Grace

Chapter 48

In double literature the next day Ben sat with me again. He didn't say anything, didn't even look at me. He hadn't looked at anyone all day. I didn't know what to do, but in the hope that he'd feel better for it, I crossed my ankle over his. He shuffled a bit closer which I took as a good sign and then he put his hand on my thigh which made me feel a whole lot better about this whole situation.

He did his work quietly, as usual, but with less gusto. I got on with mine like normal and didn't fuss over him or really pay him too much attention after that initial appraisal. He was here, he was in the room and he was responding to me. I had a feeling it was all I was going to get out of him, but that was ok. At least he hadn't gone catatonic like Clara.

She was always in my mind. Hovering there on the side lines, waiting for a moment to take over. Sometimes I wanted to let my worry for her eat me away, it was a different worry to what I had for Ben, it wasn't dealing with my own churning emotions or lack of sleep. It wasn't good. But it was different. I didn't give in though. It was a weakness to give in to things like that and I was not weak. Sometimes I wanted to be, but I wasn't.

When the lesson ended Ben packed away and quickly left the room. Everyone looked at me.

"I have no idea," I said and walked out too.

I did not need to be stared at right now. I did not need everyone looking at me like I was some problem fixing saviour.

What I did do was call home during chambers. I shut myself in my room, sat on my bed and wore my poncho.

"Hello?" Dad asked.

"Hey, Dad," I said trying to sound happy.

"What's up?"

I sighed. "Want a list? Can I just have a half hour pick me up? What's my aunt like?"

"Vicky is as awesome and sarcastic as I remember." He sounded rather smug and slightly awed. "I don't know how a seven year old understood sarcasm, but... well, she's not lost it. She told me how the guard manhandled her down the street."

"He manhandled her?" I demanded. "Why?"

"He was under the impression that she was a terrorist."

"Ah," I said and bit my lip.

"Grace?"

"Um, that might be my fault."

He sighed. "Do I want to know?"

"She stared at me in the park and then she disappeared and then she was here and I've never seen her here before and Eton isn't that big, you know?" I stressed. "And I was still jumpy and I keep hearing explosions and –"

"What?" he asked sharply.

I sighed. "I really don't want to talk about that. Master MacLachlan says it'll fade."

Quietly he asked, "Has it?"

"A bit. Will you tell her I'm sorry?"

"Yeah. Course I will. What about you? Anything to be excited about?"

"OhmygoshIdidn'ttellyou! GabriellaBrown'swirtignmusicformeandI'mplayinginherconcertandit'sgoingtobeamaszing!"

Dad laughed, a rich, throaty laugh what was warm and undid all the tension in my back. I slouched and took my boots off.

"I'm not Sonic!" he laughed. "Normal speed?"

I told him about the concert and checked my emails to see if I had one from the composer. I did. I read it aloud to Dad and heard him groan when I told him that I needed a different dress for each performance.