Page 93 of Spearcrest Knight

I throw myself back onto my bed with a groan of despair. “She accepted my apology.”

“What else did you want her to say?”

“I didn’t want her to say anything else. I just wanted her to mean it.”

Zachary is staring out of the window, deep in thought. One of his ankles rests elegantly on his knee. He has a sort of cool, British energy I sometimes envy, like nothing can get to him. I bet if I was more like Zachary, more thoughtful and poised, Sophie would like me more.

“I mean, I can see why she would struggle to forgive you so easily,” he says in a thoughtful tone. “But how do you know she didn’t mean it when she said she accepted your apology?”

“Because she was like…” I close my eyes, covering them with my forearm.

In the darkness, I play the spectrum of Sophie’s expressions. Her sardonic amusement when she used to tutor me at my house. Her icy fury when she refused to tutor me. Her hurt and betrayal when I insulted her in front of everyone. Her flush of tipsy desire when I kissed her open mouth that fateful night.

“Because she was like… empty. No expression on her face, no emotion, nothing.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Sophie alwaysfeelsstuff. She gets annoyed or fed up or frustrated or angry or sad. She doesn’t just sit there like a blank whiteboard. But that’s exactly what it was like when she tutored me yesterday. She was like a wall. She barely looked at me.”

“Well, she’s probably still angry at you—rightfully so, I should think.”

“But I apologised! I did what you said!”

“I said tostartwith an apology. She’s accepted it, which is a step forward. Or if she didn’t mean it, it’s not a step at all, but at least it’s not another step backwards, right?”

“Ugh, why are you always talking in riddles? Say what you mean, man!”

Zachary stands and leans down over me where I’m lying in my bed, glaring at me.

“Then listen up, you whiny fuckwit. An apology is like an introduction to showing someone you’re sorry for what you’ve done. You didn’t just make her lose her job, you essentially betrayed her trust and then humiliated her in front of everyone that's already been looking down at her. At this point, you should be thanking your lucky star she doesn’t slap you in the face every time she sees you. Now you’ve apologised—great start, but it’s only a start. I don’t even see how you would expect her to forgive you so easily. If you want her forgiveness, then fucking earn it. But let’s be honest. You don’t want to be good to Sophie Sutton, because you’re scared it’s going to make you weak. You’d rather have the power and control of being an arsehole to her and making her hate you because that’s less of a risk. But guess what—we’re not fucking kids anymore. We’re adults. We’re about to go off into the real world, and Sophie is already basically in it. So you’re going to have to step up and grow the fuck up. Sophie doesn’t want you because she deserves better—you know that’s the truth. Sobefucking better. Otherwise, let her go and move the fuck on.”

There is a long, heavy, tense silence. I’m staring at Zachary in absolute shock. This has got to be the first time I’ve heard him speak for so long—he’s usually a guy of few words, but boy can he talk if he wants to.

When I don’t say anything he claps his hands together. “Right. And on that note… I’m off.”

He strides briskly out, and I’m left alone in my room. His words whirl like a tornado in my mind, and in the middle of that tornado, standing in the eye of the storm, Sophie.

What he said is hard to hear, but it’s the truth. I do have to make it up to Sophie. I do have to grow up and treat her well. And I want to. I want nothing more than to shower Sophie with everything I could possibly give her. If I could, I would lay anything she asked at her feet: love, affection, adoration, gifts and tributes.

But Sophie doesn't want anything from me. So how on earth do I earn her forgiveness or her trust or her love, if she won’t accept so much as an apology from me?

I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. What the fuck am I going to do? It’s not even like I can google how to win Sophie back, or how to earn Sophie’s friendship. I groan. If only there was an expert on Sophie Sutton or some sort of Sophie-whisperer I could consult.

I sit up.

How could I not have thought about it before? Thereisa Sophie-whisperer, right here at Spearcrest, and not even one, but two of them. Two Sophie-whisperers who have somehow managed to get themselves right into her heart.

And I happen to share a class with one of them.

29

Whisperer

Evan

ThenextdayafterBiology class ends, I grab a stool and plonk myself down next to Araminta Wilson-Sing. She’s sort of the opposite of Sophie: small and curvy and playful, with an impeccably made-up face and dark hair dip-dyed blond. She throws me the dirtiest look I’ve ever been thrown, like an actual piece of dog shit has just plopped down at her side, and angles herself away from me, packing her books into her bag.

“Go to hell, Evan.”

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