light turns on. I press the door handle and
let Lin go ahead.
We enter the science center, a small building used only by high school
seniors. Here you can write papers or study for exams in peace. Today, a
scientific group meets for the first time here to prepare for the next stages of
recruitment to Oxford.
“Oh,” Lin whispers as we enter the room. At the same moment I get all stiff.
Speak of the devil.
There are twenty seats in the room, but only a few are occupied. There are
Keshav, Lydia, Alistair, Wren, Cyril and... James. Plus two girls, a boy I only
know by sight, and a young woman, I guess, our coordinator. She's the only one
who greets us.
I take a seat as far away from Beaufort's pack as possible. Lin sits next to me.
I instinctively take out my calendar, markers and a new notebook that I bought
especially for these classes. I arrange it all on my desk; items must lie parallel to
the edge of the countertop. I do my best to pretend I don't notice them at all. I
don't want anything to do with James, and certainly not his friends. The thought
of having to deal with people like them when applying for a place at Oxford -
from filthy rich families who have studied at Oxford for generations - makes me
sick.
I don't know what Lin thinks about all this. Although she wasn't part of James'
gang, she had been moving in the same circles not so long ago, as she was
friends with Elaine Ellington and a few other girls
from the vintage above. But then her father left her mother for another woman,
who soon turned out to be a marriage fraud. Within a year, he lost all his fortune
because of it, which caused a huge scandal, and suddenly no one wanted to
have anything to do with the Wang family. Not in business, social or school
matters.
In order for Lin to continue her studies here, her mother had to sell the family
residence. They moved to a small cottage near Pemwick. It's true that they still
live in an area four times larger than us, but I imagine it must have been quite
a shock for Lin. She lost not only her family and the only life she had ever
known, but above all, her old friends.
Most of the time he doesn't let on that anything has happened. As if nothing
had happened. But sometimes I see longing in her eyes, which makes me think
that she misses her old life.
Especially when I see how sadly he looks at the empty seat next to Cyril.
I've been wondering for a long time whether they had something in common, but every time
I talk about it, Lin quickly changes it. I'm not surprised, because I don't really say anything
about myself either. Still, I can be very curious sometimes.
Almost reflexively, I shift my gaze to James. His friends are talking and seem
agitated, but he is sitting still. Wren says something to him, but James isn't
listening at all, I'm sure of it.
I wonder what thoughts make him look so gloomy.
– I'm very glad you're here – the host begins. I tear my eyes away from
James. – My name is Philippa Winfield, but call me Pippa. I'm currently in my
second semester of studies at Oxford, so quite recently I also had to overcome
a difficult recruitment process and I know perfectly well how you feel at the
moment.
Wren mutters something under his breath, and James laughs and tries to
hide it with a clear throat. They're probably commenting on Pippa's beauty.
With her dark blonde hair falling softly around her face and her flawless
complexion, she looks like a doll. A very beautiful, very expensive doll.
– Over the next few weeks, I will help you prepare for
Thinking Skills Assessment and for a job interview.
TSA, Thinking Skills Assessment, is a two-hour exam required for some
courses at Oxford. Thanks to it, university authorities can
assess whether the candidate has the critical thinking skills necessary to study there.
The exam is on my calendar shortly after Halloween, and I'm already dying of
fear whenever I think about the tasks ahead of me. For the next half an hour, Pippa
explains to us what it is and how much time we need for each part, although of
course I have known all this for a long time. I'm not interested in the structure of the
exam, I want to know how to pass it. Pippa seems to read my mind because at one
point she claps her hands.
– Now let's look at an example question that could be on the exam. When I was
preparing for my studies, talking to other candidates helped me a lot, because each
of us thinks differently, and someone else's point of view sometimes really opens
your eyes.
So I thought that's where we'd start. – He opens the binder, takes out a stack of
notes and hands them out to us. – On page two you will find the first question. You
– he points to Wren, who was whispering again – will read them aloud.
- With the greatest pleasure - replies the boy with a cheeky smile, then lifts the
paper and reads: - The first question is: does the fact that you can name the reasons
for your action mean that the action is rational?
Lin raises his hand.

“You don't have to come forward, it's supposed to be an open discussion,” Pippa
says and encourages her to speak.
– All actions are based on emotional reasons – my friend begins. – Although it is
always said that you should think everything through and make a reasonable choice
and not listen to your heart, but in the end our decisions are guided by emotions and
therefore are not rational.
“Here we have the shortest essay ever,” Alistair says, and his friends burst into
laughter. Everyone except James. He blinks rapidly, as if he had just woken up.
– This is a thesis that we can either develop or argue with, notes Pippa. – To
answer this
question, we must first define exactly what we mean by the term "rational" in this
context -
Lydia notes. She tucks a pen behind her ear and holds a piece of paper with a
question in her hand. I wonder what college he's going to.
“Rationality is thinking and acting based on reason,” Kesh mutters under
his breath.
– In this sense, rationality does mean reasonableness – I note. – But
reasonableness is subjective. How to define common sense when each
person is guided by different principles, values and ideology?
“Wait a minute, I guess we can assume that everyone has a more or less
similar value system,” Wren says.
I shrug halfheartedly.
– I guess it all depends on the environment you grow up in and who
surrounds you.
– Everyone knows from childhood that it is forbidden to kill other people and so on.
If we are all guided by these basic principles, they are objectively rational, he
replies.
“But not everything can be reduced to the basics,” Lin interjects.
– So if I did something that will destroy me, even though I know it is based
on the right values, I made a rational choice? – Lydia speaks up again. I look
at her in surprise, but she stubbornly stares at the note with the question.
“If that's reasonable to you, yes,” I answer after a long moment. – Thus,
we can clearly see how much the value systems of individual people can
differ. I would never willingly do anything in my life that could destroy me.
– Is my definition, my understanding of reason, less valuable than yours?

– Lydia suddenly seems furious. The white of her cheeks disappears under
the red spots.
– I just wanted to say that, in my opinion, there can be no question of
rational action if its consequence is someone's suffering, regardless of
whether it is mine or someone else's. But that's just my opinion.
– And your opinion is obviously more important than others, right?
I look up at James in surprise. He said it so quietly that I didn't hear him at
first. He no longer seems to be thinking elsewhere. He is right here and now,
piercing me with his icy gaze.
I grip the pen with all my might.

– This question is not about me, but about the general assumption that everyone
thinks and acts differently.
“Let's say I sneakily bring strippers into the party to lighten the mood and
give the guests a nice surprise,” James says slowly. – Based on your
understanding, it was a rational decision.
I'm about to break my pen in half.
– It was not a rational decision, it was immoral and stupid.
– I would advise you to avoid such words in your essay and during a job interview
words, Pippa interjects.
“You're making a distinction we're not talking about right now,” James replies
coldly. – Suppose you have two job offers.
In one you earn more, but in the other you can fulfill yourself.
A rational choice would mean choosing a better-paid job.
– Only if we equate reason with materialism, which is exactly what it is
in your case, no one should be surprised.
Suddenly I'm filled with energy, it feels like there's no one else in the room
except James and me.
He raises an eyebrow.
– First of all, you don't know me at all. Secondly, choosing a better-paid job
is a rational decision.
– Why, if I may ask?
He looks me straight in the eye.
– Because no one in the whole world will pay attention to you if you don't
have money.
After his words, I remember the worn soles of my shoes and my backpack
falling apart. I feel furious. I'm losing my temper.
– It's obvious who raised you.

– What does that mean? – he asks in a suspiciously calm voice.
I shrug.
– When people are told from childhood that without money, no one will pay
attention to them, it's no wonder that in your understanding common sense
means wealth. I actually feel sorry for you.
I see a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"You better not say anything more, Ruby."
– At Oxford you won't be able to order everyone left and right. Maybe
start getting used to opposition or come to terms with the idea that they may
not accept you. Which in your case shouldn't be a big problem, however it
is, you have money and the whole world is paying attention to you.
James flinches like I've slapped him. The room is deathly silent. All I can
hear is my racing pulse and the ringing in my ears.
The next moment, James stands up so vigorously that he overturns his
chair and it falls to the floor with a loud bang. I hold my breath as he leaves
the room in long strides and slams the door behind him.
Suddenly I come back to reality. James' friends exchange anxious
glances, as if they themselves didn't quite know what had just happened.
Shock appears on Lydia's face.
A cold chill runs through me. I feel the wave of adrenaline slowly subside,
and I realize what I just said.
So much for staying out of the way. I turned an academic discussion into
a personal matter because James upset me. He was right in what he said.
I really don't know him. And I have no right to accuse him of such things
just because he acts like an idiot. Then I'm no better than him.
What the hell bit me?
OceanofPDF.com
11
James
I must admit that the pattern on my card looks impressive. Sharp black swirls,
small spirals and circles seem almost three-dimensional.
You just need to reach out your hand to immerse yourself in the image.
Every time I am surprised by what comes out of my scribbles. And how
effectively it allows me to escape from reality - for example, forget about the
fact that my boys are standing on the pitch a few hundred meters away, getting
ready for next weekend's match. Or that I have to spend exactly one hour and
eleven more minutes in this room.
– James!
I lift my head. All the members of the organizing committee are staring at
me.
– So?
– He didn't even listen to you! - Jessalyn shouts indignantly and looks at
Ruby as if it was her fault that I didn't feel like going to these boring meetings.
"Then I'll ask again," Ruby replies calmly and looks at me from across the
table. – We need costumes to be photographed for the poster. There is a
costume rental shop in Gormsey, but at first glance it is clear that these are
not period originals, but shoddy imitations.
–Gormsey? – I ask, amazed.
“I live there,” he replies slowly.
– I've never heard of this place in my life.
I find myself wondering what house he lives in. What her parents look like.
Does he have any siblings? Over things that shouldn't interest me at all.
– At the last meeting, we agreed that we wanted the photo to be as authentic

as possible. It's not that easy to find good outfits. But
Beaufort has been around for over a hundred and fifty years, right? Ruby
takes the trouble to speak politely to me, but it doesn't change the fact that
I feel the all-too-familiar chill running through my veins. I know what's coming
next. – Do you think you could ask your parents to lend us some pieces of
period clothing?
I would give anything to just keep scribbling in my notebook. Or be
somewhere else, like the lacrosse field. Nobody wants anything from me
there. There I can just run, attack, carry out actions, score goals and be
free. I can forget on the pitch. Here they remind me of who I am and what
my future will look like.
I clear my throat.
- Unfortunately not.
Judging by Ruby's expression, she expected this answer.
- All right. May I ask why?
- You can not.
“So, to put it another way, you just don't want to help us,” he says with
forced calm.
– I don't want to, I can't, it doesn't matter anyway. My answer remains the
same.
Her nostrils flare slightly as she tries to control herself. She doesn't quite
succeed and this sight cheers me up a bit. I try to ignore the fact that she's
really pretty. I've never seen a face like this before: the upturned nose
doesn't match the proud lips, the cat-like eyes don't match the freckles on
the nose, and the even bangs don't match the heart-shaped face.
But somehow it all comes together as a perfect whole.
Which I like more and more the more I see it.
I don't understand why I lost my temper yesterday. It wasn't the first time
someone accused me of being a rich, spoiled bastard. This wasn't the first
time Ruby herself had accused me of this. I don't know why her words hurt
me so much, but something happened to me, and I didn't like it at all. I don't
know this side of myself, neither I nor my friends. None of them asked about
yesterday's incident, although I hoped that I would have the opportunity to
turn it into a joke to ease the tension after that situation.
However, their silence and meaningful glances give Ruby's words more
meaning and weight.
Deep inside, I sigh. I wanted to enjoy my last year of school, damn it, not worry
about anyone or anything, I just wanted to have fun. Meanwhile, I can't play lacrosse,
I have to sit in this damn meeting in a stuffy room and hear Ruby say...
He snaps his fingers in my face.

- Sorry. – I rub my face with my hands. - What is?
– Jesus, listen, let's really leave him alone – he says
Kieran nervous.
– I would love to leave you alone, but unfortunately I have to put up with you until
the end of the semester – I reply and look at him with an icy look.
-James! – Ruby shouts indignantly.

- Come on? I'm telling the truth.
– Sometimes it's best to remain silent about the truth.
The retort "Who's talking" is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it.
I kind of like it when he talks to me like that. Which is probably due to the fact that I
haven't had a party with the boys for two weeks and I have accumulated too much
energy. I need something to occupy my mind. As discreetly as possible, I take my
phone out of my pants pocket and send a message to our group. Party today at my
place.
“Let's get these costumes from the rental store,” Lin decides. – We will photoshop
them and they will look like from the era.
Kieran snorts contemptuously.
- No sense. After all, James Beaufort is on our committee.
– If James won't help us, I'll have to come up with this one myself
a request to his parents' company, says Ruby.
“You won't do that,” I say reflexively, staring at the phone screen. Alistair is writing
about how hopeless the new players are and that the coach will lose his temper at
any moment.
– You can't forbid me from doing this.
Under no circumstances do I want to let her talk to my parents.
I'd rather no one talk to them. Unfortunately, this is impossible, considering that
they largely support themselves through donations
school and show up at every school event. But just the thought of Ruby
around my father makes my stomach lurch.
“Do you really want me to tell the principal how little involvement you
have?”
I slowly look up at Ruby and look at her. I can't believe she tried to
blackmail me a second ago. If I weren't so angry, I'd have to admit that I
was impressed by her.
“Do what you want,” I reply gruffly.
I ignore her for the next hour. Nobody bothers me anymore.
I furiously trace patterns in my notebook, circles and corners that turn into
monsters with sharp teeth and lacrosse sticks in their claws. When Ruby
closes the meeting, I jump up so quickly that Camille, sitting next to me,
flinches uncomfortably. I'm already at the door when suddenly Ruby blocks
my way.
-Can you wait a moment?
“I'm in a hurry,” I say through my teeth. I try to move around it, but it
moves along with me.
- Please.
She is no longer nervous as she was just a few minutes ago. Now she
seems tired, as if she wanted to escape from this room at all costs, just like
me.
Maybe that's why I nod and step aside. Or maybe I'm driven by the
thought of Principal Lexington and the fact that I would do anything in my
power to attend committee meetings as little as possible.
Kieran is the last to leave. Still in the doorway, he gives me a strange
look. If I had to shoot, I'd say he's jealous of me. Interesting.
Ruby clears her throat slightly. He leans against the doorframe, crosses his arms over his chest.
– If you're mad at me, don't take it out on the team. It's not theirs
fault. You're being unfair by making our job harder just because of this.
The memory of yesterday makes me feel sick. I remember every word
she said to me. But I wouldn't let her see how much it hurt me for anything
in the world. And that's why I look coldly into her eyes.
- I am not angry at you.

“But you don't seem in the best mood either.”
I watch her with raised eyebrows.

– Ruby Bell, it was a school science group debate. A debate that at one point became
unbearably stupid. What do you want from me?
– I just wanted to apologize to you. I behaved inappropriately, I used

personal arguments and I regret it very much.
Okay, I didn't expect that. It takes me a while to find the right words.
– You have a high opinion of yourself if you think I'm constantly bothering
myself with this.
She blinks rapidly, clearly annoyed by the snarky retort.
- You know what? Forget about it.
– You don't have to apologize to me just because you want something from me.
– James, I'm not sorry because I want something from you, just because
I'm truly sorry. Yesterday I behaved… inappropriately.
We look at each other in silence for a long moment. I'm constantly looking
for hidden intentions in her eyes. And I find nothing. She is honest and
speaks from the heart. I guess he really thinks so. I quickly consider my options.
I could continue to ignore her and pretend I didn't care what she said
yesterday. But then I run the risk that he will actually report me to Director
Lexington and thus prolong my exile on this unfortunate committee. And
besides, I come to the conclusion that I don't really want it. Arguing with
Ruby Bell is quite an effort.
My life will be much easier if I meet her halfway.
“Okay,” I just say.
And suddenly the atmosphere between us is no longer as tense as it was
a few minutes ago. I feel like I can breathe deeply again. Ruby relaxes too.
– Good – he replies. For a moment she seems uncertain, as if she doesn't

know what to do next. Then he nods and goes back to his desk. He reaches for
the calendar, opens it and marks something.
I wonder if an apology was one of the items on her list
things to do. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me at all.
Actually, I could go now. We told each other everything. I have no idea
why I stay put, just watching him pack.
Everything has its place in that ugly backpack of hers. It's soothing
it was almost a hypnotic sight to watch him, one by one, slide in a binder,
a notebook, markers, a water bottle, and finally a calendar.
– How many outfits do you need for this poster? – suddenly I hear my own voice.
Ruby freezes. He slowly turns his head and looks at me.
“Two,” he replies carefully. – A woman and a man.
I see him trying to hold back hope at all costs,
and I decide not to bother her any longer.
“I'll ask my parents,” I say after a while.
Her eyes sparkle. It's clear that it takes a lot for her to hold back her
radiant smile.
- Really?
I nod.
- Content?
He zips up his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. And then he comes to me.
- Thank you. You really helped us a lot.
I shrug in response. For the first time since I participated in the
organizing committee meetings, we leave the room together.
– Party planning is going well, right?

She glances at me sideways in surprise. I was also surprised by my question.
Why the hell don't I just run away?
– Actually, yes, although I won't really get enough sleep until after the
party.
– Why do you care so much about this?
He thinks for a moment before answering, "I
want to prove to everyone that I'm qualified to be the committee chair."
That I was up to this task. I had to work hard to even get to him, and then
fight to keep Elaine from crushing me the next morning. – He glances at
me apologetically. – I know you two are friends, but she really wasn't a
good boss. I don't want all the work and passion I've put into this
committee, and still put into it, to go away
wasted.
I mumble something unintelligible. I give her a questioning look.

– I wonder if there's something that lights this fire in me.
– Lacrosse? – suggests.
I shrug noncommittally.
- Maybe.
We run downstairs to the library, go outside, and suddenly, for the first time, I realize
that parties that seem pointless and boring to me are an important part of other people's
lives.
– What time is it exactly? Ruby asks suddenly.
I check my watch.
– It's almost four o'clock.
He curses under his breath and breaks into a run.
– The bus will miss me!
Her green backpack bounces on her shoulders, her dark hair falls loose
unruly as he runs towards the bus stop.
Meanwhile, I go to the parking lot, where the chauffeur is waiting for me next to our
Rolls-Royce. And suddenly asking my parents about outfits doesn't seem so scary.
Ruby
My phone vibrates as I watch a talent show on TV with my parents and Ember. I take it
out of my pocket. The unlock key doesn't work very well and every day I feel like I have
to press it harder. When I finally manage to unlock the display, I freeze.
Message from an unknown number.

Costumes for the poster are booked. We can pick them up in London tomorrow. J
“I can't believe this little one is only eight,” my mother at my side marvels.
– Why can't any of you sing? – Dad complains. - Right away

I would send you to such a program.
“Our talents lie elsewhere, Dad,” Ember replies.
- Yes? What do you think you can do? – I hear a hollow sound and I pick it up
sight. Ember threw a pillow from the couch at her dad. He laughs out loud.
- Please! After all, my blog has over five hundred readers. I can sew and I prove to
people that even with a figure like mine, you can wear whatever you want. And that
means something, maybe not?
– Are you over five hundred? – I ask, surprised.
We rarely talk to each other. Ember is still mad at me for not wanting to take her to
another party at Maxton Hall, which is why I missed the news that she had surpassed
that significant readership.
- Cool. My congratulations, I blurt out. I don't know why my words sound so false,
because I say them from my sincere heart. Ember has been working on Bellbird, her
blog, for over a year.
She put so much heart and work into it that she deserved success.
- Thanks. - He stares at the remote control and blindly presses the buttons.
– Are you saying that Ember, armed with a sewing machine, can apply for the next
edition of the talent show? – says the father. – Or maybe give a lecture. It would be
great if you made people aware of everything that we know, with your comparison to
Voldemort and all that, so that everyone would understand it.
Ember snickers.
– I don't think that's a good idea, Dad. This is a music program.
- Yes, you are right. But what about "Got Talent"? This is also a talent show and
what you do fits there perfectly. Worst case scenario, we'll invite your five hundred
readers and seat you in the audience.
And we will all cheer you on together.
- Of course! – I join in. – Go to the casting with your projects. And I
I will prepare colorful banners and distribute them to your admirers.
Ember grimaces and I stick out my tongue at her. There is a sparkle in her eyes,
and then a shy smile. Right now I feel like everything is fine again. We reconciled
without words, as always. I feel another weight being lifted from my shoulders.
Dad says something else, but my attention is distracted by another message that
appears on my phone. I want to reply, I start writing something, but then I delete it. I
have no idea how to react.
The thought of going to London with James and spending the whole day with him,
outside the boundaries that Maxton Hall imposes on us on a daily basis, makes me
feel strange, but also... excited, if I think about it. I'm leaning over the phone again.
Suddenly a pillow lands on my face.

– Hey! – I shout.
“We haven't finished talking yet,” the father remarks to the mortal woman
seriousness. -What do you say, Ruby? You too come forward.
– No, dad. I can't sing and no, I won't enter a talent show,
so you can make fun of me.
“Phi,” she snorts and looks at me thoughtfully, while my mother continues to
admire the little player.
– Such a small body, such a powerful voice!
– There are also other ways to win a talent show. If sewing doesn't work out,
you can learn to juggle.
– If you want to get on TV at all costs, maybe apply
alone, I note dryly.
- You know what? Maybe that's what I'll do, Dad replies playfully
in an angry voice.
– What do you want to perform? – asks my mother, absent in spirit. NO
looks away from the TV.
– Maybe for example…
Danny Jones, one of the jurors, presses a button and his seat turns.
Mom shouts triumphantly and dad raises his hands joyfully. Ember and I look at
them and burst out laughing at the same time.
– Do we have any plans for tomorrow? – I ask when the little girl left the stage
and everyone calmed down a bit.
Dad shakes his head.
- No why?
– We're planning a Halloween party and we need to rent costumes.
My friend arranged them and asks if we can go to London to pick them up tomorrow.
– It's two hours each way. This friend will lead or
will you go by train? – asks mom.
I gesture for her to wait and quickly write a reply.
Okay, so how do we get to London? – RB
I hope he realizes my initials are a joke.
My chauffeur will pick you up at ten, okay? – JMB
I burst out laughing and immediately feel Ember's questioning gaze on me.
For a moment, I feel like searching the Internet to find out what the letter M in his initials
stands for, but I refrain. That would be crossing another boundary. I don't want to know
what they say about him on the Internet. It's enough that there are hundreds of rumors
circulating around the school. I will have more than enough information about James
Beaufort's private life for the rest of my life.
– My friend apparently has a chauffeur – I answer after a long while.

– Chauffeur? – Ember repeats skeptically. – So he's one of those snobs.
– His family owns the Beaufort department store.

– And you want to go to London with this young Beaufort? – he makes sure
dad. Suspicion mixed with surprise in his voice.
I nod slowly.
– Yes, he rents us clothes from warehouses.
Dad raises his eyebrows questioningly.
– And you're going just… the two of you?

“Have mercy, Angus,” my mother interjects. - Leave her alone.
- Come on? I want to know if he's going on a date.
I feel myself turning red.
– This isn't a date, Dad. It's school stuff.
He only mutters something under his breath. Ember, on the other hand, stares at
me with wide eyes.
– It's unbelievable. – He sits comfortably on the couch and crosses his arms
on the chest. – That's… Oh Jesus. You have no idea what a deal this is, Ruby.
“I'll take pictures,” I say conciliatingly, but Ember shifts her gaze to the TV. – So I
can go? – I turn to my mother. He seems to be the only sane person in this house.
“Of course,” he replies immediately, staring at his father when he opens his mouth
again. – You're old enough to decide for yourself who you go with and where.
For some reason, her words make me blush even more.

I try not to think about it as I quickly write a reply: Okay. By the
way, I would prefer Ben ice cream instead of champagne
and Jerry – R.J.B.
PS If you come up with another initial, I'll go crazy.
I hesitate, for a moment I wonder if I can really send him such a message. James
and I are not the kind of people who joke in text messages. Or maybe it is?
See you in the morning, Ruby.
No, clearly we don't belong.

OceanofPDF.com
12
Ruby
The next day I'm on the verge of having a nervous breakdown because I
have no idea what to wear for a visit to a Beaufort department store. I have
no idea if there is a dress code and, if so, how elegant I should be. Plus, I
wonder if James will wear a suit.
We've never met outside of school, which means we've only seen each
other in school uniforms.
Finally, I put on a black skirt, knee-high socks and an orange sweater
with a white collar and a black ribbon. Plus black shoes that I found in our
local second hand store in Gormsey a few months ago.
When it comes to fashion, I'm absolutely not as adventurous as Ember.

I prefer to buy things that I feel confident in and that I know I will be able
to wear for a long time. Still, I like to get ready and spend a little time
looking neat; which is probably related to my love of order.
When I'm finally ready, I go to my sister's just in case. She's already

awake, sitting at the small desk by the window when I poke my head into
her room.
- What is? – he asks, without even turning around.
– How about an outfit like this?
He turns around with the chair. I open the door wide so she can see
me in all its glory.
“Very nice,” he says, after looking me over from head to toe.
- Really? – I make sure and rotate it around its own axis. I look at Ember
again. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.
– And this isn't a date, is it? "I sense the mockery in her voice.
I roll my eyes.
– Ember, I really hate him.

“Sure,” he mutters sarcastically and stands up. He goes to his wardrobe,
or rather a small wardrobe hidden in the wall, and opens the door. He bends
down until he almost disappears inside, searching for something. I carefully
approach her and look over her shoulder. Half a minute later, he emerges
and hands me a burgundy purse.
– My purse!
– And why this outrage? And you only walk around with this backpack all the time -
he remarks contemptuously. Looks at me. – But today suits you very well.
“You've kept it for so long that I should actually demand interest.” – I wipe
a layer of dust from the artificial leather. I also bought the bag at our local
second hand store. I wore it proudly for two weeks until our neighbor, Mrs.
Felton, noticed me in my mother's bakery and announced at the top of her
voice that the bag had belonged to her fifty years ago. Then I eagerly lent it
to Ember and didn't want it back at all. Now that I have it in my hand again,
I'm glad I have it.
“There's no question of interest on something you forgot was in my

possession,” Ember replies.
When the doorbell rings, I freeze. I glance at
watch. It's a quarter to ten.
“He arrived too early,” I mutter and run back to my room
quickly transfer your wallet and cell phone from one purse to another.
–Ruby! – comes my mother's voice.
I go downstairs and tell myself there is no reason to be nervous. This is
a school trip; I've done it hundreds of times with Lin, and it will be no
different with James.
I take a deep breath and climb the last steps.
Mom had already opened the door. I enter the hall and see that
talking to a stranger. My jaw drops.
First of all, James wasn't lying. He really has a chauffeur. And a real one
at that, with a livery, a cap, and all the bells and whistles. Secondly: the
chauffeur looks like Antonio Banderas. Dark complexion, chocolate eyes
and beautifully shaped, almost sensual lips. He's definitely well over forty,
but he's still drop-dead handsome. Judging by the blush on Mom's face,
she's thinking exactly the same as me.
– Good morning, madam – the chauffeur-Zorro looks at me and lifts his hat in a
gesture of greeting.
- Good morning…
“Percy,” my mother suggests and smiles brightly.
“…Percy,” I finish with a smile and take my jacket off the hanger. –
Fine mom. See you later.
- Have fun. And take lots of photos. – Mom kisses me on the cheek.
I go outside to Percy. The next moment, as if by magic, a large black umbrella
spreads over my head.
“Thank you very much,” I say.

– You're welcome, miss. A car is waiting on the street.
I follow his hand with my eyes and I almost freeze in mid-step. There's a Rolls-
Royce on the street in front of our house.
Glossy, black, huge, it seems like an alien among other cars. It makes such an
impression even on me, but I've already gotten used to the sight of limousines
and exclusive cars.
Percy opens the back door and holds the umbrella over my head until I get in.
I thank him, which he acknowledges with a nod, and carefully closes the door
behind me.
Less than half a minute later, the car starts moving. I nervously smooth out my
skirt and make sure it didn't move too much when I got in.
Only then do I look at James.

He sits next to me with an unreadable expression. He looks like he doesn't
know what to think about the fact that I got into his car a second ago.
He wears a dark gray suit made of fine linen, a white shirt, and a dark silk tie with
a clip. In his hand he holds a glass which I sincerely hope contains apple juice. I
notice a silver signet ring on the finger of my left hand. I've never seen him before.
There is a coat of arms on it, probably a family one.
The longer I look at him, the more inappropriate I feel in my improvised vintage
outfit. Unlike me, everything about James seems to scream money: from the
collar of his shirt to the toes of his shiny black leather shoes.
I do my best not to be intimidated by it; yet

I knew what I was deciding on.
It's only after a while that I notice how tired James seems. His turquoise
eyes are bloodshot, and I can see deep shadows beneath them.
“Good morning,” he says hoarsely.

Maybe he just woke up. Or he partied all night and didn't sleep at all.
– Good morning – I reply. - Thanks for picking me up.

He doesn't answer, he looks at me the same way I looked at him a moment
ago. Meanwhile, I look around the limo. Leather seats, a bar with glasses
and a small door, I guess for the fridge. We are separated from the driver's
seat by a dark window.
As the silence drags on uncomfortably, I nod towards Percy.
– Your chauffeur could make a career in Hollywood. Not in life

I saw an equally handsome guy in his forties.
– I'm flattered, miss. I'm fifty-two years old, a voice says
Percy from the ceiling speaker.
I look at James in surprise. He is smiling from ear to ear. A blush creeps
onto my cheeks.
"Ruby Bell, when you say things like that, you should turn off your
speakerphone just in case," James informs and looks up.
I follow his gaze and see a small red light.
- Okay.
"I'll do it, sir," Percy says, and a second later the light goes off.
I hide my face in my hands and shake my head vigorously.
– In movies, the window only rolls out. How was I supposed to know it was there?
any more button?
- Do not worry. Percy doesn't usually hear such compliments from me.
You definitely made him happy.
I fidget uneasily.
– I think I have to get off.
– It's too late for that. For the next two hours you are with me
imprisoned. – I hear a faint clanging noise. – Here, this is for you.
I slowly remove my hands from my face. James holds out the small one towards me
blue cup.
“Don't tell me you have ice cream here especially for me,” I say
in disbelief.
“We had them at home,” he replies briefly. – Take it, otherwise I'll eat it
myself.
Without a word, I take the cup from him. Meanwhile, he leans towards
the fridge for the second time and after a while he holds a second cup with
the Ben and Jerry logo in his hand. Curious, I watch as he removes the lid
and peels off the foil. It's unreal, watching him with ice cream on his lap, in
an elegant suit. For a moment I wonder if this is really happening or if I'm
still asleep.
A drop of water flows from my cup and falls into my lap. I look around for
napkins.
– Front right. – James nods towards the shoulder.
I bend down and take one of the eggshell-colored napkins and spread
them on my lap. And then I rip off the lid and lift a spoonful of ice cream to
my mouth. I close my eyes with pleasure.
- Yummy. Cookies.
“I had to shoot for your taste,” James says. – Did I hit it?
– Perfect – I assure you, but then I add: – But this new taste
salted caramel is delicious too. Did you eat something?
He denies with a movement of his head.
We eat in silence for a long time.

– The best hangover breakfast in a long time.
So he was partying yesterday.
- Long night?
I immediately regret the question as he smiles knowingly into his ice cream.
- You could say.

– So at least some of the infamous stories about James Beaufort are true.
– The infamous tales of James Beaufort? – he repeats, amused.

I raise an eyebrow.
- Please.
– I have no idea what you're talking about.
– And don't you know that the craziest rumors are circulating about you and your gang?
- For example? –
That you eat caviar for breakfast, bathe in champagne, broke the waterbed during sex
and… and so on.
He freezes with the spoon halfway to his mouth. More seconds pass.
Finally, he eats ice cream with delight, while pretending to think hard. It seems like he's
only now really waking up. The gloomy veil disappears from his eyes.
“So let's put an end to these rumors,” he finally says. – I simply don't like caviar. The
thought of eating fish eggs makes me sick. If I eat breakfast at all, I usually drink a
cocktail, sometimes I also have eggs or muesli.
– For a cocktail? – I grimace with disgust.

– Not inside. Except for the cocktail.
- Ah yes.
He thinks again.
– It's also not true about champagne. I mean, not really. I once dropped a bottle of
damn expensive champagne into Wren's parents' swimming pool and then bathed in it.
But it wasn't intentional.
– Wren's parents are probably crazy about you. –
Just so you know. – He smiles to himself and leans over the ice cream again.
– What about… the waterbed? – I ask after a moment of hesitation.

James freezes. He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye.
– You're curious, aren't you?
- Honestly? Yes, I answer, still maintaining eye contact with him. – Well, waterbeds are
rather durable, right?
I heard they are super stable.
– It wasn't a waterbed, just an ordinary one.
I swallow hard. There's something in James's eyes that I've never seen before. Something
dark and thick that makes me shiver.
“What a bore,” I say hoarsely, but the voice punishes me for lying.
I really don't want to imagine James having sex. Really.
Unfortunately, now I keep thinking about what he actually did to destroy the bed. And
what he looked like before. I saw something when
he was undressing in front of me. I know he's built great.

And I've watched him move agilely on the pitch often enough.
Women certainly have nothing to complain about in his bed.
At this moment I thank providence for ice cream in my hands. Preferably
I would also hide my face in the cup to calm down.
– Rumors usually have only a little bit of truth, if any at all.
– His knowing smile suggests that he knows exactly what I was thinking.
I've come to the conclusion that it's high time to put an end to the waterbed talk.
– Then I'm glad there aren't any rumors about me.

James puts his ice cream in the fridge and puts his spoon on the bar. He leans
back and looks at me thoughtfully.
“I was checking on you after the Lydia thing.
“I don't think I want to know what people say about me,” I say quietly.
– Most don't know you at all. And if they say something... it's all good
things.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
- Really?
James nods.
– That's one of the reasons why I was so distrustful of you. Someone with such
a good reputation must be hiding a dark secret.
I'm smiling.
- I don't.
– Why? – Amused, he leans forward. "Come on, Ruby, tell me something that
no one in the entire school knows about you."
I shake my head vigorously. Oh no. I don't dabble in such things.
- You first. Tell me something no one knows about you.
I expect him to protest, but he takes it seriously and thinks hard.
“If I don't get into Oxford, my father will kill me,” he says calmly, as if he's come
to terms with it long ago, but his eyes say otherwise.
– Because he studied there too? – I ask carefully.

– Both my parents studied at Oxford. Just like their parents.
I have always envied James and his friends that, due to their origins, they have
a better chance of getting into universities such as
Oxford. But now I realize that there are two sides to everything. Also one that means a lot of
pressure and allows me to better understand James' violent reaction during extracurricular
activities. I guess my words really hurt him.
– I wanted to study there since I was a child. As far back as I can remember, I say after a
while. Suddenly I feel confident that I can reveal a part of myself to him. Whatever the case,
he did it too, and it makes me understand him a little better. Since our first meeting, we have
been arguing constantly. It won't hurt if we can at least a little remove the prejudices and
stereotypes we have about ourselves. – My parents supported me in this from the beginning,
even though they knew it was unlikely. I've always had good grades, but that's not enough
to get you into Oxford. But then they learned about the scholarship that Maxton Hall provides
every year to a group of the most talented students and they signed me up for the program.
Neither of us expected it to work, but somehow I did. From then on, the dream of Oxford
was no longer just a pipe dream and I swore to myself that I would do everything in my
power to get there. I want my parents to be proud of me. I want to be proud of myself.
James is silent for a long moment. Suddenly there's such intensity in his turquoise eyes
that it sends a shiver down my spine.
– How long have you been going to Maxton Hall?
- Since two years.
He mutters something under his breath.
– What are you muttering? - I'm asking.

Shrugs.
– I'm just wondering how I haven't noticed you until now.
My heart is in my throat, but at the same time I am very proud of myself - apparently I
managed to achieve the basic goal, which is to be unnoticeable.
– I sneak through the corridors like a shadow, almost blending with the walls.
I have such talent.
The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.
– You're making yourself out to be the school spirit of Maxton Hall. Or a chameleon. But no
change the subject: now it's your turn.
– Like with what? – I look at him in surprise.

– Tell me something no one knows about you.
– That's exactly what I did.
He shakes his head.
- It does not count. You were just reacting to something I said.

I take a deep breath and then let it out again, while I think about what I can say to
him. However, his keen gaze that I feel on me does not help me at all. On the contrary.
Resigned, I deny with a shake of my head.

– There's nothing like that.
- I do not believe you. – He sinks back into the backrest and folds his arms over his
chest. - Please. It can't be that you're just studying.
Yes, it is possible. Fortunately, there's something else at the moment
comes to mind.
– I read manga.
He looks at me for a long moment, as if he's misheard. And then he smiles.
– Well, that's something. I wouldn't call it a dark secret, but that's okay. Your favorite
manga?
I blink anxiously. I didn't expect another question.
– Death Note – I answer after a moment's hesitation.
– Would you recommend her to me?
I have no idea how we went from talking about James breaking the beds during sex
to my favorite manga. I really have no idea. Still, I nod slowly.
– In my opinion, if someone has not read Death Note, they have a serious gap in
their general education.
He seems shocked.
– This cannot be allowed to happen.
The corners of my mouth react unconsciously. I'm smiling. James Beaufort made me
laugh.
When I realize this, I turn quickly and stare at the window, but I'm sure he saw it.
There was clearly something like triumph in his eyes.
I wonder why.
OceanofPDF.com
13
Ruby
BEAUFORT
James' name appears on the façade of the family company's headquarters.
The boy gets out of the car and walks briskly towards the entrance, while I
stop and look with wide eyes at the sign and the huge modern building in
which, as James explained to me during the drive, on the lower floors there is
the largest branch of the Beaufort department store in England, while upstairs
there are offices and individual departments, such as design, distribution,
customer service and, above all, the tailoring studio itself. Tall windows attract
attention on all six floors. What attracts attention is primarily the mannequins
in classic costumes, thanks to which the brand has gained such great fame.
– Are you coming? – James calls from the door.
We talked the whole way. Not much, but also more than expected
I expected it. However, the feeling that it is all a dream does not disappear.
I'm in London. With James Beaufort.
I just can't believe it.
–Ruby! – James exclaims and glances significantly
at his watch. It brings me back down to earth. I run to him. He holds the
door for me and after a moment's hesitation, I go inside. I look around curiously.
This Beaufort department store is much larger than the store I visited with
my parents years ago. High vaults, white walls and well-kept wooden floors
tempt you to go further. Even black furniture does not spoil this impression.
On the back wall there are shelves stretching to the ceiling, and their shelves
are filled with countless shirts. A brass rod has been installed along the shelf,
and to its left I see a ladder.
Near the entrance there is a large round table with a king in the middle
a brass deer, with neatly folded trousers lying around it. A candelabra hangs above
the table, covering the entire room with pleasant soft light. Even the air here is
unique, fresh but unobtrusive; the scent is a mixture of natural material aromas and
probably some artificial air freshener.
James nudges my shoulder pointedly. I look up at him. He nods towards the rest
of the store. I follow him slowly. To our right there is another bookcase, in the middle
of which, on the unbuilt part of the wall, there are photos of men in suits, lit by two
brass lamps. Underneath the photos there is a dark blue sofa covered with checkered
pillows. Next to it there is a fur-covered couch and a glass-topped table with crystal
glasses and a carafe of water.
We are surrounded on all sides by rough tweed, delicate silk, perfectly crafted
leather, and materials used in Beaufort's department store, always of the highest
quality. There is no doubt in my mind that I am in a shop where aristocrats and
politicians meet, and although I don't like it at all, I feel out of place.
Although it could very well be due to the fact that I only notice men around me.
Men behind the counter, men looking at themselves in huge mirrors and other men
at their feet taking measurements. And then there was the man standing by my side.
Suddenly one of them gets up from the floor. He says something to the customer
he was measuring a second ago, and then he notices us. He immediately stiffens at
the sight of James.
– Mr. Beaufort! – Pale as a wall, he glances at his watch.
“Don't worry, Tristan, we have time,” James replies.
I don't recognize his tone. He speaks completely differently, authoritatively and decisively.
I glance at him sideways and see that he is standing as straight as a string. Even
though his hands are freely stuck in his pockets, it is clear that he is not an
anonymous customer in this store. I wonder how he does it. As if every place he
goes becomes his kingdom. School, lacrosse field, department store. I wonder if the
same thing happens when he enters a bakery. Maybe I should find out about it.
Tristan calls over another tailor and hands him a tape measure. A moment later,
he approaches us and shakes James' hand.
– Please forgive me for not waiting for you at the entrance.

“No problem,” James assures. – Do you have time for us or are you very
busy?
The tailor looks at him in horror.
– Of course I have time for you.
James turns to me.
– Ruby, this is Tristan McIntyre, chief cutter at the Beaufort fashion house. Tristan, this
is Ruby Bell, chairwoman of the organizing committee at Maxton Hall.
I watch James through raised eyebrows. I was surprised that he introduced

me like that. He could have said that we went to school together. Or limit it
to just my name.
Tristan adjusts his jacket. He relaxes a little, looking at
me. A practiced smile appears on his lips.
"Mr. Beaufort rarely brings his school friends, so I'm even more pleased
to meet you, Miss Bell."
I return his smile and shake his hand. He takes it, but instead of simply
shaking it as I expected, he turns it slightly, raises it to his lips, and kisses
the back of my hand. Suddenly I feel like curtsying. Fortunately, I stop myself
at the last minute and just say:
– My pleasure, Mr. McIntyre.
-Tristan, please.
– As long as you call me Ruby.
He smiles wider and glances significantly at James.
– We imported some costumes from warehouses. They are waiting upstairs, in
the studio. Follow me, please.
He turns on his heel and wanders through the store to the wooden door.
After a while we find ourselves in the stairwell.
“I hope you like the outfits we chose,” Tristan says as we go upstairs. –
Mr. Beaufort, your great-great-great-grandfather designed them himself.
I glance at James in surprise, but his face shows nothing

feelings when he
replies: - I'm sure they will be appropriate.
– The same great-great-great-grandfather who founded the Beaufort department
store? – I ask, intrigued.
Tristan confirms with a nod of his head.

– In person. He founded it with his wife in 1857. Did you know that Beaufort initially
offered both men's and women's fashion? Only at the beginning of the twentieth century it
was decided to limit the range to men's clothing.
Yes, I knew, ever since Lin had the idea to ask James for the costumes. I then said
that it wouldn't do any good because we still didn't have enough clothes for women, so
she told me about the beginnings of the Beaufort department store and showed me photos
of elegant outfits that were sold there at that time.
“Yes,” I say, a little too late. - But I do not know why.

– We were in a bad financial condition – explains James. – Great-great-grandfather
made wrong decisions, the company was on the verge of bankruptcy. The only solution
was narrow specialization.
– Thanks to this, Beaufort became the brand we know today – adds Tristan as proudly
as if he were present. – Nobody sews suits like us. You can get everything you can dream
of here, from everyday suits to evening fashion. There is no comparison to the offer of
mass production, not to mention the fact that each suit is personalized with the client's
initials. Can you show me, Mr. Beaufort?
I stop and turn to James, who is a step behind me. Now our eyes are at the same
height. For a second too long I stare into his eyes, the expression in which I can't interpret
again, and then I look down at his chest pocket and see the embroidered initials JMB
– Since yesterday, I've been wondering what M stands for – I confess.

I look up again and suddenly I'm seeing him so close that I can see details in his face
that I hadn't noticed before. For example, the fact that his eyelashes are incredibly dark,
considering his complexion. Or that his cheeks are covered with barely visible freckles.
“Mortimer,” he says quietly.

– From your father?
He nods and shifts his gaze to Tristan. A clear signal that no

I want to continue talking about this topic.
We climb higher and higher, and Tristan tells me about the unique materials that
Beaufort's tailors use, the number of buttons on
cuffs they can choose from.

Until now, for me, a suit was... just a suit. I never noticed any particular
differences, not to mention that I didn't even wonder how many decisions
had to be made before sewing something like that. Or how many ways
it can be done.
“We measure everything, we leave nothing to chance,” Tristan
continues as we enter the brightly lit corridor. – This is a sacred rule of
the Beaufort department store. We work carefully and offer the highest
quality. And that's why we even dress members of the royal family.
– He stops at the photo hanging on the wall. I step closer and my jaw
drops. The photo shows the heir to the throne.
“You won't say that you dress him too,” I whisper
in disbelief.
James stays silent while Tristan smiles at me.
– Not only him.
We continue walking along a corridor whose walls are decorated with
photographs of prominent people, politicians and aristocrats, all of
whom, without exception, are wearing Beaufort suits. I see Pierce
Brosnan, the Beatles and a whole lot of men whose faces tell me
nothing, but the posture in the photos makes it clear that they have a lot
of power and money.
– Have you met them all in person? – I turn to James.
Shrugs.
- Some of them.
“Fantastic,” I mutter, and I almost feel bad when Tristan opens the
door at the end of the hall and finally leads us into the tailoring shop.
I look around curiously. It is a spacious room, it actually resembles a large hall. Even
though it's Saturday, at least fifty tailors bustle between mannequins and tables piled high
with bales of fabric.
– Come on, the costumes are in the back. – Tristan moves ahead,
leading us deeper into the hall. As we pass, the tailors greet James
politely but stiffly. I look over my shoulder and see them whispering
something furtively. I look at James with furrowed brows. His face wears
a mask of nonchalance and arrogance, the same one
whom I know so well from school. I wonder what he's thinking about right now.
I guess he doesn't like that all these people seem to be afraid of him.
I'd like to get to know him better, I suddenly say. Get to know James better
Beaufort and everything that happens in this family.
Tristan's voice breaks me out of my reverie. The man stops abruptly.
– Voilà – he announces and shows the tailor's mannequin with a dramatic movement until...
It takes my breath away.

The mannequin shows a dress from the Victorian era. Made of green silk, it
consists of two parts, it has short sleeves finished with black lace. The top is
tight, the modest heart-shaped neckline is decorated with black stones. Thanks
to the crinoline, the voluminous skirt seems even more spacious and larger.
Pleated green material with lace inserts flows down to the floor. This is definitely
the most beautiful outfit I have ever seen in my life.
I can't imagine taking her home or to school. I don't even dare touch it for
fear of dirtying it.
Right next to it stands another mannequin, wearing a men's outfit, which
includes a tailcoat, vest, shirt and trousers. The tailcoat is slightly cinched at
the waist and looks as if it was made of soft wool. The black vest attracts
attention with lots of pockets and a V-neck. Under the small collar of his white
shirt I see a black tie, wider and of a different shape than those worn today.
“In those days, a gentleman didn't do anything by halves.

All the details had to be perfect, Tristan explains and slowly removes the outfit
from the mannequin. Then he looks at James and invites him behind the
screen. – Mr. Beaufort, let's make sure everything fits.
James doesn't look at me and disappears behind the screen. It gives the
impression that it functions on autopilot and is not fully present. I haven't seen
a trace of emotion on his face since we got out of the Rolls-Royce. As if he
cared not to reveal his thoughts or feelings to anyone.
Accompanied by Tristan's quiet whispers and the rustle of fabric, I finally
dare to approach the dress. I wonder what kind of woman wore it in the past,
what her life was like. Did she have any dreams and did she manage to fulfill
them?
About five minutes later, Tristan emerges from behind the screen.
“It fits like a glove,” he announces triumphantly.
“Because you know my measurements,” James remarks dryly. – Definitely something
you tinkered with it.
After a while, he too comes out from behind the screen.
It makes my mouth feel dry.
It looks like it came from the 19th century. The outfit fits him perfectly, Tristan even
took care of his hairstyle, combing his hair to the side and slipping his cane into his
hand. My eyes wander over his body, from top to bottom. It looks simply fantastic.
It's only when I look back at his face that I realize I must be staring at a painted door,
and judging by his cheeky smile, he knows exactly what's on my mind. A blush creeps
onto my cheeks.
"Your turn, Ruby," Tristan suddenly says.

- I'm listening? – I look at him in surprise. – How so?
– Well, the dress is waiting. – Indicates the creation. I look at him first, then at James.
He tries, not entirely successfully, to suppress a smile. Only then do I realize what they
mean.
- No way! – I say with panic in my voice. I was supposed to get the costumes,
no one mentioned putting them in.
– Did you think I was the only one who would time travel? Oh no. “James reaches
out with his cane and hits my calf a little too hard. – You have to change your clothes
too.
"A real gentleman doesn't raise his hand to a lady, Mr. Beaufort."
notes Tristan.
James snickers.
– Tristan, Ruby is not a lady, she is a tyrant.
– You don't know what you're talking about yet, but I'll be happy to let you find out. –
I narrow my eyes at Tristan. “You don't happen to have another cane, Tristan?”
- Unfortunately not. But you won't need the cane once you put on this gorgeous
dress. I invite. – He looks at me with such pleading eyes that I don't have the heart to
resist any longer. I go behind the screen and Tristan disappears, returning a moment
later with a woman whom he introduces as his assistant and who helps me put on a
complicated two-piece outfit. It turns out that
I couldn't cope with life on my own. Fastening countless tiny buttons is quite
an art, not to mention the fact that both the top and the voluminous skirt
resemble scaffolding reinforced with metal rods. It takes a lot of effort to get
one over my head and the other over my hips. When I'm ready, it turns out
that the crinoline is so huge that I can barely fit in the narrow space between
the wall and the screen.
– Ready, boss – says Tristan's assistant and he appears behind the screen
again. When he sees me, he clasps his hands. He beams.
- Wonderfully! Just the finishing touches... - Out of nowhere, he conjures up
a hairpin and stands behind me. He takes the top part of my hairstyle, at least
that's what I think, lifts it slightly and pins it up.
Then he stands in front of me again, pulls out a few strands of hair, until a
look of bliss appears on his face. Only then can I look in the mirror that hangs
on the opposite wall.
I had no idea I could look like that. Firstly, the dress highlights my curves
as if it was made especially for me, and secondly, I feel like I feel the spirit of
the lady who wore it years ago.
I feel beautiful and strong. As if the whole world was at my feet and I just had
to snap my fingers and get everything I wanted. I slowly turn to Tristan. I'm
smiling.
– Thank you for making me put it on.
He bows slightly.
– Mr. Beaufort? – he begins solemnly. – Introducing Miss Ruby Bell.
I'm slowly moving. One step, two, I pass the screen, I keep going... Until
I finally stop and muster the courage to look up.
James, deep in conversation with Tristan's assistant, stops mid-sentence
when he sees me. His eyebrows go up to his hair and his mouth opens
slightly. He looks at me as if time had stood still. I swallow hard.
James mumbles something I can't hear.

- I'm listening?
He clears his throat.
- You look very nice.

My heart stops in my chest. It's not the first time I've heard a compliment from a
guy, and yet I feel like I've never experienced it before.
I don't think James says something like that often either. His words seem…sincere.
Authentic.
“The dress is tailored for you,” Tristan admits. He pushes me another step towards
James and takes his cell phone out of his pocket. – Now look like a couple from the
19th century.
At my side, James is snorting under his breath, but when I dare to look at him, I see
that he's staring into the camera as if he's done nothing else his whole life. I recall
photos circulating around Maxton Hall last year. Together with Lydia, they presented
the new parents' collection. James had the same inscrutable expression as he did
now. I turn my head to Tristan and try to look proud and serious at the same time. I
don't know if I'm good at it, but this guy snaps photo after photo.
– Please change your pose. Bow a little and hold out your hand to Miss Ruby to
make it look like you're asking her to dance, I suggest after a few minutes.
James, like a professional, follows his instructions immediately.

I don't believe that many other eighteen-year-olds looked as elegant as he did in
this outfit and in this position, costumed or not. But he seems to really take it seriously.
I'm surprised when he suddenly takes my hand and looks at me. His skin is warm, and
even though our fingers are barely touching, I feel a shiver run down my arm.
When he looks at me like that, I imagine everything. A living room full of people in
period costumes, atmospheric music played by an orchestra... James and me. I feel
him put his hand on my back and lead me in dancing. He can definitely move. I can
imagine perfectly well that I could get carried away on the dance floor with him.
I swallow hard. I like this idea more than I should.

– Now, how about another photo facing each other? - Tristan suggests and James
moves obediently. The silk handkerchief in his breast pocket shifts a little, and I
reflexively adjust it.
I see a glint in his eyes and immediately withdraw my hand. Suddenly I don't have it
no idea what to do with it. I hang it helplessly along my body.
Suddenly James takes my hand. The other one wraps around my waist.
I hold my breath. My heart is beating like crazy, I don't know why, but I feel
wonderful under his touch. Right now I don't remember why I don't like him at all.
What is he doing to me?

James looks into my eyes with the same mixture of surprise and alertness
that I feel myself. The sounds around us fade away the longer we look into each
other's eyes. Suddenly I can only feel it. His fingers on my waist, moving slightly,
his hand tightening around mine. His gaze is like a challenge that I want to take
up at all costs.
“James,” a low voice says from behind us.
The fire in his eyes goes out in a split second. Ease of posture also quickly
disappears.
Second. It took him that long to become the James Beaufort I know again.
The arrogant smirk and coldness in his gaze make him suddenly seem menacing.
- Mom dad. I didn't know you would be here today.

Oh my God. I start to turn around in the huge dress and when I finally get it
I succeed, my heart stops beating.
In front of me are Mortimer and Cordelia Beaufort. James and Lydia's parents.
Owners of one of the most prosperous companies in England. Suddenly I no
longer feel beautiful and strong as I did a few moments ago, and certainly not
compared to Cordelia Beaufort. Everything about it is stylish, elegant and refined.
She has a narrow face and the same arrogant lips as James, except hers are
covered in dark red lipstick. Her smooth skin is the color of porcelain. The woman
is wearing a tight white dress, probably from a famous designer. Her shiny rust-
gold hair falls over her shoulders, styled perfectly, as if she had just left the
hairdresser.
James' father has blond hair, icy blue eyes, and a downturned mouth. Proudly
erect, in a tailored Beaufort suit, he looks as if he were going to an important
business meeting.
His face is unreadable as he looks me over from head to toe. Now I know who
James got his inscrutable expression from.
“We're here for a meeting with the Chinese,” James' mother explains, steps
forward and kisses her son on the cheek. It reaches
the smell of her perfume. It smells powdery and fresh roses at the same time.
“Percival mentioned that he brought you and…” – he glances at me – “your
friend.”
James doesn't react. Because he doesn't make anything to introduce me to his parents,
red up to my ears, I step forward and extend my hand to his mother.
–Ruby Bell. Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Beaufort.
He stares at my hand a little too long before finally taking it.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he assures and reveals with a smile
pearly white teeth.
I want to be like her, runs through my head. I want to enter a room like her
and make everyone around me see me as a strong, commanding woman.
However, I do not want to arouse fear and terror by my mere presence,

although that is probably how Mr. Beaufort works. He nods at me when I
shake his hand, then looks around the studio as if I'm no longer interested in
him.
“I see you borrowed the outfits from the warehouse,” Mrs. Beaufort says
and looks at us, tilting her head slightly. He comes closer and adjusts
something in my skirt. He frowns. – This dress is too long. Please shorten it,
McIntyre.
Tristan, who hadn't said a word since James' parents showed up
in a word, he nods his head vigorously.
– Of course, madam.
Now James' mother gestures for me to turn around.
I fulfill her orders with all my heart in mind.
– What exactly do you need these outfits for?
“To the Victorian ball at the end of October,” James replies.
He seems devoid of all feelings, his monotonous tone resembles the voice of
a robot.
– He means the party he has to organize because of what he did
spoiled little bugger,” adds Mr. Beaufort.
Mrs. Beaufort clicks in disgust. I finish turning around, which wasn't easy
in this dress, and glance between the three Beauforts as discreetly as I can.
James shows no reaction to his father's words. His mother, on the other
hand, looks at her husband inquisitively for a moment.
Then he turns to me again. She puts her hands on the short sleeves of her dress,
pulls them lightly, and finally says to Tristan:
– They need to be widened a bit. They're pressing her at the moment, and in such
an outfit... - She looks at me questioningly.
“Ruby,” I suggest.
– …Ruby can't breathe easily.
Tristan nods and, together with his assistant, takes me behind the screen again.
I turn back to James over my shoulder, but he isn't looking at me, his focus is on
his parents. My father says something to him – with his eyes fixed on me. He
seems nervous, but I can't make out the words he's saying to James.
I turn to Tristan.
– They seem very… important. – At the last moment, I manage to replace the
word "terrifying" that was on my lips with something more positive.
Meanwhile, Tristan is eagerly pinning up the hem of his dress with pins from a
box on his wrist.
– That's right. - Just enough.
It was incredible how quickly silence fell over the spacious hall, as soon as Mr.
and Mrs. Beaufort arrived. No one talks anymore, even Tristan just smiles before
disappearing behind the screen and leaving me in the hands of an assistant who
helps me take off my dress. Turns out it's a lot easier than putting it on. Less than
ten minutes later, I'm wearing my clothes and emerging from behind the screen
again.
I'm standing next to James, who has already taken off his tailcoat and nonchalantly
slung it over his shoulder.
Mrs. Beaufort looks at me, then puts her hand on her son's shoulder.
– I'll see you downstairs.

James nods.
His mother looks at me.
– It was very nice to meet you, Miss Bell.
James' father doesn't say a word. They both turn on their heels and leave the
sewing room. Only when the door closes behind them do I breathe freely.
“You could have warned me,” I say quietly.

James turns stiffly towards me. I would like to read something

from his gaze, but all I see is turquoise ice.
"Percy's waiting for you downstairs."
– Hey, I'm ready. You're still stuck in the nineteenth century. –
I smile at him carefully.
“Our trip is over,” he replies with a deadpan expression. His voice is as
cold as his eyes. Cold and distant. – It's better if you go away.
I frown.
- I'm listening?
"You have to go, Ruby," he says slowly, emphasizing each syllable as if
she had trouble understanding. – I'll see you at school.
She turns around and disappears behind the screen to change her clothes. I stare at the
screen for a moment until I realize what James has just done. How he spoke to me.
I feel furious. I move towards the screen to talk to him, but I don't make
it very far. Tristan grabs my arm.
I see sadness in his eyes, but also determination.
- You're welcome, Ruby. I'll walk you downstairs. – He gently pulls my
hand. Despite myself, I let myself move out. As we walk through the
tailor's workshop, I feel the compassionate eyes of the workers on me.
OceanofPDF.com
14
Ruby
My mask of invisibility fell away.

A rumor spread that James and I were in London over the weekend.
Apparently there are even photos of us entering the Beaufort department store together.
Suddenly everyone in Maxton Hall knows my name. People I have never spoken to greet
me in the corridor, but most of them whisper something behind my back. The worst thing
is during lessons when I can't concentrate at all because other students are constantly
staring at me. As if they expected me to get up at any moment and tell everyone what
actually happened last weekend between me and James Beaufort.
In fact, I would love to erase this Saturday from my memory. I feel

humiliated all the time, and the more I remember James' hopeless
behavior, the more furious I become with him.
When lunch break rolls around, I seriously consider skipping lunch, but
I'm too hungry for that to really be an option, and Lin promises to cover
me with her breasts and tell me the latest gossip about her father.
– He has a new girlfriend again – he finally starts after a long time

we eat in silence for a while.
I look up from the udon noodles.
– But this isn't another marriage fraud, is it? - I'm asking
with a full mouth.
- NO. Lin grimaces. – I mean, at least I hope so.
- And? – I ask carefully.
Lin shrugs. He pushes the half-eaten sandwich away from him and
wipes his fingers on a napkin.
- I do not know. He might actually take a break for a while,

especially since things didn't work out so badly with his last lover.
Lin meets with her father once a month to maintain at least some contact with him. I
admire her for approaching the whole situation so pragmatically. I don't know if I would be
able to look my father in the eye if he treated me and my mother equally badly.
– Was she okay with you? – I finally ask.

Lin shrugs.
- Basically yes. Maybe even too fine.
– How so?
- I do not know. It just didn't work out between us. – He picks anxiously at the corner of
his napkin. – But sometimes it happens. It's impossible to get along with everyone.
I think for a moment.

– With some people you find a common language only after a long time, but then it
works surprisingly well. – I instinctively glance at James and his friends. They grab one of
the better tables by the high window and talk, deeply moved. James says something and
Wren laughs so hard that Keshav has to pat him on the back because he chokes.
– Is experience speaking to you? – Lin looks significantly at James.
I shake my head in denial and look at the pasta again.

- Have mercy. Won't you tell me what happened between you?
– I already told you.
Lin raises an eyebrow.
– You only said that you went to buy clothes. But I'm not stupid.
I take a deep breath.
- It was fine. In fact, even better than okay. Until his parents suddenly showed up.
Lin takes a deep breath.

– Have you met the Beauforts?
I confirm with a movement of my head.
– They're… overwhelming. Especially his mother, I say. – There was no time to talk to
them any longer, they only stopped by for a moment. And from that moment on, James
was as he always was.
– So what did he do? – Lin asks, and suddenly remembers that there is also
a tray of food in front of her. He looks at me tensely and digs into his sandwich.
– He kicked me out. I was taken outside.
He stands still with a piece of bread in his mouth. He stares at me.
I shrug helplessly. I don't want to think back to the nightmare return trip where
I had to force myself to breathe deeply. I had to calm down.
“I've never been so embarrassed in my life,” I mutter and dare to glance at

James again.
Right now, he's looking at me too. When our eyes meet, anger bubbles up
inside me again, rising to my throat, and I'm on the verge of standing up and
hitting him over the head with my tray.
But a second later he blinks, breaks the bond, and then again
focuses on friends.
– Why did he throw you out anyway? – Lin asks.
This is what I racked my brain over for the rest of the weekend. And I came
to the only reasonable conclusion.
– I think he's ashamed of me. I wish you could have seen the way his father
looked at me. As if I were dirt stuck to my shoe. – I grab a bowl of dessert.
Today it is chocolate cream with whipped cream, decorated with a strawberry
and a mint wafer.
At least that's the pleasure I'll get today.
– What nonsense. Don't let anyone treat you like this, says Lin
with such concern that I look up at her.
“But that's the truth,” I answer. – You wouldn't pay attention to me either
attention if it weren't for this scandal with your parents.
Lin shrinks as if I had thrown chocolate cream in her face. He turns pale
rapidly. At this point I realize what I said.
I immediately open my mouth to apologize, but she stands up.
“It's great that you think so highly of me,” she hisses and reaches for the tray, even
though she hasn't finished eating yet.
He puts it down at the dirty dishes drop-off point and leaves the cafeteria
without once looking back at me. I stare at my dessert and feel my appetite go
away. What a terrible day.
When I head to the library in the afternoon, I've almost become accustomed
to the stares and whispers of other students. It's getting easier
I tend to ignore them, even though I still hear the echo of their voices in my ears. I never
expected that these few hours in James' company would have such an impact on my life at
Maxton Hall. Where was my head? James is the king of this school, so it's obvious that
everyone is interested in who he spends his free time with. It was a mistake that I got into
his car. Now I'm paying for it by losing my invisibility hat.
The meeting of the organizing committee is one big torture. Lin won't look at me, and I,
in turn, can't look at James. It takes a lot for me to tell everyone about the outfits without
showing how hurt and angry I am. I think I succeeded, because when I finish, everyone
looks at the photos with interest. Camille announces that her parents know the owners of a
large cutlery factory who have declared that they will lend us everything necessary for the
ball. Jessalyn wrote to the rental company in the area and checks out the interior design
options, and Kieran shows us the music he's been able to find.
It all comes to me in a fog.

We divide the tasks before the next meeting and close the meeting. I grab Lin's hand.
He keeps avoiding my eyes, but waits for the others to leave. I close the door behind them
and find my friend's eyes.
“That's not what I meant,” I start. – I'm sorry for what I said. I just... You used to move in
different circles.
Sometimes I wonder if we would have met at all if the scandal with your parents hadn't
happened.
Lin looks at me for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and admits quietly, "You're right."
I can't believe my ears.

– So?
He nods affirmatively.
– If you hadn't approached me then, we wouldn't have become friends, not like we do
now. – For the first time since dinner, he looks me in the eye. – Thank you very much for
contacting me then.
He speaks hoarsely, swallowing hard. I remember perfectly the day a year and a half
ago when I entered the women's bathroom on the first floor
and I heard someone crying. I had no idea who it was, I only knew that this person
was in a lot of pain. So I asked gently if everything was okay, and Lin replied that
I should leave her alone. I didn't listen to her. Instead, I sat on the floor in front of
the closed stall, slid tissues under the door for her, and waited until she was ready
to leave. This was the beginning of our friendship.
– I'm happy about it too. And I'm very sorry.

- Me too. I didn't mean to upset you.
– Today is just a bad day – I say resignedly.
I take my phone out of my backpack and take a photo of the notes I made on the
board during the meeting. Then I sit down at the computer and send everyone
the photos and the report that Lin prepared. Meanwhile, she is erasing the board.
“Beaufort was staring at you the entire meeting,” he says suddenly.

I snort contemptuously.
– I was standing in the middle. Everyone was staring at me.
– Not like him. He beckoned you with his eyes to look at him.
– What nonsense.
Lin shrugs.
- As you wish. Anyway, you were fantastic, you stuck with it
ignoring. He deserved it.
I lower the lid of my laptop and slip it into my backpack.
– I just want everything to be as it was before – I explain. We turn off the light. – Everyone is
staring at me like we're doing who knows what on Saturday. Yet they have no idea what really
happened. So nothing.
He nods thoughtfully.
- I see. But you know how it is. Everyone goes after the smallest one
gossip like vultures on a carcass. Especially when it comes to James Beaufort.
I look at her suspiciously.
- Yeah.
He elbows me in the side and holds the door open.
- Do not worry. When the next gossip comes out, everyone will forget about you.
We go out into the corridor. I'm about to answer her when I see someone
leans against the wall near the door frame.
James.
I look at him. The question on the tip of my tongue is what the hell he's doing
here, but at the last minute I remember that I'm ignoring him.
So I turn my head and keep walking.
Then he breaks away from the wall and walks towards me.
- Do you have a moment? – His gentle tone irritates me. This doesn't sit well
with James, who almost exactly forty-eight hours ago treated me like garbage.
You have to go now, Ruby.

I would love to shout in his face what I think about it, but too much
I appreciate my library card and key to the committee meeting room.
– No, I don't – I answer briefly. It makes me proud that I can control my voice
and at the same time speak firmly. Let him know that I will not allow myself to be
treated like this.
- We need to talk. – James doesn't give up. He glances at Lin. – Alone.
I shake my head.
– We don't need anything, James.
Lin touches my shoulder, letting me know I'm not alone.
Suddenly I only feel tired.
- You know what? – I look James straight in the eyes. – Maybe it would be best
just go back to the way it was.
He frowns.
– To the old state?
I have to clear my throat. Out of nowhere, a lump rose in my throat and with every breath
it's getting bigger and bigger now.
– Until the time when you had no idea I existed. Maybe it will be better if we go
back to that era. At least I was much better then.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again.

The wrinkles on his forehead deepen. Finally, he nods slowly.
- I see.
Cool. He understands what my problem is. So I won't have to bother with it in
the future.
Still, it hurts as I turn on my heel and head towards the exit with Lin.
OceanofPDF.com
15
Ruby
- What is? – Ember asks, and I flinch reflexively. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't
even notice when she quietly entered the kitchen and looked over my shoulder into the pot
of boiling jam.
“Nothing,” I answer a moment too late.

Dad waves a full package of gelling sugar at me.
– That's not true, something's going on, your sister is right.
I roll my eyes dramatically.
– You're pissing me off, that's it. – I stir the pot a little too vigorously with
the ladle and hot apple jam splashes onto my hand. I hiss loudly.
“Run under cold water, immediately,” my mother orders and takes the ladle out of my
hand. She hands it to Ember and she pushes me towards the sink and turns on the cold
water.
“Just leave me alone,” I mutter.
“You're welcome,” Dad replies. “But you've been acting this way since
Saturday's mysterious trip, and I'm very curious why.
I mutter something indistinctly under my breath. Even at home one has
no peace. I never understood why everyone always complains about
Mondays. For me, every Monday is a new beginning, the foundations of a
new wonderful week. I usually love Mondays. Today, however, everything is
getting on my nerves. People at school, memories of Saturday, Ember's
curious glances. Even the burn on my hand that stings like hell. Fucking
apple jam.
I would love to escape to my place and plan everything out at least three
months in advance. Unfortunately, my family forced me to help make jam,
although I guess it's all just an excuse to finally get some information out of
me.
– Can't you just tell us what happened? –

Ember's question confirms my suspicions.
“No, because you're not really interested in what happened,” I retort. –
You're asking because you want to learn as much as possible about
Beaufort Department Store.
- Not true!
- NO? – I say provocatively. – So you're not interested in what it was like there?
Ember shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
– No, yes, I am interested. But one thing does not exclude the other.
I am interested in both one of the largest English men's clothing department
stores and your well-being. Dearest sister, there is enough room in my
heart.
“How sweet,” Dad comments and rides past us in a wheelchair.
He approaches the stove. He takes a second spoon and dips it into the bubbling mass.
I always find it fascinating watching him try a new dish.
When I do this, I look... normal. But it's obvious from my dad that he's a
professional. His expression changes, as if he's mentally going through all
the ingredients and trying to figure out what else is missing, if anything.
Just like right now. He tilted his head slightly. We watch him tensely. A
second later his face lights up. He steps back a little towards the small
metal basket that holds all the spices. He reaches for the cinnamon and
pours a pinch into the cast iron pot.
The scent brings to mind Christmas, my favorite holiday.
“There's nothing to tell, Ember,” I answer a little too late. My sister sighs
anxiously. – And you know more about the Beaufort department store
than I do.
“I'd love to visit their tailoring workshop,” she sighs and leans on her
hand.
– Wouldn't you be bored? After all, you want to specialize in fashion
women's - notes dad.
The doorbell rings. We look at each other in amazement.
– Who could it be? – my mother wonders aloud and walks towards the door.
– It's about the atmosphere, dad. I would like to see how they work
there, what materials and patterns they use. It sure is fascinating. – Longing
her voice breaks my heart. I understand that she doesn't think it's fair that I
could just visit the headquarters of one of the largest department stores,
something she probably won't have the chance to do for a long time. On the
other hand, I remember how this trip ended for me. And I wouldn't want my
sister to feel as humiliated as I did then.
- I have an idea. Couldn't you ask your friend if he could show me around
too? – says Ember. What worries me is that he says it half jokingly, but also
half seriously.
“You can ask him yourself, Ember,” Mom says suddenly.
I turn to her with a frown.
- I'm listening?
“He's standing in front of our door,” he explains, pointing with his thumb
with his arm. -You didn't mention he was so handsome.
I look at her. The defense instinct jumps from zero to one hundred.
– You didn't let him in, did you?
- Of course not. You will do it... Or not, if you prefer. – Mom comes up to
me and kisses the top of my head. I feel the curious eyes of my loved ones on
my back as I walk through the kitchen and out into the hall.
I walk to the door in a daze.
James is really standing on the steps leading to our house. This is the first
time I see him wearing anything other than a school uniform or suit.
He looks like a normal boy in dark jeans and a white shirt.
If I saw him on the street wearing this outfit, I probably wouldn't recognize him
at all. On his shoulder he has a large black case marked with the Beaufort
logo. I stare at the sweeping B and suddenly feel unspeakable anger.
There's nothing to look for here. I don't want him to come even one step
closer to my family. My life here has nothing to do with my life at Maxton Hall.
The fact that he is standing here in front of me now and just blurring the line I
set years ago is unacceptable, and certainly not after last Saturday.
The moment I open my mouth to take it all away from him, he looks away
from our rose bushes and sees me in the doorway.
His eyes take on an expression I can't identify, never do, and then he takes a
step forward so that our eyes
are at the same height. He clears his throat and after a while he holds out the
cover towards me.
– I brought you a dress. Tristan reworked it. Now it will probably fit perfectly.
I make no gesture to take the package from him.

– And that's why you came to my house?
He takes a deep breath, lets it out after a moment, and scratches the back of
his head.
– I also wanted to talk to you about Saturday. I acted like an asshole and I'm
really sorry about that.
For a long time I just stare at him.
It's the first time I've heard something like that from him and I automatically
wonder if he's ever had to apologize to anyone in his life.
When I remember what he has been doing in recent years, for example at school,
I guess that his moral boundary is in a completely different place than mine.
But now, judging by his face, he seems really sorry.

“I don't understand why you did it,” I say quietly.
And certainly not after he held my hand and for a moment everything was truly
magical between us. I could clearly see the warmth in his gaze and I could clearly
feel the sparks between us. I didn't make this up.
He swallows hard. He doesn't say anything for a whole minute and just looks
at me with his inscrutable gaze. And then he mutters something under his breath,
so quietly that I can barely catch the words:
"Sometimes I don't understand myself, Ruby Bell."
I open my mouth to say something, but then close it again.
I feel like this is the first time he's been honest with me, and I don't want to ruin it
by rejecting his apology. So I stay silent. I've been silent for so long that I would
feel uncomfortable around anyone else, but when it comes to James...
I think we could stay silent together for hours, staring at each other, hoping to see
something behind the wall the other person had built.
– Why did you really come here? – I finally ask.
– Because today after school you said… – He hesitates. – What if I don't?
I want to go back to the way it was before?
A bitter laugh escapes me.
– You kicked me out. And even before that you humiliated them in the presence of your own people
parents. You acted like I wasn't worthy of meeting them.
He denies it vigorously with a movement of his head.
- That's not what I meant.
Only now I notice that he is barely swaying on his feet.
You'd think he was nervous.
– I… I had a great time on Saturday… until… until my parents showed up. – He
clears his throat. – Look, it would be pointless to pretend we don't know each other
now. You are no longer invisible to me. And I don't want to pretend that's the case.
Even though I still have a bitter taste in my mouth from Saturday, his
words make me feel a pulsating excitement.
“I have no idea what you want from me now, James,” I say quietly.
– Absolutely nothing. I just wish things weren't like they used to be.
Can't we just... know each other now?
I watch him in silence.
He's not serious, he's going over my head. There's no way he's serious. I am not stupid.
I know full well that he still hates me, even though we had a great time together on Saturday.
He can't play lacrosse because of me, and I know his sister's biggest secret and therefore
pose a threat to his entire family. He probably just wants to keep an eye on me.
“If this is your next clever plan…” I start skeptically, but James doesn't
let me finish.
“No,” he assures and climbs the last step to the door.
I shouldn't look for hidden meaning in his words, I am well aware of
that. I can't figure it out; I doubt anyone can do it. And yet, right now,
there's something in his eyes... something honest and sincere that takes
my breath away for a moment. How did this happen? How have we
gone from ignorance, attempted bribery and hatred to this moment in
one month?
The door opens behind me.
-Ruby? Everything's all right?
I stiffen. James Beaufort stands in front of me, a hundred and fifty
year old dress slung over his shoulder and a look in his eyes that makes
me weak in the knees. Behind me is my sister, with whom I was arguing
a few minutes ago over dad's pot of marmalade. My two worlds collide in a mad rush, I
feel cold and hot at the same time. I don't know how to react, so I just nod with a forced
smile and try to tell my sister to get lost. She looks between me and James, both curious
and skeptical, but eventually she steps back and disappears through the door.
Only then am I able to turn back to James.

It takes me a moment to gather myself and finally realize that I still haven't answered his
question.
– I don't know – I answer honestly.
James nods slowly.
- I see. I actually just came to apologize to you for Saturday.
– Only for Saturday?

He smiles, embarrassed.
– Well, I certainly won't apologize for giving you a lap dance.
I have no idea if I can accept his apology if he says something like that. I have no idea
if he's being sincere or just trying to ease the tension so I won't tell anyone about Lydia.
Still, it would be easier for me if I didn't have to be angry at him all the time. Or she
could even talk to him about school every once in a while.
On Saturday, I noticed that he was not only mischievous, but also intelligent.
I had a good conversation with him. And there's something else that makes me shiver and
curious.
I realize it's unwise, I know I can't trust him under any circumstances. But the more I
think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that I don't really want to go back to the
way things were either.
I look deep into his eyes so he knows I'm serious and say, "I won't let you treat me like
that again."
“Sure,” she replies quietly and finally hands me the bag with the dress.
It's starting to rain at this moment. Not much, but enough that I'm worried about my outfit.
despite the protective cover. I take her from James and take her inside.
When I step out onto the porch again, countless raindrops shimmer on his hair and fall
onto his face. He wipes them off with the back of his hand
and runs his fingers through his hair, still looking into my eyes. I know I
should invite him in before he gets soaked through, but I can't. This is
not the right time. I won't introduce my parents and sister to him today.
Maybe I'll never get around to it.
“I accept your apology,” I finally say.
There's a twinkle in his eyes. It's the first time I see this expression on his face.
And so we stand in the rain, him on the steps of my house, me in the

doorway, unable to invite him inside.
But this is a start.
OceanofPDF.com
16
James
Watching lacrosse play when I can't play it drives me crazy.
My team is literally pulsing with adrenaline. The guys come out of the dressing room.
Every player gives me a high-five as they pass me on their way to the field. I'm standing
on its edge, between the stands. I don't usually think about it, but right now I regret
everything, especially the idea to liven up that party a bit.
The worst thing about all this is that Roger Cree, one of the new ones, plays in my
position and is doing so well that he is starting to pose serious competition. If it was bad,
there would be a place waiting for me, but now? How do I know that when my punishment
ends, the coach won't think I have no place on the team? Especially since Roger has been
getting along great with Cyril and the other guys lately.
He comes to me and raises his hand. Despite myself, I give him a high five, then sit on
the bench at the edge of the pitch and watch our opponents run onto the pitch and take
position. They are good, I know many of them from last season. One of the attackers in
particular is unpredictable and surprisingly fast. I hope Cyril will keep an eye on him.
“Hey, Beaufort, it's a pity you can't play,” one of the substitutes suddenly says. His
name is Matthew, but I don't think we've ever spoken a single word.
“Oh, that's a pity,” someone else says.

– I don't understand what this punishment is for. It was a great number.
– And besides, it's your last year at school. There's no point in spending the last one
season on the bench.
Okay, enough of this. I stand up abruptly. Without a word, I move forward, to the edge
of the pitch. I'm glad I'm wearing sunglasses. Not only
because today, for October, the sun is shining so damn bright, but most of all because
thanks to them no one can see how bad I feel.
I stand some distance from Coach Freeman and watch the field with my arms
crossed. It's a nightmare to look at your team and not be able to do anything. After the
first whistle, it takes less than five minutes for the opponent to score the first goal.
Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Ruby and
her friend Lin. They run onto the pitch and stop near the stands. They both have
messy hair and rosy cheeks. Ruby curses loudly. She hasn't noticed me yet, so I have
the opportunity to discreetly look at her.
While most students show up to games in our team's T-shirts or regular clothes,
she wears a uniform. He's holding a tripod in one hand, a notebook in the other, and
on his back, as always, is that ugly backpack that looks like it's about to fall apart at
any moment. And it's the color of vomit, tone on tone, but somehow Ruby looks cute
with it. Like a Ninja Turtle. A disheveled Ninja Turtle with a blush on his cheeks.
I approach them stealthily and watch as they set up a tripod, probably an expensive
one, and mount the camera on it.
– Help you? - I'm asking.
Ruby turns to me and looks at me with wide eyes. Apparently she still hasn't gotten
used to the idea of me trying to be friends with her. Throughout the week, I greeted
her in the hallway, and each time she flinched, as if she wasn't used to people talking
to her outside of class.
– Did we miss something? – she asks, out of breath. He looks out at the field and
then back to Coach Freeman. However, he was so absorbed in the match that he
didn't notice that Ruby and Lin were late.
“Ridgeview scored on us,” I say.
Ruby writes it down in her notebook.
– Great, thanks a lot.
Lin, meanwhile, turns on the camera, adjusts the settings and starts taking photos.
Both of them passionately document the course of the match.
And suddenly I find myself watching Ruby rather than my team.
We'll be tearing Ridgeview down soon, but no matter how much I want to, I can't enjoy
it. When Cree assists two goals and scores the third one himself in the second half, it
occurs to me that the boys don't score at all
they don't need me. I would love to turn on my heel and walk away, and I don't really
know why I don't.
Instead, I stand firm on the edge of the pitch and let it all happen with an impassive
face, applauding when we score a goal, cursing loudly when the opponent attacks,
and in the meantime answering all of Ruby and Lin's questions.
An hour and a half later, I don't feel like I've just conquered the world like I usually
do after winning a match. I'm just exhausted and I feel like I can't stand here any
longer. Just the thought of going to Cyril's party tonight and listening to everyone's
expressions of sympathy because they saw me on the bench today makes me feel
sick. Without a word, I turn around and, before the boys even run off the field, I walk
towards the school. I take my phone out of my pocket and call Percy to come pick
me up.
– James!
I look over my shoulder.
Ruby runs after me. Her fringe and wind are a bad combination, with individual
strands sticking straight up. He notices my gaze and presses his hand against them.
This is one of her reflexes that really caught my eye this past week. Now I know that
she carries a tiny comb in her pencil case and reaches for it when she thinks no one
is watching.
- What is?
- Everything's all right?
Why do you ask? No one ever asks me about it because no one really cares if
I'm okay.
And anyway, even if it's not the case, most people fear me too much and respect
me too much to ask me such a question.
“It's probably a bad feeling watching other people play,” he notes quietly.
- Fact.
He shifts restlessly from one foot to the other.
– Would you rather be left alone?
I do not know. I scratch the back of my neck and shrug. Fortunately, Alistair
makes it so I don't have to answer that question. He runs sweaty across the lawn
and stops next to us.
– Beaufort! And where is it, my friend?
Okay, this question is worse than the one Ruby asked.

- To home.
– Hey! Have you forgotten? Today we celebrate at Cyril's.
No, I haven't forgotten, but Cyril's party is the last thing I want to do. But I won't tell
Alistair that. And our team won, I am still its captain, although temporarily suspended. I
can't help but celebrate this victory with my boys. Not to mention that I don't have the
slightest desire to answer the questions that would have arisen had I not come that evening.
– Of course. - Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ruby's expression change dramatically.
I try not to look at her.
– Don't frown, man. It will be great. We have the whole house to ourselves.
I just mutter something under my breath.
- Hey, Ruby, why don't you come over too? I give Alistair a warning look, but he glances
between Ruby and me with a smile.
“You don't have to,” I quickly assure her. Cyril's party is definitely not the right place for
a girl like her. – I doubt you'll like it.
When Ruby frowns, I realize I said exactly the wrong thing. She looks like I'm challenging
her, even though I was trying to achieve the opposite effect.
– How do you know what I like and what I don't like?

Alistair chuckles to himself. I give him a murderous look. He did
it's on purpose. He knows perfectly well what such events look like and what happens there.
– I'd love to come, Alistair. Thank you for inviting me, he replies
Ruby with a smile so sweet it can't be sincere. - Where and when?
Alistair opens his mouth to answer her, but then I spring into action.
- I will pick you up.

Ruby stiffens.
– You don't have to, James.
– No problem, I'll pick you up on the way.
Ruby raises her eyebrows questioningly.
– Do you even have a driving license?

Alistair whistles significantly under his breath. He obviously likes that I'm
getting my ears punched in front of him. I look at Ruby and shake my head.
"Percy will drive us, if you don't mind."
He is smiling from ear to ear.
– I have absolutely nothing against it.
"Percy, what?" He's not bad, that's a fact. He has something of Antonio Banderas in him,
says Alistair.
– I noticed that too! Ruby laughs. And I'm getting hot.
Cholera. Why can't I keep my cool around her?
I promised Lydia I'd keep an eye on her, and that's all we have in common, nothing
more. I just have to repeat it to myself over and over again.
"Okay, Percy will be there at eight."
Ruby nods.
- Excellent.
Ruby
Cyril Vega lives in the largest, most impressive house I have ever seen. I
don't even know if the word "home" is the right word to describe what is
growing before my eyes. The garden we entered when Percy showed his
ID to the guard at the gate stretches on forever. I look around and
everywhere I see only a carefully trimmed lawn and symmetrically planted
trees and bushes.
James and I finally get out of the car. I stop for a moment, throw my head
back and take in the impressive façade.
Tall columns on both sides of the entrance and an impressive balcony above
the door bring to mind residences from bygone eras.
James is unimpressed by the splendor surrounding us as we run up the
white stairs towards the huge doors. No wonder at all. Firstly, Cyril is one of
his best friends, secondly, the house he lives in is probably at least as big. I
feel like I'm getting hot and cold alternately.
What am I doing here anyway?

I swore I would never go to one of these weird parties. But one stupid comment from
James was enough to awaken my fighting spirit. I simply had to do something different
than he wanted, which in hindsight seems terribly stupid and childish. I've been mad at
myself since Monday because my trip with James made me invisible at Maxton Hall, and
now I'm going with him to this party where a lot of people from school will also be there.
This afternoon I didn't think for a second about what this would mean for me.
Rumors about us will start again and they probably won't stop anytime soon.
You can already hear the music and voices of the guests outside. For a split second I
consider faking a sudden illness and running away to where the pepper grows. But I won't
give James that satisfaction. So I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt and clear my throat.
James glances at me sideways, but I ignore his gaze. My companion opens the front door.
We find ourselves in a hall so impressive that for a moment I forget about my

nervousness. Marble everywhere, furniture in pastel colors and white and gold accents.
A huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling, two staircase wings lead symmetrically, on the
right and left, to the gallery.
At first glance, you may get the impression that the party is taking place throughout
the house. The music seems to be coming from another room, but there are also guests
milling around here in the hall. Nobody pays attention to us. I breathe a sigh of relief.
– What are they doing there? – I ask James and point to about twenty people standing
in the gallery.
“They play a weird version of beer pong, Cyril's specialty,” he replies.
I watch the guy drop something from above - ping-pong balls, I realize after a moment.
They cover the hall where there is a row of cups.
Some go inside, but others are scattered throughout the hall.
The boys scream in triumph, the girls squeal, and then everyone drinks.
- I do not understand this.
“Me neither,” he admits.
- You are! – someone suddenly thunders above us. I look up and see Cyril swinging
his leg over the railing and sliding down to the ground floor. Just the sight of it makes me
sick. Wren is right behind him, but he chooses the traditional route and runs down the
stairs. On the way, he tilts his head and drains his glass.
Cyril is the first to arrive, greeting James with a bear hug and patting him
on the back.
– I hope you were proud of us today.
I feel James stiffen next to me.
“Of course,” he replies in a neutral tone that neither shows joy nor betrays
how angry he must have been today if he couldn't play himself.
Cyril shifts his gaze to me.

“And you are…” He looks at me with his icy blue eyes.
He looks at my white blouse with blue stripes and my black pleated skirt and
looks like he's about to wrinkle his nose.
In the ass. As if he looked better just because his black shirt probably cost
more than my entire outfit.
“Ruby,” James joins in. He introduces us to himself. – Ruby, this is Cyril.
–Ruby! Alistair said he invited you. – He's coming towards us
smiling Wren. I resist the impulse to turn my head.
“Hi,” I say, struggling to smile.
He greets James, then looks back at me. I understand perfectly what he
wants to tell me with that dirty, superior look: this is my world. Here I hold all
the cards in my hand.
The next moment James puts his hand on my back.
– Cyril, be a decent host and offer us something to drink.
He says it in that tone of his: It's me, James Beaufort. And although I
would never allow him to order me around, I don't think his friends are
impressed. They laugh and lead us deeper into the house, behind the stairs.
Along the way, Cyril picks up a few balls and tosses them into the air, then
opens the door to the large living room.
There are at least fifty people in a room slightly smaller than the hall. They
talk or dance. The music is deafening and there is so much smoke in the air
that it makes my eyes water.
You can count the parties I've been to so far on the fingers of one hand. It
was small gatherings in our park in Gormsey and, once and for all, a
classmate's birthday. She invited me out of courtesy. I went because my
mother insisted that I get to know people at school better. I ended up
standing in the corner for half the evening, moving stiffly to the rhythm of the
music, and deep down I was counting the seconds until I could go home.
But what's happening here is a completely different story. Instead of cheap beer
in plastic cups, people drink expensive drinks from crystal glasses. The music does
not come from a boombox, but from a complex system of speakers hidden in the
walls. And I see an awful lot of nudity everywhere.
So this is how the elite party.

I look around and try to remember everything. The bass is so low that the floor
vibrates under my feet. Only after a while I notice the winter garden connected to
the living room. It has a huge illuminated swimming pool, which I will definitely stay
away from.
Several people swim in it in their underwear and playfully spray those on the shore.
The others sit with cigarettes and drinks on velvet sofas that look very old and
probably cost a fortune.
The situation overwhelms me to such an extent that it takes me a while to realize
that my companion is talking to me.
- I'm listening?
James leans over me so that his mouth is level with my ear.
-What would you like to drink, Ruby Bell?

I shiver and my arms get goosebumps. I don't pay attention to either one or the
other.
– Coke, if available, and if not, water.
James pulls back a little and looks into my eyes.
– Do you mind if I have a drink?
- NO. – I shake my head vigorously.
- Cool. Be right back.
The next moment he disappears with Cyril. Wren, on the other hand, stays
and he looks at me again with that knowing smile on his face.
– You really don't drink anything? – I hear the provocation in his voice. It takes a
lot for me not to turn on my heel and walk away. Or not yell at him in front of all
those people. But since I managed to ignore him for two whole years, I'm not going
to let a few stupid comments get me down now.
“Really,” I answer succinctly.

Wren comes closer. I instinctively take a step back.
"I wonder why, Ruby," he murmurs, taking a step closer until I feel him
wall behind my back. – Have you had unpleasant experiences with interest rates?
I can smell the alcohol on his breath and only now notice how dilated his pupils are.
I wonder if it's just the whiskey or something else.
“Wren, you know perfectly well why I don't drink,” I say coolly and straighten up. If
he doesn't leave me alone, I'm going to really hurt him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a dark chest of drawers on the left side, with numerous
statuettes and a lamp on it.
I can defend myself.
“I remember that evening very fondly,” Wren replies. His left hand rests on the wall
next to my head.
“But I don't,” I say through my teeth. He used to leave me alone at school.
He had never made any allusion to that evening two years ago. Why now?
- Really? – he asks hoarsely and leans towards me.

Short circuit. I push him away with all my strength with both hands.
– Wren, I really don't want to repeat it.
He takes my hands in his and intertwines our fingers. Terrified, I look around.
– I still remember what you whispered to me then.

– Only because you got me drunk.
– Really? – And that dirty smile again. – Alcohol awakens the hidden
desires, Ruby. You wanted this at least as much as I did.
I still as the memory of that evening finally comes back in full force: Wren's panting
breath, his restless hands on my body.
Just the thought makes me feel hot. On the one hand, out of shame, on the other,
because I really liked it at the time. It still makes me sick to this day remembering how
it happened.
Wren opens his mouth to say something else, but then it's behind his back
comes another voice, strong and bored at the same time.
– Leave her alone, Fitzgerald.
Wren's eyes widen. Surprised, I look past him. Lydia came up to us. He gives Wren
a nervous look, then wordlessly takes my hand and leads me away from him and into
the room.
It's only when we're out of earshot that he looks at me with raised eyebrows.
– Who would have thought that you were hiding a dark secret?
I panic and instinctively clench my fists. But before I can
to speak, he throws up his hands. An amused smile appears on her lips.
- Relax. I won't tell anyone.
I look at her and it takes me a moment to realize what she said.
“I don't care who finds out about it,” I say angrily, although both of them do
we know this is a complete lie.
If it were possible, I would love to erase that evening from my memory. I was fifteen
at the time and had just started at Maxton Hall. It was the first party I had ever attended,
and I was so excited and nervous that I eagerly drank down every cup of punch Wren
gave me. I had no idea that he was pouring alcohol from his flask into each of them to
get me drunk. And when he later dragged me into the hall and kissed me, I was euphoric.
Wren is one of the most handsome boys I have ever seen. And he wanted me. The
thought that it was with him that I had my first kiss was as intoxicating as alcohol.
It wasn't until the next morning that I realized how wrong he had been, getting me
drunk against my will, and how naive I had been. I haven't touched alcohol since then.
Lydia raises an eyebrow questioningly.

- Really? I thought you cared more about your reputation.
“The fact that Wren got me drunk and kissed me while I was drunk won't ruin my reputation.
Whatever the case, I didn't have an affair with the teacher.
As soon as I said these words, I immediately regretted them. Lydia is as white as a
wall. He takes a step towards me with a menacing face.
“You promised you would keep your mouth shut…” He stops suddenly
and moves away from me.
– Here you are. – James comes over to us and hands me a glass with Coke, ice and
a slice of lemon. Sam is holding what appears to be a very expensive crystal glass with
a brown liquid in it. He slowly moves his eyes between me and Lydia and back again. -
Everything's all right?
– Little brother, can you bring me something to drink? My glass is already empty, says
Lydia and flutters her eyelashes comically.
James rolls his eyes, but takes the dish from her and turns on his heel to head towards
the bar. No sooner is he gone than Lydia becomes serious again. He looks at me coldly. I
swallow hard. I regret coming here. I would rather be at home, where I would be
comfortable and safe.
It's completely different here. This is an adventure I'm not ready for.
“Listen,” I start before he threatens me again. – I'm sorry for what I said.
Opens and closes mouth. Until he finally looks me in the eye skeptically.
- I'm listening?
“I have nothing against you,” I continue. – And I don't care what's in between
you and Mr. Sutton. I won't tell anyone your secret.
Lydia presses her lips into a thin line.
– I just want to have peace and quiet – I continue.
– Why should I believe you? - He narrows his eyes suspiciously. – But I don't know you
at all.
- That's true. But James knows me. I promised him.
– Did you promise him? – she repeats, as if she wasn't sure of the meaning of these words.
– Yes – I answer after a moment of hesitation.
Lydia stays silent and looks at me suspiciously, then her expression changes. The
skeptical expression gives way to understanding, as if the pieces of the puzzle in her head
fell into place. He's not looking at me anymore, just somewhere over my shoulder.
“So that's it,” he finally says.

Startled, I turn around to see what she means. I see James at the bar. He picks up
each bottle one by one and carefully studies the labels.
- What and how? - I'm asking.

He smiles at me soothingly.
– Don't worry, you're not the first.
I have no idea what he's talking about.
– Many girls fell for his charm.
Then it hits me. I can't control myself, I burst out laughing.
I catch her off guard.
- What's so funny?
– I don't know if you've heard this before, but the same can be said about your brother
everything but that it has charm.
She looks at me like she doesn't know whether to shout at me or laugh. James
saves her from trouble because she comes back to us at this very moment.
“Here, for you, little sister,” he says and hands her a drink.
He glances at the glass, but then returns his gaze to me.
"I'm keeping an eye on you, Ruby." - With these words, Lydia turns on her heel
and disappears into the crowd.
– What was that supposed to mean? – James asks irritably and looks away from
his sister before disappearing among the other guests. As I only shrug in response,
he frowns. – What did she tell you?
- Nothing special. He doesn't trust me and doesn't believe that I will keep my mouth shut.
James looks around the room. He makes it seem like he has to think carefully
about his next words, like he doesn't know whether he can say it to me or not.
– It's not easy for her to trust anyone.

I give him a questioning look.
– Ruby, few people would keep such a secret to themselves. - Shrugs. - On the
contrary. Ninety percent of people would sell this tidbit to the tabloids or try to
blackmail us. It wouldn't be the first time that someone would spend time with us
just to learn the delicious secrets of our family. – When he says this, he avoids my
eyes, still observing the dancing crowd in the middle of the living room.
– It's hopeless.
The corners of his mouth lift slightly.
- Fact.
I never thought about it that way. Admittedly, that doesn't explain it
James' behavior, but it makes me understand him a little better.
– I wonder what I'm doing here if no one trusts me.
His eyes wander thoughtfully over my face. He raises his hand as if to touch me,
but then he lowers it and takes a sip from the glass that was actually for Lydia. His
second drink.
“You're here because Alistair invited you,” he finally says.
“Oh, yes,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that still tickles my chin.
-Alistair. If it were up to you, I wouldn't be here.
– That's not the point.

– So what? – I have no idea why it bothers me so much
think he didn't want me to be here.
"It's just not your place, Ruby."
I feel like he stabbed me in the heart. Such a small dagger. It costs me a lot
not to show my pain.
“That's not what I had in mind,” he says immediately. Obviously
I'm not as good at not showing pain as I thought.
- Of course. – I turn around and look through the sliding glass at the swimming
pool, which someone has just jumped into fully clothed. A moment later, James
stands in front of me and blocks my view.
- Not really. I just wanted to say that the thought of you being around certain
people gives me a bad feeling. Sooner or later they will try to involve you in
something. I feel responsible for you.
– Thank you very much, I can take care of myself – I reply sharply.
And he stares at me again. I take a tiny sip of Coke to break the eye contact.
When he looks at me like that, I feel hot, and it's already very stuffy in here.
– I absolutely don't want to be a nuisance to you. Act like you always do, I
finally say and make an arc with my hand, enclosing the entire room.
Let James do what he usually does at such events. I don't want him to take care
of me like a little child.
He nods and downs his drink. And then he takes the glass from my hand and
puts it on a low table. The next moment he comes back to me and takes my
hand. He drags him through the crowd, to the center of the room, among the
dancers. My heart is racing and I wonder what the hell he's thinking of as he
pulls me closer to him. I touch his chest, he squeezes my hand for a moment,
then lets go and starts moving to the music. James Beaufort dances next to me.
He smiles at me and sways his hips.
- What are you doing? – I ask, surprised. I'm the only one on the dance floor
stiff as a pin.
“The usual thing at these parties,” James replies.
And again I see the challenge in his eyes and I can't help but take it.
I try to imitate his movements. When someone nudges me from behind, I bump into them
him. James grabs my waist to keep my balance. My throat goes dry, my heart beats faster
and faster. When I look up at him, a wave of heat washes over me. We cling to each other
so tightly that it would be impossible to slide even a piece of paper between us.
Someone shouts triumphantly next to us. I tear my eyes away from James
and I look around. At least five pairs of eyes are staring at us.
I think I've completely lost my mind. It is true that we manage to coexist peacefully, but
here it is a completely different matter. And since I don't want even more rumors about
me to spread around school, I need to get off the dance floor as soon as possible.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I choke out. James immediately pulls away. I see
understanding in his eyes, but I'm too lost to think about it at the moment. With a
movement of his head, he points to the left corner of the living room, from where a long
corridor emerges.
– First turn right, second door on the left.
I push through the dancing guests and run down the hall. Its walls are decorated with
oil portraits of members of the Vega family, the wallpaper shimmers green and gold in the
glow of the lamps. The dark red carpet under my feet is covered with elaborate patterns
reminiscent of animals.
I turn right as James directed. The corridor is empty.
I lean against the wall.
I really have no idea what I'm doing here. Apart from the fact that this is absolutely not
my place, James baffles me. His touch, his stares, his husky voice - if I didn't know better,
I might have thought he was flirting with me.
When he stood on the threshold of our house on Monday and said that he didn't want
things to be the same, I didn't expect something like this would come out of it. Is this how
she dances with all her friends?
Probably so.
Maybe I should just see it all as a task. Design.
These are my schoolmates, whether I like it or not. And if I get to Oxford, I will meet them
and many other descendants of wealthy families there.
I take a deep breath, clench my fists, and with a burst of courage, I break away from
the wall. I'll go to the bathroom and then come back to the living room and finish my drink
a coke and a dance with James. Because what could possibly happen to me? If
they're going to talk about me anyway, I can at least have fun.
With this resolution, I reach the door a few steps away, on the left side of the
throne. I open it, convinced that the bathroom is behind it.
The room is almost dark, except for the light coming from the corridor. It takes a
moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then I see the outline of a large
desk, a cozy sofa and... a whole lot of shelves with books.
It's definitely not a bathroom... It's a library!

I hesitate only for a moment, and then I look inside curiously. There are more
books on the first shelf than in our entire house.
I smile, take another step… and then I hear it.
Heavy breathing. A muffled sigh.
Turn around and leave, the persistent voice in my head repeats, but it's too late
for that. Suddenly I notice Alistair leaning against one of the shelves at the back of
the library. He throws his head back and moans loudly at this very moment.
A quiet click.
-I'll stop if you don't stay quiet.
I freeze. I know that voice. Low, deep, slightly hoarse.
“No,” Alistair whispers and drops his head forward.
The boy kneeling in front of him slowly gets up.
– Ask nicely.
Alistair tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls him closer. The boy rests his hands
on the shelf behind his head and kisses back. And then I recognize him.
Keshav.
I take a deep breath. Keshav, meanwhile, moves his lips lower and lower to
Alistair's neck.
At this moment, he notices me at the door.
–Kesh, stop it! – she whispers nervously and pushes him away.
I turn on my heel and run out of the library and into the corridor. Panicked, I look around and
decide to go back to the living room. I squeeze through the dancers again. Their faces melt
before my eyes. I'm looking for James.
I spot him with Lydia, Cyril and Wren near the pool.
They talk, Wren gesticulating exaggeratedly.
I need a moment to get myself together. Why the hell do I keep catching
couples trying to keep a low profile in explicit situations? Since when have I
been interested in other people's secrets? It is not normal.
It takes a lot for me to regain even some semblance of composure. Once
again this evening I change my mind. I can't have fun here.
I will never get used to these people in my life.
I want to go up to James and ask him to take me home, but he's standing so
close to the pool that I still hesitate. The sight of water makes me sick. Finally,
I gather the courage and enter the winter garden. I stop some distance from
them, against the wall.
Wren notices me first.
- There it is.
I nod at him, and my heart drops as James closes the distance between us.
I would never have expected that at a party I would be the person who made
me feel the best, but that's exactly what happened today.
He is my support and I have to resist the impulse to hold his hand.
- Everything's all right? – he asks. I see another glass in his hand,
again with brown liquid. I also see a slight blush on his cheeks.
“I'd like to go home,” I say quietly, out of breath.
James frowns, but then nods. Apparently I'm on the verge of a nervous
breakdown. He finishes his drink and sets the glass down on the small table.
- Clearly.
– Oh come on, have mercy. Since when do you leave my parties before 4
a.m.? – Cyril asks, offended.
“Since I have someone to take me home,” James replies and looks at him with unreadable
eyes. And that arrogant, impassive face again.
-Ruby, don't be like that. Leave us a buddy,” Wren interjects, then crouches
down and sprays me with pool water. When the drops fall on my skin, I feel like
the air is escaping from my lungs.
“Stop it,” I hiss. I don't recognize my own voice, it's so high and shrill.
– What are you, made of sugar? – Cyril jokes. He is shirtless and wearing black
swimming trunks. His hair is still wet after bathing. He comes towards us. I instinctively
dig my fingers into James' arm. It doesn't matter what they think.
“Cy, leave her,” James pleads, but this time even his commanding tone doesn't
work. Cyril looks at me like a predator, and then in one bound he's at my side,
snatching my purse and giving it to a smiling Lydia.
“Cyril, I'm warning you…” I start out of breath, but it's too late. He scoops me up in
his arms, though there's not an ounce of tenderness in it, and carries me to the pool.
I scream even more when I hit the water surface with force. And then we disappear
below the surface and my heart stops in my chest.
Because I'm no longer in the Vega house, but in a murky yellow-green lake. I'm
not seventeen, but eight. And I can't swim, I'm at the mercy of the icy water. I can not
breathe.
The algae pulls me deeper. I am unable to move. Arms and legs
they refuse to obey me. I have no control over my body at all.
The pressure in my chest increases. And finally, I have no choice but to breathe
water.
OceanofPDF.com
17
James
Wren and my sister laugh out loud, Cyril comes to the surface and splashes on us, and I
keep staring at Ruby, who now looks like a dark, blurry spot under the water. At first she
was shaking like crazy, but now she doesn't move at all. Something is wrong.
“If she'd known that we already knew this trick about playing dead, she'd have skipped
this circus,” Wren remarks and reaches out to Cyril to help him out of the pool.
Ruby still doesn't come to the surface. I know in my heart that something is very wrong.
My heart is pounding like crazy. I move back and accelerate.
“James, I don't think she's really…” I don't hear the rest of Lydia's sentence because
I'm diving headfirst into the pool. With quick movements, I swim to Ruby, put my arm
around her and pull her up.
He doesn't move.
“Ruby,” I gasp once we're back on the water. I shake her. –Ruby!
Suddenly he throws his arms around my neck. He starts coughing and gasps for air
with his mouth. I hold her close to me so that she doesn't disappear under the water again.
He has no self-control.
– Get me out of here! – he asks hoarsely. – Get me out of here!
I nod and swim to the edge of the pool. I lift her by her hips and sit her on the slab. She
coughs uncontrollably, violently, to get rid of all the water she has inhaled into her lungs. I
pull myself up on my arms and sit next to her, holding her as she chokes.
– Take me away from here. – Her hoarse whisper shakes me to my core. I get up and
help her get back on her feet. She bowed her head, but I can still see the tears on her face
her face is mixed with water drops. When he stands on his own again, he still
wobbles. I feel her whole body shaking, so I bend my knees and take her into my
arms. He doesn't protest, he just hides his face in my neck so no one can see he's
crying. Furious, I turn to Cyril, who is no longer laughing.
“Fucking fool,” I say through my teeth. I'd rather shout it in his face, but I don't
want to scare Ruby. All the time, with the girl in my arms, I turn around and go out
the back door from the winter garden to the outside.
It takes a while before Percy comes to pick us up, but he does bring dry towels
and clothes to change into. Ruby avoids my eyes as I wrap the towels around her
and start drying her off. He's shivering all the time. Percy silently hands me another
towel, which I wrap around her head.
I gently squeeze the water out of my hair. I'm probably overreacting, but I will rub her
back until she stops shaking. Even if it had to last all night.
Suddenly, sobs shake her body. I freeze. It hurts so much to see such a strong
person in despair. I have no idea how to behave.
All I can do is continue to dry her, gently stroke her back, and ask Percy to hand me
the Maxton Hall sweatshirt he also brought.
– Are you able to unbutton your blouse? – I ask gently.
Ruby didn't seem to hear me.
Since I don't believe that she will be able to unbutton anything with her trembling
fingers, after a moment's thought, I put her blouse over her head, lower it and feel
around unbuttoning her blouse under the fabric. Then I carefully slide it off my
shoulders and help me slip my arms into the sleeves of my sweatshirt. I'm about to
put her hood back on when she raises her hands and grabs my shoulders. His
fingers are ice cold all the time.
The next moment he drops his head forward onto my chest and breathes deeply.
I can feel her tremors even in her breathing. It's terrible to see her like this.
“It's all my fault,” I say hoarsely.

Ruby lifts her head from my chest and looks up. Her eyes still gleam suspiciously,
but now I feel like she's more or less pulled herself together. She looks like Ruby
again. A combative, stubborn Ruby who doesn't take anyone for granted
he'll let himself be blown away. A huge burden has been lifted from my heart, and
at the same time my soul is heavy.
I turn away from her and unbutton my shirt to put on the other sweatshirt Percy
brought.
“Come on, let's take you home,” I finally say and hold the door of the Rolls-
Royce for her.
He gets in. I take a seat next to her in the backseat. As Percy starts the engine,
I lower my head back into the seat. Suddenly I smell alcohol again. The world
seems to be spinning faster than it should.
Ruby moves next to me. I glance at her sideways. She lowered the sleeves of my blue
sweatshirt to my fingertips, so that even her hands disappeared under the material. Suddenly
I have an overwhelming desire to touch her. I quickly look away.
“I'm terrified of water,” he whispers in silence.

It costs me a lot not to look at her. However, I feel more confident when I look
out the window rather than at her.
- Why?
It takes a moment for him to answer.
– My dad loved going fishing. In the past, he always took me on the boat with
him, and we went to a different lake every weekend. When I was eight, we had
an accident.
She tenses at my side and suddenly I know she's reliving terrible memories
right now. His breathing is shallow and uneven. But now I reach for her hand and
embrace it through the material. She seems small and fragile, although I know
Ruby is not.
- What happened?
– We were hit by a larger boat. The helmsman didn't see us at all. Ours fell to
pieces, dad was seriously injured. He suffered a serious spine injury.
I squeeze her hand lightly.

– Since then, he has been in a wheelchair. And I'm terrified of water, he adds.
I have a feeling there's a lot more to this story, but I won't pursue it further.
What she told me is enough to give me an idea of what she felt when Cyril threw
her into the pool.
“I'm so sorry,” I say, and at that moment I feel like a total asshole. She just
shared with me one of her most favorite things
traumatic memories, and all I can manage are trite platitudes.

– It's okay. You're not like your friends. – He slides his hand out of the sleeve
of his sweatshirt and shyly looks for mine. Our fingers intertwine. After a moment's
hesitation, I run my thumb over the back of her hand.
“That's not true,” I mutter vaguely. – I'm exactly like my friends. Even worse.
Almost imperceptibly, he denies with a movement of his head.

- Not now.
We spend the rest of the way in friendly silence. I think about what I just
learned. At some point, Ruby falls asleep, her head falling on my shoulder. He
holds my hand the whole time.
I thoughtfully brush my thumb over her skin, which is thankfully warm again.
Twenty minutes later we arrive at her house. The light is still on inside. I really
should wake her up, but I can't bring myself to do it, not when she looks so
peaceful.
"She's a nice girl, Mr. Beaufort," Percy's voice suddenly comes over the
speaker. I lean forward, even though the glass separates us. – Please don't ruin
it.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” I reply.
But I don't let go of her hand.
OceanofPDF.com
18
Ruby
Ember and I spend Saturday in pajamas. My parents went to visit friends and
we take advantage of the opportunity to have the entire kitchen at our disposal -
we bake chocolate cookies. We are just making sure that there is no piece of
raw dough left when the doorbell rings. We both freeze and look at each other
terrified. Then I quickly touch the tip of my nose with my finger. Ember groans
desperately as she realizes she's lost and runs to the hall.
A moment later I hear an authoritative, well-known voice.

– Hello, are you Ember? I'm Lin. Where's your sister?
I need to talk to her immediately.
Before I can blink, Lin is standing in front of me and shoving his phone under
my nose.
– Just don't tell me it's really you.
At first I stare at her in disbelief. Lin visits my house for the first time. She had
come to pick me up several times so far, but then she always waited in the car
on the street. In fact, her presence should make me nervous. Whatever the
case, she goes to Maxton Hall and is therefore a part of my life that I want to
keep away from my family at all costs. But the longer it sits in our kitchen, the
more it becomes clear to me that the opposite is actually true.
I'm glad she came here. Our recent quarrel proved to me that we are not only
school friends, but that we can be more to each other. Maybe it's time for me to
be brave enough to open up a bit.
I don't want to answer, so I shove the last piece of raw dough into my mouth.
Lin takes a few steps towards me until he's standing right in front of me, pushing
his phone so close to my face that I have to lean back to see anything in the
dark photo.
It shows James, from behind, carrying someone in his arms - a girl who has
put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.
You can't tell it's me, but I still feel like I'm blushing. I wonder how many other photos like
this are circulating around the school. And who has already seen them?
-Ruby? Lin asks, his voice suddenly a little softer. – What happened yesterday?
“I was at Cyril's party,” I finally answer. – I told you.
– Yes, you said that. I'm interested in how this happened here.
– For what? – Ember asks and takes her phone out of Lin's hand. His mouth
opens in surprise when he sees the photo. – Is that really you?
“Yes,” I admit, swallowing hard. I was hoping that today, with Ember, I would
be able to have some fun. I wanted to forget about last night, I wanted to escape
from the dizziness. What happened yesterday... I don't know what it was. Not to
mention the fact that I had to put it into words and digest it somehow.
“Tell me immediately what happened yesterday,” my sister says in a tone that

brooks no objections, which she definitely inherited from our mother.
I lean over to look into the oven. Unfortunately, the cookies aren't ready yet
and they won't save me from the questioning looks of Lin and Ember. I sigh softly,
place my glove on the counter and nod towards the dining room. We sit down at
the table. I start telling the story.
When I finish, they both look at me with completely different expressions.
Above all, Lin is skeptical. Ember, on the other hand, rests her chin on her hand
and smiles dreamily.
“This Beaufort seems really nice,” he sighs.
– But it's not! – Lin remarks in disbelief. – That guy you were talking about just
now… He can't be James Beaufort.
I just shrug in response. In hindsight, it also seems impossible to me that he
went so far as to defend me from his friends, but... that's how it was. And that's
not the end. He cared about me. He helped me change and acted like a
gentleman. He held my hand as I told him about the dad thing.
Last night changed everything between us. I feel it clearly.

I shudder as I remember his gaze and the way his fingers brushed my skin. I
was shivering and James thought I was cold all the time, even though I was
already warm by then. The way he touched me made me tremble, as if I were
made of thin, delicate porcelain.
“That's exactly what I meant when I told you to be careful,” Lin says, shaking
her head and pulling me back down to earth.
“I know,” I mutter. I wish I could forget what I felt when I disappeared

underwater.
“I can't believe Cyril actually did this,” Lin continues.
– When I see him, I'm going to get hit for this.
She looks so concerned and disappointed that once again I wonder if Cyril
is more than just a schoolmate to her. Is there something between them, and
if so, what exactly? Until now, she gasped whenever the topic of her love life
came up.
Perhaps this is the right time to try again, gently; Anyway, I just opened up to
her a moment ago.
However, Ember's next words startle me from my reverie.
– Luckily, James was there. – Her eyes look like they're about to turn into
little red hearts. – It's wonderful that he got you out of that party. In arms!
I can't believe it either. Especially when I think about how cold and arrogant
he was initially. It doesn't occur to me that this cold bastard is the same boy
who wrapped me in towels yesterday and gently stroked my back until I
stopped shivering. The same James who caused confusion in my thoughts
and last night visited me in dreams where his warm hands touched my bare
skin.
Not good. Not good. NO. All right.
“If it weren't for the photo evidence, I wouldn't have believed it myself,” Lin
remarks and stares at the photo. – How does a guy who is usually such an ass
suddenly act like a knight?
– Apparently he noticed that Cyril had crossed a line and that's why he took
action. Which proves there's some good in it too, Ember replies. She looks at
me and suddenly her expression changes. – Oh my.
Lin looks up.
- What is? – he looks at me and sighs loudly. –Ruby!

The emotional turmoil I feel clearly shows on my face.
– Okay, I don't know, okay? – I admit. “I actually hate him, but…” I stop and shrug
helplessly.
Ember looks like she wants to say something, but suddenly changes her mind.
– Let's see how our cookies are doing.

The three of us go to the kitchen, which is now filled with a delicious smell.
Ember and I take the cookies out of the oven, and Lin arranges them symmetrically
on a large platter. When we get back to the dining room, he elbows me in the side.
– There's nothing wrong with being attracted to someone you really can't stand.
I'm tempted to ask her if she knows this from personal experience. But when it comes
to her love life, Lin is so secretive that I can't bring myself to do it and just say, "You think
so?"
He nods affirmatively.
My thoughts immediately go back to James. I feel a tickle in my hand where he touched
it, and a wave of heat rises in my stomach as I remember him undressing in front of me.
– Although I still don't fully understand that it's Beaufort.

“Fucking king of the whole school,” Lin mutters and slumps onto the couch.
“I don't know how it happened either,” I admit and reach for the cookie.
It's actually still too hot, but I take a big bite anyway so as not to say anything more.
“Listen, if he really cared about you that much, he has my blessing,” my sister concludes
and reaches for the cookie as well.
He crosses his legs at the ankles and puts them on the table. - And what now?
Have you talked yet? Since yesterday?
I shake my head.
– Honestly, I was hoping for a pleasant day with my sister today.
Ember stands up like a prairie dog.

– You have to talk to him!
I look between her and Lin.
– Listen, there's nothing between us. We are only friends. – I feel weird calling
James a friend, but I can't think of anything else right now.
- Bright. Write to him now, encourages Lin. With a loud sigh, I take my phone out of
my pants pocket. I wonder for a moment what to write, until I finally decide on the
simplest one.
Thank you – RJB
I send the text and tuck my phone between the couch cushions so I don't have to
look at it.
– What did you write to him? – Ember asks.
– I thanked him.
Lin wrinkles her nose and finally she reaches for the cookie too. He breaks them
into four pieces and brings one to his mouth. It's rare for Lin to allow herself something
sweet. She cares very much about healthy eating and denies herself almost everything
that is tasty. I consider it a personal failure that I have not managed to convince her
that life with chocolate is much more pleasant.
My phone is vibrating. It costs me a lot not to reach for it right away. I would be
embarrassed in front of Lin and Ember for grabbing it so nervously.
Fortunately, neither of them can hear my heart beating frantically when I finally
unlock the screen and read the message.
You haven't told me what J – JMB stands for yet
I reply immediately.
Guess – RJB
James – J.M.B.
You're terribly self-centered, don't you think? – RJB
Jenna – J.M.B.
No – RJB
Jemima – J.M.B.
I'm impressed that you guessed it the third time - RJB
He doesn't reply for a long time. I stare at the dark display, aware of Ember and
Lin's curious glances. I don't really know what I'm waiting for until my phone comes to
life again after a few minutes.
You feel better?
No more initials. No more jokes. Suddenly my throat goes completely dry. I don't
want to think about last night, I don't want to think
about water or the fact that I embarrassed myself in front of a large part of the
school because I panicked. Most of all, I don't want to think about Monday and
what awaits me.
I'm afraid of Monday. They took photos of us.
Ember and Lin talk about something that has nothing to do with James or the
party. My sister turns on the TV. He takes the DVD out of the cabinet and puts it
in the player. I'm grateful that they leave me alone, especially when I read another
message from James.
Do not worry. The photo only shows my wet back.
I hold my breath. Did he just mean what he wrote or was it a veiled flirtation? I
have no idea. All I know is that I want it to continue to be like this between us.
At least that's the benefit of this photo.

I've been waiting for his reaction for a long time. So long that I'm starting to
regret writing it. We're almost halfway through the movie when my phone vibrates
once again.
Ruby Bell, I think you're flirting with me?
A smile appears on my lips. I hide it in my dressing gown.
And then I turn off my phone and concentrate on the movie with all my might.
OceanofPDF.com
19
Ruby
When I get off the school bus on Monday, James leans against the fence next to
the playground and greets me with a crooked smile.
After what happened at his parents' company a week ago, no
It would have occurred to me that I would be happy to see him waiting for me in the morning.
“Hi,” I start out of breath as I stop in front of him.
He smiles a little wider. Apparently he's happy to see me too.
- Hi.
His eyes wander over my face and that unfamiliar feeling in my stomach comes
again. I wonder if I would feel the same thrill now if he touched me as I did on
Friday. I quickly push the thought to the farthest corner of my mind.
– Are you my bodyguard?

The smile never leaves his face.
– I thought that we would go to the roll call together and protect you from
questions. – He nods towards the school and starts walking. I slip my fingers into
the straps of my backpack and follow him.
– How… How was the rest of your weekend? – I ask hesitantly.
– We had a family dinner yesterday.
Just enough. I glance at him sideways. He catches my gaze and the smile
slowly disappears from his face.
– My aunt Ophelia visited us. He and my father don't get along.
It takes my breath away for a moment that he would say something so personal.
I didn't expect it, especially not after he mentioned how painfully he and his sister
had been hurt in the past by people they trusted.
On the other hand, on Friday I also told him something about myself. I guess
he noticed that it didn't come easy for me. Maybe he feels the same way I do right now.
Maybe he has also noticed that something has changed and does not want us to return
to the tension and stress that accompanied us in the past.
Hope is growing within me. It's true that I have no idea what to call what brought us
together: is it friendship, something less, something more? But I'd love to find out, step by
step.
– Was there an argument?
James digs his hands into his pockets.

– Our family meetings are never conducted in a friendly atmosphere. Beaufort is
actually owned by my mother and her sister. But since my parents' wedding, my father
has taken over a lot of power and changed the way he manages the holding, which not
everyone likes, and certainly not Ophelia, he explains.
-She works in the company too? – I ask curiously.

James confirms with a nod of his head.
– Yes, but he has no say when it comes to mainstream activities.
She's five years younger than my mother, so she's always been kept a little to the side.
He mainly deals with daughter companies and those in which parents bought shares.
I wonder how Ember would feel if her parents left us the company, but she, being the
younger one, didn't have the right to vote. No wonder the atmosphere gets tense during
Beaufort family gatherings.
– She didn't like a lot of decisions lately, so the atmosphere was difficult to say the
least. But... it wasn't that bad. It's been worse, he adds with a shrug. Together we turn
into the alley leading to Boyd Hall.
The girl I go to history class with is ahead of us. His eyes widen when he sees us. I
tighten my fingers on the straps of my backpack and swallow hard. Despite this, I raise
my head proudly and stare back at her until she turns on her heel and quickly walks away.
“Not so combative,” James remarks and nudges me with his shoulder.

– What am I supposed to do? She stared at me, so I responded with this
alone.
James gets in my way so I can't go any further.
– You care too much when you should not care. Let them say whatever they
want.
– But it's not.
- And what about this? They don't need to know about it. Just make it seem like
you don't care. Then they'll leave you alone.
Suddenly his expression changes; half-closed eyelids, relaxed forehead, slightly
raised corners. This face screams: I don't give a damn. He looks so arrogant with
it that I would like to shake him as hard as I can.
-You look like you're asking for a beating.

– I look like I've been spanked. That's the difference," he replies and looks at
me. - Now you.
I try to replicate his expression. Judging by the twitching corners of his mouth,
I'm not very good at it.
– Okay, maybe at the beginning it will be enough if you don't look at everyone
around you as if you want to burn them with your eyes.
Let's move on. I take his words to heart. Still, I get more and more nervous as
we get closer to school. Just before I enter, James gently strokes my head. It
takes a second, no longer.
He's probably trying to encourage me, but suddenly I'm nervous for a completely
different reason. I don't know how he does it, but the slightest touch is enough to
make my world shake. It's a completely new feeling for me, different and strange.
But also beautiful in its own way.
– Beaufort! – sounds from behind us. I flinch reflexively. The other students
avoid us, hurrying to the roll call. We stop. James turns and, despite myself, I
follow him.
Wren and Alistair run up the stairs and stop next to us.
– Hello, Ruby. - Wren scratches the back of his head, almost confused. – Sorry
about Friday.
I'm not sure if he's just apologizing for the pool situation or also for the way he
treated me at the beginning of the party. I can't ask him about it if I don't want
James to know everything. He's probably only apologizing for James' sake, but it
still makes me happy. So I nod and say:
- No problem. After all, you didn't throw me into the pool.

Wren smiles in surprise, as if he expected a completely different reaction.
Almost reflexively, my eyes wander to Alistair, who is staring at me

without saying a word. One look was enough for me to know that he was
fully aware that I had caught him with Kesh in the library.
I smile cautiously, but he doesn't grimace back. His lips resemble thin
lines with no trace of blood.
– Shall we go in? – he says and looks ahead. We don't protest. We climb
the last steps together.
As we enter Boyd Hall, roll call has just begun. We discreetly take our
seats at the back of the room. Still, I feel the eyes of other students on me
as the news spreads who is with James Beaufort that morning. More and
more heads are turning towards us.
Meanwhile, Lexington's principal praises the lacrosse team for Friday's
victory.
I dare to look at James, but there is no emotion in his face, nothing to
suggest that the curious glances and whispers around us are bothering
him. So I swallow, purse my lips into a thin line and try to imitate him.
After assembly, James and Wren go to maths, and Alistair and I go to the east wing for
art history. Before we part, James whispers in my ear, "Think about the spanking."
Even though these words are innocent, I feel myself blushing. I ignore it
and follow Alistair, who has already started towards the hall. The atmosphere
between us is still tense and I think I should say something.
But despite my best intentions, I have no idea what.
Alistair makes this decision for me. Before we enter the room, he stops
and grabs my arm, pulling me aside and looking at me with a serious face.
“What you saw on Friday night…” he begins and stops. He watches a

group of students emerge from around the corner. He nods at them with a
fake smile and waits until they pass us and disappear into the room. Only
then does he look back at me. – You can't tell anyone about this.
“Of course not,” I answer just as quietly.
-No, Ruby, you don't understand. You have to promise me that. Swear you
won't tell anyone about this, he insists in a whisper.
– Where did the idea come from that I would do this? – I answer.
“I… It's just that…” He stops again as another group passes us
students. – Keshav doesn't want anyone to know.
I can see in his eyes how much it costs him to say that. And suddenly he's not
the same arrogant, rich bastard who attacks opponents on the lacrosse field.
Suddenly he seems very young and very sensitive.
No wonder at all. It's not easy being with someone who hides you like
shameful secret.
– I won't tell anyone, Alistair. I swear.
He nods, and for a moment I see the relief on his face, but then it changes
again. He looks at me contemptuously.
– If I find out that you told someone, I will turn your life into hell.
With these words, he enters the classroom without even giving me a single
glance.
The rest of the day goes better than I expected. A few people looked at me
strangely and whispered behind my back, but no one dared to speak to me or
ask me about Friday. Apparently James' morning company worked.
During my lunch break, I sit down with Lin as usual.

At least for a while, everything goes normally, until someone comes to our table.
- You can? – asks Lydia Beaufort.

Lin and I both turn our heads and look at her. He points to the chair next to Lin.
- Yes? – I answer, although it sounds more like a question.

Without hesitation, Lydia sits down across from me, spreads her napkin on her
lap, and begins to eat. Lin glances at me questioningly, but I just shrug in
response. I have no idea what James' sister is doing here.
Had he passed on to her the responsibility of taking care of me? Or she decided to follow
through with her resolution from Friday and keep an eye on me personally.
I glance at James, who is sitting at the other end of the cafeteria with his
friends. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me that the atmosphere at their
table is less carefree than usual. James and Alistair are discussing something
passionately, Keshav is playing with his phone and Wren is reading a book.
Only Cyril is nowhere to be seen.
“He doesn't know I sat with you,” Lydia says suddenly. He wipes his mouth
with a napkin and takes a sip of water. – Listen, I wanted to apologize to you for Friday.
“You didn't do anything,” I say, astonished.
He shakes his head.
– Both me and my friends went too far.

– And that's why you're having dinner with us? Lin asks skeptically.
Lydia shrugs.
– I saw them lurking. As long as I'm sitting here, no one will come near
you. – He points to a group of students who are looking at us curiously. When
they see me turning towards them, they look away and get lost in conversation.
“And I wanted to ask you how you're feeling,” Lydia adds.

I can't hide my surprise. When I remember our last exchange, I remember
her distrustful look. She didn't seem to care about my well-being, and I
automatically wonder if it was her concern for my condition after Friday's
swim that really drew her to our table. Despite this, I decide to answer her
question honestly.
– I would prefer this situation not to happen. But I feel good now.
– Cyril sometimes doesn't know when to stop, he says.
I shrug.
– But I've known him since I was a child. He actually thought it was funny,
he explains.
– “Funny” is the last word to describe it –
Lin notices and can't hide her surprise when Lydia nods.
– He overdid it. I told him so myself.
I look up from my plate of soup in surprise.
- Really?
- Yes of course.
At first I don't know what to say. Finally I decide: - That's nice of you.
Thank you.
Lydia smiles at me and leans over the pasta again.

Lin and I look at each other. Once again, I discreetly shrug my shoulders, and then
we start eating. After a while, Lin starts talking about her morning, which started badly
when her car wouldn't start. At first I find it strange to be chatting away like that in
Lydia's company, but she joins in on the conversation as if it's the most normal thing
in the world, and I finally stop wondering what's on her mind. Maybe she really just
wants to be nice and apologize to me. She wouldn't be the first in this family to surprise
me.
After eating, I reach into my backpack and take out a metal can
I place it in the middle of the table.
“Weekend cookies,” I say and take off the lid. – Dessert?
There's a twinkle in Lydia's eyes.
– Did you bake them yourself?
“With Lin and my sister,” I reply. – On Saturday, in pajamas.

“Sounds wonderful,” he replies and reaches for the cookie. – Much better than my
Saturday. – He sinks his teeth into them and chews religiously. – Wow, really delicious.
- Thank you. - I'm smiling. – James said you had guests.
– Yes, it's always… a special event. Honestly, I'd rather spend the day in my
pajamas.
I can't imagine Lydia in pajamas; whenever I try
I want to laugh.
After lunch, Lin and I are going to prepare for today's committee meeting.
I write the plan on the board and she spreads out the notes I printed in the office. Then
we wait for the others, who are slowly arriving.
James sits by the window as usual. He puts a black notebook in front of him and
crosses his arms over his chest. This familiar sight hurts me because it makes me
realize that, whether we get along or not, he's not here of his own free will. On the
contrary, while he is here, he cannot practice lacrosse and therefore it is a punishment
he hates.
-Ruby? – We don't know when Kieran came to see me.
- Yes? – I look up at him. Kieran is just a little bit ahead of me
higher. His dark hair falls over his face. He brushes them aside.
– I wanted to ask if you had a moment after the meeting. I found quite a few musical
bands and I would like to review them with you before we choose
the best three.

“I'll see in a minute,” I say and look at the calendar. There's nothing in it
apart from planning birthdays with my parents. - Bright.
Kieran smiles with relief.
– Super.
He returns to his seat, diagonally away from James. Our eyes meet. A sneer
appears on James' lips as he looks between Kieran and me.
- What is? – I ask silently.

James reaches for the phone. After a while, my display lights up.
It's coming at you.
I roll my eyes and ignore him.
– Okay, guys. Say what you have,” Lin begins and points to Jessalyn, sitting
to her right.
– I have various decoration offers. One of the companies you recommended
to us in particular made a really interesting proposal. – Jessa circulates the folder.
– Thanks for the leads, Beaufort.
I glance at James in surprise, who nods. Considering how often he looks out
the window or at the pitch, I didn't expect him to do anything. Especially since I
don't know about it.
“I've prepared some invitation designs,” Doug says and hands Lin a flash drive.
She connects it to the computer and opens the presentation. – The first project is
a classic, referring to the invitation from last year.
I look at the gold-plated letters on a black background, but before I can do anything
say, Camille says:
– It seemed to me that we wanted to definitely distance ourselves from last
year's party.
The others nod their heads affirmatively.
“Okay, so let's move on to the second suggestion,” Doug says and motions for
Lin to keep clicking.
The next invitation is in sharp, bright colors
typical of Halloween.
– Honestly, it doesn't look as elegant as I imagined
I imagined a Victorian ball, Kieran remarks after a moment's hesitation.
I nod to him.
– Unfortunately, Kieran is right.
Doug glances at Lin. He clicks next.

A whisper spreads around the room. I straighten up abruptly. The next moment I'm
leaning over the screen and narrowing my eyes at the invitation.
It resembles old paper. The inscription is stylized to look old, but clearly legible, and
underneath it... I am me. With James leaning into my hand as if asking me to dance.
This is one of the photos taken that Saturday in London. I can't believe that James
sent them to Doug without my knowledge.
I look up from the screen and look at James. He returns my gaze with shining eyes.
“Fantastic,” Jessa says after a moment. The others enthusiastically join her. – This
dress is simply divine. Don't you happen to have more of them? – he says to James.
He denies it with a movement of his head.

– And it's so good that I managed to arrange something.
– Doug, the invitation is phenomenal. – Lin turns to the screen to see them in their
full glory. He takes a few steps back. – But we can modernize the inscription a bit.
Maybe a different font?
“I agree,” I echo, and I hope my voice doesn't convey how disconcerted I am with the photo.
If we choose this design, my face will be all over the school, even all over Pemwyck. I don't
know if I'm ready for this. Unfortunately, I have no influence on this, everyone is delighted and
agreed that we will use the services of the same printing house as last time.
I look back at the photo again. I look at James in his Victorian costume, at my hand
in his. When I remember how I felt being so close to him, how much the air sparked
between us, I feel hot. I don't even dare look at him until the end of the meeting.
After gathering Jess, Camille and Doug say their goodbyes and leave. Kieran
comes over to me and we lean over Lin's computer to look at the orchestra selections.
At the same time, out of the corner of my eye, I see Lin approaching James. She sits
down next to him and starts talking. I frown as I watch him nod and write something
on his notebook. It takes me a while to realize that Kieran is talking to me.
– I'm sorry, what did you say?

“That it will be the best party we've ever hosted at Maxton Hall,” he replies
with a smile.
– Hopefully. We have been working on it for a very long time. Can't wait,
when will it finally happen?
- Me neither. You have to promise me one dance. – He keeps looking at me
from behind black eyelashes. I swallow hard.
It's coming at you.
Lin has been telling me this for months. Was she right? Until now, Kieran
had only been an ambitious little vampire to me, a year younger than us. I
thought he was being nice to me because he hoped I would recommend him
for my place next year. It never even occurred to me that he might like me.
Suddenly I realize how close he is sitting to me; our knees almost touch
under the table. I pull away and immediately get mad at myself.
The situation is very innocent. Why do I let James' words throw me off
balance? I shoot him a murderous glare just as he looks at me. Unlike me, he
doesn't do it furtively, but very openly. I'd love to stick my tongue out at him,
but since that wouldn't be very mature, I give Kieran a bright smile and nod.
– Of course. I just need to learn to dance myself.

“I'll show you at rehearsal,” Kieran promises, and I couldn't help but notice
the blush on his cheeks.
Damn it.
OceanofPDF.com
20
Ruby
On Saturday, I wake up at six, without an alarm clock, as I always do on my

birthday. I can't sleep, I'm so excited for the surprise my parents have planned
for me. Mom works in a bakery and on that day she always brings home the
most delicious cake in the world, and dad prepares a gala dinner and decorates
the whole house with me or Ember. At seven o'clock I hear them bustling about
and try to imagine what they are planning.
Whatever the case may be, eighteen years only end once.
I close my eyes and try to feel if something has changed in me, but I guess
not. Lin said the same thing in August. At least that's what she said as we lay
on the grass and stared at the stars after her birthday garden party.
I roll over and reach for my phone. Jessa has already sent me a text with
best wishes, Lin left two voicemails at half past two in the morning. I listen to
them. He sings Happy Birthday and wishes me all the best, and at the end he
assures me that we will both get into Oxford and that he is looking forward to it.
I get up, get dressed, sit at my desk and look through the calendar out of
boredom. The Halloween party will take place in exactly one week. It feels like
we've been preparing for this ball forever. On Friday morning, ready-made
posters were delivered from the printing house. We spent the time allocated for
the committee meeting hanging them in the corridors.
I needn't have worried. No one commented on the photo of me and James,
no one made fun of me for it. On the contrary, I encountered mostly very
positive reactions. The director of Lexington even wrote to me that outsiders
also liked the poster and invitation very much.
I still haven't gotten used to the fact that the entire Maxton Hall seems to
know my name now. I feel strange when every now and then someone
greets me in the corridor or invites me to their table in the canteen. However,
I try not to let it be known that this surprises me, but to act normally, as if all
this sudden popularity was indifferent to me. Yet
James does the same. He pretends he doesn't care, even though now I
know otherwise.
As if instinctively, I think back to Monday. It will change.
He is so withdrawn, but he looked at me so intently.
As if the most important thing in the world right now was to convince me he
was serious.
I shake my head to push away thoughts of James. But when I look back
at the calendar, a chill runs through me.
James.
I wrote his name and didn't even notice! I am getting hot.
I reach into my pencil case for the concealer. I start to paint over the first
letter, but then I put down the tiny tube and stroke the written word. I feel a
tickle in my fingertips. This is not a good sign. I've been wondering what this
actually means for several days now. No matter what, it's still... him. But I
can't deny that something has changed. For a long time now, when I see
him, I have been filled not with rage and distrust, but with something else.
Something warm and exciting. Then I smile instinctively because I'm happy
to see him. Because I enjoy his company. Because he is smart, intelligent
and I feel good around him. Because it is a puzzle that I want to solve at all
costs.
I never thought it would come to this, but... I don't despise James Beaufort
anymore. It's quite the opposite.
The door to my room opens and Ember peeks in.
Caught in the act, I forcefully close my calendar.
Ember glances at him suspiciously, as if she knows I've written down something
extremely embarrassing, but then with a broad smile she runs up to me, grabs my
hand and pulls me out of the chair.
“I'm surprised you haven't tried to get down yet,” he says. She pulls my
hand, even though she doesn't have to do it - I follow her with the greatest
pleasure.
We leave my room. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her towards me.
– Today you must fulfill all my wishes.

Although I am very happy, I notice that at this moment in my joy there is also a drop of
bitterness. This is the last birthday I will spend at home, with my family, with Ember. Who
knows where I will be next year. Really in Oxford? With Lin by your side? Or maybe all
alone?
What if I don't get in? Where will I go then?
Ember keeps me from getting lost in my thoughts as we barely make a turn
to the right, into the living room, she
announces: - Birthday girl!
I inhale loudly.
- Surprise! – everyone shouts.
I cover my mouth with my hand and feel tears forming behind my eyelids.
I rarely cry, if I do, I cry alone in my room so no one can see me.
But at the sight of my grandparents, aunt and uncle, cousin and parents singing Happy
Birthday to me together, I can't control myself.
The room looks beautiful. Dad and Ember have outdone themselves this year. White,
blue and mint green pompoms swing from the ceiling, a garland in the same colors
decorates the dining room table, and a little further, on the bench where gifts for me are
piled up, I also see two mint green balloons in the shape of the numbers one and eight.
For the next half hour I feel like I'm in a trance. Everyone wishes me, hugs me, asks
how I am feeling and, of course, gives me gifts.
From Uncle Tom, Aunt Trudy and Cousin Max I get a collected edition of My Hero
Academia, a manga I've been wanting to read for a long time, from Ember I get new
markers and cute stickers for my calendar, and from my grandparents I get two books that
are on the Oxford reading list. My parents give me a new external drive for my laptop,
which I've been dreaming about since my computer gave up the ghost for no particular
reason at the beginning of the year.
– And who is it from? – I ask and point to the large package that is still on the table.
“From a secret admirer,” my mother replies and waggles her eyebrows significantly.
I glance skeptically between her and my dad, who just shrugs.
“It came in the mail,” Ember adds.

– There is no sender? – I am surprised and suspiciously look at the black
box with a blue ribbon.
– I'm begging you, we all know who you got it from anyway – my sister
remarks.
“Jesus, you're not going to tell me you have a boyfriend,” Cousin Max calls and looks
at me with wide eyes.
- Yes! – Ember shouts.
- NO! – I shout.
“Finally open it,” Aunt Trudy pleads. She leans over my shoulder, stretches
out her hand as if she wanted to pull the ribbon, so at the last moment I take
the package. I sit on the couch with him.
I slowly untie the ribbon. I feel everyone's eyes on me and I look at them
meaningfully to tell them to leave me alone. Unfortunately, to no avail.
The room is as quiet as ever. With a loud sigh, I lift the lid of the box.
There is a bag in it. I hold my breath as I take it out and place it on my lap.
It is made of dark brown, smooth leather, has an adjustable strap and two
pockets on the front, under a large flap.
I lift it carefully. Inside, it is lined with a blue and green checkered fabric. I see
plenty of compartments, including a special laptop pocket and smaller ones on
the sides, closed with a zipper, and a large space in the middle.
With a bag like this I can conquer the whole world, I'm sure of it. I close it
carefully and stroke the expensive skin. Only then do I notice something that I
missed before. In the lower right corner of the flap there are three letters: RJB
My initials.
It takes my breath away. I feel like I'm in a dream. As if through a fog, I hear
the admiration of my loved ones. I look into the box. At the very bottom, among
the black tissue paper, I see a note made of cream paper with a gilded edge.
Written on it in black ink was: Happy
Birthday, Ruby. J
Just enough. And yet, feelings well up in my stomach and spread tingling
throughout my body. I don't know how to react
I can only stare at the bag until the numbers start dancing in front of my eyes.
This is definitely the most expensive gift I have ever received. But honestly, I
don't want to bother with that right now. I also don't want to have to wonder why
James made it for me in the first place.
Or maybe he saw that my backpack was about to fall to pieces?
He's guessing that I've been saving for months for a new bag for next year? Did
he feel sorry for me?
I don't know, and the more I think about it, the more dizzy I get.
“The boy has style, you have to admit it,” sighs Aunt Trudy.
“And money,” Max notes.
– I don't think he should have to pay for something that was created in a company he owned
his parents," Ember says.
– Guys, leave Ruby alone and sit down at the table. – Mom reminds everyone
about the upcoming celebratory breakfast. He comes to me. He takes the bag off
my lap, gently places it back in the box, and he grabs my hand and helps me up.
He embraces me and pulls me to him. – It's not nice to talk about a gift like that.
This young man made the effort. This is a beautiful gesture for which we should
be grateful. – He touches my nose with his finger. – Now you have to blow out
the candles.
We come to the table together. For ten years now, I have had only one dream
that runs through my mind every time I blow out my birthday candles: Oxford. But
this time one more word comes to my lips. I need to concentrate.
“You can have two wishes on your eighteenth birthday,” Dad says quietly.
I didn't even notice that he had approached me, but now he was gently stroking
my back. Apparently you can read everything that's happening to me right now in
my face.
– Yes, it's the unwritten law of turning 18 – adds my mother.
I blush and look away. I don't want to wonder why James' name was the first thing that
came to my mind. Or why I take my parents' word for it when I close my eyes and blow out
the candles.
This is one of my most beautiful birthdays. After a late breakfast, we go for a

walk and take a new family photo in the park in Gormsey, although it takes only
the tenth attempt because someone keeps looking in the wrong direction. In the
afternoon, Lin comes over and we all play games together
board games and puns. At the end, we manage to defeat Max and Aunt Trudy
with the utmost effort. In the evening, with Ember's and my help, dad serves a
three-course dinner, which he had partially prepared the previous day. We sit
together at the table and I am amazed to see how easily Lin fits in with my
loved ones. He doesn't care at all when he doesn't understand some family
jokes. Instead, he bombards his mother with questions about her work in the
bakery and talks for a long time with his father about his paralysis. As it turns
out, her uncle is also in a wheelchair. I had no idea about it until now. I admire
the ease with which she approaches this topic, and I like that her dad's
disability doesn't intimidate her.
After everyone has left, I'm so full and so happy that I could actually fall
asleep right now. I put on my pajamas and glance at the black box on the
desk. I get up and go to him. I timidly remove the lid and take out my bag. I
unfasten the clothespins, take out the books I need for Monday from the desk
and slowly place them in my new bag. I experiment until I am satisfied with the
division. Unlike a backpack where everything was in one compartment, the
ability to be organized in a bag is pure heaven on earth for me. There are even
tiny loops at the front for markers, which I use most often. I don't know if James
knows how much pleasure he gave me. But now, when I look at the already
packed bag, I come to the conclusion that I won't give it up for anything in the
world.
I bend down, reach into my left pocket and take out my cell phone, which I've
already placed there. After literally a second of hesitation, I dial James' number.
I put the phone to my ear and wait. One ring, two, another... I'm about to hang
up when he finally picks up.
“Ruby Bell,” he says, as if he was expecting my call.
–James Beaufort. – Since he said my full name, I can do it too. I used to
spit it out like a curse, but now it sounds different. Better.
- Everything's all right? – he asks, although I can barely hear him. Music plays in the
background, but gradually fades away. I'm intrigued as to where James is and what he's
doing.
– Perfect. I just packed my new bag, I reply.
I run my finger along the edge of the flap. I feel an even seam.
- Do you like it? – he asks, and I would give anything to see him right now.
See what he's wearing. In my imagination he's at school
uniform because I rarely see him in anything else, but I'm trying to remember that
James in black jeans and a white shirt. On our doorstep that day, he looked like an
ordinary boy, not the heir to a million-dollar empire. He was more human. Within reach.
- She is wonderful. You know you didn't have to do that, right? – I finally say. I close
the bag and put it on the desk. I cross my legs at the ankles.
– I wanted to give you something. And for someone who, like you, is crazy about it
okay, James is a great choice.
– James?
– That's the name of this model.
– Are you giving me a bag that you named after yourself?
– Not me, just my mother. There's also Lydia and models named after my parents.
But Lydia is too small for you and Mortimer is too big for you.
Besides, I was amused by the thought of seeing you running around school with James on your
shoulder.
I'm smiling.
– Do you give Beaufort's things to all your friends?
He's silent for a moment until I hear music playing in the background.
“No,” he finally replies. Just enough.
I do not know what it means. I just don't know what's going on between us. That I
won't mention what I would like. All I know is that just the sound of his voice gives me
great pleasure.
– Once you're in charge of the company, you have to call some bag mine
name - I say to break the silence.
– Shall I tell you a secret, Ruby? – he says in a low, hoarse voice.
I wonder who is with him at the moment. And did he leave that person to talk to me.
“You can tell me whatever you want,” I reply in a whisper.

There is silence, I only hear his footsteps. I think he's walking on gravel. And then
even they fade away, just like the last sounds of music.
– I... I don't want to head the company at all.
If he were here with me, I would look at him in disbelief, but now I can only press
the phone harder to my ear.
– And if I'm being completely honest, I don't want to study either
in Oxford – he adds.
I can hear every beat of my heart.
– So what do you want?

Laughs loudly.
– This is the first time in a long time that someone is asking me this question.
– This is a very important question.
– And I don't know how to answer it. – He's silent for a long moment.
– Everything was decided from the beginning, do you understand? It doesn't matter that
Lydia is much better suited for this and dreams about it. She literally lives the company,
and yet next year my father will appoint me, not her, to the management board. I've known
this since birth and I've come to terms with it. But that's not what I want. – Another moment
of silence, and then: – Unfortunately, I will never be able to find out what I really want. I
don't plan my life, it's already planned: Maxton Hall, Oxford and company. Nothing else is
possible.
I press the phone to my ear as hard as I can, as if this way James could be closer to
me.
What he just said was probably the most honest confession he's ever made to me. I
can't believe he opened up to me like that. That he told me his secret.
– My parents always say that the world is open to me. That it doesn't matter where I
come from or where I'm going. They taught me that I could do anything I wanted and that
I should not be afraid of anything. In my opinion, every person should have the right to
choose.
It makes a quiet, desperate noise.
“Sometimes…” He starts and stops, as if he doesn't know if he's going too far. And yet
he continues speaking, gaining the courage to be even more honest. – Sometimes I feel
like I can't breathe, it all overwhelms me so much.
“Oh, James,” I sigh. My heart squeezes painfully. I had no idea that family obligations
were such a burden for him. I always thought he had fun with the power his name gave
him. But now the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place: his tension whenever the
subject of Oxford comes up, his serious expression when his parents show up in London,
the sudden darkness in his eyes whenever the conversation turns to the company.
Suddenly I understand him. Suddenly I understand why he behaved the way he did at the
beginning of the year. What was with the childish antics and the attitude of disrespect and
arrogance.
– This year… is your last moments without responsibility –

I whisper.
“Last chance for freedom,” he admits quietly.
I'd like to deny it, but I can't. Just like I can't solve his problems because it's simply
impossible. When such a fortune is at stake, it is not enough to sit down at the table with
your parents and talk honestly about everything. Besides, I'm sure he's tried everything.
And as far as I know him, I can guess that he will do what his parents expect of him. He
would never disappoint his family in his life.
– I wish I was with you now. – These words fall out of my mouth before I fully
realize their meaning.
– And what would you do then? – he asks. Suddenly, other notes appear in
his tone. Now he is no longer distraught, rather... provocative. As if he was
hoping for an indecent answer.
- I would hug you. – Not too dirty, but at least honest.
– I wouldn't mind it.
We've never touched each other before. If he were here with me, I wouldn't
dare say something like that. But now, hearing his dark voice and not having to
look him in the eye, it suddenly doesn't seem so impossible. I am filled with
courage, sadness, nervousness and happiness, all at the same time.
– How was your birthday? – James asks after a long moment.

- Very nice. – I start talking about my day, about the gifts we received and
how Lin and I won at charades that evening. James laughs at the right moments.
He was obviously relieved that we had changed the subject. Then we talk about
everything and nothing: how his weekend is going so far (poorly), about the
upcoming English test (difficult, but doable), about our favorite singers and
bands (mine: Iron & Wine, his: Death Cab for Cutie), about his beloved films
(mine: Dream Keepers, his: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty). I'm learning a lot of
new things about him. For example, like my sister, she loves blogs. He talks
about a newly discovered travel blog, where he was actually supposed to read
only one article, but in the end he didn't make it to the meeting at his parents'
office because he disappeared into the virtual world for a few hours and lost
track of time.
The exact same thing is happening to me right now. Before I know it, it's three
in the morning and I'm awake, listening to James' voice all the time. I stare at
the neatly folded lacrosse sweatshirt on my desk.
And I only think about him.
OceanofPDF.com
21
Ruby
Principal Lexington stares at me while I try to sit still and not shift
uncomfortably in my seat. Every time I sit in his office I feel strange. The
principal looks the same as always: he keeps his hands on the desk
casually, but at the same time his gaze is so menacing that I guess he
would be willing to walk over dead bodies to ensure the good of the
school. I wouldn't want to have an enemy in him.
I don't think I'll ever get used to the weekly meetings in his office. And
certainly not when Lin, like today, leaves me alone because she once
again had to go to London to help her mother at the gallery.
On the other hand, this situation has its advantages. It's true that
Lexington is watching me closely, but at least now I can present my
proposal without fear of Lin's surprised look or a significant kick under
the table.
– Are you sure I understood you correctly, Miss Bell? – The director
leans over the desk. He looks at me with furrowed brows. – Do you
want me to suspend Beaufort's sentence?
- Yes sir.
He squints.
– Why would I do that? It's not the end of the semester yet.
– He showed really great commitment – I answer. – I didn't expect this. He had great
ideas and thanks to him this year's Halloween ball will open a new page in the history of
events at Maxton Hall.
Lexington leans back in his chair and exhales loudly.

I think he likes what he hears. Whenever we talk about the school's image, he reacts
like a magpie at the sight of a trinket. So I decide to play this string.
– Besides, I think that James will be more useful to the school on the pitch during this
period. The team needs him. Roger Cree is good, but he lacks experience. Coach Freeman
said the same thing when I interviewed him for the school blog on Friday afternoon.
The wrinkles on the principal's forehead deepen. I see that he is currently mentally
analyzing the advantages and disadvantages of my idea.
– And you're not just saying all this because that little brat has done something wrong
again and you want to get rid of him? – he asks suspiciously.
I wonder how Principal Lexington would react if he knew the reality was completely
different. I don't want to get James off the committee. If it were me, I would spend all my
free time with him.
But after he confided in me, and after I realized how much this last year of school meant
to him, I couldn't do otherwise. I had to talk to the director. It was the only thing I could think
of, the only way to somehow help James and relieve him of at least some of the burden,
even if only for a short time. Besides, I do it not only because I want to please him, but also
because it is the truth. James worked hard and it has to be appreciated. This way, at least
until the end of the season, he will be able to play lacrosse with his friends and enjoy his
last year of freedom.
The question immediately arises as to what will become of us. Whatever the case, we
have already become friends. As if. Will he still spend time with me later? Probably not.
The thought makes my chest tighten, but I try my best not to pay attention to it. I'm doing
this for James, not for myself.
– Miss Bell? - Principal Lexington's voice brings me back to earth.

It takes me a moment to remember his question.
I vigorously deny with a movement of my head.
– Absolutely not, sir. What I'm really interested in is the well-being of our school. James
Beaufort helped us on the committee and now he should support his team. We cannot
afford a defeat as bad as last Friday if we do not want to lose our reputation.
It was a bull's-eye. Lexington's gray eyes begin to sparkle

and he straightens himself abruptly.
- I see. “He nods, and I hold my breath for a moment. - All right. Mr. Beaufort
may retire from the organizing committee early and resume playing lacrosse.
A stone has fallen from my heart, I'm already looking forward to James's
reaction when I tell him the good news. I smile gratefully, but Lexington wags a
finger at me.
– But not until next week, after the Halloween party. Doesn't want
risk that he will do something again that will damage the school's image.
The smile is still on my face, although it is fading a bit.
– Of course, Mr. Director.
– And please keep this information to yourself for now. - He reaches for the
phone, lifts it to his ear, presses a button and says gruffly: - Please send me
Coach Freeman.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I don't know if I can go now, or if the principal
wants to discuss something else with me, but when he looks up, frowns, and
waves me off, I assume that's a sign that I should leave.
***
I wasn't exaggerating when I said that the Halloween Ball would open a new
page in the history of events at Maxton Hall. When the day finally comes, when
all the preparations are over and the first guests slowly arrive, I feel a huge stone
fall from my heart. This party will be perfect. What's more, it's better than I
expected.
The decorations that Jessalyn and Camille organized are fantastic. The girls
decorated the hall leading to the auditorium with old-fashioned photographs and
large mirrors lit at strange angles. The buffet and tables surrounding the dance
floor are decorated with thin black scarves. Throughout the room there are thin
cobwebs and over fifty strings of lamps, which, thanks to tiny bulbs resembling
candle flames, create a cozy atmosphere. We decided not to turn on the large
chandeliers, instead we placed silver ones on the tables and windowsills
candlesticks, which, although they provide little light, enhance the atmosphere of
horror and mystery.
The hall is almost full, almost all seats are taken. Principal Lexington gives the
official welcome speech, and Lin, me, and the rest of the organizing committee
listen from the corner near the buffet. When he praises us for the great
organization, Camille steps forward and waves to the guests like a queen. Lin and
I exchange meaningful glances and try in vain not to laugh.
However, I must admit that we all look like royalty today. I'm wearing a dress
from Beaufort's magazine, Camille is wearing a peach outfit that perfectly
highlights her fair complexion. Jessalyn looks amazing in pink, and Lin got a royal
blue dress from somewhere, exactly the same as our school's official color. I
wonder if she did it on purpose.
The boys also put a lot of effort into it. Doug is wearing a sand suit with the
same cut as James' outfit in the poster. And Kieran... Kieran in a top hat, black
tailcoat, jacquard vest, and a beige scarf looks like he stepped out of the pages of
a magazine from years ago.
When Lexington finally finishes speaking, Kieran tips his hat slightly. This time
I manage not to look at Lin because I wouldn't be able to hold back my laughter
any longer.
I am filled with emotions. I don't know if I'm more happy knowing that so far
everything is going smoothly and the event is already a success, or if I'm more
afraid that something unexpected may happen. I look around the room anxiously.
“He'll come soon,” Lin whispers in my ear.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I reply, just as quietly.
Not true. I know exactly what she means. James hasn't shown up yet. His
friends and Lydia weren't there either, but I saw his parents - they're on the school
board. I'm painfully aware of James' absence, and as much as I don't want to
think about it, I feel like this party is missing a very important element. Whatever
the case, he worked as hard as we did to make it happen.
There is applause after Lexington's speech. We split up, everyone takes a

designated position. Me and Lin keep an eye on the catering, and Jessalyn,
Camille, Doug and Kieran, as well as members of the theater troupe,
they line up on the dance floor. The music starts and five couples start a dance
routine that, in my opinion, is incredibly complicated. Once again, I thank fate
that they were convinced by my argument that someone had to keep an eye
on the guests, and so I didn't have to take part in it.
The first couple dances with Kieran and a girl from the theater group. I do
not know her. They lead the others, cross the dance floor, split at the end and
form two rows, go around the room and face each other again.
Everyone's attention is focused on them, the guests watch the dance as if
hypnotized.
At that exact moment, the massive double doors to Weston Hall open. Most
of the guests turn curiously in that direction, causing Kieran and his partner to
lose their rhythm for a moment. I frown and turn that way too. My heart stops
in my chest for a moment.
James and his gang enter the room, all incredibly elegant.
James appears in a tailcoat from Beaufort's magazine, but the others also
made an effort. They took care of the smallest details, including silk
handkerchiefs and period buttons. Lydia is wearing a fantastic silver dress and
has an elaborate hairstyle that probably took several hours to do.
They all look perfect, as if they stepped off the screen of a Victorian era movie.
As they pass the dance floor on their way to the buffet, it's clear from their
faces what they think about the party. Cyril wrinkles his nose and Wren's
cheeks are flushed, suggesting he's had something stronger to drink before he
comes here. Kesha's dark eyes scan the room with indifference.
He frowns when he sees me and moves away from Alistair a little. It seems
like a reflex. At his side, Alistair frowns in surprise.
James walks over to me. I literally devour it with my eyes. Even though I've
seen him wearing this outfit on countless posters almost every day over the
past few weeks, in reality, the sight of him takes my breath away, just like the
first time I saw him in London. When he finally stands in front of me, my heart
beats quickly and erratically.
– So how's it going? – he asks with a mocking smile at the corners of his
mouth. He pretends he wasn't an hour late for our party.
“Fantastic,” Lin replies for me. Apparently a bit in favor
I looked at James for a long time.
Beaufort nods.
- That's good.
– I hope it will be better than at the previous party. Otherwise we're out of here," Cyril
mutters.
“Don't pretend you're too good for our parties,” Lin drawls through
To. I glance at her, surprised.
– I don't have to pretend.
As she says this, her face flushes with anger.
- You are really…
“Hey, calm down, guys,” James says quietly but firmly. He gives Cyril a pointed look,
and he turns his back to Lin and walks over to Wren, who has stopped some distance
away from us, pouring himself a punch.
Just one word from James and someone like Cyril Vega falls silent.
Sometimes I still can't wrap my head around how much power James has in this school.
As if nothing had happened, he turns around, walks to the buffet and puts something
on a plate. He brings the food to his nose and looks at it inquisitively before popping it into
his mouth. He swallows and tells me,
“Much better than before.”
I roll my eyes.
– You suggested this catering company yourself.
He smiles and glances at me. I feel hot when I see the expression on his face change
and the mocking smile turn into something softer, more sincere, a smile that seems to be
intended only for me.
- You look very nice. My stomach

churns uneasily. I swallow hard.
– You've seen me in this dress before.
– But that doesn't change the fact that you look very nice in it.
- Thank you. You too. – I smooth out the skirts of my dress, although there is not the
slightest crease in it. Meanwhile, James walks over to me and bows slightly. At the same
time, he reaches out to me, palm up.
I turn to his friends, but they are busy pouring alcohol from flasks into glasses of punch.
Only Lydia watches her brother with a strange expression on her face. I look back at him.

– Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?

I hold back a laugh.
– James, there's a reason I didn't take part in the first dance. I can't dance, not
like that anyway.
– Ruby Bell, in those days it was very rude to say no to a bachelor.
– Well, you have to forgive me. Someone should keep an eye on the buffet.
James straightens up and walks over to Lin. He whispers something in her ear,
making her laugh. Lin nods and waves him off.
James comes back and holds out his hand to me a second time.
– Lin assures that she can handle it on her own.
After a moment's hesitation, I take his arm. I shoot Lin a death glare over my
shoulder and she just shrugs, and then James and I head out to the dance floor. I
didn't even notice that the first dance was already over and there were more couples
in period costumes spinning on the dance floor. Now it really feels like we've traveled
back in time.
The band plays another song, a slow but rhythmic song that fills the entire room.
James holds my hand with one hand and puts the other on my back. He starts
dancing, takes two steps back, one to the left, and I follow him and stubbornly stare
at my feet, or rather at the voluminous skirt of my dress.
“Don't look down,” he whispers.

With a heavy heart I look up. James looks like he's done nothing but dance at
balls since he was born. Which actually might be true. I regret now that I didn't attend
rehearsals, or at least watch a few YouTube videos and practice with Ember.
Suddenly James lowers his head until his lips brush my ear.
“Relax,” he whispers. Easy
for him to say. And yet I try. I try to relax my tense shoulders and not count my
steps frantically. I am carried away, carried away, just as I imagined it when we first
put on these outfits. James guides me. We glide softly across the dance floor, I feel
as if we are floating above it. I wonder if we'll ever dance together again. What if I tell
him that from now on he doesn't have to attend committee meetings? Even though I
don't really want it, I suddenly feel a painful weight in my chest. I'm trying
I try not to pay attention to it, but it bothers me more and more the more I think about it.
I don't know what will happen to us after tonight.
- What is? – James asks and looks at me with narrowed eyes.
- I have to tell you something.

I feel his turquoise gaze on me, patient, searching, though
I also see a glimmer of distrust.
– I thought about everything you said on my birthday. That you only have one more
year of freedom, until the end of the school year, actually, and then...
– I clear my throat. I feel like he's tensing up now. – Well, I talked to Principal Lexington
and we decided it was time for you to get back to playing lacrosse.
He loses his step for a moment, but then he finds the rhythm and leads me further,
as if he knew the choreography by heart.
- I'm listening? – he whispers. Suddenly he became hoarse. It is his voice that reveals
his feelings the most. His gaze remains unwavering, he is still straight, he moves
smoothly, but the first voice refuses to obey him.
– I think you contributed a lot to our committee. Lexington needs to appreciate this. –
My light tone is intended to ease the tension between us, but it achieves the opposite
goal. James's eyes darken, and then he pulls me closer to him, so much closer than was
allowed in Victorian times. However, the dance floor is bursting at the seams, everyone
is busy with themselves and no one pays attention to us. Not at us, or at the fact that
James's intense gaze makes me feel dizzy.
He finally found his voice.

– Ty…
Suddenly the strings of lights go out. All at once. Several musicians lose their rhythm
and the room is filled with terrible sounds. The only source of light are candles.
“James, I swear, if this is your next call…” I hiss.

“No,” he says decisively. I can barely make out his facial features, but he seems as
surprised as I am. He swears under his breath. – We have to go to the basement, the
orchestra cannot play in such conditions and the party will be over soon.
I nod. He squeezes my hand tighter. Together we push past the nervous guests,
almost trampling on the hem of my dress. I breathe a sigh of relief in the hall.
James lets go of my hand as we run down the stairs to the basement. I tighten my
grip on the railing. I don't want to think about what it means to miss the touch of his
warm skin so painfully.
It's dark in the basement, even if you can't see it. James takes his cell phone out of his
pocket and turns on the flashlight.
“It's cold in here,” I mutter and rub my arms. – And it's terrible. – I feel like a
clown, a monster, or some combination of both will jump out from around the corner
at any moment.
James doesn't answer, and without a word he walks to the large box on the left
side of the corridor.
– Actually, I should be worried how you know so well where the fuses are.
He smirks, opens the box with one of the keys he took out of his pocket, and
steps to the side so we can both look inside. Two plugs popped out. When James
pulls the lever, we hear cheers from upstairs. A second later, here, in the basement,
the light turns on, accompanied by the soft crackle of fluorescent lamps.
I breathe a sigh of relief. James closes the box and I turn on my heel.
I'm almost at the exit when he says, "Wait."
I turn and look at him expectantly.

"Did you really think I'd do something like that again?" - He seems genuinely
surprised, as if he couldn't believe that I would accuse him of something like that.
But honestly… Yes. I thought so. I don't know what's going on between us. And
even though we've gotten a lot closer in recent weeks, that doesn't mean I trust
him. Too much has happened.
Plus, Lydia's warning is still ringing in my ears. I promised Lin I would be careful,
and I'm sticking to it.
“For a split second,” I confess quietly.
James looks at me searchingly.
"I wouldn't do that, Ruby." Not now that I know how much work you put into
these events and how much they mean to you.
I feel like someone has placed their hands on my chest and is deliberately
making it difficult to breathe.
“I'm sorry,” I say quietly. – I was just afraid. That it will be the same as at the
beginning of the school year.
James shakes his head vigorously.
- NO.
He goes even higher, so that now our eyes are at the same height. His face is
so close that I can see the tiny blue crystals in his eyes and the dark ring around
his iris.
I don't know what it will be like when I don't see him every other day at
committee meetings anymore. Just the thought makes my throat tighten painfully.
Will he even want to spend time with me then? He will be training and seeing his
friends more often than he has lately. Will he then realize that he missed it very
much? That he has more fun with them? That he prefers to drink and party with
them on Saturday evenings rather than discuss the political situation in Great
Britain and my favorite manga with me on Messenger? Will he notice the great
gulf that separates our worlds?
I've really enjoyed the past few weeks and I really don't want to miss it.
But I'm afraid I have no say in this matter. We both know perfectly well which
world he will choose in the end.
The pressure in my chest increases. Maybe it will be easier for me to make the
choice myself before he hurts me.
“So that was our last assignment together on the organizing committee,” I say
and look him straight in the eye. My heart is beating like crazy. If James gets any
closer, he'll definitely hear them.
“It's true,” he replies quietly.
For a long moment we just look at each other. And then we both take a deep
breath, as if we want to say something, but neither of us speaks. The atmosphere
is so tense, my heart is beating so fast, I can't stand it any longer. I do the first
thing that comes to my mind in this situation: I extend my hand to him.
“I really enjoyed working with you,” I say politely.

At first he seems surprised, and then an emotion appears in his turquoise eyes
that I've seen there before but couldn't name. Now I know what it is: desire.
He takes my hand and squeezes it lightly.

– This sounds like goodbye.
As soon as he said it, it dawned on me that this was true.
And at the same time I realize that I absolutely don't want this. I don't want to say
goodbye to him. On the contrary, I want to continue talking to him. I want to tell him
about myself and listen when he confides in me.
I want to know everything about you.
The thought comes suddenly, violently, and the same longing I saw in his eyes
spreads in my stomach. Hot, desperate, fills my veins, makes me tighten my fingers
around his hand. I don't know what's happening to me, but... My knees go weak and his
hand almost burns me. I wonder if it would feel as hot on other parts of my body. I want
more than this touch. I want more of him.
– James…
“Yes,” he replies quietly. He seems as surprised, as out of breath as I am.
And the next moment he pulls me closer until I bump into him.
He looks into my eyes for a split second, puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls
me closer. The next moment I feel the touch of his lips on my lips.
I don't think anymore. My brain shuts down, there is not a single rational thought in it,
there is only a burning heat that fills my entire body.
I throw my arms around James' neck and tangle my fingers in his hair. He starts moving
his lips on mine.
He kisses exactly the way he moves and behaves: confident and proud. He knows
exactly what to do, how to make me burst into flames. He spreads my lips with his
tongue, without hesitation, without a hint of shyness, until I fear that my legs will give out
at any moment. But even if that happens, he is there for me, he will hold me. He hugs
me tightly, presses me against him. I feel his closeness through the voluminous dress,
but it is not enough. I want more.
I sigh quietly, slide my hands to his shoulders, to his neck, to the neck of his shirt.
She has warm, velvety skin and everything inside me screams: more, more, more.
I want even more of it. I want to undress him, here, on the steps of our school. I don't
care who can come and see us. For me
all that matters right now is James, his lips on my lips, on my jaw, on my neck. He gently captures
the skin with his lips, pulling lightly until I want him to do it harder. I would like him to leave traces
on my body, so that in a few hours I would see that it all really happened, that it was not just a
figment of my imagination.
“Ruby…” I thought I knew every shade of his voice. But this is something new. So that's what it
sounds like after he kissed me to the point of madness. He takes my face in his hands and looks
into my eyes. He runs his thumb gently across my cheeks. Jaw. Mouth. And the cheeks again. –
Ruby.
I lean down and cover his mouth with a kiss. Something painfully presses in my lower abdomen,
moving higher and higher until I can't breathe. Now I know why he keeps saying my name over and
over again. I want to do this too. James, James. Still only James.
“James,” a voice says above our heads. We jump away from each other. I stand on the edge of
my dress and lose my balance, but James reaches out and holds my waist. He waits for me to grab
the railing, then immediately releases me and looks up. I follow his gaze.
Mortimer Beaufort stands at the top of the stairs. He folds his arms behind his back, watching us
with a gloomy expression. My heart stops in my chest.
– Your mother is looking for you.
James straightens and nods.

- I'll be in a moment.
Mr. Beaufort raises his eyebrows slightly.
– He's looking for you now, not now.

James visibly tenses. I reach out and touch his shoulder gently, hoping his father doesn't see.
James takes my hand and looks at our intertwined fingers. I hear him sigh softly.
And then he brings my hand to his lips and kisses it lightly.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. I feel these words on the back of my hand. The next moment he slowly
walks past me, up the stairs, and towards my father, who is still looking at him with an icy stare.
When James approaches him, he grabs his shoulder and pulls him back into the room, while I'm
left alone on the stairs, touching my hot cheeks and wondering why James was apologizing to me.
OceanofPDF.com
22
James
– I told you to stay away from that girl.
I stare at the window. The dark fields merge with the almost completely
leafless trees into one dark mass. This view perfectly reflects how I feel
at the moment. I feel cold and hot at the same time, my hands are sticky
with sweat, and my throat is painfully dry.
I wanted to be with Ruby again, to return to her wonderful lips, to
experience the feeling she aroused in me. I keep her in my arms in my
mind, enjoying the feel of her hands in my hair, her lips on my lips.
If we hadn't been interrupted, I would have gone much further than

just kissing.
“I'm talking to you,” the father repeats. At any moment he will throw the
glass on the floor of the car. I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life
when I told Percy I was going back with my parents.
– James, honey, we want the best for you – adds the mother
diplomatically. I can't look at them. If I do this, I'll be angry again, and I
don't know if I can control myself this time. Why did it have to happen
today?
Why did my father catch me with Ruby at that moment? “We dreamed
of a better partner for you than a poor, middle-class scholarship student
with a tragic family history,” Mom continues. I turn my head towards her.
The question is on the tip of my tongue how the hell he knows all this
about Ruby, but I'm not really surprised. Nothing surprises me in this
family anymore. – You deserve someone better, darling. Someone like
Elaine Ellington. Apparently you get along great. Why don't you invite
her to dinner sometime? – suggests the mother in a quiet, soothing voice
voice. He wants to ease the tension between me and my father at all costs, but it's definitely
too late for that.
– I will never be with Elaine, forget about it, mom. – Besides, I'm almost sure she dropped
out of college, but she doesn't want to tell anyone about it yet. She's not better than Ruby
just because she has blue blood in her veins. Ruby works harder than others for what she
cares about. She is intelligent, kind and… beautiful. And he's a fantastic kisser, and he's an
even better listener.
Her image immediately appears in my mind. The memory of her lips is the only thing that
helps me survive this journey. I wish we had more time. These few minutes are definitely
not enough.
“You're embarrassing our family by hanging out with such trash,” the father continues. "I
can't believe you're behaving like this." We raised you better.
Despite my best efforts, I can no longer ignore him.

Not when he says things like that about Ruby. Rage washes over me in a hot wave. I glare
at my father.
- Shut up.
My mother takes a sharp breath and Lydia stiffens next to me.
He grabs my hand, but I pull it away. She can sleep with her teacher, but I can't even spend
time with the one person I like without being reproached?
The car stops. We unfasten our seat belts. I'm waiting until
Lydia and Mom get out, and I follow them. My father is already behind me, I don't even have
time to take two steps before I feel his hand on my shoulder. He turns me around, grabs my
jacket and shakes me violently.
“How dare you talk to me like that,” he growls, pushing me away so violently that I
stagger. The next moment he raises his hand and hits me in the face with the back of his
hand. I feel a piercing pain, and for a few seconds there are only colored dots in my eyes. A
metallic taste fills my mouth.
– Jesus, dad! - Lydia shouts and wraps her arms around my shoulders before I make the
stupid mistake of striking back. I would do it with the greatest pleasure. I would like to inflict
on him the same pain that he has been giving me since childhood.
His mother takes his hand, but he breaks free, turns on his heel and walks away
towards home. Meanwhile, she looks at us sadly.
“That's the result of hanging out with the riffraff, James. – And then she collects her tails too
voluminous dress and follows him.
I watch them go and try to suppress my rage, which is slowly but surely turning
into hatred, which I don't want to feel.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look at the blood as if it came from a
stranger.
Lydia stands in front of me and grabs my shoulders.
–James. Is she really worth it? – he asks firmly.
I look at her, too moved to consider her question.
“You better mind your own business,” I snap. I turn and walk across the courtyard
towards the gate to the manor. At the same time, I reach into my pocket for my cell
phone and dial Wren's number.
I definitely need to do something.
It's only after the third drink that the rage begins to subside. I lean against the wall
in Wren's parents' living room, sipping scotch from a crystal glass and letting the
rhythmic music gradually drown out my thoughts.
– Please, please, the prodigal son has returned. – Cyril's voice sounds behind me.
I turn and watch him walk towards me, arms spread wide and a cynical smile on his
face. Like the others, he took off his jacket and was left only in part of his period
costume: a white shirt and high-waisted trousers. – To what do we owe this honor? –
he asks. He's about to say something else, but then he notices my lips and just
whistles under his breath. – Jesus, man, this looks bad.
I don't answer, I finish my drink in one gulp. I feel my cheeks go numb.
“Leave him alone, Cyril,” Wren says from the couch. A blonde woman who seems
familiar to me is sitting next to him. He strokes her thigh. When the girl lifts her head,
I recognize her. Camilla. She was last with Kesh, not Wren, but things like that happen
in our circles.
– What's wrong with you, Beaufort? – Cyril doesn't give up, puts his arm around
me and leads me towards one of the sofas. I sit down, rub my sore face, and he
prepares and hands me another drink. – This James,
I grew up with, he wasn't intimidated by anyone. He wouldn't allow himself to be

kicked off the team, he wouldn't allow himself to be forced into slave labor.
I'm furious again when he calls "slave drudgery" what I've been doing with the
organizing committee over the past weeks.
But I hold back. Cyril is what he is, and I've had enough emotions tonight. I just
want to get so drunk that I can't feel anything anymore. Not her father's hand, not
Ruby's mouth.
– I had no choice, you know.
“Nonsense,” Wren says. I see a spark of amusement in his eyes. -You're just
going for Ruby.
In response, I just take a sip of scotch and close my eyes. That's damned
strong alcohol, burns me from my throat to my stomach.
– Seriousness? Are you doing all this just because you're going to Ruby Bell? –
Cyril is surprised.
– And that's why he changed so much. – Wren doesn't look at me when he says these words,
only at Camille, whom he absently strokes her blond hair.
– He was sucking up to her. Too bad you didn't see how sweet he was during
our last meetings, Camille interjects. He looks at me with compassion. – Or maybe
you did all this just to be able to play again?
I freeze with my mouth on the edge of the glass.
- How do you know?
– Ruby told us before the prom.
I frown at Wren again
strokes Camille. Is that why he started something with her today? To ask about me?
– I haven't changed at all. – My tongue is heavy and clumsy when I say these
words; they sound quiet and indistinct.
– Of course you've changed. “Alistair plops down on the couch to my left. His
blond hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed. Either he had already had a lot to
drink, or he picked up someone and dragged him to Wren's guest room.
– In what respect? – I ask with apparent calmness,

and at the same time I tell myself that I don't care what they think.
Alistair raises his hand and counts.
“First of all, you don't come to our parties anymore or you disappear before the
sun comes up, which is something old James Beaufort would never do. After
second, you willingly spend time with the nerds on the organizing committee...
Sorry, Camille.
The girl gives him the middle finger.
– Thirdly, you don't give a damn about our decision.
– I didn't come here to listen to this nonsense.
Alistair enters the brew.
– This isn't nonsense and you know it.
– Alistair's right. We were going to have a lot of fun this year and have some fun
one last time, says Wren. – That was our decision. Carpe diem, remember? Every
day as long as we are together. Unfortunately, the James who encouraged us to
do this, who urged us to go all the way, got lost somewhere along the way. At least
that's what it looks like.
I lean back and take another sip. Alcohol burns me mercilessly. The truth of
their words dawns on me. My stomach tightens painfully. They are right.
The plan was for my last year of school to be the best year of my life. I was
going to enjoy my last moments with my friends.
With the guys who are like a second family to me.
The plan certainly wasn't to have feelings for someone with whom I had no
chance of a future together anyway.
I still feel her taste on my lips and the touch of her hands on my body. And this
means I haven't had enough to drink yet.
Ruby aroused a feeling in me that I had never experienced before. It seemed to
me that everything was possible with her by my side. What a wonderful, terrible lie.
Because in reality I am not free.
Unlike her, the world is not open to me, I do not have unlimited possibilities and
choices. I knew from the very beginning what my life would be like.
Maybe that's what attracted me to her from the very beginning. She takes
my fate in my own hands, I'm just a pawn on the board.
She lives, I just exist.
We don't fit together.
I just wish I'd realized it before I kissed her.
OceanofPDF.com
23
Ruby
How do you talk to someone you've kissed?

The only boy I had kissed before James was Wren, whom I then
ignored and pretended nothing had happened. For James, this strategy
is not an option.
Most Sundays I lie in bed and stare at his sweatshirt, which is still on
my desk. I want to text him or call him, but I can't think of anything to say
except, "Can we do that again?" And what does this mean for us now?”
and I won't dare to do that. Especially since he left his parents so suddenly
last night that I didn't even have time to say goodbye to him.
I'm so nervous about all this that I decide to do something and do a

preliminary assessment of the Halloween party. Apart from a minor
incident with a power outage, everything went according to plan and in
the morning I received a message from Lexington's director praising our
team for a great job. I passed it on to the other committee members. And
now I'm reaching for one of the books that my grandparents gave me for
my birthday. I'm reading the first chapters. Sticky notes, colored markers
and markers have always helped me control the chaos in my thoughts
and notes. I highlight more important parts, drill down important information
into my head, and at the same time I try not to think about James's lips
on my lips and his hands on the back of my neck.
I wonder how many girls he's kissed since he's so good at it.
I wonder if we would have made it much further if it hadn't

his father interrupted us.
I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to kiss him like that again.
Okay, apparently I wasn't as absorbed in the book as I had hoped. But I don't want to let
James fill my whole world. And I certainly don't want to lose my head for him. My head is
mine and I can't risk it just because James activated the butterflies in my stomach.
This afternoon I'm devouring almost the entire first half of the book, although it's definitely
too much in one sitting. In the evening I am so tired that I fall into bed with relief.
Unfortunately, all I dream about all night is James, his dark eyes and his hoarse voice as
he whispers my name.
The next morning I feel the same as the first day of school. I'm nervous and excited, and
my stomach does somersaults as the bus pulls into the stop. I keep wondering what I'll feel
when I see James again. Will he come to me? Or maybe I should look for it? Is it too
obvious? Will we pretend nothing happened?
Or maybe we have something more in common since Saturday? These questions don't
give me peace of mind, I'm angry with myself for not calling him yesterday. Then I would at
least know where I stand and how to behave. I hate being so insecure.
I get off the school bus and go to great lengths to put my uniform in order. There cannot
be the slightest fold or the slightest crease, the tie must be perfectly straight. I shoulder the
bag James gave me. Its weight, strangely enough, gives me confidence, as if it were
tangible proof that we have something real in common. I touch the initials on the lapel with
my fingertips and look at the iron gate leading to Maxton Hall.
You'll make it. Act normally. Nothing has changed, I repeat

in my thoughts, I straighten my back proudly and enter the school property.
James is nowhere to be seen during roll call. His friends are sitting in the last row. I pass
them, moving forward, and I hear Cyril whistling to himself. I don't know if it's me, but I'm
starting to worry.
I turn around. Cyril looks at me without blinking. I don't pay attention to him.
My first lesson is art history and no matter how hard I try, I can't concentrate. I only think
about one thing: I'm about to go to math class and I'll be in the same room as this one
James is sitting for a moment. We have met in the corridor between classes
many times, because Mrs. Wakefield almost always extends her lessons.
As soon as the bell rings, I quickly run to the door, trying not to draw
attention to myself, but judging by the look in Alistair's eyes, I'm not very
successful. I head towards the main building. The closer I get to the math lab,
the faster my heart beats.
Before the last turn, I stop, adjust my black knee-high socks so they end at
exactly the same height, then take a deep breath and turn the corner.
I mentally prepared myself to meet James, but when I see him next to Lydia
in the next hall, my heart stops for a moment. I feel weird seeing him in his
school uniform; on the one hand it looks foreign, on the other - very familiar.
After a short while, during which I try to control my racing pulse, I move on.
I can simply say hello to them. Just "hello", nothing more. There is nothing
strange about this. I don't want it to be weird. I just have to look him in the eye
and I'll know what's going on. I wonder if I will see in them the same
nervousness that has been bothering me since Saturday?
Lydia notices me first. He nudges James with his shoulder, barely

noticeable. He mutters something under his breath and nods to her, then
moves towards me. My smile suddenly turns into a grimace.
We're only a few steps away, and I open my mouth to greet him, and then…
…he
passes me.
“Hey,” I hear from behind me. I turn around and see him greeting Cyril.
They talk briefly, James gesticulating like crazy, Cyril bursts out laughing.
They cover the few meters between them and the classroom where they are having
classes and disappear through the door without ever looking back.
A piercing pain builds in my chest. I freeze in the middle of the corridor. I
swallow hard. When I look up again, only Lydia is standing nearby. At first she
looks like she wants to say something, but then she turns on her heel without
a word and disappears into one of the rooms. Meanwhile, I am unable to move.
The rest of the day passes like in a trance. Each subsequent lesson seems
longer than the previous one. I hear the teachers' words, but I don't understand
them, I don't learn anything new.
I am not able to go to the canteen during my lunch break. Just the thought of
seeing James with his friends, anchored in the old world again, makes my
stomach churn. Instead, I go to the library and stare out the window.
I don't know what I did wrong. I can't explain his behavior. I'm racking my brain,
but I haven't made any mistakes. And even if I did, I didn't deserve to be treated
this way. During maths, I tried to convince myself that he simply didn't notice me,
but when we met again in the corridor, he passed me again without a word,
without a single glance. Very clear signal.
Lin obviously sees that something is wrong, but I didn't have time to tell her
about the kiss, and I definitely won't do it now. It feels like there is an open wound
where my heart is. Everything hurts when I breathe, when I move, when I speak.
Lin has to lead the committee meeting herself, because I just sit there and
scribble on the calendar without saying a word. I find the place where I had written
over James' name with concealer. No one knows what lies beneath the white
spot, but I touch it with my fingertips and sigh.
It's not like I made this kiss up. The way he said my name. The way he looked
at me. How desperately he touched me. There was something between us.
Something big. And even if for some reason he thought it was a big mistake, he
could have just told me so.
I'm very rational and I know that some things can't go wrong. It would hurt me too,
but I could live with it.
Another thing that bothers me is the fact that he behaves so hopelessly.
The longer I sit in the meeting, the longer I stare at its empty seat, the more angry
I become. Was it all just fun for him?
He wondered how far he could go? Or maybe he made a bet with his friends?
Or maybe he just wanted to wrap me around his finger so that I could put in a
good word for him with Lexington. It makes me sick to think about it. Was
everything I've learned about him in the past weeks one big lie? Was he the same
James all along?
The Beaufort I met at the beginning? Calculating, deceitful and arrogant?
I stare out the window and see the lacrosse team on the field. My anger grows
stronger. It fills me completely, making me feel cold and hot at the same time. I
unconsciously clench my teeth so hard that I start grinding them. It costs me a lot
not to let anyone know what's going on with me during the meeting.
As soon as the meeting ends, I look at Lin.

– Can I go now? I feel bad.
He looks at me suspiciously, then nods slowly.
– Of course, I'll take care of everything. If you want, I'll call you later. – It sounds
like a veiled proposal. I touch her shoulder gratefully.
I leave the room without saying goodbye to the others. The bag on my shoulder suddenly
appears to me no longer as a gift from a friend, but as an attempt at bribery. I only think
about one thing, my disappointment and anger. I quickly leave the library and run towards
the pitch.
I can hear screams and curses from afar. Fuck lacrosse.

I stop abruptly at the edge of the pitch and look around, arms crossed over my
chest. After a while, I notice a blue T-shirt with a white number seventeen.
– Beaufort, your girlfriend is here! Wren shouts just a second later. And although
I can't see his evil smile under his helmet, I can clearly feel it in the tone of his voice.
James turns and sees me standing on the edge of the pitch. I matter
except that he ignores me once again, but after a while he raises his hand.
– Keep playing! – he shouts and runs towards me. He stops and looks at me for
the first time that day, or so I think.
I can't see his eyes under the helmet.
- At last. – My voice shakes with anger. I don't know this side of myself. I am
always composed, I never get carried away by emotions.
When did I become like this? Since when have I not been able to see everything
coldly like I used to?
Since James has been in my life, that's the answer.
I've been like this since I've known him.
He is silent. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't even move.
“Could you at least take it off?” – I point to his helmet.
He sighs in annoyance but complies with my request. His hair is sweaty, disheveled
and his cheeks are flushed. Now, as he stands before me, I see his split lip for the first
time. He looks like he's fighting someone. I raise my hand gently, instinctively to touch
him, but he moves away. I clench my fist and lower my hand.
- What's going on with you? – I ask excitedly.

He looks at me with eyes devoid of any emotion.
– What is supposed to happen?
I'm probably as red as he is, and that's only because he's driving me crazy.
- What's going on? For example, you're acting like an asshole.

He frowns.
– Is that so?
– Stop being silly and tell me why you're ignoring me – I ask, more quietly, but still
firmly.
And again he doesn't answer. She looks at me like this
the conversation bored him out of his mind. I take a step towards him.
– Was this part of your plan? – I say. – You were only nice to me after
so that I can train again?
He makes a sound like he's laughing, but suddenly he can't look me in the eye
anymore. He stares at the ground, where the toes of our shoes almost touch.
– In case you forgot: you kissed me after I fired you from your job on the organizing
committee. You really didn't have to do that.
He remains silent all the time.
- Why are you like this? - I'm asking. I'm mad at myself because I don't have a voice
trembles. – Is this about your father? Did he do something to you?
James finally looks up, and now I can see my fury reflected in his eyes.
– Explain it that way, if it's more convenient for you.

His words are like a blow to the heart.
– You kissed me. Not I you, you me. You didn't have to do it if you're ashamed of it
now.
He frowns.
– Don't exaggerate. You gave me something, I liked it, that's it, period.
– Did you like it, that's it, period? – I repeat in disbelief. I can't believe
that the guy standing here in front of me is actually the same guy I kissed
on the stairs on Saturday. That it was his tongue that parted my lips, it
was his touch that made me feel dizzy.
Now he just shrugs.

– Jesus, James, what's wrong with you? – I mutter under my breath.
Even though I'm still mad at him, I wonder where the wound on his
mouth came from. Who was he fighting with? Could I help this? “You
could have just told me that kiss was a mistake,” I say as calmly as I can.
“Okay, then I'm saying it now,” he replies coldly. - Was

nice, but it's high time to go back to the way things were.
I don't understand that he actually said that just now. I feel like I'm in
the wrong movie. Something is very wrong here. But I can't fix it. It is like
an unstoppable avalanche that destroys everything it encounters.
– You don't have to immediately put an end to our friendship just because it's yours
friends or parents have something against it, you know that?
He smiles, but it's just a grimace, there's nothing in that smile
I saw it during the last weeks. I don't actually recognize him at all.
– With crazy persistence you try to control everything and everyone,
to work on every imperfection you see around you, in other people... But
it doesn't work like that, Ruby. This isn't about my friends or my family.
This is who I am. – He puts his hand on the chest protector. – Terrible,
evil and false. It's high time you came to terms with this thought.
Rage disappears without a trace, despair takes its place. I felt the
same way at the Halloween party when I imagined having to say
goodbye to him. But now the feeling is much stronger, much more
painful. Because now it's the final goodbye.
I make one last attempt, raise my hand, touch his cheek.
I lightly stroke it with my thumb.
– You're not terrible, evil, or fake.
He laughs bitterly and shakes his head.

“I don't want to lose you,” I whisper. I put what little courage I have in me into these
words.
He puts his hand on mine, closes his eyes and looks as if this moment is causing him
physical pain. He gently brushes his fingers against the back of my hand. I shudder.
-You can't lose something that doesn't belong to you, Ruby Bell.
He pulls my hand away from his face. And then he opens his eyes and looks at me.
He has the same look he had two months ago, cold and distant. Suddenly I feel devoid
of all emotions. I feel an icy chill as the full meaning of his words sinks in.
– Beaufort! – Wren shouts across the pitch. – You lose your first training session
for several weeks. Come on, man!
He wants to turn away, I can see it in the tension in his body. As if invisible
the bond that connected him with his friends.
- Something else? The boys are waiting for me - he says in an emotionless voice and
points to the pitch with his thumb.
I have never felt so humiliated in my life. Adrenaline, pain and rage surge in new
waves. I clench my fists so as not to throw myself at him. I want to do it so badly, but he's
so cold, so alien, that I won't give him the satisfaction of attacking him in front of his
friends.
“No, nothing,” I say with all the dignity I can muster.
James doesn't care about my dignity. He turns on his heel before I add anything and
goes back to his friends. With each step he takes, my pride disappears until I can no
longer stand straight.
OceanofPDF.com
24
Ruby
Green – important.
Turquoise – school.
Pink – organizing committee.
Purple – family.
Orange – sports and nutrition.
If I had to divide my afternoon by color, it would look like this: Purple -
sobbing on
Ember's shoulder.
Purple – sobbing on mom's shoulder.
Purple – getting out of dad's way so he doesn't ask too many questions.
Orange – An hour-long run with Ember to regain clarity.
Green - give the bag to James Beaufort and make it clear where he can
kiss me.
Very decent list. If it really existed, I would make it happen
all points except the last one.
For over an hour I sat with a towel turban on my head and tried to write
to James. Now, in a room full of crumpled papers, I decide to give up. I
wanted to put my anger and disappointment into words, but on paper it all
seems pointless. I wish I had grabbed it all for him on the field, but I was
too shocked to do so at the time.
On the cork wall above my desk hangs the note he gave me on my

birthday. Back then, these words had great meaning for me.
I thought he wrote them sincerely. Now it seems to me that everything that
happened between us was just my dreams. Long conversations, moments
when we laughed together, that kiss - these are just my creations
imagination. Suddenly I can't look at that note any longer. I rip it off the wall, grab a black
marker, and write the first thing that comes to my mind: James, fuck you.
Ruby
I tilt my head slightly and admire my handiwork. I wrote this right below his words. This
sight makes me painfully aware that we have truly reached this point.
-Ruby? – Ember looks into my room. – Dad prepared dinner.

Will you come?
I nod, unable to take my eyes off the note. Ember comes over and looks over my
shoulder. With a sigh, he pats my head. Then, without a word, he takes the box out from
behind the door and helps me stuff my bag into it.
My heart bleeds as I put the note on top and close the box.
“If you want, I can post it tomorrow morning on the way to school,” he offers quietly.
The lump in my throat grows by the minute.

“Thanks,” I say hoarsely as he hugs me.
Ember takes the box to her room so I don't have to look at it anymore. I'm grateful she
didn't mention James' sweatshirt, even though I could clearly see she looked at it pointedly.
I wasn't able to put it in the box either. I don't want to wonder what it actually means either.
After dinner, I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I give myself this evening and this
night to mourn what happened between us. To mourn the friend I lost, although I don't know
why.
And that's it. Because I am still me; I swore to myself a long time ago that no one would
ever divert me from the path I had once chosen. From tomorrow everything will be as it
was during the past two years. I will focus on school and running the organizing committee.
I will walk with Lin to the cafeteria every day. I will focus on preparing for the admissions
interview at Oxford. I will return to a world where neither James Beaufort nor the rest of the
students at Maxton Hall know my name.
James
Ruby is a master of getting out of my way. Like she had memorized my schedule
just so that, God forbid, she wouldn't meet me anywhere. And when it comes
down to it, he walks past me quickly, without giving me a single glance, with his
hands clenched on the straps of his green backpack. Whenever I see her, I
remember the note I carry in my wallet, carefully folded, and sometimes I take it
out when the longing for her becomes unbearable.
Just like now.

When will this end? When will I finally be able to think about anything other than
Ruby? I chose a terrible moment to get distracted. We have the TSA exam on
Thursday and if I want to have any hope of studying at Oxford, I have to give it my
all.
Unfortunately, I can't for the life of me remember what Lydia and I were talking
about in the last half hour.
We printed out all the available test problems, spread them out in her room, and
went through them one by one until our heads hurt.
Lydia closes the book she was looking for the answer to one of her questions and
leans on her elbows. He lies on his stomach, swinging his legs to the music that
plays quietly in the background. She holds out her hand, so I wordlessly hand her
the bag of chips we've been enjoying for over an hour.
And then I run my fingers over Ruby's note once again. The sheet is already dirty and bent.
I'm about to put it in my wallet when Lydia crawls up to me.
- What's that? – he asks and takes the sheet out of my hand before I can react.
I want to pick it up, but Lydia has already unfolded it and read both my words and
Ruby's response. Her eyes darken, and when she looks up at me again, I see
compassion in her eyes. –James…
I snatch the sheet from her and hide it in my wallet again, which I then slip into
my pants pocket. And then I open the book that my sister had just closed and start
reading. No matter how hard I concentrate, the words don't make sense at the
moment. Why is my heart pounding like crazy? And why do I feel like she caught
me in the act?
– James.
I glance at her over my book.

– So?
Lydia sits cross-legged and gathers her hair into a loose knot before tying it with a
rubber band on top of her head.
– What is this note about?
I shrug.
- Nothing.
Lydia raises an eyebrow questioningly and glances pointedly at my pocket, where
the wallet with the note has disappeared. And then he looks at me again, warmer
this time.
-What happened between you and Ruby?
I tense up instinctively.
- I have no idea what you are talking about.
Lydia lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head.
“I know perfectly well how you feel right now,” he says after a long moment
of silence. "You don't have to pretend to me that you don't care about this Ruby
thing." I have eyes, James. I see how bad your shape is.
I stare at the book again. Lydia's right - I'm in a bad place
form. Everything is falling apart in my life and I can't help it.
“You know what I care about,” I finally say. – That my family is fucked up and
just thinking about the future makes me sick.
I feel Lydia's sympathetic eyes on me, but I can't look at her. I'm afraid I'll
lose what little self-control I still have, and I can't afford that. Not in this house,
where my father's eyes and ears are everywhere and I never felt truly safe.
"Ruby feels bad too?" Why…

“Listen, I was keeping an eye on her because of you. – I won't let her finish.
– There was nothing more to it. – These words sting my throat, sounding false
as I say them. I can't breathe, and Lydia's gaze is so piercing that it makes my
chest feel heavier and heavier. I blink nervously, unused to the burning
sensation behind my eyelids, and swallow hard.
“Oh, James,” he whispers and takes my cold hand. He strokes it gently with
his thumb. I don't remember the last time we touched each other like this.
I stare at her white fingers on my skin for a long moment. Somehow she
manages to make me come back with this simple gesture
able to breathe. “I know what it's like to not have the one person who could make life
more bearable,” he says and squeezes my hand. – When I met Graham, I knew there
was something special between us.
I straighten up abruptly. Lydia looks calmly into my eyes. So far, Sutton and I have
never discussed the matter, and she has shrugged off all my attempts to broach the
subject. Now that she's doing it alone, I realize how bad I am at hiding my condition from
her, how much she must pity me at this moment. Nevertheless, I am grateful to her for
changing the subject.
– How did you two even meet? At school?

He denies with a movement of his head. For a moment, she looks like she's searching
for the right words. I see how much it costs her to talk about it.
After all, she had probably been hiding this secret for a long time.
“We met over two years ago, right after the Greg thing,” he begins, and a wave of
rage wells up in my stomach. For months, Greg Fletcher pretended to be her friend,
even though he was actually a tabloid journalist. He took advantage of her and broke
her heart just to have access to information about our family and company.
I squeeze her hand.

– Then I didn't feel like… doing anything. – He stops for a moment. - Totally
I closed myself off.
- I remember. – After Fletcher's revelations, the media attacked our family like vultures
on a carcass. It was a difficult time and each of us dealt with it in our own way. I lost
myself in alcohol and cocaine, Lydia chose silence and a wall beyond which no one
could see.
– One evening I was in deep despair. I had no one to talk to, and I really needed it. I
was fifteen, I lost my virginity to a journalist because I was so naive that I thought
someone could actually like me, me as me, not just as Beaufort. I felt terrible. I resented
myself and didn't understand how I could have been so stupid. – He goes silent for a
moment. – That evening, I set up an anonymous profile on Tumblr. I wanted to let it all
out without suffering any consequences. My first post is a disorganized tangle of words.
I wrote everything I felt and that I wanted to be someone
others. The next day, a very nice message was waiting for me in my mailbox.
I look at her in amazement.

– Not Sutton's mistake?
He confirms with a movement of his head.
– Just a few kind words, but in this situation they meant everything to me.
– He smiles slightly. – That's where it started. We confided in each other
things that we had never told anyone else. He told me about Oxford and the
terrible competition that was wearing him down. I wrote about heartbreak and
fears about the future. We encouraged each other. Of course, I never told
him my name, nor did I know who he was. And yet, everything I shared with
him felt more real than any other relationship in my life.
– Madness.
- I know that.
- And then? – I ask further.
– Half a year later, we talked on the phone for the first time. For a solid five
hours. My ear hurt for half the night because I was pressing the phone so
hard against it. From then on, we talked more and more often.
Reminds me of Ruby's birthday. That night when we also talked until late. I
left Wren's party just to hear her voice.
“So that's why you kept kicking me out of your room back then,” I say with a slight smirk.
– Until you finally met in real life?
– I only had the courage to do it over a year later. We met for coffee after
he graduated.
I can't believe this all happened under my nose.
– And since when have you been... together? – I ask and at this moment I feel like a
sixth grader.
Lydia turns red.
– We were never actually together, but we spent a lot of time together
during the holidays. – He clears his throat. “When Graham started talking
about working at Maxton Hall, he ended everything between us.
Immediately. He said we can still be friends online like before, but that's it. –
Her eyes gleam suspiciously. - And you know
What? That was enough for me. It's better than losing him completely. When, at the
end of last school year, it seemed that there would be no place for him, I gained hope
again. It all started from scratch, until in the middle of summer it turned out that he
would work at our school after all.
And despair again. Only this time he decided that we should not communicate, even
on the Internet. He has cut me out of his life completely, he thinks it will be better for
both of us.
For a moment I think about everything she told me.
– What happened at the beginning of the school year? – I finally ask. -When did
Ruby catch you two?
Lydia swallows hard.
– A one-time return to the past.
I nod slightly. I knew Sutton was more than just a momentary distraction for her.
She had been suffering too much lately, defending him too much whenever I made
sarcastic comments about him. However, I didn't expect that they would have a two-
year relationship. And that it was such a serious matter.
– Just one more year and maybe you'll be able to… – I don't really know what I
want to say. Even if Lydia was no longer a student at Maxton Hall, a relationship with
her former teacher would ruin her reputation for good. I can already imagine what
our parents would say.
– James, I'm not stupid. I realize Graham and I don't stand a chance. - She removes her
hand from my grip and reaches for the bag of chips, as if she hadn't just told me her biggest
secret. He pops a few of them into his mouth, staring at the covers on the bed.
It breaks my heart to see her like this. Especially since I can't help her. Because
she's right about one thing: she and Sutton don't stand a chance, and neither do
Ruby and I.
“Thanks for telling me that,” I finally say.
Lydia swallows the chips and takes a long sip of water.
– Maybe you'll tell me about Ruby sometime.
The tightness in her chest that had disappeared during her story returns in full force.
I ignore her searching look and lean over the next sheet of exercises.
– There's nothing to tell.

Her soft sigh seems to come from far away. The text on the paper blurs in my vision as I
think about Ruby walking up to me on the field and me hurling cruel words at her. I see it
over and over again, on an endless, nightmarish loop, until I can no longer pretend to
concentrate on the tasks at hand and stare at the wall.
***
The TSA exam is going well. Everyone around me assumes that I will succeed, so I
prefer not to even wonder what will happen if it turns out otherwise.
A week later, one of the last meetings of the Oxford group takes place. Ruby and Lin are
sitting on the opposite side of the room. As usual these days, Ruby doesn't look at me at all,
but she doesn't give any indication that anything has happened between us. She behaves
as usual, defeats everyone with logical arguments, and once even manages to corner the
presenter.
I have a hard time keeping myself from staring at her. It's damn hard. As soon as she
opens her mouth, I stare at it hungrily and feel an overwhelming desire to kiss her.
In such moments, I imagine my father's face, I remember his cheek and the pain that still
bothered me a few days later. It wasn't the first time he raised a hand against me. It doesn't
happen often, but it does happen. Especially when he thinks I don't meet my family's
expectations.
I'm sorry that Ruby doesn't live up to his expectations, but I have to come to terms with
it. I was born into a family like that, and I cannot distance myself from it, even if I wanted to.
I'll go to Oxford and take over Beaufort. It's time to come to terms with it and stop feeling
sorry for yourself.
– Let's look at the second question. James, will you share your reflection with us? - Pippa
asks suddenly.
I have no idea what she said. The only thing I registered was my name.
“Reluctantly,” I say and lean back in my chair. Honestly, I'd love to go home. And
honestly, I'm interested
only Ruby, but I can't have her. The fact that he is in the same room and
doesn't look at me at all is pure torture. She was the only one who motivated
me. Now there is only sport left, I am not interested in anything else. Even
parties with friends do not drown out the thought that my life seems
meaningless. The clock is ticking, time is passing inexorably. I don't know
how I can stop it. How to make it not seem so hopeless.
– If they invite you for an interview, you must be prepared for every
question – Pippa points out and gives me a reassuring gesture.
I glance at the piece of paper on my desk and read the question written in italics.
When, if ever, is forgiveness a mistake?
I stare at it for ten seconds. And another ten, until my silence begins to
bother everyone and someone clears their throat nervously.
A cold chill runs through me, from my shoulders to my back. The paper
weighs heavy in my hands until I put it back on the table. I feel like I've
eaten too much cement, but my mouth is empty. Nothing but bad language,
but even that is failing me at the moment.
“Usually, forgiveness is a response to harm,” Ruby's voice suddenly
says. – But even if a person forgives another person for the pain they have
caused him, it does not mean that this pain will simply disappear. While it
lasts, forgiveness is a mistake.
I look up. Ruby looks at me blankly. I would love to extend my hand to
her. We are only a few meters apart, but the distance seems insurmountable.
Damn it, Beaufort, get yourself together.
– If you forgive too quickly, people think they can do anything. The anger
of the wronged person is a punishment for the perpetrator who desperately
needs forgiveness, adds Lin.
Oh yes, Ruby's anger is my punishment, I deserve it. Still, I'd rather she
didn't hate me for the rest of the school year. She should be happy because
her dream of Oxford will soon come true.
If anyone among us deserved it, it was her.
“Forgiveness is never a mistake,” I say quietly. There's a twinkle in her
green eyes. – Forgiveness is a proof of strength and generosity.
If a person loses himself in anger for years, he destroys himself and is
therefore no better than the person who hurt him.
Ruby snorts disdainfully.

– Only someone who constantly hurts others could say something like that.
“Forgiving doesn't mean forgetting,” Alistair joins in and looks around. Kesh and
Wren grunt in agreement. – You can forgive someone for their actions, but that
doesn't mean you will forget about them. Forgiveness is necessary to draw a long
line. Forgetting is different, it is something that takes years or never happens.
There's nothing wrong with it. Forgiveness allows you to let go and move on.
At my side, Lydia looks up.

– You make it sound as if you just need to snap your fingers to forgive, and the
real effort is to forget. However, it is impossible to forgive everything. Because if it
was something really terrible, you can't just get away from it.
- I agree. -Ruby again. – If a person forgives too quickly, he does not respect
himself and ignores his pain. This is a self-destructive action. It takes time to feel
when to let go, that's true, but if you treat the decision to forgive as a means to an
end, I think it's wrong.
“Maybe then there's a distinction between healthy and unhealthy forgiveness,”

Lydia remarks, and Ruby nods. – Unhealthy forgiveness is a situation in which we
forgive too quickly and thus expose ourselves to further suffering. Healthy
forgiveness is the result of careful thought. In this case, the person has enough
self-confidence not to be treated this way again.
“But forgiveness isn't the same as going back to the past,” Wren interjects, sitting next
to Lydia. I lean down to see him better. He clasped his hands behind his head and slid
lower in the chair. – In the original assumption, forgiveness meant forgetting about anger;
it is a feature of the victim, not the criminal, so only she can judge what guidelines she
should follow.
“But there are also unforgivable acts,” Kesh says quietly. All heads turn towards
him. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked as if he had already said
everything he wanted.
– Can you elaborate on this, Keshav? Pippa insists.
“I mean murder or something.” In this situation, I understand perfectly when the
victim's relatives cannot forgive. Well, why?
would they do this?

I feel a tickle on the back of my neck. I discreetly glance at Ruby. Our eyes
meet and the tickling intensifies. Two tables separate us, but right now I would
love to jump over them, take her face in my hands and kiss her again.
– But it is also a matter of the moral values of every person. Everyone has
their own sensitivity threshold and assessment of what they consider unforgivable,
adds my sister.
Kesh says something else, but I can't hear him anymore. In Ruby's eyes, I can
clearly see where her threshold is at this moment. What I told her is unforgivable.
Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and there are dark circles under her eyes,
probably because of me. He won't forgive me, and although I've known for a long
time that there's no future for us together, it's only now that I'm fully aware of what
that actually means. I will never be able to touch her again. I will never talk to her
again. I won't laugh with her. I won't kiss her.
This realization shocks me deeply. It was as if it had opened up beneath me

a black hole into which I fall and fall and fall endlessly.
I do my best, try to calm down, breathe deeply and slowly, but the rest of the
discussion escapes me.
And everything else.
OceanofPDF.com
25
Ruby
In the past, I always loved to dream. In dreams, even the impossible became
possible. I could fly and do magic. I studied at Oxford and traveled all over the world.
I was an ambassador. Sometimes my dreams were so realistic that the next day I
ran to school with renewed motivation and tried to give more than one hundred
percent.
Now I hate dreams. James plays the main role in most of them, and I wish it
would end. I wake up in the middle of the night, not because I had a nightmare, but
because I feel a throbbing sensation between my legs, because I dreamed of him
holding me and kissing me. I dream that he would offer me bodily services again in
exchange for my silence, but this time I wouldn't stop him when he unbuttoned his
shirt. I dream that he takes me to a world where he couldn't erase what united us
once and for all.
Also this morning, I wake up with hot cheeks and the blanket between my legs.
With a sigh, I roll onto my back and cover my eyes with my hand. It can't go on like
this. I have to get James out of my subconscious somehow or I'll go crazy. How can
I forget him when every night my dreams prove what could have happened between
us?
I rub my eyes and reach for my cell phone lying on the bedside table. It's not even
six o'clock, my alarm clock will ring in ten minutes. Tired, I sit down and look through
my email. I've received eight new messages since last night. I look through them
slowly, wondering if there is anything important among them.
When I see the sender of the last one, I feel dizzy. There's a message waiting for
me from the head of admissions at St. Hilda's College.
I hold my breath and start reading.
Dear Ruby,
We are delighted to invite you to an interview at St Hilda's College, Oxford.
Congratulations on your positive result in the first stage of the entrance exam.
I don't really know what comes next. My scream echoes throughout the house.
Ember runs into my room. I jump out of bed. It takes me a moment to regain my
balance, but then I shove the phone under her nose.
I'm jumping like crazy.
- Oh my God! – he shouts, grabs my hands and jumps with me. -Oh God, Ruby!
I run downstairs so fast that I almost fell down. Dad in a wheelchair has already
gone into the hall, so mom looks anxiously from the kitchen. I proudly raise my
hand with my cell phone.
– I'm going to Oxford for a job interview!
Mom covers her mouth with her hand, dad shouts happily. Ember wraps her arms around my
waist and hugs me with all her might.
- I'm so happy! But I don't want you to move out.
– For now, it's just an invitation to an interview. That doesn't mean they
accepted me. Plus, Oxford is less than two hours away. – I can't stand still
because of the feeling. My dream, unbearably distant for years, suddenly became
much closer. It's within reach, at least that's what I think at the moment. I'm
shaking from too much energy.
“We all know you're going to crush these conversations,” Dad says. Ember and
I both laugh at the word he used. – They have no choice, they will have to admit
you.
I smile so widely that my cheeks start to hurt. But I still can't stop. I haven't been
so happy about anything in a long time.
– I'm very proud of you, honey. – Mom kisses my temple and pulls me closer to
her. When he lets me go, I lean into Dad. He hugs me too.
– What does that mean exactly? he asks as I straighten up.

I read the message again, this time until the end.
“I'm due in Oxford next Sunday at eight o'clock. Job interviews will take place
on Monday and Tuesday.
Departure on Wednesday before noon.

– Four days in Oxford. – Mom shakes her head in surprise. – I knew they
would invite you.
I smile brightly.
– It says here that I am entitled to free accommodation and meals.
“So we chose the right university,” Dad concludes with a happy twinkle in
his eye.
– I already know what you'll wear. - Ember grabs my hand and pulls me towards the
stairs.
- Me too. Oxford clothes have been ready since the holidays. – And even
longer, considering that for over a year I have had a special collection on
Pinterest titled: Oxford style, to which Ember and I are constantly adding new
inspirations. I wave to my parents before my sister drags me back upstairs. I
can already hear their whispers on the stairs.
“Oxford,” my mother says reverently.
“Oxford,” Dad repeats in the same tone.
They seem so happy. I hope I did well on the TSA exam and that I will do
well in the interviews. I would like my parents to still be proud of me and have
reasons to be happy. Because when my family is happy, I am happy too.
I let Ember lead me to my closet. He takes out more outfits and puts them
on the bed, while I fill out the registration form and confirm my willingness to
take part in job interviews.
Then I send Lin a screenshot of the message and wait for her response.
It all hasn't sunk in yet.

Even if only for four days, I'm going to Oxford.
***
When we arrive on Sunday evening, it is dark, even though it is almost

dark. Still, we all decide to take a walk around campus together, parents,
Ember and I.
St Hilda's College is located at the eastern end of the High Street.
We walk along the River Cherwell, shimmering romantically in the glow of
lanterns, we pass impressive buildings that, despite their dilapidated gray
stone facades do not give the impression of being neglected. On the contrary,
semi-circular windows with white frames and tiny balustrades give them the
magical charm of an age-old fairy tale that I would like to hear someday.
Saint Hilda's College is breathtaking. I'm pushing my dad's wheelchair
around the cobblestones of campus, with Mom and Ember in tow, and
suddenly I feel like I'm in the middle of a fairy tale. The bright smile on my
face that has been present for a week widens even more.
“You'll be sitting there next year,” Dad suddenly says and points
lawn on the left. – With his nose in a pile of books. On a checkered blanket.
“You have very specific ideas, Dad,” I say with a smile.
He nods with a serious face.
- Indeed.
Apart from the fact that the college is wonderful, I also like that it is a
university famous for diversity, building community and respecting all
students. Here they welcome everyone with open arms, regardless of country
of origin and social class. After a few years at Maxton Hall, I need it. I want
to feel good and not have to hide.
I can't imagine another four years at a very conservative college like Balliol,
for example. And besides, Saint Hilda's coat of arms includes unicorns.
“I can't believe I'm actually here,” I whisper. – How lucky I am.
Ember clucks loudly.

– It's not a matter of luck. You deserve it.
He is right. Still, the thought of job interviews the next day makes me feel
sick. I need to do some more work tonight and go over the notes I took
during Pippa's class.
Even though I've known them by heart for a long time, I feel better when I do
them.
We collected the keys to my room. It was with a heavy heart that I said
goodbye to my family. Now I take a tiny travel suitcase and enter the dorm.
It looks average inside, with cold white walls and blue carpeting, but I still
feel a tingle in my stomach as I walk up the stairs to the first floor. Maybe
this will be my new home soon.
My room is at the beginning of the corridor, on the left. I take out the key and
am about to insert it into the lock when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around
with smile.
Which soon disappears from my face.
I thought I would see a student on the stairs, but I did
golden-blond hair, blown by the wind, and a tailored black coat.
James.
“It's a joke,” I blurt out.
He seems as surprised as I am. His gaze darkens, he glances at the key in
his hand. In three long steps he was at the door opposite my room.
I feel like fate has played a cruel trick on me.

Without a word, James opens his room and disappears inside. He looks at me for a
moment longer, then closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the hall.
I've been holding up so well these last few weeks. I ignored him, even
though it hurt, and pretended I didn't care at all. I didn't want to give him the
satisfaction of letting him see how angry and hurt he had made me. And how
much I miss him. But now I feel anger rising in my throat. I would love to go to
his room.
I would like to throw all the words that have been bubbling up inside me for
several weeks in his face.
And yet I know perfectly well that we actually have nothing left to say to
each other. It is what it is. I was a springboard for him, it was naive to think he
could be my friend or even more.
The fact that he's here can't affect me. I have my goal and I cannot lose
sight of it. I've already gone too far. Maybe I should see him as just another
obstacle on the road to Oxford. Besides, as long as he doesn't get in my way,
I can handle the fact that he lives across the street. Like at school: I'll pretend
it doesn't exist.
I open the door vigorously and enter the room. It is very simply furnished, a
small wooden desk, a white built-in wardrobe and a simple bed. From the
window I have a view of the courtyard, in the middle of which there is a huge
tree. I come closer and look at him carefully.
Red-brown leaves lie on the ground, covering the entire lawn.
In the middle there is an alley lit with lanterns, along which there are benches.
I do the same thing as my dad: I imagine myself sitting there in a few months
there, above a pile of books, with a head full of new knowledge, on a campus
that was created for me.
And while this whole James thing still hurts me a lot, it suddenly doesn't seem
so scary anymore. I will manage somehow.
OceanofPDF.com
26
Ruby
When I wake up the next day, I'm first irritated by the empty white ceiling
above my head. Also the mattress feels strange when I turn over. And the
air smells different somehow. I'm in Oxford.
I sit up abruptly and look around, then squeak softly.
I reach for my cell phone and scroll through the messages. My parents
remind me to eat a good breakfast because they know that when I get
nervous I lose my appetite. Ember sends an inspiring quote that I would
love to add to my calendar right away. Kieran wishes me good luck and
tells me he believes in me. The last message is from Lin. This is a
photograph of her room at St John's College, very similar to mine. I reply
to her that I am looking forward to the evening meeting in the pub - this is
one of the highlights of the candidates' visit - and I wish her good luck with the exam.
And then I get up and start getting ready. My hands shake with excitement as I
put on my makeup and put on my chosen outfit.
A few months ago, I chose a cognac-colored corduroy skirt and a white
blouse with a delicate floral pattern for today. My tiny burgundy purse and
a woven bracelet from Ember complete the outfit. It doesn't match the rest
of my clothes, but it's barely visible under the long sleeves of the blouse,
and when I wear it, I get the impression that, in a sense, my sister and
parents are with me.
In the dining room, at first glance you can see who is really studying here
and who is just here for a job interview. Full-fledged students confidently
approach the buffet, banter freely among themselves, and once again I am
overcome with an overwhelming desire to be one of them next year. I also
want to be able to easily find a coffee machine, instead of wandering
around the room, and then sit at the table with friends and talk about the
weekend. I want to smile like them
warmly to the candidates who came for job interviews, hoping that it will make them feel a
little better.
Just yesterday it all seemed very unreal to me.
Now Oxford is real. I eavesdrop on the girls sitting nearby; they are talking about the
seminar. I don't even notice that they caught me doing it. I quickly hang my head and stare
at the toast, which, after just a few bites, weighs like lead in my stomach.
My agenda indicated that I should go to the recreation room after breakfast. I open the
door and am surprised that it can be so noisy in such a small room. Only after a while I
notice that there are not only candidates there, but also older students. They sit on old
sofas, talk loudly and clearly try to lighten the atmosphere.
I find a free seat and sit down. A boy about my age is sitting near me, with a book and a
stack of papers on his lap. He smiles, although it looks more like a grimace. He's probably
as tense as I am.
With trembling fingers, I take out my notes and look through them one last time.
Suddenly I feel a tickling sensation on the back of my neck that gradually spreads over
my entire upper body. I lift my head and look at the door. The next moment I regret doing
it. James stands there, hands in his pants pockets and an unreadable expression on his
face, looking around the room.
Not on me, not on me, not on me...
He sees me though. He scans my face, looks at my outfit, and finally stops at the stack
of papers in my hand. The corners of his mouth lift barely noticeably, but then he turns
serious, as if he had reminded himself that he must not smile, and looks around the room
again, probably looking for a free seat.
– Ruby Bell? – a strange voice sounds. Two meters tall, with wavy brown hair slicked
back and a radiant smile. He's one of those who just tried to lighten the mood. I like it
immediately.
“I'm here,” I say hoarsely and stand up. I have cold, sweaty hands.
I wipe them on my skirt so I can shake his hand without feeling embarrassed.
I slip the notes into my purse and stand up to walk to the door where she's waiting for me.
As I pass James, I raise my head proudly, determined not to even glance

at him. But he grabs my hand. His warm fingers wrap around my wrist. He
gently strokes the sensitive skin with his thumb.
“Good luck,” he whispers. And then he lets go of me and walks over to the chair,
from which I just got up.
It takes me a few seconds to get myself back together. My heart is beating
like crazy, but this time it's not about being excited about Oxford at all.
The student who called me smiles at me reassuringly.
- Hi. I'm Jude Sherington. I'll take you to the interview - he introduces
himself and nods towards the corridor. I leave the break room. I don't look
back anymore. In a few minutes, the game of everything will begin. In a few
minutes I will find out whether I will study here or not.
I touch the spot where James brushed his thumb against my wrist.
I should be concentrating now, but all the way to the professor's office I can't
forget the feel of his finger on my skin.
I would love to get up and walk back and forth a few times to get rid of the
tension. But Jude still sits next to me and smiles reassuringly. He leads me
through the maze of corridors and leans silently against the wall while I sit in
a chair opposite the office door and wait for it to open. Everything will start
any minute now.
I exhale loudly.
- Nervous? – Jude asks.
What a question.
- To madness. Weren't you nervous?
– I was in such a state. – He raises his hand and shakes it exaggeratedly.
I like that he's so honest.
– But you did it.
- Yes Sir. – A warm smile appears on his face. - This is not
so difficult. You will succeed too.
I nod, shrug, and spread my arms, all at the same time. Jude laughs and I
grimace. At that moment, the door opens and a girl comes out of the office,
red in the face, but without a drop of blood in her mouth. Apparently I'm not
the only one with nerves. Unfortunately, I don't have time to ask her how it
was because she disappears without a word.
The door closes again and I glance questioningly at Jude, who is smiling
reassuringly once again.
– Don't worry, they'll let you know when you're ready to go in.
And the waiting begins again. Now I have the impression that all the
tension has disappeared from me, all the energy has gone into this long
sitting outside the office. After another five minutes, my left foot goes
numb, and I move it discreetly to stop the tingling. It feels like a flock of
crazy ants have taken up residence in my shoe. I shake my foot again
and at that moment the door opens. The professor stands in the doorway
and I freeze with my left leg in the air, at a strange angle.
– Ruby, you're welcome. – He has a pleasant, soothing voice that is like a cooling
compress for heated nerves. I get up, straighten up. Behind me I hear Jude wishing me
good luck, but I don't have time to thank him. The professor holds the door to the office
where the interview will take place for me, and as we enter, she introduces herself as
Prudence.
The office is about the same size as our living room, but there is enough
furniture in it to make it feel cozy. They are all old, as if they had been
there since the beginning of the college, and the smell of old papers fills
the air. There are shelves along the walls, laden with books, created
without any order or order. On the opposite side of the room there is a
small desk and another lecturer sits at it. She notes something earnestly
and only looks up when Prudence leads me towards her. I smooth out my
skirt once again and sit down. The two women take a seat on the other
side of the desk, open their notebooks and wait.
My heart is in my throat, but I try not to let it show and appear confident.
I am absolutely confident that I will be able to handle this conversation. I
prepared carefully and did my best to get here.
I breathe very deeply and slowly exhale the air from my lungs.
“We're so glad you accepted our invitation, Ruby,” the second lecturer
finally says. – My name is Ada Johnson, and Prudence and I teach
political science at Saint Hilda's College.
Like Prudence, she has a calm, gentle voice. I'm intrigued by how it's
possible that these women are not only some of the smartest in the country,
but they also have a gift for calming nervous unfortunates like me.
“Thank you very much for inviting me,” I reply and clear my throat. My voice
it sounds weird, like there's something stuck in my throat.
“Let's get to the first question,” Prudence continues. - Why
do you actually want to study at Oxford?
I look at her in disbelief. I didn't expect this. All guides and online forums
mentioned only knowledge questions directly related to the chosen field of
study. I can't help it, a smile appears on my face. And then I start talking.
About everything. That I became interested in politics as a little girl and that I
knew at the age of seven that I wanted to study at Oxford. About the fact that
on my twelfth birthday my father gave me a subscription to the Spectator and
the New Stateman and spent hours watching parliamentary proceedings with
him. About my passion for organizing and debating, about my dream to
change the world for the better.
Without exaggerating too much, I emphasize why Oxford is the best university
for me to learn what I need to achieve my goal.
When I finish, I'm out of breath. I don't know if they are happy with my
answer, but since I wasn't expecting a high five, everything seems fine to me.
Two more questions are asked, this time really related to politics. I argue to
the best of my ability and I don't get sidetracked by their counter-arguments.
This all lasts no more than fifteen minutes and suddenly the conversation is
over.
– Thank you very much – I say again, but Ada is already leaning over her
notes and doesn't hear me. Prudence walks me to the door and smiles as I
say goodbye. I reply in kind and go outside. The door closes behind me. In a
split second I feel extremely tired.
On the chair opposite the door sits the boy who smiled at me earlier in the
break room. I'm reminded of the girl with no blood in her mouth who
disappeared before I could talk to her. I would have appreciated a few words
of support from her, but now I know why she left so quickly. Now that the
adrenaline is wearing off, I want out of here
go out, breathe some fresh air. Still, I manage to say, rather enthusiastically:
- You can do
it, good luck.
Only then do I leave and try to get back to my dorm.
OceanofPDF.com
27
Ruby
I wander around campus for the rest of the day. I buy coffee to go, walk on the
spacious lawns, look at the buildings where, if the guide is to be believed,
philosophy, political science and economics are taught.
I feel wonderfully blended into the crowd of real students. At one point I get so
absorbed in my thoughts that I don't even notice that I'm entering the lecture hall
with them. No one pays any attention to me, so I discreetly take a seat in the last
row and listen to a lecture on the works of Immanuel Kant for the next hour and
a half.
This is the best hour and a half of my life.
In the evening, candidates for all Oxford colleges are invited on a trip to the
Turf Tavern, a legendary pub where various celebrities used to hang out, from
Oscar Wilde, through Thomas Hardy, Elizabeth Taylor, Margaret Thatcher, to
actors from the Harry Potter film series. .
I get there way too early, but I'm not the only one.
I see a few people who were also waiting in the break room this morning.
They stand in small groups. Jude is also there, greeting me with a bright smile
and asking me about the conversation.
When everyone is ready, we set off. The pub is located approximately three
kilometers from campus. On the way we pass Magdalen Bridge, under which the
River Cherwell shimmers orange in the light of the setting sun. We pass by a
deer park, where several animals look at us curiously and twitch their ears as we
pass them. Like others, I reach out to pet them, but they are not that tame.
They all turn around at once and disappear into the distance.
The further route leads along old buildings, through streets sometimes so
narrow that only two people can walk side by side at a time. It's falling
nightfall. If I were alone, I wouldn't dare venture into the maze of narrow alleys,
but Jude walks next to me and talks about his studies to keep me occupied. I'm
literally drinking the words out of his mouth. Everything I saw today, everything
he tells me, only strengthens my dream to study here. I've never wanted anything
as much as I wanted Oxford in my life. Now that I've had a taste of it, I'll be
devastated if I don't succeed. Will I survive this? I don't know. Apart from the fact
that I have no plan B.
Suddenly the road widens. Lanterns illuminate the darkness, snippets of

conversation and the sounds of music reach my ears.
A moment later we reach a square bursting at the seams. Majority
those gathered appear to be students. They talk carefree and sip beer.
Our group pushes through the crowd until we reach the Turf Tavern.
The building where the place is located looks very old. The white façade is
crossed by dark diagonal beams. The roof is a bit crooked and covered with
moss in places. In front of the entrance there is a garden where several people
sit under umbrellas. It's so cold I can see the steam I exhale in the air, so it's no
wonder they're wearing thick coats and hats and wrapped in blankets.
There is a string of lights with colored bulbs hanging under the sign with the
name of the pub, and the entrance is directly below it. The doors are dark green,
the old paint is peeling off in places. I go inside.
The interior is almost medieval. Low ceiling, walls made of raw stone. Small
wall lamps are hung on them, larger lamps hang above the tables. We go through
a narrow corridor deeper into the premises, to a room located a bit more out of
the way.
Jude, who is nearly six feet tall, walks in front of me, so I can't see much
behind him. But I can hear it. The laughter I know so well. Jude walks over to the
table reserved for us and pulls out one of the chairs. The others also take their
seats, and I stand there transfixed, looking at the group that has taken the next
table. Wren, Alistair, Cyril, Camille, Keshav, Lydia and…
James.
James, who wished me good luck this morning and touched my wrist.
James, who when he sees me, freezes with the beer bottle raised to his mouth,
but a second later he turns to Cyril as if nothing had happened. With difficulty
I swallow.
I don't know why I was so surprised to see James and his gang.
After all, I knew that everyone was applying for a place at Oxford, and this evening
in the pub was a must-see for everyone who was invited to interviews.
Nevertheless, it dampens my euphoria and I must admit that Oxford will not be
the brand new beginning I had imagined. I have to accept that at least some of
the people from Maxton Hall will be here too.
Assuming, of course, that I get in at all.

– Ruby!
I turn around and see Lin running towards me, arms spread wide. Her cheeks
are red from the frost and she has wrapped herself in a thick gray scarf that
covers half of her face. She throws herself at my neck.
I hug her with all my strength.
– Tell me everything! - I say when we finally break apart.
“Sit down first,” Jude suggests and points to the bench across from him. Lin
sits down first. I follow her lead, but first I take off my coat. Somehow I manage
not to glance at James every now and then.
“It's so great here,” Lin begins when we finally take our seats and read the
menu. – It's like you went back in time.
– Yes, time seems to have stopped in this pub – I admit. - But now
tell me. You wrote a very mysterious message. You did well?
- You first! – Lin insists, so I summarize her morning interview.
– They both had poker faces, I couldn't read anything from them, I have no
idea if they liked what I was saying. I must have caught them off guard, because
when I asked the first question I beamed from ear to ear - I add at the end.
- Well, at least they weren't glaring at you. There was a guy on my committee
with a monobrow that he wrinkled so much that I actually cut myself in fear several
times. I'm so glad it's over now. - He sighs gloomily and leans on his hand. – I did
really bad.
“But you have one more conversation,” I say and lightly touch her shoulder. –
I'm sure you'll succeed.
– I have two more. It has not been possible to establish a single term for economics
and philosophy. You are lucky.
"Well, then you have two more chances to show them what you're made of."
be. It's better this way, believe me.
– During my introductory interview, I was asked if I could pick up a pen that had fallen
under my seat – Jude suddenly joins our conversation.
- I'm listening? – Lin is surprised.
– Of course, I immediately started wondering if this was part of the job interview, so I
analyzed the question scientifically and answered it accordingly. – He smiles broadly. –
Meanwhile, it turned out that the professor really wanted me to take her pen out from under
her chair.
Lin and I both burst out laughing.
Soon a waiter comes to us and takes our order. Jude emphasizes that at Turf Tavern
you must drink at least one beer, so we order that and some small snacks. While we wait
for our food, I tell Lin about my afternoon and the lecture I snuck into. We also take the
opportunity to pepper Jude with questions about lectures, professors, other students and life
at Oxford.
After some time, the waiter brings our orders. For the first time, a mug of beer is placed
in front of me. The only alcohol I had ever drank was the sweet filth that Wren had plied me
with at a party two years ago.
When we toast this time, I know exactly what I'm doing. This is my decision. I drink willingly
because it's part of the experience. I feel like an adult and responsible, doing something that
was forbidden for so long.
I raise the mug to my mouth and take the first sip.
I grimace in disgust.
– What an eyesore!
Jude and Lin laugh loudly, and I look at them with a genuinely concerned expression.
– Are you really drinking this of your own free will?

– Is this your first beer? – Jude guesses.
– And definitely the last one.
- Now you say that. Jude wiggles his eyebrows significantly. Lin joins him with a nod of
his head. – It's the same with coffee. As a child you can't stand it, but with age you discover
its advantages. – He looks at my chin. – By the way, you have a beer beard.
Terrified, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

– I've always liked coffee, but this... It tastes like... like bark!
Lin and Jude laugh out loud.

“I'd rather not ask how you know what bark tastes like,” Jude jokes.
I demonstratively move my beer to the center of the table.
– Here you go, help yourself. I'm going to get a coke.
I get up from the bench, squeeze between two tables and walk down a narrow corridor
to the bar. It's even more crowded than before, apparently the Turf Tavern is an attraction
not only for students, but also for ordinary tourists. It takes almost ten minutes for the
bartender to take my order and finally place a glass of Coke in front of me. I thank him with
a smile and turn on my heel.
That's when I notice Lydia. He nervously pushes through the crowd towards the toilet. I
don't think she saw me. She is very pale, and I can see her hand shaking as she pushes
away the man blocking her path. Bewildered, I follow her with my eyes until she disappears
behind the bathroom door. She must have had too much to drink, and it's not even eight
o'clock yet. I shake my head and go back to our table, where Jude, Lin, and a few of the
other people we came with are talking excitedly about something. I join the discussion and
take a sip of Coke from time to time. Every now and then I glance at the place Lydia used
to occupy, but she hasn't come back from the bathroom yet. When I think about it, I come
to the conclusion that she really didn't look good, or rather quite the opposite.
I discreetly observe her friends. James and Wren are discussing something passionately,
Camille is almost sitting on Kesh's lap and whispering something in his ear, and he smiles
slightly. Across from them, Alistair downs half a pint of beer in one gulp. I see the bitterness
in his gaze and the knitted eyebrows. He reacts to Wren, who is currently saying something
to him, but he doesn't take his eyes off Keshav and Camille, who are making out under his
nose. It's bad enough that Kesh is hiding his relationship with Alistair from his friends, but
now he's groping a girl in front of him - that's too much. In my opinion, he has sunk so low
that he cannot go any lower.
Neither of them seemed to notice that Lydia wasn't back yet. After a moment's hesitation,
I get up. The level of alcohol in the blood of those gathered has increased significantly in
the last half an hour, which is immediately visible in the crowd at the bar.
Conversations are so loud that they almost drown out the music, and as I make my way
through the crowd, few people willingly give up their seats. I breathe a sigh of relief when I'm
finally on the other side of the room.
I timidly enter the women's bathroom and look around. I see some small cabins. All doors
are open except one.
There's a quiet sob coming from behind them, and then... loud vomiting.
I knock softly and find that it is not locked. They duck a little,
but I don't dare push them any harder.
– Lydia?
“Leave me alone,” he says hoarsely.
I remember the morning after the party when, during the lunch break, she sat down at the
table with us and apologized to me. She was nice to me, just like that. Now I have the
opportunity to return the favor.
- Can I help you? – I ask quietly.
She doesn't answer because she's feeling nauseous again, and then I hear an unpleasant
thump. I go to the sink, take a handful of wipes from the container, wet them under the tap,
and then hand them to Lydia at the door.
- Please.
He takes them out of my hand.
I freeze in this position, crouched, not knowing what to do. I don't want to leave Lydia
alone like this, but I don't know how I can help her either.
I hear the sound of water being flushed, and then the door opens a little.
I see her face in the crack. It's really unfair. Despite her tearful eyes and red spots on her
cheeks, she still looks fantastic. I see a huge resemblance to her brother in her face. But
thoughts of James won't help much in this situation.
– Can I get you some water?
– No, thanks, I'm better. I still have to wait a few minutes before everything stops spinning.
– He leans his back against the cabin wall, closes his eyes and tilts his head back.
-Did you drink too much? - I'm asking.

Lydia shakes her head almost imperceptibly.
“I didn't drink at all,” she replies in a whisper.
- You are sick? – I'm not giving up. – Listen, it's definitely here somewhere
emergency room if you don't get better.
He doesn't answer.
“Or maybe…” I begin hesitantly. – Maybe it's nerves? Are you nervous about
tomorrow?
Only now Lydia looks up at me. I can see in her eyes
both amusement and deadly sadness.
“No,” he finally replies. – It's not nerves. I had both interviews today and they
went really well.
“So great,” I say carefully, but Lydia doesn't seem particularly happy. On the
contrary, new tears appear in her eyes. – Why aren't you happy?
He shrugs and places a hand on his stomach.

– It doesn't matter how my interviews went. I won't study here anyway.
- Why not? You do not want?

He swallows hard.
-Actually, I want to.
- So what is the problem? If your interviews went well, you'll definitely get in.
– That's not the point. I just think that... I won't be able to study.
I don't understand it.
- But why? – I ask, amazed.
He doesn't answer. He lowers his head and stares at the hand on his
stomach. She moves it gently through the fabric of the blouse, lightly stroking
what is underneath: a small bulge.
Under different circumstances, I wouldn't have noticed it at all. Every person
has smaller or larger folds on the stomach, especially when sitting.
But most people don't pet them. And she doesn't look at them with as much tenderness
as Lydia does right now.
All pieces of the puzzle fall into place. I inhale loudly.
“You really haven't been drinking,” I say in a whisper.

He shakes his head. A tear rolls down her cheek.
– And it has been this way for many months.
I remember the party at Cyril's where she asked James for a drink but didn't
drink it at all. And of course the day I caught her with Mr. Sutton. I feel a lump
building in my throat.
– Is that… – I can't ask that question, but I don't have to either. Lydia knows what
I'm asking and nods her head. “I don't know what to say,” I admit.
– It's just like me. – He wipes tears from his eyes.

– What month are you in?
He gently strokes his belly.
– This is the twelfth week.
– Who knows about this? – I ask further.
- Nobody.
– Even James?
He denies with a movement of his head.
– Even James. And that's how it's supposed to stay.
– Why did you tell me?

“Because you wouldn't stop asking,” he replies immediately. He sighs loudly.
-Besides, James trusts you. And he doesn't trust anyone.
I press my lips into a thin line and try not to think about what that means.
– In the very near future you won't be able to hide it any longer –
I notice and point to her belly.
- I know. “She seems so broken, so sad, and a wave of sympathy washes over me.
– If you want to talk, you can count on me. Also within

the coming weeks and months. You know, if you need someone.
Lydia looks at me skeptically.
- But why?
I carefully touch her shoulder.
– I'm serious, Lydia. This is a big deal. I understand that you don't want to talk to anyone
about this, but... - I look at her belly. – You're going to have a baby.
He follows my gaze.
– It's weird to hear that. I mean, I know it, but no one has ever said it out loud yet.
It made it seem a little less real.
I know exactly what she means. When someone says something out loud, a space
is created in which the information can develop and become true.
– Shall I walk you to your room? – I ask after a long moment.

Lydia is silent, looks at me speechlessly for a few seconds, then nods and
gives me a cautious smile, the first of the evening. I don't know if she really
trusts me, but even if she doesn't, maybe that will change in the future. I know
her two biggest secrets and I intend to keep them to myself. I won't betray her.
On the contrary, I imagine that she will need a friend in difficult times.
I stand up and hold out my hand to help her up.

– You do realize that I was puking in the toilet a few minutes ago, right? – he notes.
I grimace in disgust.
“Thanks for reminding me,” I say, but I don't withdraw my hand.
Lydia takes it with a smile.
OceanofPDF.com
28
Ruby
The job interview the next day was pure horror. Partly because I spent
half the night staring at the ceiling and thinking about Lydia's situation,
partly because I can't find a common language with the two presenters
at all. At first they make jokes that I don't understand, and when the
actual conversation finally begins, they are clearly not happy with my
answers. They ask me how many people are in this room, and I answer
that there is no way to know exactly.
It's possible that this is all just my dream, or that one of them only exists
in my imagination. This is one of the tasks Pippa and I have been
practicing, but they don't like my solution.
The philosophy professor says it's pseudo-intellectual nonsense and
expects me to question his words and prove him wrong. And then he
asks me for a logical answer, so I answer quietly:
- Three.
Later, I am completely baffled and analyze each question a hundred
times before giving any answer. It's a disaster and when it's over half
an hour later, I feel dizzy.
I automatically politely say goodbye and leave the office. It's only
when I'm outside that I feel how sick I feel. I lean heavily against the
wall so as not to fall. I look at the candidate who is about to enter right after me.
Of course it's James.
His ability to come to my side during the worst moments of my life
drives me crazy. James is talking to the student who brought him here,
or rather she's saying something to him, and he stares at the toes of his
shoes. Only when the door opens does he lift his head.
It looks fantastic. He wears black pants and a dark green shirt that highlights his strong
shoulders and chest. It pisses me off that it looks so great. Plus, it annoys me that he
doesn't look like a nerd even when dressed up smartly. In fact, everything about it drives
me crazy.
Most of all, he broke my heart. Every time he looks at me, the pain that I have managed
to suppress a little over the last few weeks returns. My heart leaps into my throat, my mouth
goes dry, a strange feeling fills my stomach. And this damn longing. The desire to go up to
him and take his hand, to just touch him and feel his warm skin. I would also like to wish
him good luck, as he did to me yesterday, but I am unable to speak to him. My voice will
break if I open my mouth. And right now, when I'm already on the verge of tears.
Suddenly James lifts his head and moves towards me. Before anything can happen
say, I look away and quickly walk away down the hall.
The rest of the day drags on like crazy. After the job interview, I would like to escape to
my room and hide under the covers, but I am intercepted by other candidates who, together
with two senior students, are going on a tour of the campus. It's true that I saw a lot
yesterday, but since after such a terrible conversation I don't know if I will have the
opportunity to set foot in Oxford again, I join them.
What cruelty to show a person a fantastic university where he probably won't be able to
study at all! However, Tom and Liz put so much heart into the trip that I decide to push
away the gloomy thoughts for now and focus on their words.
Saint Hilda's is one of the first Oxford colleges founded specifically for women. It has
only been nine years since men have been accepted here as well. I already knew that the
university was known for its relaxed atmosphere, but I only felt it when we walked around
the campus. Students greet each other warmly, and even those who are sitting among
books in the library and seem very stressed take a moment to answer our questions.
There is a completely different atmosphere here than at Maxton Hall. Here, no one
divides people into poor and rich, cool and uncool, worthy and unworthy, here everyone
seems to be equal. Just the thought that I could have really screwed it up makes my heart
tighten.
Lin texts me in the afternoon and asks how I did, but I don't have the strength to answer
her. Just like parents or Ember. I was disappointed in myself and before I tell others about
it, I have to deal with what happened myself.
I know perfectly well how they will react: they will show me understanding, care and love.
I can't stand it right now.
In the early evening we return to the recreation room. Now I'm really ready to escape to
my home, but there is one more item left on the agenda - a meeting with Jude and other
students who have declared their willingness to answer our questions about studying and
living in Oxford. I try my best to look for the remnants of positive energy within myself, but
suddenly I ran out of it. So I sink into a comfortable, deep chair, tuck my legs in and decide
to just sit and listen.
The room slowly fills. At some point, James also appears. He arrives accompanied by a
student who took him to the interview in the morning and waited with him at the door. They
are deep in conversation and no matter how much I want to, I can't take my eyes off him.
I never understood why people talk about heartbreak when someone falls unhappily in
love, and now I don't understand it at all. Whenever I see James, not only does my heart
hurt, every part of my body hurts. In addition, I have trouble breathing. This should be called
a broken body. Although it sounds less romantic, it reflects the essence of the matter more.
I manage to tear my eyes away from him the moment he notices me in the chair. Our
eyes meet for a split second, but it's enough to make me feel tingly. I'm too tired and nervous
to fight it.
– My dears, we are complete! – Jude begins and claps his hands. – Here we go! There
are still free seats back there - he says and waves his hand in my direction. Most of the
people gathered comfortably on sofas and armchairs, but next to me there are a few free
chairs upholstered with floral fabric. Out of the corner of my eye I see two other boys walking
towards me. I glance carefully to the side. I meet James's dark gaze.
I move to the left corner of the chair. I don't care what he thinks about me. I just
don't want to sit close to him right now. I actually don't want to be in the same
room with him. The pain in my chest is bothering me enough.
“You can ask anything,” Liz assures. – Studies, private life,

career plans.
– Really everything? – says the guy sitting on James' left side.
– You can ask about anything, but whether we will answer is a completely different matter
matter – Jude retorts and several people burst out laughing.
– Okay, who starts? – says the student who brought James. She's really pretty,
with dark hair and olive skin. I think she's without makeup, but she's still glowing.
I'd like to ask her how she does it, but I'm afraid that's not the kind of question
they want.
– Tell me, are these studies really that hard? You have it at all
time for private life? – asks the girl I see for the first time.
Jude, Liz and the pretty student look at each other knowingly. After a moment,
Jude motions for Liz to respond.
– Of course, these studies are more demanding than at other universities,
especially when you live on campus and you have to get used to everything. But
you also have time for your private life, yes.
A quiet murmur runs through the room, as if everyone liked this answer.
- Next question! - Jude says and looks around expectantly.

A moment of silence and then...
– Is it true what they say? That studying here is a breeze compared to Balliol?
I turn my head sharply towards James. He seems genuinely interested and

waits for a response from the three students, who look at him in surprise.
“It's the same direction,” Jude begins after a moment's hesitation. He frowns. –
But since I study here and not there, I can't judge it. I can only tell you what it's
like at Saint Hilda's College.
– A simple yes would be enough.
I look at James in disbelief. I can't believe he actually said that. And in that
terrible tone, of course
he learned from his father and which makes me so angry.

The need to speak out grows with every second, the protective walls are breaking
down piece by piece.
Don't do this, don't do this, don't do this...
I ignore the voice of reason.
“Of course, everything's clear,” I blurt out.
James slowly turns towards me.
– What's so clear? –
That Saint Hilda isn't good enough for you just because your father didn't study
here. – I try to control my voice, but it doesn't work very well. Not today. Not when
he's acting like this.
Something like pain appears in his eyes.
- Not true.
This lie makes all the rage that has been building up inside me over the past
weeks burst out in an instant. I can't hold it in for another second, the words spill
out of me, loud and unstoppable.
– What's not true? That Saint Hilda isn't good enough for you? Like I'm not good
enough for you? Because your parents thought of someone else for you? Or is it
not true that you only do what they want you to do, instead of thinking about what
you want from life? What a coward you are!
The room falls silent. I breathe heavily, my chest rises quickly, and I feel a
suspicious burning sensation under my eyelids.
Oh no. NO.
I won't cry in front of all these people, I won't make an even bigger idiot of myself
than before.
I jump up from my chair and leave the lounge without a word.
I run down the hall until I reach the stairs and then I hear quick footsteps behind
me. I jump two steps at a time, I'm already on the first floor, in my corridor. James
is right behind me. He overtakes me, stops and blocks my path.
“That's not true,” he repeats, out of breath. Her face is flushed and her hair is
messy. Whenever I see him, it seems to me that our bodies are connected by some
invisible bond. The need to touch him increases the closer he gets, no matter how
mad I am at him. It can't be like this. How can I still want him even though he hurts
me so much?
– What's not true? – It's hard to say these words, so many emotions are pressing
in my throat.
The despair in his eyes completely baffles me. – That
you're not good enough for me.
I stare at him in disbelief for a moment, then clench my fists so hard that my nails
dig into my skin.
“What nonsense,” I say through my teeth.
He takes a step towards me.
– Ruby…
- NO! – I interrupt him. – You can't do this to me. You can't break up with me and
humiliate me in front of your friends and then just pat my hand and wish me good
luck. You've made it clear enough that you don't want me in your wonderful life.
- It was not me…

First he runs after me, and now he talks incoherently. I would love to grab him by
the shoulders and shake him as hard as I could.
– It wasn't you? – my voice is dripping with irony.
– I'm sorry for the way I acted. I'm so sorry, Ruby. But I…
I can't. I just can not.
He spreads his hands helplessly.
“Then why the hell are you here?” Why are you even talking to me?
“Because I…” And he stops again. He knits his eyebrows as if he doesn't know
the answer to my question. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. He looks
like he's holding back the words that are on the tip of his tongue.
– You don't know what you want from me. You don't know what you want from life.
You don't seem to know anything at all.
He turns even redder. He stands in the same position as me, shoulders tense,
fists clenched. I've never seen him like this before. He takes an angry step towards
me and I feel heat radiating from him.
– I know perfectly well what I want. – There is no trace of hesitation, suddenly
he seems very confident.
– So why don't you take it?
– Because what I want has never mattered.
The remnants of my self-control were hanging by a thread the entire time

at this point it breaks irreversibly.
- For me yes! For me, it's always been about what you want! – I shout and
punch his chest.
He reacts quickly, grabs my wrists and presses them to his chest.
We breathe. Fast, nervous. I feel his frantic heart under my fingers.

It's beating so fast. By me. Because of what is between us, what has been growing
between us for months.
We move simultaneously. James pulls me closer to him. I climb on my
toes. Our lips find each other. I furiously tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling
at it, and he grabs my thighs and digs his fingers into them. I bite his lower lip
because I'm mad at him. He sighs deeply and moves his hand to my buttocks.
The second one travels up my back, higher and higher, until it stops at the
nape of my neck. All the weeks during which I ignored him with all my might
and fought with my own feelings are hitting me like a hurricane.
Our kiss is a continuation of the argument, a fight during which rage turns
into something else. A sound I've never made before escapes my chest. A
desperate sigh, almost a sob.
I run my tongue across his lower lip and savor the taste.
The next moment James grabs the back of my neck and kisses me deeply, tenderly.
And suddenly his kiss feels like an apology. His trembling fingers reveal how
long he's wanted to do this and how much effort he's put into holding back.
He kisses me as if he wanted to lose himself in me; it's a mix of lust, despair,
hatred and every feeling in between.
It's driving me crazy, and yet I haven't felt this alive in weeks. I'm intrigued as
to how this is possible. I don't understand how someone who should actually
be hated can bring someone to such a state.
James wraps his arms around my waist, lifts me, and carries me down the
hall. During this entire time, we don't break the kiss for even a second. My
back hits the door to his room and I gasp loudly. I scratch his neck hard.
James moans into my mouth, pushing against me. His hard body is the only
thing keeping me from falling. He moves his hand from my waist down to my
thigh, then lets go, and after a moment I hear the faint jingle of keys. In the next second
he hugs me tighter and the door opens behind me. James carries me over the
threshold and kicks the door shut behind us. I can't even hear them click into place.
Only one thing matters now, only him and the emotions that guide us. This time no
one will stop us. No one will spoil what is between us. Only we will decide what to
do next.
I move more gently, but no less passionately. Just a few steps and we are at the
bedside. James collapses onto the bed. He moves his hand to my back to cushion
the impact. At the same time, he presses against me until I sigh loudly and wrap
my legs around his hips.
He gets to know every millimeter of my face with his mouth. He kisses my
cheeks and the corners of my mouth. Top of the nose. He strokes his chin and jaw.
I press my fingers into his shoulders and close my eyes. I have stars under my
eyelids as he gently sucks on the skin of my neck and finds the place where the
blood pulses faster.
“Ruby…” she whispers my name, just like she did that night over a month ago
when we kissed on the basement stairs. The memory returns suddenly, intensely,
and with it despair and pain. I can't control the burning sensation under my eyelids.
Hot tears run down my cheeks.
James freezes. He leans back and narrows his eyes at me. His pupils are dilated
and his cheeks are flushed, he looks like he's on drugs. He strokes my face
tenderly and repeats my name in a whisper.
I cover my face with my arm so he won't see the tears, but he takes my hand
and gently moves it to the side. He intertwines our fingers and places us on the pillow.
With his other hand, he brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. Then he traces the
delicate skin under his eyes with his index finger and wipes away the salty drops.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers, lips against my temple and pressing against it
tender kiss.
He caresses my face endlessly. His arms form our own safe haven. I look up at
him and see how swollen his lower lip is. You can see exactly where I bit him. It
makes me feel stupid.
I gently stroke the reddened skin. James closes his eyes. I touch his jaw, trace my
fingers over his knitted eyebrows, stop at the single freckles on his cheeks. Now,
in winter, they are so pale you can barely see them.
“I'm so sorry,” he repeats in a whisper. His voice will break at any moment.
“That's not enough for me,” I reply, just as quietly.

He leans over me and presses his forehead against mine.
– Me neither.
We freeze in this position for a long time. I like feeling his weight on me, so I
wrap my arms around him, dig my fingers into his shirt, and just hold him close. I
feel his heartbeat, as fast and erratic as mine, and I revel in his closeness.
However, this does not change everything that happened between us.
What he accused me of and how he treated me. I can't forget about it.
Not unless I get more than a whispered apology. I want an explanation and I think I
deserve it.
– It can't go on like this, James.
Is smiling. The corners of his mouth turn up just the slightest, but I can still see it.
The wrinkles on his forehead smooth out and his whole body seems to soften.
- What are you laughing at?
He pulls back a little and looks at me. With hope.

– You haven't said my name in a long time. That's wonderful to hear.
I shake my head, take his face in my hands, lift myself up a little and kiss him
gently. It's like a dream come true; I can do something I thought I would never have
the opportunity to do again. His lips are the perfect shape, they fit mine perfectly.
We are like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. James moves his hand from my
face to my neck and shoulders.
A shiver runs down my spine as his fingers trail lower and lower to my waist. I feel
him trembling. I want us to move forward, to pick up where we left off, but I can't do
that unless I know where we stand.
James seems to sense it. He gently untangles himself from my arms.

– On the pitch... I told you then that you can't lose something
what you never had.
The memory of those words is like a painful blow. I want to look away, but I can't. Too
many of my emotions are reflected in his eyes.
– I lied. Ruby Bell, I've been yours since you threw me the money
in the face.
OceanofPDF.com
29
James
His eyes widen as he hears my words. I slide off of her and pull her with me until
we're both lying on our sides, looking into each other's eyes.
I keep my hand on her waist and stroke it lightly. I would love to touch her
everywhere, constantly, forever. I missed her so much, I thought I was going crazy,
and now I feel like I can breathe deeply again for the first time in weeks.
I can't screw this up. I won't risk losing her again just because I can't tell her
what's wrong with me. Why am I the way I am, why do I make decisions that hurt
us so much.
It's not easy to find the right words, especially when the fear that he won't forgive
me grips my throat painfully. I don't know what I'll do then.
Ruby looks at me calmly. He's waiting. Her hair is disheveled and her cheeks
and lips are red. She's so beautiful that I have to tear my eyes away from her, stare
down at my hand on her waist, and finally gather my courage.
– I told you that after finishing school I would start working in the company. For…
It is important for my parents to have a woman by my side.
In their opinion, it's part of the image. They would love to find me a fiancée now, so
that everything would be as it should be.
Ruby makes an unidentifiable noise. I look at her and see her wrinkle her nose
in distaste. It's good to know that she doesn't like this idea, because I can't imagine
how I would feel if it turned out that my parents wanted to marry her off to someone
other than me.
– You were special to me from the very beginning. I have changed.
I didn't even notice it myself, but my friends and family did.
For weeks I listened to questions about what was happening to me, why my
thoughts were always somewhere else, and so on. When my father saw us
together in the tailor's workshop, he began to suspect something. And when he caught us
at the Halloween party... - I swallow hard. – He was already sure.
“Is that why you had a split lip?” Did he hit you? – he guesses and gently brushes my
lips with his fingertips. The place where she bit me is still throbbing, but it's not unpleasant.
“Yes,” I answer quietly. I've never talked to anyone about my father before. Even with
Lydia, who knows a lot, but certainly not everything. I assume my friends know what's
going on at home, but they never asked me anything when I showed up with a black eye
or a split lip. As if we all decided together that this topic doesn't exist, and everyone
follows this unwritten rule. I'm very comfortable with this.
– Does he beat you often, James? – he asks in a whisper.

I can't answer her, not when she looks at me with such tenderness in her eyes. But
that's not the point at all. I just want to explain why I treated her so terribly, because that's
my only responsibility, no matter how difficult my situation is.
“It doesn't matter,” I reply a moment too late. I'm hoarse again, I have to clear my
throat again. “Anyway, my parents saw you as a threat.” They sensed that you were
important to me. Much more important than this damn company.
Something changes in her gaze. He looks so piercingly, so intensely, that it seems to

me that he is looking inside my soul. I can't hide from her, but in that moment I realize I
don't want to. The parents were right to be worried. Ruby is a threat to them and how they
have imagined my future. I can't believe that it's only now that I'm fully realizing it.
I am in love with Ruby Jemima Bell.

What I feel for her is overwhelming, powerful, and won't go away no matter how hard I
try to ignore it. I have found this out over the past weeks. Ruby burst into my life, turned it
on its head, and claimed a place of honor in the chaos she created.
It doesn't matter who I have to stand up to, it doesn't matter if my father throws me out
on the street. Lydia once asked if Ruby was worth it.
I let my surroundings decide for me and I decided that it wasn't. It was the stupidest
decision I've ever made, and I'm mad at myself for pushing away the girl I love. I
realize I can't undo it, but I have to at least try to fix it.
- You're right. I really don't know what I actually want from life. From the very
beginning I was told what to do and what not to do. Sometimes I feel like I'm an
extra on a movie set, in a script written especially for me, but in which I can't
change even a comma.
Ruby purrs softly.
– When my father saw us together, he became furious. He doesn't allow himself
to think that I could spend time with someone he doesn't accept, someone he
didn't choose for me.
He flinches barely noticeably at these words. I take it immediately
by the hand and squeeze it tightly.
– I tried to imagine our future and I see only problems in it. My parents are
dictators when it comes to their children's lives.
And you... You once said that you dream of a professional career. I can't come to terms
with the idea that my father is throwing obstacles in your way just because you don't suit
him as his son's partner. I started to feel scared because I knew there was nothing I could
do about it. I couldn't protect you from him.
My heart stops in my throat. I realize I sound pathetic, but I want to

be honest with her at all costs.
– Ruby, you will conquer the world. You should be with someone who will
support you, whose family will welcome you with open arms. I won't give it to you.
I won't really give you anything except a lot of problems that I don't know if I can
solve.
He looks at me in silence. I hold my breath. I expect him to get up and leave
the room without saying a word. I deserve it, I realize that.
Ruby, however, has no intention of leaving me. Instead, he leans down and
presses his lips against mine.
He surprises me so much that I don't kiss him back.
“Oh, James,” he whispers. He releases his hand from my grip and runs it over
my chest until he places it over my heart. – You… stupid.
Okay, I didn't expect that.
– Why bother with the future when we have now? – he asks quietly.
– Because you deserved better. My future is already ruined.

Yours is not.
He touches my cheek.
“That's not true,” he says firmly. – You have the same opportunities as
everyone else. You just have to reach out for it, James.
I love it when he says my name. Her voice wraps around the individual
letters. I would love to close my eyes and ask her to say it again.
– Why didn't you just tell me? Instead of pushing me away without a word
of explanation? - He shakes his head disapprovingly.
I see in her eyes the pain that I probably caused her with my behavior.
I cover her hand with mine and intertwine our fingers on my chest.
-I'm so sorry, Ruby. I really thought it would be better this way.
“But it wasn't,” he whispers hoarsely. – You ignored me and gave me the
biggest basket in the history of mankind.
- I know that. Jesus, Ruby. I'm so sorry.
I close my eyes. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't forgive me. If
she will think that I have brought too much stress into her life.
I hold her hand, press it to my heart, which is pounding like crazy, and I
don't dare look at her.
“James,” he says. He wants to withdraw his hand. Even though I would
like to keep her at all costs, I know I have no right to do so. If she wants to
leave, I have to let her. But then I feel her fingers in my hair. He strokes them
gently, slowly.
I don't know how long we lie there, but I don't dare move for fear of ruining
everything. Having her so close is the most wonderful feeling in the world. I
would give anything to make it last. I don't know why it took me so long to
realize this.
"James," Ruby whispers after a long moment. He kisses my temple. – It's
okay. I forgive you.
I take a deep breath to apologize to her once again, but I fall silent as I
realize the meaning of her words. I open my eyes wide. Ruby pulls back a
little and looks at me firmly.
- What? – I ask in a hoarse voice.
– It's okay. I forgive you, he repeats slowly and strokes my chest.

– But that doesn't mean I will forget how you behaved. If you call me like that again…”
He shrugs. When I realize what she just said, what her shy smile means, I'm so relieved
that I feel dizzy. I hug her, pull her to me, and breathlessly whisper against her lips, "I
won't do it." I swear I won't.
And then I kiss her.

I want to show her how grateful I am to her, share the feelings that fill me. Ruby
moves on top of me. I hold her tight. He kisses me deeply, then runs his tongue across
my still sore lower lip. I purr throatily and suck her tongue, to which she responds with a
loud sigh.
I have no idea how we got here, but right now I feel like I'm flying into the air rather
than falling into the abyss. Ruby forgave me. She has forgiven me and wants to stay in
my life.
The next moment he breaks away from me and starts unbuttoning my shirt.
- What are you doing? – I ask hoarsely.
– I'm undressing you.
He doesn't stop until the last button is unbuttoned and he has free access to my
chest. He bites his lower lip and touches my belly, at first timidly, then more boldly.
When I see the way he looks at my body, I thank myself for the extra hours at the gym
last month.
Ruby leans down and trails her lips down my stomach. I take a deep breath. And then
I feel her tongue at the level of my navel and I rise on my elbows.
She peeks at me through the curtain of her eyelashes.
– I guess it's the same as all couples who reconcile.

– Are we a couple?
– Well, you definitely won't be my fuckbuddy, whatever.
-Fuckbuddy ? – I repeat with a smile.
- You know what I mean.
– How is it possible that a person with such a high IQ can use the word fuckbuddy
completely seriously? – I mutter, amused, for
which gives me a painful punch in the stomach. – I preferred it when you touched me there with
your tongue.
Another blow, and then he comes back at me until our faces are only centimeters
apart.
– Do you really think you can afford to be impertinent anymore?
I'm afraid my heart will burst my chest at any moment. Ruby straddles me, her
whole body pressed against me, the buttons of her blouse scratching my skin. My
penis presses almost painfully against the fabric of my pants.
I close my eyes as Ruby moves her hips.
I want her.
I want her like I've never wanted anything before.
“I'll be whoever you want,” I say hoarsely, but very sincerely. – Boyfriend,
fuckbuddy, whatever you want. – It doesn't matter what my parents say, what the
future holds. Ruby is right: we have the here and now. I can no longer deny how I
feel about her.
- Really? – he asks in a whisper.
“Really,” I say and run my hands up her thighs. A twinkle appears in her moss-
green eyes. When I brush my thumbs against her inner thighs, she inhales loudly.
A triumphant smile appears on my lips. She's so damn sensitive. I repeat the
movement, this time even higher. Ruby closes her eyes. She looks wonderful with
disheveled hair, long, dark eyelashes and a sweet blouse with a crooked bow at the
neck. I would love to pull the black ribbon, but I'm afraid. If we're really going to
move forward, she should take the first step.
As if she was reading my mind, Ruby leans in until her mouth is next to my ear.
He outlines them with his lips and gently grabs the petal with his teeth. I react
quickly, my skin is covered with goosebumps, my head is spinning with excitement.
He continues to tease me, kissing my neck, kissing my collarbone.
I curse silently.
Ruby breaks away from me and looks at me with a serious face.
-You don't like it?
– Yes, very much.
I wanted to give her time, not rush her, I wanted to be patient and act like a
gentleman, but... I can't do it anymore. I want to show her what
he's going with me. I cup her face with trembling hands and press my lips to hers. Ruby
gasps in surprise as I roll over and cover her with me. I press my swollen member against
her, she gasps into my mouth and digs her fingers into my back. Now that she's like this,
I can't wait to see what happens when I enter her.
The next moment he slides my shirt off my shoulders and throws it on the floor next to
the bed. He runs his hands down my back, timidly at first, running his nails along my spine
until he reaches my buttocks. He tightens his hands on them.
“Jesus, Ruby,” I mutter.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time,” she replies and slaps me. I laugh breathlessly
with my mouth on her neck and bite her lightly as punishment.
In response, she wraps her legs around my hips and presses herself against me. Jesus
Mary, wants to finish me off.
I break away from her for a moment and grab a piece of ribbon with two fingers.
I look into her eyes as I lightly tug on it. Ruby swallows hard and watches, hypnotized, as
I unbutton each button.
She sits up so I can slide the fabric off her shoulders. I don't know where I throw her
blouse because all I see is Ruby. The light from the lantern outside the window casts
bright streaks on her skin. I look at the beige bra. Ruby has a wonderful body, soft and
curvy, and big breasts.
At school, you can see from her that she always knows what she wants. In bed
apparently it's the same and just thinking about it makes my throat dry.
I lean down and cover her neck with kisses. I touch her breasts and stroke them, to
which she reacts with a surprised sigh. I would love to strip her naked and bury myself in
her, but I'm holding back.
This is our first time. I want both of us to be together many years later
they remembered it as something beautiful.
And that's why I slowly caress her breasts. I kiss every millimeter of skin, lick it, bite it,
touch it. I go lower and lower, I touch her ribs with my teeth. The quiet sighs and tension
in her body are like an atlas, like a map. When I'm at waist height, he tangles his fingers
in my hair. I look up at her questioningly. She is in charge here, only she will decide what
will happen next.
“Don't stop,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.
It is enough for me.
First I take off her shoes, then her socks. Ruby looks at me with a faint smile. I
finally unbutton her pants and help her take them off. She lies in front of me in her
underwear and I hold my breath. I don't know what I did to deserve this. I have no idea.
Maybe this is the karma everyone talks so much about. Basically: everything in your
life sucks? For this you will get the most fantastic girl in the world. She'll forgive you,
she'll care about you, and she'll let you undress even though you don't deserve it.
Or something like that.

No matter why Ruby lets me do this, I'll prove to her
how real my feelings are for her.
I lean down and kiss her legs. Now there is no time to think, only to feel. I move my
hands to her thighs. I gently stroke her sides and belly until I stop at the elastic band
of her panties. He breathes faster and harder. Do not stop. Her words are still in my
ears, so I don't stop.
I slip my fingers under the fabric of my panties and pull them off. She lies naked in front of me.
I am unable to think logically. I don't hesitate for a moment, I cover her body with a trail
of kisses. When I'm between her thighs, she curses loudly. He tangles his fingers in
my hair, and for a moment I don't know if he wants to pull me closer or push me away.
I move my lips and kiss her gently. When I stick out my tongue, she tenses, so I put
my hand on her stomach to keep her in place. I enjoy the feel of her fingers on my
head as she wordlessly tells me where she wants me and with what intensity.
As he breathes faster and instinctively tenses his leg muscles, I slide my finger into
the hot wetness. I suck and lick and at the same time move my finger slowly,
rhythmically.
Soon he's screaming my name and arching his back.
I caress her until she stops shaking. She's out of breath when I finally break away
from her and move up on the bed to look at her.
Messy hair and pink cheeks. He stares at the ceiling and it takes several minutes for
his breathing to return to normal.
Then he throws his arms around my neck and smiles.
“We definitely have to do it again sometime,” he says.
I return her smile and decide that I will spend all of it soon
night with his head between her thighs.
– At least there's some use for that dirty tongue of yours.
I shake my head slightly and kiss her. Ruby doesn't let it be just a fleeting kiss. On
the contrary, he pulls me towards him and slides his tongue into my mouth. Her
passion surprises me. Apparently she's turned on by the taste of herself on my lips. He
puts his leg around my hips and pulls me closer to him.
A hot shiver runs through me, I gasp into her mouth, thrust my hips forward, and she
gasps softly. The next moment I feel her hands on my belt. He moves clumsily,
frantically. I fucking love seeing her like this.
When she finally unzips my pants, I want to take them down, but I stop her.
“Wait a minute,” I mutter and take my wallet out of my back pocket. I open it and
take out a condom. I put it next to the pillow and only then take off my pants and socks.
I throw everything behind the bed and then go back to her. I slide my hand under her
back and undo her bra. He helps me take it off until there is no longer any material
between us.
She sighs softly as I cup her breasts and start stroking them. I love how he responds
to my touch. I've never been with a girl like her before. Her reactions inflame me to
such an extent that I can hardly control myself.
When he grabs the fabric of my boxers and presses them against my buttocks, I'm
afraid I'll go crazy.
– How do you want me? – I ask hoarsely and kiss her chin.
I brush her hair away from her forehead and trace her jawline with my fingertips. With
every gesture I want to show her how much she means to me.
“That's right,” he replies in a whisper and tenderly strokes my back.
I nod and reach for the plastic wrap.
With trembling hands, I put on the condom. Ruby leans on her elbows and watches
my every move, eyes shining with curiosity.
I instinctively reach for her hand and place it on my member. It trembles in her hand.
Ruby looks at me with dark eyes. I slowly move our hands, clench them. He swallows
hard. I let go of her hand. She moves it herself, at first timidly, then more and more
boldly. I take a deep breath as he tightens it in place.
“Ruby…” I whisper.
The next moment he lets me go and lies down on the bed.
Her dark hair spreads like a fan on the white pillows, her green eyes sparkle like in
a dream as I cover her with me and settle her down.
between her legs. Everything seems to happen by itself, I enter her slowly and hold
my breath as she sighs beneath me. It's incredibly tight, but wet enough that I work up
the courage to push in further.
I touch her cheek, brush my thumb over her lower lip, and then kiss her, gently,
lovingly, while I slowly move inside her, moving in and out a millimeter, going a little
deeper with each thrust. Just then, Ruby shifts her hips slightly and suddenly the
resistance disappears. I enter her completely. We both sigh loudly. There's a thought
running through my head, but my emotions prevent it from coming out and I can't
concentrate. There is no room for anything in my head, it is filled with Ruby, her taste,
her heat surrounding me. Another thrust and Ruby moans breathlessly. She puts her
leg around my hips and I tighten my hands on her thighs.
It's so wonderful that I wish we had done it sooner instead of running away from
ourselves. I dig my fingers into her skin, holding her while I try to find a steady rhythm.
Her hands are everywhere, she lifts herself and kisses my chest, meeting each thrust
as if she couldn't get enough of me. I feel exactly the same. She's so gorgeous that I
can barely keep my composure.
“You're shaking,” he whispers and strokes my back. He grabs my shoulders

as I cup the skin behind her ear with my lips and enter her once again.
– Because I'm trying to control myself.
– And this is coming from the same James Beaufort who breaks the bed during sex
water? – he asks breathlessly.
I bite her neck.
– I told you it wasn't a waterbed.
She doesn't pay attention to my words, she wraps her other leg around me and
moves her hips so that I enter her even deeper. She sighs and my body, as it were,
obeys her unspoken command. I wrap my arms around her neck to keep her head
from hitting the bed frame, and then I enter her harder and faster than before. Ruby
digs her fingers into my back, making it harder and harder for me to control myself
with each gesture. Soon the headboard of the bed is banging hard against the wall,
and I can't control the sounds coming from my chest. Ruby breathes faster and faster,
digging her nails into my back. She closed her eyes, but I need to know what's
happening to her.
“Look at me,” I plead hoarsely.

He fulfills my request and our eyes meet. The bond is as strong as
ever. I can't take my eyes off her. Ruby seems to feel the same way. We
move evenly, as if we were made for this.
I thrust into her again and again until I hit her sweet spot and Ruby moans
loudly. He tightens his muscles on me and suddenly I can't stand it. The
bed creaks too softly to drown out us as we climax together. My world
explodes, leaving a universe of stars and lights and a place just for her.
For Ruby.
OceanofPDF.com
30
Ruby
– You could have told me. - James runs his finger down my spine, sending a
shiver down my spine.
- But why?
I lie with my head on his chest and deep in thought, I stroke his hard belly. Our
legs are intertwined, we are still naked, even though James has covered us with a
blanket.
“I would be more gentle,” he whispers, his lips in my hair.
– I was afraid it would scare you and you would run away.
– Nonsense. I would just be more careful.
I tilt my head back and look at his face. I see a ripple
between the eyebrows. He seems really concerned.
– Or maybe I didn't want to be gentle and careful at all.
The corners of his mouth turn up a little and his eyes darken
a flash that disappears as quickly as it appeared.
– Maybe I would also think about a better place. You shouldn't lose
virginity in a dormitory on a squeaky bed.
Outraged, I rise up violently. For a split second his gaze
it stops at my breasts but immediately returns to my face.
- I'm listening? If I have to lose my virginity anywhere, it will be in Oxford.
He shakes his head with a laugh. The next moment he grabs my elbows and
pulls me forward until I fall on top of him. He embraces me and presses me tightly
against his warm body.
– Ruby Bell, you're crazy.
Maybe a little, I admit in my mind.
But it all feels right. James and I... Maybe things will never be easy for us,
maybe his father will still do his best
power to disappear from his son's life, but I am willing to fight for James. We
have something special in common. From today I know it for sure, and the
way he looks at me and touches me shows that he feels the same. We'll make it.
I've never been so sure of anything before.
– How was it for you? – I ask, not looking him in the eye.
- I'm listening?
I concentrate on the pattern I'm tracing on his stomach with my fingers.
– Well… What was your first time like?
He exhales loudly.
– Do you really want to know?
But now I look at him.
- Of course.
- All right. I was fourteen, I was drunk and I screwed it all up.
- Fourteen years? – Oh Jesus, so he's been practicing for four years now. I prefer not to
wondering how many girls he had to sleep with to be this good.
“I made a bet with Wren, so I did it. It lasted about two hours
minutes and I didn't really like it.
– So you're not qualified to give advice on losing
virginity – I note quietly.
– I hope your story gets better, if ever
you want to tell it.
I kiss his chest.
- Definitely. It was wonderful.
I don't understand how it's possible, but being in bed with him seems like
the most normal thing in the world. As if this is where I belong.
I haven't felt like this in weeks. Even the slightly painful throbbing between
my legs doesn't bother me. I was serious: it was wonderful.
I can't imagine a better time or place.
“You seemed so broken this afternoon,” James says suddenly
and brutally pulls me to the ground.
“I didn't do well at the interview,” I mutter.
He presses his lips to my hair again, traveling all the way to my forehead.
– The presenters are idiots. I bet their job was to confuse the candidates.
I'm sure you did great. – He says it with such emotion that I almost believed
him. But only almost.
- Certainly not. I answered one question completely wrong.

I could clearly see that they didn't like what I said.
– How so?
I'm talking about this morning's disaster.
– Like I said, I'm sure that's what they had in mind. Don't worry about it. If you don't get
into Oxford, no one will. – He seems more convinced than me, but I'm happy to talk to
anyone about it. Especially since James knows how much Oxford means to me.
– Thanks for saying that.

In response, he kisses me on the lips. It costs me a lot not to be in it
get lost, but at some point I break away from him and ask: - How did it go for
you?
He mutters something unintelligible, and suddenly the expression I already know
appears on his face, which returns whenever the topic of Beaufort, Oxford, his future
comes up in conversation. It's an expression of hopelessness. And I'm bursting
heart.
– Talk to me – I ask in a whisper.

James returns my gaze. Finally, he nods and takes a deep breath.
– I realize that for you Oxford is the most important thing in the world, so it will be
difficult for me to talk about it with you, but… I think it's one big circus and a lot of ado
about nothing.
I try not to worry about it. Not everyone has the same goals and dreams. James'
feelings are not about me, but about him.
– During the job interview… I didn't care. It was all like a black and white movie that
you watch in fast forward and I'm the only one staying in the same place.
– If you really don't want to study here or work in the company

parents, what exactly would you like to do?
He shakes his head. I see panic in his eyes.
– Don't ask about it, please.
- Why not? I stroke his cheek and feel the rough skin beneath my fingers. And a hint of
facial hair, which he will probably shave off in the morning. It's a pity, because he would
look fantastic with stubble.
– You were right when you said that I don't know what I want from life.
I don't think about what I could do, because if I allow myself to dream, it will only
get worse.
He still believes that he cannot decide about his own life. But maybe he really
can't, with such a legacy awaiting him and such a huge burden already resting
on his shoulders?
“Dreams are important, James,” I whisper.
– Then you are my dream.
At first it takes my breath away, but then it does
I realize this is just a brazen attempt to change the subject.
– I don't do things like that.
He smiles crookedly.
– True, it would be too easy.
- What interests you? What turns you on?
He thinks hard. I feel a sudden tension in him, so I kiss him,
to let him know that it's okay and that he doesn't have to rush.
“Sports,” he finally begins, timidly and hesitantly. – Literature. Piece.
Good music. And still good food. Good, spicy Asian food, to be specific. I would
like to go to Bangkok and taste everything they serve at street stalls.
I smile, snuggling into him.

– Like fried locusts?
- Just like that. – He relaxes slowly.
– But it's all within your reach. These are things you do on vacation, not seen
as your life goal. – I gently stroke his belly. – But this is a start. Everything will
be possible when you stop being an obstacle to yourself.
James doesn't answer.

I have an idea. I jump out of bed, grab my underwear from the floor, and
quickly put on my panties and bra. I see James' gray shirt on the chair. I put it
on and walk to the desk.
- What are you doing? – he asks behind my back. I reach for his black
notebook with a bold "B" and a pen before turning to him. He also put on boxers.
– We'll make a list – I say and with the notebook under my arm I return to the bed.
James looks at me carefully. I show him the seat next to me. The bed is still
warm, the scent of James surrounds me. Slowly, with distrust in his eyes, the boy
approaches me. The mattress sags under his weight as he finally sits down.
I lean over him and turn on the bedside lamp on the small table.
Only then do I open the notebook.
– Whenever I feel bad, I make a list. Even as a child, it helped me stay motivated
and clear-headed. Although it wasn't always easy - I confess. – I search for
appropriate quotes, everything I would like to do someday, what I would like to
change in the world and so on.
I usually try to make the list more colorful, but today this will have to be enough.
The distrust disappears from his eyes, and instead he smiles faintly.
– So you want to make me a list?
I nod.
– Maybe it will motivate you too.
I stare at the blank paper and finally nod my head in agreement.
- All right.
With a smile, I grab a pen and write in the center of the paper in decorative
letters with swirls: "To do." I underline the title boldly. And I enter the first point.
1. Go to Bangkok.
I look at James.
- What's next?
He scratches his chin thoughtfully.
“It could really be anything,” I remind him.
“I'd like to still play lacrosse,” he finally admits quietly.
“Oh yeah,” I mutter and write down the second item on my list:
2. Play lacrosse.
Next to him we draw a tiny lacrosse stick and James's T-shirt with the number
seventeen on it. When I look up at him again, there's so much warmth in his eyes
that it makes me feel hot.
- What's next?
And he has to think again. I don't want to rush him, so I wait patiently.
“I'd like to read more,” he says finally. – But something different than usual.
– What do you usually read?

– Books about business that my father gives me. Biographies of famous
entrepreneurs. – He frowns. – But there are so many other things.
For example, someday I would like to read some manga. – He smiles significantly.
“I have a reading list available at any time,” I reply and return his smile.
– I would devour them all at once.

With a smile, I lean over the paper and write down point three.
3. Read more and more diverse books.
- What else?
James swallows hard.
– Of course, professionally I would like to do something that will give me fulfillment.
I don't know yet what it could be, if it's even possible, but... - He shrugs. He looks like
he wants to say something more, but he doesn't let himself. I put the pen down and
stroke his cheek.
I gently run my thumb over his warm skin and lean in to kiss him. He closes his eyes
and sighs quietly.
“Nothing is impossible, James,” I whisper and return to my seat. I reach out
I get a pen and write down point four.
4. Find professional fulfillment.
I admire my work.
“We need to add one more point,” James says suddenly and reaches for his notebook.
He takes the pen out of my hand and writes something on the paper. - Already. – After
a while, he puts the notebook aside. I move closer until I touch his bare thigh with mine
and read what he wrote.
5. Ruby.
I hold my breath and glance between the list and him.
“When you're with me, I feel like I can do anything,” he confesses hoarsely. – That's
why you can't be left out of the list of everything that makes me happy.
I don't know what to say, so I sit on his lap and throw my arms around his neck. He
holds my head and kisses me. We fall back on the pillows together, connected at the
lips, with his dreams in hand.
OceanofPDF.com
31
James
Definitely the most beautiful night of my life unfortunately has to end sometime. We tried to
stay awake, but around four o'clock tiredness took over. Just three hours later, we woke up
in a panic because we were afraid we had overslept and Ruby's parents were already
waiting at the door. Luckily it was a false alarm, but we had no more
time.
It's damn hard to let her go. I don't want to be separated from her, I keep pulling her to
me and kissing her, as if we wouldn't see each other for at least a month. But I'll see you at
school tomorrow at the latest, or maybe even tonight, if I manage to get out of the house.
Chances are, actually: my father takes it as an insult that I was invited to Saint Hilda's,
and he even suggested that Lydia and I switch places because she, unlike me, was invited
to Balliol. The words "disgrace" and "loser" ring in my ears all the time. I guess he's not
really interested in how I did.
After breakfast, Percy comes to pick me up. He takes the suitcase from my hand and
puts it in the trunk of the Rolls-Royce before he gets back into the driver's seat and we go
to pick up my sister. There's a window between us, the loudspeaker is turned off, and he
obviously doesn't want to talk either. Very good, thanks to this I can go through the Ruby
list again. I have no idea how real what we wrote on it is, but at least it will make me
remember last night forever.
I put on the gray shirt Ruby wore that morning, and her scent surrounds me. I can still
feel its taste on my tongue. My body is covered with goosebumps when I remember her
saying my name.
I would like to do it all again. Preferably immediately.
When Lydia gets into the car, she immediately notices that something has happened.
He looks at me inquisitively through narrowed eyes. And then a knowing smirk
appears on her face.
– You look like you had a wonderful night. – He knows me too well.
I carefully fold the list and put it back in my wallet. Will replace
that note that I tore up and threw away in the dormitory.
– Can I get the details?
He surprises me with this question. Although she recently told me about herself
and Sutton, we don't usually talk about our love lives.
I look at her suspiciously.
– Since when have you been interested in how I spend my nights?
Shrugs.
"Since you've been shagging Ruby."
The word "banging" seems absolutely inappropriate when it comes to Ruby
and me.
– First of all, what made you think that I spent the night with Ruby? And
secondly, I thought you hated her.
Lydia rolls her eyes.
– First of all, I'm not stupid. Secondly, I like her if you like her.
It's simple.
- And very well. Because I think that in the future you will see her not only at
school.
Lydia opens her mouth in shock.
– Is something serious between you two?
I can't stop smiling. The next second, Lydia
he pokes me in the shoulder.
- I don't believe! James!
– What again?
“Father will go crazy when he finds out,” he says quietly, shaking his head.
He keeps his hand on my shoulder the whole time. He squeezes them lightly. –
But you seem very happy. I'm happy for you.
I didn't know this would happen. I didn't know what it felt like to be in love. I
didn't think that just thinking about Ruby would make my heart beat faster. I'd love
to tell Percy to go straight to her, because I'm afraid I won't be able to bear it one
more second without her.
"What exactly bit Percy?" – Lydia seems to read mine

thoughts. He says it more quietly and nods to the chauffeur's seat.
- I have no idea.
“He didn't even ask me how I did,” he notes.
“You can tell me about it,” I suggest, but she just grimaces.
– You're weird when you fall in love.

I respond with a grimace.
The rest of the journey passes in friendly silence. Lydia checks something on her
phone while I stare out the window and think about last night. When I arrive, I get
out, walk around the car, and go to the trunk to help Percy with his suitcases. He
stops me with a gesture and looks very seriously.
– Please go inside, Mr. Beaufort. – The last time I heard this tone was when, as a
seven-year-old, I spilled a Coke on the brand new upholstery in the back seat.
He looks between us, then swallows hard and leans over the suitcases. Lydia and I
exchange surprised glances and climb the stairs to the door.
– What bit him? – Lydia is still whispering, even though Percy can no longer hear
us.
- I have no idea. Have you talked to your father since yesterday?
He shakes his head. I open the door and walk into the hall with her.
Lydia puts her purse on the small table by the door. At that moment, Mary, the maid,
appears. He turns rapidly pale at the sight of us. I want to say hello to her, but she
turns on her heel and quickly heads towards the living room.
Lydia and I exchange another look of surprise. Together we head to the living room.
The father is waiting by the fireplace. He has his back to us, but I can see that he
has a glass of light brown liquid in his hand, even though it's not even noon yet. The
fire in the fireplace crackles quietly. Mary mutters something and then walks away
quickly.
– Dad? – I say.
The father turns around. He has an inscrutable expression on his face, as always.
Still, I feel a bad feeling when I see the dark circles under his eyes.
– Sit down. – He points to a sofa upholstered in green velvet. Alone
he walks over to the armchair next to him.
I don't want to sit down, I want to know what the hell is going on. Lydia obeys
his command, while I remain standing in the living room doorway, looking at him.
The father raises the glass to his mouth and downs the last of the scotch in a gulp.
Then he puts it on a small table.
– Sit down, James. – It's an order, not a request.
But I can't move. The tension is too great.
Something had happened, I felt it, as soon as we entered the house.
– Where's mom? – Lydia asks. She keeps trying to sound happy, as if trying to
ease the tension between me and my father. And yet she probably already knows
that something is wrong.
– Your mother had a stroke.
The father leans back in his chair, puts his hands on the armrests, and crosses
his legs so that his ankle rests on his knee. He seems calm.
Unmoved. As always.
- What…? What? How so? – Lydia chokes out.
“Cordelia had a cerebral hemorrhage,” he repeats as if he had learned a lesson.
- Dead.
Lydia brings her hands to her mouth and begins to cry.
I feel like I'm disappearing. That my soul is separating from my body.
I observe the whole incident from a different perspective.
My father says something, but I only hear fragments of words. A broken blood vessel...
They arrived too late... Hospital... There was nothing that could be done.
I see his lips move, but the words are drowned out by Lydia's sobs. There is
one more sound. Rapid, nervous panting. Mine, I guess.
I press my hand to my chest and try to control it. Nothing of that.

I'm breathing faster and faster, and yet I'm still out of air. At this point, all the good
advice I've found on the internet about how to deal with panic attacks doesn't help.
My body goes into autopilot mode and I feel myself break out in an icy sweat.
Mom is dead.
Dead.
The father's expression does not change. Maybe it's just a bad joke. Punishment for
that I didn't get into Balliol.
- When? – I need to hold on to something, but I don't know how to get my hand
to grab something.
My father looks at me with inscrutable eyes.
- On Monday afternoon.
Heart. At any moment my chest will burst or burst. At first I don't realize what he
said, I'm so absorbed in taking air into my lungs. However, after a few breaths, I
fully understand the meaning of his words.
On Monday afternoon.
Today is
Wednesday. “Just to be clear,” I say in a trembling voice. – Mom had it
stroke two days ago and you're only telling us about it now?
I didn't need to ask this question. You had to go up to your sister and hug her.
We should cry together. But it all seems unreal to me. I still have the feeling that
this isn't really happening, that I'm meeting someone else who is temporarily in
control of my body, and I'm just observing it all. Helpless, totally lost.
The father hits his back against the back of the chair.
– I didn't want anything to distract you before the interview.
I don't really know what happens next. It was as if I had been struck by lightning.
The next moment I lunge at my father and punch him square in the face.
So hard that the chair falls backwards and we both fall to the ground. Lydia screams
at the top of her lungs. Something falls to the floor with a bang. My fist lands on my
father's face again. His nose is bleeding and a bone crunches suspiciously in my
hand. There is broken glass all around us. My hand throbs painfully, but I throw a
third punch anyway.
-James, stop it! – Lydia shouts.
Someone grabs my shoulders and pulls me away from my father. I'm fighting him like crazy
animal. I want my father to pay. For all.
Lydia helps him up. Blood is flowing from his nose and the corner of his mouth.
He touches his face with his fingertips and looks at the red stain, then at Percy,
who is still holding my arms.
"Please take him out of here until he calms down."
Percy turns me around and leads me down a long hallway. He hugs me so
tightly that I can't breathe. He pulls me into the hall, after
On the way, we bump into a chest of drawers and another thing breaks into pieces. Only
outside does he let me go. I turn on my heel and want to go home immediately.
"Mr. Beaufort, calm down," Percy says and grabs my shoulders.

I push his hand away and he stumbles back.
"Get out of my way, Percy."
“No,” he says firmly and digs his fingers into my jacket.
– He hid it from us. You hid it from us, I say. I push him away again. – My
mother is dead and you didn't tell me. – The words are as corrosive as acid and
suddenly everything burns: my mouth, my throat, my chest and my eyes. I can
no longer see clearly. – My mother is dead.
A dull pain instantly fills your body. Unbearable. I can't do it. I can't breathe all the time.
Let it end. Let this pain go away.
My hands shake so much that I let go of Percy's jacket.

The next moment I turn around and run towards the garage.
– Mr. Beaufort!
I wave him away. Percy runs after me to the garage.
I walk to my car, take the key from my pocket with shaking hands, and open the
driver's side door. I can see less and less, I feel like I'm going to faint at any
moment. Does not matter. I do not care.
I start the engine. Percy stands right in front of the hood. Does not matter. I press the gas
pedal. Percy jumps away at the last moment. I drive out of the garage with a screech of
tires, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
OceanofPDF.com
32
Ruby
The doorbell rings when it's my turn to pull out the wooden block during a game of Jenga.
I reflexively flinch, and it's enough to make the entire tower collapse. My parents and
Ember laugh at me and I curse under my breath.
“You're skipping the line,” my mother says, rubbing her hands happily. She's the best
of us and basically never loses.
After returning from Oxford, I told my relatives about the job interviews and organized
a mini slideshow, then we ate dinner and decided to spend the afternoon playing games
together. We were starting our third round of Jenga and I had already lost twice. I accept
defeat and get up. The others are playing and I go to the door.
My eyes widen when I see who is standing on the doorstep.

– Lydia?
She appears devastated, with red cheeks and swollen eyes. I am doing
I take a step towards her, but she stops me with a gesture.
– Is James here?
I shake my head in denial.
- NO. What happened? – I ask anxiously.
Lydia doesn't seem to hear me at all. He takes his phone out of his jacket pocket and
quickly dials a number. I walk outside in my socks and grab her arm. I look at her piercingly.
- What happened?
He just shakes his head.
– Cyril? It's me, he says suddenly. – Is James here?
When she hears his answer, a look of relief appears on her face.
- Thank God.
Cyril says something else that I can't hear, and Lydia's face turns dark again.
- All right. Not arrive.

Cyril is still talking. Lydia glances at me sideways.
- Yes. All right. In a minute.
He hangs up and goes to the car where Percy is waiting. He
he also has such a gloomy face that I have a very bad feeling.
“Lydia, please tell me what happened,” I repeat.
He stops, turns over his shoulder.
- I can't.
“Let me go with you,” I offer.
He opens his mouth and then closes it again.
– This probably isn't a good idea.
I gesture for her to wait, I run back home, put on my boots, take the coat and
scarf my dad made for me off the hanger, shout to my family that I have to leave
for a moment, and grab my keys from the hook by the door. I wrap a scarf around
my neck as I run. Lydia looks like she wants to stop me, but she doesn't have the
strength.
Without a word, he disappears in the car. I greet Percy, who gives me a small
nod, and then he, too, gets into the Rolls-Royce. Lydia takes the seat where
James usually sits. His eyes are glazed over, he nervously plays with the belt of
his red coat. I would love to hold her hand, but I lack the courage.
– My proposal is still valid. You know, if you want to talk.

Lydia cringes inwardly as if I've yelled at her. He looks up at me; I see tears in
her eyes. A bad feeling grows inside me with every passing moment. Something
must have happened if he's in such bad shape. Suddenly a terrible thought occurs
to me. I glance up. The red light isn't on, so Percy can't hear us. I lean towards her.
– Is the baby okay?

Lydia glances frantically forward, but she keeps separating herself from the driver
us a glass window. Only then does he look back at me.
“Yes,” he replies quietly. “But at home…” She pauses, as if to consider how
much she can reveal to me. – There was a fight.
Ever since James told me about his father, I've been imagining what he looks like
row at the Beauforts' house.
– Is James okay? – I can't hide the panic in my voice.
Lydia shrugs helplessly.

– Cyril says yes.
The next quarter of an hour drags on like an eternity. I dig my fingers into the coattails and try
not to go crazy with worry. I don't know what any of this means, and Lydia avoids my gaze and
just absently strokes her belly. Every now and then she blinks nervously, as if trying to hold back
tears. At one point her phone vibrates. When he reads the message, he purses his lips into a
thin line and then doesn't feel like talking at all.
As soon as we arrive at Cyril's, Lydia quickly gets out of the car and heads towards the
house. She stumbles on the frosty steps and at the last moment I manage to steady her
before she falls. Thank you silently.
Cyril is waiting on the threshold. He welcomes her with open arms.

– Please, please, who will honor my party with their presence.
He hugs her, but she stands still and endures it like a lifeless doll.
Cyril lets go of her only after a long while. Then he notices me too.
– You even have an accompanying person. Excellent. – He says it in such a tone that
you immediately know that he means exactly the opposite. Then he steps aside and we go
inside. You can already hear music coming from the rest of the house. Cyril keeps his arm
around Lydia. I wonder if he knows what happened or if he's just considerate enough not to
ask her about it.
We walk through the hall, the same one I was in last time. This time there are no guests
in the gallery, the party is apparently limited to the living room.
As soon as we enter, the music deafens us. I look around. NO

there are as many people here as before. Actually, the event is quite modest.
I don't know why, but this makes me even more anxious.
Several people I don't know are dancing in their underwear in the middle of the room. Alistair
sits on the couch and makes out with a tattooed powerful guy. A little further, at the bar,
Kesh is standing, watching them with narrowed eyes and downing the contents of his glass
in one gulp.
I feel a tickle on the back of my neck... And then I see James. He's sitting on the couch
near the pool. I tense up when I look at him. He seems to be in total disarray. He has
disheveled hair, rolled up shirt sleeves, the same one
that I wore last night. I see some red spots on it. My heart leaps into my throat.
I want to go to him, but then I see him leaning down. He hovers over the table,
plugs one nostril with his finger and inhales white powder with the other.
My mouth opens in surprise. He probably doesn't...
A blonde woman who looks familiar to me gets out of the pool and walks towards
him. He summons it with a bent finger. James stands up, tilts his head back. The girl
overcomes the last meters separating them and stands right in front of him. She
raises her hands and starts unbuttoning his shirt. I recognize her now. The girl
groping my boyfriend is Elaine Ellington. A cold chill runs through me, something
painfully tightens in my stomach.
I stand there transfixed.
– Since when has he been like this? – Lydia asks Cyril.
- Since noon.
The ringing in their ears drowns out their words. Elaine slides James' shirt off his
shoulders and it falls to the ground. Now the girl starts working on the belt on his
pants.
That's too much.
Right now my rage is greater than my fear of water.
Just a few steps will take me to them.
– What the hell are you doing? – I hiss.
James turns his head towards me, but he's not looking at me, just through me.
He's a complete stranger. The face is made of stone, the pupils are so dilated
that they cover almost the entire iris and the turquoise glow is virtually invisible.
He is deadly pale, his eyes are red.
This is not my James. He's the guy he was a few months ago, the bastard who
offered money to everyone, who got drunk with his friends every night and hit up
more girls. He's the type who doesn't feel anything and doesn't care.
“James,” I whisper and grab his hand. It's icy.

For a second I see something in his gaze. It's dark and desperate, as if something
was eating him from the inside. He breathes loudly, closes his eyes for a moment...
And when he opens them again, that glint is gone.
"You have nothing to look for here, Ruby."
- But me…
I haven't even finished speaking before she turns on her heel and jumps into the
pool. I flinch when I hear a loud splash. Drops of water fall on my face. I instinctively
take a step back. Elaine and a few other people in their underwear follow suit. Wren
is also among them. He comes to the surface screaming and continues splashing on
James. He reacts with laughter.
This all seems incredibly false to me. I would like to talk to James, but it is
impossible for various reasons. I'm too afraid of the water to get any closer, and I
don't believe any of what I'm saying will reach him in his state. James is absent. As
if the world existed next to him and he was carried away in a daze.
Elaine walks up to him. James floats on his back until he reaches

walls. The girl follows him laughing.
My heart is pounding like crazy. I don't understand what's going on here. It's all
like a bad dream. I can see the faint outline of her body under the water. She clings
to James, stands between his legs, leans down, whispers something in his ear.
They seem very close to each other. As if it wasn't their first time. With all my being,
I want to run there and tear her away from him, but I can't move.
James doesn't react when Elaine takes his face in her hands and kisses him.
Something breaks inside me. Shards of glass penetrate my chest, deeper and
deeper, until I can't breathe.
Suddenly someone puts a hand on my shoulder.
“This is the James Beaufort I know,” Cyril whispers in my ear.
I would like to answer: but not the James Beaufort I know.

You have no idea what he's really like. That's my boyfriend, you idiot.
But that's not true. If James Beaufort were my boyfriend, he wouldn't act this way.
If he were my boyfriend, he would come to me with his problem and confide in me,
instead of running away to friends, alcohol and drugs. If he were my boyfriend, he
wouldn't be sticking his tongue down another girl's throat right now.
I turn on my heel. I slip on the wet floor, but I manage not to fall. I run through the
living room as fast as I can. My footsteps echo through the spacious hall as I run to
the door. I have to get out of here, preferably now. Unfortunately, there is probably
no corner of this world where I would forget what I had just seen.
–Ruby! – Lydia shouts after me. I stop and look over my shoulder.
Seeing her despair makes me feel something like remorse.
“Lydia, I'm really sorry your situation is so fucking messed up,” I say, my
voice shaking. - But I can not. I can't do it, not after... - Not after what?
After I thought we had just gotten through everything? After we slept
together?
I won't say that.
“He needs you now,” Lydia whispers pleadingly. I
laugh bitterly and tilt my head back to look at the ceiling. The lobby is
painfully kitschy; gold as far as the eye can see, countless oil paintings,
expensive antique vases... And all of this suddenly loses its meaning to
me. I turn and head for the door. Lydia shouts something behind me, but I
can't hear her anymore.
When the heavy door closes behind me, I see it as a symbol.
For a moment, I really thought that James and I had a chance, that all
we had to do was really want it. But now something else is clear to me: I
will never be a part of his world.
Unfortunately, I only realized it now, when it is too late.
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Machine Translated by Google

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Original title: Save Me.

Editor: Karolina Wÿsowska

Copyright © 2018 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Cologne

First edition, Jaguar Publishing House, Warsaw 2019

First edition in e-book version

Electronic version: Marcin Kapusta

I was the city I never wanted to see, I was the hurricane

My life is divided into colors:

Anyone who looks into my notebook will immediately realize that my

The very thought gives me a thrill of excitement, because very soon we

I will really succeed and I will be able to study. And in Oxford.

- Not yet. They'll probably bring them back this afternoon.

“No,” I finally answer. – I'm sure he knows what counts in references.

Half past thirteen. Down to the minute.

My head's spinning. Besides, I'm absolutely convinced that the counter is

I would give a fortune for a shower. And clean clothes.

I expected this reaction. I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Alistair also snorts contemptuously. He doesn't like the prospect of welcoming me

“You're such a dick,” he says and sprays water at me.

He has tears in his eyes. Something catches my throat.

XXL fashions attracted so many readers that my younger sister became

– When will the new entry go online? - I'm asking.

Apparently it leaves a normal facial expression on my face

– I marked the waist and attached the collar – explains Ember.

We have to hurry if we want to catch the school bus, so I understand why he

– There must be a lot going on at school, right? – asks

and I cross my arms over my chest.

When I arrived at Maxton Hall, I had to choose extra-curricular activities and

– When we took on this task, we promised ourselves that we would be there

- You are an angel.

That's James Beaufort sitting next to me.

And he looks at me.

Not good, not good, very bad.

Only when I'm sure no one can hear us do I turn to him.

– I think I know what you want.

– Unfortunately, I have to interrupt you at this point, Robyn. – He takes a step

There's suddenly laughter around me - he said something funny. This

– I… of course. – He is chaotically looking for something in the briefcase into

– I just want to forget about it – I repeat again.

I have no idea what he means.

– I have no idea what you're talking about.

My cheeks are burning. I don't know if I should be more

Sparks fly from his eyes.

– Absolutely – I assure you. – So please, finally button up your shirt.

I press the door handle.

For the first time in my life I became seriously interested in something.

This will be the first game of my last year at school.

His eyes wander around the room.

“It's going to be a good match,” Cyril mutters at my side, too

Now I wonder how this is possible.

This girl saw my sister kissing the teacher.

Mortimer Beaufort has an affair with a twenty-year-old woman.

Maybe I should offer her more money. Or maybe he wants something

“Pass it on, Ellington, damn it!”

– Pass it! – roars Coach Freeman again.

“What the hell was that, Ellington!” – the coach growls.

– How do you know it's without reason?

Without a word, I raise the camera.

“I bet my mom bought it before my sister's birthday,” I reply.

– How old is your sister? Five?

I blink in surprise. I'm so shocked that I don't even feel stupid