hopeless black inside, the type of which she’d only ever written about. Wanting to be away from the other girls, Bobbie ducked into the nearest toilet. There was something she had to do.
The ground-floor bathroom was almost the same as it was now – the pipework all painted a sterile jade-green colour to match the aqua-green tiling. Bobbie crossed to the nearest mirror.
She woke up at once.
Dawn was breaking outside of the dorm windows, the curtains barely holding back the light. At some point in the night, Naya had crawled into bed alongside her. Either the conversation or a nightmare had spooked her – Naya often snuck in if she’d had bad dreams. Bobbie snuggled up next to her for heat and, if she was honest, security. Tonight the bad dreams were hers. With Naya there she felt safer.
Bobbie was almost too scared to close her eyes. She couldn’t remember what she had seen in the mirror. It had been too awful.
DAY TWO
Chapter 7
The Vanishing
It took a superhuman effort for Bobbie to drag herself out of bed the next morning. Her sleep had been so shallow, so wafer-thin, that it barely counted as rest. In daylight though, it seemed safer to close her eyes and so she deployed the snooze button three times.
Naya was no longer beside her and the other bed was empty, so Bobbie guessed she must have crept out to beat the shower stampede. Breakfast was at seven and classes didn’t start until nine, so it was her call as to whether she showered and got into her uniform before or after eating. Bobbie eventually flopped out of bed at ten to eight, the last possible minute she could join the breakfast queue. Grabbing a pair of leggings, Naya’s Yankees hoodie and some flip-flops, Bobbie trudged towards the bathroom.
She hadn’t got far when she realised something was wrong. Instead of eating breakfast, girls were scurrying up and down the hallways and in and out of each other’s rooms like agitated bees. The air was loaded – a buzz of activity and nervous chatter. Caitlin emerged from one of the rooms in Brontë and hurried towards the stairs. ‘Caitlin, what’s going on?’
‘Oh my God, didn’t you hear? Something’s wrong with Sadie. No one’s even allowed in Christie. Some people are saying she’s … she’s dead.’
The floor started to spin until Bobbie forced it to be still – the rumour mill was clearly working overtime. She gripped the banister at the top of the stairs for support. ‘What? No way.’
‘Swear down. I’m gonna find Grace. She’ll know what’s going on.’
Bobbie took off down the stairs at once. She knew how fast gossip could travel around this place. Last year Maisie Spence-Guillame had told
one person
she’d slept with Mr Granger, the vaguely handsome Maths teacher, and within
two hours
the police were in school. It hadn’t even been true, but it showed you had to watch your mouth in a school that had ears.
Naya was stationed in the Accy Area, acting as another node of information with Lower girls crowding around her. They parted to let Bobbie through. ‘Naya, what’s going on?’
‘Oh there you are. We have no idea – nobody’s saying anything. Just that something’s wrong with Sadie.’
Bobbie let out a mighty sigh of relief. ‘Oh thank God – Caitlin said she was dead.’
‘She might be,’ said ferret-like Rose Clarkson. ‘No one’s been in or out of her room. Dr Price and Mrs Craddock are up there now.’
‘Be real.’ Naya gave her a stinky glare. ‘If there was a dead girl upstairs don’t you think we’d have seen some police or an ambulance by now?’
‘Not necessarily,’ whined Rose.
Mrs Craddock leaned over the landing balcony that overlooked the Accy Area, looking harassed. ‘Girls! Dr Price says she wants you in uniform and in the main hall in fifteen minutes. No arguing, no exceptions.’ The gaggle of girls around the table tennis set started firing questions at the housemistress. ‘Oh, just get on with it, girls! Go!’
Naya
The ground-floor bathroom was almost the same as it was now – the pipework all painted a sterile jade-green colour to match the aqua-green tiling. Bobbie crossed to the nearest mirror.
She woke up at once.
Dawn was breaking outside of the dorm windows, the curtains barely holding back the light. At some point in the night, Naya had crawled into bed alongside her. Either the conversation or a nightmare had spooked her – Naya often snuck in if she’d had bad dreams. Bobbie snuggled up next to her for heat and, if she was honest, security. Tonight the bad dreams were hers. With Naya there she felt safer.
Bobbie was almost too scared to close her eyes. She couldn’t remember what she had seen in the mirror. It had been too awful.
DAY TWO
Chapter 7
The Vanishing
It took a superhuman effort for Bobbie to drag herself out of bed the next morning. Her sleep had been so shallow, so wafer-thin, that it barely counted as rest. In daylight though, it seemed safer to close her eyes and so she deployed the snooze button three times.
Naya was no longer beside her and the other bed was empty, so Bobbie guessed she must have crept out to beat the shower stampede. Breakfast was at seven and classes didn’t start until nine, so it was her call as to whether she showered and got into her uniform before or after eating. Bobbie eventually flopped out of bed at ten to eight, the last possible minute she could join the breakfast queue. Grabbing a pair of leggings, Naya’s Yankees hoodie and some flip-flops, Bobbie trudged towards the bathroom.
She hadn’t got far when she realised something was wrong. Instead of eating breakfast, girls were scurrying up and down the hallways and in and out of each other’s rooms like agitated bees. The air was loaded – a buzz of activity and nervous chatter. Caitlin emerged from one of the rooms in Brontë and hurried towards the stairs. ‘Caitlin, what’s going on?’
‘Oh my God, didn’t you hear? Something’s wrong with Sadie. No one’s even allowed in Christie. Some people are saying she’s … she’s dead.’
The floor started to spin until Bobbie forced it to be still – the rumour mill was clearly working overtime. She gripped the banister at the top of the stairs for support. ‘What? No way.’
‘Swear down. I’m gonna find Grace. She’ll know what’s going on.’
Bobbie took off down the stairs at once. She knew how fast gossip could travel around this place. Last year Maisie Spence-Guillame had told
one person
she’d slept with Mr Granger, the vaguely handsome Maths teacher, and within
two hours
the police were in school. It hadn’t even been true, but it showed you had to watch your mouth in a school that had ears.
Naya was stationed in the Accy Area, acting as another node of information with Lower girls crowding around her. They parted to let Bobbie through. ‘Naya, what’s going on?’
‘Oh there you are. We have no idea – nobody’s saying anything. Just that something’s wrong with Sadie.’
Bobbie let out a mighty sigh of relief. ‘Oh thank God – Caitlin said she was dead.’
‘She might be,’ said ferret-like Rose Clarkson. ‘No one’s been in or out of her room. Dr Price and Mrs Craddock are up there now.’
‘Be real.’ Naya gave her a stinky glare. ‘If there was a dead girl upstairs don’t you think we’d have seen some police or an ambulance by now?’
‘Not necessarily,’ whined Rose.
Mrs Craddock leaned over the landing balcony that overlooked the Accy Area, looking harassed. ‘Girls! Dr Price says she wants you in uniform and in the main hall in fifteen minutes. No arguing, no exceptions.’ The gaggle of girls around the table tennis set started firing questions at the housemistress. ‘Oh, just get on with it, girls! Go!’
Naya
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