The Story of us

Chapter Six: This means war

That night I lay on the couch bundled up in three layers while my family watched the news. I hadn't said much to any of them; I was still too miserable to talk. I stared at the news reporter as she babbled on, and only started listening when I saw the Kensington College school logo appear in the little news box behind her head.

"The nation's finest school and internationally held in highest regard, Kensington College has always prided itself in its academic and social achievements. But recent rumours on the internet have started that one of the senior students in this top-notch institution has actually fallen pregnant and still attending classes - "

"Hey!" both Eleanor and James cried as Mum attempted to cover both their ears at once.

"Such a thing happening in such an esteemed school!" Mum said, shaking her head.

"...is really quite distressing for a school with stringent policies upholding appropriate moral and social behaviour. No news yet about how Principal Meyer is addressing these concerns."

Appropriate moral and social behaviour? I'll give you the real dirt about what really happens inside those walls, I thought bitterly. Then I sneezed.

"Bless you!" said Eleanor.

"That's really too sad," Mum lamented as Dad changed the channel. "One bad egg amongst hundreds of other decent and hard-working students, and it's not as if Kensington is a small and unknown school. Its reputation will be questioned after this."

"They're teenagers," said Dad reasonably, "This sort of thing happens every now and again."

"But it's Kensington - "

"Just because they're rich doesn't make them any less stupid - or bad - or cruel," I snapped before I could stop myself. My family watched in silence as I stood up and stalked into my room.

I threw myself onto my bed, sick of it all. It's always the rich and powerful that get away with everything...

My dad walked in an hour later. I knew he had stopped Mum from barging in straight away, knowing that I needed time to myself. Dad understood me that way. Sitting on my bed, he said gently, "Are you alright, Layla?"

I sat up, feeling a little ashamed about my outburst. "Yeah," I said quietly, managing a smile. "I'm just tired. And I think I'm getting sick."

"Mum says you've been a bit down lately," Dad said, sounding uncertain of my reaction. I grimaced. It was just like him to pretend he hadn't noticed it either. The corner of his mouth quirked, "Are they giving you a hard time?"

I looked at my oblivious father. You have no idea, Dad...

I was a terrible liar so I couldn't outright deny it, but there was no way I was going to let my parents know exactly what was happening to me. Yeah, Dad, I'm sort of the sole target of the entire school. Beakers, eggs, books and pens have been thrown at me and today someone stole my uniform, but don't you worry.

So instead I just said, "A little, but they'll come through."

It took Dad a moment to smile in response; he saw through my lie, but not entirely - he knew I was suffering, but he would never know how much. I would make sure of that.

"Alright, Layls," he said, patting me on the shoulder, "You show them what you're made of." I smiled back, "Thanks, Dad." He made to leave the room, but then he paused at my desk and picked up my violin.

"You know, if things get out of hand, you can tell Mum or I... but I know that's not your style, because it's not mine either," Dad mumbled and I grinned. He walked back and held out the violin to me.