“THE BUFFET WILL OFFER a cross section of specialties from all the British colonies of Victorian times, and there’ll be autumn-leaf confetti falling from the ceiling onto the dance floor.” Persephone drank some of her mineral water to moisten her throat. And she needed it, because for a quarter of an hour she had been talking enthusiastically about the strictly secret surprises that the Autumn Ball would have in store for its guests. So far, however, there’d been nothing really surprising about them. All the same, the two girls sitting with us in the cafeteria were hanging on Persephone’s every word. I’d forgotten their names, and it was possible that they had never told me what they were called, so for the sake of simplicity I thought of them as Itsy and Bitsy from the nursery rhyme about the spider.
“It’s amazing to think you’re going for the second time,” said Itsy to Persephone. “You’re so lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.” Persephone gave me a conspiratorial smile. “Does it, Liv?” She looked across to where Florence and Emily were sitting, two tables away from us. With them there was also the spotty boy, whom I had correctly identified as Emily’s brother because of his likeness to her, and who according to Persephone was my ticket to Paradise. So I kept trying to hide behind Bitsy’s broad back, in case they saw me and it occurred to Florence to introduce us. I very much hoped they’d finish eating before we did, because we’d have to pass their table to hand in our trays.
“You can’t just wait for your prince to ride up on his white horse—you have to make use of your connections,” Persephone went on. “And you mustn’t on any account be too picky about your partner for the ball. For instance, last year I went with Ben Ryan—”
“Isn’t he gay?”
“Yes, but you mustn’t mind that sort of thing if you want to go to the ball when you’re in the middle school. My partner this year isn’t my first choice either, you know. Gabriel bites his fingernails, and he has hands the size of toilet lids, but anyway he’s better than no partner at all. You have to look at these things pragmatically, not romantically, understand? Which doesn’t mean you can’t aspire to higher things—anyone can dream.”
Itsy and Bitsy nodded reverently. “But not everyone has a sister on the ball committee,” said Itsy.
“And no one’s going to ask us.” Bitsy sadly stirred her tiramisu.
“Well, probably not,” Persephone agreed. “But I’ll tell you all about it. And show you photos. This year couples are being photographed against a real Victorian stage setting, and the prints will be in sepia. People in the pictures will look like authentic characters out of an Oscar Wilde novel like Jane Eyre.”
“Oh, how incredibly romantic,” breathed Itsy. “Considered pragmatically, I mean.”
“Jane Eyre isn’t by Oscar Wilde. But The Canterville Ghost is,” I murmured. “And it’s very romantic, too.”
Persephone was about to say something. She took a deep breath and pointed her spoon at me, but then she froze and opened her eyes very wide, a sure sign that Jasper was in sight. I’d have liked to have a good laugh about that, but I was definitely the last person who could do so. Because wherever Jasper turned up, Henry usually wasn’t far away, and the mere sight of him made my heart beat faster.
I turned around. And sure enough, Jasper, Arthur, Henry, and Grayson had just come into the cafeteria, and as usual all eyes were drawn to them. It must be awful to have people staring at you like that. But then, why did they always go about together, walking in time with each other? Or stand, like now, in the sunniest place in the room and look around, apparently in search of someone, so that their hair shone in every shade of blond? And so that any idiot was bound to notice how good looking they were?
Their eyes passed over me as fleetingly as over everyone else in the room; I wasn’t even sure if they noticed me at all in this sea of school uniforms and heads. As if nothing linked us together. As if that conversation in the Hamiltons’ home cinema had never taken place. As if I’d only dreamed it.
Mom, Mia, Lottie, Ernest, and I had spent all Sunday sightseeing, like any ordinary bunch of tourists in London. Big Ben, the Tower, St. Paul’s, Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, the Millennium Bridge, and the London Eye—Ernest had us going all over the place and took what felt like two million photos of us. Grayson and Florence hadn’t joined our party, understandably, since they’d lived in London all their lives. However, in the evening Florence had come with us to the performance of Hamlet at the Globe Theatre that finished our day of tourism, and she had spoiled the whole performance for me by sitting next to me and murmuring the text along with the actors under her breath when the play got really exciting. It turned out that she had played Ophelia in the last school performance. The most beautiful Ophelia of all time, of course. But I couldn’t bring myself to hate her anymore, not now that I knew her mother had died of Huntington’s disease. It must have been terrible not to know whether she and Grayson carried the gene. When Hamlet said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” I couldn’t help nodding. How true, how very true.
All things considered, it had been a lovely day, even if I’d rather have looked around Highgate or wandered about Notting Hill. I could always make up for that later—without Ernest. The hours had flown by, and I’d hardly had time to think about demons, wishes, dreams, and kisses, let alone work out graphs and diagrams. I was worn out at the end of Hamlet (“The rest is silence”), and I had fallen into bed and slept all night—not entirely dreamlessly, but long and deeply, in the certainty that no one could come through my green door now if I didn’t want them to. Not even Henry, whose hair was shining like liquid woodland honey in the sun over there.
Oh no, had I really just thought that? Liquid woodland honey—hello? Ashamed of myself, I bit my lower lip and was grateful, yet again, that no one could read my thoughts.
At least I was breathing to some extent normally, which was more than could be said of Persephone. Only when my friends who went in for conjuring up demons were sitting down at Florence and Emily’s table did Persephone relax. She took a deep breath. “Like I said—anyone can dream,” she repeated, as if nothing had happened. “But you still have to be realistic.”
Itsy sighed soulfully. “That Arthur Hamilton is so incredibly handsome! I get goose bumps whenever I set eyes on him. But Henry Harper is totally sweet too. And sexy.”
“He’d be even sweeter if he did something about his hair,” said Persephone. “Like Jasper—his is always perfectly styled. I think Jasper is the most virile-looking of those four. Kind of grown-up.”
“And doesn’t he just behave that way too,” I muttered.
“I think Grayson is the most handsome,” said Bitsy. “Next-most handsome after Arthur, I mean. He always has a nice look in his eyes, and they’re such a lovely brown.”
“Yes, right. Like dark caramel,” I said. But then I pulled myself together. Oh God, I had to get out of here—this silly gossip was infectious. I abruptly pushed back my chair and stood up. “I forgot that my sister has something important to … Er, would one of you be kind enough to hand back my tray for me when you’ve finished? Thanks a million.” And without waiting for an answer, I made my escape, going a long way around the table where Henry and the others were sitting.
Mia was astonished when I turned up in the lower school cafeteria and dropped into a chair at her table. Not without some pride, she introduced me to her neighbor, Daisy Dawn.
Daisy Dawn was delighted to meet me, what with my being Mia’s sister and getting mentioned so often in the Tittle-Tattle blog.
“We were just talking about the Autumn Ball,” she told me, her eyes shining. “Lacey says she heard from Hannah that Anabel Scott is coming back from Switzerland specially to go to the ball. So that Arthur won’t have to go with anyone else. I can’t wait to see what dress she’ll wear this year. Last year it was velvet, dark red, gorgeous.”
I groaned. This just could not be true! The epidemic of idiocy was spreading like wildfire.
“Okay, I’d better be on my way. Very nice to meet you, Daisy Dawn.”
Still in the lower school cafeteria, with Mia’s baffled gaze on my back, I walked faster, and in the corridor I broke into a run. Rather breathless, I finally reached my locker and tapped in the four-digit code that opened the lock. The short sprint had done me good; all that pink candy floss had removed itself from my brain.
“Four, three, two, one. Not what I’d call a particularly secure combination.” I spun around. Henry! Hadn’t he been in the cafeteria just now?
“Go on, then, rob me!” I said quickly, before I could blush scarlet or think up anything soppily stupid about gray eyes or hair the color of woodland honey. “You’d be able to lay hands on an amazingly valuable math textbook about functions and equations, a pair of sneakers size seven, and a genuine antique cell phone fit to go into a museum. I’ve been wishing for years that someone would steal it from me.”
When Henry laughed, my stomach had that odd feeling again. The corners of his mouth crinkled so cutely, and he had very good teeth, and I couldn’t imagine why I’d ever thought his nose too long. And those incredibly fascinating eyes …
“Are you all right?” he asked seriously.
“I’m fine,” I said, calling myself to order.
“And what’s not certain?”
Aha! “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Henry must have tried going through my green door into my dreams last night—that would also explain the dark shadows under his eyes. I grinned gleefully. What’s not certain? That question was part of the barriers I’d used to secure my door. And a much more imaginative one than Henry’s boring locks and keys, as well as obviously being more difficult than Grayson’s. Only someone who knew the right answer would be able to get in.
Henry smiled. “Yes, I really would like to know. But I’m glad you took my advice. A very effective barrier. For me, anyway.”
“Not just you,” I said confidently.
“Is it from a poem? Shakespeare, maybe?”
“No,” I said. “Much more difficult than that. Any old demon could Google ‘Shakespeare.’”
“Hmm.” Henry frowned. “I love a good puzzle.”
Just like me.
We said nothing for a moment. Then Henry said, “By the way, I’m supposed to be telling you that we’ll all meet at Jasper’s house on Saturday to go through your admission to the circle. Jasper’s parents will be away for the weekend.”
As soon as Saturday? “I thought it would be at the time of the new moon.” I bit back the other questions that were trying to pass my lips at the same time. (Does it hurt? Is it a bad thing that I can’t stand the sight of blood? Am I right out of my mind?)
“No, Saturday’s a good day. Unless you’ve thought better of the whole idea.”
I slowly shook my head and quoted one of Mr. Wu’s proverbs. “Ships are not made to lie in harbor.”
“Excellent,” said Henry. “Then we’ll see each other on Saturday.”
“Yes, that’s certain,” I replied, to provoke him.
“Oh, how mean of you. Can’t you at least give me a little hint?”
At that moment the bell rang for the end of break. Even more students crowded into the corridor, the voices grew louder, locker doors were opened and slammed shut again.
“A hint? Okay.” I had to admit that this was fun. “Let’s see … the answer has to be in German. Does that get you anywhere?”
“No, not really.” Henry thoughtfully bit his lower lip. “German, then. Hence that dirndl.… Oh, hi, Florence, Emily. And Sam. Again.”
Oh no, I must get out of here. Even if, at close quarters, Sam wasn’t quite as spotty as I’d thought.
Florence conjured up a smile on her face. I was amazed by her professional maneuvering. “Hello, Liv. Nice to see you here. Meet Sam and Emily.”
“I’m Sam’s sister,” Emily explained. “And Grayson’s girlfriend. Glad to meet you. We somehow never got around to it at the party last Saturday.”
Very true: First you were busy smooching like there was no tomorrow, then I was promising your boyfriend and his friends to help them liberate a demon from the underworld.
Sam didn’t say anything. He just looked uncomfortable. Henry, on the other hand, gave the impression of being extremely amused.
“Sam is sixteen. And very clever,” said Florence.
“Yes, his IQ is fifteen points above mine. And I’ve been ranked as highly gifted,” said Emily.
Oh, shit.
“He jumped two classes and will be doing his A levels next summer.” His mother couldn’t have sounded prouder than Florence. “And after that—where are you going to study, Sam?”
“Harvard,” said Sam, looking even more uncomfortable.
“Oh, what a coincidence!” cooed Florence. “You see, Liv is half American, and as far as I know her family comes from the Boston area, don’t they?”
“Well, yes. My grandparents and my aunt Gertrude live there.” I closed my locker door. “I’m afraid I’m in a hurry. I have to get up to the second floor.”
“Oh, that’s good—we’re on our way there too,” said Florence.
Bloody hell. I stood where I was as if rooted to the ground. My eyes went briefly to Henry, who was standing with his back to the locker, listening with interest. Should I try my luck with the toilets? Surely they wouldn’t follow me there. Or, at least, not all of them.
Florence took my arm. “On the way up, Sam can ask you something too. Go on, ask her, Sam.”
Oh no, this was all speeding up much too quickly for me. Maybe I ought to tear myself away and run for it? Spotty Sam might be clever, but he didn’t seem to be especially athletic. He’d never catch up with me.
On the other hand, I felt a little sorry for him. It must be awful to be bossed about by his sister and her best friend and made to ask a girl who was a perfect stranger to go to some rotten ball with him. The girls in his class were all older than him, and therefore presumably not so keen on being his dancing partner. And then there was the skin problem.… Poor Sam.
I tried a small smile at him. Maybe he just wanted to ask me something perfectly harmless, for instance whether I liked the school lunches, or if I enjoyed spelling bees, or what my favorite—
“Would you like to come to the ball with me?” asked Sam.
No! No, no, no, no, no.
Experimentally, I tried closing my eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help. The poor boy was still standing in front of me, looking as if he’d sink into the ground at any moment. What would he do if I said no? Cry? Run away? Get a rope? What on earth do you say in such a situation?
“Er. That is really very … nice of you.…” I stammered, desperately searching for more words, while Florence and Emily looked at me expectantly. I had no idea what Henry was doing, but I suspected he was grinning.
I hated Florence. This was all her fault. I mean, I’d made it perfectly clear what I thought of the ball. I’d sooner have a root canal without anesthetic. That’s what I’d said, hadn’t I?
“I know,” said Sam.
I know? I beg your pardon? “What do you know?”
“I know it’s nice of me to ask you,” said Sam. “You’re in the middle school. I could ask any girl I liked in the middle school, but Florence thought the two of us would be a good idea, kind of a family thing. So will you come to the ball with me?”
I opened my mouth (or rather, I didn’t have to, because it was already wide open), but before I could say anything, Henry had intervened.
“Although that really was a wildly romantic and totally irresistible invitation, I’m afraid Liv will have to refuse it,” he said.
That was certainly more elegant than the abrupt “No!” that had been on the tip of my tongue.
“Henry!” Florence let go of me and darted a furious glance at him. “You keep out of this. Of course Liv is going to the ball with Sam. We’ve already fixed—”
“The whole thing. Yes, I’m sure you have.” Henry came over to me. “But Liv can’t go to the ball with Sam because she’s already going with me.” He winked at me. “Isn’t that right, Liv?”
All eyes were resting on me again.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s right.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Florence. “You two hardly know each other.”
“Well, Sam’s only this minute met Liv himself,” said Henry.
“You hate occasions like that, Henry. You didn’t go last year either.”
“Then it’s high time I did,” said Henry. “After all, this is my last year at the Frognal Academy. My last chance to wear the wonderful get-up of white tie and tails, and dance waltzes lifting my partner in the air—”
“But…” Florence turned to me. “Why didn’t you say anything about this yesterday evening, Liv?”
I tried to hold her gimlet glance. “I wasn’t to know you were making plans like that.… I’m very sorry.”
“Hmm.” Florence still seemed to be suspicious, but Emily looked as if she’d like to throttle someone. With her bare hands. Sam, on the other hand, appeared to be composed to the point of indifference. I wondered whether to recommend other partners for him, two really nice girls who certainly wouldn’t say no, but he probably wouldn’t get far with the names Itsy and Bitsy.
“We’re off,” said Emily, pulling Sam away by his sleeve. “I said right away this was a stupid idea.”
Florence followed the two of them, after giving us a last inquiring look. “No you didn’t!” we heard her say.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That was a close thing,” I said, looking into Henry’s laughing gray eyes. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, cheese girl. Now will you tell me what’s not certain?”
“No! But you were so nice just now that I’ll give you another little hint,” I added, lowering my voice to a mysterious whisper. “It’s about someone called Hans.”
And then I had to run again so as not to be late for the geography lesson.