Page 8 of Spearcrest Knight

I do end up spending every weekend in school, but each day is spent hiding in dark corners of the library, the study hall, empty classrooms. Anywhere I can find where I don’t have to speak to anybody.

It works, for a while.

Until Period 5 on a glum Wednesday afternoon.

Our English teacher, Miss Willard, pairs everybody up to read a scene from the Shakespeare play we are studying. I close my eyes and wish with my entire soul that I could disappear from Spearcrest, disappear from this world.

But Miss Willard, relentless as a machine, calls out, “Miss Sutton and Mr Knight.”

I might spend all my time avoiding the other students, but even I know exactly who Evan Knight is. He’s one of the most popular boys in our year group: rich, sporty, flashy.

The golden boy of Spearcrest, he draws attention to him wherever he goes.

He’s hard to ignore because he’s one of the only boys who is as tall as I am. His head is a shiny cloud of golden curls. But I keep my eyes firmly fixed out of the window, forcing him to come and sit next to me. I only look at him when it can no longer be avoided.

He’s looking at me with a smile. His bright blue eyes meet mine, and then drop, sweeping over my ravaged cheeks. Students are prohibited from wearing make-up, and even though this seems to be a rule everyone ignores, my parents took it seriously. I wasn’t even allowed to bring a concealer or half a tub of cheap foundation.

So my spots are raw and red and exposed for all to see, and Evan isn’t exactly trying his hardest to pretend he doesn’t see.

“You have got to be by far the ugliest thing I’ve seen in my life,” I think to myself, imagining his thoughts.

But he doesn't say this. Instead, he passes me a copy of the scene we have to read together and says, “What are we doing, then? I have no idea what any of this says.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did you not read the teacher’s notes?”

His blue eyes widen. Because of his curly blond hair and his boyish face, he looks like a cupid painting on a Valentine’s Day card. “What notes?”

Reaching into my bag, I pull out my English folder. “Those notes. The ones Miss Willard said to study before we start the play.”

He peers at them with an expression of confusion which tells me he has never seen those notes before in his life.

“Um, I don’t think I got those,” he says, brushing his hand through his hair.

He definitely got them. I’m tempted to say as much to him, but I make a tactical choice not to. So far, Evan Knight hasn’t said a single cruel, unkind or hurtful thing to me, and I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.

“Well,” I say, my stomach clenching uncomfortably. “I can, uh… I can explain it to you, if you want. Before we start with the reading. Then we’ll both know what we’re doing.”

And Evan Knight does something totally unexpected.

He looks right into my eyes, gives me a bright, genuine smile, and says, “Yeah, that’d be awesome. Thanks, Sophie.”

Illicit Shindig

Sophie

Overthenextfewweeks, I fall into my routine. While the other students are stressed out about catching up and applying to the best universities, I'm prepared. All my hard work over the years, all the colour-coded notes and timetables I meticulously mapped out at my desk while I ignored the elusive British summer, are finally paying off. I'm organised and ready to take on the work the teachers are already piling on us. I don't dread the challenge—I embrace it. Besides, keeping myself busy also has another advantage: it stops me from thinking about Evan.

Because if Idostart thinking about him, the wave of anxiety will inevitably flood in.

The thing is that I could have dealt with Evan if he was like any other boy at Spearcrest: disgustingly wealthy, vapid and arrogant. But Evan is more than just another Young King, more than just another rich arsehole who would never matter to my life.

Evan was my first friend at Spearcrest, there for me when things were the most difficult. He was my closest friend in Year 9, someone I grew to trust and love.

How things ended up the way they are now, I still don’t know.

I’ll never understand how things could go so wrong between two people that got on so well.

In any case, I have far more important things I need to think about. This year, I’m lucky enough to not share any classes with any of the Young Kings. If I play my cards right, I can stay out of their way for the majority of the year.

---