Page 49 of The Reunion

I’m still talking to her like she’s a child – I don’t mean for it to be patronising, and half expect Bryony to shout at me again, but her bunched-up shoulders relax a little and she hangs her head as my words sink in. I wait, try not to push her too hard, and instead we both step into the staffroom.

Well – Bryony steps in. Walks confidently through the room by the light of her phone, to a filing cabinet where she searches for the spare key to the caretaker’s office. I stand against the door, not quite inside the room; even at this age, it feels like crossing a boundary I shouldn’t, to go into the staffroom. Somewhere I should knock and stay respectfully on the other side of the door, only ever able to peer in from a safe distance.

Bryony collects the key, but doesn’t push the drawer of the filing cabinet shut. Instead, she leans heavily against it, brow furrowed and eyes squeezed tightly shut. I’m not sure whether to go put an arm around her, or if I should leave her with her thoughts for a moment. She’s clearly going through … well, a lot.

And honestly? I don’t think I blame her for hiding the truth, for keeping up this pretence that she’s living her dreams as an actress. I faced more pity and sympathy and second-hand regret tonight than I’d care to think about; if I had the chance to do it all over again, maybe I’d have put a spin on a few things, too.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ashleigh

‘Most Likely to Kill Each Other’

This cannot be happening. Not even in my wildest nightmares would I be stuck in the science lab with Ryan Lawal during a power cut in the middle of our school reunion. And yet somehow, here we are, trapped by a government-funded, high-tech security door I was so bloody jealous of earlier.

This cannot be happening.

But Ryan wrestles with the door handle and I punch random numbers into the keypad that don’t even make a little beep of recognition that they’re being pushed at all, and the light isn’t red or green or anything else, it’s completely non-existent, and the door won’t budge, and –

And I am actually fucking stuck in the science lab with Ryan Lawal during a power cut in the middle of our fucking school reunion.

A frustrated sigh rips from my mouth and I fall back a couple of steps, at the same moment as Ryan takes a stride back, and then throws himself shoulder-first into the door, like he can break it down by physical force.

I fold my arms across my chest and let him try, biting back a snarky comment about how he’s only going to hurt himself. Not because I want him to, but – well, if anybody can do it, I bet it’d be Ryan Lawal. He’d be lauded as a hero afterwards, too.

But after the third attempt at throwing his weight (which, I imagine, is not inconsiderable, given how broad and muscular he is, which is not me looking but just a factual observation), Ryan gives up. He winces when he moves back on his left leg and bends slightly to knead his knuckles into his lower thigh.

‘Finished?’ I ask him dryly, raising my eyebrows and nodding towards the door.

He narrows his eyes at me, but he’s not looking at me exactly, rather he’s looking above me, at … ‘Give me some of your hair clips.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The clips, or whatever. In your hair. We could try to pick the lock.’

I examine the door handle, but that takes all of two seconds. It’s literally just a handle. Aloud, I point out, ‘There’s no actual, physical lock to pick, Ryan. It’s just that stupid security system, genius.’

He scowls at me. ‘I don’t see you coming up with a better plan.’

If it’s a power cut, then that door will remain locked until the power is back up. I suppose there’s a chance that Bryony might be able to help; if she organised tonight, maybe she has some contact information for the headmaster or caretaker – but when I check my phone, I have hardly any signal, and when I fire off a quick text to Hayden, the angry little red exclamation mark pops up beside it as it fails to send.

Shit. That’s just what we need.

Our only other option is the windows, but when I cross the room and lean over the counter to flip one open, it only opens a couple of inches out from the bottom, like you get in hotels and high-rise office blocks. No good for climbing out of, which, considering we’re on the ground floor, would’ve been no trouble at all.

‘What’s your next great idea, genius?’ Ryan quips, and I shoot him a glare I’m not sure he can see anyway. There’s only a little light coming in through the windows, that deep blue of a summer night that puts everything in greyscale.

‘At least I’m trying something—’

‘Oh, and I wasn’t?’

‘Nothing useful! So unless you want to dislocate your shoulder or use that thick head of yours as a battering ram—’

‘Right. Here we go again.’

‘What now? What—’

‘I’m not stupid, you know. We were in the same top-set classes, or did you conveniently forget that? I got pretty good grades and I studied hard, too. Whatever you think of me, I’m not—’

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