Читать книгу The Affair - Amanda Brooke - Страница 17

I was starting to feel weird around my friends. It was like I was out of sync with everyone. I tried to carry on as normal, but it was hard pretending not to have all these horrible feelings messing with my head.

Me and my friends spent most of our time hanging out in Eva’s garage. We’d made it really nice in there with a couple of old sofas and big fleecy throws so it was all cosy. Sometimes it was just us girls, but mostly it was the boys too – and when I say boys, I mean boys. Everyone was getting excited about the Halloween party Eva was planning for her sixteenth, and I wanted to get excited about it too, but part of me didn’t want to be around them any more. It was when I complained that the boys in our year were all lame that Eva came up with this stupid idea about inviting people from sixth form. If Liam was anything to go by, sixth formers weren’t exactly mature either.

It had really got to me that he had called me a little girl. It was so annoying because I didn’t want him to see me that way. That’s why I went on the pill.

It was so horrible when Mum tried to talk to me about it. Like I was going to tell her I’d already been to the doctor. And, oh my God, it was so disgusting when she just assumed I was thinking of going with Linus. As if! OK, we’d hung out together over the summer and we’d snogged a bit, but I never once said I was his girlfriend. It makes me cringe, thinking about all that fumbling around we did. I wanted something else. I wanted someone else and going on the pill was me being mature. I was getting prepared. I wanted to show him I wasn’t a silly little girl.

I should say now, in my defence, that I still wasn’t sure I’d actually do it, even if he wanted me to. Mum had said she trusted me and, for a split second, I honestly thought she did, but in the next breath she was having a rant about my schoolwork, which only proved she didn’t really.

It was so unfair because I was keeping up at school. I’m not totally irresponsible. Maybe I could have focused more, but if Mum thought forcing me to stay at home and take on extra lessons was going to solve my problems, well, it turns out that was so the wrong thing to do. Everyone was trying to fix things and it was laughable. They didn’t have a clue what was going on, none of them did, not Mum, not my friends and definitely not Mrs Anwar, who invited herself along to the meeting with Mr Swift.

‘Do you know why we’ve asked your mum to come in, Scarlett?’ Mrs Anwar said.

I was tempted to make some smart remark, but I bit my tongue and shrugged. She was sitting on one side of the table next to Mr Swift, while me and Mum sat on the other. It was a wonder my chair wasn’t smaller than everyone else’s so they could all look down on me. It was actually funny because I was taller than Mum and Mrs Anwar, and it was only Mr Swift who was on my level.

Mrs Anwar shuffled through a pile of papers in front of her and turned a couple around so Mum could read them. I didn’t need to, the sheets were covered in my writing with comments from teachers in red ink.

I still didn’t get what all the fuss was about and said, ‘I got a B for that one.’

‘And a C for the other one,’ Mr Swift said. ‘And for some of our students that would be a pretty decent result, but not for you, Scarlett.’ He dug out another test paper further down in the pile. ‘This is the kind of result you were getting last year.’

Mum leant forward to read the grade. ‘An A-star.’

‘And there are plenty more where that came from,’ he said. ‘Just not this year.’

‘I’ve only been back five minutes,’ I said. ‘I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal of it.’

‘Don’t you?’ Mr Swift asked.

I held his gaze so he knew I wasn’t a pushover, and then I bit my lip just to make him feel uncomfortable. It might have worked if he hadn’t turned to look at Mum.

‘We might only be halfway through the first term, Mrs Thomas, but soon there’ll be no new learning as we switch focus to revision and mock exams, and after that it’s the real thing. There’s only a small window of opportunity to get Scarlett back on track.’

‘What do we need to do?’

‘We can draw up a revision plan together,’ Mrs Anwar said. ‘It will help Scarlett organize her time better, as well as giving you an idea of the amount of effort she should be putting in.’ She turned to give me a smile. ‘We’re not suggesting you’re in trouble, Scarlett – far from it. You’re one of our best students and we want you to get the most out of the next few months so that you achieve the results we all agree you deserve.’

‘Thank you,’ Mum said, when I just sat there gritting my teeth.

‘As well as the revision plan,’ Mrs Anwar continued, ‘Mr Swift has offered to give you extra support. That could simply be checking with you regularly to make sure you’re keeping to the plan, but if you’re stuck on a particular subject, he can arrange for you to get support from specific teachers. He’s also kindly offered to give you extra revision sessions after class so you can continue to prepare for your exams in a school environment.’

‘Does that sound OK to you, Scarlett?’ Mr Swift asked. He was the only one to notice that I hadn’t actually agreed to anything yet. ‘If we can get started straight away, you’ll have a schedule to work to over half-term.’

I was still playing it cool and shrugged.

‘Great, that’s exactly what I like to see,’ Mr Swift said, rubbing his hands together, ‘a student who’s raring to go.’

‘We can only make suggestions, Scarlett,’ Mrs Anwar said. ‘It’s you who has to knuckle down and do the work.’

‘So?’ Mum asked me.

‘Can I think about it?’

Mrs Anwar looked as if she were about to explode, but Mr Swift played me at my own game. ‘Yes, of course you can, Scarlett,’ he said. ‘For all of fifteen seconds and then you’re on your own.’

‘And the longer it takes for you to get this sorted,’ Mum added, ‘the longer you’ll be grounded. It would be a shame if you missed Eva’s birthday party.’

‘OK, fine!’ I said and glared at Mr Swift when I added, ‘I’ll do anything you want!’

There was a sigh from Mum. ‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for,’ she told him.

In a funny sort of way, I was up for the challenge. I’d started playing men at their own game. I’d had enough of feeling uncomfortable about the way they all looked at me. I hadn’t realized that if I returned that look I could turn them into quivering wrecks. That way I could have them eating out of my hand. All of them.