Page 31 of Save Me

Lin’s mum had to sell their big place in the country and move to somewhere much smaller, near Pemwick, so that Lin could stay on at Maxton Hall. OK, so it’s still about four times the size of our house, but even so, it must have been a major shock for Lin. In one stroke, she’d lost her family and her old life, and all her friends too.

Most of the time, Lin acts like none of it ever happened. Like things have always been the way they are now. But sometimes, I can see a hint of nostalgia in her eyes, a wistfulness that makes me think she does miss her old life. Especially when I catch her looking longingly at the free chair next to Cyril. I’ve wondered for agesif the two of them ever had something going on, but the moment I even hint at it, Lin changes the subject. I can’t blame her; after all, I hardly ever tell her anything about my private life either. But I can’t help being curious.

I find my eyes straying to James. His friends are chatting and fidgeting, but he’s sat rigid in his chair. Wren’s speaking to him, but I’m pretty sure he’s not listening. I wonder what thoughts are darkening his face like that.

“Nice that you’re all here,” the tutor begins, and I tear my eyes away from Beaufort. “My name is Philippa Winfield, but you can call me Pippa. I’m in my second year at Oxford, so I know only too well how you must be feeling at this stage in the application process.”

Wren mumbles something that makes Cyril laugh and then try to hide it by clearing his throat. They’re probably discussing how pretty Pippa is. She has a dark blond wavy bob and porcelain skin that makes her look almost like a doll. A very pretty, very expensive doll.

“In the weeks ahead, I’ll help you prepare for your Thinking Skills Assessments and interviews. The TSA is a two-hour test that you have to take for some courses at Oxford. It helps the colleges to establish whether you have the skills and critical thinking you’ll need to study there.”

The test is marked on my calendar for just after Halloween, and the thought of everything to come is making me jittery already. Over the next thirty minutes, Pippa tells us how the test is structured, how much time we’ll have for each section, and lots of other stuff that I already know. I don’t want to know how the test works; I want to learn how to pass it. As if she’d read my mind, Pippa ends by clapping her hands. “So, the best thing to do is simply have a look at some questions of the kind that could come upfor the writing task. I personally found it very helpful to discuss particular questions with other candidates because we all have very different ways of thinking, and that can be really eye-opening. So I thought it would be a good idea to do that here.” She opens a folder and takes out a pile of papers that she hands out. “You’ll find the first question on page two.” She points at Wren, who’s whispering again. “Would you please read it out?”

“My pleasure,” he replies with a cheeky smile, before picking up the sheet and reading. “The first question is: ‘If you can give the reasoning behind your actions, does that mean that your actions are rational?’ ”

Lin’s arm shoots up.

“You don’t have to put your hands up; this part will be an open discussion,” says Pippa, giving her a nod.

“Every action is based on emotions,” my friend begins. “Although they say you should think things through and make the intelligent choice rather than listening to your heart, in the end, all decisions are guided by feelings, and so they’re irrational.”

“That would be a very short essay,” says Alistair, and his friends laugh. Everyone but James. He blinks a couple of times like he’s just woken from a dream.

“It’s a thesis that you could expand on, or one of you can argue against it,” says Pippa.

“Before you can answer the question, you have to define what ‘rational’ even means in this context,” Lydia blurts out suddenly. There’s a pen jammed behind her ear, and she’s holding the sheet of questions. I wonder what course she’s applying for.

“Rationality means thinking or acting in a sensible way,” mumbles Kesh.

“In this context, ‘rational’ means ‘sensible,’ ” I say. “Butcommon sense is subjective. How can you define ‘sense’ or ‘reason’ when every person has different rules, principles, and values?”

“It seems to me that everyone has more or less the same basic values,” Wren puts in.

I hunch my shoulders uncertainly. “I think that depends on your upbringing and the people around you.”

“But everybody learns from when they’re a little kid that you’re not allowed to kill people and all that. If you act according to those values, then that’s objectively rational,” he replies.

“But you can’t trace every action back to those principles,” Lin points out.

“So, if I do something that will mess me up, but I know that I’m acting out of a particular principle, does that make it a rational decision?” Lydia asks. I look at her in confusion, but her gaze is fixed on the sheet of questions.

“If it’s in keeping with your basic understanding of common sense, then yes,” I answer after a brief pause. “And that’s exactly what shows us how different other people’s principles can be. I’d never choose to do anything that would mess me up.”

“So does that mean my basic understanding of common sense is worth less than yours?” Lydia suddenly looks furious. There are spots of red on her pale cheeks.

“What I mean is, in my opinion, an action can’t be rational if it results in someone getting hurt. Whether that’s myself or somebody else. But those are just my personal standards.”

“And your standards are higher than other peoples’, right?”

I look at James in surprise. He spoke so quietly that I barely heard him. He no longer looks as though his thoughts are elsewhere. Now he’s right here, in this room, his cold eyes fixed on me.

I grip my pen more tightly. “I’m not talking about me, but ingeneral, about the fact that everyone has a different way of thinking and acting.”

“So let’s say I snuck some strippers into a party to liven things up and give everyone present a nice evening,” James says slowly. “Then, if you look at it your way, that’s a thoroughly rational decision.”

My pen’s going to snap in half any second. “That wasn’t a rational decision, it was just immoral, shitty behavior.”

“Words like ‘shitty’ are best avoided, both in your essays and your interviews,” Pippa objects.

---