Page 76 of The Reunion

Which still has a little red light on the security pad next to it.

And which, just like earlier, doesn’t budge when she tries to open it.

The grin stretches wide across my face when she gives me a put-upon look, and I like that she’s a bit shorter than me now she’s not wearing those heels. I like that she doesn’t look too sorry to be stuck this time, too.

‘Looks like we’re still not free.’

What a shame, I think, but out loud I just say, ‘Still got that flask, Easton?’

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Bryony

‘Most Likely to Become Famous’

The second Freddie Loughton makes that joke about how Ashleigh and Ryan will have actually killed each other, I want to kill him. Because, you know, he’s probably right – they’ve barely even looked at each other all night but everybody’s noticed the tension. Those two are a goddamn inferno. There’s an equal chance that Ashleigh will have either strangled Ryan with his own intestines or is currently forcing him to listen to a thirty-eight-point presentation on all the ways she thinks he is aiding and abetting a government she cannot and will not support.

(I bet if he was Green Party, she’d totally deny climate change, though. That’s what the Green Party are all about, right?)

Anyway, whatever is going on with the two of them right now, it sends up nothing but red flags as everybody confirms that they’re both missing, and have been for ages, which is just, you know, totally great, absolutely fine.

Except obviously, if they’re missing, it’ll be to one-up each other. There will be annotated flaccid penises galore on the whiteboards, or they’ll have broken into a DT room to try to show off some skill or other, or they’ll have gone and found the old common room sort-of-but-not-really changed and be rearranging all the furniture …

Long story short – they’ll be up to no good.

It is totally incidental to everything that Ashleigh is smart enough to glom onto the fact that there’s a ton of proof around the school that I work here, if she bothers to look, which she absolutely will. And it is pure coincidence that without Ryan being the centre of attention and flirting shamelessly and cracking jokes, the party vibe might die down quicker than I’d like it to and it’ll be a really boring, dry end to the night.

No, it’s definitely the ‘up to no good’ thing that’s the problem here. Absolutely.

‘What’s the big deal?’ Noodles Greg asks, grinning and inching towards the doors like he can skirt around me, like I won’t notice, which only pisses me off more. ‘She’ll be around somewhere!’

‘Yeah, somewhere, that’s my problem! Nobody’s meant to be anywhere except the school hall!’ My voice rises to a higher pitch. ‘And—’

‘She’s an adult, mate!’ Greg has the audacity to clap me on the shoulder, then, and I’m about ready to throw hands. I seethe as he grins at everybody else, oblivious. ‘Come on, let’s all get back to enjoy the rest of the party before we totally sober up!’

‘No! Nobody’s going anywhere until we track them down. I have to … Fuck. Fuck!’

It’s not that I don’t think they can look after themselves. It’s that when the two of them are together, it’s a ticking timebomb, and they’re both willing to take drastic measures to fuck the other one over.

And, ultimately, all they’re doing is fucking me over. I bet they caused the power cut somehow. I bet they even pulled the fire alarm for a joke, and it had nothing to do with me and the fuse box. They’ve ruined my one perfect night. Just one night! With everyone believing I am who I want to be. Feeling like my old self again. Was that so much to ask? Was it really so goddamn unreasonable?

Steph comes over, cutting Greg a look to send him away, and then gives me a gentle, patient smile, like she’s not in my bad books too, right now. But she says softly, ‘Bryony, help us understand. Ashleigh and Ryan will be around somewhere, like Greg said. Why don’t we just call them and tell them to come back?’

‘Tried,’ Hayden says, waggling his phone. ‘Ashleigh’s going straight to voicemail. I texted her, but no dice.’

‘Yeah, I couldn’t get hold of Ryan, either; I just tried him but got the same thing,’ Hiro informs us.

Steph bites her lip, doing her best to give me a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure they can’t have gotten into too much trouble.’

‘Yeah,’ RJ shouts over, and the rugby lads starts nodding like the Churchill dog and egging him on. Amped up by the instant support, RJ calls, ‘And what’s the big deal if they have, anyway? Not like they couldn’t pay for any damages.’

‘Or pay to get the bloodstains cleaned up,’ Freddie adds, and I hate the laughter that follows.

And I crack.

I lose it. My composure, my last nerve, any semblance of willpower – it all goes flying out of me in an instant and I transform like the witch in Into the Woods, shedding this beautiful, pristine, glamorous shell to become something wretched and warped in front of their very eyes. I feel the way my face twists into an ugly snarl, hands curving into a claw-like grip on thin air at my sides, and I see the alarm in some people’s faces, Steph’s included, as I round on the rugby lads. They were mostly good banter when we were teenagers but now I’m on the other side of it, they are the bane of my life, and not the sexy Anthony Bridgerton kind. The annoying, want-the-skin-to-melt-off-my-face, about-to-scream kind.

Which may really, ultimately, be a me problem, but I’m about to make it a them problem.

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