Save Me - Mona Kasten EPUB

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Contents
title
To this book
dedication
Quote
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thanksgiving
The author
imprint
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Mona Kasten
SAVE ME
novel
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To this book
Money, luxury, parties, power - 17-year-old Ruby Bell couldn't care less about all of this.
Since she was seven years old, she has only had one wish: to study at the University of
Oxford. Now, shortly before graduation, her dream is within reach. All she has to do is
survive another year at Maxton Hall College - the most prestigious and expensive private
school in England. Since she won one of the coveted scholarships, she has tried to
be invisible and attract as little attention from her classmates as possible. She
especially stays away from James Beaufort, the secret leader of the college. He's too
arrogant, too rich, too attractive, and he embodies everything Ruby can't stand
about high society in England. Luckily, he has no idea Ruby even exists - at least until now.
Because when Ruby sees something she shouldn't have seen, her invisibility cloak
disappears from one moment to the next. Suddenly, James knows exactly who she
is and does everything he can to make sure she doesn't destroy his family's reputation.
Ruby is irritated - firstly because James suddenly seems to be everywhere she is, but
above all because she is finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the intense tension that
exists between them. James Beaufort is the last man she should feel attracted to. Ruby
knows that. And yet her heart soon leaves her with no other choice...
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For Lucie
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I was the city that I never wanted to see, I was

the storm that I never wanted to be.
GERSEY, ENDLESSNESS
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1
Ruby
My life is divided into colors:

Green – Important!
Turquoise – School
Pink – Maxton Hall Events Committee Purple –
Family Orange –
Nutrition and Sports Purple (take
Ember’s outfit pictures), Green (get new highlighters)
and turquoise (asking Mrs Wakefield about the material for the maths test)
I've already done today. It's by far the best feeling in the world to tick off an item on my to-
do list.
Sometimes I even write down tasks that I've long since completed just so I can cross
them out straight away - but then in an inconspicuous light gray so that I don't feel
quite as much like a cheater.
When you open my bullet journal, you can see at first glance that my everyday life
consists largely of green, turquoise and pink. But almost a week ago, at the start of the
new school year, a new color was used: Gold - Oxford. The first task I wrote down
with the new pen is: Pick up letters of recommendation
from Mr Sutton. I
run my finger over the metallic one shimmering letters.
Just one more year. A final year at Maxton Hall College. It seems almost unreal to me
that it's finally starting now. Maybe in three hundred and sixty-five days I'll be sitting in a
seminar on politics being taught by the smartest people in the world.
Everything inside me tingles with excitement when I think about the fact that it won't
be long before I know if my greatest wish will come true
Fulfillment is about whether I have really made it and can study in Oxford.
No one in my family has ever studied, and I know that

It is not a given that my parents did not just smile wearily when I first told them that I
wanted to study philosophy, political science and economics at Oxford. I was seven at
the time.
But even now - ten years later - nothing has changed, except that my goal is
within reach. It still seems like a dream that I even made it this far. I always find myself
afraid of suddenly waking up and realizing that I'm still going to my old school and not
Maxton Hall - one of the most prestigious private schools in England.
I take a look at the clock above the massive wooden door

The classroom is hanging. Three minutes left. I finished the homework we were
supposed to do last night, and now I have nothing else to do but wait for this lesson to
finally end. I tap my leg impatiently, for which I immediately receive a punch in the
side.
»Ouch,« I hiss and want to hit back, but Lin is faster and
dodges. Her reflexes are incredible. I suspect this is due to the fact that she has been
taking fencing lessons since elementary school.
After all, you have to be able to sting as quickly as a cobra.
“Stop being so fidgety,” she says without taking her eyes off the paper she has
written all over her. "You're making me nervous."
That makes me pause. Lin is never nervous. At least not like that
would admit or show it. But at that moment I actually see a hint of worry in her
eyes.
»I'm sorry. I can't help it.« Again I run the letters
with your fingers. Over the last two years, I have done everything I can to keep up with
my classmates. To get better. To prove to everyone that I'm legitimately going to Maxton
Hall. And now that the university application process is starting, the excitement is almost
killing me. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do anything about it. However, the fact
that Lin seems to feel the same way reassures me
something.
"Have the posters arrived yet?" asks Lin. She glances over at me and a strand
of her shoulder-length black hair falls into her face. She brushes it impatiently from her
forehead.
I shake my head. "Not yet. Probably this afternoon." "Okay. We'll distribute
them tomorrow after Bio, right?" I point to the corresponding
pink line in my bullet journal, and Lin nods happily. I look at the clock again. It's
only with difficulty that I can stop myself from rocking my legs again.
Instead, I start packing up my pens as inconspicuously as possible.

They all have to point in the same direction with the spring, so it takes me longer anyway.
However, I don't pack the golden pen, but ceremoniously stick it into the
narrow elastic band of my planner. I turn the cap so that it faces forward. This is the only
way it feels right.
When the bell finally rings, Lin shoots up from her chair faster,
than I thought was humanly possible. I look at her with raised eyebrows.
"Don't look like that," she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You
started it!" I don't say anything, but just put the
rest of my things away with a grin.
Lin and I are the first to leave the room. We walk quickly through the west wing
of Maxton Hall and turn left at the next junction.
In the first few weeks I was constantly in the huge building

I got lost and was late for class more than once. I was extremely embarrassed,
even though the teachers never tired of assuring me that most of the newcomers to
Maxton Hall felt the same way as me. The school is like a castle: It has five floors, a south,
west and east wing and three outbuildings in which subjects such as music and
computer science are taught. There are countless branches and paths where you can
get lost, and the fact that not every staircase automatically leads to every floor
can drive you to despair.
But while I was completely lost at the beginning, I know that

Buildings now like the back of my hand. I'm actually quite sure
sure I could find my way to Mr. Sutton's office even blindfolded.
»I would have had my letter of recommendation written by Sutton too

"We should have left it," Lin grumbles as we walk down the hallway.
Venetian masks adorn the high walls to our right - an art project from the last graduating
class. I've stopped in front of it a few times and admired the playful details.
»Why?« I ask, mentally noting that our caretaker

to say that he needs to get the masks to safety before the back-to-school party starts
here this weekend.
»Because he likes us since we attended the graduation ceremony together last year
organized and he knows how committed we are and how hard we work. He is also
young, ambitious and has just graduated from Oxford himself. God, I could really
slap myself for not coming up with the idea." I pat Lin's arm. 'Mrs Marr also studied at
Oxford.
I can also imagine that it is better received if you are recommended by someone who has
a bit more professional experience than Mr Sutton." She looks at me skeptically. "Do you
regret asking him?" I
just shrug my shoulders. Mr Sutton left at the end of last year.
During my 1st year, he overheard me telling me how much I wanted to go to Oxford and
offered to grill him on anything I wanted to know. Even though he was studying a
different subject to me, he was able to provide me with a whole lot of inside information,
all of which I eagerly absorbed and later carefully noted down in
my planner.
"No," I finally answer. "I'm sure he knows what the recommendation is about."
At the end of the hall, Lin has to turn left. We
agree to call each other again later and then quickly say goodbye.
I glance at my watch – five to half past one – and pick up the pace. My appointment
with Sutton is at half past one, and I don’t want to be late. I rush past the tall Renaissance
windows, which cast golden September light into the hall, and
I push my way through a group of students wearing the same royal blue school
uniform as me.
Nobody takes notice of me. That's how it works at Maxton Hall. Although
we all wear the same uniform – blue-green checked skirts for the
Girls, beige pants for the boys and tailored dark blue ones
Jackets for everyone –, It can't be overlooked that I'm not actually here
belongs. While my classmates come to school with expensive designer bags, the fabric
of my khaki green backpack is now so thin in some places that I expect it to tear every
day. I try not to be intimidated by this, nor by the fact that some people here act like they
own the school just because they come from wealthy families. I'm invisible to them, and
I'm doing everything I can to keep it that way. Just don't stand out. This has worked
well so far.
I push past the rest of the students with my eyes lowered

and turn right one last time. The third door on the left is Mr Sutton's. There's a heavy
wooden bench between his office and the one in front of it, and I let my gaze
wander from it to my watch and back again. Two more minutes.
I can't stand it a second longer. I resolutely delete mine

I straighten my skirt, adjust my jacket, and check that my tie is still in place. Then I go to
the door and knock.
No Answer.
With a sigh, I sit down on the bench and look in both directions of the hallway.
Maybe he'll quickly get something to eat.
Or tea. Or coffee. Which reminds me that I shouldn't have had any today. I was already
excited enough, but Mum had cooked too much and I didn't want to throw it away.
Now my hands are shaking slightly as I take another look at my watch.
It's half past one. To the minute.

I look down the hall again. No one in sight.
Maybe I didn't knock loud enough. Or – and the thought raises my pulse – I made a
mistake. Maybe our appointment is not today but tomorrow. I frantically tug at the zipper
of my backpack and pull out my planner. But when I look inside, everything is right. Correct
date, correct time.
Shaking my head, I close my backpack again. Normally

I'm not that crazy, but the thought that something could go wrong with my
application and that I might not be accepted into Oxford is driving me crazy.
I remind myself to come back down. I get up resolutely, go to the door and knock
again.
This time I hear a noise. It sounds like something has fallen to the ground
fallen. I carefully open the door and peer into the room.
My heart stops.
I heard correctly.
Mr Sutton is here.
But … he is not alone.
there is a woman sitting on his desk who is kissing him passionately.
He stands between her legs, both hands wrapped around her thighs. The next moment,
he grips her tighter and pulls her forward onto the edge of the table. She moans
softly into his mouth as their lips fuse together again, and buries her hands in
his dark hair.
I can't tell where one of them starts and the other ends.
I wish I could look away from them both. But I can't. Not when he slides his hands
further under her skirt. Not when I hear his heavy breathing and she sighs softly, "God,
Graham."
When I finally free myself from my state of shock, I can no longer remember how
my legs work. I stumble over the threshold and the door swings open so hard that it slams
against the wall. Mr Sutton and the woman jump apart. He snaps his head around and
sees me in the doorway. I open my mouth to apologize, but all I can manage is a dry
gasp.
"Ruby," says Mr Sutton breathlessly. His hair is completely disheveled, the

The top buttons of his shirt are open and his face is flushed. He seems strange to
me, not at all like my teacher.
I feel a murderous heat rushing into my cheeks. "I'm sorry. I thought we had a..." …
Then the young woman turns around and the rest of
the sentence stays in my mind.
throat. My mouth falls open and icy cold spreads through
my body. I stare at the girl. Her turquoise eyes are at least as wide open as my own.
She jerks her gaze away, lowers it to her expensive high heels, lets it wander over the
floor and then looks helplessly at Mr Sutton - Graham, as she just sighed.
I know her. In particular, I know her red-blonde, perfectly wavy ponytail that
always dangles in front of me in history.
In Mr Sutton's class.
The girl who just made out with my teacher is Lydia Beaufort.
I am getting dizzy. Besides, I'm sure everyone

to have to hand over at the moment.
I stare at the two of them and do everything I can to make out the last few minutes
from my head - but it's impossible. I know it, and Mr Sutton and Lydia know it too, I
can see that clearly from their shocked expressions. I take a step back, Mr
Sutton towards me with his hand outstretched. I stumble over the threshold again and
just manage to catch myself.
“Ruby…” he starts, but the ringing in my ears is getting louder.
I turn on my heel and start running. Behind me I can hear Mr Sutton say my
name again, much louder this time.
But I just keep running. And running.
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James
Someone is battering my skull with a jackhammer.

That's the first thing I realize as I slowly wake up. The
Second is the naked warm body lying half on top of mine.
I glance to the side, but all I see is a mane of honey-blonde hair. I don't
remember leaving Wren's party with anyone. To be honest, I don't remember leaving
the party at all. I close my eyes again and try to conjure up images from last night,
but all I remember are a few disjointed fragments of thought: me, drunk on a table. Wren's
loud laughter as I tumble down and land on the floor at his feet. Alistair's warning look as
I dance closely with his big sister, pressing myself tightly against her
backside.
Oh, fuck.
I carefully raise my hand and brush the girl's hair from her forehead.
Double fuck.
Alistair will kill me.
I sit up abruptly. A stabbing pain shoots through my head and for a moment
everything goes black. Next to me, Elaine grumbles something incomprehensible and
turns onto her other side. At the same time, I notice that the jackhammer is my cell
phone, which is lying on the nightstand and vibrating. I ignore it and search the floor for
my clothes. I find one shoe near the bed, the other right in front of the door
under my black pants and the matching belt. My shirt is lying over the brown leather
armchair. When I pull it on and try to close it, I notice that a few buttons are missing. I
groan and hope fervently that Alistair is no longer there. He doesn't need to see the
destroyed shirt,
nor the red scratches that Elaine left on my chest with her pink-painted fingernails.
My phone starts vibrating again. I glance at the screen and my father's name
flashes up at me. Great. It's almost two o'clock on a school day, my head feels like it's
going to explode, and I've almost certainly had sex with Elaine Ellington. The last thing
I need right now is my father's voice in my ear. I push him away, determined.
What I do need, however, is a shower. And fresh clothes. I sneak out of Wren's
guest room and close the door behind me as quietly as possible. On the way down, I
come across the remains of last night - a bra and several other items of clothing
hanging over the banister, cups, glasses and plates with leftover food are scattered
all over the foyer. The smell of alcohol and smoke is in the air. It's obvious that a party
was being held here just a few hours ago.
In the salon I find Cyril and Keshav. Cyril is sleeping on Wren's parents'
expensive white sofa, and Kesh is sitting in the armchair by the fireplace.
A girl has made herself comfortable on his lap, burying her hands in his long black hair
and kissing him passionately.
The two of them look like the party is about to start again. When Kesh breaks away from
her briefly and spots me, he throws his head back and laughs. I give him the middle
finger as I pass.
The opulent glass doors that lead into the Fitzgeralds' garden are wide open. I step
outside and have to squint. The sunlight isn't particularly bright, but it still feels like a
stab right in my temple. I look around carefully. It doesn't look any better out here
than inside the house. Quite the opposite.
I find Wren and Alistair on the loungers by the pool. They have their
Arms folded behind my head, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. I hesitate for just
a moment, then stroll over to them.
“Beaufort,” Wren says happily, pushing his glasses up so they rest on his frizzy
black hair. He's grinning broadly, but I can still see how pale his dark brown skin looks.
He must have quite the hangover, just like me. “Had a nice night?”
"I can't really remember," I answer, daring to glance in Alistair's direction.

"Fuck you, Beaufort," he says without looking at me. His hair shimmers gold in
the midday sun. "I told you to keep your hands off my sister." I expected this reaction.
Unfazed, I raise an eyebrow. "I didn't force her into
my bed. Don't act like she can't decide for herself who she wants to have sex with."
Alistair grimaces in pain and makes an incomprehensible hum.
I hope that he will get his act together and not make this matter
will add something, after all I can't undo it anymore.
And I don't really feel like justifying myself to my friends. I have to do that often
enough at home.
“Woe betide you, you break her heart,” Alistair says after a while, looking at me
through the reflective lenses of his aviator sunglasses. Although I can't see his eyes, I
know that his look is not angry, but rather resigned.
“Elaine has known James since she was five,” Wren interjects. »She knows exactly
what she can expect from him.«
Wren is right. Elaine and I both knew what we were getting into yesterday. And
even though I can't remember much of it, I can still hear her breathless voice clearly: This
will only happen once, James. Just once.
Alistair doesn't want to admit it, but his sister is no more a child of sadness
than I am.
"If your parents find out, they'll immediately announce your engagement,"
Wren adds after a while, amused.
I twist the corners of my mouth sullenly. My parents have been here for a long time
I've been keen on getting engaged to Elaine Ellington for years - or any other
daughter of a wealthy family with a huge inheritance.
But at eighteen, I have much better things to do than waste a single thought on what
or who will await me when I graduate from school.
Alistair also snorts contemptuously. He doesn't seem impressed either

to be excited about the idea of soon being able to welcome me as a new member of
his family. I press my hand to my chest, pretending to be offended. "It almost sounds
like you don't want me to be your brother-in-law."
Now he pushes his glasses up into his wavy hair and glares at me
with dark eyes. Slowly, like a predator, he gets up from the couch. Although he has a
slim figure, I know how strong and fast he can be. I have experienced this often enough in
training.
The look he gives me lets me guess what he's planning.
"I'm warning you, Alistair," I growl and take a step back.
It happens faster than I can blink. Suddenly he is standing right in front of me.
“I warned you too,” he replies. “Unfortunately you weren’t interested.”
The next moment he gave me a sharp shove in the chest.

I stumble backwards, straight into the pool. The impact knocks the air out of my lungs, and
for a moment I don't know which way is up and which way is down. The water rushes in
my ears, and the pounding headache seems much worse underwater.
However, I don't show up right away. I let my body go limp and remain in the same
position, face down. I stare at the tiles of the pool, which I can only see in a blur from here,
and count the seconds in my head. I close my eyes for a moment. It's almost
peacefully quiet. After half a minute, I start to run out of breath and the pressure on my
chest increases. I release one last dramatic bubble of air, keep waiting, and then
Alistair jumps into the pool and grabs me. He drags me to the surface with him, and
when I open my eyes and see his shocked look, I sputter and gasp at the same time.
…
“Beaufort!” he screams in disbelief and throws himself at me. His fist lands in my side
- damn, his punches are trying hard to put me in a headlock. Because –, and him
he's shorter than me, it doesn't work out the way he hoped. We wrestle for a moment,
then I get hold of him. I pick him up with ease and throw him as far away from me as
possible. Wren's laughter reaches my ears as Alistair goes under with a loud splash.
When he reappears, he stares at me so angrily for a moment that I snort again.
Alistair, like all the Ellingtons, has a total angelic face. Even if he wants to look threatening
- his light brown ones
Eyes paired with his blonde curls and his damn perfect facial
features make this simply impossible.
"You're a wanker of the worst kind," he says and injects me
A rush of water.
I wipe my face with my hand. "Sorry, man." "It's OK," he replies,
but continues to splash me with water. I spread my arms and let it
happen. Eventually he stops, and when I look at him, he just shakes his head
and laughs.
Then I know that everything is fine between us.
“James?” comes a familiar voice.
I whirl around. My twin sister stands at the edge of the pool and blocks the sun. She
wasn't at the party yesterday, and for a moment I think she's going to give me hell for
skipping class with the boys today. But then I really look and I feel ice cold: her
shoulders are slack, her arms hang weakly next to her body. Avoiding our gaze, she
stares at her feet.
As fast as I can, I swim to her and get out of the pool.

It doesn't matter how wet I am, I grab her upper arms and force her to
raise her head and look at me. My stomach does a somersault.
Lydia's face is red and swollen. She must have been crying.
"What's wrong?" I ask, holding her arms a little tighter.
She wants to turn her head away, but I won't let her. I cup her chin so she
can't avoid my gaze.
Tears shimmer in her eyes. My throat goes dry.
"James," she whispers hoarsely. "I screwed up."
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Ruby
“It’s perfect here,” says Ember, positioning herself between the gorse and the apple tree.
There are apples scattered all over our little garden that we still have to collect.
But even though our parents have been pestering us for days, picking purple apples
isn't scheduled until Thursday in my calendar.
I already know that the moment Ember and I...

baskets into the house, there will be an argument between Mum and Dad about who
gets the bigger share. Like every year, Mum plans to bake cakes and dumplings
that she can put out in the bakery for people to try, while Dad wants to make what feels
like hundreds of jams in the most adventurous flavors. Unfortunately, unlike Mum, he has
no one to give them to to try at the Mexican restaurant where he works. This means that
Ember and I will probably have to be the guinea pigs again, which can be great in the case
of a new tortilla recipe - but not at all in the case of apple jam with cardamom and
chilli.
“What do you mean?”

Ember stands in front of me in a practiced pose. I'm always surprised at
how well she can do it. Her posture is relaxed and she shakes her head briefly so that
the curls of her long light brown hair fall a little more wildly. When she smiles, her
green eyes literally sparkle, and I wonder how it is that she looks so awake after getting
up. I haven't even managed to comb my hair yet, and my straight bangs are definitely
pointing vertically towards the sky. And my eyes, which are the same color as
Ember's, don't glow at all. On the contrary, they are so tired and dry that I have to constantly
blink in an attempt to get rid of the unpleasant burning sensation.
It's just after seven in the morning, and I've spent half the night lying awake,
thinking about what I saw yesterday afternoon. When Ember came into my room an hour
ago, I felt like I'd just fallen asleep.
“You look great,” I reply, raising the small digital camera

up. Ember gives me the signal and I take three pictures, then she changes her
pose, turns to the side and looks over her shoulder at me - or rather at the camera.
The dress she's wearing today has a black Peter Pan collar and a striking blue pattern.
She stole it from Mum and modified it a bit to give it a waist.
Ember has been overweight for as long as I can remember, and she
regularly struggles to find clothes that fit her body type.
Unfortunately, the market isn't exactly flooded with it, and she has to constantly
improvise. For her thirteenth birthday, our parents asked her to have her first sewing
machine, which she has been using ever since to sew clothes that she likes.
Ember now knows exactly what suits her. She has a great knack for street style.
For example, with today's dress she combined a denim jacket and white sneakers with
silver heels that she painted herself.
I noticed a jacket in a fashion magazine a few days ago that looked like
the material garbage bags are made of. I wrinkled my nose and quickly turned the
page, but now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure Ember would rock the jacket like a
supermodel.
This certainly has a lot to do with the self-confidence she has

radiates – in front of the camera, but also in real life.
It wasn't always like this. I still remember the days when
she hid in her room, miserable because she was being bullied at school. Back then,
Ember seemed small and vulnerable, but over time she learned to accept her body and
ignore what others say about her.
Ember has no problem calling herself "fat." "It's like Harry Potter," she always says
when someone is surprised by her choice of words. "The name 'Voldemort' is only so
awful because no one dares to say it. It's the same with 'fat,' but it's just
just a description like 'slim' or 'thin'. It's just a word - and not a negative one." It was a long
road for Ember to learn
what the reason is
why she started her blog. She wanted to help others who are in a similar
situation as her to accept themselves.
Ember has been sharing with the world for over a year that she is beautiful just the way
she is, and with her passionate posts on plus size fashion she has built a community
where she is seen as a pioneer and source of inspiration.
Mum, Dad and I also learned an incredible amount from her – not
most recently because she keeps providing us with articles on the subject – and
we are incredibly proud of what she has achieved.
"I think I already have it," I say, after I have also read her third
I photographed her in this pose. Ember immediately comes over to me and grabs the
camera. As she clicks through the shots, her nose wrinkles critically. But she finally
smiles in one of the pictures where she looks over her shoulder.
"I'll take that." She kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you." We walk through the
garden back into the house together, trying to place our feet between the fallen apples.
“When will the article go online?” I ask.

“Tomorrow afternoon, I thought.” She gives me a sideways glance. “Do
you think you have time to take a look at it this evening?” Not really. I have to get
the posters for them
after class today
Hang up the celebration at the weekend and then continue working on my presentation
in history. I also need to come up with a plan to get my letter of recommendation without
ever having to speak to Mr. Sutton again. Just the thought of yesterday - of Lydia
Beaufort on his desk and him between her legs - makes you want to
the nausea arises within me again. The noises the two of them made I suddenly
try to shake the …
memory out of my head.
which only results in Ember looking at me in surprise.
“I’d be happy to,” I say quickly and push past her into the room
Living room. I can't look Ember in the eyes. If she the
When she notices dark circles under my eyes, she knows immediately that something is
wrong, and I really don't need her questions right now.
Not when I can't get Mr Sutton's muffled moans out of my ears, no matter how hard I
try.
"Good morning, darling." My
mother's voice makes me jump, and I
I'm trying hard to get my facial features under control and look normal. Or
whatever you look like when you haven't caught your teacher making out with his
student.
Mum comes to me and kisses me on the cheek. »Everything

okay? You look tired."
Apparently I still have to do that with the normal facial expression
practice sometimes.
"Yeah, I just need caffeine," I mumble and let her maneuver me to the breakfast
table. She fills a cup with coffee and strokes my head one more time before placing it on
the table in front of me.
Meanwhile, Ember goes to Dad and shows him the pictures I took of her. He immediately
puts the newspaper aside and leans over the screen. He smiles, the slight wrinkles at
the corners of his mouth deepening. "Very pretty."
»Do you recognize the dress, darling?« asks Mum. She leans from
behind him and puts his hand on his shoulder.
Dad raises the camera higher and his eyes become thoughtful behind the lenses
of his reading glasses. “Is that the dress you wore
… for our tenth anniversary?” He
looks over his shoulder at Mum and she nods. Mum and Ember have roughly the same
body type, which is why Ember had a lot of clothing to experiment with when she
started her sewing career.
At first, Mum was always sad when Ember sewed herself up and more or less destroyed
her clothes, but that rarely happens anymore. In the meantime, she is happy with
everything Ember conjures up with her old dresses and blouses.
“I tailored it and sewed a collar on it,” says Ember. She sits down at the table and
pours cornflakes into one of the bowls Mum has set out for us.
A smile spreads across Dad's face. "It really turned out very nice," he says and
reaches for Mum's hand. He pulls it until her face is level with his, then he gives her a
tender kiss.
Ember and I look at each other and I know that she feels the same as me
thinks: Ugh. Our parents are so in love with each other that sometimes it can
make you feel a little sick. But we bear it with composure. And considering what happened
to Lin's family, I appreciate that my own is intact. Especially since we had to work hard for
the strong bond that connects us.
“Let me know when your post is online,” Mum says afterward

She sat down next to Dad. “I want to be able to read it straight away.” “Okay,” Ember
replies with her mouth full.
We have to hurry if we want to get to the school bus on time, so I can understand
why she's dragging her feet.
“You’ll take another look at it first, won’t you?” Dad asks me.
Even after over a year, Dad is still skeptical about Ember's blog
concerns. He is uncomfortable with the Internet, especially when his daughter
shares pictures and thoughts of herself there. It took Ember some effort to convince Dad
that a plus size fashion blog was a good idea. But Ember tackled Bellbird with so much
enthusiasm and courage that Dad really had no choice but to let her. His
only condition is that I - as a sensible big sister - test-read Ember's blog articles and check
the pictures before she posts them so that no details about our private life end up on
the Internet. But his worries are unfounded. Ember works diligently and professionally
and I admire her for what she has already achieved with Bellbird in such a short time.
“Sure.” I also shove a spoonful of cornflakes into my mouth

mouth and wash it down with a big gulp of coffee. Now Ember is the one who looks
at me with disgust, but I ignore her. "I'll be a little later today, just so you don't get
surprised." "Is school busy?" asks Mum.
If you only knew.

I'd love to tell Mum, Dad and Ember what happened.
I know I would feel better afterward. But I can not.
My home and Maxton Hall are two different worlds that are not
belong together. And I vowed never to mix them. That's why no one at my
school knows anything about my family, and that's why my family doesn't know
anything about what's happening at Maxton Hall. I made that boundary on my first
day of school, and it was the best decision I could have made. I know that Ember is often
annoyed by my reticence, and I always feel guilty when my parents can't hide their
disappointment quickly enough when I respond to her "How was your day?" “Okay,”
reply. But my home is my oasis of peace. What counts here is family and loyalty and
fidelity and love. There's only one thing that matters in Maxton Hall: money. And I'm afraid
that if I bring things from there with me here, I'll destroy our peaceful place.
Except that it's none of my business what Mr. Sutton and Lydia are
Beaufort, I would never tell on them anyway. The fact that no one in Maxton Hall
knows anything about my private life only works because I stick rigidly to the rule I set for
myself: Don't attract attention! For two years, I have done everything I can to remain
invisible to most of my classmates and to fly under their radar.
If I tell anyone about Mr Sutton or have anything to do with it,

Headmaster would leave, it would cause a scandal. I can't risk that, especially not
now that I'm so close to my ultimate goal.
Lydia Beaufort and her entire family - especially her hideous one
Brother – are exactly the kind of people I should stay miles away from. The
Beauforts run the oldest and largest men's clothing store in England. They have
their fingers in the game not only all over the country, but especially all over Maxton
Hall. They even designed our school uniforms.
No. I definitely shouldn't mess with the Beauforts.

I'll just pretend nothing happened.
When I finally smile at my mother and murmur, "It's not that bad," I know how forced
it must seem. I'm all the more grateful when she doesn't ask and instead pours me another
cup of coffee without comment.
School is horror. I try to concentrate on class, but my mind keeps

wandering. Between classes, I'm terrified of running into Mr. Sutton or
Lydia in the hallway and literally sprint from one classroom to the next.
Lin gives me a sideways glance more than once, and I tell myself to
pull myself together. The last thing I want is for her to start asking questions
that I can't answer. Especially since I'm pretty sure she didn't buy my
excuse that I made a mistake with the appointment yesterday and that's
why I don't have my letter of recommendation yet.
After the last lesson, we go to the secretary's office together and pick up the
posters that finally arrived in the mail yesterday. I would have preferred to go to the
cafeteria first - my stomach growled so loudly in biology that even the teacher turned
around to look at me once. I could have hung them up and saved time that way.
–, but Lin had the idea that we would have to do some
We start in the auditorium, where we attach the first poster together to

one of the mighty pillars. When I'm sure the tape is holding, I take a few
steps back and fold my arms. “What do you mean?” I ask Lin.
»Perfect. At this point, everyone who passes through the main entrance notices
comes in here.” She turns to me and smiles. "That turned out really pretty, Ruby." I
look at the intricate
black letters in which the
Back-to-school party will be announced for a while yet. Doug really
created a great graphic for us - the font combined with the subtle
gold speckles looks classy and glamorous on the silver background, but
at the same time modern enough that it could pass for a school party.
Maxton Hall is known for its legendary parties. In this school

Everything is celebrated - the start of school, the end of school, foundation day,
Halloween, Christmas, New Year, Principal Lexington's birthday... The budget
available to the event team is dizzyingly high.
But – as Lexington reminds us again and again – the image we build up
with successful events is not something we can buy with money.
Because the Maxton Hall parties are only theoretically for the students.
First and foremost, we want to attract parents, sponsors, politicians and all
attract other people with a lot of money who finance our school and through their
support ensure that their children get the best start in life - and end up straight into
Cambridge or Oxford.
When I started school, I had to choose an extracurricular activity, and the

events committee seemed like the best choice: I love planning and organizing, and
it allows me to work in the background without my classmates noticing. I didn't expect to
enjoy it so much. Nor did I expect that two years later I would be sharing leadership of
the team with Lin.
Lin turns to me, a wide grin on her face. "Is it

“Isn’t it the best feeling in the world that no one can chase us around this
year?”
"I don't think I could have endured another day under Elaine Ellington's
thumb without beating her up," I say, and Lin chuckles softly. "Do not laugh. I'm serious."
"I would have liked to see that." "And I would have liked to
have done it." Elaine was an
obnoxious team leader - bossy and
unfair and lazy. Aside from the fact that I don't believe in violence, I would also have
–, but the truth is that of course I never hurt her
violated my rule of doing everything I can to avoid attracting attention here.
But now it was over anyway. Elaine graduated and left school. And it became
apparent when Lin and I were elected as her successors that her dictatorial style was
just as unappealing to the others on the team as it was to us - a fact that still seems
unreal to me.
»Shall we hang up the two posters and then eat

go?" I ask, and Lin nods.
Luckily the rush hour is long over when we finally reach the cafeteria
Most of the students are already on their way to their afternoon classes or
are still enjoying the last rays of sunshine in the school park. Only a few tables are
occupied, so Lin and I manage to get one of the good seats by the window.
Nonetheless, I avoid taking my eyes off my lasagna as I balance my tray across

the room to our table.
Only when I've sat down, put the remaining posters on the chair next to me and my
backpack on the floor, do I dare to look around. Lydia Beaufort is nowhere to be seen.
Across from me, Lin spreads out her planner in front of her and begins
studying him while sipping her orange juice. I see Chinese characters as well as
triangles, circles and other symbols on the pages and once again admire them for their
system that looks so much cooler than the colors I work with. However, I remember
that I once asked Lin to explain to me which symbol had which meaning and for what
occasion she used it, and after half an hour I lost track and gave up.
“We forgot to put a sample poster in Principal Lexington’s drawer,” she murmurs,
tucking her black hair behind her ear. “We have to do that now.” “Sure,” I say with my
mouth full. I think I have tomato sauce
on my chin, but I don't really care. I'm really fuming, probably because I
haven't been able to eat anything other than a few cereals since yesterday afternoon.
»I have to help my mum with an exhibition today,« says

Lin and points to one of the Chinese characters. Her mother opened an art gallery in
London some time ago, which is doing well, but she often has to support Lin - even during
the week.
“If you have to leave early, I can hang up the rest myself,” I offer her, but she shakes
her head.
»Our agreement was a fair division of labor when we accepted the job.
We either do it together or not at all.
I smile at her. "Okay." I told Lin
at the beginning of the school year that I didn't care
to do some of her work from time to time. I like helping others. Especially my friends
– because I don’t have that many. And I know that the situation at home is not easy
and that she is often asked to do more than is actually reasonable. Especially when you
consider that she also has to fulfill the high workload of our classes. But Lin is at least as
ambitious and
just as stubborn as I am – probably one of the reasons why we get along so well.
The fact that we found each other is actually a miracle. Because

When I came to Maxton Hall, she was still moving in very different circles. Back then,
she would sit at a table with Elaine Ellington and her friends during lunch, and it would
never have occurred to me to speak to her, even though we were both on the events team
and I had noticed a few times that she was just as meticulous about her planner as I was.
But then her father had a real scandal on his hands, which caused Lin's family to
lose not only their fortune, but also the circles in which they moved. Suddenly Lin was alone
during recess - whether her friends no longer wanted anything to do with her or whether
Lin was simply too ashamed of what had happened, I don't know. What I do know,
however, is how it feels to lose all your friends in one fell swoop. That's what happened to
me when I moved here from my old high school in Gormsey. I was overwhelmed by
everything - the high demands of the lessons, the extracurricular activities, the fact
that everyone here was so different from me - and at first I hadn't managed to
maintain contact with Gormsey. My friends there made it clear to me what they
thought about it.
Looking back, however, I know that true friends don't constantly make fun of
you just because you like doing something for school. I always laughed off words like "nerd"
and "smart-ass," even though I didn't find them funny at all. And I also know that it has
nothing to do with friendship if the others can't show any understanding that you're in a
special situation. They never once asked me how I was or if they could support me.
At the time, it was incredibly painful to see these friendships break down
like that, especially since no one at Maxton Hall wanted anything to do with me - or even
took any notice of me. I don't come from a rich family. Instead of designer bags, I have a
six-year-old backpack, and instead of a shiny MacBook, I have a laptop that my parents
bought me used before school started. On the weekends I don't go to the popular parties
that everyone is talking about
I'll talk about it all next week - for most of my classmates, I simply don't exist. Now
I think that's a good thing, but the first few weeks at Maxton Hall I felt incredibly lonely
and isolated. Until I met Lin. It wasn't just the fact that she and I went through something
similar with our friends that connected us. Lin also shares two of my biggest hobbies:
she likes to organize her life, and she loves manga.
I can't say that we would have met if it hadn't been for the thing with her parents.
But even though I sometimes feel like she misses the days when she had a name here
and hung out with people like the Ellingtons, I'm grateful that I have her.
»Then you go to the principal and put up the posters at the library and the learning
center on the way there. “I’ll take care of the rest, okay?” I suggest.
I hold out my hand to Lin for a high five. For a moment it looks like
She looks like she wants to say something back, but then she just smiles gratefully and
high-fives. "You're the best."
Someone pulls the chair next to me to the side and sits down on it.
Lin turns pale from one second to the next. I frown as she stares, her eyes wide, at
me, then at the person sitting next to me, and then back at me.
Very slowly I turn to the side – and look straight into turquoise blue eyes.
Like everyone at school, I know those eyes, but I've never seen them this close
before. They are part of a striking face with dark eyebrows, pronounced cheekbones
and an arrogantly curved, beautiful mouth.
James Beaufort sat down next to me.

And he looks at me.
He looks even more dangerous up close than from a distance. He's one of those
people at Maxton Hall who behaves like they own the school. And that's exactly how he
looks: his posture is upright and confident, his tie fits perfectly. The school uniform,
which is actually quite ordinary, looks first-class on him, as if it had been made for his
body. That's probably because his mother designed them. The only thing about him
that isn't accurate is his strawberry blonde hair
Hair that, unlike his sister's, is not perfectly styled, but wildly messy.
"Hey," he says.
Have I ever heard him talk? Yelling on the lacrosse field or drunk at the Maxton Hall
parties, yes, but not like that. His "Hey" sounds familiar, and so does the twinkle in his
eyes. He acts like it's completely normal for him to sit next to me at lunch and talk to me.
But we've never exchanged a word. And we'd like to keep it that way.
I look around carefully and swallow hard. Not all, but definitely a few heads turned
in our direction. It feels like the invisibility cloak I've been wearing for two years has
slipped a bit.
Not good at all, not good at all, not good at all.

»Hey, Lin. Would you mind if I was your girlfriend
“Kidnap me for a moment?” he asks, without once looking away from me. His
gaze is so intense that it sends shivers down my spine. It takes me a while to
understand what he said. The next moment I snap my head around to Lin and try to
make her understand without saying that I would mind, but she doesn't look at me at all,
just at James.
"Sure," she croaks. "Go ahead." I just

manage to grab my backpack from the floor before James Beaufort's hand
is on my lower back and he's guiding me out of the cafeteria. I take a step faster to make
his hand disappear, but even after that I can still feel his touch, as if it had burned through
the fabric of my jacket into my skin. He leads me around the large staircase in
the foyer and only stops behind it at a point where our classmates, who are still running in
and out of the cafeteria, can no longer see us.
I can imagine what he wants. Since he has been with me for the last two
years, it must have something to do with the matter between his sister and Mr Sutton.
Only when I am sure that no one can hear us anymore,

I turned to him. "I think I know what you want from me."
His lips curl into a slight smile. "You do?"
“Listen, Beaufort…” “I’m

afraid I have to stop you here, Robyn.” He takes a step toward me. I don't back away,
just raise an eyebrow at him. »You will quickly forget what you saw yesterday, understand? If
I find out you say one word about it, I'll get you expelled from school."
He presses something into my hand. As if dazed, I lower my gaze

and stiffen when I realize what it is.
In my hand is a heavy wad of fifty pound notes.
I swallow dryly.
I've never held so much money in my hand.
I look up. James' cocky grin speaks volumes. It tells me
It's clear that he knows exactly how much I could use the money. And that he doesn't
buy someone's silence for the first time.
His look and his entire demeanor are so smug that I am suddenly overcome by
incredible anger.
“Are you serious?” I ask through gritted teeth
and hold up the wad of money. I'm so angry my hands are shaking.
Now he looks thoughtful. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulls out
a second bundle and holds it out to me. "There aren't more than ten thousand in it."
Completely stunned, I stare at the money, then back at his face.

»If you keep your mouth shut until the end of the term, we can
Double the whole thing. If you make it to the end of the school year, we'll
quadruple it."
His words repeat in my head, over and over
again, and the blood boils in my veins. How he stands in front of me, throws ten
thousand pounds at my feet and wants to shut me up. As if that were nothing. As if you
were born with a golden spoon in your mouth. Suddenly I realize something very clearly: I
don't just hate James Beaufort.
I detest him. Him and everything he stands for.

How he lives – without consideration or fear of consequences. If you

If you have the name Beaufort, you are untouchable. No matter what you do, Dad's
money will take care of it somehow. While I've been busting my ass for two years to
have even the tiniest chance of getting into Oxford, high school is nothing but a walk in
the park for him.
It's unfair. And the longer I stare at him, the angrier I get.
My fingers clench around the bills in my hand. I grit my teeth and tear open the
thin strip of paper that holds the bundle together.
James frowns. “What…” I suddenly raise

my hand and throw the money into the air.
James returns my stoic gaze with a steely gaze, the only reaction being the throbbing
muscle in his jaw.
While the bills are slowly falling to the ground, I turn around and leave.
OceanofPDF.com
4
Ruby
A reddish-blonde ponytail bounces in front of my face. I direct all my anger at him.
This is all Lydia's fault! If she hadn't messed around with our teacher, I
wouldn't have caught them and they wouldn't have been able to tell on me to her
brother. Then I could concentrate on class now and not worry about him calling
me Robyn . Or that I threw five thousand pounds around.
I bury my face in my hands. I can't believe I actually did that. Not accepting
the money was of course the right thing to do.
But still - since yesterday afternoon, a lot of things have been popping into my head that
I could have used it for. Our house, for example. Since Dad's accident eight years
ago, we've rebuilt it bit by bit and made it barrier-free, but there are some corners that
could still be improved. In addition, our car is slowly but surely giving up the ghost and we
are all dependent on the vehicle. Especially Dad.
With the forty thousand pounds James offered me at the end of the school year I could
have bought a new minibus.
I shake my head. No, I would never accept hush money from the Beauforts. I am not
for sale.
I pull out my planner from under my history book and
I open it. All of today's points have already been ticked off. The only one that still gleams
mockingly at me is: collect the letter of recommendation from Mr Sutton.
I stare at the letters with clenched teeth. I would love to erase them with correction
fluid – just like the memory of Mr Sutton and Lydia.
For the first time since the beginning of the hour, I dare to look over Lydia's
Head forward. Mr Sutton is standing at the whiteboard. He's wearing a checked shirt
over which he's pulled a dark gray cardigan,
as well as the glasses he always wears in class. His stubble is well groomed and I can
see the dimples on his cheeks that everyone on our course always adores.
Suddenly there is laughter around me - he has made a joke.

One of the reasons I've always liked him so much.
Now I can't even look at him.
I don't understand this - Mr Sutton is good enough to get into Oxford, studies there for
years, gets to teach at one of the most prestigious private schools in England shortly after
graduating, and the first thing he does is start something with a student ? Why on earth?
His eyes meet mine, and the next moment his smile slips a little. Lydia in front
of me stiffens. Her shoulders become rigid, as does her neck, as if she were resisting with
all her might from turning to face me.
I lower my gaze to my planner so quickly that my hair

like a dark cloud flying in front of my face. I stay in exactly this position for the rest of
the hour.
When the school bell finally rings, it feels like days have passed, not ninety minutes.
I take as much time as I can.
As if in slow motion, I pack my things and carefully place them in my backpack.
Then I zip up the bag so slowly that I can hear each individual tooth click into place.
Only when the footsteps and voices of my classmates gradually become

quieter do I stand up. Mr Sutton is absentmindedly stuffing his documents into a folder. He
looks tense, every bit of humor he had just displayed has vanished from his features.
The only student still in the room with us is Lydia Beaufort.

She remains at the door, looking between me and Mr. Sutton, her jaw set.
My heart is pounding in my throat as I shoulder my backpack and walk forward. I

stop at some distance from the desk and clear my throat. Mr Sutton looks at me. His
golden brown eyes are full of regret. I can literally feel his guilty conscience. His
movements look like those of a robot.
“Lydia, would you leave us alone?” he asks without looking at her.

“But…”
“Please,” he adds gently, letting his eyes wander to her briefly.
With her lips pressed together, she nods and turns away. She closes the
classroom door quietly behind her.
Mr Sutton turns to me again. He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him
to it.
“I wanted to pick up my letter of recommendation for Oxford,” I say quickly.
He blinks, perplexed, and it takes him a moment to react.

“I... of course.” He frantically leafs through the folder in which he had previously stored his
teaching documents. When he doesn't find what he's looking for, he leans forward,
picks up his brown leather bag from the floor and hoists it onto the desk. He opens it and
rummages around in it for a while. His hands are shaking and I can see a hint of blush on
his cheeks.
"Here's the copy," he murmurs as he finally pulls out a cling film containing a sheet
of paper. “I actually wanted to talk it over with you beforehand, but after…” He clears his
throat. "I already uploaded it because I didn't know if you would still pick it up."
I take the letter with stiff fingers. I swallow hard. "Thank you." He clears his voice
again. The situation
is becoming more and more uncomfortable.
"I want you to know that I..."
"Don't." My voice is a hoarse croak. "Please...don't." "Ruby..." Suddenly I see
another emotion in Mr. Sutton's eyes, alongside the regret: fear. He is afraid of me.
Or rather, of what I will do with the knowledge I have about him and Lydia. "I just wanted
to..." "No," I say, and this time my voice is firmer. I raise my hands defensively. "I don't
plan on telling anyone about this. Really
not. I He opens his mouth and closes it again. His gaze is the same.
… I just want to forget about it.”
Share surprised and doubtful.

"It's none of my business," I continue. "And no one else either." There's a pause
between us in which Mr. Sutton looks at me so intently that I don't know where to
look. It's like he wants to find the answer in my eyes as to whether I'm really serious.
Finally he says quietly: »You know that I will continue to be your teacher. »
Of course I know that. And I find the idea of having to spend several hours a week in
the same room with Lydia and Mr Sutton anything but appealing. But the alternative would
be to go to the headmaster, and my meeting with James Beaufort gave me a clear
foretaste of what would then be in store for me.
Especially since I truly believe that Mr. Sutton's private life is none of my business.
“I just want to forget the whole thing,” I say again.

He lets out a long breath. "And you're making conditions?" … no
Seeing the indignant look on my face, he quickly adds, "Not that you wouldn't pass
my class with ease. You're one of the best in this class, you know that. I just thought I..."
He breaks off with a frustrated groan, his cheeks flushed, his posture uncertain, and his
eyes almost…desperate. He suddenly looks incredibly young, and for the first time I
wonder how old he is. I'd guess mid-twenties at most.
I try to smile, but I can't quite manage it. "I just want to finish my degree in peace,
Mr. Sutton," I say, putting the copy of the letter in my backpack.
When he doesn't reply, I go to the classroom door. There I look over my

shoulder again. "Please don't treat me any differently now." He stares at me as if I were
an apparition -
and not one of the good ones. His look is suspicious, and I can't blame him at all.
“Thank you for the letter of recommendation.” I can see

that he swallows hard. Then he nods once. I'll do an u-turn
I pull away from him and leave the classroom. After closing the door behind me, I lean
my back against it, close my eyes and take several deep breaths.
Only then do I realize that I am not alone. A quiet noise makes me immediately
open my eyes again.
Across from me, James Beaufort is leaning against the wall. He has the arms
crossed over his chest and one foot propped against the wall. Be
His gaze is on me – it is harder than yesterday, his aura darker.

There is no trace left of the conspiratorial grin with which he tried to sell me the money.
He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards me. His steps are slow and almost
threatening. The moment passes as if in slow motion. My heart starts racing. This is his
kingdom. And I feel like an intruder.
He stops just in front of me. He looks down at me without saying a word, and
For a moment I forget how breathing works. When I get it back, I notice how good it smells.
Like star anise.
Spicy and tart, but pleasant. I would have liked to move my nose a little closer to him, but then
I remember who I have in front of me.
James reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.

This frees me from my state of shock. I narrow my eyes and glare at him. "If you
hand me money again, I'll shove it down your throat." His hand stays in place for a second,
then he withdraws it. There is a dark flicker in his eyes. "Stop
this Mother Theresa act and tell me what you want from my family." His voice is velvety
and deep - a strange contrast to his harsh words.
“I don’t want anything from your family,” I start, glad to have the door at my back.
“Except maybe you leave me alone. And Mother Theresa would have taken the money and
distributed it in the cafeteria or given it to those in need on the street. You already know.
Charity and stuff."

James' expression turns stone. “Do you think that’s funny?” he asks, the anger clearly
audible in his voice. He takes another step towards me, getting so close that the tips of his shoes
touch mine.
If he comes a single millimeter closer, I will put him in
kick his groin - no matter who in Maxton Hall knows my name after that. "I don't want any
trouble with you, Beaufort," I say, trying to be calm. "Not with your sister either. And above all,
I don't want your money. The only thing I want is to get through my last year here."
"You really don't want the money," he says, looking so incredulous,

that I can't help but wonder what he and his family must have experienced in
the past. Or who they interacted with.
None of my business, none of my business, none of my business!

»No, I don’t want your money.« Maybe he’ll believe me if I
Repeat a few more times and look him firmly in the eyes.
He looks at me for what seems like an eternity, my face and
to explore my intentions little by little. Then he lowers his gaze, first to my mouth, then
to my chin and neck and even further down.
Centimeter by centimeter.
When he looks up again, understanding has spread across his features.
He takes some distance. “I see.” He sighs, then looks both ways down the hall. "Where
do you want it?" I have no idea what he means. “What?” “Wherever you
want it.” He rubs the back of his head. “I think one of
the tutor rooms is free back there. I have a master key.” He looks at me searchingly.
»Are you very loud? Mrs Wakefield's office is right next door and she usually stays late.'
I can only stare at him, wondering what the heck he's doing
want from me. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
He raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Sure. Listen, I know the I-don't-want-any-money
trick too." Then he suddenly grabs my hand and pulls me across the hallway. In front of
the room in question, he digs the key out of his pocket and unlocks the door.
With his free hand he begins to loosen his tie.

Where do you want it?
When I realize what he meant by it , I gasp in horror. But then he suddenly

takes my hand and begins to pull me into the room. I hold on to the door frame and
snatch his hand away.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him.

“We’re renegotiating now,” he replies. He glances at his
Wrist watch. It consists of a black strap and a bronze case and looks chic. And
incredibly expensive. "I've got training coming up, so it would be really cool if we
could hurry up."
He holds the door open for me and nods into the room as he loosens the knot of
his tie completely and then begins to unbutton his shirt. When his chest is revealed
and I catch a glimpse of the muscles beneath, my brain short-circuits.
My throat becomes bone dry.

"Have you lost your mind?" I croak, taking a step back before he can open the last
button of his shirt.
He looks at me piercingly. »Don't act like you don't
know how things work here.”
I let out a contemptuous snort. »You have lost all your
Cups in the cupboard if you think I can be silenced with physical favors. Who do
you think you are, you pompous bastard?« He blinks several times in a row.
Opens his mouth and closes it
again. Finally he shrugs.

My cheeks are hot. I don't know whether to be disgusted or ashamed. I think
what I feel is a mixture of both.
“What’s wrong with you?” I murmur, shaking my head.
He snorts. "Everyone has a price, Robyn. What's yours?" "My name is Ruby,
damn it!" I hiss, clenching my hands
into fists. "From now on, you should just leave me alone, that's my price. I really can't
afford to be seen with you." His eyes sparkle. "You can't afford to be seen with me ?" The
disbelief in his voice should actually make me angry.
do, but now I just feel sorry for him. Almost.

»The fact that you talked to me in the cafeteria is enough. I do not want
Become part of your world.”
“My world,” he repeats dryly.
"You already know … the parties, drugs and all that nonsense. I don't want anything
to do with it."
Suddenly footsteps sound in the hallway. My heart stops and then starts racing. I
shove James into the room and slam the door behind us. I listen with bated breath and
sincerely hope that whoever is walking out there doesn't come into this room.
Please don't, please don't, please don't.

The footsteps get louder and I squeeze my eyes shut.

They pause briefly in front of the door. Then they become quieter again and
finally fade away completely. I breathe a sigh of relief.
"You're really serious." James' tone is inscrutable, as is his gaze.
"Yes," I say. "So please close your shirt again." He slowly does as
I ask, but keeps his eyes on me.
As if he was looking for a loophole that I might have kept open. He doesn't seem to find
any. “All right.” The pressure on my chest suddenly eases. "OK. Great. So,
I have to go home now, my parents are waiting." I point over my shoulder with my
thumb. When he doesn't say anything, I awkwardly raise my hand in farewell. Then I turn
to the door.
»I still don't trust you.« The sound of his dark voice chases
goosebumps down my arms.
I push down the handle. "The feeling is mutual."
OceanofPDF.com
James
The atmosphere in the locker room is tense, the air is electrified by the adrenaline that
is flooding through us. Those minutes, just before the coach speaks to us and we are
finally allowed onto the field, are the worst and the best at the same time.
In those minutes, anything seems possible: victory and defeat, pride and shame,
triumphant joy and unbearable frustration. At no time is the team spirit greater or the
motivation higher.
From outside we hear the cheers of our classmates, as well as

the opposing fans. It's hard to believe that just five years ago, no one in Maxton Hall
was interested in lacrosse. Back then, it was a sport for losers - anyone who couldn't
impress at rugby or soccer was put on the lacrosse team, and the team was
accordingly bad. A motley bunch of skinny, pubescent guys with spots
on their faces and arms and legs that were too long and they didn't know what to do
with them.
I thought it would be fun to sign up there. Especially

I hoped it would drive my father mad. I never expected that I could actually enjoy it.
Or that after just a few weeks I would be driven to do more with this team. I convinced
my friends to transfer, threatened Principal Lexington with my parents' wrath if he
didn't find us a better coach, and had our best designer design new jerseys for me.
It was the first time in my life that I was passionate about anything. And it
was worth it. Because today, five years later, after hours of training several times a week,
after blood, sweat, tears, a few broken bones and winning three championships, we are
the damn flagship of the school.
We all worked our asses off to get where we are now, and it fills me with pride
every time I
looking into the determined faces of my team before a game.

Like now.
But there is another feeling today. It is dark and painful, and it makes it difficult
for me to pull the protective gear over my head for the first time in all these years.
This will be the first game of my senior year.

When this season is over, that's it for me. Lacrosse will have been nothing but
a part of a slow, cruel countdown that I can't stop, no matter how hard I try.
“Are you okay?” Wren asks, bumping his shoulder into mine.
With all my might I push the thought aside. It is not yet so
far - I still have a whole year ahead of me in which I can do whatever I want. With a grin
that is only half forced, I turn to him: "We're going to show those Eastview bastards."
“McCormack is mine,” Alistair interjects immediately, as if he had

just waiting for the cue. "I have a score to settle with him." "Alistair," Kesh begins to my
left. He
rubs his fingers along the bridge of his nose, right over the spot that was broken a
year ago. "Just let it go." His tone and the meaningful look he gives Alistair leave no
doubt that this is not the first time the two of them have discussed the matter.
“No,” Alistair replies simply.

McCormack, with whom I unfortunately share a first name, has Kesh at
our last game, he deliberately hit Kesh in the face with his stick - right after he
had taken off his helmet. I can still remember the shock when Kesh fell to the ground.
The blood that spurted from his nose and dripped onto his jersey. The minutes he lay
unconscious in front of us.
Although McCormack had been banned for the next three games, the thought of
Kesh's battered face was enough to make me boil with anger - and obviously also in
Alistair, who is still looking at Kesh with a determined expression on his face.
»Just don’t do anything rash,« he says, pulling out his blue

jersey. Then he ties his hair into a low, messy bun and closes his locker door.
“You know him,” Wren murmurs, leaning against the side of the locker, a
crooked grin on her lips.
»I don't care if I get banned for the rest of the season.
McCormack will pay.” Alistair pats Kesh on the shoulder. “Be happy that I’m so
committed to you and your honor.”
Before he can pull his hand away, Kesh grabs it and holds it in place
Determine. He glances over his shoulder. "I'm serious."
Alistair narrows his amber eyes to slits.
"Me too."
The two stare at each other for a moment too long, and the already charged air
becomes even thicker. Time to intervene. “Better save your energy for the game,” I say
in a tone that makes it abundantly clear that I’m not speaking to them as their
friend at that moment, but as their captain. Two pairs of angry eyes turn to me,
but before they can respond, I clap my hands loudly.
The team immediately gathers in the middle of the locker room. As I walk, I pull
the number 17 jersey over my head. The material feels familiar, as if it were a part of
me. Again, that dark feeling tries to rise up inside me, but I push it back with all my
might and instead concentrate on Coach Freeman, who at that moment steps out
of his locker room and comes over to us. He is a tall, lanky man who, with his long limbs,
would have been more likely to be a long-distance runner or track and field athlete
than a lacrosse player. He pulls his blue cap over his hair, which has become thinner
and lighter over the last few years, adjusts the peak, and then puts his arms
around me and Cyril, his captain and co-captain.
He lets his gaze wander around the room. »For some of you
This is the first season, for others the last. Our goal is the championship,”
he growls. »Anything else is unacceptable. So make sure you get the sacks ready."
Coach Freeman isn't a man of
big words, but that's not necessary. A few sentences from him are enough to
elicit a loud roar of approval from our ranks.
»This has to be the best season Maxton Hall has ever seen
"," I add, much louder than the coach. "Clear?"
The boys are yelling again, but it's not loud enough for Cyril. He puts a hand to his ear.
"Clear?"
This time the roar is so loud that my ears are ringing - exactly as it should be.
Then we put on our helmets and grab our clubs.

The way out of the changing rooms through the narrow tunnel feels like diving - the noises
from outside are muffled, almost as if there was pressure on my ears. I grip my racket
tighter and lead my team out onto the court.
The stands are packed. People cheer as we run onto the field, the cheerleaders dance.
Music blares through the speakers and makes the ground vibrate beneath my feet. Fresh
air rushes into my lungs and I feel more alive than I have in weeks.
While the substitutes and the coach move to the sidelines, we go to the middle of
the field and stand in front of the other team's players, who all look at least as motivated as
we are.
“It's going to be a good game,” Cyril murmurs next to me, expressing what I'm thinking.
While we wait for the referees, I let my gaze wander over the stands. I hardly recognize
anyone from here, apart from Lydia, who is sitting at the top with her friends as usual and
acts as if she couldn't care less about the whole spectacle. I look toward the sidelines, looking
at the other team's substitutes, then their coach, who is walking up to Coach
Freeman to greet him.
A head of brown hair catches my attention. A girl

stands next to the two of them. She exchanges a few words with them and then points
to something in her hand. When the wind blows her hair out of her face, I recognize her.
I really can't afford to be seen with you.

The memory of her words feels like a slap in the face
Pit in the stomach. Nobody has ever said anything like that to me.
As a rule, the exact opposite is the case. People want to be seen with me at any cost .
From the first moment I entered this school, my classmates were following me and trying
to get my attention. That's how it works,
if your name is Beaufort. Ever since my maternal family founded the fashion
house for traditional men's clothing one hundred and fifty years ago and built a billion-
dollar empire in the process, there hasn't been a person in this country who doesn't know
our name.
Beaufort is associated with wealth. With influence. With power. And there are a
number of people at Maxton Hall who think I can get them those things - or a
fraction of them - if they just butter me up enough.
I can't even count on both hands how many times

someone slipped me suit sketches after a night of partying. How many times
someone approached me under false pretenses, only to ask for my parents' contact
information during the conversation. How many times someone tried to infiltrate my
circle of friends just so they could give the press inside information about
me and Lydia. The picture of me snorting a line of coke from Wren's sixteenth
birthday two years ago is just one example of many. Not to mention
everything Lydia has been through.
That's why I chose my friends carefully. Wren, Alistair, Cyril and Kesh are not
interested in my money - they have more than enough of it. Alistair and Cyril come from
the Old English nobility, Wren's father has built an incredible fortune through stock
trading, and Kesh's dad is a successful film producer.
People want our attention.

All but My …
gaze remains on Ruby. Her dark hair shimmers in the light of the
sun and is ruffled by the wind. She struggles with her bangs, smoothing them with her
hand, although it doesn't help at all because two seconds later they're flying in all
directions again. I'm pretty sure I'd never seen her before before the Lydia thing.
Now I'm wondering how that can be.

Everything about her arouses my suspicions - especially her piercing green
eyes. I want to go to her to see if she looks at other people the way she looked at me:
with fire in her eyes and full of contempt.
This girl saw my sister making out with a teacher. I wonder what she's up to. Is
she just waiting for the right time to drop the bomb. It wouldn't be the first headline about
my family to appear in the newspapers.
Mortimer Beaufort's affair with 20-year-

old Cordelia Beaufort's fall into depression
Will addiction destroy him? James Beaufort dependent!
After dinner with an employee, the media accused my father of having an affair,
turned my parents' argument into a severe depression, and turned me into a junkie who was
on the verge of an overdose and urgently needed to be rescued. It's hard to imagine
what would be in the papers if journalists got wind of Lydia and Mr Sutton.
I continue to look at Ruby. She digs a camera out of her backpack

and takes a picture of the coaches as they shake each other's hands
one more time. My grip on the stick becomes so tight that my gloves
creak. I can't assess Ruby, I have no idea whether she was telling the truth
or whether there was ice-cold calculation behind her facade.
Maybe I should have offered her more money. Or maybe she wants something
else and is just waiting for the right moment to ask me for it.
That the fate of my family – especially that of Lydia – in

I don't like it at all.
We'll see.
Ruby
I am completely overwhelmed.
Lacrosse is a fast sport. The ball shoots from one pocket to the next and I can
hardly keep up - neither with the camera nor with the naked eye. I should have known
from the start that I would not be able to document this game without Lin.
We usually divide the articles about sporting events

between ourselves: one writes down the game, the other does the
Photos. But Lin's mother called her back to London at short notice today, and we
were unable to get hold of anyone from the event team who could have stepped in.
Since the posts about the lacrosse team on our event blog are
by far the most clicked on, we didn't want to take it off. The only problem is that in
order to write a report with the headline “Maxton Hall vs. Eastview – Duel of the
Giants”, I would have to understand what is actually happening on the field. But
between the roar of the players, the loud curses of the coaches and the cheers
and boos of the spectators, it is
difficult to keep track of the individual moves, let alone get suitable photos of
important scenes. Especially since I have to work with a camera that is definitely over ten
years old.
“Holy shit!” Coach Freeman shouts next to me so loudly that I jump. I look up from
the camera in my hand and realize I missed Eastview's second goal. Damn.
Lin is going to kill me.

I sneak a step closer to the coach. When you're watching a live game, there's
no instant replay like you can on TV, but maybe he'll explain to me what happened. But
before I can open my mouth, he starts screaming again.
"Give it the fuck up, Ellington!" I whirl back to the

field. Alistair Ellington is sprinting towards the opposition half, so fast that I don't
even try to raise the camera because it's impossible to capture the move on film. He tries
to sprint between two defenders, but then a third opponent suddenly appears and blocks
his path. Ellington is damn quick, but small compared to his teammates. Even I know he's
got no chance against three at once.
One defender throws his shoulder heavily against him.

Ellington holds on, but slips back a good half a meter on the grass.
“Pass it!” the coach yells again.

Alistair continues to push against the player, even from the sidelines I can hear the
two of them egging each other on. Suddenly Alistair's already tense posture becomes
even stiffer, and for a second
He and the opposing player seem frozen in their positions.

Coach Freeman takes a deep breath, probably to shout out another instruction, but then
Alistair pulls back his stick, swings, and hits his opponent in the side with full force.
I gasp in horror. Alistair hits me a second time, this time in the stomach of his
opponent. He screams in pain and falls to his knees. Meanwhile, the other defender
throws himself at Alistair, pulls him to the ground and starts to beat him with gloved fists.
Alistair hits him with the stick too. The shrill whistle of a whistle sounds, but it takes several
team members to pull the brawlers apart. I hear James Beaufort's dark voice. He shouts
at Ellington, and I can imagine that as team captain he would like to rip his
head off.
Next to me, Coach Freeman is constantly cursing. From his

When it comes to swear words, “damn shit” is the nicest, all the others are definitely
not suitable for young people. He's taken off his cap and is tearing his hair so violently that
I think I see some of it fall to the floor.
Shortly afterwards, the referee sends Alistair off the pitch.
He comes to us at the edge of the field, takes the helmet off his head and
removes his mouthguard. He carelessly throws both to the ground.
“What the hell was that, Ellington?” growls the coach.
I discreetly move backwards a bit so as not to get caught in the crossfire.
“He deserves it,” he replies. His voice is perfect

calm, as if he hadn't just gotten into a fight.
»You are…«
»Suspended for the next three games?« Alistair shrugs. »If you think the
team can handle it, from me
out of."
Then he leisurely walks past the coach, throws his stick on the ground and takes off
his gloves. When he catches me staring, he stops.
“Is something wrong?” he asks challengingly.

I shake my head.
Luckily, the referee’s whistle saved me from having to
having to give an answer. I'll get to mine as quickly as I can
original position back. It takes me a few seconds to figure out where the ball is - in
the pocket of Wren Fitzgerald's bat.
Wren is not as fast as Alistair, but is stronger. He shoulders an Eastview player out of
the way, but moments later the ball is taken away from him by another. However, Beaufort
is hot on his heels, intercepting the ball again when his opponent wants to pass it.
I twist the corners of my mouth displeasedly. Beaufort is really good.

Damn good actually. He moves agilely and smoothly, adapting his steps to those of
his opponents and being brutal when someone gets in his way. I can't see his face
under the helmet, but I'm sure he's enjoying being on the field. When he plays, it looks
like all he's done all his life is run around with a lacrosse stick.
“What are you doing?” Alistair’s voice suddenly sounds next to me.
Not only does it make me cringe, but it also reminds me why I'm here in the first place.
I hastily open my notebook again.
»I am writing the article about the game for the Maxton Blog,« I explain,
without looking up. "What is the name of the defender who just took the ball from
Wren?" "Harrington,"
Alistair answers. I can feel his gaze on me,
while Coach Freeman once again goes on a tirade.
Apparently Beaufort lost the ball while I was taking notes. Eastview has the ball again.
"Come on, Kesh," Alistair whispers.

The Eastview attacker jumps half a meter into the air to
to catch the ball. Back on the ground, he takes two short steps and then shoots the ball
forward in a powerful movement. It all happens so quickly that I can't tell at first whether
it landed in the net or not. But then the Maxton Hall side in the stands cheer loudly as
Keshav holds up his stick. Apparently Alistair's quiet incantation helped - he held.
"Make me look good when you write the article," says Alistair, as I make a last-
minute note of Keshav holding on my pad.
I return his gaze skeptically. It is the first time that I have

I look up close and notice that his eyes are the color of scotch. »You hit another player
for no reason.
How do you think I should package this well?” A shadow crosses
his face as his gaze lands on Keshav again. “Who says I did that for no reason?” I
shrug. “It just didn't look like it from here
you would have given a lot of thought to what you were doing."
Alistair looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "I've been waiting for months for the
moment to slap McCormack. And when he just opened his mouth and insulted me and my
friends, I finally had the official opportunity." One of his blond curls falls onto his forehead
and he brushes it out of the way. Then his gaze
falls on my notes. He wrinkles his nose.
»How are you going to decipher this later when you write the article?
You can't read anything." I would like to protest,
but he's right. Under normal circumstances my handwriting is neat, but if I
try hard, it's even pretty. But at the speed with which I had to document everything
here, it mutated into a mess.
»Normally there are two of us,« I justify myself, even though it

I couldn't really care what Alistair Ellington thinks about my writing. "And it's not that
easy to take photos, watch the game and remember all the moves at the same time
so that you can write them down afterwards."
"Why didn't you just film the game?" he asks. He sounds genuinely interested and
not like he's just looking for a reason to make fun of me.
Without comment, I raise my camera.

Alistair wrinkles his nose. “When is this thing from?” “I think my
mom bought it before my sister was born,” I answer.
»And how old is your sister? Five?" "Sixteen."

Alistair blinks
a few times, then a grin spreads across his face. He no longer looks like the tough
lacrosse player who hit someone with a stick just a few minutes ago.
More like an… angel. He has beautiful, even facial features that, together with his
blonde curls, make a completely harmless impression. But I know that this is misleading.
Alistair is one of James Beaufort's best friends - and that makes him pretty much
the opposite of harmless.
“Wait a moment,” he says suddenly, then turns around and

disappears through the door that leads to the changing rooms. Before I can ask myself
what he is planning, he is standing next to me again. In his hand he is holding a black iPhone.
»I no longer have enough storage space to play the entire game

"But I can take a few pictures," he explains. He unlocks the display, opens the
camera app and turns the phone so that the lens points towards the field. When he
notices that I'm not moving, he raises an eyebrow. “You have to watch the game, not me.” I
blink, perplexed. I'm so surprised that I'm not even embarrassed that he caught me staring
again. “You
want to help me?”
He shrugs his shoulders. »I have nothing better to do now anyway.« »That is
… really nice of you. Thanks.” I try not to

I try to sound suspicious, but I can't really manage it. This situation is just so surreal. I can't
believe that this is actually Elaine Ellington's brother. Elaine would never have helped
me. In fact, she would have laughed at me for my camera and made sure that everyone knew
about it the next day.
I watch Alistair out of the corner of my eye for a while, but he seems
to actually take his new job seriously. He takes one picture after the other and only
occasionally lowers his cell phone to shout something motivating to his team or to insult his
opponents.
I devote myself to my notes, which is much easier for me now.
When Coach Freeman comes over, I think he's going to send Alistair off the field completely
for yelling dirty words at an Eastview attacker. But instead, he stands next to me and
starts explaining the plays and naming some of the maneuvers.
It starts to rain during the last ten minutes of the game, but that
does not seem to dampen the mood either in the stands or on the
pitch, quite the opposite. When Maxton Hall wins the game after an assist
from Cyril Vega to Beaufort, the fans seem to go wild. The coach lets
out an animalistic scream, turns to them with clenched fists and throws his
arms in the air.
I quickly close my pad and stuff it into my backpack.
By now my hair is soaking wet and my bangs are stuck to my forehead.
There's no point in trying to pull them into place and I definitely don't want
to push them back either, as I inherited my dad's high forehead.
One by one, the players jog off the field and high-five Alistair - all except
Keshav, who walks towards the locker room without even looking at him.
An emotion crosses Alistair's face that I can't define. His grin slips for
a split second and his eyes turn dark, impenetrable. But then he blinks
and the moment is over so quickly that I think I must have imagined it.
Alistair catches me looking at him again. He raises his eyebrows.
“Thanks again,” I say quickly, before he can beat me to it.

I don't know if he's nice to me when his friends are around and I'd rather
not risk it. "For the pictures." "No problem." He taps around on the
touchscreen of his phone and then holds it out to me. The number pad
is open on the display. "Give me your number so I can send you the pictures."
I pick up the phone. Before I have even typed the last digit
I hear a voice that I now know far too well.
“What are you doing?” I
look up.
James Beaufort is standing in front of me. The rain has completely soaked him: His
His strawberry-blond hair is much darker than usual and hangs low over
his forehead, making his features even more angular. He holds his stick in
one hand and his helmet in the other, and he doesn't seem to care
that water is running from his face, over his shoulders, down his entire
body and mixing with the mud that has accumulated on his jersey
during the game.
I don't want to, but I stare at his wet body. The sight awakens something in me that
has nothing to do with distrust and dislike. It's a feeling I don't know, but I'm pretty sure
James Beaufort is the last person I should feel it in front of.
I resolutely push aside all thoughts about what this could mean,
aside and try to appear as uninvolved as possible.
Thankfully, Alistair answers his question. "She's writing an article about the
game for the Maxton blog." He takes the phone from my hand, looks at my number
and then at the name I've saved it under. I doubt he knew my name beforehand. "I'll send
you the pictures later, Ruby."
"Great, thank you very much," I say, even though I'm mentally preparing myself for
the fact that he most likely won't do it. No matter how much he has surprised me in the last
half hour, he is still Alistair Ellington.
"I'll go see how angry Kesh is," he says to James.

“Really angry,” James says, turning his cold gaze on his friend and teammate. “Just
like me and everyone else. I told you to stay away from McCormack." "And I didn't listen to
you." Alistair shrugs.
"You may be my captain, James, but you're not my mother." He sounds like he
couldn't care less what James thinks of him, but when he gives him a quick pat on the
shoulder, it seems like an apology to me. Then he turns around to go to the
locker room.
James' gaze is now back on me. It is colder than before. Whether it is
I don't know whether it's because of me or because of the brief argument with Alistair,
but nonetheless I would like to get out of here as quickly as possible.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
The rain suddenly seems even icier to me.

"I don't know what you mean," I say, sounding braver than I actually feel.
He makes a short sound that is probably meant to be something like a laugh.

Or a bark? I am not completely sure. All I notice is that his posture has become even stiffer
and his expression has become even more unyielding.
"Keep your hands off my friends, Ruby." Before I can

reply, he rushes past me into the locker room to the cheers of the
spectators.
OceanofPDF.com
6
James
“This party is lame.” Wren takes a long drink from his hip flask and then passes it to
Cyril, who is leaning against the balustrade next to him with a similarly disgusted
expression on his face.
Below us is Weston Hall, a sprawling, ornate ballroom with Maxton Hall's signature
Renaissance windows, wickerwork parquet floors, and moldings on the walls. Like the
rest of the campus, the space has the feel of being transported straight back to the
fifteenth century—at least, normally.
Tonight you feel like you've wandered into a children's birthday party.
The decorations are playful, and the buffet has children's punch and hors
d'oeuvres in little mason jars with colorful bows. The music is awful. What the DJ is
doing down there at his desk is a mystery to me. There are no transitions between the
songs; it sounds more like he just turned on a Spotify playlist and pressed shuffle.
I'm expecting an annoying atmosphere to advertise a bad newcomer at any
moment.
In addition, it seems that the guests were not clear about the dress code for the
party. Some dressed up way too much, others dressed too casually.
All in all, the party is a complete failure. It seems as if someone had tried to bring a
breath of fresh air to Maxton Hall, but didn't dare completely throw tradition overboard.
The result is a strange mishmash of classy and innovative, which confuses the
guests and prevents even the slightest spark of atmosphere from emerging.
»Oh, come on. “It’s not that bad,” Alistair interrupts my thoughts. He buries his
hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking at
those under the balustrade
on the dance floor, where a few people have actually gathered.
“You’re the only one who’s up for these parties,” Kesh replies
with an eye roll.
Alistair shrugs. “Because they’re funny.” Kesh twists the corners
of his mouth. He takes the hip flask from Cyril
and passes it to me without drinking from it.
"It's going to be fun, believe me." I take a big sip of scotch and enjoy the burn
that runs down my throat.
Wren looks back and forth between me and Alistair. Then his
Eyes wide. "You have something planned?"
I ignore the question and just shrug vaguely, but as always, Alistair has no control
over his features. You don't have to know him very well to see that he's planning
something.
His conspiratorially sparkling eyes and restless posture actually give it all away.
"I do not believe that. You planned something, told him , but didn't tell me?" Wren points
an accusatory finger at Alistair and then at me. "You are my best friend. I see this as a
betrayal of myself.”
I grin. "Treason?" He nods

vigorously. "High treason. A violation of the holy brotherhood that has
bound us since childhood." "What bullshit." My dry tone
earns me a firm
punch on the shoulder.
"Look at it this way, Wren: he's giving you a great surprise,"

says Alistair and pinches Wren's cheek. Wren accepts it with a grimace.
»I hope for your sake that it will be worth it.« His words
are already slow, even though this is only our third
Round with the hip flask. When Wren reaches for it again, I let him have it anyway. It's
actually a shame to drink the expensive Bowmore in secret up here instead of from a
crystal glass, but at Maxton Hall parties alcoholic drinks are only served for parents or
alumni. Students are strictly prohibited from going anywhere near the bar.
However, that has never stopped us from
ourselves to make sure we have fun here, and most teachers turn a blind eye when
they notice we've been drinking. The worst thing we've gotten so far is a warning.
My parents donate so much money every year that the school receives nothing
has no choice but to show leniency. She simply cannot afford to upset us or
our friends.
"Where is Lydia anyway?" asks Cyril. His tone is deliberately casual, but it can't
fool any of us. Cyril has been in love with my sister for years. And since the two of them
started dating two years ago, things have gotten really bad. Lydia, who just wanted to
have fun, ended things after a few weeks - not knowing that Cyril was head over heels
in love with her and that she was breaking his heart.
Sometimes I really feel sorry for him. Especially when I think about the fact that he
hasn't gotten involved with anyone in over two years and is clearly still mourning her. I
don't know
“Don’t you think it’s time to look ahead?” asks … … times after
Alistair.
Cyril gives him a withering look with ice-blue eyes.
"Lydia went to see a friend earlier, I think she's coming later," I answer before the
situation can escalate. Every time we even remotely broach the subject of Lydia, Cyril
reacts as if we had insulted him in the worst possible way.
Under no circumstances must he find out that my sister had something to

do with that teacher joke.
Which reminds me that I really need to have a word with Mr Sutton. The bastard
should keep his hands off my sister or I'll make the rest of his time at Maxton Hall a living
hell.
I'm annoyed that I didn't plan on doing it long ago. But

Making sure Ruby kept her mouth shut was a priority for now. Especially because
there is still something about this girl that makes me suspicious.
A few days ago I met her in the hallway when I was walking with Lydia to
philosophy. While my sister was determined to
I looked at Ruby. Our eyes met, but in less than a blink of an eye she looked right
through me. I did the opposite and stared after her until I had to turn my head to look
at her. I was particularly struck by her proud posture. The way she held her
files tightly in her arms, her determined steps, her chin jutting out. She looked like
she was going into battle.
I look out for her automatically. My sensors must be somehow aligned with her,
because in a crowd of over a hundred people it only takes me a few seconds to find her.
I lean both arms on the railing of the balustrade and bend forward a little.
Ruby is standing at the edge of the buffet, frantically writing something down
a clipboard. She looks up, looks around and starts writing again. Then she turns
abruptly and runs towards the music system behind which the DJ is standing.
She exchanges a few words with him and points to her notes.
Something clicks in my head.

Oh damn.
She must be on the event team.
The corners of my mouth twitch. That would be amusing.
Ruby says something else to the DJ, and he nods. Then she walks back across the
dance floor until she is back at her place at the buffet, a little away from the action. She
reaches into the neckline of her dark green dress and pulls something out.
A cell phone. She taps it and puts it away again. At the same moment a guy in a suit
comes up to her.
When I realize who it is, I grip the wooden railing tighter.

Graham Sutton.
Aside from the fact that I'm suspicious of any guy who gets too close to
my sister, a whole lot more alarm bells are ringing for Sutton. Especially now that I see him
talking to Ruby. She's avoiding his gaze, but doesn't seem particularly upset.
I squint my eyes and curse myself for standing up here and not down at the buffet
where I could hear
what the two are talking about. Maybe it's something completely banal like the event.
Or they talk about my sister.
What if the two of them are in cahoots? What if Sutton made a deal with Ruby? That
thought never occurred to me, and I doubt Lydia has considered it. She didn't explain to
me how she ended up making out with her teacher, but I know my sister well enough to
know that this man is more to her than a little adrenaline rush.
An overwhelming need to protect my sister grows within me. I reach into the
inside pocket of my jacket and pull out my phone. I unlock it with my thumb, then swipe
the screen to the left to open the camera.
The corner where Ruby and Mr Sutton are standing is dark. He has a hand on
her shoulder and his mouth comes pretty close to her face as he speaks. Only at second
glance do you see that Ruby's clipboard is between them and they are both looking
at it.
Apparently they're actually talking about the event.
It's completely harmless when you see it in real life. But on my phone's display, from
a well-chosen angle and with sensible editing, the situation could clearly be interpreted
differently. I press the shutter. Several times in a row.
“What are you doing?” Alistair’s voice comes from close behind me. He looks over
my shoulder at the phone.
“Insuring myself,” I reply.
He frowns. "What do you have against her?" I take a
deep breath. I would love to have more Bowmore so I can finally turn my head off
completely. I haven't been able to do that for days.
"She saw something she shouldn't have seen." Alistair looks at me

thoughtfully for a moment, then nods.
"Okay."
"If she tells anyone, Lydia will be in real trouble." He looks down
and watches Ruby,
who is still talking to Mr. Sutton. "I understand."
I take one last picture and put the phone back in the inside pocket of my jacket.
Then I let my gaze wander to the entrance of the hall. "My guests have arrived." A grin
spreads across Alistair's face. "Showtime."
Ruby
The party is a complete success. At eleven o'clock the guests crowd into the Maxton
Hall, drinking and eating, talking or dancing. Nothing has gone terribly wrong so far,
and Principal Lexington has just congratulated Lin and me on a successful evening. I'm
so relieved that for a brief moment I consider whether I should go to the dance
floor and let go a little. But I've already cleared Doug and Camille for the rest of the
evening, and one of us has to keep an eye on the buffet so that no one thinks of
putting alcohol in the punch.
For the first two hours the dance floor was yawningly empty and I was quite
worried. But Kieran, who is on the events team with me and took care of the music,
said it was completely normal. And he was right. For half an hour the guests have been
dancing to various remixes of songs from the charts that I personally don't like at all,
but seem to be well received here.
I look around. Many of the faces are unfamiliar to me, but the
is perfectly normal. The purpose of these parties is to bring alumni together,
find sponsors, and woo the parents of future students. That was the first thing
Principal Lexington explained to me when I applied for the event committee two years
ago.
Maxton Hall events are only secondary so that we students can spend a nice evening
together.
Suddenly the lights go out. And so does the music.
For a second I freeze in shock, then I hastily grab
my bra and pull out my phone. "Damn, damn, damn," I mutter, trying to turn
on the flashlight.
An angry murmur goes through the hall, which echoes through
echoes in my head. This party has to run smoothly. Nothing can go wrong.
Even if a power generator fails – Lin and I will be held responsible for that, and in my mind
I can hear
Mr Lexington's disappointing talk about planning and foresight and the damage we
have done to the school's image.
I immediately make my way past the buffet. There is no point in looking for Lin
now, I urgently need to see caretaker Jones so that he can go with me to the basement
and open the electrical box. The light comes back on. I …
breathe a sigh of relief and press my hand
on my pounding heart. But when I turn around and see James Beaufort standing
behind the DJ booth, it just hits me.
He talks to the DJ and puts something in his hand. Probably money. I clench my teeth
tightly. I'm far too far away to intervene quickly enough. I look at the dance floor. A few guests
look around curiously, probably wondering what happened to the music. Others head towards
the buffet or bar.
I only notice that some of the people there don't look like Maxton Hall customers
at all until it's already too late.
»Friends,« the DJ's voice rings out. »As I just heard,
There is a very special surprise for you today. Are you ready?” My stomach does a
somersault. Opposite me, on the other side of the dance floor, I spot Lin and
Kieran, who look like statues with their pale faces. "Have fun!"
The lights are dimmed until the hall is in semi-darkness. A murmur of

astonishment goes through the crowd when the music starts again. The song that plays
has deep bass and a slow beat that makes the chandeliers clink. I stare at the dance
floor. A few women and men begin to dance lasciviously. Suddenly the atmosphere
in the hall seems to be completely different than it was a few minutes ago. It is
no longer dignified and noble - but dirty and wicked. I'm about to make my way
to Beaufort to confront him when someone touches me on the arm.
"Are you Ruby Bell?" the guy who came next to me asks. I nod absently. At the
other end of the hall, one of the young women grabs Mr. Sutton and Mr. Cabot and pulls
them into the middle of the dance floor.
“This is a gift from your friend James Beaufort,” he continues, pushing a chair into
the back of my knee so that I fall into it.
I look up at him, perplexed.
The guy is maybe in his early twenties, has light blonde, slicked back hair and light
… goes dry.
blue eyes. He positions himself in front of me and begins to dance. My mouth
My head is on standby.
I can't believe this is happening right now. But it does. The guy first slowly pulls his
jacket off his shoulders, then begins to loosen his black bow tie. When he loosens it
completely and throws it behind him, a few women scream in delight. He then plays with
his suspenders, slips one over his shoulder and smiles seductively at me. When
he reaches the second carrier, he turns smoothly around his own axis and then defiantly
lets him snap back onto his chest. Then he leans towards me and rocks his hips to the
slow rhythm of the song.
“Aren’t you going to help me, Ruby?” he whispers, taking mine

Hand in his, which is surprisingly warm, and guides it to his suspenders.
“Come on, take it off!” someone calls to me.

That breaks me out of my stupor.
I jump up. The guy backs away. For a moment he seems
unsettled, but then the inviting smile returns to his lips. Without further ado, he
pushes his suspenders over his shoulder and continues with his show as if nothing had
happened.
My heart stops as my gaze moves past him to the center of the
Dance floor falls. Two of the young women dance in front of Mr. Cabot, wearing nothing
but shimmering thongs and thin lace bras.
This can only be a bad dream from which I'll wake up in a sweat at any
moment. But when I also see Alistair Ellington, with a man sitting on his lap, also taking
off his suspenders and then starting to unbutton his shirt with Alistair's support, I can
no longer fool myself.
This is reality.
I whirl around angrily. I spot him immediately. James Beaufort leans
at the edge of the hall and watches the spectacle. He is holding a glass of brown
liquid in his hand and his expression is almost blissful. In the next second our eyes
meet. Smiling, he raises his glass and toasts me. The rational part of my brain advises
me to find Lin first and then go to the teachers so that we can end this madness
immediately. The irrational part wants to do James a bad thing.
Doing things that cause great pain. Even though this part is much louder
right now, I think better of it and turn away.
I can still inflict pain on James Beaufort later. And I already know exactly
how.
OceanofPDF.com
James
On Monday morning there is no other topic of conversation than the party.

After our school's online forum almost exploded over the weekend because everyone
was sharing and commenting on their pictures and videos, our classmates are now high-
fiving us as we pass by and thanking us for a great evening. The event was not only a
headline in our daily newspaper, it has also reached other schools in England.
Of course, my parents didn't believe a word I said when I assured them that I had
nothing to do with the whole thing, but in the end they were angrier at Lydia for not showing up
at the party.
All in all, the campaign was a complete success.

At least until the loudspeakers rattle in the hallways and an announcement echoes through
the school.
"James Beaufort is to be called to Principal Lexington's office immediately." I expected
that.
Lexington had already expressed his disappointment about the incident
during the assembly that takes place every Monday before classes start in Boyd Hall
and reminded all students of Maxton Hall's code of values in a meaningful voice. It's always the
same: we do something, he tells the whole student body how shocked he is, then calls
us into his office, only to give us a warning and then dismiss us five minutes later.
“Let’s see if he gives the same lecture he always does,” Wren says, wrapping an arm
around my shoulder. He hugs me to his side briefly.
»Don't let yourself be made small.«
“I never do,” I reply, say goodbye to him and the others and stroll towards the
principal’s office.
Once there, his assistant silently points to the door.
Without hesitation, I knock twice.

"Come in." I
step in and close the door behind me. When I turn around, I'm surprised. Coach
Freeman is standing next to the principal's desk, and right in front of him sits... Ruby. She
glances over her shoulder at me briefly before looking back to the front.
»You wanted to talk to me?« I ask. I am a little

amazed at the audience.
Lexington points with his hand to the place in front of his desk
to Ruby's right. "Sit down." His tone is different than usual.
Normally he sounds equal parts annoyed and irritated when he speaks to me, as if it's all
just a nuisance and he'd rather get back to the important stuff at work. This time his
voice is disturbingly quiet. The lines on his face also seem deeper than usual.
Apparently I haven't picked a good day for a lecture.
I collapse into the chair in front of his desk.

“Is it true that you were the one who made some…” He clears his throat
for our party last weekend. Apparently he first has to search for a word that is appropriate
for these rooms. “…hired entertainers who caused trouble?”
When I hear the word “entertainer,” I have to suppress a laugh.

"That depends on who you mean by 'entertainer', sir," I say
slowly. "I swear I had nothing to do with the DJ."
Lexington nods and looks at me with steel-gray eyes. "Do you think this is a joke,
Mr Beaufort?" I shrug uncertainly. "Some
days, yes, sir." Ruby gasps indignantly. I look at her, but she moves away.
my gaze immediately.
Principal Lexington leans forward on his dark mahogany desk. The
light shining into the room from outside only half illuminates his face. The
silence in here suddenly seems almost eerie.
»Tell me, Mr Beaufort. How do you think this incident will affect
the reputation of our college?«
I have to think about the answer for a moment. »I think that something like that
our image is good. Everything here is always too stiff, it is damaging
nothing to loosen it up every now and then."

"You've really lost your mind," hisses Ruby.
"Ms. Bell!" barks Mr. Lexington. "It's not your turn." Ruby's face turns white. She
presses her lips tightly together and lowers her gaze to the green backpack lying on
her lap. It looks as if it's about to fall apart at any moment.
»Mr Beaufort, what you have done has crossed a line. I

“Cannot tolerate such acts at Maxton Hall College.”
… Therefore, I hereby issue a warning. If you
If you engage in such behavior, you will face consequences.
I know Lexington's speech by heart. I would love to repeat it and watch his
reaction.
"You're a grown man, and this is your last year of school. You need to start taking
responsibility and realizing that your actions have consequences," Lexington continues.
Oh. This part is new.

»Since you ruined the first event of the school year, I think it's only fair if you support
the school's events committee from now until the end of the term. Let's call it community
service under Ms. Bell's supervision.” A second of silence. Then “What?” Ruby and I
shout at the same time.
…
The next moment we are staring at each other.

"That's out of the question," I say, while Ruby
mutters: »Sir, I don’t know…«
Lexington raises his hand to silence us. He looks
looking at me over his rimless glasses, his eyes seeming to bore into mine.
"Mr. Beaufort, you have been at this school for five years. In that time, you have
allowed yourself to do the most unacceptable things," he begins. "Without me holding
you accountable once. I turned a blind eye when you had a car race in the schoolyard. I
let you get away with it when you and your friends thought it would be a funny idea to
dress up the Founder's Statue in a cheerleading outfit and a wig. Or when you
created online dating profiles for me and other teachers. Or when you
had an unauthorized party at Boyd Hall. Not to mention the

countless times you showed up to official parties drunk. But you must
finally learn that your actions cause reactions. Maxton Hall College has
built a reputation over the last two centuries. We stand for discipline and
excellence, and I can't allow you to jeopardize that again and again
with your youthful recklessness." Now Lexington looks at Coach Freeman,
who nods briefly. Then his eyes are on me again.
A queasy feeling spreads in my stomach. "Mr. Beaufort, you are suspended

from the lacrosse team effective immediately for the remainder of
the term."
The blood rushes in my ears. I see Lexington open his mouth and
continue speaking, but not a single word reaches me.
Last season, an opposing player tackled me so hard with his
stick that we both hit the ground with full force - he with his full weight
on me. I had never felt such intense pain, and for half a minute I
was simply unable to breathe.
That's exactly how what's happening right now feels.

"The … you can't do that," I croak, hating how
how pathetic I sound. I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and force
the mask of impenetrability back onto my face, just like my father taught
me.
"Yes, Mr. Beaufort. I can," the principal replies calmly, folding his hands in front of
his stomach. "And before you threaten me with your parents - I already spoke to your
father this morning. He assured me that he supports any punishment I decide on." I
wasn't expecting that either. "Sir, with all due respect, it's our last season. I'm the team
captain, my boys need me." I look up at Coach Freeman, seeking help.
The regret in his eyes feels like a punch in the

Stomach. "You have only yourself to blame, Beaufort."
"Alistair is suspended for the next three games. If I'm not there..." "Cyril will step
in as
captain and I'll put one of the rookie players in your position."
My throat goes dry. I feel heat from anger shooting up my cheeks and my
hands start to shake. I clench them tightly into fists, digging my short nails into my skin
until it hurts and my knuckles crack.
»Please, Coach.« Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ruby

She seems to be terribly uncomfortable with the situation, but at this moment I
don't care what she thinks of me.
This is my last year of school. The last few months before my life goes completely
downhill. I would do anything for lacrosse - for this last, carefree time with my friends. Even
if that means I have to beg in front of Ruby Bell.
To my dismay, Coach Freeman refuses to budge. He

just shakes his head, both arms crossed over his chest.
"Ms. Bell, I trust you to explain everything about the events team to Mr. Beaufort,"
Principal Lexington continues, as if he hadn't just ruined my life. »He has to attend every
meeting, take part in every celebration until the term is over. If he refuses or causes you
problems, you'll come straight to me, understand?" "Yes, sir," Ruby says quietly but
firmly.
»When is the next meeting? Then Mr. Beaufort can write it down in his diary.” Ruby
clears her throat, and even though I really don't
want to, I turn my head to her.
Her gaze is hard. Mine is harder.

»The next meeting is today after lunch in room eleven of the
Library," she says, without any emotion in her voice.
I grit my teeth tightly. I'm desperately trying to find a way out of this situation,
but it's impossible. And I have no idea how to explain this to my parents.
This time I really messed up.
Ruby
"What?"
Lin shouts it so loudly across the group room that the people in the library can
probably all hear it. The rest of the team just stares at me in shock after my announcement.
“James Beaufort is now a member of the events team,” I repeat, just as neutrally
as the first time.
Lin bursts into loud laughter. After she has recovered
has calmed down, I start again: "Please behave normally if he comes soon." As I
finish my last sentence, I look at Jessalyn Keswick, who is just about to reapply her lip
gloss. The soft pink flatters her black skin, as does her entire makeup. Jessalyn is a
beautiful, charismatic person and captivates everyone - including me. I could look at
them for hours.
"What?" she asks with an innocent smile. "I just want to look my best when Beaufort
comes here." She blows me a kiss. I roll my eyes but pretend to catch it and then carefully
tuck it away in my pencil case. The rest of the team laughs.
»What does Lexington expect from this?« asks Kieran Rutherford, a boy a year
below us. With his pale skin, sharp, onyx-colored eyes and hair that's a little too long,
he looks like a vampire - a young Count Dracula with sharp features. He is also a
scholarship holder at Maxton Hall and, apart from Lin and me, the most
reliable and ambitious person on our team. »That we convert him and lead him back to the
right path?« Lin snorts. »Believe me, converting him won't help
anymore.« There he is. The reason why Lin is my best friend at Maxton Hall
is.
“Hey!” Camille interjects. It doesn't surprise me, after all
she is one of Elaine Ellington's best friends and part of James' clique. She also can't
stand Lin and me and hates that we were put in charge of the committee. I don't know
why she's still on the event team, but I suspect she just cares about the note on her
report card.
In any case, she doesn't contribute with passion and hard work.
“Whatever,” I say quickly, seeing that Lin has opened her mouth to say something.
»He will be at our meetings
participate whether we like it or not. I just wanted to warn you. He's also been suspended
from the lacrosse team for the remainder of the term." Jessalyn whistles approvingly.
“Lexington
really took action there.” A murmur of agreement goes through the room.
»Beaufort has it
“We don’t deserve it any other way,” says Lin. »We spent half the holiday planning
the back-to-school party and he ruined everything with his move. Besides, Ruby had to let
Lexington complain to her for half an hour today." "Seriously?" Kieran asks
incredulously.
When I nod, he says indignantly: »But it is not your fault that Beaufort brought
these people into the party.« I shrug my shoulders uncertainly.
»We organized the party,
so Lin and I are responsible for that. In addition, the entrance should have been
better controlled. Seen this way, we are partly to blame. He wants us to publicly
apologize on the Maxton blog so people know this wasn't our plan
was."
Which makes my anger at Beaufort even greater. I would,

I have never been reprimanded since I have been at Maxton Hall - by any
teacher, let alone the headmaster himself. If I am to have any hope of being accepted to
Oxford, I need a spotless record, and James's childish behaviour has put that at risk. I
am certainly not going to let my future be ruined by an idiot who has too much time and
money and doesn't know what to do with it.
»This is totally stupid and makes no sense at all. You are the
Last person who should take responsibility for this crap." Kieran frowns angrily.
I smile gratefully at him and ignore Lin's meaningful look. She's been trying to
convince me since the end of senior year that Kieran has a hopeless crush on me. But
that's complete nonsense.
He's just a nice guy.
I clear my throat. “Shall we get started then?” The others
nod at me and I point to the whiteboard, to the Lin
has already written the agenda items for today's meeting.
»First we should debrief the party – what went well, what didn’t?
Apart from Beaufort, of course. Camille, would you take minutes?" Camille gives me a
withering look, but opens her pad and picks up a pen. Lin begins to describe her
impressions of the party and I take a quick look at the clock. It's just after two o'clock now.
The lunch break is over. So Beaufort should be here any moment. An uneasy feeling
spreads in my stomach. It's fluttery and queasy, like I'm...excited.
I immediately push the thought aside and join in the discussion.

We need so much time for the feedback session and formulating future to-dos that we
have to postpone the remaining points until the end of the week. We distribute a few
more tasks among ourselves and then the meeting ends. Afterwards, Lin and I stay in
the group room to formulate the apology letter.
James Beaufort does not appear for the entire two and a half hours.
After Lin and I send the letter to Lexington, we say goodbye. Lin goes to her
car. Her home is not far from our school, but there is no bus that goes there, so her mother
gave her a small used car last summer.
My hometown is half an hour from Maxton Hall College. With its crumbling
facades and poorly maintained streets, Gormsey is the opposite of glamorous, but I
like living there. I don't even mind the daily bus ride to and from Pemwick, where
Maxton Hall College is based. In fact, it's the most relaxing time of the day for me. During
the ride, I don't have to be the Ruby who doesn't tell anyone about her family, or the
Ruby who can't share her experiences at school with her family. Instead, I'm just...
Ruby.
On the way to the bus stop, I pass the sports field where the lacrosse team is
practicing. As I walk past, I watch the players sprinting up and down the field in their gear.
The player with jersey number 17 catches my eye.

I stop abruptly. Then I step closer to the fence and hook my fingers
into the wire mesh.
This guy is trying to pull my leg.
I stare with my mouth open at Beaufort, who is running towards a ball
Cyril Vega passes. I can hear his stupid laugh from here. this... asshole!
At that …
very moment Beaufort turns around and spots me.
I can barely see what's happening on his face through the helmet, but his
posture changes. It stiffens, and he juts his chin out, almost a little
defiantly. That damn idiot! Behind me I hear the roar of the school bus
approaching. Despite the angry heat spreading in my stomach, I look away
from James and walk the rest of the way to the bus stop.
Let him do what he wants.
OceanofPDF.com
8th
Ruby
While Ember reads my personal statement for the Oxford application, I circle her purple
name in my calendar with the gold pen. Now Ember looks much more official and
celebratory as she looks over my statement.
»My passionate interest in politics, from the philosophical ones

Principles through to economic aspects in practice makes Philosophy, Politics and
Economics the perfect course of study for me. It connects all the areas that interest
me, and I relish the chance to study the most important issues of today's society in a depth
that only Oxford can offer," my sister reads aloud and then remains on her back for a
moment . She puts her pencil in her mouth and rolls onto her stomach on her bed to look
at me.
I hold my breath.
Ember starts grinning. I fish one of her wedge-heeled sandals off the ground and
throw it at her.
"Come on, Ember," I whisper. It's two in the morning and we should be in bed
by now. But I've been working on my statement until a few minutes ago, and since my
sister is nocturnal anyway and often works on her blog until the early hours, I sneaked
over to her room and asked her to read it.
"It's a bit rambling," she says just as quietly

I can hardly understand her because of the pen between her lips.
»That's how it should
be.« »It also sounds kind of pretentious. As if you wanted to brag about your
knowledge and all the specialist literature you've already read." "That's right too." I get
up and go
to her bed.
She hums thoughtfully and then circles a few spots on the sheet. "I would definitely
delete those spots," she says, holding it out to me. "You don't need to suck up to the
university and keep mentioning where you're applying. They already know that they're
Oxford. Even without you saying it twenty times."
My cheeks heat up. "That's true." I take the letter and place it on her desk along
with my planner. "You're a sweetheart, thank you."
Ember smiles. »No problem. And by the way, I already know exactly
how you can return the favor.«
It's always been like that between me and Ember. One does something for
the other and can then wish for something that the other will do for her, whereupon the
other will in turn do her a favor. It's a kind of barter, a constant back and forth of
favors. But if Ember and I are honest, we just enjoy helping each other.
“Go ahead.”
“You could finally take me to one of your Maxton Hall parties,” she suggests, with
a decidedly casual tone.
I stiffen.
It's not the first time Ember has asked me to do this, and every time
It hurts me all over again to have to disappoint her. Because it is the only favor I
will never do for her.
I will never forget the one parent-teacher conference where Mum and
Dad came to Maxton Hall to introduce himself to my teachers and meet the
parents of my classmates. It was awful. Aside from the fact that the main building is
hundreds of years old and the opposite of barrier-free, the looks from people couldn't
have been more disparaging. Mum and Dad had dressed up - but that day I learned that
Bell chic doesn't come close to Maxton Hall chic. While the other parents showed up in
costumes and Beaufort suits, my dad wore jeans and a jacket. My mum was wearing a
dress that was beautiful but still had flour from the bakery on it, which we only noticed
when an older lady gave it a disparaging look and then turned around to gossip about
it to her friend.
Even today it breaks my heart when I think of Mum’s painful

facial expression that she tried to hide behind a fake
to hide a smile. Or Dad's cocked chin as he failed his wheelchair on a

doorstep again and Mum and I had to help him. The two tried not to show how much they
hurt the other parents' wrinkled noses and turned backs. But they couldn't fool me.
That day I decided that from now on I would have two worlds - my family and Maxton
Hall - and that I would keep them carefully separate. My parents are not part of England's
elite, and that's a good thing. I never want to put them in a position where they feel so
uncomfortable again. They've been through enough after Dad's boating accident,
and the shit that's going on at Maxton Hall is the last thing they want to have to deal with.
And the same goes for Ember. My sister is like a firefly – she always
attracts attention with her colorful personality and outgoing nature. I know exactly
what can happen at Maxton Hall and have seen what the guys there are capable of
because they think they own the world. Some of the stories I've heard in the girls' bathroom
over the last two years have turned my stomach. That would n't happen to Ember.
I only want the best for my sister. And that definitely does not include my school
and its visitors.
»You know we don't let people from outside into the parties
can," I answer belatedly.
»Maisie was at the back-to-school party last weekend,«
Ember replies dryly. »She said it was legendary.« »Then she
sneaked in without security noticing. Besides, I already told you that the party was a
total disaster.« Ember frowns. »It didn't sound like a
Failure. Rather the opposite.” I press my

lips together tightly and close my planner.
"Come on, Ruby! How long are you going to keep me waiting? I promise to behave
myself. Really. I'll act like I belong there too."
Her words sting me. It hurts that she thinks I

I don't want her here because I'm afraid she might embarrass me. The hopeful
look she gives me makes my throat tighten.
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible," I say quietly.

From one second to the next, hope takes the place of a flash
Anger. "You're so stupid, really."
“Ember…”
“Just admit that you don’t want me at your stupid parties!” she says accusingly.
I can't answer. Lying is out of the question, and the truth would hurt her.
"If you knew what goes on behind the scenes at Maxton Hall, you wouldn't keep
asking me to come with you," I whisper.
»If you need anything again in the middle of the night, go to
“Your stupid school friends,” she hisses. Then she pulls the blanket over her head and
turns to face the wall.
I try to ignore the painful throbbing that is building up in my
chest. Silently, I take my planner and the paper from her desk, turn off the light and leave
the room.
The next day I feel exhausted and have to use concealer to cover up my dark
circles. After the fight with Ember, I couldn't sleep and stayed awake almost the whole
night. As always, Lin immediately notices that something is wrong, but she thinks it still has
something to do with Beaufort and the weekend disaster, and I let her believe it.
After class I go straight to the library. I

wants to use the half hour before the next meeting to return books and borrow a
few new ones that were not available the last few times.
The library is my favorite place in Maxton Hall and

where I have spent most of my time so far. With its vaulted ceiling and open gallery,
despite the shelves made of dark wood, it does not appear gloomy, but rather
inviting. As soon as you step through the door, you can feel that there is a welcoming,
productive atmosphere in which you simply have to feel comfortable.
Completely closed
not to mention the incredible selection of literature we have access to here. There
isn't a single book in the mini-library in Gormsey that would have helped me with my
personal statement, whereas here I was hopelessly overwhelmed at the beginning
with deciding which one was the best one to start with.
I've spent whole days in my favorite spot by the window,

firstly because it is the only place in Maxton Hall where I feel comfortable, and
secondly because you are not allowed to take the centuries-old books from the
reference collection home with you. Sometimes when I'm here I wish there were more
hours in my day. Or that I could stay longer than the end of school. For me it's like I'm
getting a taste of what awaits me in Oxford. Except that the libraries there – according to
the website – are even larger and better equipped. And open around the clock.
Working my way through the introductory literature on the site

University is nerve-racking. Many of the books are complicated works where I only
understand paragraphs after reading them several times. But it is also fun and I have got
into the habit of creating a little booklet for each book in which I summarize the content
and add my own thoughts and notes.
I am lucky and the three books I really want to read are

available again. After I've borrowed them, I go straight to our group room. I'm a little
early, but this way I can write the agenda on the whiteboard and sort out my notes. Because
we spent so much time discussing the back-to-school party on Monday, we have a
lot of catching up to do today.
I open the door with one hand while holding the books tightly to me with the
other hand. I put the small stack on a table. Before I even put my backpack down, I run my
fingers over the cover of Arend Lijphart's Patterns of Democracy.
"We have a date this weekend," I whisper.

Someone lets out a quiet snort.
I'm driving around. At the same moment my backpack slips from my arm and falls
to the ground with a loud rumble.
James is leaning on the windowsill at the other end of the room, both arms folded
across his chest. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
"It's a bit sad," he says.
I need a moment to compose myself. "What's sad?" I ask as I pick up my backpack

from the floor and place it on the table next to the books. One of the holes on the
bottom ruptured further on impact, and I cursed inwardly. I'll have to ask Ember if she can
help me sew.
»That you start the weekend with school stuff.« He slowly strolls towards me. »I
can think of better things to do.«
“What are you doing here?” I reply, unimpressed and ignoring his
to make an allusion.
“Were you not listening to Lexington? I have to start taking responsibility
to bear and realize that my actions have consequences." He repeats the principal's
words with a mocking smile.
I open my backpack and take out my planner, pencil case and committee folder
one by one. "And now you've suddenly decided to listen to what he's telling you?" James's
gaze is unreadable as he comes to a stop in front of me. In
At this moment I have no idea what he's doing. "It's not like I have a choice, right?"
I look at him skeptically. "The day before yesterday, you clearly made a choice."
He just
shrugs his shoulders. The coach probably reprimanded him after finding out that
James was at training. Serves him right.
"I'm here. Just be happy about it." At the same moment, he bends down and picks
something up from the floor - a pen. It must have fallen out of my backpack. James holds
it out to me. Since this gesture seems almost friendly to me, I clear my throat and look for
something to say to him.
"The detention is only for one term, James," I say, saying his first name for the first
time.
This changes his expression. Suddenly he no longer seems to just be looking
through me - he is looking straight into me. There's a fire in his gaze that burns into
me and sends shivers through my body. My stomach tingles with excitement. He
abruptly looks away and turns on his heel to go back to the back. “That doesn’t change the
fact that I hate this.”
My heart is pounding and I swallow hard as he sits on one of the chairs with his
arms crossed and looks outside.
I don't know what he means by "this." Whether it is the fact that
he can't play lacrosse. Or the fact that he has to spend his time here. Or maybe he
just means me. But I can live with that.
I have too much at stake to let some spoiled rich kid throw me off track. We're
both going through this now, whether we want to or not, and the sooner we accept that,
the easier it will be for us to get through this.
Without another word, I turn to the whiteboard and write down the
Agenda for today's meeting. It makes me nervous not knowing whether James is watching
me or not, but my pride doesn't allow me to turn around. Luckily, a little later the door to
the group room opens. “Sorry, our printer at home went crazy and I had to go back and
print out my statement, but now I have it and…” Lin stops mid-sentence when she spots
James.
“Hey,” he says.
I wonder if he greets everyone in the world like this.
He also says “Hey” to the lecturers when he is invited to the Oxford interviews.
“What is he doing here?” Lin asks me without taking his eyes off James.
"Start his punishment work," I say truthfully.

James says nothing. Instead, he leans down, opens his bag and pulls out a
notebook. He places it on the table in front of him. The book is black and leather-bound,
and the curved B, representing the Beaufort brand, is embossed on the cover . It
certainly costs a fortune. We were once in one of the Beaufort stores in London looking
for a new suit for Dad. That was a few years ago, when he still had to appear in court
frequently because of his accident. I can still remember the four-digit price tags, which
ensured that we didn't stay in the store for more than two minutes, but instead left
as inconspicuously as possible.
Next to me, Lin clears her throat. Caught, I tear my gaze away from James
Go ahead and curse the heat that has hit me again today
Cheeks rise. Thankfully, Lin is tactful enough not to comment on it.
»Here,« she says, holding out a sheet of transparent paper with several sheets
»My statement.«
I fish mine out of the folder and give it to her. »Here's mine. But
it's not perfect yet.«
»Mine neither,« says Lin. »That's why we read it against it. Do you think
you're going to be able to watch it tonight?'
»Definitely. We can do it tomorrow in the free period after math
go through it.« I immediately take out the gold pen and write down Lin's statement read
and correct in my planner.
»I feel very honored that my name is there with the Ultra Pen
says Lin quietly and grins at me. I return her smile and then write the rest of the
agenda on the board as our team gradually arrives. Everyone looks at James warily from
the side, except for Camille, who greets him with kisses on both cheeks.
After everyone has arrived, we start the meeting.

“The most important point today is actually our second big event this school
year,” Lin begins, her face lighting up. “Halloween.” Kieran lets out a quiet, ghostly “Uh-
huuu,” and a laugh
goes around.
"The masquerade ball was very well received last year," Lin continues, opening a
slideshow from the previous year on her laptop. She turns the screen and holds it up so
the others can see the pictures.
»Can't we just do the same thing again? I mean,
“If it went down so well,” suggests Camille. “It would save us a lot of work.” “Out of
the question.” Lin
looks at her in dismay, and Camille simply shrugs. Meanwhile, I go to the right side
of the whiteboard, which is still free, and write Halloween in the middle. Then I draw a
circle around the word.
»We need to agree on a motto today,« explains Lin. »Let us

“Just brainstorm, right?” There’s silence
for a brief moment.
"I only know what I don't want," Jessalyn finally begins.
»Out with it. That way we can narrow it down,« I say and
signal to her to get started.
»I definitely don't want orange. Black and orange decorations look like a child’s
birthday party, that doesn’t suit Maxton Hall at all.”
I nod and write stylish decoration in the upper right corner of the whiteboard.
"How about black and white?" suggests Doug. He is the quietest member of
our team and hardly ever speaks up, so I am pleasantly surprised by his suggestion. I
smile at him and turn to the board.
“Black and White is exhausted.” Suddenly

the room is as quiet as a mouse.
I slowly turn around again. James sits leaning back
his chair, his relaxed posture in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that
suddenly prevails in the room.
“Excuse me?” Lin says what is going through my head.
“Black and White is exhausted,” James repeats, just as dryly as the first time.
“I heard you,” Lin hisses.

He frowns at her. »Then I don't understand the question.« »We're brainstorming,
Beaufort. We throw ideas into the room and
write them all down, without comment, in order to arrive at the solution through
spontaneous ideas," I explain as calmly as possible.
"I know what a brainstorming session is, Bell," he replies, nodding his chin at the
whiteboard. "And I'm telling you, it's not going to work." "Says the guy who thinks you need
strippers to keep the mood going," Kieran mutters.
»I only did that because I knew how lame your party would be.« Nobody says anything,
but I can feel the mood in the room
becomes more and more charged. Everyone except Camille is staring at James with
angry eyes, but he doesn't seem to care at all. He looks around with raised eyebrows.
"Come on. You must have noticed that yourself." "If you really believe that, then you don't
have them all anymore," says Kieran, and
Jessalyn nods in agreement.
“Guys,” I interrupt. I look at them both in dismay. "Pull yourself together." James's
mouth twitches suspiciously and I judge
the pen in my hand like a weapon at him. »You don't have to grin at all. We spent a lot
of the holidays planning this party. She wasn’t lame.”
James leans forward in the chair, both arms on the table

supported. "That depends."
It feels like a vein on my forehead is starting to throb. "Oh yeah?" He nods.
"And why, if you don't mind me asking?" Lin asks bittersweetly. I know that
tone. It doesn't bode well and gives me unpleasant goosebumps.
James raises a hand and counts. »The buffet looked cheap. The music was
shit. There was no fixed dress code. And the mood arose much too late.
I can practically feel Lin starting to shake next to me. If we were alone, I would
wring James' neck for his harsh criticism. There was so much work put into this party by
everyone in this room, it's not fair to dismiss it as a complete failure. Especially
since it's not true. But as a team leader, I have to react somewhat calmly. And there
were a few points that didn't go optimally, which we discovered during our follow-up
on Monday.
“I agree with you about the music,” I say in a calm voice. »She wasn't
perfect. But people danced anyway, so I wouldn’t call it a complete failure.”
»Because that's what you do at a party. But the mood was

Not nearly as good as it could have been with decent music.”
Three years ago, at my old high school, I attended a conflict resolution seminar.
The course lasted five afternoons and taught us methods for resolving conflicts. I don't
remember everything, but one thing stuck in my mind: that you have to make all parties
feel heard and channel the energy generated by an argument toward what matters.
With this resolution in mind, I take a deep breath and then look at James. »I hear
your criticism and will take it to heart. However, that doesn't change the fact that we're
still in the process of finding a theme for Halloween. I really like Doug's suggestion and
will note it down. Just as I will note any further suggestions so that we can...
At the end we can see what fits best and what doesn’t.” With these words I write
Black and White on the board. Then I turn around again. “Any more suggestions?” “Okay,
I have an idea,” Jessalyn interjects, raising her hands
as if
she would have a groundbreaking vision. »Classically chic with a spooky
touch. Grave lights, black flowers. A modernized version of the traditional Halloween
party.«
I write it down immediately.
»That's just as boring.« »If you
have nothing to contribute, just shut up, Beaufort,«
hisses Lin.
“A red and black vampire party,” suggests Kieran.
“Also lame,” James mutters.
I will get through this. I will not put a pen in his eye
ram.
"What's particularly lame is how you keep badmouthing our suggestions,"
Jessalyn counters. "Why don't you make one yourself for a change instead of radiating your
negative energy here?"
James sits up and looks at his notebook. I doubt,
that there is even one word in it that has anything to do with planning a Halloween
party.
»My suggestion is a Victorian party. Weston Hall would be
perfect for that. You could get original crockery and cutlery from the period, punch
bowls, lace napkins and so on. Preferably in black. The primary light sources would be
candles - as they were back then - which would create a spooky atmosphere. You would
of course have to be careful not to burn down the school, but with the right fire safety
precautions it should be possible. The dress code would be decadent and classy in keeping
with the era. And there are loads of games that the Victorians played on Halloween. You
could incorporate these into the process."
After James finishes, the room is silent for a moment.
»That is … a really great idea," I say hesitantly.

His eyes sparkle as he looks at me. »I thought we were just writing
and don’t comment?”
I avoid his gaze and write the suggestion on the board.
"I once read that in the nineteenth century they baked cakes for such occasions in
which five different objects were hidden," says Kieran. "Those who had the objects in
their cakes were predicted to have great luck. We could modernize that and give
a reward to those who get one of the pieces." "But then announce it beforehand.
Not that anyone
“Swallowed,” Camille replies, wrinkling her nose.

“What music should we play?” asks Jessalyn.
“How about classical music with a little twist?” I suggest.
"But not your weird classical-electro-dubstep remixes," groans Lin.
"Hey! They're cool. Plus, they help me concentrate." Everyone on

the team looks at me skeptically. I turn to Kieran for help, who shares my taste in
music in most cases. "Come on, Kieran. Tell them."
»There are great remixes of Victorian music. I recently

Heard a good one from Caplet.”
I smile gratefully and mouth “Send me the link.”
“Well, I would organize an orchestra,” James interjects. "And for
rehearse a dance at the beginning of the party.”
A murmur of approval goes through the room, where I
gets a little bad. I can't dance at all.
“Okay, listening to it, it almost seems like we have
"We decided on a topic," says Lin, sounding as surprised as I feel at this moment.
She points to the whiteboard. »I would still like to have a

make a vote. Which of you is for Black and White?" Nobody answers.
“Who for the classic-chic party?” Again, no

reports.
"What about the wicked vampire party?" No hands go up.
“What do you say about a Victorian-style Halloween party?” I ask, and before I even
finish the sentence there are four
Arms raised. James looks for a moment as if he is too stupid to speak up,
but eventually does so.
I didn't expect the turn this meeting took. I look at Lin with raised eyebrows.
"I'd say we have a theme for this year's Maxton Hall Halloween."
OceanofPDF.com
9
James
Percy parked the Rolls-Royce right on the forecourt of the school's main entrance. He
stands leaning against the car, his cell phone in one hand, his hat in the other. The
silver strands that run through his dark hair seem to grow more and more every day.
When he sees me, he immediately puts his cell phone away, puts his hat back on and
stands up straight. That's not actually necessary, and he knows it.
I walk down the steps and the people around me are willing to get out of my way.
Apparently I look as bad as I feel. It's all the fault of that damn event committee!
I already regret not having kept my mouth shut and the suggestion of the Victorian party to
myself. When I think of the list of to-dos that the others formulated afterwards, I feel very
strange. If I were to throw the party at home, I could delegate everything to service
providers and wouldn't have to lift a finger myself. But in this case, I am the service
provider, as Ruby made clear to me with raised eyebrows.
I just want to scream when I think that I still have a whole term of these meetings
ahead of me. Apart from the fact that I find it unbearable not to be able to take part in
training anymore.
This is definitely not how I imagined my last year of school to be.

When I get to the car, all I really want to do is get on it
back seat, but before I can get in, Percy grabs my arm.
"Sir, you look like you're not in a good mood." "You have great
powers of observation, Percy." He looks uncertainly between me and the
car door.
“You might want to temper your temper a bit. Ms. Beaufort is not in good shape.”
The stupid event team is instantly forgotten. "What happened?" Percy looks
hesitant for a
moment, as if he wasn't sure what to tell me and what not to tell me. Finally he
takes a step towards me and says quietly: “She was just talking to someone. A young
man. It looked like an argument." I nod and Percy opens the door so I can get in the
car.
Luckily the windows are tinted. Lydia looks terrible.

Her eyes and nose are bright red, and tears have left dark gray streaks on her cheeks.
She has never cried as much as she has in the last few weeks, and it makes me incredibly
angry to see her like this and at the same time know that there is nothing I can do about it.
Lydia and I have always been inseparable. When you have a

When you have a family like ours, you have no choice but to stick
together, no matter what happens. I can only remember a few days in my life when I
didn't see my twin sister. Whenever she feels bad, I get a strange feeling in my chest - and
she feels the same way. Our mother explained to us that this is often the case
with twins and made us promise early on that we would value this connection throughout
our lives and not carelessly endanger it.
"What's wrong?" I ask after Percy starts the car.

She does not answer.
»Lydia…«
»It’s none of your business,« she hisses.
I raise an eyebrow and look at her until she turns away from me and
staring out the window. That seems to be the end of our conversation.
I lean back and look outside too. The colorful ones
The discolored trees pass us by so quickly that they become a blur, and I wish
Percy would slow down. Not only because the thought of home makes me sick,
but mostly to give me more time to break Lydia's silence.
I would like to help her, but I have no idea how. Over the last few weeks I've
tried everything to find out what happened between her and Mr Sutton, but she turns it
down every time. Actually, I shouldn't be surprised. We may be inseparable, but about
ourselves
We have never discussed our love life. There are just things you don't want to know about
your sister - and vice versa. But this time it's different. She's devastated, and so I've only
seen her once before, almost exactly two years ago. And back then it almost
destroyed our family.
“Graham is going crazy,” Lydia whispers suddenly, when I’m no longer expecting it.
I turn back to her and wait for her to continue.

The anger I feel towards this scumbag of a teacher bubbles up within me once
again, but I push it back. I don't want Lydia to close herself off to me any more than she
already does.
"I'm so scared Ruby will tell Lexington," she croaks, her voice nasal.
"She won't do that." "How do

you know?" I see in her eyes the same skepticism I felt toward Ruby when I first
met her.
"Because I'm still keeping an eye on her," I answer after a while.
Lydia doesn't look convinced. "You can't keep chasing her, James." "I don't have
to. She’s on the events
team.” Lydia looks at me in surprise and I smile crookedly.
It's good to see how the tension seems to fall off her shoulders, not completely,
but at least a little bit.
After a while she says quietly: “I completely forgot about the event team thing. How
much does it suck?” I just grumble.
"Have you talked to Dad yet?" she asks cautiously.

I shake my head and look out the window at the moment when
the Rolls-Royce comes to a stop. The facade of our mansion towers in front of us,
the gloomy sky with the heavy clouds above it a reflection of my mood and what lies
ahead of me today.
"How would you describe me in three words?" Alistair asks over the music blaring from
my stereo. He's sitting on the sofa, bent over his phone, his blond curls falling over his
forehead as he tilts his head to the side and looks at the screen.
I have just made us two gin and tonics and come back to the sofa with the
glasses. Without looking up, Alistair reaches out and takes one from me.
This is our third round, and the blurry feeling in my head that I've
been waiting for all this time finally sets in. It makes me forget that the others are at
lacrosse practice. And most of all, it blocks out the memory of the last two hours. My
father's voice is already just a faint noise.
"How about 'overly horny stud'?" Alistair grins. »That

would be correct. But I come with humility
probably further.«
Laughing, I collapse onto the sofa next to him. I can't shake the impression that
he had already had a drink or two when I wrote to him and asked if he wanted to come
over.
Apparently the fact that he's suspended from the team doesn't leave him as unaffected
as he would like us to believe.
Anyway, he burst into my living room with the announcement,
to stay away from Maxton Hall types from now on and instead take a closer
look at "this online dating thing." He said this with a big grin, as if he wasn't really serious
and was only creating the profile because he was bored.
But I know him well enough to know that he is anything but indifferent about the
matter. He's tired of the guys at Maxton Hall because they only want to make out with him
in secret. Unlike most of them, Alistair has been open about his sexuality for two years
now, much to the dismay of his asshole parents, who have treated him like an outcast
ever since.
If he finds someone online who doesn't make him feel like a dirty secret, I'm all
for it. Especially since it distracts me from my own problems, and that's very
convenient for me right now.
“Does it have to be exactly three words?” I ask. He shakes his head. ›nice guy,
“Then … lacrosse, sporty and looking for hot ones
dates, blah blah.”
He grins crookedly. "Blah, it's okay." I slide a
little closer to him, gin and tonic sloshing out of my glass and running over my hand. I
curse and wipe it on my pants and then look at Alistair's phone. When I see the draft of his
profile, I laugh.
“What?” he asks challengingly.

"You're not five foot five, liar." He snorts. “Yes.” “I'm
five foot four and you're
half a head shorter than that
me, man. Take off ten centimeters and you might be right."
He elbows me in the side and the alcohol lands again
my fingers. “Don’t be such a damn killjoy.”
"Okay, okay." I take three long sips from my glass and set it down on the table.
Then I grab my laptop from the coffee table, open it, and start looking for profile
descriptions that sound somewhat reasonable.
Asking Alistair if he wanted to come was exactly the right decision. He

immediately had his driver bring him and from then on did nothing but distract me
- without asking a single question.
"Oh God," I murmur.

Alistair makes a questioning sound and leans towards me to look at it
To be able to see the screen of my laptop.
I turn it slightly towards him. »I wanted to get inspiration for your
profile description, but now I wish I had never clicked on that link. Who's going to
write 'Ideally I'd do it with my twin, but since I'm an only child, you'll have to do' in their
description?" Alistair sputters. »I'm already tired of it. I write
just 18, lacrosse, open to anything.«

"No, man," I say, shaking my head. "'Open to anything' is practically a license for
strange requests." He just shrugs. After a few
minutes, without looking up from his phone, he says, "By the way, Elaine asked
about you."
I raise an eyebrow but don't say anything. It's the first time Alistair has brought up
the subject since Wren's party, and I can't tell from his voice whether this is going to be a
serious conversation or not.
»She's worried about your young, fragile heart and wanted
I'll know if you still think about her often." Okay,
definitely not serious.
“As if,” I reply. I doubt Elaine gave a single thought to our night together. It's
probably Alistair who can't let the topic go because I've awakened his brotherly protective
instinct.
»I still can't believe you had sex with my sister

“He shakes his head and makes a choking noise. »Can't you get engaged to her after
all? I think I could handle the whole thing better then.”
I give him a slap on the shoulder, grinning. »If I

"If I get engaged to someone, it's definitely not so you can sleep better." Alistair
sighs in mock
desperation. Then he holds out his cell phone to me: "Then can you at least help
me with which picture I should take?" He shows me two, one in which he is shirtless
and
with him behind
head and arms folded on a lounger, another in black and white in which he has
photographed himself in the mirror and is wearing a suit.
“The one on the lounger,” I say. "You're wearing too much on the other
one." "I like your team spirit, Beaufort."
After that, the topic of Elaine is thankfully crossed off and I come and get us
a fourth round of gin and tonics. We toast and Alistair returns to his new hobby
while I half-heartedly scroll through my email program.
I freeze when I see that I have received an invitation from the Beaufort
Offices . I reluctantly open the email, which says nothing except: Next Friday, 7 p.m.,
business lunch with the sales management in London. Be on time.
From one moment to the next my good mood disappeared. Instead,

an ice-cold shiver runs down my spine,
as memories of the argument with my father this afternoon come back.
You're embarrassing us.
We have a reputation to lose.

Childish, stupid boy.
I'm annoyed that I flinched when he raised his hand
hand came to me because I actually know better: in the presence of Mortimer
Beaufort you show neither weakness nor fear.
The appointment is nothing more than a punishment. He is fully aware that he is
hurting me more than his words or his punches ever could.
We actually have an agreement: as long as I go to Maxton Hall, he will leave me alone
with anything that concerns our company. The fact that I have to attend this dinner is his
way of telling me: "I'm in charge of your life, and if you don't pull yourself together, it will be
over sooner than you think."
Frustrated, I push the laptop off my lap and walk to the bar.
I pour myself a tumbler full of whiskey and stare into the brown liquid for a moment. Then
I turn around and take it with me to the sofa.
Alistair looks at me. There is no trace of the grin from before left on his face.
"Everything OK?"
I shrug my shoulders.
I wanted Alistair to come over so I could forget about my father - not to talk about it.
Alistair doesn't ask. Instead he holds out his cell phone to me. “I have a match.”
The display shows a picture of a black-haired guy with plenty of muscles.
I slide down a little on the sofa until I can put my head

can lean back. »What does his description say?«
»That he needs someone to take care of his heart. And his penis.« »How creative.«
»Oh. And he has
… also just sent me a picture of his cock. How about you tell me
your name before you show me your genitals?" Alistair murmurs, and I laugh despite
myself.
This is one of the reasons why Alistair is one of my best friends

is. If I wanted, I could talk to him about what was playing on repeat in my head. I could
talk to him about anything - but I don't have to. We've been friends for so long now that
we're attuned to each other and know and respect our boundaries, even if we like to test
them from time to time. I doubt I could build a friendship like that again with anyone
else.
“Are you hungry?” I ask after a while.

Alistair says yes and I call downstairs in the kitchen. After the argument
with my father, I lost my appetite and now feel completely starved.
While we wait for the kitchen help to bring us food upstairs, Alistair continues
looking at photos of half-naked guys and I scroll through my blog list on my laptop. In
addition to a few lacrosse sites and friends' blogs, I've been following mostly travel
blogs for the past few months. Hardly anything allows me to switch off as easily as
reports and pictures from foreign countries. I mark some of the new entries for later - I'm
too drunk to be fully receptive now.
I also saved the school blog on my list.

Actually, I only wanted to make fun of it, but when I see the writing in the timeline,
Ruby's face suddenly appears in my mind's eye. My stomach does a little jump and I
don't know if it's due to hunger, the alcohol or maybe something else.
My index finger takes on a life of its own and I open the blog.
Little by little I click through the school’s events –
all boring - I skim through articles - unbearably unimaginative - and look at the photos
looking for Ruby's face. Although her name appears on many posts and she is
mentioned by name at the school's events, she does not appear in a single picture. Soon
after Lydia told me that she and Sutton had been caught by Ruby, I googled her
and tried to find out as much about her as I could online. But there was nothing there.
She doesn't have a single account, neither on Facebook nor on Twitter nor on Instagram
- at least not under her real name.
Ruby Bell is a phantom.

I keep scrolling. I've searched for the last year now and still haven't
found what I'm looking for. Whatever it is. The longer I look, the angrier I
get. Why the hell is there nothing to be found about her?
“Are you looking at the school blog ?” Alistair suddenly asks.

I look up, caught. Alistair looks at my laptop with a disgusted
expression on his face. But when his eyes fall on the word I typed into the browser's small
search field, his face suddenly lights up. "Oh, that's right." "What?" His grin widens. “If I tell the
others.” I close my laptop. "There's nothing to tell."
Alistair's
answer is interrupted by the knock of our housekeeper Mary, who brings us
food. As she drives the little cart into my room, I stagger to my feet to refill my
glass. Now, in addition to my father's voice, I also have to push the image of Ruby's
smug face out of my mind.
OceanofPDF.com
10
Ruby
The pink font in my planner taunts me. In fact, she says I should ask
Beaufort about Victorian clothing. Unfortunately, I don't want to do that at all.
I overdosed on James Beaufort this week and am

ready for the weekend. Ever since we decided on the theme for the
Halloween party, he has been misbehaving during our meetings.
Either he makes one nasty comment after another, or he ignores us
completely. I wouldn't care if we hadn't decided yesterday that the
poster we wanted to create for the celebration should feature a couple in
authentic Victorian clothing. And the easiest way to get such costumes quickly
and, above all, for free is through the Beauforts and their huge archive.
After the meeting, Lin and I drew lots to decide which of us would choose James
I have to ask him for the favor - of course I lost. Since then I've been thinking
about how I can best approach him about it. Maybe I'll just write an email. Then I
wouldn't have to ask him in front of everyone else and probably get a scolding.
I close my planner with full force and shove it into my backpack.
“We can swap,” Lin suggests, shouldering her own bag. Then she
grabs her tray, puts it on top of mine and takes both to take them to the
dish return.
I briefly consider whether the alternative – listening to an hour-long
lecture on fire safety regulations from Lexington – is better
were.
“Wait a minute,” says Lin as we walk out of the cafeteria and towards the
Go to a learning center. "I take it back. I don't want to swap." "It's a
shame. I would have done it
immediately.” The campus is bathed in golden-red autumn light,
and the first leaves on the oak trees are starting to turn from a rich green to a delicate yellow
or go dark red.
"Come on. It's not that bad now." "Says the one who screamed
'Jackpot' when she won the fire safety lecture in the draw," I say dryly.
She grins caughtly. »I just find him so arrogant. I mean, by the time the term is over,
he's a full member of our team. Then he can contribute something, right? Especially since
the whole thing was his suggestion." "Yes. Unfortunately, it was a really good suggestion."
I hold my student
ID card in front of the learning center door until the little light in the knob
lights up green. Then I open it and let Lin go first.
The study centre is a small building that is only used by the Sixth Form. You can
meet here if you want to prepare presentations or need a quiet place to study for your
final exams. Today, the first meeting of a study group is taking place in one of the
tutorial rooms. The aim is to prepare us for the upcoming application process in
Oxford.
"Oh," says Lin quietly as we enter the room, at the same moment,
in which I stiffen myself.
Speaking of the devil.
The room seats twenty, and the only people here are Keshav, Lydia, Alistair,
Wren, Cyril, and... James. There are also two girls and a guy I only know by sight, and
a young woman who I assume is our tutor. She is the only one who greets us.
I go to one of the places furthest from Beaufort's clique. Lin follows me and sits next
to me. I mechanically unpack my planner, my pens and the new notepad that I bought
especially for this study group. As I arrange everything on the table in front of me - it has
to be parallel to the edge of the table - I try with all my might to pretend that the others
don't exist. I don't want anything to do with James and certainly nothing to do with his friends.
Just the thought of having to compete with people like him in the application process,
people who come from extremely rich families where entire generations studied at Oxford,
makes me sick.
I don't know how Lin feels about this compared to me. She wasn't part of James' clique
at the time, but she moved in his circles because she was friends with Elaine Ellington and
a few other girls from the year above us. But then her father left her mother for another
woman - who turned out to be a marriage fraud a little later. Within a year he lost his entire
fortune to her, which was a huge scandal at the time and the reason why
no one wanted anything to do with the Wangs anymore. Neither professionally, socially,
nor at this school.
In order for Lin to continue attending Maxton Hall, her mother had to sell her
country estate and move to a smaller house near Pemwick. Although the two of them still
live in four times as many square meters as us, it must have been an incredible change
for Lin back then. Not only did she suddenly lose her family and the life she had known
until then, but above all all her friends.
Most of the time, Lin acts as if none of this had ever happened. As if it had never
been any different. But sometimes I can see a hint of longing in her eyes, which makes
me suspect that she misses her old life. Especially when I see how wistfully she looks at
the empty seat next to Cyril. I've been wondering for a while whether the two of them
used to have something going on, but every time I steer the conversation even remotely
in that direction, Lin immediately changes the subject. I can't blame her, after all, I hardly
ever tell anyone anything private about myself. But I'm still curious sometimes.
My gaze wanders to James as if by itself. While his friends

Conversing and seeming to be constantly moving, he sits completely still in his
chair. Wren is talking to him, but I'm pretty sure he's not listening. I wonder what thoughts
are responsible for the scowl on his face.
"It's nice that you're all here," the tutor begins, and I tear my eyes away from
James. “My name is Philippa Winfield, but you can call me Pippa. I am currently in the
second semester of my studies at Oxford and had to go through the application process at
that time. That’s how I know how you’re feeling right now.”
Wren mumbles something that makes Cyril laugh. He disguises it with a

clearing of his throat. They're probably talking about how pretty Pippa is. With her dark
blonde, wavy bob and porcelain complexion, she almost looks like a doll. A
beautiful, expensive doll.
»In the coming weeks I will help you prepare for this
Thinking Skills Assessment and prepare the interviews. The TSA is a two-hour test that
you have to take for certain courses at Oxford. It helps the university determine
whether you have the skills and critical thinking skills to study there." The test is on my
calendar for just after Halloween, and I
I'm already nervous when I think about the tasks that await us. Over the next thirty
minutes, Pippa explains to us how the test is structured and how much time we will have for
each part of the task - all things that I already know. I don't want to know anything
about how the test works, I want to learn how to pass it. As if Pippa had read my thoughts,
she finally claps her hands. "The best thing to do is to look at an example question that
could be used for the text task. It helped me a lot back then to discuss certain questions
with other applicants, because we all have different ways of thinking and that can
sometimes be really enlightening. So I thought it would be best to do the same here."
She opens her folder and takes out a stack of papers, which she hands out to us. "On
page two you will find the first question. You," she says, pointing to Wren, who has
already whispered something again. "Read the question out loud, please." "With
the greatest pleasure," he replies with a cheeky smile before picking up his paper and
reading: "The first question is: If you can give reasons for your actions, does that mean
your actions are rational?" Lin's arm shoots up.
"You don't have to speak up, I'm starting an open discussion," says Pippa
and nods to Lin.
“All actions have an emotional origin,” begins mine
girlfriend. »It is always said that you should think and make the intelligent
decision instead of listening to what your heart says
tells you, but ultimately all decisions are guided by feelings and are therefore not rational.«
"That would be a very short essay," says Alistair, and his friends laugh. All
except James. He blinks several times, as if he had just woken up from a dream.
"It's a theory that can now be further developed or refuted by one of you," says
Pippa.
»To answer the question, we must first
"We have to define what 'rational' actually means in this context," says Lydia
suddenly. There is a pen stuck behind her ear, and she holds the piece of paper with the
question in her hands in front of her. Which course of study is she applying
for?
“Rationality means thinking or behavior characterized by reason,” Kesh
murmurs.
“In this context, rationality means reason,” I say.
»But reason is something subjective. How should reason be defined when every
person has different rules, principles and values?" "I would say, however, that
everyone has more or less the same basic set of values," Wren interjects.
I shrug my shoulders uncertainly. »I think it depends on

who you are brought up by and which people are around you." "Everyone learns
from an early
age that they are not allowed to kill other people and so on. If you act
according to these principles, it is objectively rational,” he replies.
»But not every action can be traced back to these principles

“We need to be patient,” Lin points out.
»So if I do something that destroys me, but I...
knows that it follows a certain principle - then that is a rational decision?" asks
Lydia. I look at her confused, but her gaze is fixed on the piece of paper with the
questions.
»If it corresponds to your basic understanding of reason, then yes,«
I answer after a short pause. »This shows clearly how different people's principles
can be.
I would never willingly do anything that would destroy me.”
“So is my basic understanding of reason less valuable than yours?”
Lydia suddenly looks very angry. Red spots appear
her pale cheeks.

»By that I mean that I believe that an action cannot be rational if it causes harm to
someone. Be it yourself or someone else. But that is only my standard.« »And your
standard is higher than that of other people. Right?« I look at
James in surprise. He spoke so quietly that I could hear him.
almost didn't hear it. He no longer looks like his mind is somewhere else. Now he's
right here, in this room, his cold gaze fixed on me.
I grip my pen tightly. »I am not referring to myself, but to the fact that everyone
thinks and acts differently.« »Let's assume I were to smuggle strippers into a party to
“To set the mood and give everyone present a nice evening,” says James slowly.
"Then that would be a clearly rational decision, judging by your understanding of
the question." Any moment now my pen will break in half. "That wasn't a
rational
decision, it was just immoral and shit." "It's best not to use words like 'shit' in the
essay or in the applicant interviews," Pippa interjects.
"You are differentiating in a way that is not being asked here," James replies
dryly. "For example, if you have two job offers, one of which pays you more, but you would
be happier in the lower-paying job, the rational decision would be to choose the better-
paying job." "If one acts according to a monetary principle of reason,
which shouldn't be a surprise for you." My body is flooded with energy and it seems
as if no one else exists in this room except James and me.
Now he raises an eyebrow. »First of all, you don't know me at all.

Secondly, it is the rational act of choosing the better-paying job." "Why, if I may ask?" He
looks me straight
in the eye. "Because no one in this
world is interested in you if you don't have money." As he speaks, I become aware of
the worn soles on my shoes and also my backpack,
which has holes in it.
Anger flares up inside me, blazing and fast. “That’s how you know who raised you.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, his voice dangerously calm.

I shrug. “If you're told from a young age that no one would be interested in you
if you didn't have money, it's clear that you act based on reason and nothing else matters.
Pretty pathetic, actually."

A muscle in his jaw begins to twitch. »You should
It's better not to say anything more, Ruby."
“You won’t be able to shut anyone’s mouth in Oxford either.
Maybe you should get used to being rejected, or get used to the idea of being rejected.
Even then, you shouldn't have any problems, after all, you're still rich and the world is
interested in you."
James flinches as if I'd slapped him. The room is dead quiet. The only thing I hear
is my own racing heartbeat and the roaring noise in my ears. The next second, James
stands up so abruptly that his chair tips over backwards and crashes to the floor. I hold my
breath as he leaves the room with long strides and slams the door behind him.
Suddenly I become aware of my surroundings again.

James' friends blink perplexedly, as if wondering what the hell just happened.
Meanwhile, Lydia's face is full of unspeakable shock. A cold shiver runs down my spine.
I slowly come down from my adrenaline rush and realize what I just said.
So much for staying invisible. Instead of a professional discussion, I got personal

because James made me angry. What he said is true. I really don't know him. And I have
no right to say things like that to him just because he's acting like a headless bastard.
That doesn't make me any better than him.
What the hell has gotten into me?
OceanofPDF.com
11
James
The pattern that runs across my paper now looks pretty impressive. The sharp black
spikes, small spirals and wild circles look almost three-dimensional. As if you only have
to reach out your hand to be drawn into the picture. I am always surprised at what can
come out of doodling. And how successfully it distracts you - for example from the fact
that my boys are just a few hundred meters away on the sports field, training for the
game next weekend. Or from the fact that I still have to spend exactly one hour and
eleven minutes in this room.
»James!« I
look up. All the people from the event team are looking at me
at. "What?"
"He didn't even listen!" Jessalyn exclaims, looking at Ruby indignantly, as if it were
her fault that I don't feel like going to these pointless meetings.
"Then I'll say it again," Ruby says calmly, looking at me from across the table. "We
need costumes to take the photo for our poster. There's a rental shop in Gormsey, but you
can tell the clothes aren't original, they're made of plastic." "Gormsey?" I ask, confused.
“My place of residence,” she explains slowly.

Never heard of it.
I find myself wondering what kind of house
Where Ruby lives. What her parents look like. Whether she has siblings.
Things that shouldn't interest me.
»We said last time that we wanted to make the photo as authentic as
possible. But it's not that easy, good
Costumes. Beaufort has been around for a good hundred and fifty years, hasn't it?'
She tries her best
to speak kindly to me, but that doesn't change the all too familiar cold feeling that
runs through my veins.
I know what's coming next.

“Do you think you could ask your parents if they could loan us some period
clothing?” I wish I could just keep scribbling in my notebook.
Or it would be somewhere else – in lacrosse, for example. Nobody wants anything

from me there, I can just run, ram, execute maneuvers, score goals and be free.
I can forget on the field.
Here I am reminded of who I am and what lies in my future.
I clear my throat. "Unfortunately I can't do that." Ruby
looks as if she was expecting the answer. "OK. May I ask why?" "No, you're not
allowed." "So in
other words that means you
don't want to help us," she says, trying to be calm.
»It doesn't make a difference whether you can or want to. My answer remains the
same.” Her nostrils
flare slightly as she struggles to maintain her composure. She doesn't quite succeed,
and watching her do it is kind of amusing. I try to ignore the fact that she's really pretty.
I've never seen a face like hers: her button nose doesn't match the proud line around
her mouth, her cat eyes don't match the freckles on her nose, and her straight bangs
don't match her heart-shaped face. But in a strange way, it all comes
together perfectly. And it gets sexier the more I see her.
I can't explain why I was so out of control yesterday

It wasn't the first time someone had accused me of being a rich, spoiled bastard. It
wasn't even the first time Ruby had accused me of that. I don't know why her words affected
me so much, but they did something to me - and I didn't like it. I don't know myself like
that - and neither do my friends. None of them have spoken to me about the incident today,
even though
I was hoping they would have fun teasing me with my reaction and take the
seriousness out of it. But through her silence and meaningful looks, Ruby's words only
gained more weight and meaning.
I groan inwardly. I wanted to enjoy my last year of school, damn it, not worry
about anything or anyone and just have fun. Instead, I'm not allowed to play
lacrosse, I have to sit in this crappy group room where the air is insanely bad,
and listen to Ruby tell me that I
…
Ruby snaps in front of my eyes.
"Sorry," I say, rubbing my face with both hands.
»What?«
»Guys, we can do without him,« says Kieran, annoyed.
»I could easily do without you, but unfortunately I have to
to the end of the term," I reply, looking at him coldly.
“James!” Ruby shouts angrily.
»What? I'm just being honest.« »There
are times in life when honesty is inappropriate.« I'm on the verge of replying: »That's
the right thing to say.« But I hold back. I find it kind of harsh when she
speaks to me so sternly. Which is probably because I haven't been out partying with
the guys for two weeks and have too much energy pent up inside me. I urgently need to
get my mind off things. As discreetly as possible, I take my cell phone out of my
pocket and send a message to our group. Party at my place tonight.
"Let's just get costumes from the rental shop," Lin suggests.
»With a little Photoshop we can make them look somewhat authentic.«
Kieran snorts. "That's just stupid. James Beaufort is on our team." "Then I'll just have to
make a request to
Beaufort myself if James doesn't want to help," Ruby says suddenly.
“You won’t,” I say absently, without taking my eyes off my phone. Alistair is currently
writing about how badly the newbies are doing and that the coach is going crazy.
“You can’t forbid me, can you?”

I definitely don't want her to talk to my parents. I don't want anyone near my
parents. This is almost impossible when you consider that they finance this school to a
significant extent with their donations and can be seen at every single party. But just the
idea of Ruby near my father turns my stomach.
“Do you really want me to see Principal Lexington at our

weekly meeting tell me how little you get involved?”
I slowly raise my eyes and narrow my eyes at Ruby. I can't believe she's actually
trying to blackmail me. If I weren't so angry, I'd be impressed.
“Do what you can’t help doing,” I growl.

I ignore her for the rest of the hour and no one speaks to me. I draw angry
patterns in my notebook, circles and sharp-edged objects that turn into little monsters
with sharp teeth holding lacrosse sticks in their claws. When Ruby calls the meeting
over, I stand up so quickly that Camille jumps next to me. I'm almost out the door
when Ruby suddenly blocks my path.
"Could you stay for a moment?" "I'm in a

hurry," I say through gritted teeth.
I try to take a step around her, but she slides to the side too. "Please."
Her tone is no longer annoyed like it was a few minutes ago. Now she sounds tired,
as if she can't wait to get out of this room any more than I can. Maybe that's why I nod
and make room for the others. Or maybe it's the thought of Principal Lexington and the
fact that I want to avoid having to attend these team meetings for longer than necessary.
Kieran is the last to leave, and before he closes the door behind him, he gives
me a strange look. If I had to guess, I would say he is jealous of me. Interesting.
Ruby clears her throat. She leans with her hip on one of the tables and has
his arms crossed in front of his chest. "If you're angry with me, don't take it out on the
team. It's not the others' fault, and it's mean to make their work difficult because of it."
Thinking about yesterday makes me feel sick. I can remember every single word she
said to me. But I definitely don't want her to know that she hurt me.
So I return her gaze coolly. "I'm not mad at you." "But you don't seem particularly
peaceful either." I look at her with a raised eyebrow. "We had a stupid debate in a
study group, Ruby Bell. A debate that eventually got too stupid for me. What do
you want from me?" "I just wanted to apologize. I behaved unfairly and got personal, and
I'm sorry about that."
Okay, that wasn't what I expected. It takes me a moment to find the right
words. "You take yourself way too seriously if you think I'm still thinking about it."
She blinks several times, clearly irritated by my snappy response.

"You know what? Forget it."
"You don't have to apologize to me just because you want something from me."
"I'm not apologizing
to you because I want something from you, James," she objects. “It's because
I'm truly sorry. I was easy
… bad yesterday.” We
look at each other for a while and I search for hidden intentions in her eyes.
But I can't find any. Her facial expression is honest and open. She seems really serious
about this. I briefly consider my options. I could continue to give her the cold shoulder
and act like I didn't care about what she said. But then I run the risk of her actually smearing
me at Lexington and extending my time on this committee. I also realize that I don’t
actually want to do this. Arguing with Ruby Bell is damn exhausting. I think meeting
her here will make my life a lot easier.
"Okay," I say simply.

Suddenly the atmosphere between us is no longer filled with anger
charged like a few minutes ago. I feel like I can breathe again, and Ruby's shoulders
suddenly look much more relaxed.
»Good,« she replies. For a moment she seems uncertain, as if she

not what to do next. Then she nods and goes to her table
back.
She takes her calendar, opens it and checks something off. I ask
I asked whether her apology to me was, in all seriousness, an item on one of her to-
do lists. It would not surprise me.
Actually, I could go now. We have said everything that has been said
I have no idea why I don't move, but instead watch her packing her things. Everything
seems to have its place in her hideous backpack, and there is something strangely
calming, almost hypnotic, about how one by one a folder, a notebook, pens, a water
bottle and finally her planner disappear into it.
“How many costumes do you need for the poster?” I suddenly hear myself asking.
Ruby freezes in mid-movement. She slowly turns her head,

to look at me. "Two," she says carefully. "One man's and one woman's costume." I
can see her trying
in vain not to look too hopeful.
to work and decide not to torture them any longer.
“I’ll ask my parents,” I say after a short pause.
Ruby's eyes light up and it is obvious that she is trying very hard to suppress a
smile. "Really?" I nod. "Are you happy now?" Ruby closes her
backpack and hoists it onto her shoulder.
Then
she takes a few steps towards me: »Thank you. You are really helping us.« I shrug
my shoulders and
we leave for the first time since I
I take part in meetings with the event team and share the group room.
»Planning is going well, isn't it? For Halloween?« She looks at me in

surprise. I am just as surprised
about my question. Why the hell don't I just run away?
»Actually, yes. But I think I won’t be able to sleep peacefully until
if the party was a success.«
“Why do you care so much about this?”
She thinks for a few minutes before answering. »I want to prove that I am
good at leading the team. That I can do justice to the task. I had to fight hard to even get
into the team
come, and then I had to fight hard not to let Elaine put me down.” She gives me an
apologetic look.
»I know you're friends, but she really wasn't a good team leader.
I don't want all the work and passion that I have put and continue to put into the
committee to be in vain."
I hum thoughtfully and she gives me a questioning look.
"I'm just wondering if there's anything I'm more passionate about."
"Lacrosse?"
she asks.
I shrug vaguely. “Maybe.” We walk downstairs, through
the library and outside, and for the first time I really realize that the events that seem
so pointless and annoying to me are an important part of other people's lives.
“What time is it anyway?” Ruby suddenly asks.

I look at my watch. »Just before four.« She curses quietly
and runs off. »I'm missing my bus!« Her green backpack bounces on
her back and her brown hair
whirl through the air as she sprints towards the bus stop.
I go to my chauffeur, who is waiting for me in the parking lot in our Rolls-Royce.
Asking my parents suddenly doesn't seem like such a big burden anymore.
Ruby
My phone vibrates as I sit in front of the TV with my parents and Ember watching The
Voice Kids . I dig it out of my pants.
The unlock button has been stuck for a while, and I feel like I have to press it a little harder
every day. When my phone finally understands the instruction, I freeze.
An unknown number wrote me a message.
Got the costumes ready for the poster. Can pick them up in London tomorrow. – J.
“I can't believe this girl is eight years old,” Mum's voice fills my ears with astonishment.
“Why can’t you two sing?” Dad asks. “Then I would have sent you to a show like that
back then too.”
“Our talents lie elsewhere, Dad,” Ember says.
"Oh really? What can you do?” I hear a muffled noise that makes me look
up. Ember threw a couch cushion at Dad. He rumbles a laugh.
»My blog has over five hundred followers, Dad. I can sew and show people that
with a body like mine you can wear whatever you want - that's something, isn't it?« »You
hit five hundred?« I ask, surprised.
She nods curtly. We haven't talked much since our fight. Ember is still angry that I
refuse to take her to the next Maxton Hall party, so the fact that she's achieved this major
milestone has completely passed me by.
»That's great. “Congratulations,” I manage. I don't know why my words sound so

forced because they come from my heart. Ember has been working on Bellbird for over
a year . She puts so much work and love into her blog that she deserves to be
successful with it.
“Thanks.” Ember looks down at the remote and begins

to fiddle with it.
»Do you think Ember can arm herself there with the sewing machine
Register and go to the casting?” Dad asks suddenly. “Or maybe she could give a
lecture. I think it would be great if you explained to the people there what you taught us -
with the Voldemort comparison and everything, so that everyone understands it!
Ember snorts a laugh. "I don't think that's possible, Dad. It's a singing show." "Ah.
Yes. That's an argument. What about Britain's
Got Talent? That's
It's a talent show, and if what you're doing doesn't belong there, I don't know. If
necessary, we'll invite your five hundred followers and put them in the audience. And then
we'll fire you all together
at."
»Absolutely!« I agree. »Go and report your designs
at a casting show. I’m going to make colorful signs and distribute them to all five
hundred followers.”
Ember grimaces. I stick my tongue out at her. Your eyes

start to sparkle, and then a cautious grin spreads across her lips. At that moment I
have the feeling that everything is OK again. We have made up in silence, like we always
do.
I feel my shoulders relax with relief.
Dad says something else, but at that moment I am overwhelmed by the news
distracted, which lights up on my phone again. I start to reply, but immediately delete
it. I have no idea how to react. The idea of going to London with James and spending a
day with him, outside the confines that Maxton Hall normally puts around us, feels
strange.
Strange, but also...exciting when I think about it.

Again I type a few words.
Suddenly a pillow lands in my face.
»Hey!« I call.
"Our discussion wasn't over yet, Ruby," my father says, dead serious. “Get
involved.”
“No, Dad, I can't sing, and no, I'm not becoming one
Go to a talent show so you can make fun of me.”
»Mh,« he says and looks at me thoughtfully, while Mum
makes a delighted noise. »Such a little girl with such a wonderful organ!« »There
are other ways to win a
talent show.
If the sewing machine doesn't work out, you could also learn to juggle.« »If you really
want to
go to a casting show, you should
maybe apply yourself," I say dryly.
"You know what? Maybe I will," Dad replies in a mock defiant tone.
"And what would you like to perform?" Mum asks absentmindedly. She
doesn't take her eyes off the television screen.
»How about …« Danny
Jones, one of the jury members, presses the button, and his
Chair begins to rotate. Mum bursts into cheers and Dad also raises his arms in
euphoria.
Ember and I look at each other and start laughing at the same time.
"Did we have any plans for tomorrow?" I ask after the girl has left the stage and the mood
has calmed down a bit.
Dad shakes his head. “No, why?” “We're currently

planning a Halloween party and need to get costumes. A classmate was able to find
some and is now asking if we want to pick them up in London tomorrow." "It's a two-hour
drive. Would your ominous classmate
drive or are you taking the train?" asks Mum.

I raise my finger to indicate that she should wait a moment. Then I type my answer.
Okay. How do we get to London? – RB
I hope he understands that my initials are a joke.
My chauffeur will pick you up around 10am. OK? – JMB
I snort and immediately feel Ember's questioning look on me.

For a moment I'm about to google James just to find out what the M stands for,
but I stop myself. Googling him would also be crossing the line. I don't want to know
everything about him on the internet. There are hundreds of rumors circulating at school
alone. My need for James Beaufort gossip will last until the end of my life.
“My classmate apparently has a driver,” I answer belatedly.
"A driver?" Ember asks skeptically. "So it's one of those snobs." "His family owns
Beaufort."
"You want to drive to London with the
Beaufort boy?" Dad asks.
His tone is a mix of surprised and suspicious.
I nod slowly. "Yes. We can get clothes from the archive."
Dad frowns. "And you're going to "Come on, Angus," Mum interrupts. … in pairs?«
"Leave Ruby alone." "What? If Ruby has a date, I want to know."
I feel my face turning red. "This isn't a date, Dad. We're doing school stuff." He
just grumbles. Ember, on
the other hand, stares at me with wide eyes.
"That's really unbelievable." She falls back on the sofa and crosses both arms over her
chest. “That’s so oh man. You don't know what a chance this … is, Ruby." "I'll take pictures
for you," I say soothingly, but Ember looks
just stubbornly staring at the television.

“So it’s okay if I drive?” I ask to Mum. She
seems to me to be the only sensible person in this living room.
"Of course," she says immediately, giving Dad a warning look as he opens his
mouth again. "You're old enough to decide who you go with and where and when." Her
words inexplicably make my cheeks turn even redder.
Without paying much attention, I type a reply:
OK.
By the way: I would like Ben & Jerry's instead of champagne. – RJB
PS: If you list another initial now, I'll go crazy.
I hesitate for a moment and wonder if I can really send the message like that. James and
I aren't the kind of people who joke with each other via chat. Or is it?
See you tomorrow, Ruby.
No, we're probably not that kind of people.
OceanofPDF.com
12
Ruby
The next morning I'm on the verge of freaking out because I have no
idea what to wear to visit Beaufort . I don't know if there's a dress code
and if so, how smart I need to be. I'm also wondering if James will be
wearing a suit. Neither of us has ever seen each other outside of
school, which means we don't know each other in anything other than
our school uniforms.
I finally decide on a black skirt, over-the-knee socks and an ocher
knitted sweater with a crocheted white collar and a black bow. I'm wearing
my black brogues that I picked up at Gormsey's second-hand shop a
few months ago.
When it comes to fashion, I'm nowhere near as willing to take risks as Ember.
I prefer to buy things that I feel confident in and that I know I can wear for a
long time. But I still like to get dressed and take the time to look neat -
this is probably also due to my penchant for order.
When I am finished dressing, I go back to

my sister. She's already awake and sitting at her little desk by the window
when I poke my head through the door.
"What?" she asks without turning to me.
»What do you think of this outfit?« She turns to me in her chair
and I push the door open so she can look at me.
"Very pretty," she says after looking me up and down.
“Really?” I ask, turning around to myself. As I

When I look at Ember, she squints her eyes.
"Not a date, huh?" There's something teasing in her tone.
I roll my eyes. "Ember, I can't stand that guy." "Sure," she replies and
stands up. She goes to her closet, a small chamber built into the
wall, and opens the door. Then she bends
forward until she is half-hidden in it and begins to rummage around.

I carefully step behind her and look over her shoulder. After half a minute she reappears
and hands me a small burgundy bag.
"My bag!" "Don't act

so outraged. “You just walk around with your backpack anyway,” she says
defensively. She points to my outfit. “But it goes really well with that.” “Actually, I should
charge interest
because you kept it for so long.” I brush off the thin layer of dust that has formed on
the imitation leather. I also bought this part in the second-hand shop in the village center.
I walked around proudly with it for two whole weeks until our neighbor Mrs Felton
spotted me in Mum's bakery and bragged loudly that the bag had once
belonged to her - fifty years ago. After that, I willingly lent it to Ember and didn't want it
back at first. But now that I have it in my hand, I'm glad to have it back.
"I won't pay interest on something you didn't even know I owned," Ember says.
The doorbell ringing makes me freeze. I take a look

the clock. It's a quarter to ten. "He's too early," I groan and run into my room to hastily
move my cell phone and wallet from one pocket to the other.
“Ruby!” comes my mom’s voice.

As I walk down, I remind myself to stay calm. There's absolutely no reason to
be nervous. This is nothing more than a school trip - Lin and I have done this a
hundred times before, and it will be no different with James.
I take a deep breath and take the last few steps. Mum has already opened the
door and when I enter the hall she is talking to a man. My mouth drops open.
First: James didn't lie. He really has a chauffeur. And

with a uniform, cap and all the trimmings. Secondly, the driver looks like Antonio
Banderas. He has tanned skin, deep brown eyes and an expressive, almost
sensual mouth. He is definitely in his forties and extremely attractive. If I interpret the blush
on Mum's cheeks correctly, she is thinking exactly the same thing as me.
“Good morning, miss,” says the Zorro chauffeur, briefly raising his cap in greeting.
»Good morning...«
»Percy,« Mum helps me out and smiles at me.
»...Percy,« I finish with a smile and take my parka from
the wardrobe. “There, Mom. I'll see you later." "Have fun,
darling. And take photos for us.” Mum gives me a kiss on the cheek and I step
outside to join Percy. The next moment, as if by magic, he stretches a huge black
umbrella over my head.
"Thank you very much," I say.

»With pleasure, miss. The car is right there in front.” I follow
his hand gesture and almost stop in amazement.
There is a Rolls-Royce parked on the street in front of our house. Shiny black and huge, it
looks like a foreign object among the other cars parked on the side of the road - even to
me, and I've gotten used to the sight of limousines and expensive cars.
Percy opens one of the back doors and holds the umbrella over me until
I got in. I thank him, whereupon he nods and carefully closes the door behind me.
Less than half a minute later the car starts. Nervously I straighten my skirt and check that
nothing slipped when I got in.
Only then can I look at James.

He's sitting on the side bench, an inscrutable expression on his face. He looks as
if he doesn't even know what to make of me just getting into his car. He's wearing a dark
grey suit woven with fine threads, a white shirt and a dark silk tie with a tie pin. In one hand
he holds a glass that I sincerely hope is filled with apple juice, and I notice a silver
signet ring on his left finger that I've never seen before. It has a coat of arms on it,
surely his family's.
The longer I look at him, the more inappropriately dressed I feel.

my pieced together vintage outfit. Unlike me, everything about James screams money,
from the top of his head to the tips of his shiny black leather shoes. I try not to
let it bother me
to be impressed – after all, I knew what I was getting myself into.
Only at second glance do I notice how tired James looks.

His turquoise eyes are tinged with red and there are dark shadows beneath them.
“Good morning,” he finally says roughly.

Maybe he just woke up. Or maybe he partied all night and didn't sleep at
all.
“Good morning,” I reply. “Thanks for picking me up.” When he says
nothing and instead looks at me the same way I did at him, I look around the
limousine. The seats are made of leather, opposite James is a bar with glasses and a
compartment with a door that I assume is some kind of refrigerator. There is a dark
partition between our area and the driver's side.
When the silence between us threatens to become uncomfortable, I join in

a nod in Percy's direction: "By the way, your driver could be a Hollywood star. I
have never seen such an attractive man in his mid-forties." "You flatter me, miss. I am
fifty-two,"
Percy's
Voice through a speaker on the ceiling.
I look at James in dismay. He starts grinning from ear to ear
on the other hand, an incredible heat shoots into my cheeks.
"If you say things like that, you might want to turn off the intercom,
Ruby Bell," James points out, pointing above him. I follow his gaze and see a glowing
red light.
"Oh."
"I'll handle it, sir," Percy says, and a second later it goes out.
I bury my face in both hands and shake my head. »In films, only the partition always
goes up. How am I supposed to know that you have to press a special button for that?”
»Don't worry about it. Percy rarely gets compliments like that from me. I’m sure
he’s happy.” I shake my head. »I think I have to get
out.« »It's too late for that now. You're here for the next two hours
trapped with me." I hear a soft clink. "Here, for you."

I slowly take my hands from my face. James holds out a

small blue cup.
"Don't tell me you really got me ice cream," I say incredulously.
"We had some at home," he says simply. "Take it, or I'll eat it."
Without another word, I take the cup from him. James bends
down to the fridge again, and the next second he's holding a second Ben & Jerry's
cup in his hand. I watch with interest as he peels off the foil and lifts the lid. Seeing
him in that suit with the ice cream on his lap feels so unreal that for a moment I wonder
if I'm actually awake or still asleep.
The ice condenses in my hand and a cold drop lands on my lap. I look around for a
napkin.
"Over there on the right," says James, nodding toward the bar.
I stretch, grab one of the eggshell-colored napkins from the stack, and spread it on
my lap. Then I lift the lid of the cup and take a first spoonful. I close my eyes in pleasure.
»Mmmm. Cookie Dough.”

"I had to guess what your favorite flavor is," says James. "Was I right?" "Yes. Definitely
cookie dough," I say
with full conviction, but then I stop. "Although. The new salted caramel is really good
too. Do you know it?" James shakes his head.
Silence spreads between us for a while. Then he says, “This is the best hangover
breakfast I’ve had in a long time.”
So he was out partying yesterday. »Did you have a long night?« I
immediately regret the question as he looks ambiguously into his ice cream.
smiles. »You could say that.«
“So this part of the ominous James Beaufort rumors is true.” “Ominous James
Beaufort
rumors?” he asks, amused.
I raise an eyebrow. "Come on." "I have no
idea what you're talking about."
"As if you didn't know that there are tons of rumors about you and your clique."
"For example?" "That
you eat caviar in the
morning, bathe in champagne, destroy a waterbed during sex
… and so on." He
freezes with the spoon halfway to his lips. A second passes, then another.
Finally, he puts it in his mouth and eats the ice cream leisurely, pretending to think deeply.
It seems as if he is slowly waking up. The cloudy veil has disappeared from his
eyes.
"Okay, let's clear up the rumors," he begins. "I don't like caviar at all. The thought
of eating fish eggs is just disgusting. When I have breakfast, I drink a smoothie, usually
with poached eggs or muesli." "In the smoothie?" I pull a face of disgust.
»Not in the smoothie. Plus.” “Oh, right.”

He thinks
again for a moment. »The thing about the champagne isn't true either.
That is, it's not entirely true. I once dropped a damn expensive bottle of Wren's parents'
into the pool and then bathed in it. But that wasn't intentional."
"Wren's parents are probably big fans of yours." "If you only
knew." He grins and continues to eat his ice cream.
“And … “What about the waterbed?” I ask hesitantly.
James stops and looks at me with sparkling eyes. "The
interests you, right?«
“If I have to be honest, yes,” I admit without looking away. »I mean, waterbeds
don't break down easily, do they? I heard they're totally stable." "It wasn't a waterbed, but
a normal frame." I swallow dryly. There's something
in James' eyes that I've seen before
I've never seen before. Something dark and heavy that makes my stomach tingle.
“How boring,” I croak, but my voice belies me.

I don't want to imagine James having sex.
Really not.
Unfortunately, I'm now thinking about what he did to destroy his bed. And what he
looked like doing it. He showed me a bit of skin when he undressed in front of me. I know
he's well built. And I've often seen how agile he is when he's exercising. I'm sure he makes
the women in his bed pretty happy.
At this moment I am grateful for the ice cream in my hands.

I would love to dip my face in it to come back down.
"There's usually nothing or just a little truth to rumors." His knowing grin makes me
fear that he knows exactly what I was thinking down to the last detail.
I decide that it is time to put the subject of waterbeds behind me. »Then
I am glad that there are no rumors about me.« James puts his ice cream back in the
freezer and puts the spoon on the
Bar. Then he leans back in his seat and looks at me thoughtfully. "After the
thing with Lydia, I asked about you." "I don't know if I want to know what people say
about me," I
say quietly.
"Most people didn't even know you. And if they said something, it wasn't anything
bad."
I breathe a sigh of relief. "Really?" James
nods. "That's why I was so suspicious of you. Someone with such a good
reputation can only have something dirty on their hands." I pull a face. "I have
nothing dirty on my
hands." "Of course not." He looks amused and leans forward.
»Come on, Ruby. Tell me something that none of our classmates know about you.« I
automatically shake
my head. No. In a game like this, I would
definitely not take part. "Tell me something that nobody else knows about you."
I expect him to protest, but instead he seems to actually be thinking about the
question.
»If I am not accepted into Oxford, my father will take me
He says it casually, as if he had long since come to terms with this fact
resigned. But his eyes tell me a different truth.

“Because he studied there too?” I ask cautiously.
"My parents both studied at Oxford. And their parents." I always envied James
and his friends because, because of their backgrounds, they had the best
prerequisites to be accepted into a university like Oxford. But now I realise that there is
another side to it. One that involves an incredible amount of pressure and that helps
me understand James' violent reaction in the study group a little better. I must have
really hurt him with my words.
"I've always wanted to go to Oxford. Ever since I can remember," I begin

after a while. I suddenly feel like it's OK to confide this part of myself to him. After all, he
just did it, and it helped me understand him a little better. We've only argued since we
first met. There's no harm in trying to at least partially remove the prejudices we have
against each other.
»My parents always encouraged me, even though they knew it would probably remain a
dream. My grades were always good, but that alone doesn't qualify you for Oxford. But
then they heard about the scholarships that Maxton Hall gives out to a handful of students
in England every year and signed me up for it. None of us expected it to work, but I did
something right during the interviews. Since then, the idea isn't quite as crazy anymore,
and I've vowed to do everything I can to make it to Oxford. I want to make my parents
proud. And myself too.”
James is silent for a moment. He looks at me, and the sudden intensity in his
blue-green eyes sends shivers down my spine. “How long have you been at school?”
»For two years.« He

grumbles.
“What’s so grumbling about?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders indecisively. "I'm just wondering how I never noticed you
before." My heart skips a beat. And at the same time I'm
kicking myself inside
on the shoulder – apparently my don’t-attract-anything
Rule flawless. "I have the gift of moving through the corridors like a shadow and
blending into the walls."
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “It sounds like you’re the resident Maxton Hall
ghost. Or a chameleon. But let’s get back to the topic: It’s your turn.”
“With what?” I look at him, perplexed.

“To tell me something about you that no one else knows.” “But I just did!”
He shakes his head. "That does not
count. You were just reacting to what I told you.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I think about what I could tell him.
The fact that his watchful gaze is on me doesn't make it any easier for me to think.
On the contrary.
I shake my head in resignation. "There's nothing to tell." "I don't believe
you." He leans back, both arms in front of him
Chest crossed. "Come on. You can't just study."
Yes, it occurs to me, I can. However, thankfully another thought occurred to me at
the same moment. “I read manga.” James looks at me for a moment as if he had
misheard. Then
he smiles. "That's something. I wouldn't necessarily call it 'dirty hands', but okay.
What's your favorite manga?" I blink at him, perplexed. I wasn't expecting a question.
“Death Note,” I answer hesitantly.

“Would you recommend it to me?” I have
no idea how we went from “James destroys beds during sex” to “These are Ruby's
favorite manga.” Really not a clue. Still, I nod slowly. "In my opinion, if you haven't read
Death Note, you're missing an important part of your general education." James looks
shocked. “That would be terrible.” The corners of my mouth turn up without me doing
anything.
I have to grin.
James Beaufort made me smile.
When I realize this, I quickly turn away and look out the window, but I'm pretty sure
he saw it. In his
Something like triumph clearly flashed in his eyes.

I wonder why.
OceanofPDF.com
13
Ruby
BEAUFORT
James' last name is emblazoned in impressive letters on the facade of the
Corporate headquarters. While he gets out of the car and walks purposefully
towards the entrance, I stop and stare with wide eyes first at the sign, then at the huge
modern building, in which - as James explained to me during the drive - the largest is in
the lower part Beaufort branch in England, in the upper part are the offices of
departments such as design, sales, customer service and, above all, of course, tailoring.
Window fronts stretch across all six floors of the building, behind which mannequins
are positioned, dressed in the classic fashion that has made the brand famous.
“Are you coming?” James calls to me from the front door.

We talked for the rest of the trip. Not a lot, but still more than I expected. The
feeling that I'm actually in a dream won't go away.
I'm in London. With James Beaufort.

I just can't believe it.
“Ruby!” James calls, raising his eyebrows and pointing to his watch.
This snaps me out of my trance. I start moving quickly

and run to him. He holds the door open for me and I hesitantly enter the branch.
Then I look around.
It is much bigger than the one I was in with my parents.
The high ceilings, white walls and well-kept hardwood floors make the sales
room feel open and inviting, even though the furniture is all black. Shelves that reach up
to the ceiling and store countless shirts run along the back wall. Above the shelves is
a brass rod with a ladder hanging on the left side. Directly behind the entrance area
is a large round table with a brass deer statue in the middle.
stands, so neatly folded trousers lie in small piles. A chandelier hangs above the
table, warming the room with its soft light. The smell in the shop is unique - tart but not
overpowering, a mixture of the natural smells of the fabrics and an aroma that probably
comes from an air freshener.
comes from.
James gently pokes my arm. I look up at him and he jerks his head toward the back
of the store. I slowly follow him. There is another wall of shelves to our right. There is a
section cut out in the middle and there are pictures of men in various suits, lit on the sides
by two brass lamps. Directly below is a dark green velvet sofa with checkered cushions,
a fur-covered futon, and a glass table with crystal glasses and a carafe of water. All
around us I see robust tweed, fine silk, the finest leather - the fabrics Beaufort works
with are the best, that is their promise of quality. There is no doubt that I am in a shop
where aristocrats and politicians come and go, and although I
don't want to, I feel a little out of place.
Maybe that's simply because only men seem to stay here. Men in
sales, men further back standing on stools in front of large mirrors, men at their feet
taking their measurements, and then the man standing next to me.
Suddenly one of the men in question rises from the ground. He says something to
the customer whose trouser hem he was pinning, then his eyes fall on us. When he
recognizes James, he freezes. “Mr Beaufort!” He looks at his watch, his face white
as a sheet.
“Don’t worry, Tristan, we have time,” James replies.
I don't recognize his tone at all. He speaks like one
other person. Sublime and with authority. When I look at him from the side, I notice
his straight posture. Even though he has his hands loosely buried in the pockets of his suit
pants, you can tell he's not just anyone in this store. I wonder how he does it.
He seems to make every place he goes his empire. The school, the lacrosse field,
this business. Whether that also happens when he
enters an ice cream parlor? Maybe I would try that out when I get the chance
must.
Tristan waves over another tailor and hands over his tape measure
forward to him. The next moment he rushes over to us and shakes James' hand.
“Forgive me for not meeting you.”
»Don't worry, Tristan,« James replies. »Do you have time for us, or are you still
busy?« The tailor looks at him, upset. »Of course I have time for
you, sir.« James turns to me. »Ruby, this is Tristan MacIntyre, first
Bespoke tailor at Beaufort. And Tristan, this is Ruby Bell. She's the head of the
events team at Maxton Hall."
I look at James with raised eyebrows. I'm surprised that he introduced me like that. He
could have just said that I go to school with him. Or nothing at all except my name.
Tristan straightens his jacket and when his gaze falls on me, his posture relaxes a
little. A practiced smile appears on his lips. "Mr. Beaufort doesn't often bring school
friends here, so I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Ms. Bell." I return his smile and
offer him my hand. He takes it, but
Instead of shaking it, as I expected, he turns it halfway and kisses the back of my hand.
I suddenly feel the need to curtsy. Luckily, I can hold back just in time and say instead:
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr MacIntyre." "You can call me Tristan." "Only if you call me
Ruby." His smile widens and with a meaningful look he turns
to James: "We've had some costumes brought in from the archives. They're upstairs
in the tailor's shop. So if you'd both follow me, please." He turns and leads us through
the shop to the
back to a
dark wooden door. Through it we enter a staircase.
"I hope you like the dresses we picked out,"
says Tristan on the way up. "They were designed by your great-great-
great-grandfather himself, Mr Beaufort."
I look at James in surprise, but his face shows no emotion as he says, "I'm sure
they're adequate for the occasion."
“Is that the great-great-great-grandfather who founded Beaufort ?” I ask curiously.
Tristan nods. »Exactly, together with his wife in 1857.

Did you know that Beaufort was originally a fashion house for both men and women? It
was only at the beginning of the twentieth century that they decided to focus on their
core competence.' I knew that since Lin suggested asking James
about the costumes. I pointed out that that would be pointless because we would
still be missing the dress for the woman, whereupon she told me about the beginnings of
Beaufort fashion and showed me pictures of the opulent dresses that were sold under
the brand at the time.
»Yes,« I say belatedly. »But I don't know why.« »Our economic

situation was bad,« says James. »My
Great-great-grandfather made some bad decisions and we were on the verge of
bankruptcy. Specializing was the only way out." "After that, Beaufort became the
brand it is
now," explains Tristan, as if he had been there himself at the time. »Nobody makes
suits like we can. You can get everything your heart desires from us – from suits for
everyday life to evening wear. The quality of the workmanship cannot be compared
to off-the-shelf goods, not to mention the fact that we personalize every suit with
the customer's initials. Mr. Beaufort, show me yours.” I stop and turn to James,
who is one step below me
stands. Now we are eye to eye. My gaze lingers on his eyes for a moment too
long, the expression on whose face I cannot quite interpret. Then I lower it to the breast
pocket of his dark gray suit, which is embroidered with the initials JMB.
"I've been wondering since yesterday what the M stands for," I confess. I look
up again and suddenly I'm so close to him that I see details in his face that I hadn't noticed
before. For example, his eyelashes are surprisingly dark for his hair color. Or the pale
freckles that streak his cheeks.
"Mortimer," he answers quietly.

“Like your dad?” He

nods and looks past me at Tristan. A clear sign
that he does not want to deepen the conversation in this direction.
As we walk the rest of the stairs up, Tristan tells me
the special fabrics Beaufort tailors work with and the number of cufflinks they can
choose from.
Up until now, a suit has always been just a suit for me. I've never noticed any major
differences, let alone realized how many decisions have to be made before one is
created. Or how many different ways there are to make one.
»We measure every square, we leave nothing to the

Coincidence," says Tristan as we leave the stairwell and enter an illuminated
hallway. »That has always been Beaufort's claim .
We work with the utmost care and offer the best quality. That's why we're even allowed
to dress the royal family." He stops next to a photograph hanging on the wall. I step
closer and my mouth drops open.
There's a picture of the Crown Prince hanging on the wall.
“Don’t say you dressed him,” I say in awe.
James says nothing, but Tristan smiles proudly. "Not just him." We
continue down the hall, the walls of which are lined from end to end with pictures of
celebrities, politicians and royalty - all of them dressed in Beaufort suits . I see Pierce
Brosnan, the Beatles and even a photo of the Prime Minister. Also a number of men
whose faces mean nothing to me, but whose attitudes in the photos alone tell me that they
are powerful and very rich.
“Have you met all of these people?” I ask James.
He shrugs his shoulders. "A few." "That's really

cool," I murmur, almost feeling a little sad.
when Tristan opens a door at the end of the hallway and finally leads us into the
tailor shop.
I look around curiously. The room is spacious and almost seems
like a huge bright hall. Even though it's Saturday, there are probably fifty people
working here between tailors' dummies and tables piled high with fabric.
“Come on, the costumes are back there.” Tristan leads the way and crosses the
room with us in tow. As they pass, the employees greet James politely but stiffly. As I
glance over my shoulder, I can see them putting their heads together and whispering.
I frown at James. He wore a mask of nonchalant arrogance, the same expression I

remember from him at school. I wonder what's going on in his head right now. He doesn't
look like he's enjoying the fact that people here seem to be afraid of him.
I want to know more about him, I suddenly realize. More about

James, Beaufort and what goes on behind the scenes of this wealthy family.
Tristan breaks me out of my thoughts when he stops abruptly.

“Voila,” he says, pointing to a tailor’s dummy next to him, which takes my breath …
away.
The tailor's dummy is wearing a Victorian dress. It consists of
green silk, is in two parts and has short sleeves with black lace flounces.
The top is tight-fitting, the neckline is discreetly heart-shaped and decorated with
black glass stones. The skirt is pompous and looks even bigger and heavier thanks to
the underskirt. The folded green fabric alternates with panels of lace and reaches to
the floor. It is by far the most beautiful piece of clothing I have ever seen in my life.
I don't know how I'm supposed to take it home or to school. I don't even dare to
touch it for fear of getting it dirty.
Behind the doll with the dress is another doll that has been dressed in a man's
costume consisting of a frock coat, vest, shirt and trousers. The frock coat has a slight
waist cut and looks as if it were made of a soft wool fabric. The black vest has several
pockets and tapers towards the bottom. In the small collar of the white shirt is a black tie
that looks wider and has a different shape than the ties I know.
»When gentlemen dressed up back then, they didn't do things by halves. Every
detail had to be perfect,« explains Tristan and begins to take the men's costume off the
mannequin. After
Once he's done it, he motions for James to follow him behind a partition.
“Come on, Mr. Beaufort. Let’s see if it suits you.”
James stops looking at me before following Tristan behind the partition. He seems
more like he's on standby and not really present at all. Since we left the Rolls-Royce, I
haven't seen a single emotion on his face. As if his primary goal was not to let
anyone here share his thoughts or feelings.
As I hear Tristan’s quiet murmuring and the rustling of fabric,

I dare to take a step closer to the dress. I wonder what kind of woman wore it before
and what kind of life she led.
Whether she had dreams and was able to make them come true.
It takes about five minutes until Tristan comes back to me
"It suits him perfectly," he says triumphantly.
»You have my measurements, Tristan,« James comments dryly. »With
“You helped me with security.” Then he also steps out from behind the partition.
My mouth becomes dry.

James looks like he came straight out of the nineteenth century. The suit fits him perfectly, and
Tristan has even combed his hair to the side and placed a cane in his hand. I slowly let my gaze wander over
his body, from top to bottom.
James looks absolutely amazing .

It's only when I look back up at his face that I realize I must have been staring, and
judging by his dirty grin, white
James exactly what was on my mind. My cheeks heat up.
“It’s your turn, Ruby,” Tristan suddenly tells me.

"What?" I look at him, confused. "With what?" "Well,
with changing, of course." He points to the dress. I stare at him first, then at James.
He tries to suppress a laugh, with only moderate success. Only then do I realize what
they both want from me.
»That's out of the question!« I say with panic in my voice. I should
get the costumes . There was never any talk of getting dressed.
»Did you think I was the only one who could travel back in time? Definitely
“Don’t.” James holds out his cane and taps me with it
a little too hard against the shin. “So if you would please change.”
“A true gentleman would never hit a lady with a cane, Mr. Beaufort,” Tristan admits.
James gives a snort. “Ruby is not a lady, Tristan. She's a tyrant." "You haven't gotten
to know my tyrannical
side at all.
But I'd be happy to show it to you." I narrow my eyes at James. "Tristan, do you happen
to have another stick like that?"
"I'm afraid not. But you don't need a cane when you wear this wonderful dress. Come
on,” says Tristan, looking so hopeful that I don’t have the heart to resist any further. I
follow him behind the partition and he disappears and returns a little later with a woman
who he introduces to me as his assistant and who helps me put on the two-piece dress.
It turns out I could never have done this alone. Closing the many tiny eyelet fasteners is
an art in itself, not to mention the fact that the top and skirt are reinforced with metal rods
on the inside. I have to contort myself quite a bit to get both over my head and over my
hips. After we've finished dressing, the hem of the dress is so enormous that I can barely
fit into the narrow area between the partition and the actual wall.
“Ready, boss,” calls Tristan’s assistant, and he comes back to us. When he sees me,
he claps his hands together in delight and his face lights up. "How wonderful! Just a few
finishing touches…” Out of nowhere, he pulls out a hair clip and steps behind me. He
takes the top section of my hair - or at least that's what it feels like - and pushes it
back, clamping it in place with the clip. Then he stands in front of me again and tugs
at a few more strands until a satisfied expression spreads across his face. Then I can
finally turn to the mirror that is hanging on the wall behind me.
My breath catches in my throat.
I didn't know I could look like that. Aside from the fact that the dress hugs my
curves like it was made for me, I feel like I'm channeling the spirit of the lady who once
wore it. I feel beautiful, powerful and strong at the same time. As
I would have the whole world at my feet and all I had to do was snap my fingers to get
what I wanted. I slowly turn to Tristan and smile. “Thank you for making me put on the
dress.” He gestures toward a bow. “Mr Beaufort,” he says solemnly. "I
present to you Ms. Ruby Bell.”

I start moving carefully. One step, two steps, until I stop
around the partition, four steps, five steps and I dare to look …
up.
James is talking to Tristan's assistant, but when he sees me, he stops mid-
sentence. His eyebrows rise and his lips part slightly. He looks me up and down like he
has all the time in the world and I swallow hard.
Then he mumbles something I can't understand.

“What?”
He clears his throat. »You … you look very pretty."
my heart stumbles. It's not the first time I've received a compliment
from a boy, but it still feels that way.
I don't think James says things like that very often. His words seem honest to me.
And unmasked. …
"The dress is made for her," Tristan agrees. He pushes me a little further in James'
direction and then pulls out his phone. "Now look like a lady and a gentleman from the
nineteenth century." James lets out a barely audible snort next to me, but when I risk a
glance at him,
he looks into the camera as if he's done nothing else his whole life. I remember the
pictures that were circulating at Maxton Hall last year. In them, he was modeling for his
parents' new collection with Lydia and had a poker face just as well-rehearsed as now. I turn
my head to Tristan and try to look dignified and serious. I don't know if I'm doing it right, but
he takes one photo after another of us. "Change the pose again. Maybe bow and
"Hold out your hand so it looks like you're asking her to dance," he suggests after
a few minutes.
James looks like a pro as he obeys the request. I doubt that many eighteen-year-
old boys bow so elegantly
would look like him – whether with or without a costume. But James seems to be
taking this really seriously. I'm surprised when he suddenly grabs my hand and looks
up at me from below. His skin is warm, and even though he touches my fingers ever so
slightly, a tingling sensation runs up my entire arm.
When he looks at me like that, I can literally imagine it. A hall full of people in
costumes, atmospheric orchestral music and James and me. How he puts his hand on
my back and guides me across the floor. He certainly knows how to move. I could
well imagine giving up control and letting myself fall while dancing with him.
I swallow dryly. I like the idea more than I should.

“Now perhaps a picture of you facing each other?” Tristan
says, and James stands up again. The silk scarf in his breast pocket has slipped
a bit and I automatically reach for it and straighten it.
Something flashes in James' eyes. I quickly take my hand away again - and then I
suddenly don't know what else to do with my arms and let them hang limply at my sides.
Suddenly James reaches for my hand again. He places his other hand on my
waist and I hold my breath. My heart starts racing and I don't know why, but it feels
amazingly good to be touched by him. At this point I can't remember why I actually can't
stand him.
What is he doing to me?

James returns my gaze with exactly the same mixture of wonder and
alertness that I am feeling right now. The sounds around us fade the longer we look at
each other. All I can feel is his fingers, moving slightly on my waist, his hand holding
mine tightly. His gaze almost seems like a challenge that I am willing to accept at any
cost.
“James,” a deep voice comes from behind us.

The fire in his eyes goes out. From one second to the next.
The same goes for his relaxed posture. Suddenly he stands up straight and lets go of
me as if I had burned him.
One second. It didn't take long for him to become the James Beaufort I know again.
The arrogant expression around his mouth and
the coldness in his eyes suddenly makes him seem quite threatening in this outfit.
»Mum, Dad. I didn't know you were here today.« Oh God. I start to
turn around in the bulky dress, and
When I finally made it, my heart sank.
Before me stand Mortimer and Cordelia Beaufort. James' and Lydia's
Parents. Leaders of one of the most successful companies in England.
Suddenly I no longer feel as strong and powerful in my suit as I did a few moments
before - especially not in comparison to Cordelia Beaufort. Everything about her is
stylish, elegant and sublime. She has a narrow face and the same arrogant mouth
as James, only hers is painted dark red. Her complexion is porcelain-like, and she's wearing
a fitted white sheath dress that's definitely from an expensive designer. Her shiny rust-red hair
reaches just above her shoulders and is perfectly wavy, as if it had just come from the
hairdresser.
James' father has sandy hair, ice-blue eyes and mouth corners,
which point slightly downwards. His posture is straight and proud, and in his tailored
Beaufort suit he looks like he's on his way to an important business meeting.
His face shows no emotion as he looks me up and down.
Now I know who James inherited his impenetrable mask from.
"We were at the company for a meeting with China," explains James' mother. She
steps forward and kisses her son on the cheek, and the scent of her perfume hits me. She
smells powdery and like a bouquet of fresh roses.
"Percival told us that he drove you and your..." she looks at me briefly, "... school friend
here." James doesn't answer. Since he makes no
move to introduce me to his parents, I step forward with hot cheeks and offer his mother
my hand. »I'm Ruby Bell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Beaufort.”
She looks at my hand for a moment too long before striking.

“The joy is entirely mine.” She smiles, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.
I want to be like her, it comes to mind. Like them, I want to walk into a room and be
instantly seen and respected as a strong woman by the people around me just because of
my charisma.
What I don't want to do is scare people with my mere presence, as Mr. Beaufort
seems to have done. He gives me a curt nod as I shake his hand, and then looks around the
tailor shop again, as if he's already had enough of me.
“I see you ordered some clothes from the archives,” says Mrs. Beaufort,
cocking her head at us.
She takes a step forward and tugs at the skirt of my dress. A wrinkle forms between her
brows. »The skirt is too long. Please change that, Mr MacIntyre.”
Tristan, who hasn't said a word since the Beauforts arrived,

nods quickly. "Of course, ma'am."
Now Mrs Beaufort motions for me to turn around. I do as she asks, feeling
uneasy in my stomach.
»What do you need the clothes for again?«
“For the Victorian celebration at the end of October,” answers James. He seems
completely different, and his monotone tone is reminiscent of a robot.
»By that he means the party he has to organize because he feels like a
wayward little boy," says Mr Beaufort.
Mrs. Beaufort clicks her tongue. I finish my turn, which wasn't so easy to do with
the dress, and now I look discreetly back and forth between the three. James shows
no reaction to his father's words. Mrs Beaufort, on the other hand, looks at her husband
admonishingly for a moment.
Then she turns back to me. She puts her hands on the short sleeves of the dress,
tugs at them and finally says to Tristan: "It needs to be made a bit wider here at the front,
Tristan. It squeezes like this and then it can..." She looks questioningly at my face.
“Ruby,” I help her out.

"...Ruby can't breathe properly," she finishes.
Tristan nods and pulls me back along with his assistant
behind the partition. I glance over my shoulder at James, but he doesn't look at me,
he is completely focused on his parents
concentrated. His father is talking to him, his eyes fixed on me. His mumbling sounds
annoyed, but I can't understand anything he's saying to James.
I look away and turn to Tristan. "They both seem very important." Only at the …
last moment do I manage to replace "scary" with a more positive word. Tristan is already
carefully pinning the hem of the dress to his wrist with pins from a pin cushion.
"You're right, Miss." He doesn't say anything else.

It's eerie how quiet the huge room has become since then
the Beauforts entered it. Nobody seems to be talking anymore, even Tristan
just smiles at me briefly before disappearing and leaving his assistant to help
me change. Getting out of the dress is much quicker than putting it on. It doesn't take
ten minutes until I have my own clothes back on and can go back to the front.
I stand next to James, who has now taken off his frock coat and draped it loosely over
his arm.
Mrs Beaufort lets her gaze slide over me, then she puts her hand
on her son's arm. “See you downstairs.” James nods curtly.
She turns to me. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Bell." James' father doesn't say
a word.
The two turn around and leave
the tailor shop. Only when the door closes behind them can I breathe again.
“You could have warned me, you know,” I say quietly.

James turns stiffly to me. I wish I could interpret his look, but there's nothing but
icy turquoise. "Percy is waiting for you downstairs." "Well, I'm ready. You're the one who's
still stuck in the nineteenth century." I smile cautiously at him.
He doesn't say it back. “Our trip is over,” he begins, and his

Voice sounds exactly how it looks. Cool and distant. "It's better if you go now."
I frown. »What?« »You have to

go now, Ruby.« He says it slowly, emphasizing each syllable
individually, as if I were slow to understand. "See you in school."
He turns around and goes behind the partition to change.

For a moment I can only stare after him. The next I realise what he just
did. How he spoke to me.
Anger spreads through me and I take a step forward to
to confront him. But I don't get very far. Tristan grabs my arm and holds me back. The
expression in his eyes is regretful, but also stern as he looks at me. "Come on, Ruby. I'll
take you downstairs." He tugs lightly on my arm. Reluctantly, I let him take me.
away. As we walk through the tailor shop, I can feel the pitying looks
of all the employees on me.
OceanofPDF.com
14
Ruby
My invisibility cloak slipped.

Word got around that I was in London with James at the weekend.
Apparently there are even photos of us entering the store together. Suddenly
people in Maxton Hall know my name whose faces I've never seen before. Some
greet me warmly in the hallways, others – most of them – whisper behind my back. The
worst time is during class, where I can't concentrate at all because my classmates
are constantly staring at me. As if they were expecting me to get up at any moment and
explain at length what went down between me and James Beaufort over the
weekend.
I just want to forget last Saturday as quickly as possible. I still feel so humiliated and
my anger at James grows the more I think about his unacceptable behavior.
When the bell rings for lunch, I seriously consider skipping dinner, but I'm too
hungry for not going to be a realistic option. Lin also promises to act like a protective shield
around me - and to tell me the latest gossip about her father.
"He has a new girlfriend again," she announces after we have eaten in silence for a
while.
I look up from my udon noodles. »But not another one of those
Marriage scammer, right?" I ask with my mouth full.
“No.” She grimaces. “That means, at least I hope so.” “So?” I ask cautiously.
Lin shrugs. She pushes her half-eaten sandwich from

himself and wipes his fingers on a napkin. "I don't know. I think he might as well just
take a break from dating after what went so wrong with the last woman.”
Lin meets with her dad once a month so that the two of them don't completely
lose contact, and I admire her for handling the whole situation so pragmatically. I don't
know if I would still be able to look my father in the eyes if he had treated me and my mum
so badly.
“Was she nice to you?” I finally ask.

Lin shrugs his shoulders. »Yeah, I guess. A little too nice
perhaps."
"What do you mean?" "I
don't know. We just didn't click." She starts tearing small pieces off the napkin. "But
that's okay. You just can't get along with everyone."
I think for a moment. "After a while, you surprisingly click with some people." My gaze
automatically goes to James and his friends. They have found one of the good seats by
the high windows and are having a lively conversation. When James says something, it
makes Wren laugh so much that Kesh has to pat him on the back because he choked.
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Lin says, looking meaningfully
at James.
I shake my head and stare at my noodles again.
"Come on. Don't you want to tell me what happened?" "I already did." Lin
raises an eyebrow. "All you
said was 'We picked up the costumes.' But I’m not stupid.” I take a deep breath. »It
was okay. More than okay, actually. Until his parents suddenly
showed up.” Lin takes a hissing breath. “You met the Beauforts?” I nod slowly.
»They were
… very impressive. “Especially his mother,” I

begin. »I didn't have much time to talk to them because they were only there for
a short time. After that, James was back to his usual self.” “What did he do?” Lin asks,
seeming to
remember that she also has a tray of food in front of her. As she looks at me
eagerly, she takes a bite of her sandwich.
»He kicked me out. I was escorted outside.” She pauses mid-chew and stares at
me.
I shrug my shoulders helplessly. I really don't want to think about the

terrible drive back on Saturday where I had to force myself to take deep breaths to
calm myself down.
"It was the most embarrassing thing I've ever experienced," I murmur, risking
another look at James.
At that exact moment he looks at me. As our looks
meet, the anger bubbles up inside me again and I'm about to get up and hit him
with my tray.
But after blinking once, he cuts the connection and turns his attention back to his
friends.
"Why did he kick you out?" asks Lin.
This is exactly what I was thinking about for the rest of the weekend. And I only
came up with one possibility that sounds plausible to me.
“I think he was ashamed of me. You should have seen the way his father
looked at me. As if I were dirt stuck under his shoe." I pull the bowl with the dessert
towards me: chocolate cream with cream, garnished with a strawberry and a mint leaf.
At least this day has one good thing in store for me.
»That's nonsense. You can't expect that feeling from anyone

“Let me mediate,” says Lin, so indignant that I look up.
"It's the truth," I reply. "You would never have looked at me if it hadn't been for that
thing with your parents." Lin flinches as if I'd slapped my chocolate cream on her face. Her
skin turns
ashen and only then do I realize what I've just said. I immediately open my mouth
to apologize, but she jerks to her feet.
“It’s nice that you think so little of me,” she hisses and snaps
her tray, even though she hasn't finished eating yet. She goes to return the
dishes and then leaves the cafeteria without looking back at me.
I stare at my dessert and notice that I'm hungry

has passed. What a crappy day.
As I make my way to the library in the afternoon, I'm almost familiar with the whispers and
looks from my classmates in the hallway
used. It's becoming easier for me to ignore them, even though the echoes of their voices
still ring in my ears. I had not previously given a single thought to the fact that this day
with James could have such an effect on my life at Maxton Hall. What was I thinking?
James is the king of this school - of course people are interested in who he spends
his free time with. Getting into that car with him was a huge mistake. And now I'm
paying for it with my invisibility.
The event meeting is torture. Lin won't look at me, and I can't look at James. It takes
a lot of effort to tell the others about the costumes without letting on how hurt and angry I
am. But it must have worked because after I finished everyone seemed to be excited
about the pictures. Camille then tells us that her parents know the owners of a large cutlery
manufacturer who have agreed to provide us with everything we need for the
celebration. Jessalyn has collected various quotes from decoration
rental companies and is going through them with us, and Kieran is playing us music he
picked out on his laptop.
I only get half of it.

After we have distributed the tasks for the next meeting and declared the meeting
over, I hold Lin back by the arm. She still avoids my gaze, but waits until the rest of the
team has left the group room. I close the door behind them and then turn to my
friend.
“I didn’t mean it,” I begin. »I'm sorry for what I said. I thought just friends. I just
wonder if we would have ever … you were with completely different people before
met like this if it hadn't been for the thing with your parents."
Lin looks at me for a while. Finally she sighs and says quietly: »You're right.« I pause.
»Am I?« She
nods. »If you hadn't come
to me that day,
"We've never been as close as we are now," she says, looking me in the eye for the
first time since this afternoon. "I'm so grateful that you spoke to me in the bathroom that
day."
Her voice becomes raspy and she swallows hard. I still remember the day a year
and a half ago when I went to the toilet on the first floor and heard someone sobbing. I
had no idea who was in the cabin, just that the person must be in really bad shape. So I
carefully asked if everything was okay, to which Lin just said to leave her alone. I
didn't listen to her. Instead, I sat on the floor across from the stall, passed her tissues
under the door, and waited until she was ready to come back out. That was the
beginning of our friendship.
"I'm also grateful that I spoke to you. And I'm really sorry." "Me too. I didn't mean to
annoy you."
"Today is just a bad day," I say resignedly. I take my
phone out of my backpack and take a picture of the notes we wrote on the
whiteboard during the meeting. Then I sit down at my laptop and send the picture to the
others along with the minutes that Lin wrote. Lin starts wiping the whiteboard.
“Beaufort was looking at you the entire lesson,” she says suddenly.
I snort. »I was standing in front. Everyone was looking at me.« »Not like
him. He was practically begging you with his eyes to
looking back at him." "What
nonsense." Lin shrugs
his shoulders. "Whatever you say. Nonetheless, it was great how you just gave him
the cold shoulder. He deserves it.” I close the laptop and put it in my backpack. “I just
want
everything to be like it was before,” I say as we turn off the lights in the room. “People
are staring at me now like we did something else on Saturday. They all have no idea what
really happened. Namely, nothing.”
She hums thoughtfully. »I know. But you know the people here. They
pounce on every little thing like vultures. Especially if it has something to do with James
Beaufort."
I look at her displeased. "Mm."
She gently elbows me in the side and holds the door open for me. "Come on. As
soon as the next rumor gets around, everyone will forget about it." We enter the hallway
and I'm about to answer
when I see someone leaning next to the door.
James.
I stare at him. I almost asked him what the hell he was doing here.
but I remember at the last second that I should ignore him. So I look away and move
on.
Then he pushes himself off the wall and comes towards me.
“Do you have a moment?” he asks. His gentle tone irritates me. He doesn't fit the
James who treated me like shit just forty-eight hours ago.
You have to go now, Ruby.

I would love to shout my opinion in his face, but I value my library card and the key
card for the group rooms too much for that. "No, I don't have time," I say curtly instead. I'm
proud that I manage to keep my voice calm, but still give it emphasis. I want him to
know that I won't let him do that to me.
“We need to talk,” James continues, looking briefly at Lin. “Alone.” I shake my head.
"We don't have to do anything, James." Lin touches my arm, a reassuring
gesture that shows me I'm not alone.
All of a sudden I'm just tired. “You know what?” I say, looking James straight in the
eyes. "Perhaps it would be better if we went back to before." James frowns. “About before?”
I have to clear my throat. A
lump formed in my throat and
gets bigger and bigger. »By that I mean the time when you didn't know I even existed.
Maybe it would be better if we went back there. I was definitely feeling better back
then.”
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and the furrows on his
forehead deepen. Finally he nods slowly. "I understand." That's good. He understands
what my
problem is. So I won't have to deal with him again in the future.
Still, it hurts as I turn around and walk towards the exit with Lin.
OceanofPDF.com
15
Ruby
"What's wrong with you?" Ember asks, and I flinch violently.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts while stirring that I did not notice
that she sneaked behind me and looked over my shoulder into the pot of jam.
“Nothing,” I say a moment too late.

Dad points at me with an unopened packet of gelling sugar.
“Something is wrong, I agree with your sister.”
I roll my eyes. "You're annoying me, that's what's going on." I join in
A little too much momentum and the hot apple jelly splashes onto my hand. I
breathe in with a hiss.
“Rinse it under cold water immediately,” says Mum, taking the spoon from me.
She presses it into Ember's hand and then pushes me to the sink, where
she turns on the cold water.
“Just let me vegetate,” I grumble.
"As far as I'm concerned," Dad says. “It’s just that you have been since your ominous trip
on Saturday, and I would like to know why.«
I'm just grumbling. I don't even have peace at home.
I've never understood why people always complain about Mondays. For me,
every Monday symbolizes a new start where the course can be set for a great week.
Normally I love Mondays, but today everything appeals to me.

The people at school, the memory of Saturday, Ember's curious looks. Even the little
splash on my hand that burns like hell.
Stupid apple jam.
I would prefer to lock myself in my room and stubbornly
memorize the material for the next three months, but my family forced me to help with
the canning. I'm sure that the jam is just an excuse to finally get me to talk.
"Why don't you just tell us what happened?" Ember confirms my suspicion the
next moment.
“Because you don’t really want to know how I’m doing,” I reply. "You're only
asking me because you want to grill me about Beaufort ." "That's not true!" "No?" I
ask
provocatively. “So you’re
not interested in what it was like there?”
Now she shifts unsteadily from one leg to the other. "But already. But
One does not exclude the other. I can be interested in one of the largest men's
outfitters in England, but at the same time I can also be interested in your well-
being. There's room for both in my heart, sis." "How sweet," Dad says, driving
past us both in his
wheelchair
to the stove. He takes a fresh spoon and dips it into the simmering jam. Watching him
taste it is always fascinating. When I try a dish, I look at it. You can tell straight away
that Dad is a professional. His facial expression changes, as if he were … normal
mentally taking apart all the ingredients and wondering whether there
was one missing and, if so, what it could be.
Like now. He tilts his head and we look at him eagerly. The next second his
face lights up and he rolls back a bit to the small metal cart that holds all his spices. He
reaches for a cinnamon mixture and puts a few pinches into the cast iron pot. The smell
reminds me of Christmas – my favorite holiday.
"There's nothing to tell, Ember," I reply belatedly, and my sister groans in frustration.
“ You know everything there is to know about Beaufort .” “I would also like to see the tailor
shop,”
she sighs and supports her
her chin on the palm of her hand.
"Wouldn't that be boring for you? You want to specialize in women's
clothing," Dad admits.
The doorbell rings and we look at each other in surprise.
“Who else could it be?” asks Mum and leaves the kitchen towards the hallway.
“It's all about the atmosphere, Dad. To see how the people are there
work with what materials and cuts. It probably would have been really interesting
anyway." Seeing Ember so longingly gives me a pang. I can understand that she
thinks it's unfair that I was given the opportunity to visit the headquarters of a major
designer - something she probably won't get the chance to do anytime soon. On the other
hand, I also think about how the trip ended for me. And I definitely don't want my sister
to ever have to feel as humiliated as I did in that moment.
"I have an idea. Can't you ask your friend to give me a tour too?" Ember asks, and
the thought that it's only half-joking worries me.
"You can ask him yourself, Ember," Mum says suddenly.

I turn to her, frowning. “What?” “The boy is standing at
our door,” she explains, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. "You
haven't told me how pretty he is." I stare at her, my protective instincts going from zero
to one hundred. "You
You didn't let him in, did you?"
"Of course not. You can do that - or not, if you prefer." Mum comes to me and
kisses my head.
I can feel my family's curious eyes on my back as I cross the kitchen and step
into the hallway. I walk to the front door in a daze.
James is standing on the steps leading to our house. It's the first time I've seen him
in casual clothes. The dark jeans and white shirt make him look like a normal boy. If I had
met him like that on the street, I probably wouldn't have recognized him at all.
A large black protective cover hangs over his arm

Beaufort logo is provided. I stare at the curved B for a moment and am suddenly
overcome by unspeakable anger.
He has no business being here. I don't want him anywhere near it
my family. My life here has nothing to do with my life at Maxton Hall, and the fact that he
is standing in front of me now and blurring the line that I drew years ago is something I
cannot accept - especially not after last Saturday.
The moment I open my mouth to confront him, he takes his eyes off our rose
bushes and spots me in the doorway. An emotion flickers in his eyes that I cannot
interpret – I never manage to do that – and then he goes up a step,
–,
so that we are on equal terms. He clears his throat and finally holds out the
protective cover to me.
»I wanted to bring you the dress. Tristan has altered it. It should fit perfectly
now.« I make no move to take
the dress from him. »And for that
are you coming to my house?«
He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, and rubs the back of his head with his
hand. "I also wanted to talk to you about Saturday. I acted like an asshole, and I'm
sorry." For a moment, all I can do is stare at him.
It's the first time I've heard him say something like that, and I can't help but
wonder how many times he's apologized in his life. When I think about what he has allowed
himself to do in the last few years at school alone, his moral boundaries must usually
be much lower than mine.
Now, however, he really looks like he's sorry.

"I don't understand why you did that," I say quietly.
Especially not after he held my hand and we clearly
a moment together. I saw exactly how warm his gaze became and I could clearly feel the
chemistry between us. I wasn't imagining it.
He swallows hard. He doesn't say anything for a full minute, just staring at me
with inscrutable eyes. Then he murmurs so quietly that I can hardly hear his words: "I
don't understand myself sometimes, Ruby Bell." I open my mouth to reply, but close it
again.
I feel like this is the first time he's been honest with me, and I don't want to ruin that
by rejecting his apology.
So I stay silent. I stay silent for so long that it would certainly be awkward for any other
person, but James and I - I think we could look at each other in silence for hours,
just trying to get a glimpse behind each other's walls.
“Why did you really come here?” I finally ask.

»What you said this afternoon…« He hesitates. »What if I don’t

“Want to go back to before?”
I let out a soundless laugh. »You kicked me out.
And before that, you embarrassed me in front of your parents. You acted like I wasn’t
good enough to get to know her.”
He shakes his head. »I didn't mean it like that.« I see him rocking
back and forth on his feet almost imperceptibly. my
It almost seems as if he is nervous. "I had fun on Saturday. Until my parents …
came." He clears his throat. "I think it would be a shame if we suddenly started acting as
if we didn't know each other. You are no longer invisible to me. And I don't want to pretend
that you are."
Although the bitter aftertaste of Saturday is still there,
His words cause something inside me to clench with tingling excitement. "I don't
understand what you expect from me now, James," I say quietly.
»I don't expect anything. I just don't want things to be like before.

Can't we just... get to know each other from now on?« I look at
him, speechless.
He is not serious, it flashes through my mind. He can
I'm not stupid. I know James can't stand me - even though we had a really good time
together last Saturday. I'm the reason he got banned from lacrosse, and I know one of his
sister's biggest secrets, which puts him and his family at risk.
I guarantee he just wants to keep an eye on me.

“If this is one of your stitches again…” I start skeptically, but James interrupts me.
"No," he says, taking the last step up the stairs.

I know full well that I must not attach any importance to his words. I cannot judge him
- I doubt that anyone can. And yet there is something in his eyes at that moment,
something honest and regretful, that takes my breath away for a second.
How did that happen? How are we within a month of that?

Getting to this point through not knowing and bribing and hating?
The door opens behind me. "Ruby? Is everything okay?"
I stiffen. In front of me stands James Beaufort with a hundred and fifty

year old dress over his arm and a look that makes my knees go weak. Behind me stands
my sister, with whom I was fighting over Dad's jam just a few minutes ago.
My two worlds collide with full force, and I feel cold and hot at the same time. I don't
know how to react, so I just nod at Ember with a forced smile and try to tell her without
words that she should go away. She looks back and forth between me and James,
curious and skeptical at the same time, but then she actually pulls back and ajar the door.
Only then can I turn back to James. It takes me two breaths to collect myself.
Then I remember that I still owe him an answer. "I don't know," I say honestly.
James nods slowly. "OK. I actually just came here to apologize for Saturday.” “Only for
Saturday?” Now he smiles boldly. »I certainly
won't do it
apologize for giving you a lap dance." I don't know if I can accept
his apology if he says something like that.
I don't know if he's serious or if he just wants to smooth things over so I don't
tell anyone about Lydia. Still, it would make my life easier if I didn't have to worry about him
all the time. Or maybe even talk to him about school stuff every now and then. I noticed on
Saturday that he is not only quick-witted, but also intelligent. It was fun talking to him.
And then there was this something that gave me a tingling sensation and made
me curious to know more.
I know it's unreasonable and I shouldn't trust him an inch. But the more I think about
it, the more I realize that I don't actually want to go back to before.
I look him straight in the eyes so that he understands how serious I am when I say:
"I won't let you do that to me again." "Understood," he replies quietly and finally holds
out the dress to me.
At this moment it starts to rain. Not heavily, but still so much that I am worried about
the dress despite the protective cover. I quickly take
Get it from James and keep it safe in our cloakroom.

When I return, countless drops of water have already settled in
James' hair, which now makes its way down his face. He wipes his
cheek with the back of his hand and then runs his hand through his
hair, without taking his eyes off me.
My manners say I should invite him in before he gets soaked by the rain,
but I just can't. It doesn't feel right. I can't introduce him to my parents
and my sister.
Maybe I'll never be able to do that.
“I accept your apology,” I finally say.
His eyes light up. It is the first time that I have seen such a
look on his face.
So we stand in the rain, he on the stairs of my family home, I
in the doorway, unwilling to invite him in.
But it is a start.
OceanofPDF.com
16
James
Watching lacrosse without being able to play just sucks.

My team is pumped with adrenaline as they come out of the locker room, and
one player after another high-fives me as I stand like a spectator on the edge of the field
between the stands.
I endure the misery, but at this moment I simply regret everything, especially the decision
to want to liven up the back-to-school party a bit.
Worst of all, Roger Cree, one of the freshmen, has taken over my position and is
doing so well that he is becoming serious competition. If he had been bad, my place
in the team would have been safe, but like that? How am I supposed to know that the
coach doesn't want to keep him on the team after my punishment is up? Especially
since he recently seems to be getting along well with Cyril and the others.
When he comes and holds out his fist, I reluctantly bump it with mine and then
sit on the bench on the sidelines with the substitutes. I cross my ankles and watch the
opposing team run onto the field and line up in front of my boys.
The team is good, I recognize many of the players from last season. One attacker
in particular is unpredictable and incredibly fast. Hopefully Cyril will keep an eye on
him.
»Hey, Beaufort. It's a shame you're not allowed to play," says suddenly
one of the substitutes said to me. His name is Matthew, but I doubt we've ever exchanged
a word.
"Yeah, man. Total bullshit," another agrees.
"I don't understand what this punishment is all about. The incident was totally
outrageous."
»Most importantly, it's your last year. “It sucks to spend the last season on the bench.”
Okay, that's enough. I stand up abruptly. Without saying a word, I walk to the
edge of the pitch. I'm glad I'm wearing sunglasses. Not only because the sun is
shining really brightly for an October day, but above all because no one can see
how bad I'm feeling.
I stand some distance away from Coach Freeman and survey the field with
my arms crossed. It's cruel to have to watch my team and not be able to do anything.
After kickoff, it takes less than five minutes for the opponents to score their first goal.
Suddenly footsteps sound behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Ruby
and her friend Lin running toward the field.
Both of them have bright red faces and disheveled hair. As they stop, Ruby
curses loudly. She hasn't spotted me yet, so I get the chance to look her over discreetly.
She wears her school uniform, although most of our classmates come to the
games in casual clothes or team shirts. She's holding a tripod in one hand, a notebook
in the other, and on her back, as always, is her hideous backpack that looks like it's
about to fall apart at any second. It's pretty much the color of vomit, but it somehow
makes her look cute. Like a ninja turtle. A disheveled ninja turtle with a bright red head.
I leisurely stroll over to the two of them and look at them,

how they set up the tripod and an expensive looking camera.
“Can I help?” I ask.
Ruby spins around and looks at me with wide eyes.
Apparently she still hasn't gotten used to my attempts to befriend her. I've been
greeting her in the hallways all week, and every time she's flinched, as if she's just not
used to someone talking to her outside of class.
"Did we miss something?" she asks frantically. Her gaze darts across the field
and then to Coach Freeman. But he is so engrossed in the game that he hasn't noticed
that Ruby and Lin are late.
"Ridgeview scored a goal. Slam dunk," I reply.

Ruby nods and scribbles something in her notebook. "Great thank you."
Meanwhile, Lin sets up the camera and checks the

settings before she starts taking pictures.
Afterwards, both of them are engrossed in documenting the game.
I find that I actually much prefer watching Ruby's than mine
Team. At least the sight of them hurts a lot less. We have long since made up
the deficit and are about to really destroy Ridgeview - but I can't be
happy about it no matter how hard I try. When Cree provides the assist for two
goals and even scores one himself in the second half, I realize that the boys don't need
me at all. I would prefer to disappear right now and I have no idea why I don't just do it.
Instead, I stand on the sidelines with a stony face and let it all happen, clapping
when a goal is scored, cursing when the opponents make a move against us, and in
between answering all the questions Ruby and Lin ask me.
After almost an hour and a half, I don't feel like I have

took the world by storm, just like we usually do when we win a game. I'm just
completely exhausted and can't stand being here another second. The thought of going
to Cyril's party tonight and collecting expressions of sympathy from everyone who
saw me standing on the sidelines today makes me sick. Without a word, I turn around,
even before the team leaves the field, and walk towards the school. I dig my phone
out of my pocket and press speed dial for Percy to come pick me up.
“James!” I
glance over my shoulder.
Ruby ran after me. Her pony and the wind don't get along
special, individual strands stand straight up. She notices my gaze and presses
them back down onto her forehead. This is one of her quirks that I have particularly
noticed in the last week.
I now also know about the small comb that she carries around in her pencil
case and uses when she feels unobserved.
"What's up?" I ask.

»Are you OK?« Why is
she asking me that? Nobody asks me that – because nobody cares how I
am. And even if the
If it wasn't like that, then most people would be too afraid or respectful of me to ask me
that question.
“Must be pretty bad watching the others play, right?” she asks gently.
“Yep.”
She shifts from one leg to the other. “Would you rather be alone?” I rub the back of
my neck uncertainly and shrug my shoulders.
Thank God Alistair saves me from answering. His face bright red, he jogs across the
grass and stops in front of us.
"Beaufort! Where are you going, my friend?" Okay,
that's an even stupider question than Ruby's. "Home." "Have you forgotten? We're
having a party at Cy's today." I haven't forgotten, but
unfortunately Cyril's party is the last thing I feel like doing right now. But I can't
tell Alistair that. The team won and I'm still the captain, although I'm currently
suspended. It would be unfair not to celebrate this victory with my boys. Not to mention that
I don't want to answer the questions that would surely come if I didn't show up tonight.
"Sure, I'm in." Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ruby's expression change. I
avoid looking at her directly.
“Don’t make that face, man. This will be great. We have that
“The whole house for us.” I
just grumble.
"Hey, why don't you come with me, Ruby?" I look warningly at Alistair, but he just
looks back and forth between Ruby and me, grinning.
"You don't have to come," I say quickly. Cyril's party is definitely not the right place
for someone like Ruby. "I don't think you'd like it there." I realize I've said exactly the wrong
thing when Ruby frowns.
She looks like I've challenged her - but that's the opposite of what I meant. "How do
you know what I like and what I don't like?" Alistair coughs quietly and I give him a
withering look
to. He did that on purpose. He knows exactly what goes on at these parties and what
the people there are like.
"I'd love to come, Alistair. Thank you for the invitation," says Ruby with a smile that's
far too sweet to be real.
“When should I be where?”

Alistair is just opening his mouth to respond when I intervene.
"I'll pick you up."

Ruby's shoulders stiffen.
"That's really not necessary, James." "I
have no problem picking you up on the way." She raises her eyebrows. “Do
you even have a driving license?” Alistair whistles approvingly. Apparently you
like it
him to watch me get verbally beaten.
I look at Ruby, shaking my head.
"Percy will drive us if that's okay with you." Now she's grinning
from ear to ear. "That's actually perfectly okay with me."
»Percy, hm? I don't think he's bad either. He's got something of Antonio
Banderas,” comments Alistair.
»That’s what I said!« Ruby laughs – and I feel warm.
Damn it. Why can't I keep a cool head around her? I promised Lydia I'd keep an eye
on her - and that's all there is between us. I just have to remind myself of that often enough.
"Good, Percy will be with you at

eight." Ruby nods. "Fabulous."
Ruby
Cyril Vega lives in the biggest and most pompous house I've ever seen in my life.
I'm not even sure if "house" is the right term for what I'm looking at. The property, which
we only got onto after Percy's license plate was checked by a security guard via camera,
seems endless. When I look left and right, I see nothing but well-kept lawns and
symmetrically planted bushes and trees.
As James and I get out of the car, I stop for a moment, tilt my head back and take
in the impressive facade. The tall columns to the right and left of the entrance and the
The expansive balcony directly above makes the mansion seem like it comes from
another era.
James, sitting next to me, seems completely unimpressed as we climb the
white stone steps to the oversized front door. But that's no surprise. For one thing,
Cyril is one of his best friends, and for another, the house he lives in is certainly at least
as big. I feel my palms go cold and then clammy.
What am I doing here?

I swore I would never go to one of those weird parties. But one stupid comment from
James was enough to awaken my fighting spirit. I just had to do the opposite of what he
wanted, which in hindsight is just totally stupid. I've been annoyed since Monday that the
trip with James destroyed my invisibility in Maxton Hall - and now I'm
accompanying him to this party where most of my classmates will be.
I didn't think for a second this afternoon about what this would mean for me. Guaranteed
to get people talking about us again – probably even more.
Even from out here we can hear the music and loud voices of the partygoers. For a
split second I consider faking a sudden bout of nausea and getting out of there.
But I don't want to give James that satisfaction. So I just wipe my hands on my skirt
and clear my throat. James gives me a sideways glance, which I ignore. Then he opens
the front door with a key that he oddly carries on his key chain.
We enter the entrance hall, which is so impressive that it makes me

distracts me from my nervousness for a moment. It is tiled with marble and sumptuously
furnished; in addition to the subtle colors of the furniture, there are gold and white
accents everywhere. A huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and two staircases on
the left and right lead up to a gallery at asymmetrical angles.
At first glance it looks like the party is taking place throughout the house. The music
seems to come from another room, but there are also a few guests milling about in the
foyer. None of them pay any attention to us. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“What are they doing up there?” I ask James and point to them
twenty boys and girls standing in the gallery.
“Playing a weird version of beer pong that’s unique to Cyril,” he replies.
I watch as a guy drops something from above - ping pong balls, I

realize belatedly. They shoot downstairs to the foyer, where a row of cups is set up. A
few of the balls hit right in, but most of them miss, causing the guys to cheer, a few girls
to scream, and what feels like all of them to drink.
"I don't understand." "Me

neither," he replies.
»You did it!« someone suddenly yells above us. I look
up and just noticed Cyril swinging onto one of the railings. He clings to it and
races down. Just the sight of it is enough to make me feel sick. Wren appears behind him,
but opts for the safer option and takes the steps. As he walks, he puts his head back and
empties his glass.
Cyril is the first to reach us and greets James with a half-hug and a pat
on the back. "I hope we made you proud today."
I can feel James tensing up next to me. "You did," he says in a neutral tone that neither
expresses exuberant joy nor betrays the fact that he must have been frustrated today not
being able to play himself.
Cyril's eyes land on me. “And you are…?” he asks, his ice blue eyes gliding over
me from top to bottom. He looks at my white blouse with blue vertical stripes and my black
pleated skirt and looks like he's about to turn up his nose at any moment.
Asshole. As if he would look better just because his black

Shirt probably cost more than my entire outfit.
“Ruby,” James jumps in and introduces us to each other. »Ruby, this is Cyril.«
»Ruby!
Alistair said he invited you.” Wren arrives
grinning at us. I suppress the impulse to look away.
"Hi," I answer, forcing a smile onto my lips.
He greets James briefly, then his gaze falls back on me. The message he
sends me with his dirty, arrogant smile is unmistakable: This is my kingdom. I'm in
charge here.
The next moment James puts his hand on my back. »Cy,

be a good host and offer us a drink.« He speaks in his I am
James Beaufort tone, and while I
I would never let him boss me around like that, his friends don't seem to mind. They
just laugh and then lead us past the stairs to the back of the foyer. As we go, Cyril picks
up a few of the balls and throws them up before opening a door that leads into a large
drawing room.
The room is smaller than the foyer, but there are certainly
fifty people inside, talking or dancing. The music is deafeningly loud and smoke
rises into my nose and makes my eyes water.
I can count the parties I've been to so far on one hand.

There were small get-togethers in our park in Gormsey and, once, a classmate's fifteenth
birthday party. She invited me out of false politeness and I went because Mum insisted I
make an attempt to get to know my classmates. That ended with me standing in a
corner for half the evening, swaying oddly to bad music, mentally counting the minutes until
I could go home.
What is happening before my eyes has nothing at all in common with that. Instead of
cheap beer in plastic cups, guests drink expensive spirits from crystal glasses. The music
doesn't come from a boombox, but from a sound system whose speakers are
installed in various places in the walls. I can also see a whole lot of bare skin.
So this is an elite party.

I look around and try to take in all the impressions. The bass of the
music is so loud that the ground vibrates beneath my feet.
Only at second glance do I discover the glazed winter garden,

which is connected to the room. Inside there is a huge illuminated pool that I
will definitely stay away from.
A few guests swim in it in their underwear and splash people
wet at the edge. Others sit smoking and drinking in velvet
covered sofas that look antique and certainly cost a fortune.
I'm so overwhelmed by the situation that I just realize that

James asks me something when it is already too late. "Excuse me?"
James leans down a little towards me so that his mouth opens
level of my ear. “Whatever you want to drink, Ruby Bell.”
A shiver runs down my spine and goosebumps spread across my arms. I ignore both.
"A Coke, if they have one.
Otherwise, water.”
James leans back a little and looks me in the eyes. »Does it bother
you when I drink?" I shake
my head. »No.« »Very nice. I'll be
right back." The next moment he and Cyril
disappeared. Wren stays back and looks at me again with that knowing grin on
her face.
“You don’t drink anything?” His voice is pure provocation.
It takes an incredible amount of willpower not to immediately
to turn around and leave him standing there. Or to shout at him in front of
everyone. But I managed to ignore him for two years - I wouldn't let a few
stupid comments throw me off track now.
"No," I answer curtly.

Wren comes a little closer. I immediately back away.
“Why not, Ruby?” he asks, taking another step towards me
until I feel the wall at my back »Have you had bad experiences with alcohol?«
I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and I also notice

how huge his pupils are. I wonder if he gets high on something other than Scotch.
"You know exactly why I don't drink, Wren," I reply coldly, straightening my
shoulders. If he doesn't leave me alone, I'm going to hurt him seriously. To my left, out of
the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark wooden dresser with several statues and a
lamp on it.
I know how to defend myself.
"I have very fond memories of that evening," Wren replies. He raises his left arm and
rests it on the wall next to my head.
“But I don’t,” I say through gritted teeth. So far he has always left me alone at
school. He never even gave a hint about what happened that evening two years ago -
why today of all times?
"Really?" he whispers and comes even closer.

Short circuit. I reach out with both hands and press him firmly from
away from me. “I don’t want a repeat, Wren.”
He takes my hands and intertwines our fingers together.
I look around in panic in all directions. “I can still hear exactly what you whispered to
me back then.”
"It was only because you got me drunk." "Oh really?" He
has that dirty smile on his face again. "Alcohol brings the most secret thoughts
to the surface, Ruby. You wanted it at least as much as I did."
I freeze as the memory of that night finally makes it to the

The surface of my memory creates: Wren's panting breath, his restless hands all over
my body. The thought of it makes me hot. On the one hand because of embarrassment,
on the other hand because I actually enjoyed it. It's just the way it happened
that still disturbs me today.
Wren is just opening her mouth again when a voice comes from behind her
us, which sounds stern and bored at the same time. "Leave her alone,
Fitzgerald."
His eyes widen and I look past him in surprise. Lydia has come over to us. She gives
Wren an exasperated look before, without another word, grabbing my hand and pulling
me away from him and a little way into the room. Only when we are out of earshot does
she look at me with raised eyebrows.
»Who would have thought that someone like you would have a dirty
carries a secret with him?”
Panic fills me and I ball my hands into fists at my sides. But before I can say
a word, she raises her hands. An amused smile plays on her lips. "No worries. "I'm
not telling anyone." I stare at her, and it takes me a moment to realize what
she said. “I don’t care who knows,” I say defiantly, even though we both know it’s a
blatant lie.
If I could, I would like to erase that evening from my own memory. I was fifteen
at the time and had just arrived at Maxton Hall. It was the first event I was able to attend
and I was so excited and nervous that I happily accepted all the cups of punch Wren
brought me. I didn't know he had added alcohol from a hip flask to get me drunk. And
when he pulled me into the hallway and kissed me, I was totally euphoric. Wren was one
of the most attractive boys I've ever seen. And he wanted me.
Getting my first kiss from him felt like a rush.
It wasn't until the next morning that I realized how wrong he was to get me drunk
without knowing it and how naive I had been. I haven't touched alcohol since.
Across from me, Lydia raises an eyebrow. »Really? I

“I would have expected your reputation to be worth more to you.”
"The fact that I got drunk and made out with someone isn't going to ruin my
reputation. It's not like I had an affair with a teacher." I regret the words the moment I say
them. Lydia
turns white as a sheet. The next second she takes a threatening step towards me.
"You said you'd keep your mouth shut. I..." She stops abruptly and moves away again.
»There you are.« James comes over and hands me a glass of Coke,
Ice cubes and lemon slice. He himself is holding an expensive-looking crystal glass
with brown liquid in his hand.
He slowly looks back and forth between me and Lydia. “Are you okay?” “Brother,
can you maybe get me something to drink too?
My glass is empty,” Lydia says, batting her eyelashes a few times in an exaggerated
manner.
James rolls his eyes, but takes her glass and turns back to the bar. As soon as
he's gone, Lydia's smile fades again. She looks at me with cold eyes and I swallow
hard. I wish I hadn't come here. I don't want to be in this room, I want to be at home,
where I feel safe and secure. This is the exact opposite of that - an adventure I'm not up
to.
»Listen,« I say, before she can threaten me again. »I'm sorry,

that I just said that.«
Her mouth opens and closes. Then she looks at me skeptically.
"What?"
"I'm not your enemy," I continue. “And I don’t care what
between you and Mr Sutton. I will not reveal your secret
betrayed."
She presses her lips tightly together.

"I just want to be left alone," I try.
"Why should I believe you?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "I don't even know you."
"That's true," I say. "But
James knows me. And I promised him." "You promised him," she repeats, as if she
doesn't quite
understand the meaning of the words.
“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

She is silent for a moment and just looks at me suspiciously.
But then her expression changes. Suddenly she no longer looks skeptical, but as if
some puzzle pieces have come together in her head. Her gaze wanders from my face to a
point over my shoulder. "So that's how it is," she finally says.
Confused, I turn around, trying to figure out what she means. I see James standing
at the bar. He pulls out one bottle after another, lifting them up and studying the labels.
"What's what?" I ask.

She smiles at me reassuringly. "Don't worry, you're not the first." I have no idea what
she's talking about.
»Many girls fall for his charm much earlier.« Then it clicks. And I can't help
it: I burst out laughing.
Lydia pauses. "What's so funny?" "I don't
know if anyone has ever told you this, but your brother is pretty much the opposite
of charming." She stares at me and it looks like she doesn't know
whether to hiss at me or laugh. James makes the decision for her, because he chooses
this moment to come back to us.
"Here," he says, holding out Lydia's drink. "For you, sister."

She glances at it briefly, then looks back at me. "I

keep an eye on you, Ruby." With these words she turns around and disappears into the
crowd.
“What was that?” James asks irritated, looking at her strawberry blonde
Schöpf, which at some point disappears between people.
When I just shrug my shoulders, he frowns.
»What did she say?«
»Nothing. She doesn't trust me and doesn't believe that I
really keep my mouth shut.”
James lets his gaze wander around the room. It seems like he has to think about
his next words, like he's not sure what he can and can't tell me. "She finds it difficult to
trust other people."
I look at him questioningly.

»Very few people would keep such a secret,
Ruby.” He shrugs. "On the contrary. Ninety percent of people would sell it to the press or
try to blackmail us with it. It wouldn't be the first time someone has spent time with us
just to get our family secrets." He avoids my eyes as he says this, instead continuing
to watch the people dancing in the middle of the room.
“That sounds shitty.” One

corner of his mouth twists slightly. "It is." I've never thought about it. It
doesn't excuse James'
Behavior, but with this information I can understand him - and Lydia - a little better.
"I wonder what I'm even doing here when everyone distrusts me so much."
He lets his gaze slide thoughtfully over my face. He raises his hand as if he wanted to
touch me, but lets it fall again and instead takes a sip from the glass that was actually
intended for Lydia. His second drink. "You're here because Alistair invited you," he finally
says.
»That’s right,« I murmur and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear,

that constantly tickles my chin. »Alistair. If it were up to you, I wouldn't be here right
now." "It's not."
“Then what?” I have no idea why the thought of him not wanting me here bothers me
so much.
»This is just not the place where you belong, Ruby.« It feels like he has
stabbed me with something – a small
Knife maybe. It takes a lot of effort not to let the pain show.
"So … I didn't mean it like that," he says immediately. Apparently I didn't manage to
show pain as well as I thought.
"It's clear." I turn away from him and look through the large ones
Glass window to the pool, where someone has just jumped in fully clothed.
After a few seconds, James moves close in front of me and fills my entire field of vision.
»Hey, come on. I just wanted to say that I don't feel good about letting you near
some people. In the end they try to sell you something. I feel responsible for you." "I
can take good care of myself, thank you very much," I reply acidly.
Again he looks at me intently and I take a mini sip

of my Coke to break eye contact. When he looks at me like that, I get warm, and it's
already too stuffy in here.
“I definitely don’t want to be a drag on your leg. behave yourself
“Just like you normally do,” I finally say with a wave of my hand that encompasses the
entire room. Whatever James does at parties like this, he should do it. I don't want him
to act like a babysitter.
He nods and downs his second drink. Then takes

He takes my glass from me and places it with his on one of the bar tables.
The next moment he's back at me, grabbing my hand. He pulls me further into the middle
of the room, right between the dancing people. My heart is pounding and I wonder
what the hell he's planning as he pulls me a little closer to him. His chest brushes against
mine and he squeezes my hand briefly before he lets go and starts moving to the beat
of the music.
James Beaufort dances towards me. He looks down at me, smiling and
makes circular movements with his hips.
»What are you doing?« I ask, confused. I am the only one who
stands stiffly on the dance floor.
"I'm doing what I usually do at parties," James replies.
Again, his look seems like a challenge that I just have to accept. I try to move like
he does.
When someone bumps into me from behind, I stumble against him and he puts a hand
on my waist to steady me. My throat goes dry and my heart beats faster. An incredible
heat overcomes me as I look up at him again. We are pressed so close together that not
even a sheet of paper would fit between us.
Someone is cheering next to us. I tear my eyes away from James' face
and look around. At least five pairs of eyes are on us.
I must have lost my mind. James and I may now
coexist peacefully, but this is something completely different. And if I don't want rumors
about us to spread like wildfire in the school, I really need to get off this dance floor.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I manage. James immediately pulls away.

His eyes sparkle knowingly, and at this moment I am far too confused to
understand what that means. He nods towards the left corner of the salon, where a
hallway begins behind a high arch.
»First on the right, second door on the left.«
I slip between the dancing boys and girls and then walk down the hallway. Oil
paintings of Vegas family members hang on the wall, and the wallpaper shimmers green
and gold in the glow of the lamps. The dark red carpet beneath my feet has an elaborate
pattern of various abstract shapes reminiscent of animals. I turn right, as
James said. This part of the hallway is completely empty, and I lean against the wall
for a moment.
I really have no idea what I'm doing here. Just

Apart from the fact that I feel completely out of place, James makes me feel
insecure. His touches, his looks, his whispered words - if I didn't know better, I'd say he's
flirting with me.
When he showed up at my door on Monday and said he didn't want to go back
to the way things were, I didn't expect it to turn out like this. Does he dance like this with all
his friends?
Probably yes.
Maybe I just have to look at it as a task. These people are

my classmates, whether I like it or not. And if I make it to Oxford, I will have to deal
with some of them and many other sons and daughters of rich families.
I take a deep breath, clench my fists and push myself off the wall with renewed
courage. I'm going to freshen up and then I'm going to go back to the lounge, finish my
Coke and dance with James. What could possibly happen? People would be talking about
me anyway, so at least I can have a little fun.
With this decision I step towards the door, which is a few meters
further down the hall to the left, and open it, hoping to find the bathroom behind
it. The room is pitch black except for the light coming in from the hall. It takes my eyes a
moment to adjust, but then I can make out the outline of a large antique secretary,
a seating area with upholstered chairs, and... lots of bookshelves.
This is definitely not the bathroom – this is a library! I

I hesitate for just a moment, then I take a curious step inside and look around. There
are more books on the first shelf alone than we have in our entire house. A smile
spreads across my face and I dare to take another step further and then I hear it.
…
Heavy breathing. And muffled sighs.

Turn around and leave, a shrill voice calls in my head, but
It's already too late. My gaze falls on Alistair, who is leaning against one of the
bookshelves further back in the room. He has thrown his head back and is groaning
loudly at this very second.
A soft smacking sound is heard. "If you keep being so loud, I'll stop." I freeze. This
voice
sounds familiar. It is quiet and
deep, a bit smoky.
“Go on,” Alistair says, his head falling forward.
The guy who was kneeling in front of him stands up. “Only if you ask nicely.”
Alistair pulls him
down by his hair to kiss him. The guy supports himself with both hands on the shelf
next to Alistair's head and
returns the kiss. Then I realize who he is.

Keshav.
I take a sharp breath as Keshav’s mouth is on Alistair’s face
down to his neck.
At that second Alistair spots me at the door.
“Kesh, stop,” he whispers in panic and pushes his friend away.
I turn on my heel and flee the library back into the hallway. I look around in panic and
decide to run back into the salon. I push past people dancing, their faces blurring before
my eyes, and scan the room for James.
I spot him with his sister, Cyril and Wren near the
Pool. They're talking about something, Wren gesticulating wildly in the air.
I need a moment to collect myself.

Why the hell do I always have to catch people making out when they clearly don't want
an audience? Since when do I collect strangers' secrets? That's not normal.
It takes incredible effort for me to calm down and at least somewhat calm
down. I decide that I have to go back on my decision from just now. I can't have fun
here and I'll never get used to these people.
I want to go to James and ask him to take me home, but he is standing so close to
the pool that I hesitate for a moment. The sight of the water makes me feel sick. Finally, I
gather up my courage and carefully enter the conservatory. I stop at the wall a little way
away from the group. Wren is the first to spot me. "There she is."
I give him a small nod and almost breathe a sigh of relief as James walks the two
steps that separate us towards me. I never thought he would be the person I feel most
comfortable with at a party, but today he actually is. He has become my focal point
and I have to stop myself from reaching for his hand.
“Are you okay?” James asks. He has a new glass in his hand, this time
again with brown contents. Meanwhile, a slight blush can be seen on his cheeks.
"I'd like to go home soon," I whisper, still out of breath.
James frowns, but nods immediately. Apparently you can tell I'm about to go crazy.
He finishes his glass before setting it down on the nearest table. "That's okay."
»Oh, come on. Since when do you leave my parties before four o'clock
in the morning?' asks Cyril, offended.
“Since I have someone to bring home,” James retorts, looking blankly at his
friend. There it is again, the insurmountable arrogant wall.
"Come on, Ruby. Don't be a spoilsport. Let's have our friend," Wren says,
crouching down to splash water from the pool with her hand. A few drops hit my neck
and it feels like all the air is being squeezed out of my lungs.
“Stop it,” I hiss, barely recognizing my voice because it sounds so shrill.
“Are you made of sugar or what?” asks Cyril, laughing. He no longer has a shirt on
and is wearing black swimming trunks. His hair is still damp from swimming. He takes a
step closer. I back away and cling to James' arm. I don't care what others think.
"Come on, Cy. Leave her alone," says James, but now even his authoritative
tone is no use. Cyril grins at me like a predator. The next moment he leaps towards
me, grabs my bag and hands it to a grinning Lydia.
"Cyril, I'm warning you..." I say breathlessly - but it's too late. He pulls me into a hug
that has nothing loving about it and pulls me into the pool with him. I'm still screaming as I
hit the water with full force, and I'm kicking my arms and legs in panic.
Then we go under and my heart stops for a second.

Suddenly I'm no longer in the Vegas house, but in a murky yellow-green lake. I'm no
longer seventeen, but eight years old. And I can no longer swim, but am helpless at the
mercy of the bitterly cold water.
I can not breath.

The algae pull me into the depths and I can't move.
My arms don't work, my legs are also out of action
set. I have no control over my body.

The pressure on my chest is increasing rapidly. And then I have no choice but to
breathe in the water.
OceanofPDF.com
17
James
While Wren and my sister laugh loudly as Cyril resurfaces, splashing water at us, I stare
after Ruby, who has become a dark, blurry spot beneath the water's surface. At first she
was thrashing like crazy, but now she's not moving at all.
Something is not right.

"If she knew we already knew the dead-playing trick, she wouldn't pull it,"
says Wren, holding out her hand to help Cyril out of the pool.
Ruby still doesn't show up. Deep down I know that something is very wrong. My
heart is pounding like crazy and I start running.
"James, I don't think they really need help..." I don't hear the rest of Lydia's
sentence because I do a headfirst dive into the water. I swim towards Ruby in long
strokes, wrap my arm around her upper body and pull her up.
She doesn't move.

"Ruby," I gasp when we're back on the surface. I shake her. “Ruby!” Suddenly she
flails her arms. She's
coughing and gasping for breath, and I'm holding her tightly to my chest so she
doesn't sink again.
She is completely beside herself. »Get me out of here,« she demands shrilly. »I have
to get out of here!«
I nod and swim with her to the edge of the pool. Then I lift
lift her up by her hips and place her on the edge of the pool. She coughs loudly
and profusely again to get rid of the water she has inhaled in such a short time. I pull
myself up on the edge and sit next to her, holding her as she gags.
“Get me out of here.” Her voice is a broken croak, that

Something inside me is shaken. I stand up and help Ruby up. She
has looked down, but I can still see the tears mixing with the drops of water on her face.
When she stands on both feet again, she falls to the side. I feel her body shaking so I
squat down a bit to pick her up. She doesn't even protest, instead she buries her face in
my neck so no one can see she's crying.
I angrily turn to Cyril, who has lost his grin.

“You fucking motherfucker,” I say quietly. I would have preferred to scream it in his
face, but I don't want to scare Ruby.
With her in my arms, I turn around and go out the back door
in the winter garden outside.
It takes Percy a while to come, but he has towels and a change of clothes with him. Ruby
avoids my gaze as I wrap her in several towels and begin to dry her off. She is still shaking
all over. Percy silently hands me another towel, which I place on her head. Then I squeeze
the water out of her hair. I'm probably exaggerating, but I'm going to keep rubbing her
dry until she stops shaking. Even if it takes all night.
Suddenly, her body is shaken by a silent sob. I freeze. It hurts so much

to watch someone as strong as her cry, and I have no idea what to do. All I can do is
continue to dry her off, stroke her back in gentle circles, and then ask Percy to give
me the Maxton Hall sweatshirt he also brought with him.
“Can you unbutton your blouse?” I ask carefully.

Ruby doesn't show any sign of having heard me. Since I doubt that she could do
anything with her shaking fingers anyway, I pull the sweatshirt over her head. I pull the
fabric down over her upper body and then blindly start to unbutton her blouse. When it's
open, I carefully push it off her shoulders and then help her put her arms through the
sleeves of the sweater. I'm just about to put the hood on her when she raises her hands
and grasps my forearms. Her fingers are still ice cold.
The next moment she lets her head fall forward against my chest and takes a
deep breath. Her breathing is as shaky as her whole body. I find it terrible to see her
like this.
“This is all my fault,” I whisper.
Ruby lifts her head from my chest and looks up at me. Her
Eyes are still shimmering suspiciously, but now I have the impression that she
has a bit of control over herself again. She looks like Ruby again. The stubborn,
combative Ruby who doesn't take anything from anyone. A huge stone falls from my
heart and a feeling spreads through my chest that feels heavy and light at the same time.
I turn away from her and unbutton my own shirt to put on the second sweater that
Percy brought.
"Come on. Let's take you home," I finally say and hold
opened the door of the Rolls-Royce for her.
She gets in and I slide onto the seat next to her. As Percy drives off, I let my
head sink against the backrest. Suddenly the alcohol makes itself felt again and the
world spins a little faster than it should.
Ruby moves next to me and I glance at her.

She has pulled the sleeves of my blue sweatshirt down to her fingers so
that her hands disappear completely under the fabric.
The urge to reach for her overcomes me. I quickly look away again.
"I'm terrified of water," Ruby whispers into the silence.

I have to force myself not to look at her. I think she will feel safer if I continue to
look out the window and not at her. "How come?"
It takes a moment for her to answer. »My dad likes to fish. He used to take
me on his boat and we would spend entire weekends together on different lakes.
We had an accident when I was eight.” Her body

tenses next to mine, and I sense that she must be stuck in a terrible memory.
Her breath hitches.
Now I grab her hand and wrap my fingers around the fabric above it.
She feels small and fragile, I'm sure

Ruby is the exact opposite of fragile .
»What happened?«
»We were rammed by a larger boat that didn't see us
Ours was completely destroyed and my dad hit it hard. His head was overextended
and a vertebra was shattered." I give her hand a quick squeeze.
"He's been in a wheelchair ever since. And I'm terrified of water," she finishes
quickly.
I think there's a lot more to the story, but I won't bother. What she told me is enough
to give me an idea of what must have been going through her mind when Cyril dragged
her into the pool.
"I'm sorry," I say, feeling like an idiot at the same time. She just shared one
of her most traumatic experiences with me, and all I can manage is a lame apology.
»It's okay. You're not like your friends.« Her hand dips
under the sweatshirt and she carefully feels for mine. I link our fingers together
and hesitantly stroke the back of her hand with my thumb.
»That's not true,« I mutter, shaking my head. »I'm just like

my friends. Worse, even."
She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. "Right now, you're not." For the rest of
the drive we fall into amicable silence as I ponder what she's just confided in me.
Ruby eventually dozes off and her head falls onto my shoulder. Her hand doesn't let go
of mine for a second, and thoughtfully I continue to run my thumb over her skin, which
luckily is now warm again.
After twenty minutes we arrive at Ruby's house. The light is still on inside and I
should actually wake her up. But I can't bring myself to do that yet, not when she looks
so peaceful right now.
"She's a sweet girl, Mr. Beaufort," Percy's voice suddenly rings out through the
speaker above my head. I look ahead, even though the partition is up. "Don't screw it
up." "I have no idea what you're talking about," I reply.
But I don't let go of Ruby's hand.
OceanofPDF.com
18
Ruby
Ember and I spend Saturday in our pajamas. Mum and Dad are with friends and we're
taking advantage of the fact that we can hog the kitchen by baking chocolate chip
cookies. We're just about making sure that the dough bowl is actually empty when the
doorbell rings. Ember and I both jump and stare at each other. Then I tap my finger on
my nose at breakneck speed. Ember groans in pain as she realizes her defeat and
trudges towards the hallway.
A little later I hear a bold voice that is very familiar to me. "Hi, are you Ember? I'm
Lin. Where is your sister? I urgently need to talk to her!" Before I even have time to blink,
Lin is
standing in front of me and holding
me her cell phone. “Don’t tell me it’s really you.”
For a moment I can only stare at her. It is the first time Lin has been to my
house. So far she has only picked me up a few times and always waited in the car by the
road. Her presence should really make me nervous. After all, 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 I see her standing in our kitchen, the more I realize that the opposite is
the case. I am glad she came here. Our argument the other day made it clear to me
that we are not just school friends, but could be more. Maybe it is time for me to dare to
open up a little.
I deliberately put the spatula in my mouth again,

so as not to have to answer. Unimpressed, Lin takes a few more steps until she is
standing right in front of me and holding the phone so close to my nose that I have to
lean back to be able to see anything at all in the dark photo.
It shows James from behind and he is carrying someone with his arms wrapped
tightly around his neck and his face buried in his neck.
You can't tell that the person is me, but nevertheless the heat rises to my cheeks. I wonder
how many pictures of that moment still exist. And who has seen them all?
“Ruby?” Lin asks, her tone suddenly a lot less brisk. "What happened yesterday?" "I
was at Cyril's party," I
finally say. "I told you that." "Yes, you did. What I want to know is what happened
here ."
"What happened where?" Ember asks, grabbing the cell phone from Lin's
hand. Her mouth drops open as she stares at the photo. “Is that really you?” “Yes,”
I admit and swallow hard. This day with Ember was supposed to be a distraction. I wanted
to
push away the thoughts of last night and stop my head from spinning. That, I don't
even know what that was. Let alone what happened yesterday, how should I put it into
words or deal with it?
…
"Tell me immediately what happened yesterday," my sister demands in her I-will-not-

bear-backtalk tone that she clearly inherited from Mum.
I lean down to the oven to look at the cookies. Unfortunately
They are not ready yet and cannot save me from Lin and Ember's questioning looks.
I sigh quietly, drop the spatula back into the bowl and then nod towards the dining room.
After we have sat down, I start to tell the story.
At the end of my story, the two of them look at me with completely different
facial expressions. Lins is primarily skeptical.
Ember, on the other hand, has her chin resting on one hand and is smiling dreamily at me.
"This Beaufort seems like a really nice guy," she sighs.

"He's not!" Lin says in disbelief. "The guy you were talking about - that couldn't
possibly have been James Beaufort." I just shrug. It seems unreal to me, too, in
retrospect, that he actually went so far as to protect me from his friends, but he did.
Even more than that. He took care of me. Dressed me and acted like a gentleman. He
held my hand when I told him about the thing…
with Dad.
Last night changed things between us. I can feel that clearly. A tingling sensation
runs through my entire body when I think of his gaze and the way his fingers grazed
my bare skin. How my body briefly trembled with heat and James thought I was still
cold - but the exact opposite was the case. The way he touched me like I was
formed from thin, fragile glass.
"That's exactly what I meant when I told you to be careful," Lin says, shaking her
head and bringing me back to the present.
“I know,” I murmur. I wish I could forget how it felt when I went under the water.
"I can't believe Cyril actually did that," she continues

continued. "If I see him, I'll wring his neck."
She looks so stunned and disappointed that I ask myself again whether
Cyril is more to her than just a classmate. Whether there is a history between the two of
them and if so, what exactly happened. So far she has always shut down when
we have talked about her love life. Maybe now would be the right time to try
again carefully - after all, I have just opened up to her too.
But Ember interrupts my thoughts with her next words.

"Luckily James was there." Her eyes look like they're about to turn into little red
hearts. "I can't believe he actually carried you out of the party. In his arms!"
Me neither. Especially when I think about how cold and arrogant he was towards
me at first. I just can't reconcile this version of him with the James who wrapped me in
countless towels yesterday and stroked my back until I stopped shaking. The James
who caused chaos in my thoughts and haunted my dreams last night, in which
his warm hands were on my bare skin.
Not good. Not good. Not. Good.

"If I didn't have it as evidence, I wouldn't believe it," says Lin, staring at the picture
again. “How can a guy who constantly misbehaves like this suddenly act like a knight?”
"It seems he noticed that Cyril had crossed a line with Ruby and that's why he
intervened. That shows he has a good heart," Ember says. She looks at me and suddenly
something changes in her face. "Uh oh."
Lin raises her head. "What?" When her eyes fall on me, she groans.
“Ruby!”
Apparently my emotional chaos is clearly written on my face.
"I don't know, okay?" I say. "I actually can't stand him, but..." I stop and shrug helplessly.
For a moment, Ember looks like she wants to say something else, but then she suddenly
stands up. "Let's go check on the cookies." The three of us go into the kitchen, which now smells
delicious.
While Ember and I take the cookies out of the oven, Lin arranges them symmetrically on a large
plate. As we finally walk into the living room with them, she suddenly elbows me in the side.
"It's okay to be attracted to someone you actually think is stupid."
I would love to ask her if she speaks from experience. But when it comes to her love life,
Lin is so quiet that I don't dare and just ask: "Do you think so?" She nods.
My thoughts wander back to James as if by themselves. My hand starts to tingle where he

caressed me, and when I remember him undressing in front of me, a hot feeling rises in my stomach.
"Although I still can't quite believe it. Beaufort of all people. The damn king of the school,"
Lin mutters and falls onto the sofa.
“I don’t know how that happened,” I say, reaching for one of the cookies. It's actually way too
hot, but I take a huge bite anyway so I don't have to say anything else.
"If he really took such good care of you, he has my blessing," Ember admits, grabbing a
cookie of her own. Then she crosses her legs on the living room table. "What are you doing now?
Have you spoken since yesterday?"
I shake my head. »Actually, I just wanted to have a nice day today

spend with my sister.”
Ember stands up straight like a meerkat. "You have to contact him!" Shaking my
head, I
look back and forth between her and Lin. "Guys, there's nothing there. We're just...
friends." It seems strange to me to call James a "friend," but I just can't think of anything
better at this moment.
"Sure. Write to him now," Lin demands, and I take the cell phone out of my
pocket with a sigh.
I think briefly about what I can write to him, but decide on the obvious.
Thank you. – RJB
After I send the message, I stuff my phone into the crack in the sofa so I don't have to
see it.
“What did you write to him?” Ember asks.
“I just said thank you.” Lin wrinkles
his nose and finally reaches for a cookie. She breaks it into four pieces and takes
one of them. It's rare that Lin treats himself to something sweet. She pays strict attention
to her diet and forbids herself from almost anything that is tasty. I think that's a shame,
but so far I haven't managed to convince her that life is much more fun with chocolate.
My phone vibrates. It takes all my willpower not to

to grab it quickly. I would be embarrassed to appear so greedy in front of Lin and
Ember.
Luckily, they can't hear how hard my heart is beating when I finally unlock the
screen and read the message.
You never told me what the J stands for. – JMB
I will answer immediately.
Rate. – RJB
James. – JMB
That’s pretty self-centered, don’t you think? – RJB
Jenna. – JMB
Nope. – RJB
Jemima. – JMB
I'm kind of impressed that it only took you three tries. – RJB
He doesn't answer for a while. I stare at the dark display, aware of Ember and Lin's
expectant looks. I don't know what exactly I'm waiting for until my phone vibrates
again after a few more minutes.
Are you feeling better?
No initials. No more jokes. My throat suddenly feels dry. I don't want to remember
yesterday, I don't want to think about the water or the fact that I embarrassed myself in
front of most of my classmates because I was totally hysterical. Above all, I don't
want to think about Monday and what might be in store for me then.
I'm afraid of Monday. There are photos of us.
Lin and Ember start talking about something that has nothing to do with James or the
party yesterday, and Ember casually turns on the TV. She took a DVD out of the
cupboard and put it in.
I'm grateful to them for allowing me some privacy, especially as I read James' next
text.
Don't worry. All you can see in the picture is my wet back.
I hold my breath. Does the message mean what it says or is it an indirect flirt? I have no
idea. All I know is that I want to stay on equal terms with him.
At least in this respect I can be happy about the photo.
I have to wait a long time for his next answer. So long that I regret
even typing the words. We're halfway through the movie when my
phone vibrates next.
Ruby Bell, could you be trying to flirt with me?
A smile spreads across my lips. I hide it in the collar of my pajama top. Then I turn off
my phone and concentrate with all my might on the film.
OceanofPDF.com
19
Ruby
When I get off the school bus on Monday, James leans against the fence leading to
the sports field and greets me with a wry smile.
After what happened at his parents' company a week ago
I would never have believed that one day I would be happy to see him waiting for
me in the morning.
"Hi," I say, somewhat out of breath, as I stop in front of him.
His smile widens. Apparently he is happy to see me too. »Hey.« He lets his
gaze wander
over my face, and again there is that
unusual feeling in my stomach. I wonder if my skin would tingle if he touched me like
he did on Friday.
I quickly push the thought into a dark corner of my head.
»Are you my escort today?«
His smile doesn't waver. »I thought we could together
"Go to the assembly and thus protect yourself from the questions of others." The next
moment he nods towards the school and starts moving. I hook my fingers into
the straps of my backpack and follow him. “What was the rest of your weekend?” I ask
"How …
hesitantly.
"I had dinner with my family yesterday." He doesn't
say anything else. I give him a questioning sideways glance. He
notices him, and his smile slowly disappears.
»My Aunt Ophelia was visiting. She and my father don't get along very well." For
a moment I'm speechless that
he would say something like that to me
Private matters entrusted. I didn't expect that, especially after he told me how
badly he and his sister had been betrayed in the past by people they trusted.
On the other hand, I also told him something about myself on Friday. He must have
noticed how difficult it was for me. And maybe it works
him now as he does me. Maybe he also senses that something has changed and
doesn't want us to go back to the tense way we interacted with each other before.
Hope is growing in me. I have no idea what you would call what has developed
between James and me – friendship? More?
Fewer? – but I'd like to figure it out, little by little.
»Was there an
argument?« He buries his hands in his pockets. »Our family meetings
never go particularly peacefully. The Beaufort Companies actually belong to my
mother and her sister. But since my parents got married, my father has taken over
quite a lot and changed a lot of things in the company that have annoyed some people
- especially Ophelia," he explains.
“Does she work for the company too?” I ask curiously.

James grunts in agreement. »Yes, but she has no say in what
the main company concerns. She is five years younger than my mother and has
therefore always been left out a bit. She's more concerned with the subsidiaries or those
in which my parents have bought shares." I wonder how Ember would feel if our
parents left us a
company, but she - just because she's the younger of us – would have no say at all.
It's no wonder that the Beauforts' family gatherings are a thorny affair.
»Recently she has disagreed with a number of decisions, so the mood has
been pretty bad.
But … it was okay. I've had worse family evenings," he says with a shrug, and
together we turn left onto the path that leads to Boyd Hall.
A girl overtakes us who I have a history with.

When she sees James and I together, her eyes widen. I tighten my fingers around
the straps of my backpack and swallow hard. Still, I tilt my chin up and meet her gaze
challengingly until she turns away and quickly walks away.
"Hey, don't be so aggressive," James says, nudging me lightly with his shoulder.
"What am I supposed to do otherwise? When she stares, I stare back.”

He steps in front of me so that I can't go any further. "You're letting it get to you
too much. You have to be indifferent. Let them say what they want about you." "But I'm
not indifferent." "And? They
don't have to know that. You just have to
look like you don't care. Then they'll leave you alone."
Suddenly his expression changes - now his eyelids are slightly lowered, his brows
relaxed and the corners of his mouth slightly turned up. It's his I-don't-give-a-shit look
and it makes him look so arrogant that I just want to shake him. "You look like you could
use a beating." "I look like I'd really like a beating.
That's the difference," he says, nodding his chin at me.

"Now you."
I try to imitate his expression. Judging by the way James's mouth twitches,
I'm not doing very well.
"OK. Maybe it's enough to start with if you just don't have all of them
look at the people around you as if you were imagining them going up in flames." We
keep walking and I try to
take his advice to heart. Nevertheless, the closer we get to the school, the
more uneasy I feel. Just before the entrance to Boyd Hall, James puts his hand on the
back of my head and strokes it. Just for a second, that's all. It's probably meant to
encourage me, but suddenly I'm nervous for a completely different reason. I don't
know how James does it, but just one small touch from him is enough to turn my world
upside down. The feeling is completely new to me, different and strange. But somehow
also nice.
“Beaufort!” a voice calls out from behind us and I flinch.

Students on their way to Assembly stream past us, avoiding James and me as we
pause again.
James turns around and I reluctantly do the same.
Wren and Alistair come up the steps and stay in front of us
"Hey, Ruby." Wren rubs the back of her head, almost embarrassed.
“Sorry about Friday.”
I am not sure if he is really only interested in the matter of
Pool or for the way he treated me at the beginning of the party
has harassed. I can't ask him without James getting wind of the thing with Wren and
me. The fact that he's apologizing to me is definitely James' fault, but I'm still happy
about it.
So I just nod and say, "It's okay. You didn't throw me in the pool." Wren grins at me
in surprise, as if he
had expected a completely different reaction.
As if by themselves, my eyes wander to Alistair, who is quietly watching me.

One look at his face is enough to make it clear to me that he knows. He knows I was the
one who caught him and Kesh in the library.
I smile at him cautiously. He doesn't return it. His lips are thin, bloodless lines.
"Can we go in?" James asks, looking around. We hum in agreement and climb
the last few steps.
Assembly has just begun when we enter Boyd Hall, and we discreetly find seats in
the back row. Nevertheless, I can feel the eyes of my classmates on me as word slowly
spreads about who is sitting next to James Beaufort that morning. One head after
another turns towards us as Principal Lexington stands at the front and praises the
lacrosse team for their outstanding performance on Friday.
I dare to look at James, but his face shows no emotion, nothing that would
indicate that he is uncomfortable with the situation and the murmuring around us. So I
swallow, press my lips together and do the same.
After assembly, James and Wren have maths while Alistair and I have to go to art
in the east wing. Before we say goodbye, James murmurs to me, "Think about the
beating." Although his words are completely innocent, I feel
mine
Cheeks get hot. I ignore it and instead follow Alistair, who has already started moving.
Things are still tense between us and I feel like I need to say something.
But for the life of me I don't know what.

Alistair makes the decision for me and holds me back by the arm just before the
art room. He pulls me aside and looks at me seriously.
»What you saw on Friday night,« he begins quietly and holds
then pause. His eyes dart to a few students who are just around the corner
come. He nods at them with a fake smile and waits until they have passed us and
disappeared into the art room. Then he turns to me again. “You must not tell
anyone about this under any circumstances.” “Of course not,” I answer just as quietly.
»No, Ruby, you don't understand. You have to promise me. Swear
me that you don't tell anyone about this," Alistair whispers urgently.
“What makes you think I would do that?” I retort.
"I … It's just...” He has to pause again because people are watching him
greet as you pass. "Keshav doesn't want anyone to know about this." I can see
in his eyes how difficult it is for him to say these words. Suddenly, to me, he's no
longer the arrogant, rich slob who beats people up on the lacrosse field. He looks
incredibly young now. And vulnerable.
No wonder. It certainly doesn't feel good to be with someone who hides you
as if you were a dirty secret.
'I won't tell anyone about this, Alistair. “I promise.” He nods, and for a brief
moment the relief is clearly written on his face. Then his expression changes
and he looks at me thoughtfully. "If I find out that you've told anyone, I'll make your life hell."
With these words he goes into the classroom, without me

to be appreciated further.
I get through the rest of the school day better than expected. A few people give me
strange looks and whisper behind my back, but no one dares talk to me or tease me
about what happened on Friday. James's escort from the morning probably
actually made a difference.
During the lunch break I eat with Lin as usual. At least everything
seems the same to me until someone comes to our table.
“Is this still free?” asks Lydia Beaufort.
Lin and I turn our heads and stare at her. She points with
her tray on the chair next to Lin.
“Yes?” I answer, although it sounds more like a question.
Without hesitation, Lydia sits down across from me, spreads a napkin on
her lap and starts eating her penne. Lin gives me a questioning look, but I just shrug
helplessly.
I have no idea what Lydia is doing here. Perhaps James has given her the role of escort?
Or maybe she has decided to put her words from Friday into practice and keep an eye on
me herself from now on.
I look at James, who is sitting with his friends at the other end of the cafeteria.
I may be wrong, but the mood between them seems less cheerful today than usual. James
and Alistair seem to be arguing heatedly about something, while Keshav is staring
at his phone next to them and Wren is staring at a book. Cyril is nowhere to be seen.
"He doesn't know that I sat down with you," Lydia says suddenly. She dabs
her mouth and takes a sip from her water bottle. "I'm here because I wanted to
apologize for Friday." "But you didn't do anything," I reply, perplexed.
She shakes her head. "My friends and I have all misbehaved." "And that's
why you're having lunch
with us now?" Lin asks skeptically.
Lydia just shrugs her shoulders. “I saw them vultures over there. If I'm sitting
here, they definitely won't dare come here." She jerks her head towards a group of
students who are staring in our direction. When they notice that I have turned around,
they look away and put their heads together, whispering.
"And I also wanted to ask you how you are," says Lydia.
I can't hide my surprise. When I think back to our last conversation, all I see is
her suspicious look. She didn't give me the impression that she cared about my well-
being, and I can't help but wonder if my fall into the pool is really the only
reason she's sitting here at our table.
Nonetheless, I decide to answer your question honestly. »I wish that hadn't

happened on Friday. But I'm fine." "Cy sometimes really doesn't know when enough is
enough," she
says.
I shrug my shoulders.
»But I have known him since I was little,« she continues. »He thought
really, that's funny."
"What he did was pretty much the opposite of funny," Lin interjects, looking surprised
when Lydia nods.
»It was totally wrong. And that’s what I told him.” I look up from my
soup in surprise. “Really?” “Yes. Of course.” For a moment I don’t
know what to say.
Finally
I decide: "That was nice of you. Thank you."
Lydia smiles and turns back to her penne.
I look at Lin the moment she looks at me. I twitch
we shrug our shoulders inconspicuously once more, then we also turn our attention
to our food.
After a while, Lin begins to talk about her morning, which
started that her car wouldn't start. At first I feel strange making small talk with Lydia
sitting next to us, but she joins in on our conversation like it's the most natural thing in the
world, and eventually I stop wondering what her ulterior motives might be. Maybe she
really just wanted to be nice and apologize to me. She wouldn't be the first in this family to
surprise me.
When we're done eating, I pull my backpack onto my lap

and take out a small can, which I place in the middle of the table.
“The cookies are left over from the weekend,” I say, lifting the lid. “Would you like
one for dessert?”
Lydia's eyes light up. "Did you bake these yourself?" "Together with Lin
and my sister," I say. "On Saturday, in my pajamas." "That sounds wonderful," she
says and takes one
of the cookies.
“And so much better than my Saturday.” She bites off a piece and chews carefully.
"Oh, it's really delicious." "Thanks." I smile.
"James said you had family over." "Yeah, that's always... special. To be honest, I
would
have preferred to spend the day in my pajamas.”
I can't imagine someone like Lydia in her pajamas, and when I try, I grin.
After lunch, Lin and I go to the group room to

prepare for today's meeting. While I write the agenda on the whiteboard, Lin hands out
the handouts that we just printed out in the office. Then we wait for the others to
arrive one by one. James sits down in the window seat as usual. He places the black
notebook on the table in front of him and crosses both arms over his chest. The familiar
sight gives me a pang because it makes me realize that it doesn't matter whether James
and I get along or not: he's not here by choice. On the contrary, his presence
prevents him from practicing lacrosse and is therefore a punishment he hates.
»Ruby?« Kieran stepped next to me unnoticed.

»Hm?« I say and look at him. Kieran is only a little bit
taller than me. His black hair falls straight over his face and he shakes it to the side.
»I was wondering if you were free after the meeting today?

The selection of orchestras I have chosen is quite large and I thought I would discuss them
with you before choosing the final three.«
»Wait a minute,« I murmur and look at my calendar. It says

just plan a birthday with Mum & Dad, nothing else. "That's okay."
Kieran smiles with relief. “Great.” He goes
back to his seat, which is diagonally adjacent to James’s.
Our eyes meet and a mocking smile plays around the corners of his mouth as he
looks back and forth between Kieran and me.
“What?” I mouth.
James picks up his cell phone. A little later, mine shines on the table in front of me.
He's into you.
I roll my eyes and ignore him.

»Okay, guys. Bring us up to date,” Lin begins briefly
then the meeting and points to Jessalyn, who is sitting to her right.
»I got several offers for the decoration. One of

Contacts made a really good offer.« Jessa gives the
printed portfolio to the group. "Thanks again for the tip, Beaufort."
I look at James, surprised, who nods at Jessa. As often as his gaze wanders out
the window to the sports field, I wouldn't have thought that he got involved in something
without being asked. And even without me even knowing about it.
“I made a few drafts for the invitations,” Doug says next, handing Lin a USB stick.
She pockets it and opens the presentation. “The first suggestion is more classic and is
based on the invitation from last year,” explains Doug.
I look at the squiggly gold letters on black

Background, but before I can form an opinion, Camille says: "I thought we wanted to
deliberately differentiate ourselves from last year's party." The others hum in
agreement.
"Okay, let's move on to the second suggestion," Doug continues, nodding to Lin to
continue clicking.
The next invitation is designed in bright colors typical for Halloween.
“It doesn’t look as elegant as I imagined a Victorian celebration would be,” Kieran
interjects hesitantly.
I nod. "To be honest, I think so too." At Doug's
signal, Lin clicks on the next suggestion. A murmur
walks across the room and I sit bolt upright. The next moment I lean down close to the
screen and look at the invitation with narrowed eyes.
It is designed to look like old paper. The occasion on the

Paperhead is written in squiggly but still legible letters, and I can be seen directly
underneath. With James bowing and … holding my hand gently in his as if asking me
to dance.
It's one of the pictures taken that Saturday when we were in London. I can't believe
he sent it to Doug without my knowledge. I look up from the laptop screen and across the
room at James. He looks back at me with sparkling eyes.
“The invitation looks great,” Jessa says after a while. A

Murmurs of agreement go around the room.
"The dress is simply a dream. Do you happen to have a few more of them?" Jessa
asks James.
He shakes his head. "I'm lucky I got any stuff at all."
“The invitation is great, Doug.” Lin turns to the screen to see it

large format. Then she stands up and takes a few steps backwards. "I think the
key data could be designed a bit more modern. Maybe in a different font or something?"
»I think so too,« I agree, trying not to let it show.

let me know how unsettled I am about the picture. If we agree to this invitation, my
face will be all over the school - all over Pemwick! - hang. I don't know if I'm ready
for this kind of attention. Unfortunately, that's not up for debate - the team is thrilled and
is already discussing using the same printing company as last time.
My gaze falls on the picture again. Of James in his Victorian suit, my

hand in his. When I think about how it felt to be so close to him and how charged that
moment was between us, I feel warm. For the rest of the meeting I dare not even glance
in James' direction.
When we finish, Jessa, Camille and Doug say goodbye.

As Kieran comes over to me so we can watch the orchestras on Lin's laptop, I
see Lin walk over to James out of the corner of my eye. She sits down next to him
and starts talking to him.
Frowning, I watch as he nods and writes something in his notebook. It is too late before I
realize that Kieran is talking to me.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask.
"That I think the party will be the best we've ever had at Maxton Hall," he
repeats, smiling at me.
"That would be great. We've been planning it for so long. I can't wait for it to finally
happen." "Me neither. You have to reserve a dance
for me." Kieran is still smiling and looking at me through black eyelashes. I
swallow dryly.
He likes you.
Lin has been saying this to me for months. Could it be that she is right?
have? To me, Kieran has always been just the ambitious little vampire from the year
below us. I thought he was being nice to me because he hoped I would put him forward for
the team leadership next year. It never occurred to me that he could have a crush on
me.
Suddenly I notice how close Kieran is sitting next to me and that our knees are
almost touching under the table. I slide a little to the side, but am annoyed about it the next
moment. The situation is completely innocent. Why am I suddenly so thrown off by
James' words?
I glare at him right at the moment

he looks at me. In contrast to me, he doesn't do this covertly, but rather obviously. I
would like to stick my tongue out at him.
Since that wouldn't be a particularly mature choice, I instead look at Kieran with a bright
smile and nod. "Sure, of course. I just have to learn how to do it properly.”
"I'll show you at rehearsal," says Kieran, and I could swear

that I see a slight blush on his cheeks. Oh man.
"Good. Okay," I say, louder than I intended. I clear my throat.
»Shall we listen to the music now?« We get out our
headphones and listen to the samples of the orchestras that Kieran has
selected. Then we look at reviews on the internet and sort through them.
»I think I would suggest the three to the others. It would be best if you
"You get offers and then we'll just decide on Wednesday or Friday which one is
best," I finally say.
Kieran nods. “All right.” “Great,”
I say with a smile and take the headphones out of my ear.
I open my planner and grab my pink pen to write down the tasks discussed today.
“You’re turning eighteen on Saturday?” he asks, astonished.

Immediately I close my planner again. I try to
I don't want to let it show, but I'm uncomfortable with Kieran peeping into it. It's like my
diary and definitely not meant for strangers to see. "Yes," I say after a short pause.
"So, what are you planning

to do?" Lin chooses this moment to join in our conversation from her seat next to
James. "We're doing..." She trails off as I give her a warning look. At Maxton Hall, what I
do on my birthday is nobody's business. It's my private life, and I don't want anyone
else to know about it. "Nothing special," she finally finishes, pressing her lips tightly
together.
"You didn't say you were growing up soon," James says

and stands up. He raises both arms above his head and stretches.
»Why am I not invited?« »Because you
don’t know how to behave,« I reply.
"I'll show you how well I can behave," he says,
but it sounds like the exact opposite. Suddenly I have to think about the party again.
Not the pool and everything that came after. But the moment on the dance floor when I
stumbled against James and felt his upper body against mine. Then he looked at
me the same way, with that impudent glint in his eyes that made my stomach
tingle.
I have to compose myself and remember where we are before I reply, "You're
not invited, James." "Okay." Again, it sounds like
he's not saying "Okay," but
rather, “We’ll see.”
Kieran stands up and shoulders his bag. »We'll hear each other then
again later, right?" I nod, and he leaves the room with a hand gesture
that's half wave, half high five.
Then I put my planner in my backpack and shut down Lin's laptop. I put it in its
protective case and stand up. "Are you staying or should I lock up?"
James and Lin shake their heads. "We're finished too." While the
two of them pack up their things, I watch them suspiciously. I want to know what
they discussed.
Hopefully Lin hasn't told him about my birthday plans. Even though I shared an important
part of myself with James on Friday, there are things he doesn't need to know. And
the fact that I'm going to spend the evening of my eighteenth birthday playing games
with Lin and my family is undoubtedly one of them.
“Rutherford really likes you,” James says after we leave the library.
"That's such nonsense," I say, shaking my head.

"I think he already has a thing for you," Lin James agrees unnecessarily.
I give her a look.

»What? I've been telling you this for what feels like years. How he tells you every
He can read your wishes from your eyes and is always so incredibly nice. It's really,
really obvious."
»How is this obvious? Nothing is obvious there. He is nice to me because I am the
leader of the team. He must be nice to me.”
Lin smiles at me and pats my arm. "Okay, I correct you. It's obvious to everyone
except you."
James laughs quietly and I glare at him. I'd love to know what happened
that the two of them suddenly got along so well. I can't remember them ever
agreeing before, let alone exchanging amused glances over my head. I'm
not sure I can approve of this development.
I'm almost a little relieved when Lin soon says goodbye to me with a hug and turns
onto the path that leads to the parking lot.
James insists on taking me to the bus. »You are

“Hope for the poor boy,” he says suddenly.
»What's your problem, James? Are you jealous?” That’s the only counterattack
that comes to mind. But when he doesn't answer and I give him a sideways glance, I see
that he has his hands in his pockets and is frowning, looking straight ahead.
"If someone teaches you how to dance," he says after a moment

Pause, "then it's me." "You're
not serious," I say incredulously. "Are you
really jealous of Kieran?«
"No." He still doesn't look at me. "But I don't want the guy to get the wrong idea."
“What kind of thoughts?” I ask.

»That all you have to do is ingratiate yourself with you to make you smile
bring. That’s pathetic.”
I stop abruptly. »Excuse me? I smile without

people are trying to suck up to me!«
Finally he turns to me, but I can't see the look in his dark
Eyes not read. "Really? You've never smiled at me like that before."
"Because you haven't given me many reasons to smile so far." He just stares at me
for a moment. I
don't understand why he's like this all of a sudden. He seems annoyed and I can't
follow his argument. Before the mood between us can deteriorate further, I decide to
change the subject. "Thanks for looking after me today." He just nods.
"Really. Nobody made fun of me today. If you hadn't escorted me to school and to
Assembly, things would have been different," I continue.
When he remains silent, I continue. »Your sister has

sat down with us in the cafeteria and …«
Suddenly James touches my arm and steps in front of me. I hold my breath and
look up at him in surprise. His expression is surprisingly serious.
"I'm sorry," he says.
“What are you sorry about?” I ask quietly.
"That I haven't given you enough reasons to look at me the way you looked at
Kieran before." "James..." "I'm going to change that," he
continues,
looking deep into my eyes.
I swallow dryly. My stomach suddenly feels queasy, my knees weak. I am aware

of his touch on my arm, can clearly feel his light caresses through the fabric of my blazer.
Goosebumps spread across my arms. The need to touch him too suddenly
overcomes me, completely unprepared. I don't want to do much. Putting my hands on his
hips to hold on would be enough. But I can't.
That simply does not work. Just like that miserable breathlessness when he comes so
close to me, or the butterflies in my stomach when he looks at me like that.
“My bus is coming,” I say and pull away from him.

The intensity doesn't disappear from his gaze. I turn around

and sprint off so that you are no longer completely defenseless.
I have never been so happy to get on the school bus.
OceanofPDF.com
20
Ruby
On Saturday morning I wake up at six o'clock - and without an alarm clock. That's how
it always is when it's my birthday. I sleep restlessly because I'm so excited about what Mum
and Dad have planned for me. Mum works in a bakery and on these days she
always brings home the most delicious cakes in the world, while Dad cooks a feast for
us and decorates the entire downstairs with Ember's or my help. At seven I can
already hear them working downstairs and imagine what they're preparing. After all, you
only turn eighteen once.
I listen to myself to see if I feel different, but I don't. Lin felt the same way last
August. At least that's what she said as we lay next to each other on the grass looking
at stars after her cookout.
I turn on my side and reach for my phone. Jessa has already sent me a lovely text
message, and Lin left me a voice message just after half past one. She then sings softly
and then wishes me all the best. At the end she emphasizes how sure she is that we will
both be accepted into Oxford and that she can hardly wait.
Then I get dressed, sit down at my desk and look through my calendar to
distract myself. The Halloween party is one week away. It seems like I've been busy
preparing for this party for ages. The finished posters came from the printers on Friday
morning and we used the meeting to distribute them around the school. My worries
were unfounded. No one said anything to me about James' or my photo or teased me about
it. On the contrary, the reactions were entirely positive and Principal Lexington wrote me an
email saying that the invitation had also been highly praised for its design by the external
guests.
I'm still not used to the fact that everyone in Maxton Hall now knows my name. It's
strange to be greeted or offered a place to sit in the cafeteria. But I try not to let it show
that it unsettles me and instead act like I always do - like I don't care about all the
attention. After all, that’s what James does too. He acts like he doesn't care about
anything. I now know that that's not true.
My thoughts automatically wander to that moment last Monday. I'm going to

change that. How determined he sounded and how intensely he looked at me. As if there
was nothing more important in his life at that moment than convincing me that he
was serious.
I shake myself to clear thoughts of James from my head, but

when my vision clears, I flinch.
James
I wrote his name in my calendar. And I didn't even notice! My cheeks

heat up and I immediately reach for the eraser in my pencil case. I
start to write, but stop at the first letter. I slowly put the little tube
aside and gently run my fingers over his name instead.
My fingertips tingle. Not a good sign. I've been wondering what this
is all about for days. After all, he's still But I can't deny that … him.
something has changed. For a long time now, whenever I see him,
I'm no longer filled with anger and distrust, but rather with something
else. Something warm and exciting.
And I have to smile. Because I'm happy to see him. Because I enjoy his company.
Because he is quick-witted and intelligent and I find him interesting. Because he's like a
puzzle that I really want to solve.
I never thought this would be possible, but I no …I

longer loathe James Beaufort. Rather the opposite is the case.
Suddenly my bedroom door opens and Ember comes in. Caught
I slam my bullet journal shut.
Ember first looks at me skeptically, then her eyes shift to mine

Planner, as if she knew full well that there was something terribly embarrassing
written there. The next moment, however, she jumps towards me, grinning, and grabs my
hand to pull me up from my chair. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to get down yet,"
she says. She keeps tugging on my arm, even though there's really no
need. I come along very willingly.
We leave my room and I wrap my arm around her waist to hold her close to me.
»You have to fulfill all my wishes today.«
Although I'm happy, I realize that there's also a sad feeling in this moment. It's my
last birthday that I'll spend here, with my family and Ember. Who knows where I'll be
next year. Really in Oxford? With Lin by my side? Or all alone? And what if I don't
get accepted - where will I be then?
Ember prevents me from thinking any further because the moment we turn right into
the living room she says, "Here's the birthday girl!" I gasp loudly. “Surprise!” shouts my
family.
I put my hand over my mouth and feel my eyes starting to burn. I don't cry often, and if
I do, it's when I'm alone in my room and no one can see me. But when I see my
grandparents, my aunt and uncle, my cousin and my parents start singing Happy
Birthday, I find it impossible to keep my composure.
The room is beautifully decorated, Dad and Ember have outdone themselves this
year. White and mint green pom poms hang from the ceiling, a garland in the same colors
is strung across the dining table, and over by the living room table where my
presents are, two metallic mint green balloons float that add up to my age.
The next half hour passes in a blur. Everyone congratulates me, hugs me, asks how
I feel and finally gives me their gifts. From Uncle Tom, Aunt Trudy and Max I get the
collected volume of My Hero Academia, a manga series that I have been reading
for a long time
months, new pens and pretty stickers for my planner from Ember and two textbooks
from my grandparents that are on the Oxford reading list. My parents gave me an
external hard drive for my laptop, which I've been wanting since my laptop died for no
apparent reason at the beginning of the year and pretty much all of my files were lost.
“Who’s that from?” I ask, pointing to a large package that’s still on the table.
“From a secret admirer,” Mum replies, wiggling her eyebrows. I look back and forth
between her and Dad skeptically. He just shrugs his shoulders.
"It came in the mail," Ember explains.

“No return address?” I ask, eyeing the black box and the
blue ribbon therefore skeptical.
“I don't think that's necessary when we all know who
"It is," Ember interjects.
"Oh my God, don't tell me you have a boyfriend," shouts my cousin Max
and looks at me with big eyes.
Ember says “yes” at the same moment I shout “no”.
“Open it,” Trudy demands, peering over my shoulder. With a
She reaches forward with her hand and acts as if she wants to untie the bow. I just
manage to push the package out of her reach. I pick it up and sit down on the sofa with
it.
I slowly loosen the bow. I feel terribly being watched and I glance at my
family to get them to stop staring at me. Unfortunately it doesn't help. The room is as
quiet as a mouse. Sighing, I lift the lid.
There is a bag in the box. Holding my breath, I heave

I take it out and put it on my lap. It is made of dark brown waxed leather, has an
adjustable shoulder strap and two small front pockets under a flap with snap locks. I open
it carefully. The inner lining of the bag is made of blue and green checked fabric, and the
division of the compartments seems perfect to me at first glance. There is a separate
compartment for a laptop, several small ones on the side that can be closed with zippers,
and a main compartment with a narrower separated area in the middle.
With this bag I could take over the world, I'm sure of it. I close it carefully and stroke
the expensive leather. I notice something that I didn't notice at first glance. There are
three letters on the bottom right corner of the flap. RJB – my initials.
My breath catches in my throat. I feel like I'm in a dream, and the ohs
and Ahs from my family hardly get through to me. I look inside the box and see a
card on the bottom, which is lined with black tissue paper. It is creamy white and has a
narrow golden edge. It says in black letters:
Happy birthday, Ruby. – J.
Not more. Still, feelings explode in my stomach, sending tingles throughout my entire
body. I don't know how to react, I can only stare at the bag until suddenly numbers and
pound signs dance in front of my eyes. This is definitely the most expensive gift I've ever
received. But I actually don't want to worry about it.
And I don't want to think about what it means that James thought of me and
gave me such a gift. Did he see that my backpack was about to fall apart? Did he know
that I've been saving money for months to buy a new bag for next year? Did he feel sorry
for me?
I don't know, and thinking about it makes my head spin.
“The boy has style, that’s for sure,” sighs Trudy.

“And money,” Max adds helpfully.
"I don't think he paid any money for it if his parents own the company that made
the bag," Ember points out.
»Guys!« Mum interrupts them and points to the dining table where they
prepared a sumptuous breakfast. "Leave Ruby alone and sit down." She comes
over to me, takes the bag from my lap, carefully puts it back in the box and then
grabs my hand to pull me up. She wraps an arm around my shoulder and hugs me to
her. “It's not proper to talk about a gift like that. The
"Young man has thought about it, and it's a wonderful gesture that we should be
grateful for." She taps my nose with her finger. “Now go blow out your candles.” Together
we go to the table. For ten years there has only been
a single wish that I mention in my head as I blow out my birthday candles. Oxford.
But this year another word is surfacing and I have to stop and concentrate for a
moment.
"On your eighteenth birthday, you can make two wishes," Dad says gently. I didn't
notice that he had rolled up next to me, but now he strokes my back briefly. My inner
struggle was obviously playing out on my face.
“That’s right,” says Mum. "That's birthday law." My cheeks

warm and I look away from them.
I refuse to analyze why James' name was the first thing I thought of. Or why I take my
parents at their word when I close my eyes and blow hard.
It is one of the best birthdays we have ever celebrated. After our brunch we go for a
walk and take a new family photo in the park in Gormsey, which takes us almost ten
attempts because someone else is always having their eyes closed. In the afternoon Lin
comes and we play board games and pantomime with my family, where Lin and I
only just win against Max and Aunt Trudy. In the evening Dad serves up a three-course
meal with my and Ember's help, some of which he has prepared the day before. We sit
together at the dining table for a long time and I am surprised at how seamlessly Lin fits
into our group. She doesn't seem to mind that she doesn't understand some of the family
insiders. Instead she asks my mum countless questions about her work in the bakery and
has a long conversation with my dad about his paraplegia. As it turns out, Lin's uncle is
also in a wheelchair - information that is completely new to me. I admire how uninhibited
she approaches the topic and doesn't let Dad's disability unsettle her.
After everyone has left, I am full and so satisfied that I could actually sleep right
away. But as I put on my pajamas, my eyes fall on the black cardboard on my
Desk. I stand up and stand in front of it. I hesitantly lift the lid and take out the bag. I
open the two front fasteners with a quiet click. I carefully take the school
supplies I need for Monday out of my desk drawer and begin to stow them one by one
in the compartments of the leather bag. It takes me several attempts until I'm satisfied with
my order. Unlike my backpack, where I always had to fit everything in a single
compartment, this is heaven on earth. There are even little pen holders in the front
that I put the pens I use most often for my bullet journal.
I don't know if James knows what pleasure he gave me with this

gift. But now that I look at the bag I have put away, I realize that there is no way I
can return it.
I bend over and reach into my left front pocket to take out my cell phone, which I
put in there for testing. I hesitate for just a second, then I call up James' number and
dial it. I put the receiver to my ear and wait for the dial tone. It rings. And rings.
I'm about to hang up when he picks up.

"Ruby Bell." He almost sounds like he's been expecting my call.
"James Beaufort." If he says my whole name, I can
do that too. Unlike before, when I spat it out like a swear word, the letters now feel
completely different on my tongue. Better.
"Are you okay?" he asks, but I can barely understand him. I hear music in the
background, which gradually gets quieter. I wonder where he is and what he's doing.
"I'm fine. I just packed my new bag," I reply, running my finger along the edge of
the middle compartment.
The seam feels even.
»Do you like it?« he asks, and I wish I knew how he
looks like at this moment. What he's wearing. In my head he's wearing the school
uniform because I've rarely seen him in anything else, but I try hard to conjure up the
image of James in black jeans and a white shirt. On our doorstep that day he looked like
a normal boy. Not like the heir to a billion-dollar company. More human. Tangible.
"It's beautiful. You know that wasn't necessary, right?" I finally say. I close the bag
and then sit down on my desk chair, both feet crossed on the desk.
»I wanted to give you something. And for someone who loves order so much
like you, the James is a good choice, I thought."
"The James?"
"That's the name of the
model." "You're giving me a bag that you named after yourself?" "I didn't name it
that, it was my mother. There is also a Lydia. And some with names like my parents. But
the Lydia is too small for you and the Mortimer is too big. I also found it amusing to see you
running around school with James.” I grin. “Do you give Beaufort things to all your
friends ?” I ask.
He's quiet for a moment and I can only hear the music playing quietly in the
background. “No,” he finally answers.
He doesn't say anything more.
I don't know what that means. I just don't know what it is between us, let alone
what I would want. I just know that it makes me incredibly happy to hear his voice.
“If you own the company, you’ll have to name a bag after me at some point,” I say,
breaking the silence.
"Want me to tell you a secret, Ruby?" His voice is very hoarse and rough. I wonder
who he's with right now. And whether he left someone behind to talk to me on the phone.
“You can tell me anything you want,” I whisper.

There is a small pause in which I can only hear his footsteps. It
sounds like it's walking on gravel. Then the crunching noise disappears and the music
can no longer be heard at all. doesn’t want to take over the company at all.”
»If …
he were here, I would stare at him in disbelief. So I have nothing left
Other than pressing my phone tighter to my ear.
"If I'm honest, I don't want to go to Oxford either," he continues.
My heart is beating so hard that I can hear it pounding in my ears. "What is it you
want?"
He takes a breath and laughs. »It is the first time in a while that
someone asks me that.«
»But it is such an important question.« »And
I don't know how to answer it.« A moment
He is silent for a long time. "It was always meant to be, you know? No matter that
Lydia Beaufort would much rather take over and could do it much better. She lives for our
company, but even so, I will be the one my father brings into management next year. I
have known that all my life and I accept it. But it is not what I want." Another pause, then:
"Unfortunately, I will never get the chance to even find out what that is. I do not plan my
life myself, it has long been planned: Maxton Hall, Oxford and the company. That is all
there is for me." I grip my phone tighter, press it to my ear, hold James as close to me
as possible. What he has just said is probably the most honest thing I have ever heard
him say. I can't believe he confided that to me. That
he lets me keep this secret for him.
»My parents always told me that the world was my oyster.

That it doesn't matter where I come from or where I want to go. Mum and Dad
always said that I can do whatever I want and that there is no idea that is too big. I think
everyone deserves a world full of possibilities."
He makes a small, desperate noise. "Some days..." he begins, then pauses,

as if he doesn't know if he's already given too much away. But then he continues,
summoning the courage to be even more honest. "Some days I feel like I can't breathe
properly because everything is so overwhelming."
"Oh, James," I whisper. My heart aches for him. I never would have
I never thought that the pressure on him was so great, that his family obligations were
so heavy. It always seemed to me that he enjoyed the power that his surname gave him.
But now, little by little, the pieces of the puzzle are coming together in my head: his
tension every time Oxford was mentioned, his stoic expression when his parents turned
up in London, the way his eyes darkened every time the conversation turned to the company.
Suddenly I understand. I understand why he behaved like that at the

beginning of the school year. What's going on with his childish pranks and his I-
don't-care-attitude.
“This school year… is the last one where you don’t have to take on
any responsibility,” I murmur.
“It’s my last chance to be free,” he agrees quietly.
I would love to contradict him, but I can't. Likewise, I can't suggest a solution to his
problem - there simply isn't one. If you have to accept such an inheritance, it is not enough
to sit down at the table with your parents and discuss the whole thing again. Plus, I'm sure
he's already considered all possible options. And if I judge James correctly, he will do
what his parents ask of him anyway. He would never abandon his family.
»I wish I were with you now.« The words leave my

mouth before I can think about its meaning.
"What would you do if you were with me?" he replies. Suddenly his voice has
taken on a different tone. Now he no longer sounds desperate, but rather... teasing. As
if he was hoping for an indecent answer from me.
»I would hug you.« Not very indecent, but

at least from the heart.
"I think I'd like that." We've never hugged
properly before, and if he were standing in front of me, I wouldn't have dared to say
something like that to him. But now, with his dark voice in my ear and without having to
look into his eyes, suddenly nothing seems impossible. I feel brave and sad and nervous
and happy - all at once.
“Did you have a nice birthday?” James asks after a while.

“Yes,” I answer and start to tell him about my day, what presents I got and that I
won the pantomime with Lin that evening. James laughs in all the right places, obviously
relieved by the change of subject. Afterwards we talk about everything: his
weekend so far (lame), the upcoming work in English (challenging but doable), our
favorite singers and bands (mine: Iron & Wine, his: Death Cab for Cutie) and favorite
films (mine: The Guardians of the Light, his: The Amazing
Life of Walter Mitty). I learn so many new things about him. For example,
that he has a weakness for blogs, just like Ember. He tells me about a
travel blog he recently discovered, where he only wanted to read an article
- he ended up missing a meeting at his parents' office because he was lost
for several hours in the entries about the author's world trip and didn't
notice the passage of time. And that's exactly how I feel now. Before I
know it, it's three in the morning and I'm wide awake in my bed, James'
voice still in my ear. I stare at the folded lacrosse sweatshirt that's on my
nightstand.
And I just think about James.
OceanofPDF.com
21
Ruby
Principal Lexington's steely gaze bores directly into mine as I try to stay still and not shift
restlessly in my chair. It always seems strange to me to sit in his office. His posture is the
same as always: he has his hands folded calmly in front of him on the desk, but at the same
time he looks at me with a razor-sharp gaze, as if he has no problem walking over dead
bodies if it is for the good of his school. I wouldn't wish him as an enemy to anyone.
I doubt I'll ever get used to weekly meetings with him. Especially not when Lin lets me
down like she did today because she has to go back to London and support her mother at a
reception at the gallery.
However, there is something good about the fact that I am sitting alone in front of
Principal Lexington's desk at this moment, facing his eagle eyes. At least that way I could
express my suggestion without Lin staring at me in disbelief or kicking me under the table.
“Did I understand you correctly, Ms. Bell?” Lexington asks, leaning forward a little. He
frowns at me. “You want me to revoke Mr. Beaufort’s sentence?” I nod slowly. “Yes, sir.” He
narrows his eyes even further. “Why do
you think I should do that? The
term isn't over yet." "He's really shown a lot of commitment, sir," I say. »I never expected
that. He had great ideas and it is thanks to him that we are able
to take the Maxton Hall events to a new level with the Halloween party.«
Lexington leans back and lets out an audible breath.

He seems to like the idea. Whenever the image of the
School goes, Lexington reacts like a magpie having a glittering
discovered the find. I decide to go one better: “I think James can now be of more
use to the school on the lacrosse team.
The team needs him. Roger Cree is good, but he lacks playing experience.
Coach Freeman said the same thing when we interviewed him for the Maxton Blog on
Friday.« The wrinkles on Lexington's forehead
deepen. I can see that he
started weighing up the pros and cons in his head.
"And you're not just saying that because the boy is messing up and
you want to get rid of him?" he asks skeptically.
I wonder what Lexington would say if he knew the exact opposite was true. I
don't want to get rid of James. If it were up to me, I would spend every minute of my time
with him.
But after James confided in me and I realized
I couldn't help but know how important this last year of school is for him. I just had
to talk to Principal Lexington. It's the only way I can think of to help James and
take some of the burden off his shoulders - even if only for a little while. And I'm
not just doing it because I want to do him a favor, but because it's the truth.
James has really put in the effort and he deserves recognition so that he can at least play
lacrosse with his friends for the rest of the season and enjoy the year.
The question involuntarily arises in me: what does this mean for us?
After all, we're friends now. Or something like that.
Will he spend time with me after that? Probably not. Something in my chest
tightens painfully at the thought, but I try with all my might to ignore it. I'm doing this for
James, not for myself.
"Ms. Bell?" Principal Lexington brings me out of my thoughts, and it

It takes a moment until I remember his question again.
I shake my head. "Absolutely not, sir. I'm really only thinking about the good of the
school. He supported us, and now he should support his team again. We can't afford
another crushing defeat like last Friday if we don't want to lose our reputation." I hit the
nail on the head with that. Lexington's gray eyes flash,
his shoulders suddenly tense.

"I understand." He nods and I involuntarily hold my breath. "Good.

Mr. Beaufort can finish his work on the event committee early and play lacrosse again." I
feel relief and anticipation of James' reaction when I tell him the news. I smile gratefully,
but Lexington raises a warning finger. "But not until next week, when the
celebration has taken place. I will not risk him coming up with something else to embarrass
our school."
My smile slips only slightly. "Of course, sir." "And keep all this to
yourself for now." He picks up the receiver
his phone, presses a button, and then grumbles, "Please bring Coach Freeman into my
office." I remain in my chair, uncertain. I
don't know if I'm dismissed or if Principal Lexington wants to discuss something
with me, but when he looks up, frowns, and then makes a waving hand gesture, I
assume that's my signal to leave the room.
I wasn't exaggerating when I told Lexington that the Halloween party would take Maxton
Hall events to a new level. When the day finally arrives, we complete the final
preparations, and the guests start arriving, it's like a huge weight has been
lifted from my heart. The party is a success. More than that: it's even better than I could
have hoped.
The decor that Jessalyn and Camille organized looks beautiful. In the
entryway of Weston Hall, they hung ornate vintage picture frames with old
family portraits and several huge mirrors that are lit from different angles. Sheer black
tablecloths and lace tablecloths adorn the buffet and the tables we set up for
guests around the dance floor. There is a thin layer of cobwebs strung throughout the
room and more than fifty strings of lights that provide a flickering glow with their
candle-like bulbs. We decided not to turn on the chandeliers and instead placed large silver
candelabras on the tables and on the windowsills, which don't provide much light but
make the atmosphere all the more spooky and mysterious.
The hall is now well filled and almost all the tables are occupied.
Principal Lexington is currently giving the official welcome speech, which Lin, I and the
rest of the team are watching from the edge of the buffet. As he praises us for the good
organization, Camille takes a step forward and waves to the audience as if she were
a queen. Lin and I look at each other, trying unsuccessfully to suppress our grins.
However, I have to admit that we all look like queens today

look like royalty. While I'm wearing the dress from the Beaufort archives , Camille is
dressed in an apricot robe that perfectly matches her pale complexion. Jessalyn is
wearing a flowing pink dress and Lin is wearing one in exactly the royal blue that is
the school's official color and which I can't help but wonder if she intended it to be that
way. The boys look fabulous too. Doug is wearing a simple sand-colored suit that is the
same cut as the one James is wearing on the poster. And Kieran Kieran looks like he
really is from another era with his top hat, black suit, jacquard waistcoat underneath and
beige scarf. …
When Principal Lexington finally thanks us, he raises his top hat and bows slightly.
This time I avoid looking at Lin - I wouldn't be able to hold back my laughter any longer.
I'm totally excited. I don't know whether it's because everything has gone
well so far and the party is already shaping up to be a success, or because I'm afraid
that something unforeseen will happen. I nervously look around the room.
“He’ll be here soon,” Lin whispers in my ear.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I reply just as quietly.
That's a lie. I know exactly what she's talking about.

James hasn't shown up yet. Also his friends
and Lydia haven't shown up yet, but his parents, who are part of the parent board,
have. I am painfully aware of his absence, and although I don't want to let it distract me,
it feels like an important part of the party is missing - after all, he worked just as hard as
we did to make it a success.
After Lexington's speech, the room erupts in applause and we separate to take our
respective positions. While I'm with
As I stand with the caterers, keeping an eye on the buffet, I watch Jessalyn, Camille,
Doug and Kieran, along with a few members of the theater group, get into position
on the dance floor. The music starts and the five couples perform a series of steps in
formation that look incredibly complicated to me. I am suddenly glad that my argument
that someone needs to keep an eye on the guests has convinced me and that I don't have
to take part in this dance.
The front couple is Kieran and a girl from the drama group who I don't know.
They lead the others, striding across the dance floor and splitting at the end so that
the boys and girls split into two lines. They walk diagonally past each other and do a circle
before meeting in the middle and facing each other again. All the attention in the room
is on them, the guests watching their dance as if spellbound.
At that very moment, the huge double doors of Weston Hall open. A few people turn
towards the entrance, which causes Kieran and his partner to pause briefly in their
dancing.
Frowning, I look at the door. My heart skips a beat.
James and his gang enter the hall, each prettier than the other. James is
wearing the Beaufort suit, but the others have also dressed up - not a silk scarf or button
is in the wrong place. Lydia is wearing a beautiful silver dress and an elaborate
hairstyle that must have required her to sit still for hours.
They all look perfect - as if they had stepped out of a Victorian film. As they walk
past the dance floor towards the buffet, you can clearly see from their faces what
they think of this party.
Cyril wrinkles his nose, while Wren's cheeks are flushed, suggesting he had already had
something to drink before coming here. Kesh's black eyes roam around the room and the
guests, unimpressed. When he sees me, his expression darkens, and he immediately
puts a little more distance between himself and Alistair. It looks like a reflex,
and next to him, Alistair frowns in annoyance.
James comes towards me and I drink in the sight of him

I'm excited. Although I've seen him in this suit on countless posters over the last
few weeks, the reality - like the first time I saw him in London - takes my breath away.
When he finally stops in front of me, my heart starts beating fast and irregularly.
"And? “How’s it going?” he asks, a slightly mocking smile at the corners of his
mouth. He just acts like he wasn't just over an hour late to our party.
"It's going great," Lin answers for me. Apparently I stared at James a little too
long.
James nods. "That's good." "I
hope it's better than the last celebration. Otherwise we'll move straight away
off again,” grumbles Cyril.
“Don’t act like you’re too good for our parties,” Lin says through gritted teeth. I look
at her in surprise.
"I'm not just pretending." At
his words, an angry blush shoots across Lin's cheeks. "You really are..."
»Hey. Peace, people.” James's voice is quiet but assertive. He gives Cyril a look,
whereupon he turns away from Lin and instead goes to Wren, who has come to a
stop a short distance away from us and is having punch poured into a glass.
One word from James is enough to silence someone like Cyril Vega.
Sometimes it still seems scary to me how much power James has at this school.
As if nothing had happened, he turns to the buffet and takes one

of the morsels. He holds it up to his nose and examines it carefully before putting it in
his mouth. After swallowing it, he says to me, "Much better than last time." I roll my
eyes. "You suggested the caterer yourself." He grins at me and
then lets his gaze wander over me. I feel warm as I see his expression change
and the mocking smile turns into something more tender, more honest - a smile that
seems to be intended just for me. "You look very beautiful
out of."
Something flutters in my stomach and I swallow hard. "You've already seen me in that
dress." "That doesn't change the fact that you
look beautiful in it." "Thank you very much. You look very beautiful too." I'm
smoothing down the dress, even though there's nothing to smooth there at all,
when James suddenly stands in front of me and bows slightly, his hand held out palm
upwards. I turn to his friends,
but they seem to be busy pouring alcohol from a hip flask into their glasses without
anyone noticing. Only Lydia looks at her brother with a strange expression in her eyes. I
turn back to James.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my cheeks hot.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” I suppress a laugh.
“There's a reason I don't
attended the opening dance or rehearsals for it, James. I can’t dance – at least not like
that.”
»It was considered very impolite at the time to refuse the offer to dance
to turn it down, Ruby Bell.«
»Then please forgive my rudeness. Unfortunately, I have to look after the buffet.«
James stands up and
takes two steps towards Lin. He whispers something in her ear that makes her
laugh. Then she nods and makes a shooing motion with her hand. James comes back to
me and offers me his arm. »Lin says she can take over for a moment.«
I hesitate for a moment, but then I put my arm through his.

While I give Lin a dirty look over my shoulder, which she comments on with an apologetic
shrug, James leads me towards the dance floor. I didn't realize that the opening dance
had come to an end and more and more couples in Victorian gowns were entering the
dance floor. When I look around now, it really looks like we've traveled back in time.
The orchestra quietly begins a new song, a gentle but rhythmic melody that
slowly fills the entire hall. James takes my hand in his and places his other hand on my
back. He leads me a few steps to the side, rocking us back and forth, taking two steps
back and one to the left as I follow him, just staring at our feet - or rather, the full skirt of the
dress.
"Don't look down," he says quietly.

With a heavy heart I look up. James looks as if he has not been
After birth, I did nothing other than dance at balls. Which is probably true.
I wish I had attended the rehearsals or at least watched a few tutorials online and practiced
with Ember.
Suddenly James lowers his head until his mouth is close to my ear
persists. “Relax,” he whispers.
Easier said than done. But I still try. I try to relax the tension in my arms and stop
worrying so much about doing all the steps correctly. I let myself fall - just like I imagined
when we tried on these costumes for the first time.
James catches me. He gently guides me across the floor and I feel like I'm
floating. I wonder if we'll ever have the opportunity to dance like this again. What will
happen if I tell him that from now on he will no longer be forced to attend our meetings.
Although I don’t want it at all, I suddenly feel a weight

on my chest. I try to ignore it, but it becomes more and more oppressive the more
I think about what will happen between James and me after this evening.
»What's wrong?« he asks suddenly and inspects my face with

narrowed eyes.
"I have to tell you something."
James' turquoise blue gaze is on me, waiting and patient, too
if I can detect a spark of suspicion in it.
»I was thinking about what you said to me on my birthday. That you only have
your last year of school left, and then…” I clear my throat and feel James suddenly
tense. “Well, anyway, I talked to Principal Lexington. We think it’s about time you got
back into training.”
His movements pause for a moment, then he continues dancing as if he had

rehearsed a choreography.
"What?" he croaks. His voice has become quite hoarse. It is always
what gives him away. His gaze remains hard, his posture straight and his
movements confident - but his voice never changes. When something is
bothering James, you can tell immediately. And that's how it is now.
»I think you have really contributed to the team. That can
Lexington will be rewarded.« With my relaxed tone, I actually wanted to make
the atmosphere between us less tense, but the opposite happens. James' eyes
darken, and the next moment he pulls me close to him - closer than I could have
imagined in
Victorian era. But the dance floor is full and everyone seems to be busy with themselves,
so no one notices us. Us and the fact that James is taking my breath away with his
intense gaze.
He clarifies his voice again. “You…” Suddenly

the fairy lights go out. All at once. A few people in the orchestra are acting out, and
off-key notes echo throughout the hall.
The glow of the candlesticks is the only source of light in the entire hall.
"James, I swear to you, if this is one of your pranks, I will..."
I hiss.
"It isn't," he interrupts me. I can barely see his face, but he seems just as
surprised as I am. Finally, he curses quietly. "We have to go to the power distribution
immediately. The orchestra can't carry on playing like this. The mood will be rock bottom."
I nod, and James grips my hand tighter. Together we make
way
we make our way through the confused people on the dance floor, almost stepping
on the hem of my dress. When we reach the hallway outside, I breathe a sigh of relief.
James lets go of my hand as we go down the stairs into the basement and I hold on to the
banister. I try not to think about what it means that I desperately miss the feel of his warm
skin right now. It's pitch black in the basement. James digs out his phone and turns on
the flashlight to illuminate the hallway.
"So cold," I murmur, rubbing my upper arms. "And creepy." I

I feel like at any second a clown or monster or a cross between the two could jump out
from behind the corner.
James does not answer, but goes straight to a large
Box on the left side of the hallway.
»I should be concerned that you know so much about the location of the
power distribution box.« James smiles wickedly. He opens the
box with the master key
on his key chain, then he steps to the side so we can both look inside. Two fuses have
blown, and as James pushes the switches up, we hear the guests' cries of relief from
afar. In the next second, the lights down here come back on with a quiet click
from the neon tubes.
I breathe a sigh of relief. James closes the electrical box again, immediately
I turn on my heel. I can't get out of this basement fast enough.
I gather the skirt of my dress and climb the stairs. I'm almost there when James
suddenly stops behind me and says: "Wait." I turn to him and look at him questioningly.
»Did you really think I would do something like that again?« He

sounds genuinely surprised, as if he can't believe that I expected this of him.
But if I'm honest, I do. …

I don't know what this is between James and me. And even though we've grown
closer in the last few weeks, that doesn't mean I trust him. Too much has happened in
the past for that, and his and Lydia's warning words are still too clear in my ears.
I promised Lin I would be careful, and I'm sticking to that.

“For a millisecond, maybe,” I reply sheepishly.
He looks at me urgently. “I would never do something like that again, Ruby.
Not after I know how much work you put into these events and how much they
mean to you.«
It feels like someone is pressing on my chest with two hands to make it
difficult for me to breathe. "I'm sorry," I say quietly. “I guess I was just scared. That it
would be like it was at the beginning of the school year again.
James immediately shakes his head. "No." He

goes up a step and now we are exactly eye level. His face is so close to mine
that I can see little blue crystals in his eyes and the dark rim around his iris.
I can't imagine what it will be like when I no longer see James at our meetings
every other day. Just the thought of it makes my throat tighten. Is there even a reason
for him to spend time with me? He'll be training and being with his friends a lot more
than he's had the opportunity to do recently.
Will he realize how much he missed it? How much more fun he has when he can spend
his Saturday night drinking and partying instead of writing news with me about the political
situation in Britain or my new favorite manga?
Will he realize how little our worlds actually fit together?

I've enjoyed the last few weeks so much and I definitely don't want to lose him.
However, I'm afraid I have no say in the matter. It is clear to both of us which world he
will ultimately choose.
The pressure on my chest is increasing. Maybe it will be easier for me if I make the
decision for him before he is the one who hurts me.
»That was probably our last task as teammates,« I say

and look him straight in the eyes. My heart is beating like crazy.
If he comes any closer, he can definitely hear it.
“That’s right,” James says quietly.
We just look at each other for a while. Then we breathe at the same time
as if we were about to say something, but we both stop. The atmosphere
between us is so charged and my pulse is racing so fast that I can't stand it for another
second. I do the first thing that comes to mind: I hold out my hand to James.
“It was very nice working with you,” I say as formally as possible.
At first James seems surprised. Then an emotion appears in his turquoise

eyes that I had seen before but could never place. Now I know what it is: longing.
He takes my hand and holds it gently. “It sounds like it would

you say goodbye to me."
The moment his words reach me, I understand that he is right. And at the same
time I realize that I don't want that at all. I don't want to say goodbye to him. Instead, I
would still like to have the opportunity to talk to James. To tell him more about myself
and to listen when he confides things in me.
I want to know everything about you.

The thought comes over me suddenly and violently, and the same longing I see
in his eyes rises in my stomach. It's burning hot, almost desperate, coursing through
my veins and making me tighten my fingers around his. I don't know what's happening to
me, but my knees feel weak and his hand is so warm in mine. I wonder what it would
…than this mere touch. More of him.
feel like on other places on my body. I want more
“James…”
“Yes,” he murmurs again. He sounds just as confused, just as breathless as I do.
The next second he pulls me forward until I fall against him.
He looks into my eyes for a split second. Then he slides his hand to the back of my
neck and grips it tightly.
The next moment he presses his lips to mine.
I can not think any more. My head switches off, there are no more rational thoughts,
only the burning heat that rushes through my entire body. I wrap both arms around his
neck and bury my hands in his hair. He starts moving his mouth on mine.
James kisses exactly the way he moves and behaves: confident and proud. He
knows exactly what to do, knows exactly how to touch me to fan the heat into a fire.
He pushes his tongue into my mouth, without hesitation and not the least bit shy, and
swirls around mine until I feel like my knees could give out at any moment. But even if that
were to happen, he would be there to catch me. His arm is wrapped tightly
around me and he is holding me close to him. I can feel his body through the material of
my bulky dress, but it's not enough. I need more.
I moan softly and slide my hands to his shoulders, then back to his neck and into
the neckline of his shirt. His skin is warm and velvety, and everything inside me calls
for more, more, more.
I want more of him. To undress him, here, on these stairs in the middle of the
school. I wouldn't care if someone came and caught us now. All that matters to me is
James, his mouth on my lips, my jaw, my neck. He pulls my skin between his teeth
until it pinches slightly, but I wish he would apply more pressure. I want him to leave
marks on my body so that in a few hours I can see that this really happened and
wasn't my imagination.
“Ruby…” I thought I knew all the timbres of his voice. But

this one is new. This is what he sounds like after he kissed me senseless.
He cups my face and looks at me. His thumbs run over
my cheeks. My jaw. My lips. Cheeks again.

"Ruby." I
lean forward and put my mouth on his. A painful ache spreads through
my abdomen and works its way up until I find it difficult to breathe. Now I understand
why he keeps whispering my name. I want to do exactly the same thing.
James, James. Always James.

“James,” a commanding voice sounds above us.
We jump apart. I step on the hem of my skirt and lose my balance, but James
reaches forward and grabs my waist. He waits until I hold on to the banister. Then he
immediately lets go of me and looks past me and up. I follow his gaze.
Mortimer Beaufort stands at the top of the stairs, both hands behind his
Back crossed and watching us with dark eyes. My heart skips a beat.
“Your mother is looking for you.”

James arches his back and nods curtly. "I'll be right there." Mr. Beaufort's eyebrows
rise slightly. "She's not looking for you now, she's looking for you now." James
stiffens. I reach
out and touch him gently
Poor, hoping his father can't see this. James takes my hand in his and looks at our
entwined fingers. I hear him sigh softly. Then he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a
light kiss to it.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and I can feel the words on the back of my hand.
The next moment, he carefully pushes past me and walks up the stairs to his father, who
is waiting for him with stiff shoulders and an icy gaze. When James reaches him, he grabs
him by the shoulder and steers him back into the hall, while I stand on the stairs, feeling
my hot cheeks and wondering what he apologized for.
OceanofPDF.com
22
James
"I told you to stay away from that girl." I stare out the window. The dark fields, together with
the now almost completely bare trees, blur into a single dark mass. This is
how my insides feel at this moment. I feel cold and hot at the same time, my palms are
sticky and my throat is dry. I feel sick, but the opposite should be the case.
I wish I could go back to Ruby, to her beautiful mouth and the feeling she gave me.
In my mind I'm still holding her in my arms, enjoying the way she buries her hands in my
hair and gently bites my lip.
If we hadn't been interrupted, I would have done a lot more than just kiss her.
“I’m talking to you,” my father repeats. He will definitely be right away

throw his glass through the car. Telling Percy I was going home with my parents was
the stupidest idea I've had in a long time.
“James, darling, we only want the best for you,” my mother adds more
diplomatically. I can't look at any of them. When I do it, the anger boils up inside me and I
don't know if I can still push through.
Why did this have to happen today? Why did my

Father catch me with Ruby at this very second?
“We definitely didn’t imagine you to be a scholarship holder from a middle-
class background with a tragic family history,” Mum continues. I snap my head around
and stare at her. I want to ask how the hell she knows this about Ruby, but it doesn't
actually surprise me. Actually, nothing surprises me at all in this family anymore.
"You deserve better, darling. Someone like Elaine Ellington. I hear you two are
getting along well - why don't you invite her over to our house sometime?" My mother's
voice is calm and soothing. She desperately wants to mend things between me and
Dad, but it's already too late for that.
"Elaine and I - it's never going to happen, mother." Besides, I'm pretty sure she dropped
out of college and is trying to hide it from everyone. She's not better than Ruby just because
she comes from a blue blood family. Ruby works harder than anyone else for what she
wants. She's intelligent, a good person and... beautiful.
A great kisser. An even better listener.

As if by itself, it appears in my mind again. The memory
to her mouth is the only thing that helps me get through this car ride. I wish we had
more time. The few minutes with her were definitely not enough for me.
»You are embarrassing our family if you rely on a gold digger like
"I can't believe you're acting like this. We raised you better than that." Try as I might,
I can't ignore him any longer.
Not when he talks about Ruby like that. Boiling anger rises inside me and I look at my
father angrily. "Shut up."
My mother gasps in outrage, Lydia next to me stiffens. She reaches for my hand,
but I snatch it away. She can sleep with her teacher, but I can't even spend time with the
person I like without being immediately called out for it?
The car stops and we unbuckle ourselves. I wait until Lydia and Mum get out and
then follow them. My father is close behind me, and before I can take two steps, he
stops me by the shoulder and turns me to face him. He grabs me tightly by the collar
and shakes me.
"How dare you tell me to shut up," he growls, pushing me away so violently that
I stagger back. The next moment he swings his hand and hits me in the face. Pain
shoots through my cheek, and for a few seconds I can't see anything except the
colorful dots that have formed in front of my eyes.
A metallic taste spreads in my mouth.

"God, Dad!" Lydia calls, running to me. She puts an arm around my back and
holds me tight before I do something stupid and hit back. How I would love to do that:
just hit back. To give him the same pain he's been causing me since I was a child.
My mom takes Dad by the arm. He tears himself away from her grasp and
turns to stomp into the house. After he has disappeared, she looks at me regretfully.
"That's what happens when you hang out with riffraff, James." Then she lifts up her
flowing skirt to rush after Father. I watch the two of them go and try to suppress the
anger that is slowly but surely growing into a hatred that I don't want to feel. I wipe my
mouth with the back of my hand and then look at the blood on my skin as if it came
from someone else.
Lydia stands in front of me and takes my shoulders. "James. Is she really worth the
stress?" she asks urgently.
I look at her, far too upset to really think about her question. "Mind your own
shit," I growl, pulling away from her touch. I turn and walk across the courtyard back to the
front gate of our property. As I walk, I dig my phone out of my pocket and dial Wren's
number.
I desperately need a distraction.
It's only after my third drink that the anger begins to subside. I lean against a wall in Wren's
parents' living room, drink scotch from a crystal glass and allow the thumping music to
gradually silence my thoughts.
»Look here. “The prodigal son has returned,” sounds Cyrils

voice behind me. I turn around and see him coming towards me with his arms
outstretched and a mocking grin. Just like the rest of us, he has removed half of his
costume, leaving him in just the high-waisted pants and white shirt.
“What gives us the honor?” he continues to ask. He wants something more

say, but then he sees my mouth and lets out a whistle. "That looks bad, man."
I don't answer, but down the rest of my drink.
Even though I'm used to alcohol, my cheeks already feel numb

at.
»Leave him alone, Cy,« calls Wren from the sofa. Sitting right next to him is
a blonde girl running her hand up and down his thigh. She looks familiar, and when
she lifts her head from his shoulder, I know why. Camille. Last I heard, she was with
Kesh, not Wren, but it's not unusual for this to happen around us.
"What's wrong with you, Beaufort?" Cyril asks, throwing an arm around my shoulder
and maneuvering me to one of the couches. I flop down on it and rub my sore face while
Cyril pours me another glass and then holds it out. "The James I grew up with doesn't
take any nonsense from anyone. He won't be kicked out of the team, and he refuses
to do anyone else's dirty work." The fact that he calls what I've done with the team over
the last few weeks dirty work makes me boil up with new anger, but I hold back. Cyril
is who he is, and I've gotten myself worked
up enough tonight. All I want is to get drunk - until I can't feel anything anymore.
Not my father's hand, not Ruby's lips. "I had no choice. You know that." "Bullshit," Wren
interjects. Amusement flashes in his eyes.
"You just want Ruby." Instead of answering, I

take a sip and close my eyes.
The stuff Cyril poured me is so strong that it leaves a burning trail from my throat
to my stomach.
"Are you serious? “You only went along with all this shit because you like Ruby Bell?”
asks Cyril, amazed.
"That's why he's changed so much." Wren doesn't look at me when he says this
says, but Camille, whose hair he carefully strokes.
»He was so ingratiating with her. You had him at the last one
meetings," Camille interjects. She gives me a pitying look. "Or did you just do
that so you could play lacrosse again?" I pause with the glass to my lips. "How
did you know about that?"
"Ruby told us before the party." I frown at Wren, who continues to pet Camille.
Did he
So why did you start something with her tonight? To tell her about me
to question?
»I haven’t changed at all.« My tongue feels
heavy as I say this, and the words are quiet and slurred.
“Of course you do.” Alistair collapses onto the sofa to my left. His golden blonde
hair is completely disheveled and his cheeks are flushed. Either he's already had a lot,
or he's picked up some guy and is coming straight out of Wren's guest room.
"How have I changed?" I reply, trying to sound calm, while trying to convince
myself that I don't care what they think of me.
Alistair raises a hand and starts to list. "First, you no longer come to our parties or
leave before sunrise, which old James Beaufort would never have done. Second, you
voluntarily spend your free time with the nerds on the events team - no offense, Camille."
She sticks up her middle finger. "Third, you suddenly don't give a damn about our
agreement." "I didn't come here to listen to this bullshit." Alistair raises an
eyebrow. "It's not bullshit and you know it."
"Alistair is right. We wanted to enjoy the last year of school and
“Let’s really hit the shit,” says Wren. »That was the deal.
Carpe diem, man. Every day, as long as we're still together. Unfortunately, somewhere
along the way, it seems, you lost the James who inspired us to go all out.”
I lean back and take another sip, it burns

now almost unbearable. The truth of her words sinks in and my stomach tightens.
You're right.
The plan was to make my senior year the best of my life and enjoy the time with
my friends. With the boys who are like a second family to me. The plan wasn't to develop
feelings for someone I can't have a future with anyway.
I can still taste Ruby on my lips and feel her hands on my body. Unfortunately,
that just means I'm still far too sober.
Ruby made me feel something I had never felt before. Namely, that with her by my
side anything is possible. A beautiful, terrible lie. Because in truth nothing is possible for
me. In the
Unlike her, the world is not open to me. It is predetermined how my life will turn out.
Maybe that's exactly what drew me to Ruby from the very beginning. While she
takes control of her life, I'm moved around like a pawn. While she lives, I just exist.
We don't fit together.

I just wish I had realized that before I kissed her.
OceanofPDF.com
23
Ruby
How do you talk to someone you've been making out with?

The only other boy I kissed before James was Wren,
and I just ignored him at the time and pretended it never happened. That's out of the
question with James. I spend much of Sunday lying on my bed and staring at his sweater,
which is still on my desk. I'd like to text him or call him, but other than Can we
please do this again? and What does this mean for us now? I can't think of anything to
say and I don't dare. Especially since he and his parents disappeared so abruptly
yesterday that I couldn't even say goodbye to him.
Eventually I get so fed up with all this ruminating that I decide to distract myself and
start debriefing the event. Aside from the brief power outage at the very beginning,
everything went according to plan, and I had an email in my inbox this morning from
Principal Lexington praising our team for a job well done.
I forward the email to the team distribution list with a few warm words.
Then I grab one of the books my grandparents gave me for my birthday and read the first
few chapters. Highlighting important passages and putting colorful post-its on them
has always helped me to bring order to my jumbled thoughts.
As I take notes, I fill my head with information and facts, trying to banish the memory of
James' tight grip on my neck and his mouth on mine.
I wonder how many girls he must have kissed to be that good at it.
I wonder how far we would have gone if his father hadn't interrupted us.
I wonder if I'll get the chance to kiss him like that again.
Okay, maybe the book doesn't dispel the memory the way I imagined. But I refuse
to let James get me down. And I certainly won't let James drive me crazy. I'll keep my
wits about me. He's mine and he's not going anywhere just because James released a
few butterflies in my stomach.
That afternoon I read almost the entire first half of the book, although that's a total
exaggeration. That evening I'm so tired that I fall into bed half dead. Unfortunately, all I
dream about is James, his dark eyes and the way he hoarsely whispered my name, over
and over and over.
The next morning feels like my first day of school. I'm nervous and excited, and my
stomach does a somersault as the bus pulls to a stop. I wonder what it will be like to
see James again. Will he come to me? Or should I go to him?
Is that too offensive? Are we going to pretend nothing happened? Or have we clearly
increased since Saturday? The thoughts are racing in my head and I'm annoyed
that I didn't just call him yesterday. Then at least I would now know where we stand and
how I should behave. I hate that I'm so insecure.
After I get off the school bus, I put extra effort into fixing my school uniform.
No wrinkle can be in the wrong place, my tie has to be straight. I carry the bag James
gave me over my shoulder. Her weight gives me a strange sense of security. As if it
were confirmation that there really is something between James and me. I run my fingers
over the initials on the flap as I look up at the massive iron gates of Maxton
Hall.
I can do it. Just act normal. Everything is as usual, I tell myself, straighten my back
and enter the school grounds.
During the assembly, James is nowhere to be seen. His friends are sitting in the
back row, and as I walk past them to the front, I hear Cyril snort. I don't know if it's for
me, but I still get a queasy feeling in my stomach. I turn around and he looks at me
coldly. I ignore him.
I have art in the first block and try as I might, I just can't concentrate. All I can think
about is the fact that I'm going to maths after that, which is in the same room James is
sitting in right now. We've often bumped into each other in the corridor between
lessons because Mrs Wakefield almost always runs over her lessons.
When the doorbell rings, I try not to get up from my chair too quickly, but
judging by the look Alistair gives me from across the room, I'm only moderately
successful. I start walking towards the main building. The closer I get to the room, the
faster my heart beats. Just before I have to turn into the hallway, I stop and adjust my
black over-the-knee socks so that they are at exactly the same height. Then I take a
deep breath and walk around the corner.
I'm mentally prepared to meet James, but when I spot him in the hallway next to
Lydia, my heart still skips a beat. Seeing him in his school uniform feels strange and
familiar at the same time. After a short break in which I try to calm my pulse, I
continue walking. I can just say hello to both of them. Just say hello, nothing more.
There's nothing funny about that. The last thing I want is for things to get weird. I
only have to look into his eyes to know what's going on. Will I find the same nervousness
in it that tormented me all Sunday?
Lydia spots me first. Barely noticeably, she pushes James with hers
Poor in. He murmurs a few words and nods at her. Then he comes to me. My smile
mutates into a grin on its own. He's only a few steps away from me and I open
my mouth to greet him when he walks past me.
…
…
“Hey,” I hear him say behind me. I turn around and see how
he greets Cyril. They chat briefly, James gesticulating and Cyril letting out a laugh.
The two walk the few meters to their room and then disappear inside without looking
back.
A nasty pain spreads through my chest. I remain still
in place, in the middle of the hallway. I swallow hard. When I look up, there is only Lydia
there besides me. For a moment it looks like she wants to say something, but then she
turns around without saying a word
disappears into one of the rooms while I can't put one foot in front of the other. It's simply
impossible for me to move.
I spend the rest of the day in a trance. Each class seems longer than the last. I hear
the words our teachers say, but I don't understand them and I don't take in a single
one of them. At lunchtime, I just can't bring myself to go to the cafeteria. Just the
thought of seeing James there with his friends, firmly anchored in his world again,
turns my stomach. Instead, I sit in the library and stare out the window.
I just don't know what I did wrong. I can't imagine

explain why he behaves this way. I rack my brain about it, but I didn't make a mistake.
And even if he did, I don't deserve him to treat me like that. During math, I tried to
convince myself that he probably just didn't see me. But when we met in the hallway
after class, he walked past me again without even looking at me. An unmistakable signal.
Of course, Lin notices that something is wrong, but I haven't told her about the
kiss yet, and now I can't anymore. It feels like there is an open wound in my chest.
Everything hurts: when I breathe, when I move, when I speak.

Lin has to take over the team meeting alone while I just sit next to her and doodle in
my planner. I spot the spot where I wrote over James' name with eraser. No one knows
what's underneath, but I run my finger over the white spot and swallow hard.
I didn't imagine our kiss. The way James

said my name. The way he looked at me. How desperate his touches were. There
was something between us. Something big. And even if for some reason he decided that
the whole thing was a mistake, he could have just told me. I'm a rational person and I
know that there are some things that just don't work. That would have hurt too, but I
could have lived with that.
What I can't handle is the fact that he's misbehaving like this. And the
longer I sit in the meeting and on his empty
The more I stare, the angrier I get. Was it all just a game for him?
Was he trying to see how far he could push me? Maybe it was something his friends
dared him to do. Or maybe he was just trying to get me to put in a good word with
Lexington. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Was everything I'd learned about him in
the last few weeks nothing but a lie? Was he the James Beaufort I first met all along?
Calculating, deceitful, and arrogant?
I look out the window and can see the lacrosse team on the field in the distance.
My anger rises beyond measure.
It devours me from the inside out, and my skin becomes hot and cold at the same time.
Unconsciously, I clench my teeth so hard that they grind. It takes a lot of effort not
to let the chaos of emotions raging inside me show during the meeting. When it's over, I
turn to Lin.
"Is it okay if I go? I don't feel well." She looks at me thoughtfully

and finally nods slowly.
"Of course, I'll take care of everything. We can talk on the phone later if you like." It
sounds like a cautious offer, and I squeeze her shoulder gratefully.
I leave the room without saying goodbye to the others.

The bag over my shoulder suddenly no longer feels like a gift from a friend, but like a
bribe. I can't focus on anything other than my disappointment and anger as I stomp
through the library and outside towards the sports field.
I can hear the shouts and roars from far away.

Damn lacrosse.
I come to an abrupt halt on the sidelines and watch myself
with my arms folded. It doesn't take long until I spot the royal blue jersey with the
white number seventeen.
“Beaufort, your girlfriend is here,” Wren calls out not a second later.
Even though I can't see his grin through his helmet, I can clearly hear it in his tone.
James turns to the side and sees me standing on the sidelines. I

I almost expect him to ignore me again, but then he gestures with his hand.
“Keep going,” he calls and jogs over to me. When he gets to me, he looks at me for
the first time that day - at least that's what I think.
I can't really see it because of the helmet.
“Well.” My voice trembles with anger. I don't know that about myself. I
I'm always calm, never so agitated that I lose control of myself. Since when have I
been like this? Since when can I no longer approach things rationally, like I used to?
The answer is , since James came into my life . I've only been like this since I met
him.
He remains silent. I wait for him to make some sort of move, but he doesn't.
"Can you maybe take that thing off?" I ask, pointing to his helmet.
He sighs in annoyance, but does as I ask. His hair is sweaty and disheveled,
his cheeks are red. Now that he is standing right in front of me, I can see a wound on his
mouth. It looks as if he had been in a fight. I carefully raise my hand - it happens all by
itself - to touch him, but he flinches away. I clench my hand into a fist and let it fall again,
discouraged.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask angrily.

His face is completely emotionless as he looks at me. "What's wrong?" I'm sure
my cheeks are
as red as his, and that's just because he makes me so mad. "You're acting like an
asshole, that's what's going on." His eyebrows furrow close to his eyes. “Am I doing that?”
“Stop acting so stupid and tell
me why you want me
“Ignore you,” I demand, quieter but no less emphatic.

Again he says nothing and just looks at me as if this
Bore the conversation to death. I take a step towards him.
“Was this all part of your plan?” I ask him. "Were you just being nice to me so you
could train again?" He lets out a snort that almost
sounds like a laugh, but suddenly he can't hold my gaze anymore. Instead, he
looks at the floor, where the tips of our shoes almost touch.
“If I need to remind you, you kissed me after

I fired you from the events team. So that really wouldn’t have been necessary
at that point.”
He just remains silent.
»Why are you acting like this?« I ask him, hating the way my voice shakes. »Is it
because of your father? Did he do something?« James looks up again, and now my anger
seems
to be reflected in his eyes. »If it makes you feel better, then feel free to put it aside.
like this."
It feels like he's shoved me in the chest. "You kissed me . Not the other way around.
You didn't have to do that if you're so ashamed of it afterwards."
The furrows on his forehead become even deeper. »Don't interpret that
so much in. You gave me something, I liked it. End of story." "You liked it - end of
story?" I say in
disbelief.
I can't believe that the guy standing here in front of me is actually the guy I kissed
on the steps on Saturday.
That it was his tongue that parted my lips, his touch that made my knees go weak.
Now he just shrugs his shoulders.

“Jesus Christ, James, what’s wrong with you,” I murmur, shaking my head.
Even though I'm so angry, I wonder where the wound on his mouth came from. Who
he got into a fight with. Whether I could have done something about it.
»You could have just told me that the kiss was a mistake
was," I say as calmly as possible.
»Well, then I'll tell you now,« he replies coolly. »That was a
nice thing, but it's really time we got back to how things were." I can't
believe he just
said that seriously.
I feel like I ended up in the wrong movie. Something is terribly wrong here, but I can't
stop it anymore. It feels like an avalanche that is unstoppable and takes everything in
its area with it.
»You don't have to maliciously destroy our friendship just because

your friends or your parents tell you something, you know?"
He smiles, but it's more of a grimace and nothing like the way he's been looking at
me for the past few weeks. I hardly recognize him »You try like a woman possessed to
control everything around you, to correct every mistake you find in others - but it doesn't
work that way, Ruby. This has nothing to do with my friends or family. This is me.” He
places his palm on his chest protector. »Horrible and twisted and wrong. You should
start getting comfortable with the idea." The anger disappears and in its place is despair.
It's exactly the same feeling that came over me at the party when I imagined
having to say goodbye to him. But now it is much more
severe and hurts much more. Because his farewell to me seems final.
I make one last attempt and raise my hand, placing it on his cheek. I gently stroke
his skin with my thumb. "You are not terrible, wrong or false." He lets out a bitter laugh and
shakes his head.
"I don't want to lose you," I whisper to all the remaining

summoning up the remaining courage that I can find within myself.
He puts his hand over mine on his cheek. He closes his eyes,
and it almost looks as if this moment is causing him physical pain. His fingers gently
stroke the back of my hand and a tingling sensation spreads through me. "You can't
lose something that isn't yours, Ruby Bell."
He pulls my hand away from his face. Then he opens the

He opens his eyes again and looks at me. It's the same look as two months ago -
cold and distant. I suddenly feel hollow. An icy coldness spreads through me as
the meaning of his words sinks in.
“Beaufort!” Wren shouts across the sports field. »You just missed your first training
session in weeks. Come on now, man!” He wants to turn
around, I can tell by the way his body tenses up. It's like he's connected to his
friends by an invisible wire.
»Are we done here? The boys are waiting," he says emotionlessly

points with his thumb over his shoulder.
I have never felt so humiliated in my life.
Adrenaline rushes through my body as pain, desperation and anger mix together. I
have to clench my hands into fists to keep from hitting his chest. I want it more than
anything, but he's so cold and distant that I don't want to give him the satisfaction of
losing his temper in front of his friends.
"Yes. We're done," I say as dignified as possible.

James is not interested in my dignity. He turns around before
I finish the sentence and runs back to his friends. My pride disappears a little
more with each of his steps until I can hardly stand upright anymore.
OceanofPDF.com
24
Ruby
Green – Important!
Turquoise - School
Pink - Maxton Hall Events Committee Purple - Family
Orange - Nutrition
and Exercise
If I divided my afternoon into colors, it would look like this:
Lila – Crying to Ember

Lila – Crying to Mum
Lila – Avoiding Dad so he can't ask me too many questions
Orange – Go for a run with Ember to clear your head
Green - give the bag back to James Beaufort and let him know how much he can kiss my
ass
A good list, I think. And if it actually existed, I would have already ticked off every point
except the last one.
I spent an hour trying to write a letter to him with a towel turban on my head. And
now I'm still sitting here, surrounded by crumpled papers, and I've decided to give up.
I wanted to write something expressing my anger and disappointment, but on paper the
words suddenly seemed completely irrational to me. I wish I had told him all of this on the
sports field, but I was in far too much shock to be quick-witted.
In front of me on my pin board hangs the card that James gave me on my

birthday. The words meant so much to me back then.
I actually believed he was serious about her. Now everything that happened between us
feels like I imagined it. As if everything - our phone calls, the moments we laughed
together, our kiss - had come from a flowering imagination.
Suddenly I can't look at the card for a moment longer. I tear it off the pinboard, take a
black pen and write the first thing that seems to make the most sense to me at that second:
James,
fuck you.
–Ruby
I look at my work with my head tilted. I wrote the words right under his, and it hurts to
look at them and realize that we have actually gotten to this point.
"Ruby?" Ember pokes her head into my room. "Dad made dinner. Are you
coming?" I nod, unable to take my eyes off
the menu.
Ember comes to me and looks over my shoulder. She sighs and strokes my arm.
Then, without another word, she takes the box out from behind my door and helps me
put the bag back inside. My heart bleeds as I place the card on top and finally tape the
box shut.
“I can drop it off at the post office on the way to school tomorrow,” she says quietly.
A lump has formed in my throat and is getting bigger and bigger

appears. “Thank you,” I say hoarsely as Ember takes me in her arms.
Ember takes the box to her room so I don’t see it
I'm grateful that she didn't say anything about James' sweater, even though I saw her
eyes linger on it for a moment. I didn't have the heart to put it in the box. And I refuse
to think about what that means.
After dinner, I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I give myself this one
evening and this one night to mourn what happened between me and James. To mourn my
friend, who I lost without knowing why.
But that's all. I'm still me, and I've vowed to myself that I won't let anyone or
anything deter me from my path. From tomorrow on, everything will be the same as it was
for the last two years. I'll concentrate on school and go to the event meetings. I'll have
lunch with Lin in the cafeteria. I'll prepare for the interviews in Oxford.
I will live again in a world where James Beaufort and the

rest of Maxton Hall doesn't know my name.
James
Ruby is incredibly good at staying out of my way. It's as if she had memorized my schedule
so she wouldn't run into me anywhere. When our paths do cross, she walks past
me with firm steps without even looking at me, both hands tightly gripping the
straps of her green backpack. Every time I see her, I think of her card, which is folded
up in my wallet and which I sometimes take out when the longing for Ruby becomes
unbearable again.
Like now.
When will this finally stop? When will I think about something else
What else can I think of than Ruby? Especially now is the worst possible time
to be distracted. The Thinking Skills Assessment is on Thursday and if I want to have
even a sliver of a chance at Oxford, I need to do exceptionally well.
Unfortunately, I can't remember anything about what Lydia and I were in

We have been discussing for the last half hour. We printed out all the
exercises we could find, spread them out in Lydia's room and worked through them one
by one until our heads were spinning. Lydia is just closing the book she was leafing
through in search of an answer and is leaning on her elbow.
She is lying on her stomach, her legs bent, and her feet are tapping in time to the music
playing quietly in the background. When she reaches out her hand, I silently hand her the
bag of chips that we have been taking turns using for over an hour.
Then I run my finger along the edge of it again

Ruby's card. It's now quite dull and the corners are full
Kinks. I'm about to put it away again when Lydia crawls a little closer to me on her stomach.
“What’s that?” she asks suddenly, grabbing the card faster than I can react. I
immediately want to get it back, but Lydia has already unfolded it and is reading mine and
Ruby's words. Her eyes darken and when she looks up I can see pity in her eyes.
"James..."
I rip the card out of her hand and put it back in my wallet, which I then shove into my
pocket. Then I open the book that Lydia just put aside and start reading. However, the letters
don't make any sense, no matter how hard I concentrate.
Why the hell is my heart beating so fast? And why do I feel so caught?
»James.« I
look up from the book. »What?« Lydia sits
cross-legged and begins to style her hair into a
She twirls it into a messy bun, which she then secures high on her head with a hair tie.
“What’s this card about?” I shrug. “Nothing.” Lydia raises an eyebrow and takes a
meaningful look at
my trouser pocket, where my wallet and card
have just disappeared. Then she looks at me again, warmer this time. "What happened
between you and Ruby?"
My shoulders stiffen. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Lydia snorts quietly
and shakes
her head. "I know exactly how you feel right now," she says after we've been silent for a
while. "You don't have to pretend to me that the whole thing with Ruby isn't bothering you. I have
eyes in my head, James. I can tell when you're not feeling well." I stare at the book again.
Lydia is right - I'm miserable.
Everything in my life is a disaster and there's nothing I can do about it.
»What bothers me,« I say, »is the fact that I have a crappy family and the
thought of my own future
I feel Lydia's
compassionate gaze on me, but I cannot
I'm afraid that I'll lose the last bit of self-control I have left, and I can't
allow that. Not in this house, where my father has eyes and ears everywhere and I've never
felt really safe.
"Ruby isn't feeling well either. Why..." "I was only

keeping an eye on Ruby because of you ," I interrupt. "That's all." The words scratch
my throat and feel unspeakably wrong as I say them. I can't breathe properly, and Lydia's
gaze is so intense that the weight on my chest becomes heavier and heavier. I have to blink
against the unfamiliar burning in my eyes and swallow hard.
“Oh, James,” she whispers and takes my cold hand and rubs it
her thumb over the back of my hand. I can't remember the last time we touched
each other like this. I look at her pale fingers wrapped around mine for a while. Somehow,
with this simple gesture, she manages to make it a little easier for me to breathe again.
»I know what it is like when you can’t have someone, even though
you know that he is the only one with whom this life would be somewhat bearable,"
says Lydia suddenly and squeezes my hand tightly. "When I met Graham, I knew
immediately that there was something special between us."
I look up suddenly. Lydia returns my gaze calmly. So far has

She has never spoken to me about the Sutton thing and has vehemently blocked any
attempts I have made to get her to talk. The fact that she is now talking tells
me how bad I am at hiding my despair from her and how sorry I really am. Nevertheless, I
am grateful to her for changing the subject.
»How did you meet? What about at school?« She shakes her head. For a moment it
looks as if
they are looking for the right words. I can see that it takes some effort for her
to tell the story. After all, she kept this secret forever.
»It was over two years ago, shortly after the Gregg incident,« begins
Lydia, and instantly hot anger flares up in my stomach. Gregg
Fletcher had been posing as Lydia's boyfriend for several months, although he was
actually an editor at a national newspaper. He took advantage of Lydia and broke her
heart just to get information about our family and our company.
I grip Lydia's hand tighter. “At that point I didn’t feel like it anymore,” she continues.
"On nothing. I completely withdrew.”
"I remember." The media followed Fletcher's
Exposés descended on our family like hyenas. It was a terrible time and we all had to
find a way to cope. Mine was coke and too much alcohol, hers was a grim silence and a
wall that nothing could penetrate.
»One evening I was just desperate. I had no one

to talk, even though I needed to so badly. I was fifteen years old and had let a reporter
take my virginity because I was naive enough to believe that there could really be someone
out there who was interested in me . Not just in Beaufort. I felt terrible. I blamed myself so
much and asked myself how I could have been so stupid." She pauses briefly
and takes a deep breath.
»That evening I created an anonymous profile on Tumblr

I just wanted to let it all out without any consequences. My first post was a
bunch of confused words. I just wrote down how I felt and that I wished I could be someone
else. A day later I had a very sweet message in my inbox." I stare at her. "But not
from Sutton, right?" She nods. "It wasn't much, just a few kind, compassionate words, but
in that situation they meant the world
to me." A slight smile appears on her lips. "After that we
started writing to each other regularly. We talked about all sorts of things, confided in
each other things that we hadn't told anyone before. He told me about Oxford and the
overwhelming pressure of competition that was slowly giving way to him. I told
me about my broken heart and my fears for the future. We encouraged each other. Of
course I never told him my real name, and I didn't know his either. But what I shared with
him felt more real than anything else in my life."
“That’s crazy.” She

nods again. “I know.” “And then?” I
ask.
»We are together for the first time in six months
on the phone. For five hours. My ear hurt half the night because I was pressing
the receiver so hard against it. After that, we talked more and more." I remember the night
of Ruby's birthday, when we also talked on the
phone for what felt like an eternity. I drove home from Wren's party just to keep
hearing her voice.
"So that's why you threw me out of your room so often," I say with a grin.
"And then you met at some point?"
"It took me over a year to get up the courage to meet Graham. We went for
coffee after he graduated."
It's just unimaginable that all of this passed me by.

“So when did you… get together?” I ask, realizing at the same time that I sound like a
sixth grader.
Lydia blushes. "We were never really together, but we spent a lot of time together over
the summer." She clears her throat. "When Graham got the job at Maxton Hall, he ended
things between us. Immediately. He said we could continue to be online friends, just
like before, but that's all." A suspicious gleam comes into her eyes. "I was okay with
that, you know? Better that than losing him completely. Then when he had no prospect of
being hired at the end of the school year, I got hope again. The whole thing started again
until he got word in the middle of the summer that a position had opened up. The same
heartbreak all over again. Only this time he didn't even want to have anything to do with
me online. He cut me out of his life completely because he thought it would be better for
both of us."
I think for a moment about everything she's telling me

has. “What was that at the beginning of the school year?” I ask. "The day Ruby saw
you together?" She swallows hard. “A kind of
relapse.”
I nod slowly. I knew that Sutton was more than just a nice way to pass the time for
Lydia. She had suffered too much in the last few weeks and was too protective of him
when I made a comment about him. But I never expected that the two of them could have
a two-year history together. And that things were so serious between them.
"Just one more year and then maybe you could..." I don't even know what I'm
suggesting. Even if Lydia doesn't go to Maxton Hall College anymore, a relationship with a
former teacher would ruin her reputation once and for all. I can only imagine what our
parents would say.
“I'm not stupid, James. I know that Graham and I don't stand a chance." She
pulls her hand away from me and reaches for the bag of chips, as if she hadn't just told
me her biggest secret. She shoves a handful into her mouth, her gaze transfigured on the
throw of her bed.
It hurts me to see her like this. And above all, it hurts me that I
can't help her. Because she's right: there is no future for her and Sutton, just as there is
no future for Ruby and me.
"Thank you for telling me," I finally say.
Lydia swallows the chips and then takes a big
Sip from her water bottle. "Maybe you'll tell me about Ruby sometime."
The pressure on my chest, which had slowly disappeared during her story, is
suddenly back. I ignore Lydia's searching look and pull the next exercise sheet from the
pile. "There is nothing to tell." Lydia's quiet sigh reaches my ears as if from far away. The
task on the
paper blurs with the memory of Ruby coming up to me on the sports field and the
mean words I threw at her. All of this runs over and over in my mind's eye like a cruel
endless loop until at some point I can no longer concentrate on the tasks at all and all I
can see is the wall.
stare.
The TSA is going well. Everyone in my family is so confident that I can make it that I don't
even want to think about what
happens when that is not the case.

The week after the TSA is one of the last meetings of the Oxford study group.
Ruby sits with Lin at the other end of the room. As always in the last few days, she doesn't
look at me, but she also doesn't let on that anything has happened between
us. She behaves the same as usual, brings everyone to their knees with her astute
arguments and even manages to leave our tutor speechless at one point.
It's hard for me not to look at her constantly. Damn hard. As soon as she opens her
mouth, I find myself hanging on her lips and the urge to kiss her overcomes me.
In moments like this I conjure up the image of my father and

I remember the back of his hand hitting my cheek and the pain that throbbed in my jaw
for days afterward. It wasn't the first time he hit me. It doesn't happen often, but it happens
often enough - especially when he thinks I'm not living up to our family's standards.
It hurts me that Ruby doesn't live up to his expectations, but I'll have to live with it. I was
born into a family that I cannot isolate myself from, no matter how much I wish I could. I will go
to Oxford and I will inherit Beaufort .
It is time for me to accept this and stop

pity.
»Now let's look at the second question. James, would you share your thoughts with
us?” Pippa asks suddenly. I have no idea what she just said. The only thing I understood
was my name.
»I'm not very keen,« I reply and lean back. If I

Honestly, I just want to go home. And if I'm being completely honest,
all I want is Ruby, but that's not possible.
Her sitting in this room without looking at me is like torture. She is the only thing
that motivated me. Now there's only lacrosse, I don't care about anything else. Even the
parties with my friends can't distract me from the fact that everything in my life feels pointless
right now. The clock to graduation is ticking faster and faster and I just don't know how
to stop it all. How I can make my existence not seem so dispensable to me.
“If you are invited to the applicant interviews, you must have an answer to every
question,” says Pippa emphatically and makes an encouraging gesture.
I lift the paper in front of me slightly to see the italicized text

to be able to read better.
When, if ever, is forgiveness wrong?
I look at the question. For ten seconds. Another ten, until my silence becomes
uncomfortable and someone in the room clears their throat. A cold shiver runs down my
arms and back down my spine.
The paper in my hand becomes heavier and heavier until I have to put it back on the table.
It feels like I'm swallowing cement, but there's nothing in my mouth. Just my inadequate
tongue, unable to form words.
"Forgiveness usually follows a harmful act," Ruby's voice suddenly rings out.
"But forgiving someone for the pain they've caused you doesn't mean they'll just
disappear. As long as you're still feeling the pain, forgiveness is wrong." I look up.
Ruby looks at me blankly, and I want to reach out my hand to her. There are only a few
meters
between us, but the distance feels so unbridgeable that it makes it hard for me to
breathe.
Get a damn grip, Beaufort.

»If you forgive people too easily, they start to feel like they are...
to be able to allow anything. So the anger of the person who has been wronged
is the punishment for the perpetrator who desperately wants forgiveness," adds Lin.
Yes, Ruby's anger feels like a punishment that I deserve. But

Still, I wish she didn't spend the rest of the school year hating me. She is said to be
looking forward to being able to live her dream in Oxford soon.
If anyone deserves this, it's her.

“Forgiveness can never be wrong,” I reply quietly. Something flashes in Ruby's
piercing green eyes. »Forgiveness is a sign of greatness and strength. If you lose
yourself in anger for years and destroy yourself, you are no better than the person who
wronged you.
Ruby snorts contemptuously. »Something like that can

only someone who constantly does injustice to others."
»Isn't there a saying? 'Forgive but don't forget'?«
Alistair looks around, and Keshav and Wren hum in agreement. »You can forgive
someone for their actions, but that doesn't mean that what happened is gone.
Forgiveness is something mandatory to bring closure. Forgetting is something that
takes a long time or doesn't happen at all. And that's okay. Forgiveness helps you let go
and move on.”
Lydia, to my right, sits up. “It sounds like forgiveness comes at the snap
of a finger and only forgetting is really tiring. But you shouldn't forgive everything
that was done to you. If it's really bad, you can't just get rid of it."
“I think so too,” Ruby agrees. »If you forgive too quickly,

This means you don't take yourself seriously and carelessly push your own pain
aside. This is self-destructive behavior. It takes time to recognize when to let go,
that's true, but if you view the decision to forgive as a simple means to an end, it's
wrong."
“Perhaps we could distinguish between healthy and unhealthy forgiveness,”

Lydia says, and Ruby nods. »Unhealthy forgiveness comes too quickly and can lead
to you being treated badly again. But healthy forgiveness only comes after
careful consideration. In that case, you think enough of yourself not to be treated
badly again.”
“But forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation,” says

Wren, sitting next to Lydia. I lean forward a little to look at him. He has both
hands clasped behind his head and is sitting low in his chair. "If the original meaning of
forgiveness is letting go of anger, it is intended for the victim rather than the
perpetrator, so he or she can determine the standards by which he or she forgives."
"But there are also unforgivable acts." Kesh spoke quietly.
Everyone turns to him, but he has his arms crossed and looks like that was all he
wanted to say.
“Can you expand on that a little further, Keshav?” Pippa asks

friendly.
»By that I mean murder or something like that - I think it's perfectly okay if the
victim's relatives don't forgive. I mean, why should they?” The back of my neck tingles
slightly and I barely noticeably
look back at Ruby. Her eyes meet mine and the tingling sensation grows stronger.
Two tables and the space between us separate us, but I want to bridge the distance with
a jump, take her face in my hands and kiss her again.
"But again, that depends on each person's moral beliefs. Everyone has a higher
or lower threshold for what they consider unforgivable," says Lydia.
Kesh says something else, but I'm no longer listening. In Ruby's eyes, I can
see exactly where her moral threshold lies in that second. What I said to her is
unforgivable for her. Her mouth is pressed into a hard line and there are dark circles
under her eyes that are probably there because of me. She would never forgive me, and
even though I knew there was no future for us, it's only at that moment that I realize
what that actually means. I'll never get the chance to touch her again. I'll never talk to her
again. Laugh with her again. Kiss her again.
The realization shakes me to my core. It's as if a deep black hole is opening up

beneath me and I'm falling and falling and falling into it.
I try with all my might to take deep, calm breaths as the rest of the discussion
rushes past me, just like everything else.
OceanofPDF.com
25
Ruby
I used to always love to dream. In my dreams the impossible was possible. I could fly
and sometimes even do magic, I went to Oxford and traveled around the world as an
ambassador. Most of the time my dreams were vivid and seemed so realistic to me that I
went to school the next day hyper-motivated and tried to give more than 100 percent.
Now I hate my dreams. James stars in most of them, and I just want it to stop. I
wake up in the middle of the night, not from nightmares, but from a throbbing between
my legs because I dreamed of him grabbing me and kissing me. I dream of him offering
physical favors again in exchange for my silence, and this time I don't stop him when
he unbuttons his shirt. I dream of him leading me into a world where he hasn't
cut me out of his life.
This morning I wake up again with hot cheeks and that

Cover up between my legs. Groaning, I roll onto my back and put an arm over my
eyes. This can not continue like that. I have to somehow manage to get James
out of my subconscious, otherwise I'll go crazy. How am I supposed to forget
him when my dreams show me every night what could have happened between us?
I rub my eyes and reach for my cell phone, which is on the nightstand. It's almost
six, and my alarm clock will ring in ten minutes anyway. Tired, I sit up and go to my
email. I've received eight new emails since last night. I scroll through them slowly to
see if there's anything important.
When I see who the sender of the last email is, I sit up in bed so quickly that I feel
dizzy for a moment.
I have an email from St Hilda's Admissions Officer in my inbox.
With bated breath, I open the message.
Dear Ruby, I
am delighted to invite you to an interview at St Hilda's College, Oxford.
Congratulations on successfully passing the first selection process.
I no longer notice the text that comes after that. My screech is so loud it echoes
throughout the house. Ember comes running into my room and I jump out of bed. It takes
me a moment to find my balance, but when I do, I hold the phone in front of her. At the
same time I start jumping up and down.
“Oh my God!” she shouts, grabbing my hands and then jumping with me
in a circle. "Oh my God, Ruby!"
Then I run down the stairs so fast that I almost fall on my face. Dad has already
rolled into the hallway in his wheelchair, Mum comes out of the kitchen with wide eyes. I
solemnly hold up my cell phone. "I'm invited to the interviews!"
Mum claps her hands over her mouth and Dad lets out a whoop. Ember wraps her
arm around my waist and hugs me tightly to her side. "I'm so happy for you! But I don't
want you to move either." "I'm only invited to the interviews, that doesn't mean
I'll be
accepted. Plus, Oxford is only two hours away.” I'm so excited I can't stand still. My
dream, which was infinitely far away for years, has now moved a lot closer. I can almost
touch it, everything suddenly feels so real. My whole body tingles with energy.
"We all know you're going to rock the interviews," Dad says, and Ember and I
laugh at his choice of words. "They'll have no choice but to take you." I grin so broadly
that the corners of my mouth start to hurt. But I
can't stop it either. I haven't been so happy about anything in a long time.
»I'm so proud of you, darling.« Mum gives me a kiss on the

part and pulls me tightly to him. After she lets go of me, I lean down to Dad, who hugs
me back.
“What does that mean exactly?” he asks after I sit up again.
I read the email, this time to the end. »It says here that
I should arrive next Sunday evening at eight. The interviews will then take
place on Mondays and Tuesdays. Departure is Wednesday morning.«
»Four days in Oxford,« whispers Mum, shaking her head. »I knew that
They will invite you.” I beam at
them again. “It says here that I’ll get free room and board.”
“Then we chose the right university for you,” says Dad, his eyes sparkling with
happiness.
"I know exactly what you're going to wear." Ember grabs my hand and pulls me
toward the stairs.
»I've had my outfits for Oxford decided since the summer holidays.«
Longer actually, considering I've had an Oxford style board on Pinterest for over a year
now, which Ember and I constantly pin inspiration to. I wave to Mom and Dad before
Ember pulls me behind her. I can still hear my parents on the stairs:
“Oxford,” Mum whispers.

"Oxford," Dad replies just as quietly.
You sound so happy. I sincerely hope that I have passed the TSA and
that I will get through the interviews well. I want to continue to make them proud and be
the reason they are so happy. If my family is happy, I am too.
I let Ember take me into my room and to the closet

tug. While she takes out one outfit after another and places them on my bed, I fill
out the university registration form and confirm that I will take part in the interviews.
I then send Lin a screenshot of the email and eagerly await her response.
I still can't quite grasp it.

Even if it's only for four days: I'll go to Oxford.
It is pitch black when we arrive in Oxford on Sunday evening.

Nonetheless, my parents, Ember and I decide to take another walk around the
campus. St. Hilda's is located at the eastern end of Oxford's High Street, and we walk
along the River Cherwell, which glitters atmospherically in the light of the lanterns, and
between the imposing buildings that do not look run down despite the weathered grey stone
of their facades. On the contrary, with their semi-circular windows with white frames
and small balustrades, they exude the magical charm of old stories that I definitely want to
hear at some point.
St Hilda's is breathtakingly beautiful. And as I push Dad along the cobbled campus
path, Mum and Ember beside us, I feel like I'm walking straight into a fairy tale. The
permanent grin I've been wearing since last week is getting even wider.
"You'll be sitting right there next year," Dad says suddenly, pointing to the lawn to
our left. »A pile of specialist reading material in front of you. On a checkered blanket.”
“Your ideas are pretty specific, Dad,” I say with a smile.
“Indeed.” He nods seriously.

Aside from the fact that St Hilda's is beautiful, what I also like about the college is
that it is known for its diversity, sense of community and the way all students treat one
another with respect. Everyone is welcome here, no matter what country or social
class they come from. After my time at Maxton Hall, I need this. I
want to feel comfortable and not have to hide again. I can't imagine spending the next
four years in a strictly conservative college like Balliol.
Additionally, St Hilda's has unicorns on its coat of arms.

"I can't believe I'm really here," I whispered. "I'm so lucky." Ember clicks her tongue
at me. "It's not luck.
You worked hard for this." She's right. And yet I already feel sick when I think about
the interviews
that await me in the next few days. I really need to prepare a bit more this evening
and review the notes,
that I learned in Pippa's class. I know them by heart, but I know I'll feel better afterward.
After we picked up my room key for the accommodation I will be staying in for the
next few days from the porter's lodge and I said goodbye to my family with a heavy heart,
I took my small travel bag and entered the dorm. Inside, it was nothing special - blue
carpet, bare white walls, but I still felt butterflies in my stomach as I climbed the stairs
to the first floor. Perhaps this building will soon be my new home. –, but I have
My room is at the beginning of the hall on the left. I get the

I take out the key and am about to put it in the lock when I hear someone else enter the
hallway behind me. I turn around, smiling.
My smile dies.
The person I thought was a student
has reddish-blonde, windswept hair and wears a black, tailored coat.
It's James.
"You've got to be kidding me," I blurt out.
He seems at least as surprised as I am. His expression darkens
and he looks at the key in his hand. He takes three long steps, his small suitcase in
tow, until he reaches the room opposite mine.
I feel like fate is playing a nasty trick on me.
Without saying a word, he opens the door and enters his room. His
His dark gaze lands on me once more briefly, then he closes the door behind him
and leaves me in the hallway.
I've had myself so well under control over the last few weeks. I ignored him,
even if it hurt, and behaved as if the whole thing had completely passed me by. I
didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how angry and hurt I was. And
how much I miss him. But now I feel the anger rising inside me again. I want to go to his
door and kick it down. I want to throw at him all the words that have been
building up in me over the last few weeks.
I actually know that there is nothing more to say. He is, like

he is. I was like a little break for him, and it was unrealistic to think that James could
become something like a friend to me - or even more than that.
I can't let the fact that he's here too unsettle me. I have a goal and I won't
lose sight of it.
I've already come too far for that. Maybe I should just see it as another challenge to
overcome on my way to Oxford. And as long as James doesn't get in my way, I
can live with him living across the street from me. I'm going to do it just like I did in
school: pretend he doesn't exist.
I resolutely open the door to the room and step in. The room is decorated in a
minimalist style, with a small wooden desk, a white built-in wardrobe and a simple
bed. From here you have a view of the inner courtyard, in the middle of which is a
huge tree. I go to the window to get a closer look at him. Its reddish-brown leaves are
scattered on the ground, the whole lawn is full of them. A path leads completely around
the grassy area, at the edge of which there are lanterns and park benches. I do like
Dad - imagine that in a few months I'll be sitting there, a stack of books next to
me, my head full of new things being taught to me, on a campus that is just perfect.
Even though the whole thing with James still hurts like hell, it suddenly doesn't
seem so bad anymore. I'll get through this.
OceanofPDF.com
26
Ruby
When I wake up the next morning, I'm momentarily irritated by the bare white ceiling above
me. The mattress also feels strange when I turn around in bed. And it smells
completely different than my room.
You're at Oxford.
I sit up suddenly and look around. Then I push in
quiet squeaking. I grab my phone from the bedside table and scan my messages. Mum
and Dad remind me to eat a good breakfast because they know I sometimes have little
appetite when I'm really nervous, and Ember picked out a motivational quote for me that I'd
love to copy straight into my planner. Kieran wishes me good luck and says he's sure I can
do it. The last message is from Lin. She took a photo of her room in St. John's, which
doesn't look much different than mine. I write to her that I'm looking forward to seeing her at
the pub this evening - one of the dates on the calendar that the secretariat emailed me in
advance. Afterwards I get up and slowly get ready. My hands shake with excitement as I put
on my makeup and slip into my outfit.
and wish her all the best for the interviews. –,
I have the cognac-colored corduroy skirt and the one with subtle flowers
Embroidered white blouse picked out months ago and hung in my closet, especially
for this day. I also have my little burgundy bag with me and put on the braided leather
bracelet Ember gave me.
Although it doesn't match the rest of the outfit, it's barely visible under the long sleeve
of the blouse, and as soon as I fold it up, I feel like a part of my sister and my family is with
me.
In the breakfast room you can tell at first glance who the real ones are
are students and who are only here for the interviews. The former go purposefully to
the food distribution, laugh and have a lively conversation
with each other, and I have a strong desire that in a year's time I will be as they are
right now. I want to get my coffee without having to go around twice because I can't
find the machine, sit down at a table next to my friends and talk to them about the
weekend. And I want to give the students who have come for the interviews an encouraging
smile in the hope that it will make them feel better.
Last night it all felt so unreal. Now Oxford seems to be becoming a reality. I
eavesdrop on the two girls next to me talking about one of their seminars and don't even
notice how they catch me eavesdropping. I quickly lower my head and stare at my
toast, which feels like lead in my stomach after just a few bites.
My schedule says I'll be in after breakfast

should go to the common room. As I open the door, I'm surprised at how noisy
the small room is until I see that there are not only applicants in there, but also older
students lounging on the battered sofas, talking loudly and clearly trying to to lighten
the mood a bit.
I find a free chair next to one of the sofas and sit down on it. A boy my age sits
next to it, a book and a stack of index cards on his lap. He smiles at me, although it
seems more like a grimace to me. He looks as tense as I feel. With trembling fingers, I
also pull out my notes and start going through them one last time.
Suddenly I feel a tingling sensation in my neck that spreads across my entire

upper body. I raise my head and look towards the entrance to the common room. The next
moment I wish I hadn't. James is standing there, his hands buried in his pockets and an
inscrutable expression on his face.
Please don't see me, don't see me, don't see me He spots me …
on the chair. His gaze slowly moves over my
face, sweeps over my outfit, and finally lands on the index cards in my hand.
The corners of his mouth twitch just a little, but then, as if telling himself not to smile,
his expression hardens again and he looks around the common room, obviously
looking for a free chair.
"Ruby Bell?" a strange voice calls out. One of the older students has risen from the sofa.
He is huge - over six feet, at least - with wavy brown hair that is slightly slicked back and a
bright white smile. He is one of the guys who was just trying to lighten the mood, and that
makes me like him immediately.
"Here," I croak, standing up. My hands are cold and clammy. I wipe them on the
hem of my skirt so they can warm up again and I can shake his hand without it being
awkward.
I put the cards back in my pocket and get up to walk to the door where he is waiting for me.
As I pass James, I cock my chin, determined to ignore him. But he takes my hand. His
warm fingers wrap gently around my wrist. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin there.
“Good luck,” he whispers. Then he lets go of me and goes to the chair,

which I just freed up.
It takes me a few seconds to collect myself again.
My heart is racing, and this time it has nothing to do with being excited.
The guy who called my name smiles at me and waves

me over. "Hi. I'm Jude Sherington. I'm taking you to your interview," he explains and
nods towards the hallway. I leave the common room without looking back. In a
few minutes everything will be at stake. In a few minutes it can be decided whether I
will study at this university or not.
I touch the spot where James' thumb brushed my wrist. I should concentrate,
but I can't forget the feeling of his fingers on my skin all the way to the professor's office.
I would like to get up and walk back and forth a few times to get rid of the tension. But Jude
is still there and smiles at me every few minutes. He has led me through countless maze-
like corridors and now leans silently against the wall while I sit in a chair opposite the office door
and wait for it to open. It should be any second now.
I let the air out audibly.

“Nervous?” asks Jude.
What a question. »Scary. How was it for you back then?« »Something like
that.« He raises a hand and lets it shake exaggeratedly.
I find him so honest magical.
“But you did it.” “Yep.” An
encouraging smile comes to his face. "It is not
Witchcraft. You'll get through it." I nod,
shrug my shoulders and shake my head - all at the same time. When Jude
laughs, I grimace. At that moment the door opens and a girl comes out of the professor's
office. Her cheeks are red and her lips are bloodless. Apparently I'm not the only one who
is consumed by nerves. Unfortunately, I don't get a chance to ask her how it was, as she
disappears without a word.
The door to the office closes again and I look questioningly at Jude, who is still wearing
his reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry, she’ll let you know when you should come in.” So the wait begins
again. By now it feels like I've exhausted all my excitement just by sitting here for so
long.
After another five minutes, my left foot has gone to sleep and I move it discreetly to
stop the tingling. It feels like ants are dancing in my ankle boots. I shake my foot out
again - and just then the door creaks open. The professor appears in my field of vision
and I remain with my foot in the air at a strange angle.
“Ruby, please come.” She has a pleasant, calm voice

spreading like a fire blanket on my frayed nerves. I stand up and arch my back. Behind
me I can still hear Jude saying “Good luck,” but I don’t have the head to say thank
you anymore. The professor holds the door open for me to the office where the
interview is taking place, and as we go in together she introduces herself to me as
Prudence.
The office is about the same size as our living room at home, but because it's
completely cluttered it still feels cozy. The furniture looks antique, as if it has been there
since the college was founded, and the smell of old books fills the air. There are numerous
shelves on the walls with books stacked all over the place. One
Another lecturer sits at a desk on the opposite side of the room. She's busy taking notes
and only looks up when Prudence leads me across the room to a table. I smooth my skirt
again and then sit upright.
The two lecturers sit down on the other side of the table, open their notepads and
then lean back.
My heart is beating in my throat, but I try not to let it show and appear confident. I
firmly believe that I can ace this interview. I prepared and did everything I could have done
in advance.
I breathe in deeply and slowly let the air escape.

"We're delighted you've accepted the invitation, Ruby," the second lecturer finally
begins. "I'm Ada Jenson and I teach politics at St Hilda's with Prudence." Like
Prudence's, her voice has a calming effect on me and I wonder how it is that these women
are not only among the smartest in the country, but also have the gift of calming people
down so skillfully in such a situation.
“Thank you for the invitation,” I reply and clear my throat.

My voice sounds like I've swallowed something sticky that's still stuck in my throat.
"Let's start with the first question," Prudence continues.

»Why do you want to study at Oxford?«
I stare at her. I did not expect that. In the many reports about the applicant
interviews, I only read about opening questions that were directly related to the topic. I
can't help it - a grin spreads across my face. And then I start to tell the story. Of
all. I talk about how I became interested in politics as a young girl and how I knew from
the age of seven that I wanted to study at Oxford. I talk about how, on my twelfth birthday,
my father gave me a subscription to the Spectator and the New Statesman and spent
hours watching parliamentary debates on television with me. I talk about my passion
for organizing and debating and my desire to change things for the better. Without making
too much fuss, I would like to emphasize that for me Oxford is the best university where
I can learn what I need to achieve my goal.
After I've finished, I'm almost out of breath and can't tell if they're
happy with my answer or not. Since I wasn't expecting a high five or anything
like that anyway, that's fine with me. Two more questions follow, this time
actually from the field of politics. I try to argue well and not let my
questions unsettle me. The whole thing doesn't take more than fifteen
minutes, and then the interview is over.
“Thank you very much for the conversation,” I say, but Ada is already
lost in her notes and doesn’t hear me. Prudence walks me to the door and
smiles at me again as I say goodbye. I answer it and go outside. The
door closes behind me and from one second to the next I feel incredibly
exhausted.
Sitting on the chair opposite the door is the boy who smiled at me earlier in the
common room. I remember the girl with the bloodless lips who disappeared before I had
a chance to talk to her. I would have appreciated some words of encouragement
from her, but I can understand why she fled so quickly. Now that the adrenaline is
starting to wear off, I just want to get out of this building and get some fresh air.
Still, I force myself to say a sincere "You can do this, good luck" before leaving the room
and trying to find my way to my dorm.
OceanofPDF.com
27
Ruby
I spend the rest of the day looking around the campus. I get a coffee to go, stroll across
the sprawling green spaces and look around the buildings where, according to the
study guide, philosophy, political science and economics are taught. It is
exciting to move around among all the real students and at one point I am so lost in
thought that I don't notice that I am walking straight into a lecture hall with them. No one
seems to notice me, so I carefully sit down in the back row and spend the next hour and
a half listening to a lecture on the work of Immanuel Kant.
It's the best hour and a half of my life.

In the evening, applicants from all Oxford colleges will take a trip to the Turf Tavern ,
a legendary pub where celebrities such as Oscar Wilde, Thomas Hardy, Elizabeth Taylor,
Margaret Thatcher and the cast of Harry Potter have spent time. I arrive way early to the
meeting point indicated on my schedule, but I'm not the only one. Some boys and girls
that I recognize from the common room this morning are already standing around in
small groups, as is Jude, who greets me with his beaming smile and immediately begins
to question me about my interview. When we are complete, we set off for a walk. The
pub is approximately one and a half miles from St Hilda's campus. On the way we have
to cross the Magdalen Bridge, under which the River Cherwell glitters in the orange-
red light of the setting sun. Afterwards we pass a deer park where some deer twitch their
ears curiously and raise their heads when they hear us. Like most others, I reach out
to pet one of them - but they're probably not that tame. Everyone turns around at
once and runs away across the meadow.
The rest of the route leads between old buildings along paths,
some of which are so narrow that only two people can walk side by side. It's gradually
getting dark. If I had been alone, I would have me
I don't dare walk these streets, but Jude walks next to me and tells me about his studies,
so I'm distracted. I'm literally hanging on his every word. Everything I have seen
here today and what he is telling me now makes my desire to study here even
greater. I've never wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted Oxford.
Now that I've had a taste of it, it would crush me if I didn't make it. Could
I handle that?
I don't know it. Not to mention the fact that I don't have a plan B.
Suddenly the path becomes wider again. Lanterns provide light, and snatches of
conversation and music reach my ears. The square we come to after a few more minutes is
overcrowded with people. Most of them look like they're studying too and they're chatting
and drinking beer.
With our group we meander through them until

we arrive at the Turf Tavern . The building the pub is in looks old. Dark bars run
diagonally along the white plastered front. The roof is a bit crooked and has turned green in
some places and is overgrown with moss. There are seating areas in front of the pub
where a few people have made themselves comfortable under a parasol. It's
so cold that I can see my misty breath in the air, so it's understandable that most of them
are bundled up in thick coats, hats and wool blankets.
A chain of colorful lights hangs under the pub's lettering

Lightbulbs, directly below is the entrance. The door is dark green, and the paint
is already peeling off in some corners. Jude holds it open for me and I enter the pub.
The atmosphere inside is almost medieval. The

The Turf Tavern 's ceiling is low and the walls are made of rough-hewn, coarse
stone. Small lanterns hang on them and lamps with plate-shaped shades hang above
the tables. We are led through a narrow corridor to an area a little further back and away
from the noisy main room.
Jude, at what feels like two meters, runs in front of me, so I can't see much other
than his back.
But then I hear it. A laugh that I know very well.
Jude walks over to one of the tables reserved for us and pulls out a chair. The others take
turns finding their seats as I stand there staring at the group that has taken over the table next
to ours. Wren, Alistair, Cyril, Camille, Keshav, Lydia and... James are sitting there.
James who wished me good luck this morning and my

stroked her wrist.
James, who pauses with his beer just before his mouth when he spots me, only to
turn to Cyril on his right a second later and act as if nothing had happened.
I swallow hard.
I don’t know why I am so unprepared to meet him and his
Clique here. After all, I knew that they had applied to Oxford and that this evening
in the pub was a fixed part of the program for everyone who was invited to the interviews.
Nevertheless, it puts a damper on my euphoria and I have to accept that Oxford will
not be the completely new beginning that I had so beautifully imagined in my mind today. I
will have to live with seeing some of them again.
Assuming, of course, that I am accepted at all.

“Ruby!” I
spin around and see Lin running toward me with his arms outstretched. Her
cheeks are flushed from the cold air outside, and she has a thick gray scarf wrapped
around her neck, covering half her face. The next moment she falls around my neck
and I wrap my arms around her at least as tightly.
"Tell me everything," I say excitedly after we've separated.
"Have a seat," Jude says, pointing to the bench across from him. Lin falls onto
it first, and I follow her after taking off my coat. Somehow I manage not to cast another
glance in James' direction.
“It’s cool here,” says Lin after we’ve sat down and the drinks and menus are in
front of us. “It’s almost like you’ve traveled back in time.” “Yes, I think the pub’s history
really shows,” I agree.
»But now tell me! Your text message was so cryptic. Is it
went well?"
"You first!" Lin replies, and I tell her a short version of my interview that
morning.
»They both had a total poker face - I couldn't do it at all
assess whether they think what I say is good or bad.
They were probably totally confused because I had to grin so much when I
asked the first question," I say.
"At least they didn't look at you the wrong way. I had a lecturer with a
monobrow that he furrowed so much that I actually stumbled a few times. I was so glad
when it was over." She sighs and props her chin up on one hand in displeasure. "It really
wasn't good." "But you still have another interview," I say encouragingly and give her
arm a quick
squeeze. "You can do it."
»I actually have two more. For me the economic and

Philosophy interviews not merged. You happy."
»So you have two more chances to prove yourself. That's good,
believe me." "I
was asked in my interview if I had a ballpoint pen
that rolled under the chair," Jude suddenly interrupts our
conversation.
“What?” Lin asks.
»I immediately asked myself whether this was already part of the interview, and
I started to question the question scientifically and constructed my
answer accordingly." He grins broadly. "But in the end, she really just
wanted me to pick up the pen."
Lin and I start laughing.
Then a waiter comes and takes our order. Jude says
us that it's a must to have at least one beer at Turf Tavern , so Lin and I both order
some, in addition to some finger food. While we wait for food, I tell Lin about my afternoon
and the lecture I secretly sneaked into. We also take the opportunity to ask Jude
one question after another about his seminars, his lecturers, his fellow
students and life at Oxford.
After a while, the waiter brings our drinks. It is the first time I have
had a beer in front of me. The only alcohol I have ever
The thing I drank was the sweet stuff that Wren gave me at the party. This time when we
toast, I know exactly what I'm doing. It is my decision. I drink voluntarily because it is part
of the experience. It feels grown-up and exciting to do something I've forbidden
myself for a long time.
I put the glass to my lips and take a first sip. I immediately pull a face of disgust.
"This tastes horrible," I say.
Jude and Lin laugh loudly as I look between the two with a seriously concerned
look. “Why are you drinking this willingly?”
“Is this your first beer?” asks Jude.
I nod. "And definitely my last." "You're saying
that now," Jude says, eyebrows wiggling, and Lin nods. »It's like coffee. When you're
a kid you think it's absolutely disgusting, but the older you get, the better it tastes." She
points to my mouth.
“By the way, you have a beer beard.”
Startled, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. »I like you
always liked coffee. This is licking tree bark." Lin … it tastes …
and Jude both burst out
laughing.
“I'd rather not know how you know what tree bark tastes like,” jokes Jude.
I demonstratively push the beer into the middle of the table. "Here,
help yourselves. I'm going to get a Coke.« I slide off
the bench, squeeze past two tables and
walk down the narrow hallway to the bar. It's even busier than before, apparently the
Turf Tavern is not just for students, but also a tourist attraction. It takes almost ten minutes
for the bartender to take my order and finally push the Coke across the counter to me. I
thank you with a smile and turn around.
At that moment I spot Lydia. She is frantically making her way through the crowd
towards the toilet and doesn't seem to see me.
Her cheeks are pale, and I notice her hand shaking as she raises it to push a man in
front of her out of the way. Confused, I watch her until she disappears behind the toilet
door.
She probably drank too much. It's not even eight yet. Shaking my head, I go back
to my table where Jude, Lin and a few of the others we came with are animated
entertain. I join in the conversation and sip my cola every now and then. I keep glancing
over at the place where Lydia was sitting earlier, but she still hasn't come back from
the toilet. Come to think of it, she really didn't look good. Rather the opposite.
I watch her friends carefully. James and Wren seem to be discussing something,
while Camille is almost sitting on Keshav's lap and whispering something in his ear that
makes him smile. Across from them, Alistair drinks his half-full pint in one go. His eyes
are bitter, his brows furrowed. Although he answers what Wren has just asked him, he
doesn't take his eyes off Camille and Keshav, who are flirting with each other right
in front of him. I think it's bad enough that Keshav is hiding his affair with Alistair from
his friends, but the fact that he's now messing around with a girl in front of him is
making his reputation sink to the bottom and even lower in my eyes.
None of the boys seem to notice that Lydia is not coming back. I
I hesitate for a moment, but then I apologize to Lin and get up. The alcohol level has
risen significantly in the last hour, and you can tell from the bar patrons. Their
conversations are now so loud that they almost drown out the music, and as I
push past them, very few of them willingly make room for me.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally make it to the other end of the room.
I cautiously enter the ladies' room and look around. There are several small cabins. All
doors except one are open.
There is a soft sniffling sound behind it. And then I carefully… a loud gagging sound.
knock on the door and notice that it's not locked. It opens a little, but I don't
dare push it all the way open. “Lydia?” “Please leave me alone,” she croaks.
I remember the Monday after the party when she sat down next to me during
my lunch break and apologized to me. She was nice to me, just like that. Now I have the
opportunity to return the favor. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask quietly.
Instead of answering, Lydia gags, and then I hear an unpleasant splash. I

quickly go to the sink, grab a few towels from the dispenser and wet them under the tap.
Then
I hand them to Lydia under the toilet door with a quiet clearing of the throat.
"Here." The towels
disappear from my hand.
I remain crouched, unsure of what to do. I don't want to leave Lydia alone in this
state, but I don't know how I could help her either.
The toilet flushes and shortly afterwards the door opens a crack. I
see a small part of Lydia's face. It's really unfair: despite her watery eyes and the red
spots on her cheeks, she still looks beautiful. I recognize so much of her brother in her
face.
But thoughts of James have no place in this situation.
“Should I get you some water or something?” “No,

it’s fine. I just need a few more minutes with that
the walls stop spinning." She leans back until the wall supports her back. Then she
closes her eyes and lets her head fall back.
"Have you had too much to drink?" I ask.

Lydia shakes her head almost imperceptibly. »I have nothing
drunk," she whispers.
»Are you sick?« I try again. »There must be
an emergency pharmacy somewhere. If it doesn't get better." Lydia
doesn't answer me.
"Or..." I continue hesitantly, "...is it nervousness? Are you excited about
tomorrow?" Now Lydia looks at
me again. Her expression is a mixture of amusement and sadness. "No,"
she says. "I'm not excited. I had both of my interviews today and they went really
well." "That's great," I say cautiously, but Lydia doesn't look particularly happy about
this fact. On
the contrary, new tears suddenly glisten in her eyes. "Why aren't you happy?"
She shrugs her shoulders and puts a hand on her stomach. »It is
no matter how my interviews went. I will not study here."
"Why not? Don't you want to go to Oxford?" Lydia
swallows. "Yes. Actually, yes."
"Then what's the problem? If the interviews went well, you'll definitely make it."
»I don't mean it like that. I just think I’m studying.” … can not here
I don't understand. "Why?" I ask, confused.

She does not answer. Instead, she looks down and looks at the hand on her
stomach. She begins to slowly move it over the fabric of her blouse - or rather, over what's
underneath: a small bulge.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have thought anything of it. Everyone has
one or more bulges on their stomach when they sit down. However, most people don't
stroke this bulge. And they don't look at it with such a loving expression as the one that is
currently spreading across Lydia's face.
It clicks and I take a sharp breath. »You really have nothing

drunk," I whisper.
She shakes her head slowly. A tear rolls down her cheek
"Not for months."
I think of the drink she asked James for at Cyril's party but then didn't accept. And
of course I think about that day I caught her and Mr Sutton. A lump forms in my throat.
“Is it from…” I don’t dare finish the sentence, but I don’t need to. Lydia understands
what I'm asking and nods once.
"I don't know what to say," I admit.

"Then you're like me." She rubs the moist corner of her eye.
“How far along are you?” I whisper.

Lydia gently strokes her stomach. "In the twelfth week." "Who knows about it?"
I continue to ask.
“Nobody.” “Not
even James?” She shakes
her head. "No. And it should stay that way." "Why did you tell me?"
"Because you didn't stop asking," she
says immediately. Then sighs
she. “Besides, James trusts you. And he doesn’t trust anyone else.”
I press my lips together tightly and try not to think about what that means.
“Someday, in the not-too-distant future, it won’t be so easy to hide,” I say, pointing
to her stomach.
"I know." Her words sound so broken, so sad, that I...

be overcome by a wave of compassion.
»You can talk to me if you want. Also in the next
weeks and months. If you don't have anyone, I mean." Lydia looks at me
skeptically. “Why should I?” I gently pat her arm. “I really
mean it, Lydia.
This is a big deal. I can understand if you don't want to talk to anyone about it, but…”
I look at her stomach. “You’re expecting a baby.” She follows my gaze. »It's strange
to hear that. I mean, I
know, but no one has said it out loud yet. That somehow made it seem a little less
true.”
I understand what she means. Once you say things out loud, you give
them space to unfold and become real.
“Shall I take you home?” I ask after a while.

Lydia hesitates and just looks at me silently for a few seconds.
Then she nods and gives me a cautious smile – the first of the evening. I don't know if
she really trusts me, but if not, maybe that will change in the future. I know the two biggest
secrets in her life, and I fully intend to keep them to myself. I won't betray Lydia. On the
contrary, I can imagine that she needs a friend during this difficult time.
I stand up and hold out my hand to help her up.

“You know, a few minutes ago I was puking over that
“The toilet bowl was hanging, wasn’t it?” she asks.
I wrinkle my nose. "Thanks for the reminder," I reply, but don't pull my hand back.
Smiling, Lydia chimes in.
OceanofPDF.com
28
Ruby
The interview the next day is horror. On the one hand, it's due to the fact
that I lay awake half the night pondering Lydia's situation, and on the
other hand, I can't get along with the two lecturers at all. At the beginning
they make jokes that I don't understand, and when it finally starts they are
not satisfied with my answers.
I'm asked how many people are in the room and I say it's impossible to
determine exactly. After all, I could be dreaming or the two lecturers could
only exist in my head. It's one of the tasks we went through with Pippa, but
they don't like my approach to solving it at all. The philosophy lecturer
calls it “pseudo-intellectual” and asks me to question it and find out
why it is wrong. Then he asks me for a logical answer, and I sheepishly say:
"Three." After that, I'm totally confused and think three times about every
question before I say
anything. It's a complete disaster, and when I'm done after half an
hour my head is spinning.
As if on autopilot, I politely say goodbye to the lecturers and leave the

office. Once outside, I notice how dizzy I am and I have to lean against the
wall for a moment to keep from losing my balance.
My eyes fall on the applicant whose turn it is after me.

Of course it's James.
It drives me crazy that he has this habit of showing up at all my low
points and witnessing them first hand. He is chatting to the student who
brought him here - or rather, she is chatting to him while he stares at the
tips of his shoes. Only when the lecturer closes the door behind me
does he raise his head.
He looks great. He is wearing black pants and a dark green shirt
that accentuates his shoulders and upper body. I hate that both look so
good on him. I also hate that he is dressed so formally.
and still doesn't look like a philistine. Actually, I hate everything about him.
Especially the way he broke my heart. Every time he

When I look at me, the pain that I have suppressed so successfully over the last few
weeks comes back. My heart beats in my throat, my mouth goes dry, and a sinking
feeling settles in my stomach. And then there is this miserable longing. The need
to walk up to him and take his hand in mine, just to touch him and feel his warm
skin against mine. I want to wish him good luck too, like he did me yesterday, but I just
can't bring myself to say anything to him. If I open my mouth, my voice will break. Especially
now, when I'm about to cry anyway.
Suddenly James stands up and takes a step towards me. Before

Before he can say something, I look away and walk quickly down the hallway.
The rest of the day goes like chewing gum. After the interview, I would like to go to my
room and hide under the covers, but I am intercepted by a few other applicants
who wanted to take a tour of the campus with two senior students. I saw a lot yesterday,
but since I'm not sure I'll ever get the chance to spend time at St Hilda's again after the
terrible interview, I'm joining the group. It's bittersweet to have to show me the
beautiful campus of a university that I might not even attend, but Tom and Liz put so
much effort into the tour that I decide to push the dark thoughts away for the rest of
the time to concentrate on what they are telling us.
St Hilda's was one of the first colleges in Oxford to be founded exclusively for
women. Men have only been allowed to study here for nine years. I already knew that the
college is known for its open nature, but as we walk around the campus and through
the buildings, I sense that this is not just empty talk.
The students greet each other, and even those who sit between stacks of books in the
library and look super stressed, take
Take a moment to answer our questions. The attitude to life here seems to be the
complete opposite of that at Maxton Hall College. There is no division into rich and
poor, cool and uncool, worthy and unworthy - everyone seems to be equal here.
The thought that I might actually have messed up makes something inside me
clench wistfully.
Lin texts me at lunchtime and asks how my interview went, but I can't bring myself
to answer her. Neither do my parents or Ember. I'm disappointed in myself and have to
come to terms with what happened before I can face them. I know exactly how they will
react: understanding, loving and comforting. I just can't stand this right now.
We return to the common room in the early evening. I'm really ready to hole up in
my room, but there's one last thing on the agenda - a get-together with Jude and a few
other students who have agreed to answer our questions about studying and life in
Oxford. I try with all my might to find my positive energy again, but it just doesn't work.
So I take one of the comfortable-looking wing chairs, pull my legs under me and decide
to just sit here and listen.
Little by little the room fills up. James also shows up at some point.
He comes with the student who brought him to the interview this morning and
waited with him outside the door. The two of them are talking to each other and I can't
take my eyes off him no matter how hard I try.
I never understood why it was called heartbreak, and now I understand it

even less. When I see James, it's not just my heart that hurts - everything hurts. And I
have trouble breathing.
It should be called whole body airway obstruction pain. That sounds much less
romantic and would be much more appropriate in my opinion.
I manage to tear my eyes away from him, just at the moment
in which James spots me in the wing chair. Our eyes only meet for a split second, but
my skin still starts to tingle.
I'm too frustrated and too tired to fight it.

“So, guys!” Jude begins, clapping his hands. »Are we complete? Then we can
start. There are still seats back there,” he says, gesturing vaguely in my direction. While
most of us have made ourselves comfortable on the sofas and armchairs, there are a
few free chairs with flowery seat cushions next to me. Only out of the corner of my
eye can I see James and two other boys coming towards me. I cautiously dare
to look to the side. James answers him with dark eyes.
I slide a little to the right in my chair. I don't care what he thinks of

thinks to me. I just don't want to sit too close to him. I actually don't even want to be in
the same room as him. The pain in my chest is bad enough as it is.
"You can ask us anything," explains Liz. "Studies, private life, career goals."
“Really everything?” the guy sitting to James’ left interjects.

"You can ask anything - but whether we answer is up to us." Jude winks
at him and a few people laugh quietly.
"Okay, who goes first?" asks the student who brought James here.
She is really pretty, with her black hair and dark complexion.
I think she has no make-up on, but there is still a slight glow on her cheeks. I'd like to ask
how she accomplishes this, but I'm afraid that's not the right question for this Q&A.
»How hard is studying here really? Do you even have a

Private life?" asks a girl I'm seeing for the first time.
Jude, Liz and the pretty student look at each other, and Jude gestures for Liz to answer.
»Of course, the studies are more intensive than at other universities, especially
if you live on campus and still have to settle in.
But there is enough time for private things.” A quiet
murmur goes through the room. Most seem pretty relieved by the answer.
“Here’s the next question!” demands Jude, looking around expectantly.
Short silence. Then …

“Is what everyone says true? Is studying here a joke compared to Balliol?”
I turn my head to James. He looks seriously interested

in front, where the three students sit and look back at him, perplexed.
“It’s the same course of study,” Jude begins hesitantly, his forehead slightly raised
wrinkled. »But since I study here and not there, I can't judge that. I can
only tell you what it's like at St Hilda's." "A 'yes' would have
been enough." I stare at
James, stunned. I can't believe he just said that. Even in that terrible
tone of voice that he definitely learned from his father and that triggers a
whole chain of angry reactions deep inside me.
The need to open your mouth grows by the second

Second, and my protective shields are crumbling, piece by piece.
Don't do it, don't do it, don't do …
it I ignore my reason.
“That’s so clear,” I blurt out.
James slowly turns to me. "What is clear?" "That St Hilda's
isn't good enough for you just because your father didn't study here." I try to keep
my voice calm, but I can't. Not after this day. Not when he behaves like that.
Something like pain flickers in James' eyes. "That's not true," he

says.
This lie breaks the anger that I have had with everyone over the last few weeks
Power that I held back came out of me like a storm. I can't hold them back
for a second longer and the words just pour out of me, loud and unfiltered.
"What is wrong? That St Hilda's isn't good enough for you, just like I'm not
good enough for you, because your parents want something else for you?
That you always do what they want instead of just thinking about what you
want from life? You’re such a coward!”
Suddenly, the common room is eerily quiet. My breathing is heavy, my

chest is rising and falling rapidly, and I feel a dangerous tingling sensation
behind my eyes.
Oh no. No.
I am not going to start crying in front of all these people, and
embarrass myself even more than I already did.
I stand up abruptly and leave the room without another word.

I run down the hallway and make it to the stairs when I hear equally fast footsteps
behind me. I take the stairs two at a time until I reach the top and turn into the hallway.
James is right behind me. He overtakes me and stops in front of me so I have to stop.
"That's not true," he repeats breathlessly. His cheeks are flushed, his hair disheveled.
Whenever I see him, I feel as if my body is connected to his in some irrational way. The
need to touch him grows the closer he gets to me, no matter how angry I am with him.
That can't be true. How can I still want him when he hurts me so much?
"What's wrong?" I can hardly get the words out because so many feelings are
building up inside me.
The pain in his eyes catches me completely off guard. "That you're not good enough
for me." I stare at him, perplexed, for
a moment. Then I clench my hands
into fists so tight that my nails dig into my skin. "What fucking nonsense," I hiss.
He takes another step towards me. “Ruby…” “No!” I interrupt

him. »You can't do that to me. You
You can't break up with me and humiliate me in front of all your friends just to stroke my
wrist and whisper 'good luck' to me. You've made it abundantly clear to me that you
don't want me in your oh-so-great life." I..."
"That was not …

First he runs after me, and now he can't get anything coherent
Sentence out. I want to grab him by both shoulders and shake him. “That wasn’t
you?” My voice drips with mockery.
»I'm sorry for how I behaved. I'm so sorry, Ruby.
But I just can't. It doesn’t
… work.” I throw my arms up.
“Then why the hell are you here?
Why are you even talking to me?" "Because
I..." He interrupts himself again. He furrows his eyebrows as if he doesn't know
the answer himself. Then he opens his mouth and closes it again. It looks like he's stopping
himself from saying 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.
I don't think you know anything at all." His cheeks turn even
redder. Now his posture is a mirror image
from mine – stiff shoulders, clenched fists. I've never seen him like that before. He
takes an angry step towards me and I feel the heat radiating from him.
"I know exactly what I want." The stammering has disappeared, instead he suddenly
sounds determined.
»Then why don't you take it?« »Because my
will never mattered.« The last bit of my self-control is hanging
by a thread.
hung, which he finally severed with his words.
»For me, yes! Your will has always played a role for me !”
I scream and hit his chest with both hands.
James reacts quickly and grabs my wrists. He holds my hands firmly on his chest.
We breathe. Fast and jerky. I can feel his pounding heartbeat beneath my
fingers. His heart beats so fast.
Because of me. Because of what is between us, what has been growing between us for
months.
We move at the same time, James grabs me and I jump
towards him. Our mouths meet. I angrily run my hands into his hair, tugging, and he
grabs my thighs and digs his fingers hard into my skin. I bite his lower lip because I'm so
angry. He groans deeply and lets one hand slide to my ass. With the other he runs up
my back and places it on my neck. All the weeks in which I have ignored him with all my
might and fought against my feelings come crashing down on me like a tornado.
Our kiss is a continuation of the argument, a fight that brings out the anger in
transformed me into something else and elicited a sound from me that I had never
made before. A desperate moan that almost sounds like a sob. I run my tongue
over his lower lip and enjoy the taste of him.
The next moment, James grabs my neck and kisses me deeply and passionately.
Now his kiss suddenly feels like an apology.
I can feel from his trembling fingers how long he has wanted to do this and how much
strength it must have cost him to do it himself.
He kisses me like he wants to drown in me, it's a mixture of desire, desperation,

hatred and all the feelings in between and it's driving me crazy, but at the same
time I haven't felt this alive in weeks. I don't understand how that's possible. I don't
understand how someone you actually want to hate can do something like that to you.
James grabs me by the waist, lifts me up, and staggers down the hall with me in his
arms, all without us ever once separating our lips. I slam my back against James'
bedroom door and inhale sharply. I angrily scratch the back of his neck.
James moans into my mouth and pushes against me, his hard body the only thing
keeping me from falling to the floor. His hand moves from my waist across my thigh,
then disappears and I can immediately hear the jingle of keys. The next moment he
holds me tighter again and the door behind me opens. James carries me over the
threshold and kicks the door shut. I only notice the bang casually. Nothing seems
relevant anymore, in this moment there is only him and me and the feelings that guide
us.
This time, no one will interrupt us. No one will ruin what is between us.
Only the two of us have the power to decide what happens next.
My movements become gentler, but no less passionate.
In a few steps we are at the bed and James collapses onto it.
He puts an arm under my back to cushion the impact and at the same time pushes
himself against me, so perfectly that I moan and wrap my legs around his hips.
His mouth moves tenderly over every millimeter of my face. He

kisses my cheeks and the corners of my mouth. The tip of my nose. His lips slide
over my jaw. I hold on to his shoulders and close my eyes. Stars explode behind my
eyelids as he sucks on my neck and presses his lips to the spot where my pulse is
beating faster and faster.
»Ruby ..." He whispers my name, just like he did that night over a month ago
when we kissed on the school steps. The memory hits me suddenly and violently,
and with it the despair and the pain. I can feel the burning behind my
Don't hold back your eyes. Hot tears form in my eyes and run down my face.
James freezes. He leans away from me and looks at me from under

heavy eyelids. With his dilated pupils and red cheeks, he looks like he's on drugs. He
gently strokes my face and continues to whisper my name.
I cover my face with one arm so he can't see my tears, but James takes my hand and
carefully lifts it up. He intertwines our fingers and places them on the bed next to my head.
With his other hand, he brushes a stray strand of hair from my forehead. Then he slowly runs
his index finger over the sensitive skin under my eyes to wipe away the wetness.
"I'm sorry," he whispers on my temple and presses a kiss

on my hairline.
He doesn't stop caressing my face. It's as if his arms form a protective space just for
the two of us. When I look up, I see how swollen his lower lip is. You can clearly see where I
bit, and I feel guilty. I gently stroke the red skin and James closes his eyes. I touch his jaw,
run my finger over his furrowed eyebrows and trace the few freckles on his cheek. Now in
winter, they have become so pale that you can only see them up close.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers, and it sounds like his

Voice breaking at any moment.
“That’s not enough for me,” I reply just as quietly.
He leans forward and presses his hot forehead against mine.
"Me neither." We stay
like that for a while. His weight on me feels so good, and I wrap my arms around his
back, dig my fingers into his shirt, and just hold on to him. I can feel his heartbeat, as fast and
uneven as my own, and I enjoy the all-encompassing feeling of being so close to him.
But none of that changes the things that happened between us. Because of what he
said to me and how he treated me. I can't forget that. Not if I don't have more of him
get as a whispered apology. I want an explanation and I think I deserve it.
"It can't go on like this, James." He smiles. The

corners of his mouth only move upwards slightly,
but I can still see it clearly. Also, the tension in his body is easing. The furrows on
his forehead are smoothing out and everything about him seems to be getting softer.
“What’s there to smile about?” He

pulls back a little and looks at me. His look is hopeful. “You haven't said my
name in ages.
Feels good.” Shaking
my head, I take his face in my hands, lean forward and kiss him carefully. It feels
like a dream that I can just do this when I was so sure I would never get the chance
again. His mouth is the perfect shape to fit mine. It feels right, like a puzzle piece being
placed in the right place. James' hand moves from my face to my neck and shoulder. A
hot tingle travels down my spine as he strokes my side and finally grasps my waist. His
body trembles over mine. I want to pick up right where we left off, but I can't do
that without knowing where we stand.
James seems to sense this and carefully separates himself from me. "On the sports
field... that's where I told you that you can't lose anything that doesn't belong to you." The
memory of his
words gives me a pang. I want to look away, but I can't. Too many of the
emotions I'm feeling at this moment are reflected in James' eyes.
"That was a lie. I've been yours since you gave me my money
“You threw your head, Ruby Bell.”
OceanofPDF.com
29
James
Her eyes widen at my words. I roll off her and pull her with me so we can both lie on
our sides and look at each other. I keep my hand on her waist, caressing her there. I
would like to touch her everywhere, immediately, forever. I missed her so much it almost
killed me, and now it feels like I have air in my lungs for the first time in weeks.
But I have to do this right. I will not risk Ruby

to lose her just because I can't bring myself to tell her what's wrong with me. Why I am
the way I am and why I make decisions that hurt us both so much. It's hard to find the
right words, especially because the fear that she won't forgive me is choking me. I
don't know what I would do then.
Ruby looks at me calmly, waiting. Her hair is messy and her cheeks and lips are
red. She's so beautiful that I have to look away and stare at my hand on her waist when I
finally clear my throat.
"I told you that I'm going to join the company after I graduate. And it's important
…
to my parents that I have a woman by my side. For them, that's part of it. They'd like to
get me engaged to someone now so that nothing can go wrong." Ruby makes an
indefinable sound and when I look up, she wrinkles her nose. It's good to know
that she doesn't like
the idea - because I can't imagine what I would do if Ruby's parents set her up
with someone who isn't me.
»You were very special to me from the beginning. I have changed. I didn't even
notice it myself, but my friends and family did. I had to listen to questions for weeks about
what was wrong with me, why my mind was always somewhere else and
so on. When my father saw us together in the tailor shop, he had a hunch. And when he
caught us on Halloween…” I swallow hard. “He was sure of it.” “Is that why you had a
split lip? Did he beat you?",
she asks, carefully lifting her fingers to my mouth. The spot where she bit me still
throbs - but not in a bad way.
"Yes," I say quietly. I've never spoken to anyone about my father. Not even to
Lydia, who knows a lot but not everything. I'm sure my friends know what's going on at
home, but they've never asked me about it when I show up with a black eye or a split lip.
It's as if we decided together at some point that this topic doesn't exist and we all stick to
it. That suits me very well.
"Does he hit you often, James?" Ruby whispers.

I can't answer her, especially when she looks at me with so much compassion in her
eyes. It's not about that at all.
All I want is to explain to her why I behaved so horribly towards her - something that is
still 100 percent my own fault, no matter how overwhelming my situation may be.
“That’s not important,” I reply belatedly. My voice has taken on a rough tone and I
have to clear my throat again. »Anyway, my parents saw a danger in you. They realized
how important you are to me. Much more important than this goddamn company.”
Something in Ruby's gaze changes. It becomes so intense and haunting that I

feel like she can see into my soul. There is no way to hide from her - and in that moment I
realize that I don't want to. My parents were right to be worried. Ruby is dangerous to
them and everything they have imagined for me and my future.
I can't believe I'm only realizing this now.

I'm in love with Ruby Jemima Bell.
The way I feel for her is all-encompassing and overwhelming and won't go away no
matter how hard I try to ignore it - I've noticed that clearly over the last few weeks. Ruby
got into mine
Life, turned everything upside down and deserves a place in the chaos she has
created.
I don’t care who I have to face, and I don’t care if
my father kicks me out for it. Lydia once asked me if Ruby was worth the stress. I let my
surroundings influence me and I believed she wasn't. It was the stupidest
decision I ever made and I hate myself for pushing Ruby away like that. I know I
can't take it back, but I have to at least try.
»You're right - I really don't know what I want out of life. Me

was always predetermined what I should and should not do. Sometimes it feels like
I'm an extra in a script that was written for me and that I'm not allowed to change."
Ruby hums quietly.
"After my father caught us, he freaked out. He doesn't want me spending time
with someone who doesn't fit what he imagined for me." She flinches slightly at my
words, and immediately
I take her hand in mine and hold it tight.

»I thought about what it would be like for us in the future and just saw all the
problems. My parents are dictators when it comes to their children's lives. And you that you
are preparing for a successful career. I couldn't … you told me back then
stand the idea of my father standing in your way just because he didn't like you
being with his son. I became afraid because I knew there was nothing I could do. I
could never protect you from him.”
My heart is beating in my throat. I know I sound like a pathetic idiot, but I want to
be honest with her at all costs.
»You will conquer the world, Ruby. And you should be with someone who
supports you on your journey and whose family welcomes you with open arms. But I
can't offer you that. I have nothing to offer you except a bunch of problems I don’t know
how to solve.”
Ruby looks at me silently and I don't dare breathe. I expect her to get up and walk
out of the room without comment.
I deserve it, I know that. But Ruby makes no move to me
to leave. Instead, she leans forward and presses her lips to mine.
I'm so stunned that I don't return the kiss at all.

"Oh, James," she murmurs. She frees her hand from mine and lets
it travels up my chest until it rests on my heart.
… idiot." Okay, I wasn't expecting
"You stupid
that.
»Why are you worrying about the future when we are
have?” she asks quietly.
»Because you deserve better. My future is
destined to go to shit. Not yours.” She cups my
cheeks tightly. “That’s not true,” she whispers urgently. »You have as many
options as anyone else. You just have to take it, James.”
I love it when she says my name. Her voice is soft around the letters and I want to
close my eyes and ask her to say it again.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" she asks, shaking her head.
"Instead of pushing me away from you without an explanation."
In her eyes I can see the pain I'm giving her with mine
behavior must have prepared. I place my hand over hers and intertwine our
fingers on my chest. "I'm so sorry, Ruby. I really thought we'd be better off without each
other." "It didn't feel better ," she whispers hoarsely. "You just
ignored me and gave me the worst rejection in human history." "I know. God,
Ruby. I'm so sorry." I close my eyes. I don't know what I'll do if
she doesn't forgive me. When she
decides that the stress I have brought into her
life is too much for her. If I can never be as close to her as I am now.
I hold her hand tightly, pressing it against my heart, which is beating like crazy,
and I can't bring myself to look at her.
"James," Ruby says. She starts to pull her hand away and I want to hold on
to it, but I know I have no right to do so. If Ruby wants to go, I have to let her go. But
then I feel
I put her fingers in my hair. She gently strokes my head, again and again.
I don't know how long we'll be lying there like this, but I don't dare move for fear of
ruining the moment. Being so close to Ruby is the best feeling in the world. I'd give up
anything for that. I don't know why it took me so long to realize that.
»James,« Ruby murmurs again after a long while. She kisses

my temple. "It's okay. I forgive you."
I take a deep breath to mutter another apology, but freeze as the meaning of her
words sinks in. I open my eyes.
Ruby has leaned back a little and is looking at me with a steady gaze.
“What?” I ask in a rough voice.
"It's okay. I forgive you," she repeats slowly, stroking my chest. "That doesn't mean
I'll forget how you behaved. If you do something like that again..." She shrugs vaguely.
When I realize what she just said and see her cautious smile, I'm almost overwhelmed by
the relief I feel. I wrap my arms around her, pull her against my body and murmur
breathlessly against her lips, "I won't. I won't, I promise." Then I kiss her.
I try to show her how grateful I am and share with her all
to share the feelings that rage within me. Ruby rolls on top of me and I hold her tight.
She teases me with her tongue, running it over my still throbbing bottom lip. A growl comes
from deep in my chest and I suck on her tongue, eliciting a gasp from her.
I have no idea how we got here, but in this

For a second I feel like I'm flying, not falling. Ruby forgives me. She forgives me
and wants to stay in my life.
The next moment she removes her mouth from me and begins to unbutton my
shirt.
"What are you doing?" I ask roughly.
»Take off your
clothes.« She continues until the last button is undone and she has a clear view
of my naked upper body. She bites her lower lip and touches my stomach, first hesitantly,
then a little more boldly.
The way she devours my body makes me grateful for the many extra hours of training
I've done in the last month.
I inhale sharply as Ruby leans forward and kisses a trail across my stomach. Then I
can suddenly feel her tongue on my groin and I raise myself up on both elbows. "What are
you doing?" She looks up at me through half-closed eyelids. "Isn't that what couples
do when they reconcile?"
»Are we?« »Well, you

certainly won't be my bonus friend. I don't want that.« I grin. »Bonus friend?« »You know
what I
mean.« »How can a person have
such a high IQ as you and then be
completely
"Seriously say a word like 'bonus friend'?" I mutter in amusement, receiving a punch in
the pit of my stomach that makes me groan painfully. "I liked it better when you
used your tongue." Another stroke and she comes back up to me until her face is only
a
hand's width from mine. “Do you really think you should be so cheeky again?”
I feel like my chest will be taken away from me at any moment

throbbing hearts exploded. Ruby is straddling me, her upper body is pressed
against mine and the buttons of her blouse are lightly scratching my skin. My hard-on
presses almost painfully against the fabric of my pants, and I close my eyes briefly as
Ruby moves her hips.
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
"I am everything you want," I croak, meaning every word.
"Friend, bonus friend, anything." I don't care what my parents say or what will happen in
the future. Ruby is right – we have now. And I can't deny for a second longer how I feel
about Ruby.
"Really everything?" she whispers.
»Everything,« I repeat, running my hands up her thighs. Something
lights up in Ruby's moss-green eyes. When I stroke the inside of her thighs with my
thumbs, she gasps audibly. A triumphant smile creeps onto my
lips. She's damn sensitive. I repeat the touch, this time even higher up. Ruby
closes her eyes. She looks beautiful with her wavy hair, dark long eyelashes and her cute
blouse with a bow at the collar. I would like to pull the black ribbon, but I don't dare.
If we really take this to the next level, then she should take the next step.
As if she had read my thoughts, Ruby leans forward until her mouth is close to
my ear. The next moment she runs her lips down the shell of my ear and takes my
earlobe between her teeth. My body reacts violently to her: I get goosebumps all
over my body and I'm almost dizzy with excitement. She continues to tease me, leaving
a trail of kisses down my neck and sucking on the crook of my neck.
I let out a quiet curse.

Ruby pulls away from me and looks at me seriously. "Don't you like that?" "Yes." My
voice sounds rough and scratchy with desire. "Yes, I like it." I wanted to give her time
and not rush
her, I wanted to be patient and behave like a gentleman, but I want to show her
what she does to me. With shaking hands I cup her … I can't anymore. I
face and press my lips to hers. Ruby moans in surprise as I roll over and pin her
underneath me. The moment I press my hard-on against her, she gasps into my mouth
and claws at my back. If she's like this now, I can't wait to be inside her.
The next second she pulls the shirt off my arms until it
falls to the floor next to the bed. Her hands wander over my back, hesitantly at first, then
she scratches lightly with her nails along my spine until she reaches my bottom
and squeezes it firmly.
"Damn it, Ruby," I growl.

“I've wanted to do that for so long,” she replies and adds
smack him. I let out a breathless laugh against her neck and bite her lightly in
punishment. She responds by wrapping both legs around my waist and pressing
herself tighter against me. Good God, she's going to kill me.
I lean back a little and then take the ribbon of the bow
on her collar between her fingers. I look into her eyes as I slowly pull it open. Ruby
swallows hard and watches as if hypnotized as I then open the buttons. She sits up so I
can slip the material off her shoulders. I don't know where to throw the blouse because
I only have eyes for Ruby. The light from the lantern outside casts a few bright streaks on
her skin and the skin-colored bra she's wearing. Ruby has a beautiful body, curvy
and soft, with a voluptuous bust. At school you can tell Ruby knows exactly what she
wants - the fact that it seems to be the same in bed makes my throat go dry.
I lean in and place a series of kisses on hers

Cleavage. I cup her breasts and caress them, which elicits a surprised gasp
from Ruby. I would love to rip the rest of her clothes off her body and sink into her, but
I hold back.
This is our first time. I want us both to have each other for years to come
remember later how beautiful it was.
So I take my time as I explore her upper body. I take every bit of skin
between my lips and teeth, licking her breasts and gripping them tighter. I
move further down and run my teeth over her ribcage. Her soft gasps
and the way she tenses are like instructions for her body. When I reach
the waistband of her pants, she buries her fingers in my hair. I look up at
her questioningly. She has me in her hands, she alone decides what
happens next.
“Go on,” she whispers, barely audible.

I do not need more.
First I take off her shoes, then her socks. Ruby watches me,
a slight smile on her lips. Finally, I unzip her pants and help her slide them
off her legs. Then she lies in front of me in her underwear and I
hold my breath. I don't know what I did to deserve this. No idea. Maybe
that's what people keep calling karma. According to the motto: Hey,
everything in your life is going to shit?
Here, in return you get the most amazing girl in the world. She forgives you
and likes you and lets you undress her even though you don't deserve it.
Or so.
No matter what the reason is for Ruby allowing me to do this -

I will show her how much I appreciate her.
I lean forward and kiss a trail up her legs. Now there is no more thinking, only
feeling. I move both hands to Ruby's hips. I gently caress her sides, sliding my hand over
her stomach and to the waistband of her panties. Ruby's breathing becomes faster and
heavier.
Carry on, her words echo in my head.

I will continue. I hook my fingers under her panties and pull them
down. She's lying naked in front of me and I can't think straight anymore.
I don't hesitate for a second and start to trace a teasing trail down her
groin. When I press my mouth to her middle, Ruby curses loudly. She buries
her hands in my hair again and for a moment I don't know if she
wants me to pull away or closer. I move my mouth, pressing a kiss
to her heat. When I dart my tongue out, she squirms and I put a hand
on her stomach to hold her in place. I enjoy the way she
scratches her fingers over my scalp, showing me where she wants me
and with what intensity. As her breathing quickens and her legs
stiffen, I slide a finger into her wet heat. I suck on her and move my
finger slowly and evenly. It's not long before Ruby is calling my name and
arching beneath me.
I continue to lick and kiss her until the tremors running through her
body subside. She is completely breathless when I finally pull away from
her and slide up the bed to look at her. Her hair is disheveled and her
cheeks are flushed. She stares at the ceiling and it takes a few minutes for
her breathing to return to normal.
Then she puts her arms around my neck and grins at me.
"You definitely have to do that again," she says.
I return her grin and at the same moment resolve to spend a whole
night with my head between Ruby's legs.
»Your cheeky mouth will come in very handy down there.«

I look at her, shaking my head, and then press a light kiss to
her lips. Ruby does not allow the kiss to remain superficial. On the
contrary, she pulls me closer to her and penetrates my
Mouth. I'm surprised by the stormy way she kisses me.

Apparently she likes tasting herself on my lips. She wraps a leg around me and presses
herself against me. A hot tingle shoots through my body and I moan into her mouth and
thrust my hips forward, eliciting a soft "Oh" from Ruby. The next moment her hands are
on my belt. Her movements are uncoordinated and driven by lust. I like it so much to
see her like this.
After she unzips my pants, she tries to push them down, but I stop her. "Wait," I mutter,
pulling my wallet out of my back pocket. I open it and take out the condom that's inside. I
put it next to the pillow and then take off my pants and socks. I drop everything next
to the bed, and right after that I'm back on top of Ruby. I slide my hand under her back
and open the clasp of her bra. I help her take it off, and then there's not a single millimeter
of fabric between us. Ruby moans softly as I cup her breast with one hand and start to
caress it.
I love the way Ruby reacts to my every touch. I've never been with a girl like her
before. Her reactions make me so horny I can hardly stand it. When she reaches under
the fabric of my boxers and slides them over my ass, it almost drives me crazy.
“How do you want me?” I whisper and kiss my way back up to her face. I push her hair
back from her forehead and run my fingers along her jaw. I want to show her how much
she means to me with every touch.
"Exactly," Ruby whispers back and strokes my back tenderly. I nod and reach
for the plastic wrap. My hands shake as I roll the condom over myself. Ruby raises herself
up on both elbows and watches my every move with sparkling curiosity in her eyes.
Without further ado, I grab her hand and put it around my shaft. It twitches in her hand
and Ruby looks at me with dark eyes.
I carefully move our hands up and down, squeezing. She swallows hard. I let go of her hand
and she starts to move it on her own, hesitantly at first, then more confidently. When she
squeezes in just the right place, I gasp.
"Ruby..." I whisper.
The next moment she lets go of me and lies down again.
Her dark hair is spread out like a fan on the white pillow, her green
eyes sparkling like in a dream as I cover her body with mine and take the space between
her legs. It happens almost by itself, I slide the tip into her and hold my breath
while Ruby sighs beneath me. She is incredibly tight, but wet enough that I dare to push
forward carefully. I touch her cheek, stroke her lower lip with my thumb before pressing
my mouth to hers. I kiss her slowly and full of feeling as I pull out of her a little and then
penetrate her further with a gentle thrust. At that very moment Ruby changes the angle of
her hips - and the resistance subsides. I sink into her to the base and we both
moan. A thought wants to force its way to the surface of my consciousness, which is
overlaid with feelings, but I can't really grasp it. There is no more room in my head.
It's full of Ruby, her taste and her heat surrounding me. I thrust again and Ruby lets out a
breathless gasp. She wraps a leg around my waist and I grasp her thigh.
It feels so perfect that I wish we had done this sooner instead of letting obstacles
get in the way. I dig my fingers into her thigh, holding it in place as I try to find a somewhat
steady rhythm. Ruby's hands are all over me, leaning forward and kissing my breast,
pushing herself into me with each thrust as if she can't get enough of me. I feel exactly
the same. She feels so good that it's damn hard not to lose control of my movements.
“You’re shaking,” she whispers, stroking my back all the way up. She holds onto
my shoulders as I suck on the spot behind her ear and slowly thrust into her.
"Because I have to control myself." "Is

that the James Beaufort who destroys waterbeds during sex?" she asks
breathlessly.
I bite her neck. "I told you it wasn't a waterbed."
Ruby ignores what I say and wraps her second leg around me too.
She moves her hips so I slide deeper into her. I groan and my body follows
her indirect request almost of its own accord. I wrap a hand around Ruby's
neck and hold her tight so she doesn't hit her head against the bed. Then I
penetrate her, harder and faster than before. Ruby scratches my back
and with every touch she makes me gradually lose control. It doesn't take
long before the headboard slams against the wall and I can no longer
suppress the sounds that come from deep in my chest.
Ruby's breathing becomes faster and faster, her nails dig into my skin.
Her eyes are closed, but I really need to see what's happening to her.
“Look at me,” I gasp.

She obeys my wish and our eyes meet. The connection between us is
more intense than ever before. I can't look away anymore, and Ruby seems
to feel the same way. We move in unison, as if we were made for exactly
this purpose. I thrust into her, over and over again, until I hit a spot inside
her that made her moan loudly. Her muscles tighten around me and
suddenly it's too much. The bed doesn't squeak loud enough to
drown out our sounds as we climax together.
My world explodes, leaving a universe of colorful stars and lights with only
room for Ruby.
OceanofPDF.com
30
Ruby
“You should have told me beforehand.” James runs a finger down my spine and I
shudder.
“Why?” I lie
with my head on his chest and absentmindedly stroke his hard stomach. Our legs are
entwined and we are still naked, although James has spread the blanket over us.
»Because then I would have been gentler,« he murmurs and presses his
Lips on my hairline.
"I think it would have scared you off and you would have run away." "I
wouldn't have. I
would have just been more careful." I tilt my head back and look at his
face. A frown has formed between his brows - he looks genuinely concerned
"But I didn't mean it gently and carefully." One corner of

his mouth lifts slightly and a dark sparkle appears in his eyes. It disappears as
quickly as it came.
"Maybe I should have considered a change of location. You shouldn't lose your virginity
in a dorm room with a squeaky bed."
I sit up indignantly. For a split second, James's gaze lands on my breasts, but
then he immediately looks back at my face. "Hello? If I'm going to lose my virginity
anywhere, it's probably going to be in Oxford." He shakes his head, smiling. The next
moment he embraces
mine
elbow and pulls me forward until I fall on top of him. He wraps his arms around me and
presses me tightly to his warm body. "You're crazy, Ruby Bell." Maybe a little, I think
he's right.
But it all felt right. James and I - maybe it will never be easy for us, and maybe James'
father will continue to do everything he can to get me out of his son's life, but I am ready to
fight for James. What is between us is something special. I know that since today, and in
the way he looks at me and touches me, I sense that he feels the same. We will make
it. I have never been so sure of anything.
“How was it for you?” I ask after a while without looking him in the eyes.
»Hm?«
I concentrate on the pattern I am drawing on his stomach. How was your first time?« He
"I mean … lets out an audible breath and
his stomach sinks under
my hand. "Do you really want to know?"
Now I look at him. "Sure." "It was okay. I was
fourteen, drunk, and I screwed up pretty badly." "Fourteen?" Oh God, then he's
had over
four years of practice.
I'd rather not think about how many girls he's slept with to be so good at it.
"Wren and I made a bet, so I did it. It lasted about two minutes and didn't feel
good."
“Then you're probably not the person to give advice to someone
successful defloration," I say quietly.
"If you ever tell your story, I hope this comes across better." I press a kiss to his chest.
"Absolutely. It was perfect." I don't
understand why, but it feels completely normal to be lying here with him. As if
I belong
here. I haven't felt this good in weeks, and even the slightly painful throbbing between
my legs doesn't bother me. I meant what I said: It was perfect. And I couldn't have imagined a
better place or moment for it.
“You seemed totally distraught this morning,” James says suddenly,

immediately putting a damper on my mood.
“The interview went really badly,” I mumble.
His mouth moves over my hairline again and brushes my forehead. "The two
lecturers were idiots. I think that's their way of deliberately unsettling applicants. You must
have been great." He says this with such certainty that I almost believe it myself. But only
almost.
»Really not. I answered one question completely wrong.
I could clearly tell that they didn't like what I said." "To what extent?" I tell him about the
debacle
that morning.
»Like I said, I'm sure this is her scam. Don; t worry so much. If you don't make
it to Oxford, no one will." He sounds more confident than I feel, but it's good to even
talk to someone about it. Especially because James knows how much Oxford means to
me.
»Thank you for saying that.« In

response, he kisses me on the mouth. It takes effort not to lose myself in him, but
at some point I pull my head back and ask him: »How did it go for you?« He lets out a
grunt that is difficult to interpret and suddenly
that look on his face that always appears when the conversation turns to Beaufort,
Oxford or his future. He looks hopeless. And it hurts my heart.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.

James returns my glare darkly. Finally he caves in and takes a deep breath. "I know
Oxford is the most important thing to you, so it's hard for me to talk to you about it, but the
circus here is so stupid." … I find this one
I try not to let it affect me. Not everyone has the same dreams and goals.
The fact that James feels this way has nothing to do with me, it's all about him.
»When I was in this interview earlier … It all just passed me by. Like
in a black and white film that you fast forward and in which I'm the only one who doesn't
move."
»If you really don't study here or at your parents' company
want to get in - what would you rather do?' He shakes his head
and I see panic in his eyes. 'Please don't ask me that.'
“Why not?” I stroke his cheek and feel how rough the skin is there. There's some
stubble coming up that I'm sure he'll shave off tomorrow morning. James certainly looks
great with a beard shadow.
»You were right when you said that I don't know what I want out of life. I don't
worry about what I might do, because if I allow myself to dream, it will only become
more depressing afterwards." He still thinks that he has no chance to decide for
himself,
what his life should look like. But how could he, when such an inheritance awaits him
and lies like a huge burden on his shoulders?
“Dreams are important, James,” I whisper.
»Then you are my dream.« For a
moment I am left breathless, but I quickly realise that this is just a lazy attempt on
his part to avoid having to react to what I have said. »Unfortunately, it doesn't work like
that.« He smiles at me crookedly. »It would have been too easy.« »What do you
like? What are you passionate about?« He has to think about that for a
moment. I sense that he is
is tense for a moment and kiss his chest as if to tell him it's okay and to take his time.
“I like sports,” he finally begins hesitantly. »And literature.

Art. Good music. Oh, and spicy food. Spicy Asian food, to be exact. I would like to travel
to Bangkok and try all sorts of things at the street markets there.”
I grin against his skin. “Something like fried grasshoppers?” “Exactly that.”
Slowly the tension eases again.
»That all sounds like it's within the realm of possibility.« »These are things
you do when you're on vacation, not something you could consider a life goal.«
I stroke his stomach in gentle circles. »It's a start.
You can do all this if you stop getting in your own way.” James doesn't say anything.
An idea comes to me. Without further ado, I stand up and look for my
underwear on the floor. I find everything in the immediate vicinity of the bed and first
slip into my panties, then into my bra. I discover a
James' gray shirt on the chair at the desk. I put it on and then look around the desk.
»What are you doing?« James asks from behind me. I grab his black notebook
with the curved B and a ballpoint pen before turning to him. He has also put his boxer shorts
back on.
attracted.
"We're making a list now," I answer and climb back into bed with the notebook.
James looks at me questioningly. I pat the spot next to me. The bed is still warm
and James's scent surrounds me. Slowly, with a suspicious look, he comes to me. The
mattress sinks under his weight as he sits down.
I lean over him and switch on the bedside lamp next to him
bed on. Then I open his notebook on my lap.
»Whenever I feel bad, I make lists. Even as a child, that helped me stay motivated and
keep a clear head.
Even when things aren't going so well right now," I explain. "I look for inspirational
quotes or write down things that I really want to do or change in the world later on or
something like that." I hold up the pen.
"Normally I make things a little more colorful, but this one will have to do it." The mistrust
disappears from his eyes
and he starts
grin. "You want to make a list like that for me?" I nod. "Maybe it will
motivate you too." He looks at the blank page of his notebook
and finally nods.
“Okay.” I
grin and put the pen to use. Then I write To-Do in squiggly letters at the top center.
I underline the heading with a wavy line. Then I write 1. Travel to Bangkok.
I look at James expectantly. "What should go next?"

He rubs his chin thoughtfully.
“It could be anything,” I remind him.
“I want to keep playing lacrosse,” he finally says quietly.
“Oh yeah,” I murmur, jotting down the second item on the list.
Right next to it, I draw a small lacrosse stick and James' number 17 jersey. When I look up
again, his gaze is so warm that it makes my stomach tingle.
“So what’s next?” He takes a moment to

think again. I don't want him
push, so I wait patiently.
“I want to read more,” he says. “Even outside of my usual genre.” “What do you
usually
read?” “Technical books that my father gives
me. Biographies of successful ones
Entrepreneurs." He frowns. "But there's so much more.
For example, I would like to try my hand at manga." He smiles meaningfully at me.
"I could put together a list of recommendations for you," I say, returning his smile.
“I would devour everything on it in a heartbeat.” Grinning,

I lean over the list and write down 3. More and
read more diversely. »What else?«
James swallows hard. »Of course I would like to do something professionally,
what fills me. I don’t know what that could be or if it’s even possible, but…” He shrugs.
It seems like he wants to say more but doesn't allow himself to. I put the pen down and cup
his cheek. I gently stroke his warm skin with my thumb and finally lean in to kiss him. He closes
his eyes and sighs quietly.
"Anything is possible, James," I whisper and lean back again.

I take the pen and write 4. Finding professional fulfillment. Then I look thoughtfully at my
work.
“One point is still missing,” James says suddenly, reaching for it
Notebook. He takes the pen from me and writes something down.
"Done," he murmurs, holding the book in front of him. I slide close to him until my
bare thigh touches his and read what he added.
5. Ruby I
hold my breath and look between the list and James.
"When you're with me, I feel like I can do anything," he says roughly. "That's why
you definitely belong on a list that's there to make me happy."
I don't know what to say. So I just climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around
his neck. He puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses me. We sink into the
pillows together, our mouths fused and his dreams in our hands.
OceanofPDF.com
31
James
Unfortunately, by far the best night of my life ends at some point. Ruby and I tried to push
through, but fell asleep around four in the morning, only to wake up three hours later thinking
we'd overslept and Ruby's parents might be waiting outside the door. Luckily it was a
false alarm, but we don't have much time left.
I find it incredibly difficult to let Ruby go to her room. I don't want to say goodbye to her, I
keep pulling her close and kissing her like I won't see her again for at least a month.
We'll meet again at school tomorrow at the latest and maybe even tonight if I manage to get
away from home. The chances are actually quite good: being invited to St Hilda's was an insult
to my father. He even suggested that Lydia and I swap places because, unlike me, she
received an invitation from Balliol. Words like “disgrace” and “good-for-nothing” are still buzzing
around in my head. I don't think he cares how my conversations went.
Percy picks me up in the early morning. He takes the suitcase from me and puts it in the
trunk of the Rolls-Royce before he gets back in and we pick up Lydia. The partition is raised
and the loudspeaker is turned off; he doesn't seem to want to talk to me. That suits me quite
well because I can look at Ruby's list again. I don't know how realistic what it says really is,
but at least it will always remind me of last night.
I've put on the grey shirt that Ruby was wearing until this morning, and her scent
is still on me. I feel like I can still taste her on my tongue, and I get goosebumps when I
think about the way she moaned my name. I really want to do that again. Preferably right now.
When Lydia gets into the car with me, she can immediately see that
something has changed. With narrowed eyes she looks down at me and back up into
my face. Then a knowing grin spreads across her face. "You look like you had a great
night." She knows me too well.
I fold the list up again and put it back in my

Wallet. It replaces the fuck-you card that I ripped up and threw away in the dorm.
“Will I get details?” The

question surprises me. Even though Lydia recently confided in me about Mr. Sutton,
we're not exactly open about our love lives.
I look at her skeptically. "Since when do you care what I do at night?" She shrugs.
"Since
Ruby is the one you're making out with." The word "making out" seems completely
inadequate to describe what's going on between Ruby and me. "First of all, who
says it was Ruby I spent the night with? And secondly, I thought you didn't like her." Lydia
rolls her eyes. "First of all, I'm not stupid. And secondly,
I like them if you like them. Very easy."

"That's good. Because I think you'll be seeing more of her in school than just the
future." Lydia's mouth
drops open. "Are you serious about her?" I can't help the smile
that spreads across my face. The next moment, Lydia smacks my arm.
"I don't believe it! James!" "What?"

"If Dad finds out
about this, he'll go crazy," she says, shaking her head. Her hand is
still on my arm. She squeezes briefly. "But you look very happy. I'm happy for you."
I didn't know it would be like this. I didn't know what it felt like to be in love, or that
just the thought of Ruby would make my heart race. I want to tell Percy to go straight to
her because I'm afraid I won't be able to stand another second without her.
"What's wrong with Percy?" Lydia asks suddenly, as if she had

she read my mind. She speaks more quietly than before and nods toward the cab.
"I have no idea." "He

didn't even ask me how it went," she mumbles.
“You can tell me,” I offer, but Lydia wrinkles her nose.
"You're weird when you're in love." I just grimace.
We spend the rest of the journey in mutual silence.

Lydia is typing away on her phone and I look out the window and think about last
night. When we get home, I go around the car to help Percy with the suitcases. He
stops me with a wave of his hand and looks at me seriously.
"You should go in, Mr. Beaufort." He hasn't spoken to me this harshly since I spilled
Coke on the newly installed back seat when I was seven. Percy looks between me and
Lydia, then swallows hard and turns to the suitcases. Lydia and I look at each other
confused and walk up the steps to the entrance.
“What’s wrong with him?” Lydia whispers, even though we’re already out of earshot.
"No idea. Have you spoken to Dad since yesterday?" She shakes her
head and I unlock the door and enter the foyer next to her. Lydia places her bag on
the small table that is right behind the door when Mary, one of our housekeepers, comes
into the hall. When she spots us, she turns white as a sheet. I'm just about to greet
her when she turns and hurries towards the salon. Lydia and I exchange another look.
Together we walk through the hall and into the room that Mary ran into.
Dad is standing in front of the fireplace. He has his back to us, but I
can see that he is holding a glass of light brown liquid in his hand, even though it is not
even midday yet. The fire crackles quietly in the fireplace and Mary murmurs something to
him before she quickly disappears again.
"Dad?" I ask.
He turns around, his face expressionless, as I'm used to.
Nevertheless, I have an uneasy feeling when I put the rings under
see his eyes.

“Sit down.” He points his hand at the green sofa
Velvet cover as he walks to the armchair right next to it.
I don't want to sit down. I want to know what the hell is going on here. Lydia sits
down while I continue to stand in the entrance to the parlor, staring at my father. He lifts
the glass and downs the rest of the scotch that is in it. Then he sets it on the side
table.
»Sit down, James.« That is an order, not a request. But I can
don't move from my spot. The tension is too great. Something had happened, I felt it
the moment I entered the house.
"Where's Mum?" Lydia asks. She still sounds forcedly cheerful, as if she's
trying to mend the mood between Dad and me.
She must also know that something is wrong here.
"Your mother had a stroke." My father sits
leaning back in the armchair, his arms on the armrests and his legs crossed so that
his ankle rests on his knee.
His expression is steely. Unmoved. Just like always.
“The … What … “What do you mean?” Lydia stammers.
“Cordelia had a stroke.” He repeats the words as if he had rehearsed them. "She's dead."
Lydia puts her hands over her
mouth and sobs. It's coming
I feel like I'm not really present. My mind has separated from my body and I view
the scene from somewhere completely different.
Dad keeps talking, but I only understand fragments of words.
Vessel burst... came too late... Hospital do. … nothing more for them
His mouth moves, but his words mix with the plaintive sound Lydia makes.
There is also a noise.
A quick and loud gasp.
I think it comes from me.
I press my hand firmly to my chest and try to suppress it. It doesn't work. I
breathe faster and faster, but I still can't seem to get any air. All the tips I've read about
panicking on the internet can't help me at this moment. My body switches to autopilot
and causes me to break out in a cold sweat.
Mom is dead.
She is dead.
My father doesn't bat an eyelid. Maybe it is a bad
Just kidding. As punishment for not being invited to Balliol.
"When?" I say, breathing heavily. I feel dizzy. The ground beneath my feet is shaking.
I need to hold on to something, but I don't know how to command my arms to move.
My father looks at me, his gaze unfathomable. "Monday afternoon." My

heart. It's bound to stop
at any moment or explode in my chest. At first I don't realize what my father said
because I'm too busy getting air into my lungs. But after a few ragged breaths, the
meaning of his words sinks in.
On Monday afternoon.
Today is Wednesday.
"Let me sum this up," I say, my voice shaking. "Mum had a stroke two days ago
and you're only telling us now?" I shouldn't have to ask this question. I should go to my
sister and
hug her. We should cry together. But it doesn't feel right. It still feels like this
isn't really happening to me - it's happening to someone else who has temporarily gained
control of my body, and I'm just watching. Powerless and utterly stunned.
Dad drums his fingers on the arm of the chair. "I didn't want you to mess up the
interviews." I can't explain what happens next.
It's like a blazing bolt of lightning strikes my head. The next moment I'm jumping at
my father and ramming my fist into his face. My blow is so hard that the chair tips over and
my father and I fall to the floor. Lydia lets out a piercing scream.
Something hits the ground and shatters. My fist hits my father's indifferent face again.
Blood spurts from his nose and a bone in my hand crunches dangerously. There are
shards of glass all around us. My hand burns and throbs, but I swing again anyway.
“James, stop!” Lydia screams.

Someone grabs me from behind and tears me away from my father. I fight against the
tight grip like a wild animal. I want to make my father pay. For everything.
Dad gets up from the floor with Lydia's help. Blood is running from his nose and one
corner of his mouth. He touches his face with his fingers and looks at the dark red. Then he
looks at Percy, who is still holding me back. “Get him out of here until he calms down.”
Percy pulls me around and drags me down the hallway. His arms are wrapped so tightly
around my chest that I can no longer breathe. He drags me down the hallway, where we hit a
dresser and something else breaks. Only outside does Percy set me down again. I turn
around and want to go straight back into the house.
"Mr. Beaufort, stop," Percy says, grabbing my shoulders. I push his hands away
and shove him in the chest.
»Out of the way, Percy.«

»No.« His voice is determined, and his fingers dig firmly into
the fabric of my jacket.
"He didn't tell us. You didn't tell us," I manage. I nudge him again. "My mother is dead and
you didn't tell me." The words feel like acid, and suddenly the burning is everywhere: in my
mouth, my throat, my chest, and my eyes.
My vision blurs.
“My mother is dead.” A dull
pain spreads rapidly through my body.
It hurts so much. I don't think I can take it. He's bringing me to my knees and I still can't breathe
properly. It has to stop. I have to silence this pain.
My hands shake so badly that they slip off Percy's jacket.

The next moment I turn around and walk towards the garage.
“Mr Beaufort!” I
make a defensive gesture. Percy follows behind me as I walk into the garage.
My feet carry me to my car. With trembling hands, I dig the key out of my pants and pull open
the driver's door. The edges of my vision are darkening and it feels like I'm going to pass
out at any moment. Doesn't matter. Simply
nothing matters. I start the car. Percy stands right in front of it. That doesn't
matter either. I press the accelerator and he jumps out of the way at the last
moment. I drive off, tires screeching, wiping my wet cheeks with the back
of my hand.
OceanofPDF.com
32
Ruby
The doorbell rings just as I'm pulling out a wooden block from a game
of Jenga. I jump, and the jerk of my arm causes the whole tower to collapse.
Mum, Dad, and Ember boo me, and I curse under my breath.
»You're out for the next round,« says Mum, rubbing her
Hands. She is the best of us and almost never loses.
After telling my family about my trip and showing them a little Oxford
slideshow on my laptop, we had dinner together and then decided to have
an afternoon of games. This is now our third round of Jenga - and I've
already lost twice. I admit defeat and get up.
While the others start stacking the small wooden pieces back on top of each
other, I go to the door. My eyes widen when I see who is standing there.
“Lydia?” She looks
devastated. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are all swollen. I take
a step towards her, but she immediately raises a hand to stop me. "Is
James here?"
I shake my head. "No. “What happened?” I ask, alarmed.
Lydia doesn't seem to hear me properly. She takes her cell phone
out of her jacket pocket and dials a number before putting it to her ear.
I go outside to her in my socks and grab her arm. I look at her intently. "What
happened?" She just shakes her
head.
"Cy? It's me," she says suddenly. "Is James with you?"
When Cyril says something on the other end of the phone,
Relief appears on her face. "Thank God." I hear Cyril's voice
again on the other end, but I don't understand what he's saying. Whatever it is,
it causes Lydia's expression to darken again.
"Okay. No, I'm coming." He says something else and Lydia gives me a quick look.
"Yes. See you soon."
After she hangs up, she turns around and walks back to the car where Percy is
leaning. He also looks so worried that a sinking feeling spreads in my stomach.
“Lydia, please tell me what happened,” I repeat.

She stops and looks over her shoulder at me. "I can't." "Let me come with you," I
say suddenly.
She opens her mouth and closes it again. »I don't think that
“That’s a good idea.” I
gesture for her to wait a moment. Then I run back into the house, slip on my boots,
grab my coat and the knitted scarf Dad made me. I call out to my family that I have to
leave for a moment and take my key from the hook next to the front door. As I walk, I wrap
the scarf around my neck. Lydia looks like she wants to hold me back but just
can't muster the strength to do so.
Without another word, she disappears into the car. I greet Percy, who nods at me
briefly, then I get in the car too. Lydia is sitting in the seat that James usually takes. Her
eyes are glassy and she is fiddling with the hem of her red coat. I would love to reach for
her hand, but I don't dare.
"The offer still stands. If you want to talk, I mean," I say quietly.
Lydia flinches as if I had yelled at her. She looks up, tears shimmering in her eyes.
With every second I spend in her presence, the sinking feeling in my stomach gets
worse. What must have happened to make her so devastated. Suddenly a terrible thought
occurs to me. I take a look up. The red light isn't on, which means Percy can't hear us.
I lean forward a little.
“Is everything okay with the baby?” I whisper.

Lydia looks at the driver's cab in panic, but the partition is also raised. Then
she turns back to me. “Yes,” she says in a rough voice. “We had at home…” She
pauses, seeming to consider how much she can confide in me. "There was an
argument."
Since James told me about his father last night, I can

get an idea of what "quarrel" means in the Beaufort household. Goose bumps cover
my whole body.
"Is James okay, Lydia?" I whisper, unable to contain the panic
to suppress in my voice.
Lydia shrugs helplessly. “Cyril says yes.” The next fifteen minutes
feels like an eternity. I'll claw those
Fingers in the hem of my jacket, trying not to freak out with worry. I don't know what any
of this means, and Lydia avoids my gaze and just absentmindedly strokes her stomach.
Every now and then she blinks hard, as if she were trying to prevent tears. Her cell
phone vibrates once. As she reads the message, she presses her lips together tightly and
then doesn't seem like she wants to talk at all.
When Cyril arrives, Lydia jumps out of the car and walks quickly to the front
door. She slips on the icy stairs and I grab her arm at the last moment to stop her from
falling. She thanks him in a murmur.
Cyril is already standing in the doorway. When Lydia arrives, he greets him
he greeted her with his arms outstretched. "Look who is enriching the party with his
presence."
He takes her in his arms, but she just stands there and endures it like a lifeless
doll. It takes a while for Cyril to break away from her. Then he spots me. “And you even
brought a plus-one.
How nice.« He says the last words in a tone that leaves no doubt that he actually
means the exact opposite. Then he takes a step to the side and we enter. Even here you
can hear the thumping music that is playing further back in the house.
Cyril still has his arm around Lydia's shoulder. I wonder if he knows what happened or is
just tactful enough not to mention it to Lydia.
We cross the hall that I walked through last time. This time there are no guests in
the gallery; the party seems to be taking place entirely in the salon. As we enter, music
is blasting towards us and I look around. It's not as crowded as the last time I was here. In
fact, the party is pretty manageable. I don't know why, but this just makes me more anxious.
A few people I don't know are dancing in the middle of the room in their underwear.
Alistair sits on one of the sofas and makes out with a tattooed, beefy guy. Further back
at the drinks trolley I spot Kesh, who is squinting at the two of them and emptying his glass in
one go.
My neck starts to tingle … and then I discover

James. He is sitting on one of the sofas near the pool. My shoulders stiffen as I look over him.
He looks completely exhausted. His hair is disheveled, the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up,
and I can see a few red spots on his gray shirt - the shirt I wore last night. My heart sinks.
I'm about to go to him when I see him lean forward. He tilts his head over the table, pinches
one side of his nose with one finger and draws a white substance up through the other nostril.
My mouth drops open. He didn't just...
A blonde girl who looks vaguely familiar climbs out of the pool and strolls toward
James. She crooks a finger and motions for him to come to her. He stands up and tilts his head.
She walks the last meter towards him and stops close in front of him. Then she raises her
hands and starts unbuttoning his shirt. At that moment I recognize her. The girl groping my
boyfriend is Elaine Ellington. A cold shiver runs down my spine and I feel a painful ache
in my stomach. I'm frozen.
“Since when has he been like this?” Lydia asks Cyril.

»Since midday today. He's completely lost.” Lydia hisses a curse.
The two of them continue to talk, but I can't hear them over the roaring in my ears.
Elaine slides the shirt off James' shoulders until it falls to the floor. She then tampers with his
belt.
That's enough.
At this moment, my anger is greater than my fear of the water. In just a few long
steps, I am with them.
"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss.
James turns his head to me, but he's not looking at me, he's looking straight
through me.
He seems completely alien to me. His face is as if it were petrified, his pupils so huge
that they take up most of his iris and I
can no longer really see the extraordinary turquoise blue.

His cheeks are pale and his eyes are red-rimmed.
This is not my James. This is the guy he was months ago,
the guy who bribes people with money, hangs out with his friends every weekend, and
hooks up one girl after another. It's the guy who feels nothing and doesn't care about
anything.
“James,” I whisper, taking his hand. His skin is ice cold.
For a second, something flickers in his eyes. It is dark and consuming and seems to
be eating him up from the inside. He breathes in audibly, closes his eyes briefly - and when
he opens them again, the expression has disappeared. "You have no business being here,
Ruby." "But I..." While I'm still talking, he turns around and jumps into the
pool. The loud
splash makes me flinch. Small splashes of water land on my face and I jump back.
Elaine and a few other guests, who are only wearing their underwear, follow James into
the water. Wren is among them. He roars when he resurfaces and splashes James even
more. James shakes the water out of his hair, grinning.
Everything here feels unspeakably wrong. I would really like to talk to James, but
that's not possible for various reasons. My fear doesn't allow me to go any closer to the
water, and besides, I don't think there's anything you can say to him in this state that he'll
understand. James seems so unconcerned. As if the world was rushing past him and he
was just letting himself be carried along in a daze.
Elaine moves towards James. He swims backwards until he reaches the

Wand has arrived and she follows him, smiling. My heart is beating faster and faster.
I don't understand what's happening here. It seems like a bad dream to me. Under the
water I can see the blurry outline of her body pressed against his. She now stands between
his legs, leans forward and whispers something in his ear. The two seem familiar. As if this
wasn't happening for the first time. Everything in me tells me to go there and drag her
away from him, but I can't move. James doesn't do anything as Elaine takes his
face between both hands and kisses him.
Something inside me shatters. Small shards of glass pierce my chest and

work their way deeper into me until I can barely
can still breathe.

Suddenly someone puts a hand on my shoulder. “Well, that’s the one
James Beaufort, whom I know," Cyril whispers close to my ear.
What I mean is: This is not the James Beaufort that I know.
You have no idea what he's really like.
He's my friend, you stupid asshole.
But that's not true. If James Beaufort were my friend, he would
not do that. If he were my boyfriend, he would have come to me when he had a
problem and confided in me instead of distracting himself from his pain
with alcohol and drugs from his superficial friends. If he were my boyfriend, another
girl's tongue wouldn't be stuck down his throat right now.
I turn on my heel. I slip on the wet floor, but just manage to catch myself. I make my
way through the salon as fast as I can. My steps clatter on the floor of the huge hall as I run
towards the exit. I have to get out of here as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I don't
think there is a place in the world where I can forget what just happened.
“Ruby!” Lydia calls from behind me. I stop and look over my shoulder. When
I see how desperate she is, I feel guilty.
"I'm really sorry your family situation is so crappy, Lydia," I say, my voice shaking. "But
I can't do this. Not like this, not after..." After what? After I thought we were over that? After
we slept together? I can't possibly tell her that.
“He needs you now,” she begs me.

I let out a bitter laugh and throw my head back to
to look at the ceiling. This hall is so over the top decadent. Gold as far as the eye can
see, priceless oil paintings, expensive antique vases - things that suddenly seem
completely insignificant to me. I turn around and continue my way through the hall until I
finally reach the exit. Lydia calls after me, but I can't hear her anymore.
When the heavy door closes behind me, I see it as a symbol.

For a brief moment I actually thought that this could work with James and
me if we both wanted it enough.
But now I realize something: I will
never be a part of his world.
Unfortunately, I only realize this now when it is far too late.
OceanofPDF.com
thanksgiving
Many people were involved in the creation of Save Me and I would like to thank
them: My husband
Christian, who supports me with advice and action and always encourages me.
Jerome Scheuren, who applied to Oxford and was such a huge help to me with
the plotting.
My test readers Laura Janßen, Ivy Bekoe and Saskia Weyel, whose comments
were worth their weight in gold.
Kim Nina Ocker, Ruby and James' official book godmother,
for their infectious enthusiasm and the days of writing together.
My friends Lucie Kallies and Maren Haase, who always have an open ear for me
and with whom life is so much more fun.
My agents Gesa Weiß and Kristina Langenbuch, who are a great support to me.
My editor Stephanie Bubley for plotting together, for listening to my random

flashes of inspiration, for dealing with K-pop for me, and for working closely together on
the text. Also, eternal thanks to the entire team at LYX Publishing, especially Ruza Kelava
and Simon Decot, for making it possible for me to write this new series.
And finally, I would like to thank all readers for picking up this book. You are wonderful
and I am sorry about the ending, but luckily Ruby and James' story will continue soon!
…
OceanofPDF.com
Ruby and James' story continues:
(published on 25 May 2018)
OceanofPDF.com
The author
© Mona Kasten
Mona Kasten was born in Hamburg in 1992 and studied library and
information management before devoting herself entirely to writing.
She lives in Lower Saxony with her husband, her cats and countless
books, loves caffeine in all forms, long walks in the forest and days
when she can only write. The author is always happy to hear from her
readers on Twitter (@MonaKasten).
Further information at: www.monakasten.de
OceanofPDF.com
LYX.digital in the Bastei Lübbe AG This title

is also available as an audio book.
Original edition
Copyright © 2018 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Cologne

Text editing: Stephanie Bubley
Cover design: Sandra Taufer, Munich
Cover image: © Shutterstock/Shebeko
Typesetting and e-book: Greiner & Reichel, Cologne
ISBN 978-3-7363-0643-1
You can find us on the Internet at: www.lyx-verlag.de

Please also note: www.luebbe.de and www.lesejury.de
OceanofPDF.com
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OceanofPDF.com

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Machine Translated by Google

Machine Translated by Google

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

My life is divided into colors:

No one in my family has ever studied, and I know that

I take a look at the clock above the massive wooden door

Instead, I start packing up my pens as inconspicuously as possible.

In the first few weeks I was constantly in the huge building

But while I was completely lost at the beginning, I know that

sure I could find my way to Mr. Sutton's office even blindfolded.

»I would have had my letter of recommendation written by Sutton too

»Why?« I ask, mentally noting that our caretaker

I push past the rest of the students with my eyes lowered

I can't stand it a second longer. I resolutely delete mine

Now my hands are shaking slightly as I take another look at my watch.

It's half past one. To the minute.

Shaking my head, I close my backpack again. Normally

"Ruby," says Mr Sutton breathlessly. His hair is completely disheveled, the

I am getting dizzy. Besides, I'm sure everyone

“Ruby…” he starts, but the ringing in my ears is getting louder.

Someone is battering my skull with a jackhammer.

"I can't really remember," I answer, daring to glance in Alistair's direction.

Alistair grimaces in pain and makes an incomprehensible hum.

Alistair also snorts contemptuously. He doesn't seem impressed either

The next moment he gave me a sharp shove in the chest.

As fast as I can, I swim to her and get out of the pool.

I already know that the moment Ember and I...

“What do you mean?”

“You look great,” I reply, raising the small digital camera

This certainly has a lot to do with the self-confidence she has

“When will the article go online?” I ask.

Mum comes to me and kisses me on the cheek. »Everything

“Let me know when your post is online,” Mum says afterward

“Sure.” I also shove a spoonful of cornflakes into my mouth

If you only knew.

If I tell anyone about Mr Sutton or have anything to do with it,

No. I definitely shouldn't mess with the Beauforts.

School is horror. I try to concentrate on class, but my mind keeps

We start in the auditorium, where we attach the first poster together to

Maxton Hall is known for its legendary parties. In this school

When I started school, I had to choose an extracurricular activity, and the

Lin turns to me, a wide grin on her face. "Is it

»Shall we hang up the two posters and then eat

Nonetheless, I avoid taking my eyes off my lasagna as I balance my tray across

»I have to help my mum with an exhibition today,« says

The fact that we found each other is actually a miracle. Because

James Beaufort sat down next to me.

Not good at all, not good at all, not good at all.

"Sure," she croaks. "Go ahead." I just

Only when I am sure that no one can hear us anymore,

“Listen, Beaufort…” “I’m

He presses something into my hand. As if dazed, I lower my gaze

Completely stunned, I stare at the money, then back at his face.

I detest him. Him and everything he stands for.

How he lives – without consideration or fear of consequences. If you

James frowns. “What…” I suddenly raise

A reddish-blonde ponytail bounces in front of my face. I direct all my anger at him.

Suddenly there is laughter around me - he has made a joke.

I lower my gaze to my planner so quickly that my hair

Only when the footsteps and voices of my classmates gradually become

The only student still in the room with us is Lydia Beaufort.

My heart is pounding in my throat as I shoulder my backpack and walk forward. I

“Lydia, would you leave us alone?” he asks without looking at her.

He blinks, perplexed, and it takes him a moment to react.