her head, closing her eyes for a few seconds.
Everything throbbed.
Like an automaton, she rushed to get her books and to join the others before the second bell went. Would they notice anything amiss? She felt like she was naked, that the whole world must be looking at her and knowing. She felt that there was writing all over her, that everyone would be staring. She held her head low, tried to hide in the crowd, sat down and huddled herself over her work.
A sharp nudge. WHAT’S WRONG??? Charlotte was looking at her, concerned.
ALL FINE she scribbled back, erasing it almost immediately. She wasn’t fine. She would never be fine again.
* * *
Somehow she found a still place inside her. It enabled her to get through supper, go through the motions of conversation, walk back with the others, use the bathroom, get ready for bed.
"I’m so bored of me," she told Charlotte. "Tell me an exciting story about your life."
Charlotte launched into a tirade about Teresa Hubert and Miss Partridge.
In one evening she had learned to act. To dissemble. To stash real-Laura deep away, in the still place.
She suspected that Susie was not convinced, but she didn’t care. She dreaded her dreams tonight, she knew they would be confused, and she feared she would talk in her sleep.
What was going to happen in their next German class? How could she face him? Did he hate her now? Had she ruined his life?
Would she ever feel like that again, be in his arms again?
And she wondered what he was doing now. Her mind reached out across the dark playing fields, to where the groundsman's cottages were. He would be alone, she thought. She feared he was angry. She missed him.
"Dear Diary, everything has gone wrong."
* * *
As it was, sleep evaded her. She lay for what seemed like hours, hearing the others breathe, Margery snoring slightly. Her pillow seemed alternately too hot or icy cold when she turned it. Her mind kept racing, she felt alternately excited and worried.
In the end she got up and crept to the bathroom. She sat on the cold tiles, her arms wrapped around her legs.
Then someone came in. It was Susie. "Come with me." Susie led her to the fire escape - it was strictly forbidden to go out on it, but had to be left accessible nonetheless. Occasionally people sneaked out on it to smoke.
The night air was freezing by then, there would be an early frost tonight. It made the stars brighter.
"I like it here," Susie said. She kept her voice low. There weren’t any teachers’ windows nearby, but it always paid to be careful. "I often come here while you guys are sleeping. I can’t sleep as early as lights out."
The fire escape was on the side of the building, so there were no panoramic views of the playing fields, but you could see about half of them. Not as far as the cottages, but Laura had looked through the dorm windows at them beforehand. No light had been on.
"So what’s happening?" Susie said. "Is it Jonathan?"
"Who?" Laura was momentarily thrown.
"Obviously not then. Jonathan - your supposed boyfriend from St Duncan’s."
He always signed his letters Jon. But even if he hadn’t he seemed so remote, so long ago now, that she would have forgotten anyway.
"So is it a girl then? As I said I won’t judge. My cousin’s gay." Susie couldn’t see how it could be another boy, Laura had never mentioned anyone else, and there were no boys anywhere around that she could think of. There was a younger lad who helped the old gardener but he was simple.
"It’s Mr Rydell."
When she spoke his name, it was as though the whole night sky rang with it. It pealed across the playing fields, she was sure he must hear it. All the world was echoing with it.
Susie wasn’t unduly shocked. "You have a crush on Mr Rydell? He’s very good looking, I can’t blame your taste. Or has he been mean to you or something?"
Mean? Laura couldn’t imagine him ever being mean. He was the absolute inverse.
"It’s not... a crush as such," she
Everything throbbed.
Like an automaton, she rushed to get her books and to join the others before the second bell went. Would they notice anything amiss? She felt like she was naked, that the whole world must be looking at her and knowing. She felt that there was writing all over her, that everyone would be staring. She held her head low, tried to hide in the crowd, sat down and huddled herself over her work.
A sharp nudge. WHAT’S WRONG??? Charlotte was looking at her, concerned.
ALL FINE she scribbled back, erasing it almost immediately. She wasn’t fine. She would never be fine again.
* * *
Somehow she found a still place inside her. It enabled her to get through supper, go through the motions of conversation, walk back with the others, use the bathroom, get ready for bed.
"I’m so bored of me," she told Charlotte. "Tell me an exciting story about your life."
Charlotte launched into a tirade about Teresa Hubert and Miss Partridge.
In one evening she had learned to act. To dissemble. To stash real-Laura deep away, in the still place.
She suspected that Susie was not convinced, but she didn’t care. She dreaded her dreams tonight, she knew they would be confused, and she feared she would talk in her sleep.
What was going to happen in their next German class? How could she face him? Did he hate her now? Had she ruined his life?
Would she ever feel like that again, be in his arms again?
And she wondered what he was doing now. Her mind reached out across the dark playing fields, to where the groundsman's cottages were. He would be alone, she thought. She feared he was angry. She missed him.
"Dear Diary, everything has gone wrong."
* * *
As it was, sleep evaded her. She lay for what seemed like hours, hearing the others breathe, Margery snoring slightly. Her pillow seemed alternately too hot or icy cold when she turned it. Her mind kept racing, she felt alternately excited and worried.
In the end she got up and crept to the bathroom. She sat on the cold tiles, her arms wrapped around her legs.
Then someone came in. It was Susie. "Come with me." Susie led her to the fire escape - it was strictly forbidden to go out on it, but had to be left accessible nonetheless. Occasionally people sneaked out on it to smoke.
The night air was freezing by then, there would be an early frost tonight. It made the stars brighter.
"I like it here," Susie said. She kept her voice low. There weren’t any teachers’ windows nearby, but it always paid to be careful. "I often come here while you guys are sleeping. I can’t sleep as early as lights out."
The fire escape was on the side of the building, so there were no panoramic views of the playing fields, but you could see about half of them. Not as far as the cottages, but Laura had looked through the dorm windows at them beforehand. No light had been on.
"So what’s happening?" Susie said. "Is it Jonathan?"
"Who?" Laura was momentarily thrown.
"Obviously not then. Jonathan - your supposed boyfriend from St Duncan’s."
He always signed his letters Jon. But even if he hadn’t he seemed so remote, so long ago now, that she would have forgotten anyway.
"So is it a girl then? As I said I won’t judge. My cousin’s gay." Susie couldn’t see how it could be another boy, Laura had never mentioned anyone else, and there were no boys anywhere around that she could think of. There was a younger lad who helped the old gardener but he was simple.
"It’s Mr Rydell."
When she spoke his name, it was as though the whole night sky rang with it. It pealed across the playing fields, she was sure he must hear it. All the world was echoing with it.
Susie wasn’t unduly shocked. "You have a crush on Mr Rydell? He’s very good looking, I can’t blame your taste. Or has he been mean to you or something?"
Mean? Laura couldn’t imagine him ever being mean. He was the absolute inverse.
"It’s not... a crush as such," she
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