Читать книгу Glitter - Kate Maryon - Страница 11

I slip out of Mr Jenkins’s office and head towards my boarding house to pack my things. It’s not until I’m passing the fountains in front of the dining room that the penny suddenly drops and I realise that my dad is here to take me home. But he can’t take me home! What’s he talking about? I’ve been boarding at this school since I was seven years old. This place practically is my home and everyone here is much more like my family than even my own dad is. I like it here; I don’t want to go home. I wish I could run straight back to Mr Jenkins’s office and tell my dad that he’s got it all wrong. I wish I could beg Mr Jenkins to find some charitable something so that I can stay here, but my obedient legs keep on walking towards my room, afraid to stand up to my dad’s shouting and angry face.

Matron is lurking outside my room, waiting for me and I can hardly even see her because I have angry, salty tears streaming down my face. She’s already lugged my trunk from the trunk room and quickly starts helping me gather and fold my things. I keep dropping stuff because my whole insides have become trembling jelly and my teeth are chattering with cold, even though the warm autumn sun is shining through the open window. I pull my pony posters and cards and fairy lights from my pin board and fold my duvet and pillow into my trunk.

“Have you got time to go and say goodbye to everyone?” asks Matron.

I shake my head. “No, my dad’s in a hurry and I don’t even want to,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I just want to disappear.”

Just then, our dormitory door opens and Alice walks in. The bell for lunchtime must have gone off without me even noticing.

“What’s happening, Liberty?” she asks. “What are you doing?”

I wish the floorboards would open up and swallow me whole. Last year Bryony Eves was pulled out of school because her family ran out of money and the whole thing was so embarrassing for her. None of us were true friends, once she’d gone, we just forgot about her. I wonder where she is now?

“Matron will tell you,” I say, pushing past her and heading for the door.

“But why is your trunk packed up, Libby? You can’t just walk out and not tell me what’s happening.”

“I have to, Alice,” I shout. Tears are prickling in the back of my eyes, threatening to flow over again. “I don’t have any choice. I never have any choice. I have to go.”

But Alice isn’t going to be fobbed off. She knows me too well. She grabs me and makes me look at her.

“Liberty!” she shrieks. “Look at me; it’s me, your best friend Alice here. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I have to leave the school, Alice, OK?” I shout. “Is that a good enough explanation for you?” And then I feel myself go, I feel the heat burning inside of me, filling my body with rage. “It’s the credit crunch, Alice,” I scream, throwing my wash bag on the floor and trying to pull away from her. “Your dad was right about things changing and my dad’s gone bust and now I’m like Bryony Eves. So go off to lunch and gossip about me like we did her and then forget about me. Just get on with your own life, Alice and forget I ever existed. I’m different now, I’m not part of this any more and I never will be, ever again. I have to go, my dad’s waiting.”

“Lashing out and throwing things isn’t going to help, Liberty Parfitt,” she says, gripping my arms. “I’m your friend, remember. I’m here for you whatever happens.”

“Yes, well, that was then and now things have changed,” I scream, yanking myself away from her and picking up my things. “And once I’ve gone you’ll find a new friend to replace me. Now go back to school, Alice,” I shout as I slam through the door, “and forget about me.”

When I get back to the Grand Hall I find my dad sitting alone with his head in his hands, all of the air sucked out of him again. All my rage has been sucked out of me too and it’s growing into cold goose bumps under my skin.

“Come on, Liberty,” he sighs, “let’s go.”

“What about Sebastian?” I ask.

“He’s convinced me to let him stay. Mr Jenkins is going to sort out some funding for him. He has so little time left here, even I can see the madness in taking him away. So it’s just you and me, I’m afraid.”

I want to scream again and ask if I can stay and get some funding too so I can stay at school. But deep down I know that screaming won’t work, not with my dad, not with anyone. And anyway, I’m too scared to say anything because I can’t bear to hear the truth. I’m not a success like Sebastian, I’m an embarrassment to the Parfitt family and nobody in their right mind would waste their precious funding money on me.

The porters carry my trunk out to the car park and help Dad tie it on to the roof rack of a rusty old banger that I have never even seen before. Matron appears, waving me goodbye and crying and tucking a copy of 100 Favourite Poems into my hand. Mr Jenkins is shaking my other hand and wishing me good luck and good health for my future. And although I can hear all the good wishes coming from their mouths, I can’t really feel them; they bounce off my blazer and fall like raindrops, splashing to the ground. Sebastian joins us, his eyes all red rimmed and teary.

“Sorry, Libby,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “I just have to stay…you know?”

“I know,” I lie. “I’ll be OK. And it’s good for you stay. It’s important for your success. Don’t worry about us, I’ll take care of Dad.”

“I knew you’d understand, sis, and I’ll be home soon enough for the holidays,” he promises.

“I’ll miss you,” I say, covering the scared wobble in my voice and climbing into the passenger seat next to Dad. “Have a good rest of term.”

He gives my hand a friendly squeeze and keeps on waving us goodbye, until he’s a tiny speck in the distance.

Our new car is noisy and smoky and travels at snail’s pace compared to our old black Mercedes. The seats are battered and torn and big chunks of foam are forcing their way through the scratchy grey fabric. My dad sighs and turns on the Radio 4 news to fill the awkward silence that is growing between us. The newsreader keeps groaning on and on about the credit crunch and financial scandals and I wish we could have something more cheerful, like music, to fill our car. But that will never be possible. After a while he huffs and turns the radio off. I feel lonely, like all the warmth and friendliness of my life at school has drained down the plughole and I’m left alone sitting in an empty bath shivering, with no soft towel for comfort. There’s so much I want to ask, like what’s happened to our houses and cars and where are we going to live and if he thinks that Sebastian really will come home for the holidays, because I don’t think he will. But all of these questions are out of bounds because they might turn my dad into a snapping dog again. So I file them away in the back of my brain.

“Granny will help,” I say. “I’m sure of it. Granny has the Wisdom of Age.”

My dad’s eyes flash fire at me. “I don’t want you mentioning a word of this to your grandmother,’ he spits. “The last thing I need right now is for her to start interfering and busybodying around. Do you hear me, Liberty? I need you to keep your mouth firmly zipped. I need to find my own way out of this situation. And if I discover you two have been gossiping on the phone there’ll be trouble. OK?”