Emma's Six- The Final Year

The End of School

It is the middle of July, and we are sitting in our last lesson at school. It is an average classroom for the twenty-first century. Still, it is nearly silent despite the number of students in it. For those of us in year ten, we still have one more year to go. But we will prepare for our GCSEs, taking practice papers and revising. Our form tutor, Mr Cunningham, tells us it's critical we get our GCSEs right; they are our way to get the lives we want.

I stare out of the window as the teacher talks. A lot of the students aren't paying him any attention. Besides, it is the last lesson before the summer. Why would students want to waste it by paying attention to a teacher? As I look out onto the playground, my mind wanders to my GCSEs. I already have one science GCSE. I hope the rest of my GCSEs will have impressive results.

But will they help me get the life I want? For me, GCSEs will not determine whether I get a crown or not. GCSEs will not play a factor in my job at White Star Line. After year eleven, my GCSEs will mean nothing to me. Besides, there are more important things I need to focus on, like keeping history on track, so my friends and I will exist. Okay, the other queens will exist, but they will live and die in Tudor England. They will never get the chance to live their lives in the twenty-first century. But it is not just my fellow queens I think about now. If I get something wrong, Sky will cease to exist. The Bane may never create Luke, the best brother I could ask for.

As I think of Luke, I glance over at him. As usual, he is one of the few that give their full attention to the teacher. His blue eyes stare intently at the board, and he scribbles a few notes down. He finally meets my gaze. 'Why aren't you paying attention?'
'It's the last lesson of school,' I whisper back. 'Besides, none of this will matter eventually.'
'Yes, it will. Our GCSEs will determine whether we go to the sixth form here or if we go elsewhere.'
'My future's already decided; I have no say in what I do. So, what is the point for me to do my GCSEs anyway?'
'You will regret saying that.' Luke turns back to the teacher.

I open my bag to locate the book I brought to school with me. It is a book about the Titanic- I know I wanted to keep away from it, but I cannot hold it off for much longer. Within a year, I will be in 1509. At that point, I can't rely on history books for support. I will be walking into the Tudor Court almost blind. I need to get all the help I can now, or it will all be for nothing. I can't fail my mission, not when billions of lives are at stake, including my own.

The bell finally rings, and everyone starts packing up. Anne is cheering as she finishes packing her bag. 'Roll on summer!'
'We'll be back before you know it.' Catalina pushes her chair under the table. 'Besides, aren't we supposed to study this summer? We only have months to prepare for our GCSEs.'
'Spoilsport.' Anne heads towards the door, followed by her cousins and Anna.
'Do you think I'm a spoilsport?' Catalina asks Clyde.
'Absolutely not! Anne's just pulling your leg. Come on, or they'll beat us out!' Clyde grabs his backpack, and he and Rani walk out the door. Catalina, Luke, and I follow behind.

Hundreds of students are in the playground, many of them starting to walk home. Some are waiting to catch the bus or walking towards their parents. As expected, someone is waiting for us. Since Harry came back, he started walking us to and from school. He said he wanted to make sure we're safe, but I think most of it is because he wants to spend as much time with Catalina as possible. Honestly, I don't blame him. Catalina mourned him for decades, and she deserves as much happiness as she can get.

But today, another person stands beside Harry. Both men have their hands behind their backs and seem deep in conversation. While Harry is wearing his usual white shirt and black tie with matching trousers, the man he's talking to looks out of place, and I don't just mean looking out of place in the playground. He is wearing a navy reefer jacket with matching trousers and a cap on his head. Most of us stop walking to try and take the situation in, but Anne doesn't. She bounds right up to Harry. 'Hey, French Fries,' she says, calling him the name almost all the queens started using since he returned, 'who's your friend?'
'Hilarious, Boleyn.' Harry chuckles. 'Do you not recognise him?'
Anne looks between Harry and the man beside him. As the man turns, I see a gold glitter on his hat. It's a logo that's become so familiar to me it's almost burned into my brain. His cap has the White Star Line logo on it. 'Hello, Annie,' the voice says.