Page 20 of Nobody in Particular

“Are you not entertained?” she asks me as we sit back down.

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” I whisper back.

“Well, don’t fall. Again.”

Okay, so we’re back to teasing. But still. I got a human moment out of Rose. It’s a win and I’m gonna take it as one.

After half an hour, I’m actually kind of wishing we were in class. Harriet’s given up on explaining the game to me, and it’s too noisy to hold a regular conversation. Molly’s still commentating to her phone, and Alfie’s fixated on the game, and Eleanor is talking to some guy who doesn’t seem to be her crush. As for Rose, she looks downright crabby. She’s practically glowering down at the field, her jaw clenched and her fist tight around the flag she’s holding. What’s got her in such a shitty mood? Is she as bored as I am, or is it deeper than that?

I don’t mean to stare, but I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing, which makes it a little humiliating when Rose’s head snaps up out of nowhere and she finds me zeroed in on her. It’s too late for me to pretend to look somewhere else, so she locks eyes with me.

“Danni,” she whispers in a weird voice, quietly enough only I can hear her. God, she’s going to call me out for staring at her, isn’t she? Can I come up with a good excuse in time? What if I say there was a bug in her hair, or that I was just about to ask her a question, or—

“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” she asks.

Oh.

That is one of the last things in the world I expected her to say. Consider me rattled again. But even if I am taken aback, I’m also super bored, and super curious about what the heck she wants from me. So, shoving my nervousness as far down as I can, I nod.

And Rose smiles.

TENROSE

When I ask Danni Blythe to take a walk with me, her face is knowing as she nods. I’m not sure if she suspects my intentions—to grill her about Molly, mostly—or if she’s simply grateful to escape Harriet’s play-by-play explanation of the game. The world’s most uncharismatic commentator.

Harriet and Florence both watch me closely as Danni and I stand up, but I’m careful not to meet either of their eyes, lest I give them the impression I’m inviting them to meet me elsewhere. It’s long been a tradition of ours to slip away from school games, Eleanor and Molly included, to meet in the nearby woods and smoke.

Harriet and Florence in particular were aggrieved when I told the group I would be partaking in no such activities in the future. Although both Bramppath and Ashford have introduced a zero-tolerance policy toward drug and alcohol use this year in response to Oscar’s death, the new policy clearly wasn’t enough to discourage my friends. So, I blamed the press, explaining that if I’m caught partaking at school, my situation will become ever-more precarious, but in truth it’s only half that. The other half is that I promised Molly at Oscar’s funeral that I would change.

Even if it’s a promise I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep for long.

With Sidney following behind us, we descend the stairs. Dannihas an iron grip on the handrail, I’m pleased to note. My back is still smarting from the last time I saved her life.

“What are you taking me to do, exactly?” she asks, as we head in the direction of the woods. They’re still technically part of the college grounds, though they’re rarely occupied.

“Escape the game.”

She snorts. “Gotcha.”

There’s nobody in sight, luckily. Still, we aren’t really meant to be wandering the grounds during games, optional attendance or not, so it might be best to come up with an excuse. I turn to Danni. “Do you have any idea what we might say we’re doing if we’re asked?”

She thinks for a moment. “You’re taking me to the nurse’s office. I did just fall down the stairs.”

“You fell down a step,” I correct, and Danni fights a smile. “You don’t have to limp,” I whisper. “It’s overselling it a bit.”

“I’m not faking it, I hit my leg before.”

“What, really? Are you going to sue?”

“I—no? Why would I sue?”

“Isn’t that what Americans do? Sue everyone all the time?”

“That’s offensive,” she says dryly. “It’s a harmful stereotype.”

“Is it? My apologies.”

“That was really problematic of you, actually. Aren’t you meant to be trained in foreign relations?”

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