Page 1 of Save Me

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Ruby

My life is divided into colors:

Green—Important!

Turquoise—School

Pink—Maxton Hall Events Committee

Purple—Family

Orange—Diet and Exercise

I’ve already completed purple (take Ember’s photos), green (buy new highlighters), and turquoise (ask Mrs. Wakefield for maths revision notes) for today. Ticking something off on my to-do list is the best feeling in the world by miles. Sometimes, I even write down things I did ages ago, just so that I can cross them straight off again—although I use a subtle gray for that, so that I don’t feel like so much of a cheat.

If you opened my bullet journal, you’d see at a glance that my daily life consists mainly of green, turquoise, and pink. But just over a week ago, at the start of the new school year, I added a new color:

Gold—Oxford

The first task I noted down with my new pen was “pick up reference from Mr. Sutton.”

I run my finger over the letters with their metallic shimmer.

Just one more year. One last year at Maxton Hall. I almost can’t believe that it’s finally here. In a little more than a year’s time, I might be sitting in a politics seminar right now, being taught by the world’s cleverest people.

It won’t be long until I know whether my deepest wish will come true, and the mere thought makes everything within me tingle with excitement. Will I get in? Will I be able to study atOxford?

I’d be the first in my family to go to university, and I know that I’m lucky that my parents gave more than a weary smile the first time I announced, at the age of seven, that I was going to go to Oxford, and later, that I wanted to study Philosophy, Politics, and Economics.

But even now—ten years later—the only thing that’s changed is that my goal is now within touching distance. It still feels like a dream that I’ve even got this far. I keep catching myself in the fear of suddenly waking up and realizing that I’m still at my old school and not at Maxton Hall—one of England’s most famous independent schools.

I glance at the clock over the classroom’s heavy wooden door. Three minutes to go. We’re meant to be working, but I finished the task last night, so all I have to do is to sit here and wait for this lesson to finally come to an end. I jiggle my leg impatiently, earning myself a dig in the ribs.

“Ow,” I mutter; I’d jab my friend Lin back, but she’s too quick and dodges out of the way. Her reflexes are incredible. Presumably because she’s been having fencing lessons since primary school, so she needs to be able to strike like a cobra.

“Stop fidgeting,” she whispers back, not taking her eyes off her paper. “You’re making me edgy.”

That makes me pause. Lin never gets nervous. Or if she does, you’d never tell, and she’d never admit it. But at that moment, I can actually spot a hint of worry in her eyes.

“Sorry. I can’t help it.” I run my fingers over the letters again. I’ve spent the last two years doing everything I can to not just keep up with the others, but to be better. To prove to everyone that I have a right to a place at Maxton Hall. And now that it’s time to start filling in our university applications, the anxiety is almost killing me. I couldn’t help it, even if I wanted to. I’m slightly reassured that Lin seems to feel the same.

“Have the posters arrived, by the way?” Lin asks. She squints over at me, and a strand of her shoulder-length black hair falls into her face. She brushes it back impatiently.

I shake my head. “Not yet. Should be here this afternoon.”

“OK. Shall we put them up tomorrow after maths, then?”

I point to the bright pink entry in my bullet journal, and Lin nods in satisfaction. I glance back up at the clock. It’s a real effort to stop my legs from jiggling again. Instead, I start to put my pens away, as subtly as possible. All their nibs have to point in the same direction, so it takes me a while.

I don’t put the gold pen away though; I slip it solemnly through the thin elastic band around my planner. I twist the lid so it’s facing the front. Only now does it feel right.

When the bell finally goes, Lin jumps up out of her chair faster than I’d have thought humanly possible. I raise my eyebrows at her.

“Don’t give me that look,” she says, slipping her bag over her shoulder. “You started it!”

I don’t reply, just put the rest of my stuff away with a grin.

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