Page 1 of Save Us
1
Graham
When I was younger, my grandfather always used to ask me,If one day you lost everything, what would you do?I would never think seriously about my answer to the question, just say whatever popped into my head first at that moment.
When I was six, and my brother had deliberately broken my toy truck, I said,I’ll fix the digger.
When I was ten, and we moved from Manchester to the outskirts of London, I said,I’ll just have to find new friends.
And when I was seventeen, my mum died, and while I was trying to be strong for my dad and my brother, I said,We can get through this.
Even then, giving up was not an option.
But now, aged almost twenty-four, sitting here in this office where I suddenly feel like a criminal, I no longer have an answer. At this moment I feel as though there’s no way out of this situation, that my future is uncertain. I don’t know how I’m meant to go on from here.
The drawer squeaks as I pull it out of the heavy cherrywooddesk. I dig around in the muddle of pens and notepads that have accumulated there over the last year. My movements are slow, my arms feel like lead. But I need to hurry—I have to be out of the building by the end of lunch.
You are suspended with immediate effect. You are expressly forbidden from maintaining any contact with Maxton Hall students. If you breach this ban, I will go to the police.
The pens fall through my fingers and clatter onto the floor.
Bloody fucking hell.
I bend down, pick them up, and dump them in a box with the rest of my belongings. It’s a mishmash of notes, textbooks, my grandfather’s globe, and handouts I’d photocopied for tomorrow’s lessons and now might as well leave behind, although I can’t bring myself to do that.
I look around the office. The shelves are bare, and there’s nothing but a few bits of paper on the desk and the smudged writing pad to show that I was marking essays here until a few hours ago.
You only have yourself to blame, a spiteful voice nags in my head.
I rub my pounding temples as I check all the drawers and cubbyholes in the desk one last time. I shouldn’t drag out my goodbyes any longer than strictly necessary, but I’m surprised by how reluctant I am to tear myself away from this room. I’d decided weeks ago to look for a job in another school so that I could be together with Lydia. But there is a major difference between leaving a job of your own accord and being escorted out by security.
I gulp hard and take my jacket from the wooden coat stand. Mechanically, I pull it on, then grab the box and walk to the door. I leave the office without a backward glance.
The questions are piling up in my head:Does Lydia know? How is she? When will I be able to see her? What should I do now? Can I ever work as a teacher again? What if I can’t?
But I can’t find the answers to them now. All I can do is fight the rising panic and walk down the corridor toward the school office to drop off my keys. Kids run past me, and some of them greet me politely. My stomach is throbbing painfully. It’s a struggle to smile back at them. Teaching here was fun.
I turn the corner and, suddenly, it feels as though someone’s tipped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. I stop so abruptly that someone crashes into me from behind and murmurs an apology. But I barely take it in—my eyes are fixed on the tall, red-blond young man whom I have to thank for this entire situation.
James Beaufort’s face doesn’t flinch at the sight of me. Far from it—he looks totally unbothered, as if he hasn’t just screwed up my entire life.
I knew what he was capable of. And I was aware that it wasn’t a good idea to get on the wrong side of him. Lexington warned me as much on my first day at this school:You never know what he and his friends will do next.Watch out for them.I didn’t pay much attention to his words because I knew the other side of the story. Lydia had told me how hard all the family expectations were on her twin, and how he’d closed himself off from everyone, even from her.
In hindsight, I feel a total idiot for not having been more careful. I should have known that James would do anything for Lydia. Having destroyed my career is probably all in a day’s work for him.
Standing next to James is Cyril Vega. It’s a good thing he doesn’t take history, considering that I can’t set eyes on himwithout picturing him and Lydia together. Walking out of school together and getting into a Rolls. Laughing together. Cyril with his arms around her, comforting her after her mother’s death in the way I never could.
After the tiniest hesitation, I grit my teeth and walk on, the box jammed under my arm. I grip the keys in my pocket more tightly as I come closer to them. They’ve broken off their conversation and are watching me, each of them with a hard, impenetrable mask of a face.
I stop by the door to the school office and turn to James. “Happy now?”
He doesn’t respond, which makes the anger inside me boil over.
“What were you thinking?” I ask, glaring at him. “Didn’t you and your friends realize that your childish prank would destroy my career?”
James exchanges glances with Cyril and his cheeks flush slightly—just like his sister’s do when she gets angry. The two of them look so similar and yet, in my eyes, they couldn’t be more different.
“You’re the one who ought to have been thinking,” Cyril spits.
