Page 2 of Save Me

Lin and I are the first to leave the room. We hurry across the west wing of Maxton Hall and take the next left.

I spent my first weeks here getting constantly lost in this huge building and ended up late to class more than once. I was so embarrassed about it, but the teachers kept on reassuring me that most new arrivals at Maxton Hall do the same. The school is like a castle. There are five floors; south, west, and east wings; and three other buildings for subjects like music and IT. There are countless corridors and shortcuts to get lost in, and you can’t be certain that every staircase comes out on each floor, which is enough to drive you insane.

However confusing it was at first, I know the buildings like the back of my hand now. I’m pretty sure I could even find my way to Mr. Sutton’s office blindfolded.

“I wish I’d got Sutton to write my reference too,” Lin grumbles as we walk down the corridor. There are Venetian masks adorning the wall to our right—the work of last year’s A-level art students. As always, I’m amazed by all the playful detail in them.

“Why’s that?” I ask, making a mental note to ask the caretaker to put the masks away safely before the Back-to-School party at the weekend.

“Because he’s liked us since we worked on the summer ball last year, and he knows how dedicated and hardworking we are. Plus, he’s young and ambitious, and it’s not that long since he was at Oxford himself. God, I could kick myself for not thinking of that.”

I stroke Lin’s arm. “Mrs. Marr was at Oxford too. Besides, I bet it looks better to get a recommendation from someone with more teaching experience than Mr. Sutton.”

She eyes me skeptically. “Are you regretting asking him?”

I just shrug. At the end of last term, Mr. Sutton picked up on how desperate I am to get into Oxford and said he’d be happy for me to pick his brains, ask him anything I wanted to know. He didn’t study PPE, but he was still able to give me heaps of insider information, which I devoured greedily and later noted down carefully in my journal.

“No,” I reply in the end. “I’m sure he knows what to put in.”

Once we reach the end of the corridor, Lin and I are heading in opposite directions. We agree to speak later and say a quick goodbye. I glance at my watch—1:25—and pick up the pace. I’m due to meet Mr. Sutton at half one, and I don’t want to be late. I hurry past the tall Renaissance windows, through which the golden September light floods into the hallway, and squeeze past a group of students in the same royal-blue uniform as me.

Nobody takes any notice. That’s how things are at Maxton Hall. Everyone wears the same uniform—blue-and-green tartan skirts for the girls, beige trousers for the boys, and tailor-made blazers for everyone—and yet there’s no mistaking the fact that I don’t really belong here. Everyone else comes to school with expensive designer bags, but my green backpack is so threadbare these days that I’m constantly expecting it to rip. I try not to let myself be intimidated or fazed by the fact that certain people here act like they own the entire school just because their families are rich. To them, I’m invisible, and I do everything I can to keep it that way.Just keep your head down.So far, so good.

Eyes lowered, I push past the others and take one last turn to the right. Mr. Sutton’s door is the third on the left. There’s a heavy wooden bench between his and the neighboring office, and I glance down at my watch again. Two minutes to spare.

I can’t wait another second. Resolutely, I smooth out my skirt, straighten my blazer, and check that my tie is where it should be. Then I knock on the door.

No answer.

With a sigh, I sit down on the bench, looking both ways down the corridor. He might just be getting some lunch. Or tea. Or coffee. Which reminds me that I’ve drunk too much caffeine already today. I was antsy enough as it was, but Mum had made too much, and I didn’t want to waste it. Now my hands tremble slightly as I take another look at my watch.

It’s half past one. On the dot.

I look down the hallway again. Nobody in sight.

Maybe I didn’t knock loud enough. Or—and the thought makes my pulse race—maybe I’ve made a mistake. Maybe I’m not meeting him until tomorrow. I tug frantically at the zip on my backpack and pull out my planner. But when I check, everything’s correct. Right date, right time.

I close my bag up again and shake my head. I’m not normally this out of it, but the idea of not getting into Oxford only because I messed something up on my application is freaking me out.

I force myself to calm down. I stand up, walk back to the door, and give a firm knock.

This time I hear a sound. Like something being knocked to the floor. Cautiously, I open the door and peek into the room.

My heart skips a beat.

I did hear something.

Mr. Sutton is there.

But…he’s not alone.

There’s a woman sitting on his desk, kissing him passionately. He’s standing between her legs with both hands around her thighs.The next moment, he grips her tighter and pulls her to the edge of the desk. She groans softly into his mouth as their lips melt together once again, then buries her hands in his dark hair. I can hardly tell where one of them stops and the other begins.

I wish I could tear my eyes away from the two of them. But I can’t. Not when he slips his hands farther under her skirt. Not when I hear his heavy breathing or her quiet sigh of “God, Graham.”

By the time I’ve shaken off my state of shock, I’ve forgotten how to work my legs. I stumble into the room, knocking so hard into the door that it slams into the wall. Mr. Sutton and the woman leap apart. He whirls around and sees me in the doorway. I open my mouth to apologize, but the only sound that emerges is a dry choke.

“Ruby,” Mr. Sutton says breathlessly. His hair is messed up, his top buttons are undone, and his face is flushed. He looks like a stranger, not like my teacher.

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