Page 74 of Second Song

My sprint ends at the stables where I grab my car keys along with what I’ve worked so hard on. Then I drive, only stopping at the car park for a few short moments. That’s where I do the opposite of retreating. I advance on an ex-soldier, wishing he was Liam, but it’s Ed that I thrust a letter at, one I started in a sculpture garden but finished in a stable. And here’s a totally on-brand reaction to his raised eyebrows—I choke, wordless in the shadow of a willow in the same spot where Charles called my first failure spectacular. He also called it lucky, a second chance, and so I try again, this time forcing out a single sentence.

“Sorry, Ed.”

I’m even sorrier that there’s no sign of Teo. Or Charles. Even Luke is missing, and somehow that isn’t a relief, but I can’t let regret fuck with this momentum, with this urge to fight for once, so I do that by driving away before it can chase and catch me.

Liam was right about Friday motorway traffic.

The M5 north is carnage as I head for the only place where I can put any of this right with only a roll of paper and a workbook as passengers while the sky ahead turns stormy. Or perhaps that’s only my mood as the afternoon turns to late evening. All I know is that it’s almost dark by the time I wind down my window and check my phone, making myself ignore message after message and missed call after missed call. I scroll through a message chain I don’t usually respond to, and that’s where I find the entry code for this keypad.

Tall gates open onto a long and sweeping driveway leading to a very different school than the one I just ran from.

But that isn’t true, is it?

“I’m not running.” My voice shaking like this is annoying. At least there’s no one in this car park to hear it now that the half-term break has started. A single light spills through an upstairs window. I picture who sits behind the desk in that study, and my voice shakes even harder. “I’m fighting.”

I’m not sure that’s true when I can’t even make myself stop gripping the steering wheel until my phone pings.

Liam: You staying away from cliffs, Row?

No.

No, I’m not.

His second message gets me moving.

Liam: Try staying alive until I get back tomorrow x

That means I have to get this done. For good or evil, the only way through is to keep moving forward. I carry that determination all the way into the school, walking past cabinets full of trophies that gleam like the sign at the foot of the staircase.

Headmaster’s Study This Way.

I’ve never wanted to go anywhere less, and I wish to fuck I had some of that grit Liam thinks I’ve got stocks and shares in. All I’ve got are a workbook and a roll of paper that I’m not sure were a good idea to bring here.

I hold them tight as I climb, only faltering at the top of the staircase where a red light shines over a door I used to avoid. I don’t knock or wait this evening. I don’t wait for that light to turn green either. I march into a headmaster’s study and throw myself off an edge with no one here to stop or save me.

The man behind the desk I’ve pictured so often lurches to his feet. “Rowan!” His accent is a soft Irish blast from the past.

“Sir…” That title doesn’t feel right now that I’m not a student. I can’t make myself voice another, but I’ve been silent in this room so often since this man called me out of lessons to tell me the worst news ever. Tonight, I clutch a book with a whole section on grief I’m now pretty sure I ran away from instead of processing.

And after so much time to do nothing but play and think my way through tough emotions at Glynn Harber?

I’m also pretty sure there’s another section in this book that kept me silent after returning here with my tail between my legs and my bottom out on show in public.

That means I can’t be quiet now.

Dig deep, Row.

That’s the one order I can follow, only I use a different name to do it.

“Eoin?”

That name doesn’t feel right for this man either.

I try out a final title, one that made Mum so happy.

“Dad? Can you help me?”

29

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