Save Us

Machine Translated by Google
In nh everything
1. Title 2.
About this book 3.
Dedication 4.
Playlist 5.
Quote 6. 1
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8. 3
9. 4 1
0. 5 1
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2. 7 1
3.81
4. 9 1
5. 1 0
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3 6. E pilo g 3
7. D anksagung 3 8.
Die A uto rin 3 9. Die
R omanevon M ona K astenb ei LYX 4 0. I mpressum
MONA BOX
SAVE US
Roman
To this book
Ruby is in shock: she has been suspended from Maxton Hall College because she is said to be having an affair with her history teacher. From
In one second, her dream of studying at Oxford vanished into thin air. But that's not all: James, of all people
seems to be responsible for the photos of her and Mr Sutton that are circulating. Ruby can't believe it. She and James have been through so much
together, overcome so many obstacles together - would he really do that to her? However, it quickly becomes clear that there is more to it than it initially
seems. And while Ruby fights to be able to graduate despite everything, James is once again in danger of breaking under the responsibilities to his
family. Are the worlds in which
Are they too different in how they live? Or can they save each other, even if all the signs seem to be against them?
For Anna
Playlist
A Day to be Certain – Gersey
You – Keaton Henson
Surrender – Natalie Taylor

The Tide – Niall Horan
Dream In A Dream – TEN
In My Blood – Shawn Mendes

Fallin’ All In You – Shawn Mendes
The Shortchange – Thomston
Bill Murray – Phantogram
Critical – Jonas Brothers

Do esn’t today feel like a day to be certain?
Certain, yet to decide.
GERSEY, A DAY TO BE CERTAIN

Graham
My grandfather always asked me: When the day comes when you lose everything, what will you do? I never really thought about the answer to that question, but always said what first came to
my mind at that moment.
is.
When I was six years old and my brother intentionally broke my toy excavator, it was like: Then I'll become the excavator
repair.
When we were ten, and we moved from Manchester to near London, I defiantly said: I'll just find some new friends.
And when my mum died and I, as a seventeen-year-old, tried to be strong for my dad and my brother: We will
do that.
Even then, giving up was not an option for me.
But now, at almost twenty-four, in this office where I suddenly feel like a criminal, I no longer have an answer.
At this moment my situation seems hopeless, my future uncertain. I don't know what to do next.
I pull open the squeaky drawer of the heavy cherry wood desk and dig out the pens and notepads that are inside
found their place there last year. My movements are slow, my arms leaden. I have to hurry: I
should leave the building before the lunch break is over.
You are suspended with immediate effect. I forbid you from having any contact with students at Maxton Hall. If you violate this ban, you will be reported to the police.
The pens fall out of my hand and land with a clatter on the floor.
Holy crap.
I bend down, pick them up and throw them carelessly with the rest of my belongings, which I have stored in a box. It is a wild jumble of notes, textbooks, my grandfather's old globe and teaching
materials that I have copied for tomorrow and should now throw away but cannot bring myself to do so.
I look around the office. The shelves are empty, only a few scraps of paper on the desk and the dirty pad suggest that I was correcting papers here just a few hours ago.
It's your own fault, a spiteful voice sounds in my head.
I rub my throbbing temple and then check all the drawers and compartments in the desk one last time. I shouldn't delay my departure any longer than necessary, but it takes more strength
to leave this room than I thought it would.
I made the decision weeks ago to look for a job at another school so I could be with Lydia.
But there is still a huge difference between leaving the employment relationship on your own terms and
to be escorted out by security.
I swallow hard and take the coat from the wooden coat rack. I mechanically put it on, then I grab the box and go to the door. Without looking back again, I leave the office.
Questions are tumbling around in my head: Does Lydia know yet? How is she? When will I see her next? What should I
do now? Will a school ever hire me as a teacher again? What if not?
But there's no way I can fathom the answers to that now. Instead, I push back the panic that is rising in me and walk down the hallway towards the office to hand in my bunch of keys. Students
walk past me, some of them greet me
friendly. A painful stabbing fills my abdomen. I only manage to return her smile with difficulty. I really enjoyed teaching here.
I turn into the office hallway and suddenly it feels like someone has poured a bucket of ice water over my head. I stop so abruptly that someone bumps into me from behind and mumbles
an apology. But I'm barely listening - my gaze is focused on the tall, strawberry-blond young man to whom I owe this entire situation.
James Beaufort doesn't bat an eyelid when he sees me. On the contrary, he looks completely unconcerned - as if he hadn't just destroyed my life.
I knew what he was capable of. And I knew that it was not a good idea to turn him against me. "He and his friends are unpredictable," Lexington warned me on my first day at school. "Be careful." I
hardly believed his words.
I paid attention to this because I already knew the other side of the story. Lydia had told me how much this boy suffers from his family's legacy, how closed he is even towards his twin sister.
Looking back, I feel so stupid for not having been more careful. I should have known that James would do anything for Lydia.
My professional ruin is probably no more than a trivial matter in his daily routine.
Next to James is Cyril Vega, who I was fortunate enough to never have to teach. I don't know if I would have been able to maintain a professional facade. Every time I see him, an image of him and
Lydia appears before my eyes. How they leave school together and get into a Rolls-Royce. How they laugh together. How he hugs her and comforts her, whereas I was never able to do that
after her mother died.
After a moment, I grit my teeth and continue on my way, the box tucked under my arm. I
I tighten my hand around the key in my coat pocket the closer I get to them. They have interrupted the conversation they were having and are watching me, their faces two hard, impenetrable masks.
I stop in front of the office door and turn to James. "Are you happy now?"
He doesn't respond, which causes the anger inside me to continue to boil up.
"What were you thinking?" I ask, looking at him expectantly. Again he doesn't answer. "Do you actually realize that you are destroying lives with your childish pranks?"
James exchanges a look with Cyril, and his cheeks turn a shade of red, just like his sister does when she gets angry. They look so damn similar, but in my opinion they couldn't be more different.
"You're the one who should have thought about it before," Cyril spits.
His eyes are even angrier than James's, and it occurs to me that they probably came up with a plan together to get me kicked out of school.
Cyril's look leaves no doubt that of the two of us, he is the one with the power. He can do anything to me, no matter
I'm older than him. He won and he knows it too. The victory is written all over his face and is reflected in his proud posture.
I let out a resigned laugh.
"I'm surprised you can still laugh," he continues. "It's over. You’ve been exposed – do you realize that?”
I close my hand around the key chain, so tightly that the little metal teeth cut into my skin. Does this rich kid really think I don't know that? I don't know that no one will be interested in when
and where Lydia and I met?
That no one will believe us if we say we knew and loved each other before my time at Maxton Hall? And we ended our relationship the moment we knew I was going to be her teacher? Of course
I know that. From now on and forevermore, I will be the disgusting guy who had an affair with a student when he was first starting out as a teacher.
The thought makes me sick.
Without giving them another look, I go into the office. I take the key out of my jacket pocket, slam it
on the counter and turn on my heel. As I walk past the guys again, I see out of the corner of my eye how Cyril hands James a cell phone. "Thanks for that, man," I hear him say, then I look away
and walk as fast as I can towards the exit. I only vaguely notice that James is getting loud behind me.
Every step hurts, every breath seems like an impossible task. A rushing noise fills my ears, drowning out almost all sounds. The laughter of the students, their echoing footsteps, the
creaking of the double doors through which I entered Maxton Hall
leave and step into the unknown.
Ruby
I feel like I'm in a daze.
When the bus driver tells me we've reached the last stop, I have a moment where I don't know what that means - until I realise that I have to get off if I don't want to go all the way back to Pemwick.
I have no memory of the last 45 minutes, I was so lost in thought.
My limbs feel heavy and tingly at the same time as I walk down the steps and step outside. I cling to the straps of my backpack with both hands as if they could give me support. Unfortunately,
this feeling doesn't help me
As if I were caught in a whirlwind from which there was no escape and no longer knew which way was up or down.
All this can't really have happened. I can't have been kicked out of school. My mother can't really believe
I was having an affair with a teacher. My dream of Oxford can't have just vanished into thin air.
I think I'm losing my mind. My breathing is getting faster and my fingers are cramping. I feel sweat running down my back, and at the same time I have goose bumps all over my body. I feel
dizzy. I close my eyes and
I'm trying to get my breathing under control again.
When I open it, I no longer feel like I'm going to throw up at any moment. For the first time since I got off the bus, I notice my surroundings. I've traveled three stops too far and find myself at
the other end of Gormsey. Under normal circumstances I would be terribly annoyed with myself. But instead I feel almost relieved because there's no way I can go home now. Not after
Mom looked at me like that.
There is only one person I want to talk to right now. A person I trust unconditionally and who knows that I would never do something like that.
Human.
I start walking towards the local high school. It can't be long until school ends because a few younger students are already coming towards me. A group of boys try to push each other off the
narrow sidewalk and into the bushes. As
When they see me, they pause for a moment and then walk past me with their heads bowed, as if they were afraid that I might reprimand them for their behavior at any moment.
The closer I get to Gormsey High School, the stranger I feel. I went to this school myself two and a half years ago. I don't miss the time, but standing here again now feels like a trip into the
past. Only that
Back then, no one turned around and stared at me because I was wearing a private school uniform.
I go up the last steps to the front door. The walls of the building, which were probably once plastered white, are yellowed
The paint is peeling off the windows. It is obvious that no money has been invested in this school in recent years.
I push past the students streaming towards me from inside and try to fit in among the many faces
to find something familiar. It doesn't take long before I spot a girl with two pigtails tightly braided on her head leaving school with a boy.
“Maisie!” I call to her.
Maisie stops and looks around. When she recognizes me, she raises her eyebrows questioningly. She motions for her boyfriend to wait a moment and then snakes her way to me. “Ruby,” she
greets me. »Hey. What's up?"
»Do you know where Ember is?« I ask. My voice sounds completely normal and I wonder how that can be when everything inside me is
is broken.
“I thought Ember was sick,” Maisie replies, frowning. "She wasn't at school today."
»Was?«
That can't be. Ember and I left the house at the same time this morning. If she wasn't at school - where the
Hell did she go?
»She wrote to me that she was in bed with a sore throat.« Maisie shrugs and looks over her shoulder
to her boyfriend. "She's probably just home and you missed each other. Listen, I have a date now. Would it be okay if I...?"
I nod quickly. "Sure. Thanks."
She waves to me again, then goes down the stairs and links her arm with her companion. I watch them both go, my thoughts racing. If Ember had had a sore throat this morning, I would have
noticed. She looked
didn't look sick and didn't act strange either. At breakfast everything was as usual.
I dig my cell phone out of my pocket. Three missed calls from James appear on the display. I delete the notification with hot cheeks.
I'm the one who took the photos, his voice rings in my head, but I try to stop the heavy feeling in my chest
to ignore. I go into my favorites and click on Ember's name. It rings, so her cell phone isn't turned off. However, it works
She doesn't answer even after the tenth ring. I hang up and then open a new message.
Please get in touch. I need to talk to you urgently.
I send it off and stuff the phone back into the pocket of my blazer, then go downstairs and turn toward the school one last time. I feel incredibly out of place. There is no doubt that I no longer belong
here. But the same
now also applies to Maxton Hall.
I don't belong anywhere anymore, it occurs to me.
With this thought I leave the school grounds. Without thinking about it, I turn left and walk down the main street towards our neighborhood, even though our home is the last place I want to be
right now. I wouldn't be able to stand it if Mom looked at me again with the disappointment she did in Lexington's office.
What happened is playing on a loop in my head. I hear the principal's voice over and over again. How with just a few words he took away my entire future, everything I had been working towards
for years.
As I pass a row of cafes and small shops, I catch snippets of conversation from students heading home before and after me. They're talking about homework, getting angry at teachers, or
laughing about something that happened during the first break. I'm numb to the fact that I no longer have anyone to have such conversations with. I have no choice but to walk along here, letting
the sun mock me, with the deep certainty that there's nothing left in my life. No school, no family, no friend.
Tears well up in my eyes and I try in vain to blink them away. I need my sister. I need someone to be mine
says that everything will be okay again, even if I can't believe it myself.
Just as I'm about to take out my phone again, a car stops on the street next to me. I can out of the corner of my eye
recognize that it is a dark green, rickety frame with rusty rims and dirty windows. I don't know anyone who has a
That car is driving, so I keep walking without paying any attention to it.
But the car follows me. I turn to the side to take a closer look as the window on the driver's side is rolled down.
I definitely didn't expect the face that appears behind it. I pause in surprise.
“Ruby?” Wren asks. Apparently I look as terrible as I feel, because Wren squints and slouches
Look out the window a bit to get a closer look at me. "Is everything alright?"
I press my lips tightly together. Wren Fitzgerald is pretty much the last person I want to talk to right now. Especially not when
I think more carefully about why he is looking at me like that. I'm sure that word of my expulsion has already spread around Maxton Hall. A wave of uncomfortable heat washes over me and I
walk on without answering him.
A car door slams behind me and shortly afterwards I can hear quick footsteps. "Ruby, wait!"
I stop and close my eyes. Then I take one, two, three deep breaths. I try not to let on how confused I am and what's going on before I turn to Wren.
"You look like you're going to pass out at any moment," he says, his brow furrowed. "Do you need help?"
I snort quietly. "Help?" I croak. "From you?"
Wren then presses her lips together tightly. He looks down briefly, then up again. 'Alistair told me what happened. The
is really shit.«
I stiffen and look away. So it's exactly as I thought. Word of the matter has already spread at school.
Just great. I look at the facade of a fitness center across the street. Some people exercise on treadmills, others lift weights. Maybe I should hide in there. I'm sure no one will find me there.
“Great,” I murmur.
I want to turn away from him again and move on, but something makes me hesitate. Maybe it is the fact that Wren is not
drove here in a limousine, but in a car that looks as if it would fall apart at any moment. Maybe it's the look in his eyes that seems serious and sincere and not like he's joking with me. Or maybe it's
the fact that we're facing each other here in Gormsey - the last place I would have expected to find someone like Wren Fitzgerald.
»What are you actually doing here?«
Wren shrugs. "I happened to be in the area."
I raise an eyebrow. "In Gormsey. Coincidentally."
“Listen,” Wren changes the subject. "I refuse to believe James had anything to do with it."
“Did he send you to tell me that?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Wren shakes her head. "No. But I know James. He is my best friend. He wouldn’t do something like that.”
"They're pictures that look like I'm making out with a teacher, Wren. And James admitted to taking them."
"Maybe he made them. But that doesn't mean he sent them to Lexington."
I press my lips together.
"James wouldn't do that," Wren says urgently.
"Why are you so sure?" I ask.
"Because I know how James feels about you. He would never do anything to harm you."
He says this with such certainty that it stirs my thoughts and feelings all over again. Would it change things if James didn't submit the photos? But why did he make them in the first place?
"I want to know what this is all about," says Wren. "I'm going to see him now. Come with me, Ruby. Then you can
See for yourself.”
I stare at Wren. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he's lost his mind. But I hesitate.
This day has already reached its absolute lowest point. Things can't get any worse because I have nothing left to lose.
I ignore the alarm bells that start ringing in my head at that moment. Without thinking about it, I walk over to Wren's rusty car and get in.
2
Lydia
The news that Graham was suspended has spread like wildfire throughout Maxton Hall. It was unbearable standing outside the school waiting for Percy to finally pick me up, especially since I
couldn't get hold of James or Ruby - by Graham
not to mention. It makes me sick to think about how he must be feeling right now, and it drives me crazy not knowing how he is.
When I finally arrive home, I go straight to my room and try to call him again. This time he answers, and
I gasp in relief.
"Graham?"
"Yes." His voice is toneless.
"I'm so sorry," I blurt out as I pace my room. My whole body is charged with adrenaline and my heart is pounding fast and hard against my chest. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this."
I can hear Graham inhale sharply. "It's not your fault, Lydia."
Yes, it is. It is my fault that Graham and Ruby got kicked out of school. »I will go to Principal Lexington this afternoon
drive and clear it up. Everything will be okay, believe me. I’ll take the blame and…”
“Lydia,” he interrupts me gently.
»Ruby has also been suspended. She absolutely doesn't deserve this. I can’t allow her to be punished for something she didn’t do.”
"Lydia, I..." Before he can finish the sentence, the phone is ripped from my hand. I let out a little scream in shock and turn around.
Dad stands across from me and looks at me with cold eyes. He lowers his gaze to the glowing screen of my phone. Then he raises a finger and ends the call.
"Hey! What...?" I begin.
“You will never speak to that teacher again,” my father interrupts me in an icy voice. "Did you understand that?"
I open my mouth, but the coldness in Dad's voice and the angry look in his eyes prevent me from saying a word.
He knows.
Dad knows about Graham and me.
Oh Good.
"Dad..." I whisper desperately.
At the word, his face twists into an almost painful grimace. "If your mother were still alive, she would be ashamed of you."
He says it so calmly that it takes a second for the words to sink in to me in their full meaning. They hit me like a blow and I back away from him and his anger. “Please let me explain, Dad, it's
really not what you think.
Graham and I knew each other before, we...«
Suddenly my father raises his arm and smashes the phone against the wall with full force. It shatters into pieces and lands on the floor in black shards and scattered pieces of plastic. I stare at
him in disbelief.
“I'm telling you one last time: you will never speak to this man again. Do you understand that?” His voice is now shaking with anger.
"I'm trying to explain to you that it's..."
“I don’t want to hear your explanations, Lydia,” he interrupts.
I hate it when he's like that. That he doesn't want to listen to me, even though he knows I have something to say.
»I have not protected your reputation by all means, only for you to make the next reckless decision. That will
Stop immediately, understand?"
It feels like someone threw ice water on my face. It takes me a moment to find my voice again. “What do you mean – maintained my reputation?”
Dad's expression hardens. "I have made sure that this family's name will not be damaged any further. You should
Be happy about it instead of looking at me like that.”
My throat feels tight. “It was you?” I croak hoarsely. “You gave the pictures to Principal Lexington?”
Dad's cold eyes are fixed on my face. "Yes."
I feel like I'm running out of air to breathe. Nausea rises inside me and the room begins to spin. With one hand I reach
reaching for the chair in front of me to support myself.
My own father is to blame for Graham losing his job and James' girlfriend being suspended.
"Why did you do that?" I whisper.
The need to explain my situation to him has crumbled into dust. There is only room inside me for disbelief - and for unspeakable anger that spreads through my veins faster by the second.
“Because you could destroy this family - don't you care what you've put at risk with your reckless behavior? “Does this family mean nothing to you?” asks my father.
»Family? You don't give a damn about this family!« I hiss and clench my hands into fists. My arms are shaking, and
I feel like I'm going to explode at any moment. “The only thing you care about is money. You don't give a shit about how James and I have been doing since Mum died. And now you stand in front of
me and demand that I be happy that you kicked my boyfriend out of school
let?"
Dad's nostrils flare briefly at the word "friend," but otherwise his face shows no emotion. "I would do more to save this family name."
His calm voice is driving me crazy. My breathing is getting faster and faster and I'm digging my nails into the palms of my hands so hard that I'm sure I'll soon start bleeding.
"You should be grateful to me, Lydia," he adds.
My anger reaches its peak. I can no longer hold back the words, they bubble out of me uncontrollably. »You
"Maybe kicked out of school, but you can't cut him out of my life!" I scream at the top of my lungs.
"Of course I can." Dad turns around and wants to leave the room.
But I'm not finished yet.
"No, you can't. I'm pregnant."
He stops on his heel. As if in slow motion, he turns back to me. "What?"
I jut my chin defiantly. "I'm pregnant. From Graham.”
It's strange to watch his reaction. For a moment he just looks at me and blinks several times in a row, like the strange-looking man in that GIF that's been circulating for months. Then his
shoulders start to shake as if
He has difficulty maintaining steady breathing, and red spots appear on his cheeks, forehead, and neck.
I actually thought I had already experienced all forms of Dad's anger. James and I learned early on to recognize the smallest
to correctly interpret his facial expressions and his posture and to get out of there in time.
But I've never seen him like this before.
His eyes are on me, one second, another, and I slowly take a step back because I can't tell what's going to happen. But to my surprise, Dad turns around and leaves my room without another word.
He slams the door so hard that I involuntarily flinch. I press a hand to my chest and take a deep breath. My pulse is racing, I can feel my heart pounding beneath my hand.
Not even ten seconds later, the door suddenly opens again - so forcefully that the knob hits the wall and certainly leaves a dent. My father comes back into the room and stands in front of me.
“Does he know?” he asks so quietly that I can barely understand him.
The question catches me completely off guard and it takes me several seconds before I manage to shake my head. "No, I …"
"Good," Dad interrupts me. Without giving me another look, he strides through my room. He rips open the door to my walk-in closet and enters the small room. I hear a loud rumble.
I rush to the door and stare at my father, who has obviously just pulled one of my large suitcases down from the top shelf of the closet. He is currently reaching for a travel bag, which
he fires loudly onto the ground next to it. He kicks the lid of the suitcase open with his foot and then starts randomly tearing items of clothing off the shelves and hangers
to throw them in.
"What are you doing?"
Dad doesn't react. As if in a frenzy, he grabs T-shirts, blouses, pants, underwear, bags and shoes. His hair stands up through the
jerky movements in all directions, the spots on his face and neck become darker and darker. Even as the suitcase
When it's full, it doesn't stop and the things end up in a messy pile on the bag and the floor next to it.
“Dad, what are you doing?” I yell, taking a step forward to get him to stop. I reach for his arm, but he pulls away. The force of his movement causes me to stagger back, and I only just manage to
hold myself with one hand
hold the door frame.
At that moment James bursts into the room.
"What's going on here?" he asks. His eyes are worried as he looks me up and down to see if everything is okay. Then
he spots Dad in my closet and his eyes widen.
“What are you doing, Dad?” he asks.
Dad turns on his heel and points at James. "You knew about this?" he asks.
James frowns. "About what?"
»What am I even asking? Of course he knew about it," Dad murmurs to himself. For a moment he looks at the chaos around him
has made a mess around himself, then he bends down and starts to stuff the clothes that have landed next to the suitcase into the travel bag with violent movements.
"Why are you packing my things, Dad?" I ask hoarsely.
»You move out immediately.«
A wave of nausea washes over me. "What?" I gasp.
James puts a hand on my back, as if to show me that he is with me.
»We have already had to contend with enough headlines this year. I won't allow the well-being of my company to be jeopardized just because you're stupid and let a teacher get you pregnant!' Dad
shouts the last words in my direction.
I move closer to James and his hand tightens on my back. I can feel how much willpower it takes for him to
It costs just to hold back.
His voice sounds carefully calm as he tries to respond to our father. "You can't just pretend it didn't happen."
Dad tugs at the zipper of the duffel bag. A piece of fabric has become wedged in it and an unpleasant rattling sound is heard. I twitch
together.
“And if I can do that,” he groans and closes the bag with a violent tug. Then he turns to the suitcase. He puts one knee on the lid as he zips it up. »You're going to your aunt's. And immediately. No
one can know about your...your circumstances.”
I gasp for air. “W-what?”
"You can't do that," says James.
Dad pauses and looks at us. It is an almost grotesque image, the way he kneels on my silver suitcase, breathing heavily, with disheveled hair and a sweaty shirt. "I'm the only one in this house
who still has his wits about him. Do you really think that I'm going to let you..." He points to my stomach. "... continue to represent this family? Do you have any idea what light that sheds on us? On
Beaufort?«
"That's what you're talking about?" James' voice trembles. "Just that?"
"Naturally. Why else?”
"You should care about your daughter, damn it!"
Dad snorts. “Don’t be so naive, James.” His ice-cold gaze lands on me. »You should have thought about your priorities beforehand
Lydia. You are not acceptable for this family."
The walls of my room are moving towards me. I sway against James and cling to him.
"You can't exile Lydia and pretend she doesn't exist," James says angrily. I feel his hand shaking on my back.
Dad stands up and pulls up the suitcase. With a bright red face, he takes it by the handle, grabs the travel bag and then comes along
brisk steps towards us.
James stands in his way.
"Step aside, James."
“Even if you send Lydia away, the public will get wind of it in a few months at the latest. It won't change anything, you
“You’re just destroying our family!”
A second passes. Then Dad drops the duffel bag, raises his hand and...
My reaction is instinctive.
I throw myself in front of James as Dad punches me. He hits me in the cheek and ear, so hard that my head snaps around and
black dots appear in front of my eyes. There is a noise in my ears that is getting louder and more intense, and suddenly I know
no longer where is up and down. I lose my balance and try to reach for something to hold me upright. The moment James' arms catch me, my vision goes black.
I don't know how much time has passed when I regain consciousness. Seconds or minutes? I think I'm lying on that one
Floor. Loud voices reach my ears, increasing the pain in my head. The throbbing in my temple becomes more intense with every second. I try to open my eyes.
Someone kneels next to me and gently shakes my shoulder. James. He says my name several times in a row, sounding a little more desperate each time.
I blink and my surroundings gradually take on solid outlines again. I'm lying in front of the door of my walk-in closet. James has put me on his lap and is stroking my arms. His eyes are wide, but when
he sees that I'm conscious again, he lets out a sigh of relief. Dad is standing next to us, looking down at us, still holding the suitcase in one hand. Maybe it's my imagination, but I think I see a
flash of relief in his eyes too. But only for a split second, because the next moment he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, presses a button and lifts the receiver to his ear.
He looks me in the eyes as he says without any intonation, "Percival? Please come to the first floor and carry the bags from my daughter's room to the car. Lydia will be moving out today."
Then he looks away from James and me, steps over the bags and walks out of the room.
It feels like someone is putting their hands around my neck and squeezing. I gently run my fingers over the spot
who hit me and can no longer hold back the tears.
“It’ll be okay,” James whispers, holding me tightly. "Do not worry. We will sort it out."
However, for the first time in our lives, I don't think my brother can protect me from what's coming.
3
Ruby
"What's up with this car?" I ask Wren after we've been driving in silence for a few minutes on the country road towards Pemwick. The only sound is the music crackling from the speakers. It
started raining out of nowhere a few minutes ago and I'm expecting the thin windshield wipers to stop working at any moment. Or fall off. They squeak louder with every movement. Wren seems to
have gotten used to it, though.
"There have been some... financial changes in the Fitzgerald household," he replies after a short pause. "And that's what gave me George."
I look around the interior of the car again. It doesn't look like a George. To be honest, it doesn't look like anything you'd give a name to. The seats are covered in brown corduroy that has faded in
places and is
which has been eaten into by the smell of cigars and old grandpa. "You really named your car George?"
"Not me. That was... a friend." Wren turns left and then fumbles with the radio, which is the only thing in here
appears to be a toy that is younger than twenty years old. However, it has a loose connection, and Wren has to nudge it after every turn to keep the music playing.
“Ah,” I say, and silence falls between us again. I don't dare ask what exactly he means by "financial changes." Wren and I are basically strangers. We have nothing in common except for this one
event in our past and our friendship with James. I shift restlessly back and forth on the seat. Why did I just get into his car?
Wren gives me a sideways glance, but quickly looks back at the road.
"I've been wanting to talk to you for a while, Ruby," he says suddenly.
I look at him uncertainly. "How come?"
“Because I acted like a total asshole to you. Back then at the party. I should have apologized for that long ago." Wren clears his throat and shakes the radio again, even though we haven't
turned a corner and the music is still tinny
comes from the loudspeakers. "I shouldn't have behaved like that. I was inexperienced and stupid. Now, looking back, I'm ashamed of it. And I'm sorry."
That's the last thing I expected, and it takes a moment for the meaning of his words to really sink in.
I swallow hard. You sound like he's serious, but at the same time I'm skeptical. People don't change from you
Day to day.
"You really offended me when you brought it up at Cyril's party. It didn't seem to me like you were sorry about what happened back then," I say.
"I know. I... was skeptical about you showing up at that party with James, and I wanted to find out why. Somehow I
I made a complete fool of myself. I would never do something like that again, like I did at the party two years ago. I have changed. I hope to be able to prove that to you at some point."
Frowning, I look out the window. Green trees pass us by, with occasional houses and small fields in between.
"I would have kissed you back then even without alcohol," I finally say, looking at Wren. He returns my gaze briefly before looking forward again. "What you did was really not okay. You should
have told me that it wasn't just fruit punch."
»I regret how I behaved. Really. I know how much James cares about you, and that's why you matter to me too. I hope you can forgive me for my behavior someday.”
So I don't know Wren at all. Whatever is going on with him seems to have made him think about a few things.
“Thanks for the apology,” I say after a while.
He nods briefly and concentrates on the road again.
In the silence that follows, my thoughts automatically wander to the photos and the curved B on the envelope addressed to Principal Lexington. I remember the look on James's face when he
admitted to taking the photos.
I trusted him. I thought I knew his true self. Could I really have been so wrong about him? But why would he want to do that to me? After everything we've been through together in the last few months?
The more I think about it, the less the different pieces of the puzzle fit together. This entire situation is so unreal. As
When I got up this morning, the plan was to discuss the next event with the team and meet James in the library
learn. And now? Now I'm sitting in Wren Fitzgerald's car because he offered to help me.
"Why do you even care if James and I get along?" I ask him. My tone is more suspicious than I intended, and I see Wren's shoulders stiffen. "That came out wrong," I add quickly. "I just thought
it was annoying
More like James spending time with me.”
Wren puts on her indicator and we turn onto another country road. It's now no more than ten minutes until we get to James. When the music stops this time, Wren leaves it off.
“It has nothing to do with you,” he says after a moment. "I just couldn't understand how, after more than fifteen years of friendship, we could suddenly no longer be important to James."
"That's not true. Your friendship means more to him than anything else.”
Wren smiles. »For a brief moment I doubted it. “Probably because I had so much on my mind.”
I nod thoughtfully.
"And I..." Wren searches for a moment for the right words. "I've never seen James like I have in the last few weeks. Most people don't know this, but he's been really unhappy for a long time. His father
is an asshole, and although James has never said it to me, if he had a choice, he would never work at Beaufort . There's nothing he can do about that, but since he met you
Knows him, he's somehow... more relaxed. Quieter.”
I feel my face getting warm.
"I want him to be happy." He gives me a look. “And you make him happy.”
I search for the right words, but Wren isn't finished yet.
“When Alistair told me about your suspension earlier and then I saw you in Gormsey, I wanted you
just help. I have no ulterior motive here. Word of honor.”
"Okay," I say.
"Besides..." Wren clears her throat. "...I can understand James much better now. Maybe that has something to do with it."
I want to ask him what he means by that, but at that moment we're driving to the Beaufort property. Wren rolls down his window and I expect him to press the bell on the side of the gate, next
to which there is a small display on which you can see the visitor via camera. To my surprise, however, he takes out a key card from the small compartment above his sun visor and places it on
a shiny black surface next to the display. The gate slowly opens and we drive up the driveway.
My stomach lurches when I see the limousine in the distance standing in front of the entrance to the mansion.
“What’s going on?” I hear Wren mutter.
Only then did I notice that the trunk was open and Percy was putting large bags in it.
I swallow hard. Something isn't right here.
Wren parks the car and we get out. At that moment Lydia appears in the entrance to the house. She has covered her face with both hands and her shoulders are shaking. James
stands next to her, his face ashen, his arm around her shoulders. He whispers something in her ear, making Lydia nod. The sight reminds me of the images from the funeral and I feel a chill.
Wren and I exchange a worried look, then start moving. Just as we reach the stairs leading up to the entrance, Mortimer Beaufort appears in the front door. His steely gaze hits me with full
force, but he can't stop me from climbing the steps to Lydia.
James' eyes widen when he sees me. "Ruby," he whispers. "What -"
I just shake my head and gently touch Lydia's arm. "Lydia," I whisper.
She drops her hands. Her cheeks are streaked with tears, but that's not the worst part: red and slightly bluish spots discolor one half of her face. My heart gives a painful lurch and I look
up at Mr. Beaufort as if of its own accord.
He doesn't bat an eyelid. I didn't think I could hate this man more than I already do, but at this moment I want to attack him and make him feel the pain he's causing James and Lydia.
"What happened?" Wren asks next to me, looking back and forth between James and Lydia. "What are the suitcases for?"
The two look like they are in shock.
“Lydia, it’s time,” comes Mr. Beaufort’s lofty voice. He walks past us and down the steps to the car. Then he ostentatiously opens the door.
»Dad knows about the pregnancy. “I… I should get out of here,” Lydia manages. "To my aunt."
“Pregnancy?” Wren asks, frowning.
James' grip on Lydia's shoulder tightens.
"I'm pregnant," Lydia whispers. “From Graham Sutton.”
Wren stares at Lydia and opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again, obviously speechless.
»Lydia!« thunders Mr Beaufort.
Panic wells up inside me and I look over my shoulder back to the car. "Is there anything I can do?" I ask. The feeling of farewell is in the air - something I can't handle at all. Especially not when it
hits me so suddenly.
“Is there nothing I can do?” I ask in a panic.
She just shakes her head and wipes her cheeks. "No. I… I’ll get back to you as soon as I have a cell phone again.”
“Okay,” I croak.
She slowly breaks away from James and goes down the stairs. I have never felt so powerless in my life.
"Ruby," James says quietly, and our eyes meet. He hesitantly reaches for my hand and runs his thumb over the back of my hand.
“I swear to you I didn’t send those photos to Lexington.”
My head is full of thoughts and I don't know what to focus on first. James seems to feel the same way.
"I'd love to explain everything to you, but I can't let Lydia go to Beckdale alone with Dad." He squeezes my cold hand.
"Please trust me."
I think about what James and I have built up over the last few months. That we promised each other to always talk openly with each other, to be there for each other and not to allow anything to
come between us.
Now is not the time for a debate. And even though just a few hours ago I thought I'd never be able to look James in the eyes again, I now know that I'm ready to listen to his explanation.
"I can't wait forever," I say. “You really hurt me today.”
"I know. I'm so sorry. But I'm begging you - this one last time," he says quietly.
I nod and then let go of his hand.
James turns to Wren. »The others don't know about the pregnancy. Please keep this to yourself.”
Wren nods briefly.
Then James goes down the stairs and gets into the car with Lydia. Percy closes the door and walks to the driver's side. For a split second our eyes meet across the Rolls-Royce. Percy looks as
sad as I feel.
Then he gets in too, and immediately the car starts. I watch the red taillights until they disappear through the gate, my pulse is racing like crazy.
“Damn,” Wren says.
I can't help but nod silently.

We stand next to each other for a few minutes and stare in the direction in which the Rolls-Royce has disappeared. Then Wren sighs.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s change our minds.”
Alistair
Training today is really bad. James, Wren and Cyril don't show up and none of them have told the coach, which puts the coach in a bad mood. He barks orders at us and chases us around the place
like crazy, and when it's an hour and a half later
is finally over, I make three crosses internally. Completely sweaty, I want to go to the bank to get my bottle, but I
don't get far.
One of the newbies bumps into me violently from the side. He catches me so off guard that I stumble and can barely catch myself. When I look at him admonishingly, he gives me a
challenging look. That is really the last thing I
can need now. I take a threatening step towards him. “Do you have a problem, Kenton?” I ask.
"The coach tortured us today because of your shitty clique," he hisses and spits on the floor next to me.
“And that’s my fault because…?”
"You can make sure that this doesn't happen again. There are still people who take this seriously."
With these words he stomps off towards the changing room. It takes all my effort not to run after him and show him what I think of
his rebelliousness. I grit my teeth and rip open the clasps of the gloves. I pull them off my hands and stuff them into the side of my tracksuit bottoms.
Against my will, my eyes wander to the goal, where Kesh is still collecting the balls and putting them in one of the boxes.
stow away.
Normally I would have been upset about the newbie. Kesh has the ability to calm me down in such situations.
can, simply by listening.
When Kesh listens to you, you feel like you're being taken seriously. He is calm and collected, and his advice is well thought out. That was always one of the qualities I appreciated most
about him, especially since I was the exact opposite of him
am – quick-tempered and impulsive. We complement each other perfectly, which is why Kesh has been my best friend for as long as I can remember
is.
Was, I correct myself mentally.
Kesh was my best friend.
Sometimes I wonder if I should never have gotten involved with him. Maybe we could have saved our friendship that way.
But then I think back to our moments together and feel an echo of the tingling sensations and feelings he triggered in me.
But we're over, and I don't see any way to undo our mistakes. When Kesh hit my brother a few weeks ago, the argument between us escalated. I told Kesh that I can't go on like this anymore and
I can't stand another day of having to act like we're just friends at school when we're just like that every time we're alone
something like a couple. That I also want to kiss him in public and hold his hand when we are with our friends
on the way. And if he can't give me all of this, I would like to go back to the point where we were a year ago. I wanted us to be best friends again. Just best friends. Not more.
Kesh's answer was a calm "Sure," which felt like a slap in the face on the one hand, but also gave me hope on the other
that there can at least be a second chance for our friendship because we have finally sorted things out between us.
But no matter how hard we try to be at ease with one another, it doesn't feel like it's the same since then. There is something between us that I cannot ignore, and it grows stronger the longer I
am in Kesh's presence.
Or the longer I stare at him, which I should definitely stop doing now.
I look away from him and walk to the edge of the training field, where my sports bag is on the bench. With one hand I pick up
the water bottle, with the other my cell phone out. Wren wrote to me.
SOS. Can I come over with Ruby? Some shit happened at the Beauforts and we could use a distraction.
“Fuck,” I mutter. That's what was missing now.
“What’s going on?” Kesh’s voice comes from behind me. He keeps quite a distance, but the hairs on the back of my neck still stand up. I
I concentrate on typing the reply to Wren, then I shove the phone back into my gym bag.
»Wren is coming to me with Ruby.« I turn to Kesh. His gaze is on me and it takes some effort to react
to suppress what my body has on him every damn time.
"Ruby must feel terrible," says Kesh. He takes his things from the bench and together we walk towards the locker room.
"Apparently she had something going on with Sutton and was suspended from school because of it." His skeptical tone tells me that he doesn't believe the rumors at all.
"She definitely wasn't messing around with Sutton."
Kesh looks at me questioningly.
“You were there when James took the photos, right?” I ask. Kesh is a good observer. He can't really miss that
be.
"Yes, but I can't imagine he sent them on. I think there's more to it."
I grumble indecisively. James has done far worse things than forward a few photos, but at the same time I can't for the life of me imagine him doing anything that would hurt Ruby so much.
I clear my throat. "Are you coming with me?"
Kesh stops in the middle of the hallway. He looks at me questioningly. A few strands have come loose from the messy bun he has
always does for training. I want to reach out and put my hand behind his ear. I suppress the impulse and instead grip the water bottle in my fingers so tightly that the plastic cracks.
“Would you like me to be there?” he replies.
Since our fight, Kesh and I have rarely spent time together. I can't even remember the last time we had one
had a real conversation without the others being there. Once we're in the same room, the air between us is charged and I have to pull away, afraid of making the mistake again of committing to the
only thing Kesh can give me: stolen kisses in the dark and eternal secrecy .
But I have hope that soon everything will be the way it used to be and that we will be able to be good friends. No more and no less. So I nod, even though I know that spending the evening with
him probably isn't particularly healthy for my heart.
"The more people, the better." I return his gaze. I'm sure he can see what's going on inside me in my eyes. You learn things like that when you've been friends for
a long time, and Keshav is one of the most empathetic people I know anyway.
Sometimes I wish he had used that gift before he broke my heart.
“Then I’ll come with you,” he says quietly.
"Okay." I clear my throat. "Cool."
"I'm going to take a shower," says Kesh, pointing to the cubicles at the end of the hall.
I feel myself getting warm again, even though my pulse has already calmed down somewhat from training.
I quickly walk past him to the changing rooms. "I'll wait for you outside the hall," I call over my shoulder.
I feel Kesh's calm, knowing gaze on the back of my neck the entire way.
Ruby looks like she's had a very long, tiring day. When she arrived at my place, she collapsed onto my couch with a pale face and hasn't moved since. While we
all wear everyday clothes, she is still in the school uniform. She makes a really sad sight. You can't help but want to take care of them.
Kesh uses his phone to play music on the stereo while I go into the kitchen and check what we have in the fridge. Since Elaine and Fred no longer live at home, Mum and Dad have let some
of the kitchen staff go and cancelled our daily family meals. I'm not sad about the latter. Most of the time I just sat there with cramped limbs while my parents talked to Fred - and
mostly about Fred.
Now I sometimes don't see my family for days, but that doesn't bother me. I like being alone. At least that way I don't have to
pretending and pretending to my parents that their behavior doesn't hurt me.
I take a pre-cooked lasagne out of the fridge and warm it up in the microwave. Then I lift four large pieces onto plates and balance them back into my room. I put
two on the coffee table for me and Ruby, I hand one to Wren, and the
Fourth, I hold it out to Kesh, who is sitting at my desk clicking away on his cell phone. Then I go back and get cutlery and a few glasses, which I also put on the table.
“Here,” I say, holding out a fork to Ruby.
"Thanks." Ruby's voice sounds hollow.
I sit down next to her on the sofa and start shoveling the lasagna into my mouth. As always after training, I feel starved.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Ruby lifts her fork and tentatively takes a bite, then drops the plate back onto her lap. “Are we talking about what happened?” I
ask cautiously. “Or do we ignore it and talk about something else?”
Wren, sitting in the chair across from the couch, lifts his head and looks at Ruby. She just shrugs her shoulders as if she were
it doesn't matter anymore.
"Mortimer threw Lydia out," says Wren.
Kesh raises his head in surprise. "What?"
"I wanted to take Ruby to James's," Wren explains. "But when we got there, the trunk was full to the brim and Lydia was crying.
Then everyone got in and drove away.”
“Fuck,” I utter. “What has Lydia done wrong?”
Ruby and Wren glance at each other and then both stare intently at their plates. Apparently they know something that no one else does
otherwise you should know.
“I already told James we were here,” Wren finally avoids my question. "He'll come here as soon as he gets back."
is."
»Okay.« I eat the rest of my lasagne, even though the thought of how Lydia must be feeling right now makes me lose my appetite.
As I place the plate on the low glass table in front of me, I glance at Ruby. She has not yet finished her food.
always barely touched and instead absentmindedly pokes around in it.
"I heard what happened at school," I say quietly.
Ruby looks up. It's impossible to ignore how difficult it is for her to keep her composure.
“I was there when these pictures were taken, Ruby,” I admit. Anger flashes in their eyes, but I continue before they say anything
can. “James didn’t know you back then. All he wanted with these pictures was to protect himself. But over time you've really grown on him. I don’t think he’s responsible
for what happened today.”
"I have to hear it from him."
I nod. "I can understand that."
Silence spreads between us. At some point Ruby puts her plate down and then looks around my room. Her gaze stays on
a framed picture of James, Cyril, Wren, Kesh and me. We wear our lacrosse uniforms and are from
covered in mud from head to toe. Nevertheless, we are beaming, and James, who is standing in the middle, is holding up the championship trophy that we had just
won for the first time. I can still remember how it felt today. How euphoric we were
were.
My eyes dart to my desk and find Keshav's, as if he had just been waiting for me to look at him.
I stand up abruptly from the couch.
“I need a drink,” I announce, walking over to the dresser where I keep my stash of alcohol. I take out a half-full bottle of whiskey and pour three glasses. I put one
down in front of Wren, and the other I go to Kesh, who, however, has the head
and points to the water bottle that is on the desk next to him.
I look at the two glasses in my hand, uncertain. Then I go back to the couch and hand one to Ruby.
Ruby eyes the glass in my hand. I assume she will refuse, but much to my surprise she grabs it.
Before I can clink glasses with her, she tilts her head back and drinks it in just a few gulps.
I whistle approvingly. Ruby holds the glass out to me again and looks up at me expectantly.
I hesitate for just a second, then I fill it a second time.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Wren asks, looking between me and Ruby.
At that moment, Kesh turns on a song on his phone, the beat of which is fast and rhythmic.
“No,” Ruby and I say at the same time.
I collapse onto the couch and then clink my glass against hers. “Bad ideas.”
For the first time that afternoon, a slight smile spreads across Ruby's lips.
4
Ruby
The music runs through my veins. She fills me from head to toe and makes me want to move. I dance without thinking. I just let myself go.
The feeling is fantastic.
I know that today will bring dire consequences, but I don't care at this very moment. I just want to enjoy this moment while it lasts.
I turn around once. Alistair cheers.
»Whiskey is great!« I announce and turn to Alistair, who is also dancing through the room. He toasts me with the bottle. I
I have no idea where his glass went.
"Truer words have never been spoken," he agrees. "When you're drunk, you're really wise, Ruby."
"Sorry," I say. "I'm always wise."
Alistair grins. »That's true, too.«
I don't know how it happened, but in my eyes Alistair is the sweetest person in the world right now. I suddenly feel like him
so connected. It feels like we have things in common that I was far too blind to see when I was sober.
“Wren,” I say, pulling my phone out of my blazer pocket. “Take a picture of me and Alistair.”
I hold out the cell phone to him. He takes it with a grin.
"Ready?" he asks.
“Wait a minute,” Alistair calls, wrapping an arm around me. Together we shine into the camera. "Now."
"One two three."
I break away from Alistair's embrace to go over to Wren and look at the picture. It turned out great, even though we didn't seem to be really holding still and it was a bit blurry.
"Thanks," I say to Wren and want to slip the phone back into my pocket.
"By the way, you have about two hundred messages and missed calls," Wren says quietly. "Maybe you should check them out before people start worrying about you."
The seriousness of his words comes through to me despite the alcohol, and I pause. I hesitantly pick up the phone again. the display
blurs before my eyes and I have to blink a few times to see what it shows: five missed calls from Ember and Lin, three from Mum and Dad. Seven messages in total.
"Damn," I mutter. I sway slightly in place as I try to select the first message with my finger and open it.
I heard what happened. Do you want to talk? Should I come by?
I swallow hard as I read Lin's words. I know I should answer her, but I can't right now. For the first time since this morning, I don't feel like I'm going to burst into tears at any moment. The
alcohol helped me block out that terrible day, and if I talk to Lin now, she'll definitely want to analyze everything that happened in great detail. Just like Ember, who also wrote to me.
Sorry, I was out! What happened? And where are you?
I don't want to worry about the problems that await me at home. I don't know what will happen next. And
I don't want to know at the moment either.
I shake my head and, without reading the rest of the messages, I shove the phone back into my blazer. I avoid Wren's thoughtful look as I take off the blazer and throw it on the sofa.
Then I roll up the sleeves of my blouse.
Alistair comes over to me, grabs my hand and leads me into a spin as if he had sensed my change in mood. Despite himself, I have to grin. He spins me again and returns my smile. He seems
to understand exactly what I need right now.
Maybe he has to suppress something, I think as I follow his gaze, which is directed at Keshav's back for the umpteenth time that afternoon.
For the first time in ages - or maybe even for the first time ever - I let go of everything. I close my eyes and move to the music. I stop holding on to what happened today and let Alistair help me
forget everything.
At some point I don't even think about it anymore - my movements happen on their own. I only hear snippets of conversation between Wren and Keshav, but otherwise it's just
the melody of the music and the weightlessness that the alcohol gives me.
I don't know how long Alistair and I will dance together. I have lost all sense of time - and also of how much whiskey
I drank in total.
"Another drink?" Alistair asks, lifting the bottle. I'm about to hand him my empty glass when a voice interrupts us.
»What's going on here?«
I whirl around. James is standing in the doorway to Alistair's room. Wren must have let him into the house because he appears for a moment
later behind him. »I have nothing to do with it, just to make that clear,« he murmurs and walks past him to the chair in which
he was sitting earlier.
James' gaze lands on me and for a heartbeat we just stare at each other. I can see the most varied emotions in his eyes.
recognize.
Guilt. Regret. Anger. Sadness. Fear.

My heart contracts painfully. I would love to bridge the distance between us and take him in my arms.
At the same time, I want to scream at him to finally find out who is editing these pictures of me and Mr. Sutton and going to Lexington
sent.
“Come on in, man,” Alistair says, and James steps over the threshold. As he walks, he opens his coat and then hangs it loosely over his arm. I remember that gray coat. He wore it when I
introduced him to my parents. The memory
makes a lump grow in my throat.
James stops just in front of us. He looks at me, his expression uncertain. "Hey."
"Hey," I answer.
His nose wrinkles slightly and he eyes the glass in my hand. "You smell like whiskey."
"Your sense of smell is impressive, my friend," Alistair replies. "Ruby and I drank our sorrows away."
James says nothing more about this statement. Instead, he tilts his head toward the couch, his eyebrows raised in question.
I just hesitate for a moment.
The euphoria from just now has fizzled out, the whiskey in my body no longer feels like a stimulating elixir, but rather hot and almost unbearable in my stomach.
Kesh turns the music down as we sit down. James puts his coat on the floor next to the couch, leans back, then runs both hands over his face. He looks incredibly tired as he turns his head
to me and looks at me with dark eyes.
“I took the pictures of you and Sutton,” he begins. »At the back-to-school party last year. We didn’t know each other back then.”
I nod.
"I didn't know what you would do with your knowledge of Lydia. I thought I needed something to use against you."
"What knowledge about Lydia?" asks Kesh, frowning.
James lets out a long breath. "Ruby isn't the one who had the affair with Sutton."
Alistair lowers the whiskey bottle. “Lydia and Sutton?” he asks incredulously. Even though he must have at least twice as much alcohol in his blood as me, he put two
and two together surprisingly quickly. "Really?"
“Is that why your father was so freaked out?” Keshav asks.
"Yes." A short pause. "And because Lydia is pregnant."
"James!" I burst out, because he's spilling Lydia's secret like that. But almost immediately I realize that James would never have said that if Lydia hadn't allowed him
to. She must have known that he would come here and talk to us about it.
James places his hand on mine and holds it tightly. His thumb gently strokes my skin. “Lydia asked me to tell you,” he says to Alistair and Kesh. "My father threw
her out and sent her to my aunt in Beckdale." I feel his body tense.
“Fuck,” says Alistair. He holds out the bottle to James, but James just shakes his head.
"How did he even find out about it?" Wren asks, frowning.
"Cyril." James practically spits out the name.
I look up from our intertwined fingers in surprise. This information is new to me too. "What? When?"
“He saw Lydia with Sutton on Saturday. You could imagine how he reacted to that, as long as he's been mourning Lydia. I went to see him afterwards to talk to him about
the matter. He stole my cell phone.” James shakes his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself. »I wanted to be there for him. And he took advantage of it shamelessly.
He gave the pictures to my father so that he could get Sutton out of Lydia's life." He looks at me. "And you from mine."
So that's what the curved B on the cover meant.
Mortimer Beaufort had the pictures of Sutton and I edited and sent to Lexington to get rid of me and Mr. Sutton.
“Two birds with one stone,” I say hoarsely.
"I don't believe it," Wren mutters. "Cyril can't have sunk that low."
“People are capable of a lot when they are unhappy in love,” Keshav replies with a dark look.
“What do we do now?” asks Alistair. "We can't just allow Lydia to be exiled and Ruby to be expelled from school!"
My affection for Alistair grows stronger with every second.
"I have to get Cyril to tell the truth," says James.
Then he turns to me. "You're going to Oxford." His voice is firm, as if he has no doubt about the truth of his words.
“No matter what I have to do to get it.”
Before I can reply, Wren follows up with, "We'll help you," whereupon Keshav and Alistair hum in agreement.
I look at James, who in turn looks at his friends. His gaze is grateful, and I can clearly feel the bond that has developed over the many years that they have known each
other. The four of them radiate confidence and unconditional solidarity - and suddenly my situation no longer seems as hopeless as it did just a few hours ago.
James
The throbbing in my temples has become more and more unbearable as the hours pass. Even the pill Alistair found for me in his mother's medicine cabinet doesn't help. On the contrary, I feel like the
headaches get worse the longer I'm on my feet.
I don't want to go, Lydia's sobs ring in my ears, an echo that has been haunting me for hours. Don't let him send me away, James.
I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose to relieve the pressure behind my eyes. Unfortunately that doesn't work either.
I failed on all counts. As a brother and as a friend. If I could, I would go to Beckdale instead of Lydia. And if I could, I would give Ruby my place at Maxton Hall so she could graduate. But wishful
thinking isn't going to help me in this situation.
»James«, wispert Ruby.
"And?"
»I got expelled from school.«
I lower my gaze to look at Ruby's face. The light from the street lamps is just bright enough to see how huge
her pupils and how red her cheeks are. I asked Percy to let us out at the entrance to Gormsey, hoping a walk would at least partially sober Ruby up. If I had delivered her home the way I found
her at Alistair's, I would definitely have been down with her parents for good.
A slight tremor runs through her body. I don't think twice, slip out of my coat and put it around her shoulders.
lost for words. All I can do is rub her arms and try to warm her.
She lets out a sound that was probably intended as a giggle, but halfway through it turns into a sob. "Me. Expelled from school.
Can you belive that?"
My chest tightens painfully. No. I can't believe it. I don't want to believe it. Just like I don't want to believe that this is all my fault. Will Ruby even be able to look me in the eyes once she gets her
high?
slept well and realized that it was me who brought her misfortune?
“I have no idea what to do now,” she whispers, choked. »No school will accept me with this note in my file.
And without a degree I can't go to university. Then I'll have to get a job so I don't have to be a burden on my parents." She blinks several times, but it doesn't help. Tears run down her cheeks.
Ruby gasps for air, and her pain is passed directly to me.
“I’m sorry I disappointed you again,” I murmur urgently. I push a strand of hair out of her eye and
I tuck it behind her ear, then gently run my thumb over her cheeks and wipe away the tears there. “What I said to Alistair was serious. I will do everything so that you can go to Oxford. I promise to
you."
Never in my life have I taken a promise as seriously as I did at that moment.
My feelings for Ruby developed slowly until they finally rose over me like a storm. Masks and facades don't exist with her, she is the only person to whom I give everything of myself. And
that is so scary. I couldn't bear to lose her again. Not after we have already overcome such great obstacles. Not when I know that she is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
"Since I met you, my life has been so damn messed up," she says harshly. "I don't know how to believe that."
My hand trembles on her cheek. "I understand that. Until you can do that, I’ll just believe in it for both of our sakes.”
Ruby swallows hard. And then, as if in slow motion, she lets her head fall forward onto my collarbone. She takes a deep breath and at the same time her hands slide to my hips. She holds on to
me like I'm the only thing that can support her in this moment. I don't know if she really believes in my words or if the alcohol has made her tired. Nevertheless, I raise my hand and stroke the back
of her head.
When Ruby is this close to me, it no longer feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. It feels like the world is in my arms.
5
Ruby
I wake up to the sound of a soft snore. My limbs feel heavy and I turn to the side and see Ember lying next to me. She has one arm stretched out above her head and her mouth is slightly open.
How did she get into my bed?
I can't remember the last time we slept together in one bed. We used to sleep together on weekends
often had pajama parties and fell asleep half-lying on top of each other without brushing their teeth, surrounded by chip crumbs.
For about half a minute I find myself in this blissful state where one is awake but not yet fully conscious
and that's why reality hasn't caught up with you yet. But then I suddenly notice the stale taste in my mouth and suddenly the memory of yesterday comes crashing down on me with all its force.
A cold shiver runs through me and my heart begins to pound against my chest. That's really all what happened. I would
suspended, and Lydia was kicked out of home. I drank whiskey with Alistair Ellington. Then James took me home and promised me he would fix everything.
As if by themselves, my gaze slides to the noticeboard above my desk. I can't read from here what's on the paper with the
wavy corners, but I now know the exact wording by heart.
A wave of nausea overcomes me.
"You're awake," Ember's sleep-scratchy voice sounds next to me.
All I can manage is a hum.
Ember stands up on one arm. "Where were you yesterday? Mum and Dad almost went crazy.'
»I could ask you that too,« I reply, turning my head to her. »I wanted to pick you up from school, but Maisie
said you weren't there."
Ember opens her mouth and closes it again. Her cheeks turn red, but she holds my gaze. Finally she sighs. “I skipped, okay? I'm struggling with math at the moment and just needed a break.«
I look at her with a frown. I have known Ember her entire life and I can tell when she is hiding something from me. I don't want to pressure her, after all, it is her right to have secrets. But I can't do
anything about the unrest that is building up in her.
spreading within me at this moment. I sit up a little, but before I can say anything she quickly adds, "Please don't tell Mom and Dad."
I return her gaze and think for a moment.
"Come on, Ruby."
“I won’t reveal anything,” I finally say quietly. “But if you need help with math or whatever, let me know, okay?”
She nods. »Deal.«
Afterwards, an uncomfortable silence fills the room.
“Is it true?” Ember finally asks hesitantly. “Were you really suspended from school?”
Now I sit up fully. Black spots appear in front of my eyes and I rub my face before finally nodding.
At the same moment, there is a soft knock on the door and Mum pokes her head into the room. I try to read her expression, but she seems to be trying very hard not to show any
emotion.
“Mum…” I start, but she silences me with a shake of her head.
“Your father and I want you to come downstairs,” she says flatly. "We're going to have a serious conversation now."
She pulls her head back and a little later I can hear her walking down the stairs. I rub my eyes while yawning. Ember bets
next to me. I feel her eyes on me and that she is waiting for an answer.
Without another word, I get up and go to the bathroom. I brush my teeth meticulously to remove the bad taste and wash my face. After that, I tie a ponytail and fix my bangs as best I can. When I
return to my room, Ember goes to the bathroom. This morning routine is so familiar to me that when I stand in front of my closet, my hand moves to my school uniform of its own accord. I pull it back
as quickly as if I had been burned by the dark blue. It takes me several deep breaths to suppress the panic that is trying to rise inside me, then I push the hanger with the uniform aside and reach for
a black midi skirt and a loose beige top.
Mum and Dad are already sitting at the dining table when Ember and I enter the kitchen. If this were a normal morning, they would be smiling at us
greet. They would quiz us about what we were planning to do that day and fill us in on their plans while we had breakfast together. Now they look at us expressionlessly as we sit down
across from them at the table. The only noise in the kitchen is the quiet hum of the coffee machine.
Mum and Dad exchange a look and appear to be communicating in silence for a moment. Then Dad looks at me.
"What happened yesterday, Ruby?" he asks.

I look back and forth between the two, confused. “Mum has probably already told you everything.”
“I still want to hear it from you again.”
Dad's look is neutral, without the judgment and disappointment with which Mum looked at me yesterday. It makes me notice a dent in my
dining table instead of staring at his face.
"I was... I was suspended from school," I manage to say.
"How come?"
I grit my teeth tightly. Unpleasant goosebumps appear on my arms and my hands feel cold and sticky.
I have never felt so uncomfortable in the presence of my family. I just want to get up and go back to my room.
"I don't know what you want to hear from me, Dad," I say. »Do you want me to tell you it's true? That I got my grades for Oxford
“I wanted to improve myself a bit and that’s why I kissed my history teacher?”
Next to me, Ember shifts uncomfortably in her chair. I can't look at her or my parents and I look away
instead wander randomly through the kitchen. He gets stuck on the clock hanging on the wall opposite.
The school bus will arrive in five minutes. Normally I would have to be standing at the bus stop with my backpack on my back.
Instead, I'm sitting here in the kitchen and have to face this question.
“No, I don’t want to hear that from you,” Dad says calmly. »I want to know what these pictures are about, yes. But I wish to hear your side of the story.”
I look at him in surprise.
"I didn't give you the chance to do that yesterday. And I'm very sorry about that," Mum adds. "I was overwhelmed by the situation. Sitting in this office and seeing these photos... I believed what Mr
Lexington told me and I
not allowing anyone to have their say at all.«
I hold my breath.
"I'm sorry, Ruby."
Suddenly my eyes start to burn. A lump forms in my throat, which I try several times in a row
to swallow. It does not work.
»But you can't just disappear like that.« Her voice becomes a haunting whisper. »We've been so worried
made."
"It wasn't okay that we weren't there for you yesterday," Dad continues.
"And it would mean a lot to us if you explained to us what happened," Mum adds.
No matter how often I blink, the tears do not disappear. To my left, Ember raises her hand and briefly strokes my back. I am
incredibly glad that she is with me at this moment.
Mum pours me a cup of tea and pushes it invitingly across the table. I wipe my cheeks and then wrap my hands around the warm porcelain. It gradually pushes away the cold in my bones.
My parents give me time to think about things
sort things out. I briefly consider what I can tell them. Whether it would be a breach of trust if I let my family in on my friends' secrets. But now this doesn't just affect Lydia and James
- it affects me too. And no matter how important they are to me, I can't put my relationship with my parents at risk any longer.
“It started the day I had to pick up my letter of recommendation from Mr. Sutton,” I begin after some hesitation.
»Last year in September.«
Mum and Dad listen to me carefully. Now the situation no longer seems scary to me. On the contrary, I feel as if I were
I feel like I am in a safe space where the truth can finally be spoken. So I keep talking. »I thought we had
We made an appointment together. But when I went in, he wasn't alone."
It's difficult at first, but as time goes on, the words come more easily to my lips. When I tell him that Cyril and James' father are behind the pictures, Mum grabs my dad's hand.
"Mortimer Beaufort is ruthless," I explain in a hoarse voice. "He would walk over dead bodies for his family's reputation."
"And he doesn't care if he destroys another family in the process," says Mum, shaking her head. "What a horrible person."
"Horrible person? I can think of a few other terms," says Dad, a deep frown forming between his brows.
"I wonder how such a monster could raise a kind-hearted person like Lydia," Ember agrees.
I've been talking for so long at a time that I'm completely out of breath. I take a sip of my tea, hoping that the lump still in my throat will go away soon.
Silence spreads throughout the kitchen. Unlike before, however, it is not uncomfortable, but rather thoughtful.
"I can't believe you carried all of this around without confiding in anyone," Dad finally says. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes.
The tea has gone cold now and I put the cup down again. "I just couldn't betray Lydia and James' trust."
“Now it’s not just about the two of them anymore,” Ember says gently, something I also realized yesterday.
»The matter has outgrown us. I have no idea how to convince Principal Lexington of the truth. Mr. Beaufort
is a member of the parents' committee, he donates huge amounts of money every year, just like Cyril's parents. If their word is against mine, then
It’s clear who he’s more likely to believe.”
“But the original pictures still have to exist, right?” asks Mum.
"Cyril deleted them. If they still exist, then only with him or Mr Beaufort."
“Even if she did, how would Ruby prove that it wasn’t these images that were edited?”
"It's no use," Dad says, shaking his head. "We need to talk to your principal and tell him the truth."
"No!" I shout. "That's not possible. I can't betray Lydia. Her father has already banished her to nowhere. What do you think he will do when all this becomes public?"
I remember the things James told me about his father. Of the coldness in Mr. Beaufort's eyes, of James's split lip and the red spots on Lydia's face.
"This man is unpredictable, Dad."
My mother reaches across the table and grabs my hands tightly. "I think it's great that you want to protect your friends, Ruby, but this is about your future."
“I really can’t do that to Lydia, Mum,” I say harshly. "I have to trust that James will get Cyril to come forward to Lexington with the truth about the pictures."
Mum exhales heavily and then looks at Dad. His expression has hardened.
»We still have to talk to this principal.« I open my mouth to contradict him, but he raises his hand. »We have to
nothing about Lydia, but I want him to check the authenticity of these photos."
I press my lips tightly together. Even though it feels good to have told my parents the truth, it makes me
at the same time uneasy that we have different opinions on this matter.
“Please let James try to talk to Cyril before we do anything,” I beg her.
Mum and Dad exchange a look.
"Can you really trust James?" Mum asks gently. "After all, he was the one who took the pictures."
I stiffen against my will. Of course mom is right. Objectively speaking, there is no reason why I should place my fate in James's hands.
"It's not what you think, Mum," Ember unexpectedly jumps to my aid. "James is really in love with Ruby. He would never hurt her on purpose."
Heat rushes to my cheeks. When I look at Ember, she just shrugs her shoulders. "You only have to spend a minute in your company to realize that."
Mum looks at Dad, whose expression is still anything but happy.
I hold my breath.
"We'll give him a week," Dad says firmly. “Then let’s go to Lexington. You've worked too hard these last few years to let a few lies ruin your work." Dad's voice trembles with suppressed anger,
but before any of us can say anything about his decision, he puts his hands on the wheels of his wheelchair and drives out of the kitchen.
Mum squeezes my hands tightly. "Thanks for telling us everything."
I swallow hard and nod.
»I hope you can forgive me for how I reacted yesterday. I didn’t know how to handle this situation.”
“I know,” I whisper, returning the pressure of Mum’s hands. “It’s okay, Mom.”
She stands up and bends over to kiss my head. Then she follows my father.
The liberated feeling that I just felt is slowly disappearing. Instead, fatigue creeps back into my limbs and I let my head fall on Ember's shoulder. She raises a hand and runs it through my hair.
"At least because of you they didn't notice that I wasn't at school yesterday," she mutters.
I barely have the strength to punch my sister in the side.

6
James
I raise my finger to the bell, but I can't manage to press the little button. It feels like someone has wrapped an invisible iron chain around my wrist and is now holding
me back with all their strength.
This is not the first time that I have stood in front of Ruby's front door. It is not even the first time that I have been nervous about meeting
her and her parents. But after everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours, I have no idea what awaits me behind that door. How to face Ruby's parents and
what to say to them. I feel the same way about Ruby. What if she isn't ready to forgive me and sends me away again?
The thought makes my stomach clench painfully. I don't think I've ever been as nervous as I was at that moment.
But leaving isn't an option either. I made a promise to Ruby - and besides, Lin would probably kill me if I didn't hand over her notes like we agreed.
I take a deep breath. Then I gather my courage and ring the bell. It takes half a minute to open the door
slowly being raised. Ruby's father looks up at me, his gaze hard and challenging, and the determination in it immediately reminds me of Ruby. I have to clear my throat.
"Hello, Mr. Bell," I say.
“James,” he replies tonelessly. It's obvious he's not happy about my visit.
"I wanted to bring Ruby her homework. I also have the notes from the classes she missed today," I say, holding up the small stack of papers I've put together as if to
prove it.
Several seconds pass in which Mr Bell looks at me wordlessly. I hold his gaze, as I always try to do with Ruby.
“Come in,” he finally says, moving his wheelchair aside so I can go into the house. I enter the narrow hallway and, just like last time, the first thing that catches my eye are
the family photos on the walls.
If I ever have a house, I'd like to hang up photos like that, it flashes through my head, and the thought catches me so unprepared that I have to look away.
"Ruby!" Mr Bell calls out so loudly that I jump. "You have visitors!"
Footsteps sound upstairs, followed by a creak as Ruby slowly descends the stairs. When she sees me, she widens
her eyes widen in surprise. “Hey,” I say quietly as she comes to a stop in front of me.
I know this greeting is not good enough. I would love to give Ruby more than this, but I can't. Not while Mr Bell is watching me with his eagle eyes.
"James is here to bring you your homework," he explains. "Why don't you go into the living room? Helen and I were just about to make tea anyway."
I watch him disappear into the kitchen. Then Ruby catches my gaze again. She seems tired and depressed, and I would like to hold her in my arms and never let go. But I
know that doesn't help her, let alone her problems
will solve, so I resist the urge and tilt my head questioningly towards the living room door.
Ruby nods and goes ahead, I follow her at a distance.
»Lin and I thought you would definitely want to have the class notes so you don't miss any material,« I say after
we sat down next to each other on the sofa. I place the stack of leaves on the table.
"You talked to Lin?" Ruby asks. She leans forward to read what's written on the top piece of paper.
"Yes. We sat down during the lunch break and discussed who would write for you in which subject.«
The corners of Ruby's mouth move up - barely noticeable, but they move.
“She was worried about you,” I continue. "She said she hasn't reached you since yesterday."
"I just didn't want to talk to anyone," she says quietly.
"I can understand that."
We are silent for a moment, then Ruby picks up the first sheet of paper and looks at me questioningly. "What does the Post-it mean?"
I clear my throat. »Each compartment has a different color,« I explain. »So you can find your way around more quickly. Lin gave me an introduction to
given your color codes. So that’s math.”
Ruby looks from the papers to me and back again, and some of the desolation disappears from her eyes. It is replaced by something else, something warmer, until
finally a slight smile spreads across her face. She pulls the entire stack from the
table and onto her lap and begins to examine each note more closely.
"I thought it would be best for you to take your time and look at everything, and if you have any questions, we'll go through it together again. Except for English -
you're reading Anna Karenina, which we haven't started yet. Lin can help you with that, though."
Ruby nods absently and continues flipping through the notes.
"I hope you can decipher everything. I really tried, but -"
I can't get any further. Ruby makes a small leap towards me and hugs me.
“That’s so great, thank you,” she says.
A few of the notes have fallen to the floor, but at this moment I don't care. I return Ruby's hug as best I can.
"I don't want to give up Maxton Hall," she says. Her voice is muffled against my blazer.
"I know," I reply.
She snuggles even closer to me and I hold her as tightly as I can.
“Hi, James,” a voice suddenly comes from behind us. Letting go of Ruby is the last thing I want right now, but Ember's teasing tone
leaves me no choice. I turn around. Ruby's sister and her mother are standing in the doorway to the living room. I shoot up from the couch.
"Hello, Helen," I say, straightening my jacket. "Hey, Ember."
For a moment, there is an uncomfortable silence between us. Then Helen takes a few steps towards me. For a moment, I fear that she wants to slap me. I'm already gritting my teeth - but then
Ruby's mother surprises me.
She pulls me into her arms.
For a moment I don't know what's happening to me.
Helen Bell hugs me.
"I'm very sorry about your family, James," she says quietly.
Your words take my breath away.
She leans back, but continues to hold my upper arms with her hands. My body feels stiff as a board. I can't move, I can't say a single word. I remember the last time my mom hugged me. It was on
my last birthday, right at breakfast. She first approached Lydia with her arms outstretched and then hugged me.
"If there's anything we can do for you and your sister, don't be afraid to tell us," Helen continues, and I push the memory of my mum away.
I expected to be yelled at. I expected resentment and hatred. With having the door slammed in your face. And now Ruby's mom is hugging me and offering to help me. Me. Even though I'm the
one who got Ruby expelled from school.
I swallow with difficulty. In that second I don't know anything at all. I just notice that it's taking more and more strength for me to hold her gaze and not let it show how much her words affect
me. Maybe that's Helen's very personal weapon - gentleness.
“James brought me the notes from school so I don’t miss anything,” Ruby says at some point, breaking me out of my paralysis. If she hadn't said anything, I probably wouldn't have moved at all
and would have stayed like a pillar of salt in the Bells' living room for the rest of the day.
It's only when Helen turns to Ruby and goes to the sofa that I manage to catch my breath again. It takes me a moment to collect myself and go back to Ruby, who is busy picking up
the notes from the floor with Ember.
Ember looks intently at one of the leaves, then holds it so Ruby can see it. “They look like you made them,” she says, almost amused.
Ruby gives me a small smile that shoots through me like an arrow. "Yes or?"
I go back to the sofa and sit down again. My heart is still racing like crazy, but Ruby's presence slowly calms my nerves down again.
“Ember, I need your help in the kitchen,” says Helen.
Ember rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, but follows her mother without arguing.
Then Ruby and I are alone again.
I turn in the direction in which the two disappeared.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ruby says, amused.
"Your mum is..." I don't know how to describe what just happened to me. Shaking my head, I lean back on the sofa and smile at Ruby.
"I hope it's okay that I told them."
“Of course,” I reply immediately. "Your parents should know the truth."
She exhales audibly. "I wasn't sure if you would see it that way."
I nod. I don't know what Ruby has in common with her family. But I know how valuable it is. "I think it's great how you treat each other. The fact that you can talk to them about things
like that is not a given. I never wanted to put you under any pressure. I'm sorry."
»You didn't put pressure on me. I consciously wanted to keep her out of everything - I've been doing it that way for over two years," she replies quietly but forcefully.
I look at my fingers.
I think of the sound of my father's hand hitting Lydia's cheek. Last night I just dreamed about it and woke up to it over and over again.
»James?« Ruby whispers.
I look at the skin that is stretched over my knuckles. "Sometimes I wish it were like that for us. That I had parents - a family - that I could talk to like you talk to yours. I..." That's all I can say.
"I know," Ruby says. She slides a little closer to me until our knees gently touch.
"I can't believe my dad sent Lydia away." My breathing suddenly quickens. My chest is pounding, but at the same time my body feels too tight for what's going on inside me. "There was nothing
I could do to stop it. There was just nothing I could do, Ruby."
Ruby places her hands on my clenched fists. Her touch is gentle and warm, just like her voice when she speaks. "No one could have stopped this. You did everything you could."
I swallow hard. There seem to be a million thumbtacks stuck in my throat. »It still wasn't enough. And…I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday.”
“I know that,” Ruby says quietly. She squeezes my hands and I lift my head to look at her. There is sadness in her eyes, but also something else. Something I cling to because it feels familiar
and good.
"Being there for you and Lydia is the most important thing for me right now. You are the most important thing to me."
I loosen my hand until I can turn it and grasp Ruby's. I carefully lift it to my mouth and press my lips to the back of her hand.
Ruby's gaze becomes warmer and warmer. More and more lively. "I doubted it for a moment," she admits quietly. "In front of Lexington's office."
I nod. Yes, I saw that. Her disbelieving look and the disappointment in it cut me to the core. I know I have made big mistakes in the past. But taking these photos – something like that is no
longer a part of my life. Such
Intrigues are no longer part of the man I am now. Or want to be.
"I didn't even know that I still had the pictures on my cell phone."
Ruby nods briefly. Then she exhales audibly. "It will be difficult to convince Lexington of the truth."
"Probably yes."
For a moment we are both lost in our thoughts.
"What about Lydia?" Ruby finally asks. "What happens now?"
I clear my throat. "She's living with Ophelia and getting private lessons so she can finish her degree. Dad threatened to report her to Sutton if she refused."
Ruby stiffens and I can see the same anger I feel flashing in her eyes.
»I would like to pack my things too.«
"Why don't you do it?" Ruby asks cautiously. "Maybe then he'd come to his senses and realize he made a mistake."
I shake my head. "I can't let the situation at home escalate any further. If I leave, I'll have no chance of convincing my father to bring Lydia back."
Ruby frowns. "Then that means..."
»...that I first do what he wants,« I say tonelessly.
»Oh, James.«
I shrug my shoulders. The last thing I wanted to do with my visit was to burden Ruby with my family problems again.
She has enough on her plate, she shouldn't have to worry about Lydia and me as well.
“Do you think he’ll change at some point?” Ruby asks, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.
I listen to myself and think. I never thought about whether my father would ever change. To me he was always just Mortimer Beaufort - a businessman who had the highest expectations of me
and put me under so much pressure since I was a child that I always felt like I was going to suffocate at any moment.
I regularly have dreams that I'm drowning in the sea and my father is standing over me watching me die. That's exactly how it feels
im Moment an.
"I don't think so," I say hoarsely.
Ruby moves a little closer to me and I lean my head against hers. "I'm here for you," she whispers.
I can't respond to that. I just wrap an arm around her side and pull her close to me.
"I thought I'd go and visit Lydia on the weekends," I say after a while. "I know she'll be fine with Ophelia. But she doesn't know anyone else in Beckdale, and I don't want her to feel alone."
Ruby looks at me sympathetically, but that's the last thing I wanted. She has enough worries of her own and I shouldn't burden her with my family's problems too.
“Can I come with you?” she asks after a while.
“To Lydia?”
Ruby nods. She must sense my surprise, because before I can answer, she quickly adds: »Someday. Well, just
if you want."
»Lydia would definitely be happy.« I lean back a little to look at Ruby and add quietly: »And I
also."
I would have done anything to spend the rest of the day with Ruby, but there's one thing I have to do today - and it's anything but pleasant.
I park my car in front of Red Heaven and get out. It's unusual to drive yourself, but Percy did on Saturday after
We called in sick when we got back from Pemwick and hasn't shown up since. I can't blame him. Delivering Lydia to Ophelia crying and then driving back as if nothing had happened
couldn't have been easy for him either.
I close the car door a little tighter than necessary and then walk the few meters to the entrance to the club. The sun is almost out now
completely set and visible in the distance only as a faint reddish glow.
I push the heavy velvet curtains aside and step inside. The typical powdery sweet smell spreads through my nose and presses
immediately on my head. I don't think I've ever been in this place sober before. Without the influence of alcohol, the smell combined with the sight of the pole dancing poles, where dancers
dance in pink and reddish light to a slow song with a deep bass, seems somehow surreal. Like a world in which I am a stranger - and no longer an integral part.
"James!" Bear's booming voice rings out from some distance. Apart from him and the dancers, there is no one else in this part of the club, which is no surprise. The peak times here are much
later.
I turn to him and see the owner of Red Heaven coming towards me with his arms outstretched. His name does not fit
his tall, slender stature and the tailored Beaufort suit he wears. “First Cyril, then you. What
give me the honor?”
“Bear,” I greet him and offer him my hand. His handshake is almost as firm and unyielding as my father's. I reply
him without batting an eyelid. "I'm here because of Cyril. Where is he?"
A serious look comes into Bear's eyes, even though the smile on his lips doesn't move an inch. "He's in the back of one of the rooms, enjoying himself."
I swallow hard. It was clear. "I hope he's responsive."
Bear waves me back, across the club. “Judging by your gravedigger expression, he ate something.”
I look at the heavy door that leads to the VIP area without answering Bear.
“You know I don’t tolerate fights in my club, James,” he continues in a dark voice. "If you want to sort out problems with each other, this isn't the place to do it."
"I don't plan on getting into a fight with anyone," I say.
“Good,” is all Bear says before opening the door for me. "He's at the back."
I nod and walk down the hall to the area Bear pointed to. Without hesitation, I push the curtain aside.
Cyril sits on one of the black leather sofas. He looks relaxed, has his head thrown back and is watching the dancer moving in front of him to the beat of the music. He watches her as she buries
both hands in her hair and rotates her hips.
Slowly she moves downwards –
I clear my throat.
Cyril doesn't turn his head towards me, but I can see every muscle in his body tense.
"Linette," he says, without taking his eyes off the dancer, "can we take a short break?" There is no intonation or emotion in his voice.
Linette pauses in surprise, but then nods when she sees me standing in the entrance. She gets off the small dance floor and throws me a smile as she passes.
I slowly walk over to the sofa. I pull one of the leather stools towards me so that I can sit opposite Cyril. He doesn't even bother to look at me. Instead, he stares at the ceiling, his eyes dull, as if he's
had something much harder in him in addition to alcohol.
I remember his words from yesterday. Of the provocation in his voice: Ask him, Ruby. Ask him who took these pictures. About how he gave me the phone back and mocked me by thanking
me for it too. It took all the strength in the world not to pounce on him and instead turn around and leave him standing in front of Lexington's office.
I know Cyril. Attacking him would have been exactly what he would have wanted from me. Just as he is probably hoping for right now. But I will not do him that favor. I will not use my anger to
help him compensate for his pain. Because it is obvious that Cyril is suffering. At least if you have known him all your life, like I have.
"Dad kicked Lydia out," I finally begin.
My words have the expected effect: Cyril flinches and looks at me with a veiled expression.
Lydia is the only thing that interests him. I knew I could get through to him this way.
“He shouted at her, beat her and sent her to live with our aunt in Beckdale, Cy,” I continue in a calm voice. I vowed to keep a cool head, but the moment the memory hits me, I clench my hands into
fists.
It happens completely instinctively.
Something dark flickers in Cyril's eyes. "He said he would make sure Sutton disappeared from her life," he says hoarsely. "That we could get rid of them both in one fell swoop."
My nails dig into my palms. "What the hell did Ruby do to you?" I growl.
Cy lets out a laugh, but it sounds anything but amused. He rubs his face with both hands and then buries them in his dark hair. “Everything was perfect before they showed up, man.”
"Nothing was perfect. Before Lydia met Sutton, she was in a terrible situation."
Cyril's shoulders tense. He also clenches his hands into fists. "That's not true."
"Maybe you just didn't know her as well as you wish."
"Fuck," Cyril exclaims, hitting the sofa cushion with his fist. "I just wanted everything to go back to the way it was!"
"You act like everything used to be so amazing, Cy. But that's just not true."
“We had the best time together,” he says, his voice trembling. »We didn't care what others thought of us. We were invincible, James. And now there’s nothing left of it.”
His cheeks are flushed, his shoulders are rising and falling rapidly.
Suddenly I realize what the problem is. While in reality I never wanted the life my parents had planned for me, things were different for Cyril. While I have always feared the future, Cyril has looked
forward to going to Oxford and following the path that has been prepared for him. While I always had a suppressed desire for more , Cyril was content with his life.
"You can't tell me that what you did had anything to do with friendship."
“Of course I did it for our friendship.” Now Cyril looks as if he would jump up at any moment.
»You did this for yourself. Out of selfishness. Because you can’t handle change.”
"That's not true," he replies.
"What did you think? That my father would be happy about the news?" I reply coldly.
"He said he would make sure Sutton disappeared. That was all I wanted."
I snort. »You achieved the opposite of what you wanted. Neither Lydia nor I can ever look at you the same way again.”
Cyril flinches. He looks like I've punched him in the face. "I... I didn't mean to do that. I didn't know he would punish Lydia."
I lean forward in my chair and look Cyril in the eyes. "You hurt the two people who are most important to me in my life. I will never forget that."
“I can no longer undo what happened.” His voice sounds tortured, he literally forces the words out.
»Yes, you can.«
He shakes his head. "Lexington won't believe a word I say if I go to him now. Besides, my reputation would be ruined."
I hit the table between us with full force. Pain explodes in my fist and shoots up my entire arm, but I couldn't care less in that second.
“I don’t give a shit about your damn reputation, Cyril! You ruined Ruby’s life with that vile lie.”
I look at Cyril challengingly. He returns my gaze with a hard expression.

"I know you still have the original photos. I'll give you a week to take them to Lexington."
"I -"
I stand up and look down at him. "If you don't give Lexington the pictures, our lost friendship will be the least of your problems," I say, deadly quietly.
Cyril swallows hard. He looks down at his hands, clenches them into fists and then loosens them again. It cannot be overlooked that he is currently
waging a relentless battle with himself.
But I can't help him with that. I said everything I had to say.
"James," Cyril croaks again in a hoarse voice as I'm almost at the exit of the lounge. "I really didn't mean to do this."
The anger at Cyril coupled with the uncertainty of what will happen to Lydia and Ruby makes me almost dizzy.
Maybe Cyril is not a bad person at heart, but at this moment I don’t know if our friendship can still be saved.
At this moment I can't even bring myself to look at him.
"I know."
Without another word I leave the club.

7
Graham
BEAUFORT
I have been standing here for more than five minutes now, staring at the imposing sign that is emblazoned on the facade of the glass building.
I used to pass by here a lot because my theater group met for rehearsals just two blocks away. However, I never realized that this was the headquarters of the Beaufort Companies - probably
because I was never particularly interested in fashion or the country's big corporations.
I always only wanted one thing: to become a teacher.
When Lydia told me her last name, it didn't mean anything to me at first. She had to help me understand that the suit my grandfather gave me when I graduated from Oxford was from a brand
that belonged to her family.
Once again I straighten the collar of my dark green shirt and adjust the strap of the shoulder bag on my shoulder
right.
Then I look at my watch: fourteen fifty-five. I take a deep breath and start moving.
Together with two businessmen in suits, I walk through the large revolving door and enter the entrance hall of the modern high-rise building.
Lydia once told me that the original Beaufort headquarters, where the main branch and tailor shop are located, was in
became too small in the 1980s and this building was built right next to it, into which marketing, press, accounting and management gradually moved. It has twenty floors and leaves no doubt
that this is the place to be
in which the company's business is conducted.
My palms feel cold as I stop just inside the door and look around. The floor of the reception area is made of light marble and the walls are made entirely of glass. The Beaufort emblem is
incorporated into the middle of the entrance hall, and the company name is written in a semicircle directly above it.
"What can I do for you?" a young man asks me when I finally reach the reception desk. His hair is gelled to the side and, like almost everyone else here, he is wearing a black suit that fits so well
that it must have been tailored to his body.
I intentionally left my Beaufort suit in the closet, but now I'm wondering if that was a mistake. With my jeans and checkered jacket that's a little too big, I almost feel like a leper in here.
"My name is Graham Sutton. I have an appointment with Mr Beaufort," I explain.
The young guy raises his eyebrows, then bends over his computer and clicks his mouse a few times. "Ah, there you are." He types at breakneck speed on the keyboard, then rolls his chair back
a little to a
small black cupboard whose drawer he opens. He comes back to the counter and holds out a rectangular white sign to me
in contrast to. Visitor ID card is written on it in clear letters, with the Beaufort logo printed directly above it and further down
black barcode.
"Go through the security checkpoint on the right and hold your ID card in front of the scanner. Once you're through, you'll find the elevators on the left. You need to go to the top floor."
"Okay. Thanks," I say, taking the ID and turning in the direction he pointed.
“Good luck,” he calls after me.
If he only knew how badly I needed this.
A woman and a man get into the elevator with me. They look at me closely when they see which floor I'm going to. I look away and stare at my worn-out brown leather shoes instead.
The ride to the twentieth floor seems to go by in slow motion, even though the elevator is going at a dizzying speed. All I can think about the whole time is Lydia. I haven't heard from her for five
days, and I'm worried sick. I spent the whole of Monday evening
tried to reach her, but her cell phone was switched off after our call. It wasn't until late at night that I received an email from her:
I'm really just causing you problems. Maybe it's better if you forget me. I'm sorry. - Lydia
She didn't respond to my answer. I don't know where she is or if she's okay. When the call came from Mr. Beaufort's secretary yesterday, it felt like the ground beneath my feet was giving
way.
If Lydia's father wants to talk to me, that can only mean one thing: He knows. On the one hand, that makes me more nervous than on my first day of classes at Maxton Hall, but on the other hand,
I'm almost... relieved? The last few days have been the hardest of my life so far, without question. I've lost my job and with it probably my entire professional future. But amidst the hopelessness,
there's also the thought of Lydia. Lydia, with whom I can now perhaps have a future together without living in constant fear and with a guilty conscience. It was a high price, but Lydia is worth
paying.
I am the last one to get out of the elevator. A dark-haired woman behind a reception desk greets me with a
reserved smile. “Mr Sutton, please take a seat up front. Mr. Beaufort will be there for you shortly.” She points to a row of chairs at the end of the hallway.
I go to the chairs, but instead of sitting down, I stand at the window front that stretches across the entire right side of the floor
stretches and through which you have an impressive view of London. I look at the city where I grew up. The Thames glitters in the spring sunshine and gives an almost peaceful impression
that couldn't be more different from the tumult inside me.
"Mr. Sutton, you can go in now," says the assistant.
I clear my throat. "Thank you."
Then I take a deep breath, walk past the chairs to the door and push down the handle.
Lydia's father's office looks just like the rest of the building - clean, cool and emotionless. On the right side is a
silver filing cabinet, next to it a simple gray sofa with metal feet. On the left there is a desk with a large glass top.
Mr Beaufort is standing at the window behind him. He has his hands clasped behind his back and only turns around when I
I closed the door behind me with a quiet click. His gaze is cool as it lands on me.
“Sit down, Sutton,” he tells me, pointing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
I am briefly irritated by the lack of greeting, but I comply with his request. "Mr. Beaufort."
He comes to the desk, sits down and puts both arms on the glass plate in front of him. To the side is a large computer with a black screen, on the other side are
several stacks of paper, including catalogs and design sketches. My look
pauses for a moment, then I look back at Mr. Beaufort.
"I'm sure you know why I asked you here," he begins without showing a single emotion.
“I can imagine,” I reply.
“I assume my daughter has informed you of her move.”
I return his gaze calmly, trying not to let on that I have no idea what he's talking about.
"What has happened cannot be undone. But I strongly advise you not to waste your Oxford degree on a relationship that has no chance."
The way he brushes aside Lydia's and my relationship with just a few words feels like a punch in the chest.
He doesn't know me at all. He doesn't know what connects Lydia and me, how much we've helped each other. And he has no idea that we need each other, now more
than ever.
I didn't come here expecting to get his blessing. No father wants his daughter to have a relationship with her
teacher begins, I know that. But the tone in which he speaks to me is disrespectful, and the fact that he tries to
to intimidate, ridiculous. I am absolutely indifferent to his power and his money. He cannot tell me what to do or not to do.
and he certainly shouldn't threaten me.
"I'm not sure I can follow you, sir."
»Then I want to be a little clearer, Mr Sutton,« he says finally. He leans forward and puts his hands together. From the
Out of the corner of my eye I can see his white knuckles. "From now on, you will refrain from any contact with my daughter.
If I find out that you continue to talk to Lydia or come near her even once, I will make sure you regret it. He says these words with the calm and certainty of a man who
always gets his way and doesn't tolerates contradiction.
I wonder if I should be afraid, but instead I think of Lydia, of what we've already been through together, and what the future still holds for us.
Last Saturday, at the spring dance, I realized that I can no longer fight my feelings for Lydia. I
I have chosen her. I know that this will not be easy. Her father is perhaps the biggest hurdle that stands in our way.
stands, but by far not the only one. But my life is colorless without Lydia. Without them nothing makes sense. And no matter what happens, I won't give her up
without a fight. I won't let Lydia be taken away from me, especially not by a father who has done nothing other than keep her small all her life, even though she
could be so big.
"With all due respect, that's out of the question, Mr. Beaufort," I say, my voice as cool as his.
Now it's Mr Beaufort who blinks twice in a row. Apparently he's not used to anyone contradicting him. The moment lasts only a split second, then he has regained his
composure and leans back a little. He exhales audibly.
"Good. Then let's approach this differently." The next moment he bends to the side and lifts a briefcase onto the desk. He pushes it towards me with the
opening facing forward and clicks open the two clasps.
When he lifts the lid, I clench my teeth so hard that they grind.
The Queen's face smiles at me in a hundred different ways.
The collar of my shirt suddenly feels unbearably tight, and I have to resist the urge to loosen it. I lift slowly
and stare into Mr Beaufort's emotionless face.
“See this as compensation for the inconvenience,” he continues, undeterred.
My pulse is racing and I try in vain to take a deep breath. "I don't want your money, Mr. Beaufort."
He raises an eyebrow. "This amount is more than generous."
»That’s not the point at all!«
Damn, I'm getting loud. I don't really want to, but this man is leaving me no choice. "Don't you understand what you're doing to your daughter with this behavior?"
Now he's the one gritting his teeth. "You should be careful what you say," he says in a deadly quiet voice.
I just shake my head. »You were Lydia's hero. She would have done anything to be taken seriously by you and to get involved with Beaufort - but for you there was
always only this one predetermined path that your daughter did not fit into. You never chose
you were interested in her. You didn't care what happened to her - as long as this goddamn company didn't get hurt.
You have always been blind to Lydia's grief. The fact that you are now trying to intervene in her life in this way only shows once again that you do not know your
daughter at all."
Mr Beaufort stands up so abruptly that his chair hits the glass wall behind him. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
I also stand up to be at eye level with him. "You don't know anything about what she's been through."
»I would do anything for my children, regardless of whether it fits into their plans or not. Ultimately, the decisions are for me
she meets, for her own protection. If you were a father, you would understand that.”
The door opens behind me, but I don't care if anyone notices our argument and I might
be taken outside by security at any moment. I don't plan on ever coming back anyway.
"When I'm a father, I'm going to listen to my children," I growl. "I'm going to encourage them and support them in everything they want to do. And I'm never, ever
going to put my goals before theirs."
Mr Beaufort presses his lips tightly together. He is no longer looking at me, but at the entrance to his office. I turn around, irritated.
James is standing in the doorway. His gaze wanders back and forth between his father and me – and finally settles on the briefcase that is still open on the desk in front
of me.
James
I can feel all the color draining from my face.
Dad's office is so quiet that every halting breath I take sounds deafeningly loud. I can't describe what I'm in
at this moment - all I know is that it is something that has been growing inside me for years and is now about to burst out of me.
"You can't be serious, Dad," I say, taking a step into the room.
Dad continues to look at me without showing any emotion.
I nod at the suitcase. "Isn't it enough that you banished Lydia to Ophelia? Are you really going to do this to her too?"
Heat spreads to my cheeks. In my stomach. My veins. Just everywhere. It feels like everything is about me
turn around - everything except my father. I clench my hands into fists and can feel them shaking. The shaking penetrates to my bones. So much concentrated anger flows through my body
that I can hardly stand.
"Do you think you can throw a sum of money on the table and he'll disappear from Lydia's life forever? Do you really think that's going to work now?"
“Stop being melodramatic and close the door behind you.” Without taking his eyes off me, Dad closes the suitcase.
Then he turns back to Sutton. "Think about it again."
"I don't have to think about it. If you called me here to blackmail me, you've chosen the wrong person." Sutton nods at my father. "Good day."
He turns around and crosses the office. When he gets to me he slows down and for a moment I have the feeling he wants to tell me something. But then he exhales audibly, shakes his head
and leaves the office without another word. The door slams loudly behind
him in the castle.
I can't move from the spot.
My father, on the other hand, lifts the suitcase from the desk, puts it on the floor next to him and sits down in front of the computer.
As if nothing had happened.
The anger inside me is getting bigger and bigger, more overwhelming. I can't stop her anymore, and after what I just saw, I want to
that no longer either.
Do you think he'll change at some point? Ruby's words echo in my head.
I know the answer. I've always known it. I just didn't want to admit it.
And suddenly I understand what this fire inside me means.
I've worked my ass off over the last few years to please my father. I simply accepted the thought of a future that belonged only to him. Not anymore.
I don't want to be a man who gets his way at any price and goes through life without regard for the consequences. I always thought that I
have no choice. But the last few months have shown me how unpredictable life is. You showed me that I have something worth fighting for. And they awakened something in me that I had never had
before: courage.
The courage to do something for myself.
The courage to take my life into my own hands.
The courage to stand up to my father.
"That's enough." I can hardly believe how calm I sound.
"What?" Dad sounds absent. He's typing on the keyboard and not even really looking at me.
In a few long steps I cross the office until I stand in front of his desk. Only then does Dad take his eyes off his
computer screen.
I raise my hand and touch the signet ring on my left finger. The ring I wear to every meeting at Beaufort .
As a symbol of being part of this family. But the only thing he symbolizes is the unity that Dad and I pretend to everyone.
I slowly take the ring off and cradle it in my hand. It's not heavy, but at the same time it feels like I'm holding in my hands the entire burden that has threatened to crush me for the past
eighteen years.
"I tried, Dad," I say. "I really tried to be a good son. To make you and Mum proud. But..." I
shake your head. The thought of Mum hurts. I don't know if she would be disappointed in me if she could see me like this now. "I
can't go on like this anymore."
I put the ring on the desk in front of my dad without taking my eyes off his face.
»I will sell my shares in Beaufort .« As I withdraw my hand, I notice that I am feeling lighter than ever before in my
feel life. It seems to me that all it takes is a gust of wind to carry me from here to another place, because I am everything
to this company and this man.
My father doesn't say anything. Only the bitter twist of his mouth indicates that he is not happy with this situation. After a few seconds he turns back to his computer. I exhale audibly and
turn around.
"If you're serious, you don't have to come back home," Dad says quietly as I reach the door.
I glance over my shoulder at him. I think of my sister, whose last chance I am probably taking away from her at this moment to return from Beckdale. I think of my mum's smile. Of
everything that is no longer in my life.
exists.
“Which home?” I reply.
Without waiting for his reaction, I push the door open with my hand.
In that second, one thing is very clear to me: it's the last time I'll walk through it.
8
Human
I feel like I'm being watched the entire way to Wren's house.
I know full well that my fears are unfounded. Ruby is sitting in the town library at the other end of Gormsey, going through the notes that James and Lin took turns bringing her this week. She won't
even come near this part of town on her way home, so I don't really have to worry.
I still can't shake the uneasy feeling.
Maybe it's because I've never lied to my sister like that before. We have secrets from each other, of course, but nothing on this scale. I'll meet a boy from her school behind her back - if she finds out
that I am
If I do exactly what she explicitly warned me about, she will hold it against me forever.
And they won't care that Wren and I are just friends - although I'm not even sure that's the right term for who we are. Because apart from the fact that we write to each other almost every
day, I can take advantage of the opportunities
who we met in person can be counted on one hand.
Maybe I'm just excited. What if I go to the wrong house and ring the wrong doorbell – or worse, no one opens it for me?
But when I turn into the street that Wren gave me in his text message, my eyes immediately fall on a small van coming out of it
Movers are carrying a sofa into a small semi-detached house. Cardboard boxes are piled up in front of the front door and on the path in front of it, making it
unmistakable which house I have to go to. It becomes even more unmistakable when Wren suddenly appears in the door and picks up one of the
boxes. He is wearing a sleeveless gray training shirt and black jeans, along with sports shoes. When he met me on the side of the road
discovered, he raises his hand.
I walk the last stretch of the street, past the small van and the narrow path through the front garden to the front door, without taking my eyes off Wren - until I remember that I'm actually just
about to stop the time. I quickly look at my watch.
“It’s only eight minutes from my door to yours,” I announce.
"Then the maps app was obviously lying," Wren replies.
"Or she underestimated my enormous speed."
»Perhaps the route calculation is simply intended for old people with walkers and therefore calculates another ten minutes
on it?"
That makes me grin. Wren returns it hesitantly and looks over his shoulder. Then he turns back to me. »Come
rein.«
I take a step towards the house, but then I remember all the boxes and I bend down and pick one up
tall with Wren's name written on it in large black letters.
"I even know this street," I say as Wren steps aside so I can come in. He grabs one of the boxes as well and then goes upstairs without closing the door. The white-painted wooden stairs creak
under my feet as I follow him.
The steps are very narrow and I have to concentrate on not missing anything, which is anything but easy with the box on my arm.
"This is it," Wren says as we enter the first room on the right. "Just put it on the floor."
The room is about the same size as mine. The walls are yellowed and bare, and in some places you can see cracks in the plaster that must have spread over the years. The floor is made of
creaking floorboards that are louder than the steps. If you take a step here, you'll probably hear it in half the house.
"It's..." Wren begins, and at first I think he's pausing to search for the right word, but then he gives up and ends with a shrug.
»I think it's cute. I'm sure you can make some great things out of it. That's why I came here, isn't it? I put on my renovation clothes especially.« I point to the gray sweatpants and the
loose-fitting black off-shoulder shirt, which still has a few splatters of varnish on it from Christmas, when we refurbished a spice rack for Dad. I have my hair too
tied in a high ponytail, the end of which tickles between my shoulder blades.
“Feel free to share some of your optimism with me,” says Wren, demonstratively looking around the room again. A bed frame has already been set up, as has a desk on the opposite wall. He's
standing under a window and I take the three steps to take a look outside.
"From here you have a nice view of the neighbouring gardens." I grin at him over my shoulder. "You can spy on them in the future. If you're ever bored."
“I can think of a few other things I could do,” Wren says dryly.
The grin slips from my face as I think about what he might mean by “other things.” Suddenly I have pictures
in front of eyes that are completely inappropriate at this moment.
To make matters worse, I also feel myself blushing.
"I brought everything I could find at home," I say quickly and let my bag slide from my shoulder onto the desk. Little by little I pull out masking tape, masking film and painter's fleece.
"Did you get the paint?"
“Yes,” says Wren, pointing to the two buckets standing next to the door. He then steps next to me and takes the masking tape in his hand.
I look at him discreetly from the side.
Even though we've only known each other for a short time and he's never said it explicitly, I can tell how much this move is affecting him. Not just at this moment, but throughout the last few weeks
we've spoken.
Initially our contact was limited to the comments under my posts. Wren has his promise from the charity gala
and looked at my blog. Suddenly I had at least one new comment every day, even under my
Wren posted something in the very first entry. Sometimes it was just a few short lines, other times he had entire treatises
wrote about how he had never thought about the perception of fat people and that he had not realized before that it is mainly the media that steers society in a certain direction with its content
and representations. Some of his comments have developed into conversations, first on my blog and shortly afterwards via private messages on Instagram.
By the time we finally exchanged cell phone numbers, we were no longer just talking about Bellbird , but about everything. He told me about what was happening at home, about his dad, who
blames himself so much for not telling Wren
nor can he look his mum in the eye anymore, and his fear of not getting a scholarship and not being able to go to Oxford. I told him how hard it is sometimes for me to get up in the morning - not
because I'm too tired, but because I don't have the strength to face a new day - and that ironically those are the days when I write the most inspiring, optimistic posts for my blog.
It's amazing how you just click with some people. Especially when it's night and the rest of the world is in peaceful sleep.
"I'd say we start by taping up the electrical outlets," I say after a moment, pointing to the masking tape in Wren's hand.
He just hums in response.
I bump into him with my shoulder. He looks at me questioningly.
"Don't be like that. This is fun."
"If you knew my old room, you would understand why I don't like it here."
"Start taping over that socket over there," I say, ignoring his comment. I grab the painter's fleece and lay it out along the long side of the room. A few splashes of light green and grey paint from our
previous renovations are still visible on it, and I remember Mum standing on a ladder, laughing, and Ruby holding a paintbrush soaked in paint at me like a gun.
I risk a glance at Wren, who is busy putting masking tape on the bottom of the socket.
"I know how bad it must be that you lost your home, Wren," I say. He pauses for a moment, but then carries on as if nothing had happened. "But you have to somehow change your perspective on
the whole thing. Otherwise you'll end up with gray hair from being so angry."
Now he gives me an amused look. "You get grey hair when you're angry about something?"
I nod, then get up to grab the drop cloth from the desk. "Do you want to be the only eighteen-year-old guy within a three-hundred-mile radius with gray hair? I don't think so."
“And I thought that was a trend right now. Didn’t I read something about “Granny Look” on a blog?”
I grin. He also left a comment under this entry. At the time, I was in London with Mum and Dad and saw a young woman on the street whose style I really liked. She was wearing a floral skirt and a
denim blouse tied in front of her stomach, but what I liked best was her hairstyle - two high braids in a silvery gray and a straight, frayed fringe. I asked her without further ado if she would like to
make a guest appearance on my blog - and then asked her about her great hairstyle for about an hour.
"The granny look is when you dye your hair on purpose. You also have to feel the look - and not by being in a bad mood. And this room is great," I say, gesturing around the entire room.
"We just need to put a little work into it."
Wren stands up and looks at me for a while. Finally he nods. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"You do not have to apologize. Better hurry up with the other sockets.”
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly before he nods briefly and walks across the room to the next strip. In the meantime, I cover the radiators, which have also seen better days.
I'm just about to google whether radiators can be painted with normal wall paint when the floorboards outside Wren's room creak loudly.
I turn to the doorway, where a tall woman who is definitely Wren's mother stands. She has dark brown skin, the same eyes as Wren, and short dark brown hair. She smiles warmly when she spots
me.
"You must be Ember," she says, coming toward me. She seems so genuinely pleased to see me that I open my arms and give her a quick hug.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitzgerald," I say politely.
»The joy is entirely mine. And please, call me Christine.” She breaks away from me and then looks around curiously. Her eyes land on the cover sheet lying on the floor next to me. "I see
you're already hard at work."
"Ember has big visions for the room," Wren says from across the room, straightening up. "Do you need anything, Mom?"
She shakes her head. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm going shopping. There's supposed to be a Tesco somewhere nearby. Do you need anything?"
Wren thinks for a moment. "Maybe orange juice."
"Noted. Anything else? Ember?"
I shake my head. "No thanks."
Christine nods. Then she looks back and forth between Wren and me. "If you need help painting, just call."
»Sure, Mom.«
With one last warm smile, Wren's mum disappears through the door and leaves us alone again. I turn to him.
“Your mom is beautiful,” I whisper.
»I'm glad you said that. “She used to be a model,” he replies.
"Really?"
He nods. »She walked at fashion weeks in Paris and Milan. But that was almost twenty years ago.”
"Wow. That must have been a great time for her," I say, impressed.
“I don’t know,” Wren says, shrugging. “She doesn’t really talk about it much.”
"Why not?" I ask.
Wren puts a final piece of masking tape on an electrical outlet, then gets up and goes back to the desk. »I think she misses her former life sometimes. In any case, she always changes the subject
as soon as the topic comes up.”
“Oh.” I stand next to him and start to take the rest of my things out of my bag and put them on the desk. »I know that from my dad. He never talks about the time before the accident, almost as if it
didn’t exist.”
Wren gets one of the paint tubs and puts it on the painter's fleece. Then he slowly lifts the lid. Without looking at me, he says: "My mum is in such a weird mood at the moment."
"In what way?"
He takes the paint roller that I hold out to him and then turns it over in his hand, uncertain. »She acts as if she doesn't mind all this, but...« He hesitates for a moment. »Yesterday I heard her
crying in the bathroom. The walls here are pretty
thin."
I bite the inside of my lip. "I don't think this kind of change is easy for anyone," I say quietly. "I'm sure it'll just take a little while for her to get used to everything."
For a moment Wren says nothing. Then he exhales sharply. "I hate it when my mom is sad."
He looks so defeated and so hopeless that I want to go up to him and hug him. But I don't move
from the spot. »It's actually good when you cry because then you don't bottle up your grief.«
Wren nods, although he doesn't look convinced.
"Maybe your mom should stand on the roof and cry loudly to free herself from everything that's bothering her."
Now the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. "Then she would probably scare away the neighbors."
»A good point. Then she'll have to save it for when you're so good friends with everyone here that you don't even know her anymore.
can scare away.«
I spread each brush out on the desk and pick them up one by one, deciding which one to take first.
After a while I notice Wren looking at me, shaking her head. His smile widens.
“What?” I ask.
His gaze slides over my face and he opens his mouth slightly. After a moment, however, he closes it again and presses his lips together tightly.
"Nothing," he finally says, then nods at the paint pot. "Shall we get started?"
“That’s what I’m here for, right?” I say, grabbing a brush and walking to the paint bucket.
The entire time we're painting the walls in Wren's new room, I'm secretly wondering what words he just lacked the courage to say.
Ruby
My bullet journal looks completely different than it did a week ago.
While I have always structured my daily life based on my timetable, the event committee and Oxford preparation, there is now no longer any reason for me to get up at a certain time in the morning
or to do my homework at a
to be completed on a specific date. For the first two days it completely threw me off course, but then I decided that
I refuse to sink into a swamp of misery and have simply created a new routine for myself.
I spend the morning in Gormsey's small local library, where I continue to work through the Oxford reading list and at the same time start preparing for A-Levels. After school, James or Lin
come to my house and give me the supplies
Learning material for each day's lesson, which I prepare as best I can until the evening and try to understand everything that was discussed.
It is strange not to go to school anymore. With each passing day, it is harder for me to overcome this unbearable fear
to get rid of the pain that has been creeping into my veins since Monday and seems to be strangling me. She torments me on every trip to the library and on the fifteen minutes back home. It is
present when I sit with my family and hinders me
trying to fall asleep even though James is on the phone talking to me about anything and everything to distract me.
But I won't admit defeat. And I refuse to accept this situation. James has given Cyril an ultimatum, and as long as it hasn't expired, I'm clinging to the hope that Lexington will find out the truth and
return me
to Maxton Hall. I cannot think at the moment about what will happen if that does not happen. If I
When I do that, I see my future bursting like a soap bubble in my mind's eye. And I just can't stand it.
Ember, on the other hand, presents me with a new alternative every day if Plan A (Oxford. Whatever) doesn't work. Her favorites so far are Plan B (apply for an internship with Alice
Campbell in order to later work at her cultural foundation) and Plan C (drop everything and start a fashion empire with Ember), although she is much more enthusiastic about Plan C than I
am at the moment still am.
I lean back and stretch my arms above my head. The library's chairs, covered in grey fabric, are the opposite
of comfortable. Or stable. In the last three days I have found out that there are exactly two that do not tip over, with one in
a screw slips out at regular intervals. I've had a heart attack twice while studying because the seat shifted out of nowhere and I thought I was going to fall through.
So far, it's always worked out fine. However, I'm pretty sure that William, a pensioner who also visits the library every day, has done exactly the same research on the chairs. Because whenever he
gets there before me, he has already grabbed the non-tip-or-break chair and watches me with an almost mischievous twinkle in his eye as I resignedly pull one of the other chairs up to my
table.
I like him anyway.
When I get to the library on Friday morning, I find that it is closed for inventory and will not reopen until midday. This throws me off course for a moment, but I finally sit down with my book in a
small café and pass the time there. When I show up at the door again at exactly 1:30 p.m., William is already waiting there. For the first time he smiles at me, what
In the evening, as I pack up my things and then leave the small seating area, I respond with a wave.
Happy about this little success, I head home.
“I’m back!” I call after unlocking the door.
“In the kitchen!” comes Dad’s immediate reply.
I slip out of my shoes and hang the thin jacket on the coat rack.
“Today was the first time William smiled at me,” I say as I walk down the hall. "I think he -"
I pause and blink.
My dad is not alone in the kitchen.
James is standing next to him at the work surface.

The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows. In one hand he holds a potato, in the other a peeler. My dad is sitting next to him and is cutting a potato into thin slices.
For a brief moment I'm not sure if this is reality or just a very strange dream.
“What… what are you doing?” I say.
“Potato gratin,” Dad says without looking up from the cutting board.
When I take a closer look at James, I immediately notice that something is wrong.
I can see it in his eyes, his posture and the dark aura that surrounds him.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I try to keep my voice calm, but I can't help the way my shoulders stiffen and my fingers tense on the straps of my backpack.
James clears his throat. He looks at his hands as if he had momentarily forgotten what he was actually doing. Then he looks up again. The corner of his mouth moves up a little. It's not a real smile, just
a measly attempt that leaves a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"I wanted to visit you, but you weren't there," he replies, then nods at Dad. "So your father hired me to help in the kitchen."
Frowning, I look between Dad and James. “I'm not as bad as I feared,” James says, and Dad nods.
"Definitely. We now have more potatoes than peel.”
Under normal circumstances this comment would make me grin, but something tells me there's nothing funny about this situation. The way James stands there with his sleeves rolled up and hair
that looks like he's had his fingers buried in it more than once today. I've never seen him like that before. Normally he fills even the largest rooms with his presence, but now he seems uncertain
and hesitant. As if he doesn't know where he is right now, let alone what to do next.
"Why don't you go upstairs and talk until dinner is ready?" Dad asks suddenly. "You've been a great help, James, but I can handle the rest myself."
James hesitates for a moment, but then he nods and hands Dad the peeler. He puts the potato on the board, then goes to the sink and washes his hands.
I give my dad a grateful smile. He says it back, although I can see his look is worried. I don't know if he's worried about me or James.
I wait until James is finished, then we go upstairs to my room together. I put down my backpack and then turn to James, who has stopped in the middle of the room, undecided.
I carefully take two steps towards him. I look up at him. He looks back at me and again looks like he's trying to smile for me.
"You don't have to smile if you don't feel like it, James," I whisper. I'm afraid he'll disappear at the slightest noise. Probably because I've never seen him like that before. I don't know
what to do. The only thing that seems sensible to me is to give it time.
“I did it,” he finally says harshly. He clears his throat. "I left Beaufort ."
It takes me a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. “What?” I ask, barely audible.
"I saw my father trying to bribe Sutton to stay away from Lydia." He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what happened, but something inside me snapped. I realized how
wrong this all was. And that I can't go on like this."
Almost as if by myself, I raise my hands and place them on his hips.
"I told him I didn't want anything to do with Beaufort anymore and I was going to sell my shares."
I hold my breath.
Just a few weeks ago, James revealed to me that he was afraid of disappointing his mother and destroying her life's work if he did not succeed in following in her footsteps and continuing Beaufort in
her spirit. Breaking away from his father entirely was James' biggest dream, but never a realistic option. No matter how much I wanted it for him. The fact that he did it today - with all the
consequences that this decision will bring with it - is unimaginable for me.
–,
“How did he react?” I whisper.
"He said I didn't need to come back home."
A stabbing pain is felt in my chest, especially when I see how hard it is for James to keep his composure. All the color has drained from his face, and when I take his hands in mine, they are ice cold.
"I don't have a family anymore, Ruby." His voice breaks.
I wrap my arms around him.
His shoulders shake as he returns the hug. He clings to me and I can't help but think of that day when I drove to his house after his mum died and held him in my arms while he cried. That's exactly
how this moment feels.
I don't know how long we stand there like that. The only sounds in the room are our breathing, which is fast and irregular at first, then becomes calmer and calmer.
After a while, James leans back a little and looks at me. His cheeks are flushed, as are his eyes.
“I just... wanted to see you,” he says roughly. "I'm sorry for intruding on you like that."
I immediately shake my head. »I'm glad you came. I want to be there for you."
“When I walked through the door at Beaufort …” James exhales audibly. »I felt so free. Like I can do anything I want now.”
I look at him questioningly.
"I'm slowly realizing what I actually did." He swallows hard. »And what it means for my future life.«
I grab James' hand and pull him with me to the bed. After we sit down, I turn to him, my fingers entwined tightly with his. "No matter what happens, we'll get through this together."
James looks at our hands. His hair falls over his forehead and I want to pull him into my arms again.
"Do you need anything?" I ask instead. "Do we need to get your stuff from your house?"
“No,” says James, clearing his throat. »I picked up the most important things straight away. I also took my car with me. And I have an account that my father
doesn't have access to - my salary from Beaufort is there , as well as everything I've saved over the last few years." He hesitates. »I got a hotel room for
the next week. Right around here.”
I feel tears welling up in my eyes. “You don’t have to go to a hotel,” I say in a choked voice. "I'm sure it's okay if you stay here for now."
“I can’t ask that of you, Ruby. You have enough on your plate.”
I shake my head. "I'm not letting you stay in a hotel, not after everything that's happened."
James sighs, but before he can say anything, I cup his cheeks in my hands. "Stay with us. With me."
James closes his eyes and leans forward until his forehead is resting against mine. I run my fingers gently over his skin.
"I love you, Ruby."
I also close my eyes at his quiet words.
This moment feels special - like the end of something big, but also like a new beginning full of hope and possibility. James deserves this option.
He is the bravest boy I know and I am so proud of him.
And as we hold each other, I whisper exactly that in his ear over and over again.
9
Lydia
After just under a week in Beckdale, I learned the following about my aunt:
There is always something going on at her house. Even when she is not there, you will see friends or colleagues in the hallway carrying papers and catalogues
that they would like Ophelia's opinion on.
My aunt never makes you feel out of place. Since I've been here, she's lovingly taken me under her wing and me
always made aware of being wanted – even when she is making an important phone call or having a meeting with a colleague
from one of Beaufort 's subsidiaries . I think I could even jump on her bed on the trampoline at night and get her out of it
Deep sleep, and yet she would smile at me kindly and give me a high five. She is such a nice person.
Another thing I learned about her is that she is a fan of the Jonas Brothers.
Yes. My forty-two-year-old aunt loves what she calls "snappy pop music" by the Jonas Brothers. Every time a new song by the guys starts, I stare at the
docking station in disbelief. And then my gaze wanders to Ophelia, who is always humming along and tapping at least one foot to the beat.
“Don’t look like that,” she says at that moment, without taking her eyes off her notepad. »SOS is a classic.«
She says it with such conviction that I almost laugh. I quickly turn back to my drawing pad.
We're sitting in Ophelia's office, she behind her desk, me in one of the chairs in the sitting area at the other end of the room. In the
In the last few days I have watched her sketching from here or listened to her phone calls and was surprised to see how
packed their normal working days are.
What I admire most is that, unlike my parents, she not only manages to work from morning to night, but also allows herself a bit of free time. If she has been
in the office for a long time, she spends the rest of the day in hers
Garden or invite your friends over for a glass of wine. Or she sits in her winter garden and draws.
"It's important to create a balance between everything," she said when I asked her how she achieves that. »Beckdale gives me the peace and quiet I need to
regain creative energy.«
I thought about her words for a long time and wondered how it could be that Dad restricted contact with our aunt so much. I remember horrible family dinners
that never ended well and after which Dad always made it sound like Ophelia was some crazy, dubious free spirit who couldn't be trusted to make important
decisions. Slowly but surely I'm realizing that this isn't true at all.
I look at the sketch I've been working on for the past hour. My private lessons don't start until next week, and Ophelia has insisted that I sit and draw with
her during the day. She said it would change my mind. And she said: »I always thought your designs were great. I want to know what direction your style
has taken.”
At first it took me a bit of courage to draw in her presence. I also lacked ideas. But
Now it almost feels normal to sit in the armchair and scribble something on the paper.
"Ruby and James are coming tomorrow," I say after a while and risk a glance at my aunt. She is wearing a floor-length white skirt and a denim shirt that she
has tied at the waist. Her hair is tied in a high, tousled bun, from which a few strands are loose. My mum would never have left the house like that, let alone to
the office, and yet Ophelia sees her
So similar at this moment that I find myself staring at her just a little too long.
"I'm looking forward to meeting Ruby," she says. If she noticed my look, she didn't comment on it. Instead she takes
a sip from her oversized coffee cup - and immediately grimaces. "Oh no, cold." She pushes the cup away from her.
"Should I get you a new one?" I ask, but Ophelia waves me off before I can get up.
"No thanks. It's already so late anyway. If I start drinking coffee again, I'll be awake half the night again." She stretches
and then rises from her chair to come to me.
"Show me," she says.
I pass her my sketch. She shows a sheath dress - simple and elegant. It's the kind of outfit my mum wears almost every day
and I felt strangely connected to her while drawing her.
"Oh," I hear Ophelia say next to me, and her tone tells me she's noticed too. "That's really pretty."
I stare at my drawing and avoid looking at Ophelia.
Since I've been with her, she hasn't pushed me to open up to her. She hasn't asked me about Dad or mentioned my pregnancy, and while on the one hand
I'm glad I don't have to talk about it, her behavior confuses me
also. She treats me like nothing happened and acts like it's completely normal that I'm expecting twins at eighteen
live with her now.
Maybe this is their way of dealing with problems. Or she just wants to give me time until I'm ready to talk to her.
“I’m not sure about the colors yet,” I finally say. »Somehow nothing feels right.«
I feel Ophelia looking at me quietly from the side for a while, then she gently strokes my shoulder. »Your mum told me
I was always advised to listen to my instincts when it comes to something like this.”
I look at the colored pencils on the table in front of me and reach for a light gray one. I turn the pencil over and over, uncertain, while I think of Mum and wonder
what she would have done in my situation.
"I didn't know you and Mum drew together," I say, finally looking up at Ophelia.
“All the time,” she says, dropping into the chair next to mine.
"What for example? Just clothes or other things too?”
Ophelia laughs quietly. "Mostly clothes. But your mum used to draw comics too. Some of them were hilarious."
“Really?” I can’t imagine Mum doing that at all. She was always so serious and only focused on what was important.
»Before she followed in our father's footsteps, Cordelia was much more carefree and sometimes allowed herself to have fun. Or
two."
I try to imagine what my mum must have looked like back then: in casual clothes with disheveled red hair, a sketchpad on her lap. Surprisingly, it's not as
difficult as I expected. A warm feeling spreads through my stomach and I have to clear my throat to clear the lump that has formed in my throat.
"I wish I had seen her like that."
Meanwhile, the music still blaring from the speakers seems completely out of place. It doesn't fit with this serious conversation.
»There are pictures from the time – both of her and of the comics. Your mom left all the photo albums here. If you like, I can
pick them out for you.«
»I would like to see that. Thank you,” I say quietly.
Ophelia slowly moves my sketchpad back and forth on the table.
"We used to imagine together what we would like to do with Beaufort one day ," she continues after a while. "The sketches you used to draw as a young girl..." A cautious
smile plays around the corners of her mouth. She looks briefly at me.
"Your mum and I used to have the same idea. A women's collection. Take the company in a new direction."
“What’s changed?” I ask.
"She met Mortimer. And let him and our father talk her into not breaking with tradition. I hoped for a while that she would change her mind at some point and bring me back on board, but..." Ophelia
shrugs. "Apparently she didn't want that anymore."
For a moment there is silence between us and we both listen to the guitar sounds of the current song.
Then I clear my throat. "Do you think you still have a chance to make this happen?"
"Since Cordelia... is no longer there, I don't believe in it anymore, no." She swallows hard. »Did you know that my name isn't even in the
Will showed up?”
I take a sharp breath. "No, I didn't know that."
I wasn't there when the will was read. Dad had our lawyer sort everything out after Mum died, and I was fine with that. I didn't want to know what my Mum had left me. All
I wanted was to have her back.
“Instead, she left everything to Mortimer. For someone to whom the company's tradition was so incredibly important, she broke with decades of family history.«
"What do you mean?" I ask, frowning.
»For generations, Beaufort has always been passed down to the closest living relative. For our dad, that was Cordelia.
But in her case, the company should actually have been transferred to you or me.
"I can't believe it," I say, perplexed. "Why would she do that?"
»The two of them were an unbeatable team for over twenty years. She probably wanted to make sure things went exactly as they planned.”
I'm about to answer something when a loud ringing alarm makes us jump. Ophelia makes a gesture with her hand, which probably means that our conversation
is not yet over, and at the same moment she jumps up and disappears towards the front door.
Less than half a minute later I hear her calling my name through the stairwell. I listen up. "Yes?"
»You have visitors!«
Frowning, I stand up. I take a look at my watch. It's already just after half past seven in the evening. I wonder if it could be Cyril. James told me he talked to him
about me.
What if he's the one who came? Just the idea makes me clench my teeth and clench my hand into a fist. I slowly go down the stairs. But when I get downstairs and
see who's standing at the front door, my heart skips a beat.
It's not Cyril.
It's Graham.
10
Alistair
Training this Friday is a nightmare.
James, Wren and Cyril don't show up again, which not only puts the team in a bad mood, but almost makes Coach Freeman go crazy. We have to run so many extra laps that I end up
losing my legs and worrying about
has to hand over a hair. I wanted to go home, collapse into bed and spend that whole shitty week
forget.
But then Roger Cree invited us all to the Black Fox for a beer , and since I didn’t want to spend another evening alone,
I went along.
This school year was supposed to be the best year of our lives for the boys and me. Now I can talk about the youthful naivety that we have in...
last summer, just smile wearily. Everything has changed since then: Wren hardly looks us in the eye anymore since he and his family moved. Cyril hasn't been to school all week. James is
desperately trying to help both his
Father as well as Lydia and Ruby.
And I – I had my heart broken by my best friend and now I have to deal with it.
Of course, like the rest of the team, Kesh came to the pub with us. He stands with our backup goalkeeper at a dark wooden table on the other side of the room. I'd love to ignore him, but every time
I look up from the beer in my hand, he sees me
with dark eyes. As if he hadn't looked away once that evening.
I can't help but think of our past. I feel Kesh's hands, his skin, his mouth, hear his voice in my ear, the meaningless words he murmurs while I caress him with my hands.
The fact that I've already finished my third pint isn't helping me push back my thoughts either.
Whenever I think I've gotten over the memory of our time together, just one look from Kesh is enough to bring it all in
full intensity again. I don't know how long this will go on. Especially not if Kesh and I continue
try to maintain our friendship.
I just can't get away from him. No matter how hard I try. And especially not when he pushes me over the rim of his glass
looks like that.
"What's going on with James and the rest of your gang?" Roger asks me suddenly, tearing me out of my thoughts.
"What?" I ask absentmindedly.

He puts his glass down on the table in front of me. "It seems to me now as if you are deliberately tearing this team apart."
I frown at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
»Beaufort hardly ever comes to training anymore because he prefers to hang around with the event committee. I have Fitzgerald and Vega
It felt like I hadn't seen her for weeks. And I don't even need to start talking about your performance. You know yourself how bad you have become
are."
I freeze with the beer in my hand. I would love to pour it over Cree's head. "What do you know?" I ask
challenging. »If James hadn't been suspended from the team last term, you wouldn't have made the team at all. You have no idea what's going on with my friends, so you better be careful
what you say."
Cree just snorts. "I would have made the team anyway. Let's be honest - we all have our own personal problems. That's no reason to skip training all the time. You all take yourselves too seriously,
when in fact you're nothing more than spoiled bastards who have too much money and are bored."
I stand up from my chair so abruptly that it falls backwards. I take a step towards Roger and am about to grab his lapel when someone grabs my shoulder from behind.
I don't have to turn around to know who it is. If I hadn't recognized him by his gentle but firm grip, Kesh would have
betrayed by his unmistakable scent. I love Kesh's smell. So much that I sometimes put his deodorant on after
I borrow training with the excuse that I have forgotten my own - although that is never true.
“It’s okay, Alistair,” his quiet voice sounds behind me.
I shake his hand away without removing Cree's angry gaze. "Take it back."
He laughs humorlessly. »Beaufort can throw parties for days, but he can't make it to training. A captain doesn’t let his crew down like that.”
»You have not even been here for a year and you think you can judge James? You have no idea what the team
owes everything to him. Without him we would never be where we are now."
My voice is so loud that the people standing immediately around us stop their conversations and watch us curiously.
But I don't care. Cree's words made me angry. And I get even angrier when Kesh touches my shoulder again.
I turn to him. "Don't touch me," I growl and shake off his hand.
“I don’t even need to get started on you two,” Cree continues mercilessly. "Honestly, everyone knows now that you -"
The panic that flickers in Kesh's eyes makes me act on my own: I turn around and slam my fist into Roger Cree's face. I feel his bones crunch beneath my knuckles as they land somewhere
between my eye and my nose—or maybe they do
on both. Cree falls to the ground with a pained groan, then a commotion breaks out. Form the other team members
a cluster around us, Kenton helps Cree up, and someone pulls me backwards. But I'm not done yet. I want to open again
I want to get him to shut up and stop badmouthing the most important people in my life.
Unfortunately I can't get far. Kesh drags me outside, around the corner of the building and into the small alley next to the bar. Only there does he let me go. I stand with my back to him, breathing
heavily and with my fists clenched.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he breaks the silence after a few minutes. From here you can still hear the pub's rock music
heard quietly. I try to focus on that alone and not on Kesh, who is standing close behind me - or the fact that I am
I just hit one of our teammates.
You didn't have to do that.
It seems that Kesh and I are constantly doing things that aren't necessary instead of what we actually want to do.
»I don't know what you want to hear from me, Kesh,« I say. Suddenly I feel completely exhausted. As if I had given everything I had.
I have to give.
I can feel him taking a step closer, aware of the warmth of his body behind me. A tingling sensation shoots up my spine.
»I don't want to hear anything.« He puts his hand on my back. More timidly this time. This touch has nothing to do with his firm grip on
just to do. It is familiar and tender.
I swallow dryly.
"Kesh," I say warningly.
He comes even closer, pushes his hand forward over my stomach. His chest brushes my back and I hold my breath.
"Alistair," he whispers back. His hot breath brushes against my ear and goosebumps spread across my entire body.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
No one but Kesh makes me feel this nervous excitement, this electricity-like tingling sensation that runs through me from head to toe and makes me feel weightless.
"I don't know," he replies, slowly running his hand over my stomach.
“I do,” I start hoarsely. Kesh makes a questioning sound. Comes even closer. “If you don't stop, I'll turn to you. I will push you against the wall and kiss you. And we both know what happens
next.”
“I think you have to help me out,” Keshav whispers. He wraps his arm tighter around me. I can feel his chest against mine
back rising and falling faster and faster - and something hard pressing against my bottom. My pulse races. "What happens then, Alistair?"
I let out a snorting laugh. "That's a pretty pathetic attempt to sneak a kiss, Kesh."
Then I gather all my remaining strength, grab his arm and push it away from my stomach. At the same time,
I turn to him on shaky legs, dizzy from the adrenaline still coursing through my body.
I would love to turn around and leave him here. I can't lose myself in him again, not when I know exactly what will follow.
But when he carefully raises his hand and places it on my cheek, I can't move.
"Alistair," he whispers.
I longed to hear my name come out of his mouth again. So much. My mind tells me to turn around
and to leave before it's too late, but when Kesh lowers his mouth to mine, my thoughts stop, and with them all the reasons why I should leave this alone.
I can't help but return the kiss.
Kesh moves his mouth to mine, hesitantly at first, then a little more firmly and confidently. As if by magic, I raise my hands to his face, stroking first his jaw, then his neck, until I finally bury
them in his hair.
Kesh makes a breathless noise. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers close to my mouth.
I hum in agreement.
»It could always be like this.«
The impact comes very quickly and catches me completely off guard. I suddenly realise that we are in a dark alley and this is pretty much the opposite of what I want from Keshav.
I quickly put my hands down and step away from him. "I don't want to be your secret affair, Kesh. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that."
Kesh's eyes flash. "I can't understand why you want to destroy this with us."
"You're the one destroying us!" My loud voice echoes in the alley. I half expect Kesh to cast a worried glance over his shoulder to see if anyone heard us, but he doesn't look away from me.
“The fact that you still don’t understand what this is about just shows me how wrong this all is,” I say, quieter but no less bitter.
"There's nothing wrong with us," he objects.
I look at him, shaking my head. "Kesh. Come on."
"Is that why you broke up with me?" he asks. He now sounds as frustrated as I feel. "Because you think this doesn't mean as much to me as it does to you?"
I exhale in resignation. "If you're not even really together, you can't call it 'breaking up'."
He closes his eyes and takes two deep breaths. He's obviously struggling to keep his composure.
"You're not ready for a relationship yet," I say, feeling heat creep up my neck. »And that's okay. But for me it’s different.”
Kesh takes a step toward me, a pleading look in his eyes. I've never seen him like that before. He's always so damn
closed and doesn't show anyone - not even me - what's really going on inside him. But in this moment his desperation is so clear,
so overwhelming that I can literally feel it.
"I know what it was like with your parents. I..." He interrupts himself and exhales sharply. "I'm just scared."
“I know,” I croak.
Coming out to my parents was the hardest thing I've ever done. But I had no other choice. I wanted to finally be able to be the person I'd always been deep down inside. And that meant
introducing that person to my parents. At the time, I didn't care what the consequences would be. It was like a liberation.
Until I saw the disappointment on my father's face and the tears in my mum's eyes. Until they behaved completely differently towards me than before and I preferred to spend my time with my
friends because I couldn't stand being at home anymore.
I don't want to be the one to push Kesh into something he's not ready for. I am his friend. No matter what happened between us, my job is actually to be there for him, no matter what he
decides. Even if he never tells his parents
will tell, I should support him.
And that's exactly where the problem lies.
I want more than secret kisses and whispered promises that can't be kept anyway, but Kesh can't give me that at the moment. This evening made me realize that once again. This realization is
not new, but it hurts every time.
hurts a little more. Because he's my boyfriend and I feel like I'm losing him even more than I already have. And most of all because I'm in love with him and I don't know how the hell to stop.
The thought makes my eyes burn. I swallow hard and blink several times to make it stop.
“Alistair…” Kesh whispers, taking a step towards me.
I shake my head and look down at the tips of my shoes.
I can't ask him to make our relationship public.
He can't ask me to hide them from the public.
This thing with us will never go anywhere. We both know that.
I look at Kesh's face again, letting my eyes wander from his cheekbones over the slight shadow of his beard to his lips.
I look into his dark eyes. And then I do what I should have done much earlier: I smother the rest of my hope
Keim.
"Maybe we should stay away from each other in the future."
All color drains from Kesh's face. “Alistair—”
Before I can regret my decision, I turn around and leave.
Graham
Lydia's eyes widen when she sees me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks barely audibly.
I open my mouth to answer her, but after a moment I close it again. I can only stand there and stare at her, my fingers clenching around the bouquet of flowers in my hand.
I want to say so many things to her, but at this moment I can't say anything.
Maybe it's the excitement. Or the fact that I'm not sure we still want the same thing. A week ago I thought we had sorted things out between us, but then her father intervened and now I have no
idea where we stand.
I finally want to be the man Lydia deserves. The man she met that first summer. But what if she doesn't want me anymore? What if she's decided she's much better off without me?
“I had to see you,” I say after a while.
Lydia just keeps staring at me.
“Would you like to come in?” Ms. Beaufort chimes in, taking a step to the side.
Instead of answering, I give Lydia a questioning look.
The seconds that pass seem like an eternity. Finally, Lydia nods slowly. I clear my throat and walk down the
last two steps up into the house.
“Go into the winter garden,” Ms. Beaufort says to Lydia. "I'll make some tea for us as long as possible."
I follow Lydia through the hallway into a large living room and from there through two double doors into a cozy-looking winter garden.
Lydia presses a switch as she passes by, and the next moment countless small lamps light up in the wooden floor. Through the windows I can see the landscape surrounding Ophelia Beaufort's
estate. Although I knew from Lydia's stories that she lived in a remote location, I wasn't aware that there was absolutely nothing within a five mile radius other than a small gas station.
"These are for you," I say awkwardly and hand her the flowers.
Lydia takes the pink bouquet of roses, gerberas and chrysanthemums and raises it to her face. A hint of a smile plays around her lips as she smells it. My throat goes dry and I wonder if she is
interpreting my gesture correctly. Whether she
understands how much this moment means to me. Because it's the first time I've given her a gift without first casting a worried glance over my shoulder for fear that someone might be watching us.
Lydia looks at the bouquet for a moment, then clears her throat. "Thanks."
Then there is silence again. I want to look around the room, but it's impossible for me to take my eyes off Lydia. she wears a
oversized light blue shirt and shiny black leggings. Her hair is tied in a messy bun, with some strands sticking out or falling into her face. She doesn't look like the Lydia I know, and the fact that I
Having never experienced her like this before makes me realize how little time we've actually had together so far - and how much I still want to catch up on with her.
Just as the silence between us threatens to become unbearable, Lydia points to the dark brown leather sofa in the middle of the room. She goes over and sits down. As she carefully places the
flowers on the small coffee table in front of her, I see how
Her fingers tremble strongly.
I hate that she feels this way because of me.
I hesitantly go to her, but don't sit on the sofa, but rather on an armchair that's diagonally next to her.
»I was so worried about you,« I say quietly. »You can't write me an email like that and then disappear from the face of the earth.
disappear."
The leather cracks under my weight. I rest one arm on the backrest and turn sideways so that I'm looking directly at Lydia
can. She has placed both hands flat on her thighs.
"I know."
I feel like there's a thick concrete wall between us that neither of us knows how to break down. Just a week ago I thought that if I just took the step and left Maxton Hall, we could be together.
Suddenly I'm not so sure anymore.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?” I ask.

Lydia avoids my gaze and looks at her hands. She strokes her leggings and straightens her blouse.
"Lydia," I whisper when she doesn't answer. I just say her name, but I try to put everything into it: my feelings for her and the trust I still have in both of us.
She raises her eyes again questioningly. I can see tears glistening in her eyes.
"You can tell me everything. No matter what it is. And no matter what your father threatened you with, I won't leave if you don't want me to. I will never pretend we don't know each other
again. I have what I told you at the spring ball
serious. I want to be with you.«
The first tears well up in the corners of her eyes. I immediately slide off the seat of the chair and kneel down in front of her.
She keeps her head down, tears running down her face and dripping onto her legs. I carefully reach out and stroke her damp cheek with my thumb.
"I'm sorry," she says with a trembling voice.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I object and now put my hand all the way to her cheek.
"I dragged you into my mess from the beginning. From the very first moment I was nothing but a burden to you. And now you've lost your job because of me. I'm just ruining everything, Graham."
I shake my head energetically and put my other hand on her face. I wait until she looks at me again.
»You never broke anything. On the contrary, I would have looked for something else either way. Just because it happened like this doesn't necessarily mean it's bad."
Lydia just shakes her head. Seeing her like this almost kills me.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me most. If you let me, I'll stay with you forever now."
“Don’t say things like that,” Lydia says hesitantly and looks at me with tears in her eyes.
“I’m serious,” I whisper urgently, continuing to wipe away her tears with my fingers. "There's nothing you're afraid of
fear.«
She swallows hard. Her whole body suddenly tenses. “Yes, there is.”
“Then talk to me about it,” I reply quietly.
"I should have told you a long time ago," Lydia whispers, and in her sad green-blue eyes I can see the same fear that
reflected in her entire demeanor. "It will..." She clears her throat. "It will turn your life even more upside down than it already is."
My mouth and throat become dry. Her panic is gradually starting to rub off on me, but I can't possibly imagine what
What she wants to tell me is worse than everything we've already been through together.
»Was, Lydia?«
She looks at me through wet eyelashes. I can see exactly the moment when she finally decides to say the words.
"I'm pregnant."
My thumbs freeze on Lydia's cheeks.
“Excuse me?” I say, barely audibly.
"I'm pregnant," she repeats. “With twins.”
I stare up at her. Pressure builds in my chest, increasing until I feel like I'm going to
burst. Lydia's words repeat themselves in my head, gradually combining to form an image that almost takes my breath away.
“Really?” I croak.
She nods. I think she's not breathing - just like me.
A variety of feelings race through me. I can't control them, just like the thoughts racing around in my head. Without hesitation, I lean forward and press my lips to Lydia's forehead. A sob escapes
her throat and I pull her to me and hold her tight. There are no questions, no limits or anything else that comes into question for me at this moment. I gently rock her in my arms.
“I was so afraid to tell you,” she whispers, choked.
I just shake my head.
At this moment I can't let her go. Even though this news should probably have thrown me off track, the opposite happened: I felt deep inside how everything in my life had fallen into place from one
moment to the next. The uncertainty and fear I felt just a few minutes ago have disappeared, and instead joy and excitement are now racing through me, making me dizzy because I'm
breathing in and out far too quickly.
I break away from Lydia. Still kneeling on the floor in front of her, my hands wrapped around her upper arms, I look up at her and say in a trembling voice, "You just made me very happy."
Disbelief comes into her shining eyes. She blinks twice.
The next moment she wraps her arms around my neck. I return her hug, pulling Lydia as close as I can get and just holding her for seconds, minutes, an eternity.
I can't say how long we stay in this position, I just know that it is one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
"I should have told you much sooner," Lydia whispers after a while and leans back a little, but without removing her arms from my neck.
"How long have you known?" I ask.
"Since November."
I close my eyes briefly. "Oh Lydia."
“I didn’t know what to do,” she whispers again, but I immediately shake my head.
“To know that you were so afraid of my reaction…” I let out a shaky breath. "... it's killing me." I look her straight in the eye. "It's the best thing that ever happened to me."
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the corners of her mouth rise.

I gently run my hand over her back.
"I don't know what to do now, Graham."
"Me neither. But we can find out. Together,” I say. "We'll manage it."
Lydia runs her fingers along the back of my neck. A slight shiver runs through me as her fingers move further forward along my jaw and over the stubble on my chin.
»I'm so glad you're here,« she whispers. Her gaze wanders briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. Back down again. In
The next moment she leans forward, very slowly. I close my eyes and meet her halfway.
When our lips meet, it's like lightning strikes my stomach.
There are endless things we urgently need to talk about. But this kiss seems like a promise. He promises that we will leave the past behind us. And that at this moment something new begins
for us.
11
Ruby
On Saturday morning, I go downstairs as usual to help Dad with breakfast, but first I cautiously glance into the living room to see if James is awake. The sheet, blanket and pillow are neatly
folded in the middle of the couch, but there is no sign of James. I turn around and walk to the kitchen, where I stop in the doorway, surprised.
James is alone. He is standing at the counter and is busy squeezing oranges. His hair still seems damp from the shower.
and he's wearing dark jeans and a white T-shirt that shows off his shoulders. I watch his arm tense as he presses an orange half onto the press and I swallow hard. There's something
intimate about him standing in our kitchen preparing breakfast.
I think I could get used to the sight. Just as I could get used to spending evenings with him on the couch.
spend and talk late into the night like we did yesterday.
I cross the room as quietly as possible. I hug James from behind and wrap my arms around his stomach. He tenses up briefly, probably because he is frightened, but after a moment he relaxes
again.
"Good morning," I whisper.
James turns to me and smiles crookedly. "Good morning," he says just as quietly. Then he leans towards me and gently presses his lips to mine. The kiss tastes of oranges and I sigh,
leaning against James until his back is against the countertop.
He grabs my hips and pulls me even closer to him.
His stomach feels hard against mine and I'm just about to slide my hand under his shirt when I hear Dad come into the kitchen.
James jumps away from me, at the same time I reach forward for support and bump into a carafe, from which juice immediately spills out and lands in a small orange puddle on the counter.
“Good morning, you two,” Dad says from behind me. I give James a sideways glance and have to press my lips together tightly to stop myself
to laugh. He stands there like a soldier, with stiff shoulders and flushed cheeks.
“I... I wanted to make breakfast,” he says, pointing unnecessarily at the puddle of orange juice.
Dad just nods. His eyes sparkle with amusement. He knows full well that James has crazy respect for him - and he shamelessly takes advantage of it, which is mean but kind of funny at the same
time.
The moment stretches for several more seconds until Dad finally feels sorry for James. "Would you like scrambled eggs?" he asks.
“Gladly,” I say, and James also murmurs in agreement. Then I wipe away the small puddle of juice and start setting the table.
Meanwhile, James starts squeezing the remaining orange halves.
“Did you sleep well?” Dad asks him.
"Yes. The sofa is very comfortable. Thank you again.”
Dad just waves it off.
After Mum came home and we told her what had happened, she didn't think twice and immediately offered James to stay with us until things with his father were sorted out. I smiled at her
gratefully, but only until the moment when she took me aside for a moment and made it clear to me with a serious expression that she trusted us and that I shouldn't abuse that trust. After that,
I couldn't look her in the eye for about half an hour.
"James and I are going to Lydia's after breakfast today, Dad," I say.
“Do you need the car?”
I shake my head. "No, we'll take James's."
"Very good, your mom and I wanted to run a few errands today." Dad opens the drawer to his right and takes out a pan, which he places on the stove in front of him.
“Your father has been looking forward to going shopping for new knives all week,” says Mum, who enters the kitchen at that moment. "Good morning you two."
“Good morning,” James and I reply at the same time.
Mum pulls a chair out from under the table and sits down. She looks around the kitchen. "Is that fresh orange juice?"
James nods and holds out a filled glass. "Here."
"Well," says Mum, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "I could get used to that."
Without taking my eyes off James, I say quietly, “Me too.”
James
"What is your favorite color?"
I can't believe that's the question Ruby chose for me. In the same breath, I wonder
However, the fact that she didn't ask it much earlier - it's so typical Ruby that I have to smile.
"If you have to think about it for so long, it's not your favorite color," she notes when I don't answer immediately.
I look through the windshield at the road ahead of us. We have already driven about an hour and a half, and we still have about half of it to go. It is strange to drive such a long distance by
car, but at the same time I have rarely felt
felt as comfortable as I do at this moment, with Ruby next to me.
We started asking each other questions last night and I love how at ease we are despite everything
can talk to each other.
“Green,” I finally say.
I glance to the side and see her nose wrinkle slightly. Apparently she is not satisfied with my answer.
"There are hundreds of thousands of different shades of green. You have to be a bit more specific."
I shrug because there's no way I can answer "The green of your eyes" without immediately throwing up on the dashboard of the car. But it's the truth. Before I met Ruby, I didn't have a
favorite color.
Already.
“That beautiful puke green,” I answer instead, nodding at her lap where her backpack is lying. Although Ruby can't possibly have packed more than me, who still got all sorts of things from
Lydia's room, the thing seems to be bursting at the seams.
»Hey! My backpack has served me well for years, leave it alone.”
"Ember said this morning that you've been using it since kindergarten."
“That’s not true at all,” she says angrily. "He's only six."
"Maybe I misheard and she said the backpack is old enough to go to kindergarten."
Then she sticks her tongue out at me. At that moment, the desire to kiss her is so damn strong that I have to tighten my grip on the steering wheel to keep from reaching for her.
Although I want to control my thoughts, I can't. Even though Ruby is sitting right next to me, I long for her. Last night almost drove me crazy. I spent it lying awake, trying desperately not to
think about the fact that my girlfriend was just a few steps away from me, wearing nothing but short, polka dot pajamas.
For the thoughts that followed, I will go to hell.
"If you like, you can have the James back," I suggest hoarsely, without taking my eyes off the country road. I concentrate on the roar of the engine and the green fields and hills rushing past.
Anything to distract myself from the fact that my pants have gotten tighter in the crotch because my imagination has moved in a naughty direction again.
“That would be great,” she says, but suddenly sounds so dejected that my dirty thoughts immediately evaporate.
»But I don’t need a school bag anymore for now.«
»The James is an all-rounder. You can use them for anything. “Besides, you’ll be back in Maxton Hall by the week after next at the latest,” I say
I definitely do.
That at least makes her smile, and out of the corner of my eye I see her shoulders relax a little.
"You're right. Maybe that bag really isn’t a bad idea.”
"My ideas are never bad, Ruby Bell."
She snorts softly, and it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Triumph floods my stomach.
I'm so glad we can finally have this - to be able to spend a Saturday together and be close to each other without each other
tearing someone apart, be it Cyril, my dad, Ruby's parents, or anyone else in the world. It feels like a dream that Ruby let me back into her life despite everything that happened.
“Do you know what I was just thinking?” she asks suddenly.
»Hm?«
"It's so strange to see you driving yourself," she says, amused. “I only know you eating or drinking in the back of your limo.”
Now I'm the one snorting.
"I didn't even know you had a car."
“I got it as a gift for my driver’s license,” I say. "But to be honest, it was just sitting in the garage most of the time."
“Don’t you like it?” Ruby asks, looking around the inside of the black coupe.
"It's not that," I answer a little late. "Percy has driven Lydia and me since we were children. I can hardly remember days
remember places I didn't see him. And now …"
"And now?"
I shrug my shoulders. “Now he won’t drive me anymore.”
"Have you been in contact with him?" Ruby asks cautiously, and I shake my head.
"No."
"Why not?"
»Driving me was his job. I can imagine he doesn’t want to hear from me anymore.”
"Do you really believe that?" Ruby asks skeptically. When I just shrug, she says: "He's known you and Lydia since you were born.
I'm sure this is affecting him deeply, especially after everything that's happened."
"Do you think?"
She needs a moment to search for the right words. "When he drove me to Pemwick a few weeks ago, we talked briefly about your mum. It seemed to me that her death had affected him deeply."
I don't want to worry about that. No - I ca n't worry about that. There can't be another person to
that I have to worry about.
Ruby looks at me from the side for a while. I expect that she won't drop the subject so easily, but then she just
her hand over mine on the gear stick.
"You look tired," she says. "Are you really okay with the sofa?"
"It's more than just okay," I say honestly. It wasn't the sofa's fault that I barely slept a wink.
"If you get a backache, I can sleep at Ember's and give you my bed."
I swallow dryly. A night in Ruby's bed, surrounded by her smell and the things she cares about, knowing there's only a wall separating us? I do not think so.
“I like your sofa,” I say, a little more forcefully than necessary. "Do not worry. Besides, I'm not
Any questions?'
"Oh. True."
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ruby sit up a little. I have to suppress a smile.
»Okay… What’s your favorite animal?«
"Penguins," says Ruby without thinking.
“Penguins?”
She nods. "Definitely, yes. They look like they're wearing little tailcoats. They're also totally romantic and live with their partner forever once they've found
him."
"Really?"
»Yeah, isn't that interesting? To be honest, you have to say that they will look for a new partner if they can't find their old one again after the winter. But
otherwise they live monogamously. And they give each other gifts. That’s really cute.”
»Gifts? What, for example?«
»Small pebbles. They are actually buried under the ice. And it's really tiring to shovel one free. So it's a great token of love when you, as a penguin, are
brought one."
I glance at Ruby. "I think I understand what you like about them."
»Ember and I once watched a documentary about a pair of penguins. We both cried.”
I shake my head, laughing.
“It’s my turn again,” says Ruby. “Tell me a place where you would like to be kissed.”
My laughter has given way to a gentle smile. "That's no question."
She sighs. "Where would you like to be kissed?"

»From you? Everywhere.«
"James," she admonishes me, but when I glance her way I can see she's smiling.
"Let me think for a moment."
There are so many places I still want to go with Ruby, so many things we haven't shared yet and things I still want to experience with her in the future.
The thought of our future together makes my heart beat faster. I can see it very clearly in front of me: Ruby and I in an apartment where we live together, a
kiss that is everyday but still romantic. It is full of deep feelings and a familiarity that has grown over the years. The image sends a pleasant shiver through my
body.
I want a kiss like that.
But I know that now is not the time to tell her something so important.
"I was serious about everywhere," I say after a while. "But I wouldn't mind a kiss in a library.
Surrounded by books, secretly, but at the same time in public… I think that would be something.«
»Hm.«
»You don't sound satisfied with my answer.«
“I just kind of expected you to say something like, ‘On a yacht in Starfall’ or something.”
»On a yacht in the rain of stars? Are you serious?"
She punches me lightly in the upper arm. "I don't know what's going on in your head."
“What would you answer?” I ask.
She thinks for a while. I sense the moment when she decides on an answer. The atmosphere in the car is much more charged from one second to the
next.
"I want to be kissed in Oxford again," she says quietly.
I'm currently thinking about our night together in Oxford. How Ruby yelled at me and then grabbed me. How we stumbled through the door and fell onto the
bed. The way she buried her hands in my hair.
I have to clear my throat. "A kiss in Oxford," I say roughly. "Noted."
At this moment I resolve to fulfill her wish.

12
Ruby
"We always played catch here," James tells us as we get out of the car and walk along the wide gravel path from the parking lot to the front door.
“You can train for a marathon here,” I say and look around in amazement.
To the right and left of us stretches a broad meadow, on which stand several cherry trees, most of which are still bare, but here and there are already green leaves.
The grounds of Ophelia's country estate are enormous, not to mention the manor house that looms before us. It is an eighteenth-century building, not unlike the
Beauforts' home, with its many flowerbeds and
flowering shrubs planted around the walls, but looks much friendlier and more inviting.
“We used to be here a lot, but in the last few years that has become less and less,” says James. 'Mum once said that Ophelia wasn't at all happy when this
property was deeded to her because it also meant that she had to stay out of Beaufort 's affairs from then on . I still remember family dinners where she would try to
please Mum and Dad
persuade her to bring her back on board. At one point it got so bad that she left the room crying because the situation had escalated.
After that we hardly came back and only saw her at home or at business meetings in London.
I give James a sideways glance. “It must be terrible when you would like to get involved but are so uncompromisingly excluded.”
We walk side by side in silence for a moment, then James exhales audibly. "On the one hand, I have really nice memories of this place, but on the other
hand, I have to think of the moments when Dad and Ophelia used to pick on each other.
I don't know how to feel right now."
James stares straight ahead, lost in thought. I can see that he is trying to hide how much this whole situation is affecting him. But he can't fool me, and he knows it.
As we come to a stop in front of the impressive door, I grab his hand and smile encouragingly at him.
He returns my smile, takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell.
The moment I hear the loud gong ringing through the interior of the house, I suddenly realize how excited I am. I kept thinking about James and Lydia, forgetting that I
didn't know their aunt at all.
Hopefully she's nice, I think.
When James has talked about his aunt over the last few days, it's clear that he cares about her. I don't think I could bear it if another member of the Beaufort family couldn't stand me - especially
one whose opinion James values so highly.
The door opens with a loud creak and I hold my breath.
"James, Ruby," calls a woman in a dark green jumpsuit, beaming at us. She looks very similar to Cordelia Beaufort. Only when you look more closely can you see the
differences between her and James' mother. Her face looks softer and younger, which is especially evident in the broad smile with which she greets us. "It's great that
you made it."
James takes a step forward and gives Ophelia a quick hug. “This is Ruby,” he then says. He places a hand on my lower back.
"Ruby, this is my Aunt Ophelia."
“I’m really excited to finally meet you, Ruby,” Ophelia says, holding out her hand for me to shake.
I gratefully take it. “I feel the same,” I reply.
Ophelia waves us into the house. »Come in, breakfast is already ready for you.«
We follow her down a long hallway and I look around curiously. The house also looks inviting and cheerful inside, with abstract, modern pictures and colorful wallpaper.
I feel comfortable here right now.
"I heard you like reading manga, Ruby," Ophelia suddenly says, and I look at her in surprise.
"Yes, that's true," I answer.
“Do you watch anime too?” Ophelia asks.
I join her and James in the door and nod. "I love anime."
»I have a weakness for animated films and wanted to try my hand at anime soon. Unfortunately, this is something that has so far completely
passed by. Maybe you can recommend a few to me.”
I beam at her. "I would love to."
"You have to be careful when you ask Ruby for something like that, Ophelia. She'll give you a list longer than a marathon."
"Hey!" I say indignantly.
James just grins.
»Then I would have something to do. So don't force yourself, Ruby," Ophelia says, throwing a smile over her shoulder at me.
We walk to the end of the hallway, then Ophelia opens a large dark door on the left and indicates that we should go through first.
I enter the cozy dining room – and come to an abrupt stop when I see who is sitting at the lavishly set table.
I was prepared to spend the day comforting a sad Lydia. The last time I saw her, she seemed desperate and hopeless.
What I wasn't expecting was to see Lydia beaming at the breakfast table. Not just radiant – laughing. And I was just as unprepared to see my history teacher next to
her, gently stroking her back with his hand.
“Hello, you two,” James says, as if he, unlike me, isn’t surprised by the sight.
Lydia and Mr Sutton drive around to us. The next moment Lydia jumps up. She throws her arms around James and hugs him tightly. He wraps both arms around her and
closes his eyes.
"Thank you for telling him where I am," Lydia whispers.
“I was hoping he would come to you,” James whispers back, so quietly I can barely hear his words. In any case, bring Lydia
to smile. After a short moment she breaks away from him and comes to me to hug me too.
"It's so good to see you," I say.
"Likewise," she replies, hugging me a little tighter.
“Sit down,” says Ophelia, pointing to the two place settings that still look unused. "I'll quickly make us another pot of tea."
When I don't move immediately, Lydia takes my hand and pulls me with her to the table. "You all know each other," she says, looking back and forth between James, Mr Sutton and me.
"Er, yeah," I say as James nods. We sit down across from Lydia and Mr Sutton and then there's an odd silence between us. I can't help but stare at my former history teacher. No matter what I know
about his and Lydia's relationship, it's downright weird to see him in jeans and a t-shirt.
“Good morning, you two,” Mr. Sutton finally breaks the silence.
“Good morning, Mr. Sutton,” I reply automatically, but immediately stiffen. I sound like I'm in school. Oh man.
Mr Sutton makes a slightly pained face. “Perhaps it's best to call me Graham from now on, Ruby. I’m not your teacher anymore.”
I think for a moment. "I'll probably never be able to call you anything else. Or maybe it will take several years," I finally say.
The corners of his mouth twitch slightly. "In order."
“What are you waiting for?” Ophelia asks as she comes back into the room with a pot of tea in her hand. She pours our cups and then sits at the head of the table. “Help yourself.”
I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect the atmosphere at breakfast to be so casual and relaxed. I watch Mr. Sutton - Graham - Lydia hand a basket of toast and Ophelia shovel a batch of
scrambled eggs onto James' plate, and I think about the one dinner I had in the presence of James and Lydia's father. The difference to the atmosphere here couldn't be greater.
I think James seems as confused as I am because it takes me a few minutes before I notice his shoulders start to relax.
“I have to tell you something,” he says after a while, turning to Lydia.
She pauses with the knife in the butter. "That sounds serious."
James hesitates, then nods. Finally, he tells what happened the day before.
When he finishes, Lydia's cheeks are red with anger and Ophelia is shaking her head in disbelief.
“Dad has really lost his mind,” Lydia says.
Ophelia wipes her hands on a cloth napkin, which she then places next to her plate. "That's typical Mortimer. If something doesn't fit his image, he gets rid of it. That's the only reason I ended up
here in Beckdale."
Silence spreads between us. Nobody touches their food anymore.
“Ruby,” Lydia says after a moment. She looks at Graham and then back at me. “Graham and I talked last night. About Maxton Hall. And we have come to the conclusion that we will
tell Principal Lexington about our relationship.
Morning."
I stare at her in disbelief. "What? Are you crazy? I …"
"It's the only option," she interrupts.
“Your father sent you here to keep your condition a secret. You can’t run down to Maxton Hall and tell the Headmaster of all people!”
Lydia shakes her head. "I don't care what my dad wants. I can't ask you to be punished for my - our - mistake."
I look between her and Graham in disbelief. Then I turn to James.
"What about Cyril?" I ask him. "You gave him until Monday to tell Lexington the truth."
James nods. "Wait, Lydia. If Cyril hands over the original pictures, no one will be punished." He turns to Graham. "And you won't be suspended."
Graham shakes his head. "I won't be going back to Maxton Hall anyway." His eyes shift to Lydia and he smiles slightly. »In the near future I just want to be there for Lydia. And then we’ll see what
happens,” he adds.
“What Cyril did…” Lydia swallows. »I never thought he was capable of something like that. And I refuse to put Ruby’s fate in his hands.”
Her words send goosebumps spreading across my arms.
“Lydia…” James starts, but she shakes her head.
»My decision is made.«
James presses his lips together and returns her gaze. After a few seconds, he exhales audibly. "It's your decision."
“That’s not how I imagined it,” I say quietly.
"I appreciate what you've done for me, Ruby," Lydia says, reaching across the table for my hand. But this has to stop now. First thing tomorrow I'm going to pay Principal Lexington a visit."
“How on earth do you know where he lives?” I ask, my heart beating so fast. It feels like something is actually about to change. As if I would soon no longer be in limbo and see my future continue
to crumble.
"I don't know." Lydia looks between James and me, an almost sly smile spreading across her lips. "But luckily I know where and with whom Lexington spends his free time."
13
James
Rash actions are part of growing up. I'm ready to forget the whole thing if you're over on Monday at three o'clock
our board meeting. The date is in your calendar. Don't disappoint me.
Best regards
Mortimer Beaufort
I delete my father's email without replying. My pulse shot up when I saw it in my inbox, but now I can only shake my head. He doesn't even have time for a greeting and uses his official signature -
even in emails to his children. To be honest, I'm not surprised that he thinks my decision was made in the moment. After all, he ignored all the signs for years that suggested I didn't want anything
to do with Beaufort .
The fact that he is writing to me now, not to bring me back home, but to save face in front of the rest of the board, only further confirms that I did the right thing.
And at some point it won't hurt anymore. I'm sure of that.
I put the phone next to me on the bed and look around the room where Ophelia has put Ruby and me up. It is the guest room where Lydia and I used to sleep when we visited. Even then
we had the
The interior could not have been more different from ours in Pemwick: from the floral wallpaper to the box-spring bed to the heavy, far too long velvet curtains. It sometimes seems as if Ophelia
had
taken from the street and then put up in his house. Nevertheless, I always felt comfortable.
The vibration of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts. I see the arrival of a new email, and when I see the sender's name, every muscle in my body tenses for the second time that evening.
It's from Cyril.
I hesitantly unlock the display.
I'm sorry.
Not more. I swallow hard and open the attachment. The photos I took of Ruby and Mr Sutton are gradually being loaded
I made them. They are the originals, I can tell immediately. I exhale sharply, even though my stomach suddenly feels queasy when I look at the pictures.
I remember exactly what I was thinking and feeling when I made them. I didn't know what kind of person Ruby was and I wanted to protect Lydia and make sure she was never hurt like she was
again. I didn't care what the consequences would be if the pictures were made public.
With my cell phone in my hand, I go to the narrow door that leads to the adjoining bathroom. I knock.
“You can come in,” Ruby says.
I open the door. "You won't believe what -" I begin, but the words get stuck in my throat.
I thought Ruby had showered and was ready. But instead she sits in the large corner bathtub. She has her hair in one
Tied up in a knot, strands of it have fallen out and become wet, now curling at the nape of her neck. I
I swallow hard as my gaze becomes independent and moves further downwards. Drops of water glisten on her bare shoulders, and even though the bathtub is overflowing with foam, I can see her
skin showing through in places.
"Is everything okay?" Ruby asks, frowning and sitting up a little.
I have to clear my throat. “Cyril sent me the originals of the pictures,” I finally croak and pick up the phone.
»Really?« Ruby says in disbelief and leans forward a little to get a better look at the display. »I was hoping
almost given up.«
"I told you we could fix this," I say harshly.
I'm too distracted by the sight of her wet body to think clearly. I clear my throat again.
“What do we do now?” she asks after a while. I realize her voice sounds just as hoarse as my own.
I should probably go now.
“I'll give it to Lydia. It's best if I do it right away. We can talk about it later. I did not want to bother you. Relax yourself
I turn around and am about to go back through the door when Ruby's voice makes me stop.
“James?” she asks, barely audible. Still, it goes through me like lightning.
I turn back to her with a questioning sound. Her cheeks are flushed and she clears her throat.
“Do you…don’t you want to stay here?”
I swallow dryly and open my mouth, but I am speechless.
Ruby's face turns even redder. »You don't have to either. I -"
That frees me from my paralysis. “Of course I want to stay with you,” I say and slowly lower my hand from the knob. "If
I may?"
She nods. Just once, a determined look in her eyes.
She doesn't need to ask me again.
I pull the door shut and turn the key. The moment the click sounds, everything fades into the background: my father, Cyril, Maxton Hall. Everything except Ruby, who is sitting naked in the
bathtub not two meters away from me, waiting for me
looks at.
It's the first time in ages that we're alone. Unlike this morning, no one can come into the room now
and make sure we jump apart in a rush. It's just her and me here.
Without taking my eyes off Ruby, I put the phone down on the washstand. Then I lower my hands to the hem of my shirt and
slowly pull it over my head. I let it fall to the floor and then take off my socks. As I unbuckle my belt,
Ruby's gaze darkens. She lets it wander down my body and follows my movements as I peel off my pants and then my boxer shorts.
Now I can't hide from her anymore. And right now I don't want to - even if the way she pulls her lower lip between her teeth causes even more blood to rush to my groin.
Without hesitating any longer, I climb into the bathtub with Ruby. The water is still warm, so warm that a light steam rises from the
where I push the foam away with my body. Ruby watches me incessantly as I dive in completely and then
slowly come to her until I can rest both arms on the edge of the tub at her sides. A slight smile plays around the corners of her mouth.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hi,” she replies just as quietly. She lifts her wet hands and cups my face with them. She strokes my cheeks with her thumbs. I close my eyes and lean in to kiss her. Ruby sighs softly as our lips
meet. Your grip
solidifies and she pulls me even closer to her. Her breasts brush against my skin, sending tingles up my spine.
“Thanks for coming with me today,” I say between kisses.
Ruby slides her hands down my face and places them on my chest. "I'll go anywhere with you, James."
My heart is beating rapidly, and when I open my eyes again, there is warmth and confidence in Ruby's gaze.
Every time she looks at me like that, I want nothing more than to become the person she deserves.
»And I'll go anywhere with you.«
Ruby wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her bare back and pull her tightly against me. Water splashes from the bathtub onto the floor, but we don't care.
This time when we kiss, we don't stop for quite a while.
Lydia
“Shouldn’t we really come in?” asks Graham for the third time that morning.
I turn to him and reach across the center console of the car for his hand. Then I slowly shake my head.
"No. This is something I have to do alone."
He frowns, obviously unhappy with my decision.
"It feels like we're sending you to the lion's den," Ruby says from the back seat. In the mirror I can see that she is very pale with excitement.
"What else is going to happen?" I ask as I unbuckle my belt. "I've already been kicked out of my house. I'm not going back to Maxton Hall. It's going to go wrong, Ruby. Trust me."
James opens his mouth and Graham looks like he wants to say something too, but I don't give them the chance.
I resolutely open the door of the car and get out. Without looking back, I cross the golf resort parking lot and go to the
Entrance. I leave my sunglasses on my nose as the sliding doors open and I enter the foyer. At the reception desk, I receive a friendly nod. I have no idea whether the young man recognizes me,
but his gaze wanders to my stomach and lingers there for a second. His smile doesn't slip - he's too experienced in understanding what the bulge means for that.
–, but still I recognize the moment when he realizes what
The dark blue dress with a wide shoulder neckline that I chose this morning hugs my body like a second skin and leaves no questions unanswered when it comes to my stomach. It's the first time
in months that I've worn something form-fitting
and I still have to get used to the feeling of no longer hiding from the outside world.
I smile at the receptionist before I cross the hall in long strides and go to the back of the restaurant area where
where Dad and his friends usually hang out after a few rounds of golf. As a child he often took me and James here.
Not because he wanted to teach us golf, but to show us off to his friends when they brought their children. I remember the conversations they had over our heads and how Alistair, James
and
I played hide and seek on the huge grounds so that we weren't quite so bored.
The heels of my shoes click on the shiny marble floor as I enter the restaurant. I recognize my father from afar. He and several other men are sitting at a round table near the large windows
that overlook the lush green hills and the small lake of the golf course. The closer I get, the clearer I can hear their voices.
hear. Someone makes a joke that makes my dad tilt his head back and laugh out loud. A sound that is foreign to me
because I haven't heard from him in ages.
I take one last deep breath and then go to the table. Immediately five pairs of eyes are on me and my father's laughter dies down
suddenly.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. His gaze stays on my stomach and all the color drains from his face. Hectic
he looks at his friends, and I almost expect him to get up at any moment to cover my body with his.
"I'm not here because of you," I answer firmly.
I am proud of how cool I sound, even though my chest tightens when I see my dad. The image of him throwing my phone against the wall and then starting to tear apart my closet like a man
possessed comes to mind.
in front of my eyes. I briefly touch the cheek where his hand hit me.
Dad must be thinking about it too. I see it in his eyes, in which a brief flicker of pain appears. But it disappears just as
quickly, as it came.
I tear my gaze away from him and turn instead to the man sitting across from him.
"Mr. Lexington, do you have a second?" I ask.
The principal's steely gaze goes from me to my dad and back. Without the rimless glasses and suit he wears to school,
he looks like a different person.
"If you would like an appointment, Ms. Beaufort, please call the office tomorrow morning," he finally says.
I shake my head. "The matter is urgent."
Apparently he hears how serious I am, because he looks at me carefully. Then his gaze lands on my stomach. A long pause
arises when I hold my breath.
Finally he nods. »Okay.«
He pushes the chair back and stands up.

I look at Dad. He sits stock still in his seat, clutching his water glass tightly, and shows no emotion as Lexington takes the initiative and leads me toward the foyer.
Once there, he points to the seating that is set up in the middle of the foyer. I shake my head. I have to stop for what I have to say to him. This isn't going to be a comfortable conversation.
"Mr. Lexington, I need to speak to you about Ruby Bell's suspension," I begin, looking him straight in the gray eyes.
He blinks, perplexed. “Ms Beaufort,” he says. “I really can't discuss other students' affairs with you. I’m sure you understand that.”
"You made a big mistake on Monday. And I want to make it right."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He's still speaking in a calm tone, but I've already noticed the throbbing vein in his temple.
"Ruby isn't the one who had an affair with Graham Sutton - it was me."
Lexington's eyes widen. "Ms. Beaufort -" he starts, but I interrupt him.
"If you don't believe me..." I put my hands on my hips. "You can see the proof here," I say, nodding to my stomach.
Lexington looks down, then back at my face. He clears his throat vigorously, takes a deep breath, and repeats the whole thing again.
"Ms Bell was clearly recognizable in the pictures."
»The images have been edited. In reality, Ruby and Graham were just chatting about the event.”
I reach into my purse, pull out my phone and pull up the pictures James sent me last night. Then I hold the display up to Lexington.
He narrows his eyes and leans forward. I can watch his expression go from skeptical to disbelieving to deeply concerned. Shaking his head, he rubs the bridge of his nose with his
finger. "Jesus Christ, Mortimer, what have you done?" he murmurs so quietly I can barely hear it.
»My father wanted to protect me. In his own quirky way,” I say automatically. I don't know why I feel like I have to justify myself to my dad.
Lexington looks at me thoughtfully. A deep frown has formed between his brows. "I have been principal of this school for over twenty years, but something like this... I have never experienced
anything like this."
»I am ready to give a written statement. Graham too. We will do everything we can to ensure Ruby can graduate. “She shouldn’t be punished for our mistake, sir,” I say forcefully.
Lexington nods. "Ms. Bell can come back to school on Monday. I will contact her mother immediately."
"I'm sorry I ambushed you with this over the weekend," I say. "But I couldn't keep it to myself for a second longer."
»Thank you for your honesty. That can’t have been easy for you.”
I just nod and hold out my hand to him.
"I wish you all the best, Ms. Beaufort," says Lexington, giving her a quick shake.
Then I turn on my heel and walk through the foyer. Once outside, I take a deep breath and close my eyes briefly. The sun tickles my nose and I am overcome by a feeling of immense euphoria.
I walk across the parking lot back to the others. Ruby, James and Graham have now gotten out. Graham is leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets, Ruby is leaning close to James, who
is whispering something in her ear. When she sees me, she stops, her eyes questioning.
I smile at her victoriously.
The next moment Ruby breaks away from my brother and comes towards me with quick steps.
“I’m the best!” I shout at her and throw my arms up in the air.
She looks at me in disbelief. I bridge the last distance to her at a run. I take Ruby by the shoulders and beam at her.
“Your suspension is lifted effective immediately,” I say.
Ruby gasps. "No."
I nod. "But."
“No!” The next moment she throws her arms around my neck. She squeezes me so tightly that I can hardly breathe.
“Thank you,” she sobs. "Thank you thank you thank you."
I return her hug tightly. I close my eyes for a brief moment and enjoy this feeling. I finally said what I've kept secret for so long. For the first time, I was open about my pregnancy -
without feeling ashamed. And I helped my friend. I can't imagine ever feeling better in my life than I do right now.
"I love you, Ruby," I say quietly.
"I love you too. And how," she replies.
I open my eyes without moving away from Ruby and look at James. I can tell from his crooked smile that he is at least as touched as Ruby and I are at this moment.
Then I let my gaze wander to Graham. The promises of the past nights lie in his eyes. For the first time I feel like everything is really going to be okay. No matter how long it takes.
14
Ruby
As I drive to school on Monday morning, it feels like I imagined the chaos of the past week. My bullet journal lies on my lap, in which I trace the line of a new heading with a black pen:
Monday. I
meticulously not to go over the pencil line that I had already drawn at home. When I am finished,
I turn the page and a smile spreads across my face. Colors are back in my life.
For this day, the following points are entered in turquoise, pink, purple and a mint green that I have never used before:
First day of school after suspension!
Let Lin update me on the planning for the bonfire (+ telling her several times how much I appreciate her
missed)
Read about Ember's blog post and answer the requests from the weekend (+ give her sisterly love and maybe
find out who she secretly spends so much time with)
Cooking with James (<3)
Since last night, James has had his own color in my Bullet Journal. The look he gave me when I showed him the
Even now, hours later, the words I announced still give me goosebumps. As does the memory of his lips moving up and down my neck, or his hands gently sliding under my sweater, eliciting
sounds from me that I tried to stifle in my pillow.
“Are you sure it's a good idea to do this on the bus?” James asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I feel my face warming and clear my throat. "You underestimate my abilities."
He eyes the black book on my lap. »I just don't want you to paint over it. Last week you had me with one after that
Pen dropped.”
"That was an exception. The site was frustrating me. And last week was also... last week," I explain, tracing the bottom flourish of the G. "This week everything will be better."
At that moment the bus stops so abruptly that I slide forward and have to brace myself on the seat in front of me to avoid breaking my nose. I look at my bullet journal in shock: a black line runs
across my freshly designed page.
“Argh! No!” I look reproachfully at the bus driver. He doesn't care about my look, closes the front door and accelerates again. "The
It's only because you're here, James. I've designed countless pages on the bus - nothing like this has ever happened to me before."
“Now you’re acting like I insisted we take the bus,” he replies dryly. »If we had driven by car we would have been to school in half the time.«
“I wanted to take the bus to celebrate.” I point the pen at James. “You would have loved to have been able to drive.”
“First of all, I didn't want to let you drive alone. And secondly, you have the talent to make boring things like a bus ride sound completely relaxing and beautiful, even if that's not the case at all.
He watches me for a moment as I try to turn the black line into a somewhat aesthetic floral tendril.
Then he pushes my hair out of my face and behind my ear with one hand.
"I could get used to this," he says quietly.
I turn my head to him. "Riding the bus?"
He smiles at me. »That too. But what I really meant was waking up with you in the morning.”
I feel my cheeks getting warm. He makes it sound like we're sleeping in the same bed, but we have been since that night
no longer done in Ophelia's guest room.
»Although everyone in your house is completely crazy. Helen was awake at four o'clock today, and I really don't think it's normal how energetic Ember is at six in the morning."
»Mum has had a new boss for a few weeks, I think she wants to be extra sure that she is not late. And Ember ...« I say
and shake your head. »I don't know how she does it. She doesn’t even drink coffee.”
"Crazy."
What's also crazy is how normal it feels to talk to James about my family.
"I'm glad you're here with us," I say after a while.
James looks at me from the side, his gaze warm. Then he puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.
The drive to school goes by far too quickly and slowly at the same time. Just before the final stop, I stand up and move from pole to pole while I can hear James stumbling behind me. It takes a lot
of willpower to suppress my grin.
When I get to the bus stop, I notice how excited I am and how fast my heart is beating. It almost feels like my first day at school. But when I get off and see who is waiting for me, I stop in
my tracks.
“Surprise!” Lin shouts, spreading his arms.
My friend is not alone.
The entire event committee came to the bus stop with her and beamed at me. Even Camille, even if she keeps her arms crossed over her chest.
Before I even fully realize what's happening, Lin is there and hugs me tightly.
"I'm so glad you're back," she says, her voice trembling. When she pulls away from me, it almost looks like she's in tears
eyes. "I don't know how I would have survived the rest of the school year without you."
"And I don't know how we would have survived the rest of the school year with only Lin as our boss," Jessalyn interjects, hugging me as well. "She enslaved us , Ruby. The week felt like an entire
term."
"She just wanted everything to be perfect for Ruby's return," says Kieran, who also gives me a quick hug. He smiles at me shyly.
"It's good to have you back, Ruby. We've all missed you."
“What he said,” Doug adds.

"It was strange without you," Camille says. She pushes her hair behind her ear and then exhales theatrically. "It's good that you're back." Finally, she comes to me and hugs me.
After she has let go of me, I am completely overwhelmed. My whole team is here to greet me. It seems as if I have
they were seriously missing. A lump forms in my throat that refuses to go away even after swallowing several times.
When I started school, I never thought I would find myself in a situation like this at Maxton Hall. I thought it would be better to stay below the radar of my classmates so as not to make myself
vulnerable. All I had in mind was my goal of getting a degree and nothing else. Now I realize how wrong that was. And that I may have missed a whole lot of beautiful moments.
"Shall we go?" asks Camille, pointing towards the main entrance. "The Assembly is about to start."
I nod. As we make our way to Boyd Hall with our small group, I link arms with Lin. She leans her head
to the side and to my shoulder. "It's about time."
“I think so too,” I say. "You have to tell me everything."
As I enter the school between her and James, I feel people's eyes on me. Heads turn to look at me, and
muffled murmurs reach my ears.
I couldn't be more indifferent.
“Lasagna has never tasted so good,” I announce, shoveling another forkful into my mouth.
"The lasagna tastes just as bad as usual. You're just looking at everything through rose-tinted glasses because you were on vacation for a week," Lin replies, looking at the portion on her own plate
with a skeptical wrinkling of her nose.
»Your standards are simply too high.«
"And yours is very, very low, if you really like that. I mean, what is that? Spinach? Overcooked broccoli? You can't tell."
I chew and sigh blissfully. Meanwhile, Lin just looks at me and shakes his head.
"I really missed you, Ruby."
"I miss you too. I've missed everything here. Even the smelly locker room after gym class."
Lin wrinkles her nose again. "You're putting me on the same level as a locker room after gym class. I should be insulted, but
I'm just too happy today.«
All I can do is grin.
After eating we take our trays away. Before I head out the door, I look around for James, who is sitting at his usual table by the windows with Kesh, Alistair and Wren. The four of them look serious
and are talking, leaning over the table, their heads together. I wonder if James is telling them what happened over the weekend. That he is no longer with his
Father is alive and has nothing to do with Beaufort anymore . And that Cyril sent him the original pictures on Saturday.
When I think about everything that has changed for this clique since September, I feel really wistful. James told me what their original plan was for this year: fun, partying, everything,
without worrying or worrying about the future.
Instead, the exact opposite happened for all of them.
My gaze lingers on Cyril's seat, which has remained empty throughout the entire lunch break. Although I will never forgive him for what he did, the image seems completely wrong to me.
"Have you talked to Cyril again?" I ask Lin as we finally walk out the door.
Suddenly her face looks tense. She tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear. "No. And after what he did to you, I don’t plan on ever speaking to him again.”
A sinking feeling spreads in my stomach. Cyril has done something unforgivable, but something like compassion still emerges
up in me. It can't be easy to get your heart broken and then lose all your friends.
“Why do you ask?” Lin wants to know.
"Oh, just like that," I reply, trying to ignore the strange feeling in my stomach.
“Did you actually come along well today?” Lin asks after we’ve walked side by side in silence for a while.
"Yes, thanks to your and James' notes." I smile at her gratefully. "Really, they saved my life."
"No problem."
“I want to return the favor somehow,” I say. “Also for all the work you did with the event committee.”
Lin waves away. Then she grins at me from the side. “If I ever got suspended because I was accused of having an affair with someone
“If the teacher says anything, you can stand in for me.”
I hit her, but she dodges, laughing.
“By the way,” she says as we enter the library together. »Like you totally exaggerated in history earlier. The new guy was totally overwhelmed because you got in touch so often.”
By “the new one,” Lin means our new history teacher. He has come out of retirement especially for the last term as a replacement for Mr Sutton
It was interesting but also strange to have lessons with someone who is not Mr Sutton.
"Is there anything else I need to know for the meeting?"
»Oh!« exclaims Lin. She pauses between two shelves and looks at me with wide eyes. »I think Camille and Doug are
together," she whispers to me.
»Was?«
“I have no idea when this happened, and apparently it's not official, but I saw her last week
hugged each other for quite some time in one of the back parking lots. They looked super familiar with each other, holding hands
held and so on."
“Camille and Doug,” I murmur. "Who would have thought?"
"It was really sweet," Lin muses, using her chip card to unlock the door to the group room. "Have you got your key back yet?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. I actually had to go to Lexington this morning, but I just can't handle it
Brought me.”
“Should I come with you?” Lin asks after a moment’s hesitation as we go forward and put our things down.
"Would you really do that?"
"Sure. I would also be afraid to face him again after something like that."
"I'd rather never see him again, to be honest." I remember the disappointment I felt when he kicked me out of that school without any emotion in his eyes and without listening to my side of the
story.
“The main thing is that you’re here again,” says Lin. “If you want, I’ll be happy to go with you.”
I suppress the anger that is building up inside me at the thought of last week and smile gratefully at Lin. "You're the best, thank you."
One by one, the others wander into the room, all except James, who has to attend an emergency meeting of the lacrosse team called by Coach Freeman. James told me not to worry, but the
thought still makes me feel uneasy.
“Let’s get started?” Lin asks, looking around. »I had a conversation with Lexington last week. He gave us a whole series of guidelines that we have to adhere to this time at the Bonfire. A lot of things
really went wrong last year.”
"Yes," says Camille, wrinkling her nose. "There were far too many drunks."
"I heard Lexington stepped in a pile of puke," Doug adds. "That's probably why he delayed approving it."
“This year we would actually prefer that no one pukes at all,” I say. “We therefore have to assign twice as many teachers as usual so that they can keep an eye on people.”
A hum of approval goes through the room.
»Ruby and I were thinking earlier that we could ask the dance group if they might want to do a performance. Maybe this will get people on the dance floor quicker. What do you all mean?"
"Only if they agree in advance exactly which choreography they are going to dance. They do really weird things sometimes," Jessalyn points out. She takes the pencil that is stuck behind her
ear and turns it over in her hands. "Remember the spring performance? They tried to dance like Maddie Ziegler, but it didn't work at all. Especially not with so many people."
"Who is Maddie Ziegler?" asks Doug.
“The dancer in Sia’s videos,” Jessalyn replies.
"Jessa is right," Lin says thoughtfully. "I was really scared during the performance. We should definitely clarify beforehand what we want from the performance."
“I’m happy to do that,” says Jessalyn, and a murmur of approval goes around.
"Great thank you. Kieran, have you taken care of the music system yet?” asks Lin.
"Yes," he replies. "Everything has already been sorted out with caretaker Jones."
“You’ve come a long way,” I say, smiling. I look at the list of to-dos on the table in front of Lin and me. »I can accept the wood delivery on Friday. Then I can also make sure that
everything is put in the right place straight away and not just dumped in front of the school like last year. Do you still know?"
"Oh God, yes," groans Camille. "And then we had to carry the wood ourselves. I caught a splinter that time."
"I have about ten of them too," says Lin.
“Who actually has the appointment at the fire department?” Jessalyn suddenly asks, sitting up a little.
“Of course, Ruby and I,” Lin replies, eyebrows wiggling.
“Unfair!” Jessalyn shouts, but looks like she’s about to laugh at any moment.
"That's the advantage of being in charge of the team," says Kieran. "You can pick and choose the tasks that are the coolest. Although I don't really understand why you're all so keen to listen
to a conversation about emergency procedures."
»Haven't you ever watched Chicago Fire ? “Spicy is the key word, Kieran,” says Jessalyn.
A laugh goes through the group.
At this moment I'm so happy to be here again that I feel like I'm dreaming.
When James and I get back home, there isn't a single jacket hanging on the coat rack.
"Ember?" I call through the house.
No Answer.
"I think we're alone," I say to James, frowning, as we take off our shoes and head into the kitchen.
“You almost seem like you hate being alone with me. I don’t know if I should be worried about that.”
I give him a small smile and go to the sink to wash my hands. "That's not it. I'm just worried about Ember. She's been away so much lately and is keeping a huge secret about where she
goes. We actually always tell each other everything.«
James steps next to me and holds his hands under the hot stream of water. A thoughtful wrinkle has formed between his brows. "She seems pretty happy to me."
I pause and search for the right words to express my thoughts and feelings. »I can't really describe it, but my gut feeling is that something is going on with her. And as a rule, I can always rely on my
gut feeling.«
“Have you ever tried talking to her?”
I shrug my shoulders uncertainly. 'We've had a lot of arguments over Maxton Hall over the last few months and I noticed that she felt like I was patronizing her. I don't want that at all. I want
us to be friends who can tell each other anything. Especially considering I’m moving away soon.”
"Just try it. Maybe she's waiting for you to approach her."
"Mhm," I say. I open the fridge and take an uncertain look inside. "You're probably right."
James touches my shoulder and squeezes briefly.
"We still have some risotto left. Is that okay with you?" I ask him and feel him nod as he comes even closer. His hair tickles my cheek. He is standing so close to me
that I can feel his chest against my back.
»That's something I can actually do,« says James, taking the bowl from my hand. As if it were a matter of course, he goes to
one of the cupboards and takes out a pan. He then pulls open a drawer, rummages around in it briefly and then brings out a spatula. He then pours the leftover risotto
from the bowl into the pan and puts it on the stove.
I watch him for a while as he stirs the risotto every now and then with the spatula and I can see the smile that develops
while stealing on my face, don't resist. I think it's cute how comfortable he feels in our kitchen.
As I turn to the cupboards to get plates out for both of us, James is standing in front of me in a flash, spatula in hand. He points it at me like a weapon. "I will do that."
Disarmed, I raise my hands and make room for him to get the dishes. Then I lean back against the worktop and watch him place the plates next to the stove and, after a
few minutes, fill up the food.
Armed with our plates and cutlery, we make our way upstairs to my room. I put the laptop on the bedside table
and turn it so that James and I can both see the screen clearly. We decided on the bus ride here to continue watching The Alienist , so I pull up the episode we left off the
night before and press play. Then I sit on the floor so I can lean against the bed next to James.
James hands me my plate and I start eating my risotto.
“Your first day of school was a complete success, wasn’t it?” James asks as the spooky intro theme tune begins.
"I am so happy. You can't even imagine it," I say with my mouth full.
"You could see how happy you were. All day long. Your smile lit up the whole school."
I turn my head to him and give him a sideways grin. »The whole school lit up? You're such a charmer."
James just smiles at the rim of his water glass, his eyes glued to the laptop. We eat while watching Daniel Brühl, Dakota Fanning, and Luke Evans hunt a bloodthirsty
murderer in Victorian New York, and I can't believe how normal and how right it feels to be sitting here with James.
After eating, I lean my head against his shoulder and snuggle up to him. He puts a hand on my thigh and
caresses him leisurely. It's good to be so close to him. For the first time in a long time, I can really relax - and James seems to feel the same way. When the episode
ends, I want to close my eyes and fall asleep next to him.
But I still have a whole bunch of to-dos waiting for me in my Bullet Journal after today’s school day, and even though
Because it has never been so difficult for me to get up to do my homework, I finally get up. James stretches himself with a
Sigh, and as I take my notes out of my backpack and spread them out one by one on my desk, I can hear him
hear laughing. I glance at him and he grins at me.
“Lin and I can’t keep up with your color system,” he says, nodding to the many worksheets I worked on during school hours with highlighters and post-its.
»No, you did a great job.« I also fish my pencil case and my bullet journal out of my backpack and then try to
to get an overview of everything and decide what is best to start with.
“Shall I give you a little time?” James asks after a moment. “I can sit down in the living room.”
"No, just stay there. I like having you with me."
»Do you mind if I use your laptop?«
“Don’t force yourself,” I reply.
"Thanks," James says, pulling the laptop onto his lap. He stays sitting in front of my bed with his ankles crossed while I turn my attention to my homework.
I don't know how much time has passed, but by the time I put the last check mark in my bullet journal, it's already dark outside and my head feels like it can't take in a single
new piece of information without exploding - a feeling I love.
At one point I even forgot that James was in the room with me, but then the quiet clicking of the keyboard behind me reminded me and I had to smile.
Now I turn around and watch James staring intently at the screen.
“I’m done,” I announce.
James jumps as if he had just been snapped out of a deep thought. "Oh nice?"
I look at the alarm clock on my nightstand. “It took me over an hour and a half.”
James looks at his watch in disbelief. "I completely lost track of time."
I stand up and sit down next to him again. I look at the laptop, but before I can get a glimpse of the pages he has open, James minimizes the browser.
I nudge his leg with mine. "I just wanted to see what was so captivating that it made you lose track of time."
“Oh, just stuff.”
»It looked like interesting stuff«, I say.
James looks at me thoughtfully. After a brief hesitation, he opens the browser again. I lean forward to see better.
which pages he has visited.
They are blog posts, all revolving around the topic of “travel.”
»Wow,« I murmur and click through a Bali bucket list, tips for cheap travel, the most beautiful beaches in Lombok, seven
special Airbnb accommodations, travelling with hand luggage, the best snacks for travelling and some instructions on Wordpress. »These are
quite a lot of contributions.«
»I also follow a lot of people.«
I look up. James looks like he's been caught doing something. “Why do you look like I discovered something naughty in your browser?”
He raises one shoulder indecisively. "I do not know either. It was never something that I could pursue very much. I just have that
to switch off.”
»Just like I do my ASMR videos.«
"Exactly," he says, smiling slightly. "I liked that I could at least escape to another world this way - if I couldn't travel in real life." He hesitates. "But now..."
I wait, but he doesn't continue.
“Now?” I ask cautiously.
It takes him a moment to sort out his thoughts. Then he clears his throat. “Now I have the feeling that maybe it could become... more than that.” He grimaces. »I know, it's totally absurd. What
person would turn down an acceptance to Oxford in order to travel and write about it online?”
At that moment, something clicks. James doesn't just want to travel - he wants to blog about his journey. A warm feeling spreads in my chest.
I remember the list I made with James in Oxford. Back then, he doubted that his wanderlust was actually something that could be called a dream. But he hadn't yet separated from his father.
Now he could take that step - no one stands in the way of his goals anymore.
"Of course you can, James," I say gently, placing a hand on his arm.
"It was always the plan, you know? To go to Oxford. Independent of Beaufort and my parents."
I nod.
»Now I think about it all the time that there is nothing that attracts me to this university. Academically, I mean. Of course I want to be as close to you as possible and be able to see my
friends. But then I think about how much you wanted this place and how hard you fought for it. Wouldn’t it be unfair if I stole this place from someone who wanted it much more than I did?”
“If Oxford isn’t what you want to do with your life…” I say slowly, “…then don’t take the place.”
James looks down, but I can see in his dark eyes that this isn't the first time he's thought about it. He seems completely torn inside.
»Everyone deserves a world of opportunity, remember? And if this is something you really want to do, then you should do it.”
He looks up again and the frown between his brows smoothes out a little. "You think so?"
I nod resolutely.
»You could ask Ember how she started her blog. She's really knowledgeable and can probably tell you a little something." I look at the clock and frown. “To do that, she would have to finally
come home.”
“So,” James says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “As far as I’m concerned, Ember can take her time.”
"How come?"
"Because I would like to show my girlfriend how grateful I am that she believes in me and my dreams."
Without looking away from me, James grabs the laptop and closes it. He then leans forward and presses his mouth to my forehead. He runs his lips across my temple, further down to my
cheek and begins to place more kisses on my face. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the mattress as James continues to show me his gratitude.
15
Human
I wait until Wren takes a spoonful of ice cream.
He pops it into his mouth and has an ecstatic look on his face, but even that makes me hesitate.
I find it difficult to eat in front of others, especially in public. Especially when it comes to unhealthy things like ice cream, I often feel like I'm being looked at from the side. People judge me – even if
they have no idea what I am like
otherwise feed.
I slowly push the spoon into my chocolate ice cream and look at it uncertainly. Then I take a deep breath: I am here with Wren, in
whose presence makes me feel good. We are friends. And what's more, I took a much smaller portion than he did, so I
can't really attract any negative attention.
I push the thoughts out of my head with all my might and shove the spoon into my mouth.
“I wasn't exaggerating, was I?” Wren asks, looking at me expectantly.
“You were right, the ice cream tastes heavenly.” I put the spoon down for a moment. "I didn't even notice that a new ice cream parlor had opened here."
I look around the terrace of the small shop. Every single chair is occupied and the counter is crowded with people who want to have their ice cream to go. Wren said that there are discounts for
students here, so I'm not surprised by the crowd.
Apart from that, the weather is fantastic today.
Apart from my fear, I was really happy about Wren’s invitation. While we usually had an excuse to meet
meeting - filling out scholarship applications, Wren's move - this time he just asked me if I wanted to spend time with him.
The fact that he gave me the scoop of ice cream as compensation for my help with the renovation is an extra bonus.
"I think I'll move in here," Wren says, spoon still half in his mouth.
»Moving again? “After such a short time?” I tease him. My tension slowly eases a bit. It gets better the more we talk to each other and the more I tune out the other people around us.
There's that mischievous half-smile again. »I could have ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. In addition, the counter looks
very nice. I'm sure you could use the cushions from the chairs outside to make a great cave behind it."
»I used to build caves with my sister. That was our favorite weekend activity." I take another spoonful of ice cream and try to just enjoy this moment.
Wren stirs his cup, mixing the two scoops of ice cream together to form a mushy beige pile.
"Oh yeah, the boys and I did that too."
"I'm a little jealous of your friendship," I admit.
Wren looks at me questioningly.
"You've been friends with them for so long," I explain. “Sure, I have girlfriends too, and Ruby and I are very close, but
There isn't actually anyone I've known since I was a child and who I hang out with all the time. This has always happened
Somehow we grew apart, people moved away, or our interests became so far apart that we couldn't do anything with each other anymore. That's not the case with you. Whenever you talk
about your boys, it seems like you've grown together instead of growing apart."
Wren pauses with his spoon in his sundae. "That's how it's always been."
There's something in his tone that makes me sit up and take notice. "Really?"
He shrugs one shoulder and finally puts a portion of ice cream in his mouth. There was quite a lot on the spoon and it doesn't take long
two seconds until his face twists in pain. I suppress a grin with all my might.
“Brain freeze?” I ask.
He groans in response and sets the spoon aside. “That’s what I get from trying to avoid the answer to your question.”
"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," I say, shrugging my shoulders.
»It's not like that at all. I just notice that a lot of things are changing in our circle of friends and that's kind of getting to me.
I've actually had enough changes now.«
»How is your relationship changing?«
Wren fiddles with the napkin that lies on the table next to his mug. »We used to meet at my place a lot, but until now I haven't had the courage to invite the boys to our new house. I don't want
them to see me in a different light, so I
I somehow automatically shut myself off from them. I tell them less, and... Actually, it's stupid."
I hum thoughtfully. Wren looks at me. He tilts his head and smiles.
"I can see that you have an opinion on this, Supergirl. Always speak up," he says, indicating with his hand that
I should share my thoughts with him.
»I just think it's total nonsense, to be honest. You've been friends for so long - what difference does it make where you live?"
Wren presses his lips together and looks at his ice cream, which now looks more like a milkshake.
He thinks about my words for a while. "You're right."
"I know."
He lets out a laugh. Then suddenly he reaches across the table for my hand. He holds her tightly and looks deep into my eyes. I feel my heartbeat quickening and I automatically respond to the
light pressure of his hand. I don't know what Wren is doing to me.
One second he is serious and reserved, the next second he makes me completely lose it with a simple gesture like this.
mixed up.
The moment stretches out, lasting too long and yet far too short. When Wren lets go of my hand and reaches for his spoon, I can't help the disappointment that spreads through me.
Wren clears her throat and continues as if nothing had happened. "I was planning on inviting her over soon anyway. I'm sure everything will go back to normal then."
My thoughts are still on our brief contact. I can still feel the warmth of his hand. And then I say something that I can barely explain to myself.
»Maybe we can all do something together soon.«
Wren blinks in surprise, which I don't blame him for. So far we have consistently kept our friendship secret from the others. I think we both found it liberating not to have to worry about how
James or Ruby would feel about it, especially since we ourselves had no idea how our friendship would turn out. But now I know that I don't want to lose Wren as a friend anymore. I feel safe
around him and I don't want to hide that anymore.
Apparently he feels the same way.
“Gladly,” he says after a while and smiles.
I do everything I can to ignore the intense butterflies in my stomach.
Ruby
Since I went back to school, time seems to fly by. James and I take turns driving the bus and his car, and we've now been joined by Wren, who either gets on two stops after us or
waits for us on the main road and then jumps into James' car.
James and I spend every free moment studying for final exams, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate when he's with me. More and more often I find myself staring at him instead of
the book - and sometimes my whole body tingles so badly that I'm sure he can feel it next to me.
When the day of the bonfire finally arrives, it's as if my suspension never happened. Yes, some of my classmates still talk about it or stare at me a little too long in the cafeteria, but I focus on the
positive: I'm back in Maxton Hall and I'm going to graduate.
“Are you sure this is right?” Lin whispers in my ear as we stand in front of the huge pile and watch the firefighters throw logs on top of it one by one.
"I think it looked the same last year," I reply just as quietly.
It is now after seven in the evening and the first people are arriving. They walk through the schoolyard, where we have set up a drinks stand and small food stalls where you can get stick bread,
marshmallows on small sticks and French fries.
"Yes?" Lin still looks skeptical. "It's kind of... misshapen."
I tilt my head and look at the structure that will burn brightly in less than an hour. "I don't know. Now that you mention it, I'm not sure."
"Believe me, it doesn't matter what the pile of wood looks like," James interjects. "Afterwards, everyone will be too drunk to care."
Lin and I look at him with narrowed eyes. "There's no alcohol," I say. "And no one will be drunk."
He just lifts one shoulder. “You both know how things work here every year.”
I give him a light slap on the upper arm. "We've taken every precaution and are better prepared than last year. Stop driving us crazy."
He smiles. "I just want you not to be disappointed if things don't go as perfectly as you hoped."
“How chivalrous of you,” I say dryly.
»Yeah, wow. You're probably just saying that because you're the one who's been making everyone drunk for the past few years. Don't think I've never heard of your legendary trunk." Lin raises an
eyebrow.
"Your legendary trunk?" I ask, looking back and forth between the two of them. "What about your trunk?"
“Nothing, nothing,” James says quickly.
“He and his friends handed out alcohol to people,” explains Lin. “Out of James’ trunk.”
I twist my mouth in disgust. "I know exactly why I hated you so much."
James smiles and puts a hand around my neck. He runs his thumb over the sensitive skin there, all the way to my hairline. Then he leans close to me.
"You don't hate me anymore, do you?" he whispers.
His dark voice and gentle touch bring goosebumps to my arms. It takes all my strength not to let on how weak my knees feel right now.
“Ms Bell?” a voice comes from behind us, causing my entire back to suddenly go stiff. James' fingers twitch at my neck, as if he had wanted to pull them back but changed his mind at the last
moment.
Together we turn to Principal Lexington. When I see his serious look, my heart automatically starts racing. James' hand slips from my neck to my shoulder and he pulls me a little closer to him.
I swallow dryly. "Yes?"
Lexington clears his throat. “Would you have a moment for me?”
“Now?” I ask, looking uncertainly over my shoulder at the bonfire. "The fire will be lit every minute."
"It only takes a minute," he says.
I hesitate, but at the same time I know I have no choice. If the principal of my school wants to talk to me, I can't refuse. I have successfully avoided this for the last two weeks and only
communicated with him via his secretary and a brief email. I don't mean to be childish, but the situation in his office still bothers me. I just can't forget how he treated me back then.
James doesn't let go of my shoulder. I give him a small smile and reach for his hand to give it a quick squeeze. Then I take a step forward.
The principal points to a spot a little further to the right. I nod and together we move away from the others.
I don't have to turn around to know that James's eyes are on me the entire time.
Lexington strokes the collar of his gray suit and looks at me intently through the lenses of his glasses. "You and Ms. Wang did a really good job preparing for this evening, Ms. Bell," he says finally.
“Thank you, sir,” I reply stiffly.
He clears his throat. »And I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you personally how much I regret the recent incident.
sorry.”
I try not to let on how surprised I am by his apology. I wasn't expecting it and for a moment I don't know how to react.
Lexington clears his throat again. It's a small explosive sound that escapes from his throat. If I didn't know better, I would think he was nervous. »I hope you understand that the weight of evidence
against you was initially overwhelming. My actions were in demand. I couldn’t have ignored that.”
"I know that," I say. "It's just..." I hesitate and give Lexington an uncertain look.
He nods encouragingly. "Feel free to speak openly with me, Ms. Bell."
I take a deep breath. "I don't think you would have treated many other students at this school the way you treated me that Monday."
Lexington frowns. "I'm afraid I don't follow you."
"I'm just wondering if you would have acted the same way if my parents were regularly transferring large sums of money into the Maxton Hall account."
I can't believe I actually just said that. I feel my heart beating fast and hard against my ribcage
punches as Lexington's eyes widen in outrage.
"Ms. Bell," he says. “I have to ask very much…”
I shake my head. “I'm sorry, Mr. Lexington, but that's how I felt. They didn't even give me the opportunity
to defend. After everything I have done for this school over the last few years, I don't think I deserve this."
Lexington stares at me. He opens his mouth – and closes it again.
I wonder if I just made a huge mistake, but at the same time I don't care. I stood up for myself and addressed an injustice that has been an issue at Maxton Hall for years. I don't know if I'm changing
anything, but that's not my point.
“Thank you for your honesty,” Principal Lexington finally says. “I'm sorry about how this all happened. And I hope you know that in the future I will work to ensure that something like this doesn't
happen again." His tone is still friendly, but now changed
more formal. As if he was choosing every word carefully. »If you have any more problems, of whatever kind,
My office door is always open to you.”
I nod, even though I know better now. I watch Lexington as he walks back to the bonfire and realize that I am no longer angry with him. In fact, I am grateful to him at this moment because he has
taught me a valuable lesson. If I ever
If I am in a high position and have to decide the fate of another person, I will not behave like him.
Because now I know that every story has at least two sides and each of them deserves to be heard.
James
My task this evening is to sell stick bread to classmates – and to survey the crowd as inconspicuously as possible
and to look out for Ruby. Every now and then I see her brown hair glowing in the light of the fire, or her with hers
I sprint across the square with a clipboard under my arm, but as quickly as she appears in my field of vision, she usually disappears again. So I concentrate on my classmates who keep coming to
the stand and pushing a few pounds across the counter to me.
What I would never have done before and would most likely have found completely stupid, now gives me immense peace of mind.
Since the beginning of the year - more specifically, since Mum's death - I've been grateful for any distraction I can find so that I don't have to worry about all the things that are going wrong in my life.
When I'm on the event team, I don't have to think about the fact that I'm basically homeless and on my girlfriend's parents' pockets.
When I'm training hard, I don't have to worry about the fact that I'm trampling on my mum's legacy
I stepped on it.
And if I learn like a madman, I don’t have to look for the answer to the question of what the hell I am doing with a
I want to finish school when I actually have no idea what I want to do with my life.
I try not to let on in front of Ruby, but it's getting harder every day. Because the more I ponder, the clearer it becomes to me that there are no answers to my questions - and the more overwhelming
my worries become.
“You’ve got flour on your pants, man.”
I flinch and look up. Wren is standing in front of me, grinning and pointing at my legs.
"Is it nine already?" I ask, surprised, looking at the clock. Wren and I agreed that he would pick me up after my shift and we would continue our old tradition and spend the bonfire together.
Wren nods and I half-heartedly pat my jeans. After I hand the cash register to Kieran and dry my hands on a towel
After wiping it off, I step out from behind the stand.
I've seen Wren during the last few weeks on the way to school, in class and at training, but still
it seems to me as if our last real conversation was an eternity ago.
“How are you?” I finally ask. Partly because I can't think of anything else, and partly because I really want to know the answer to this question.
“I was just about to ask you that too.”
"It's a good thing I asked first."
Wren grins, and together we stroll away from the bonfire to the edge of the grounds, where the smokers are standing and a few people are drinking beer
drink.
"I'm fine," Wren says after a while.

The music coming from the speakers gets quieter the further we get from the fire.
"How ... is it like that?" I ask cautiously. Wren has hardly shared his new life with us so far. He doesn't tell us anything about the house,
where he moved, nothing about how his parents dealt with the new beginning. I know from Alistair that he is just as rare
was like me at training, but when I ask him how he's doing, he changes the subject every time.
Wren is clearly ashamed, and it's killing me that he thinks he can't talk to me about it - after all, we're in the same damn boat.
I'm fully expecting him to avoid my question again, but he surprises me. "Different," he says. "But it's okay. We finally have internet."
He takes a hip flask out of the inside pocket of his jacket and takes a big swig. Then he holds out the small silver bottle to me. I hesitate for just a moment before taking it and drinking from it
too. This moment between us almost feels like
earlier.
"I'm getting used to Gormsey," he continues. "But I find it really creepy that the neighbors are always saying hello to you."
"It's the same on Ruby's Street," I say, handing him back the flask. "They even know my name now."
Wren grins. "It's kind of nice."
We walk side by side in silence for a while.
"By the way, I've found a potential buyer for my Beaufort shares," I finally tell her as we stop a good distance from the bonfire. "My financial advisor is still doing all sorts of background checks,
but it's looking pretty good."
“That would be a big step, man,” Wren says slowly. "I'm happy for you."
»Nothing is certain yet. And I would like to meet with her again beforehand. But yes, if everything goes well, we’ll be done by the end of the school year.”
"Wow. I keep my fingers crossed for you."
“Thank you.” I give him a wry smile. »Then I can finally give the Bells their couch back. No matter how many times I suggest it, she
won't let me move into the hotel.«
The corners of Wren's mouth twitch. “I take your word for it.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise, but Wren continues before I can ask him what he means. »I was thinking about it, soon
"To throw a housewarming party." He turns the hip flask back and forth in his hand and runs his fingers over the engraving on the edge.
“I would like to show you my new home.”
"Cool," I say immediately. "When?"
»Next weekend maybe? I…” Wren cuts himself off and has to clear his throat. »Would you go shopping with me? Alcohol and stuff?”
"Clear."
He nods and puts the flask back on. I can see the relief in his eyes, but I can't make sense of it
make.
“I wasn’t sure if you guys would be up for it,” he says after a moment.
“Of course we do,” I say, perplexed.
He just shrugs his shoulders.
"Look, I know I've been anything but a good friend over the last few months. But of course I want to know how you live now and what's changed. I just thought you didn't want to talk about it,
so I didn't want to push you. If it came across as if I wasn't interested, then I'm sorry."
Wren shakes his head. "It's not that," he says.
“Then what?” I ask cautiously.
»Normally… oh, I don’t know. We’re actually going through exactly the same thing, but it still seems like an impossible task
plan to talk to you about all this shit.«
“Is that why you brought the hip flask with you?” I ask, trying to grin. Wren replies timidly and raises a toast to me.
»There is so much going on at the moment. I have applied for scholarships and set up the room, and now I am looking for jobs.
Unfortunately, none of them want anyone who is going to move away to study soon."
"That sucks. I can keep my eyes open if you want.”
Wren just shrugs her shoulder. Still, I make a mental note to start checking the classifieds as soon as Mr. Bell puts the paper down in the morning.
"Thanks."
“Did anything else happen?” I ask. “You seem… different.”
Wren snorts a laugh. "You could call it that, yes."
We walk a few more steps across the lawn, then he suddenly stops. He tilts his head back and looks up at the sky, which has now turned a deep purple. The music is so quiet here that it's hard to
make out which song is playing. That's the only way I understand Wren's next words: "I think I'm falling in love."
I continue to look at him sideways in surprise, but Wren's face is so dark that I don't dare ask for details.
“You look like the world is about to end because of this.”
He exhales audibly and folds his arms behind his head. »I don't know what to do with this. Why now of all times? That doesn’t suit me at all.”
That makes me laugh. Wren looks at me angrily.
»Sorry. I just think that love doesn't wait patiently for the right moment. It comes at you from behind, when
you least expect it.”
He snorts. "Then love is a sneaky bastard."

I grin. Wren keeps his mock angry expression on his face for about two seconds before he has to return the grin.
“I just think over and over again what was our plan for years. And then I look at us now and can only think about it
“laughing at how stupid and naive we were,” he finally says.
»The year can still be the best of our lives.«
He lowers his arms and snorts. "God, please no. The best year of my life cannot start off like this. I will not accept that."
"You're right. I just wanted to say something optimistic.”
"You spend too much time with Ember," he says. When he sees my look, he quickly adds, "And Ruby."
Wren kicks a stone out of the way. We both watch as he rolls a few meters away from us. "How was that for you? With Ruby, mine
I."
I have to think about that for a moment. "It just happened somehow. At first I wanted to fight back, but I quickly realized that it was pointless. I love Ruby. That's not going to change
any time soon."
Wren's eyes widen a little. "Really?"
I shrug my shoulders. »Yes.«
“That sounds so super serious. As if you were sure you wanted to spend your life with her.”
"Maybe I want that." The words come naturally, and while I was still struggling with myself six months ago, they no longer scare me at all. Quite the opposite.
"Shit, man." Wren shakes her head.
“Do you want to tell me something about her?” I ask.
He rubs the back of his head. "Better not."
"OK. But just so you know: I'm here to talk. And I think maybe we should do that more often.”
"Thanks, I think so too."
I watch a few students from the lower classes running around the fire and chasing each other with sticks. A few of
They simulate sword fights, and I see Lin handing out warnings – even though she herself had just hit me in the back with a stick
picked.
"Have you heard from Cy lately?" Wren asks suddenly.
I look at the sparks that rise from the fire into the sky and eventually burn out there. "No."
"I'm starting to worry. He hasn't been to school for two weeks. Nobody knows what's wrong with him."
I shouldn't care, but I can't help the worry that's growing inside me.
“Maybe I should invite him to the party too,” Wren continues. »Although he probably won't come anyway. At the moment he ignores all the messages I send him. I’m sure he’s
blaming himself for what happened with Ruby and Lydia.”
»He damn well should,« I blurt out, sharper than I intended. I sigh. »I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for that.
He could have destroyed Ruby's future with this action."
“But he realized his mistake and tried to make up for it, right?”
I don't answer him.
"An invitation can't hurt. Believe me, I know he screwed up. But we've all screwed up before. If we're not there for him now, that would be pretty self-righteous, don't you think?"
I grit my teeth tightly. Then I reach out and take the flask. I take a few sips, enjoying the burning sensation that runs down my throat.
“I hate it when you’re right,” I finally say.
Wren wraps an arm around my shoulder, grinning.
After I said goodbye to Wren, I went looking for Ruby again. I have a blanket in the car and a small speaker in the hope that we can stay on site for a while after the event is over and look at the
starry sky.
In the last two weeks we have rarely had the opportunity to be alone. Ruby's parents aren't strict, but just the possibility that they could be in the room at any moment ensures
that I keep a certain distance from Ruby. At least for the most part. I really don't mean any disrespect to the Bells. After all, it is thanks to them that I have a roof
have over my head.
I find Ruby at the bonfire. She is standing next to Principal Lexington, who is just wrapping up the event and thanking everyone who took part.
The glow of the fire bathes her in glowing light, making her look almost like an avenging angel.
Without taking my eyes off her, I take my cell phone out of my pocket, turn on the camera and press the shutter button. A pleasant shiver runs through me as I look at the
picture.
I'm about to plug the phone back in when a new message lights up. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I see her
is from my father. After I ignored his first email, he wrote me again a week ago and said he was disappointed in me, but would give me another chance to come to my senses.
I didn't answer again and
hoping he would finally leave me alone.
But when I open his message, I realize that I was mistaken. For my father, the matter is not closed.
For him, it's just beginning.
You didn't want it any other way.

16
James
I didn't tell Ruby about Dad's news.
I know it's wrong. We vowed to stop keeping secrets from each other and to talk to each other about everything
talk about what concerns us. But I can't bring myself to burden her with my problems again. She currently has
enough on my plate: the final exams are getting closer and closer, and the applications for the Oxford scholarships are entering the hot phase. I don’t want her to have to worry about me
now – especially since I don’t even know what the cryptic message from my father
means.
His goal was probably to intimidate me, but he achieved the exact opposite. I've never been so sure that I've made the right decision. And I've never been more motivated to finally take action
on something I've been thinking about for weeks.
On Saturday night, I wait until Ruby disappears into the bathroom to get ready for Wren's party, then I go to Ember's room. I
take a deep breath and finally knock on the door, which is ajar.
“Yes?” Ember calls from inside. She sits at her desk, laptop open in front of her and a cup of tea in her hand. As she me
discovered, she raises her eyebrows.
“Do you have a moment?” I ask.
Ember nods. "Sure, come in. What's Ruby doing?"
"She's getting ready and FaceTimeing with Lydia."
"Oh." As I stop next to her desk, she tilts her head. "What's up?"
I point to her laptop. »I have a few questions about your blog. Or blogging in general.«
Ember looks at me for a few seconds, then nods briefly. If I surprised her with this, she doesn't show any signs of it.
Instead, she pulls out a small wooden stool from under the desk. "Sure. Do you want to sit down?"
I take a seat next to her and briefly run my hand through my hair. Then I exhale audibly. »I've been dealing with Wordpress over the last few days and thought you could perhaps explain it all to me
in a more understandable way than all the guides online.«
"Oh, sure. I wish I had someone to show me all this back then," she says. She turns her laptop towards me so we can both see the screen clearly. Then she opens the browser and enters a URL
that pops up a small field with login information.
Bellbird opens it in another tab.
»So: Everything you find here on the homepage you can see and coordinate in the dashboard.« She switches to the first window. »...
The first thing I would recommend you do is familiarize yourself with it, because from here you will control the entire blog." She clicks a button and a black-gray box appears on the side.
"OK. How did you program the site? Did you have a web designer?”
»You need a provider to host your site. If you do this with Wordpress, there are many ready-made themes that you can buy
can. Here, I'll show you where I found my design.«
She opens a website where various themes are available for purchase.
»You always have to look a little beforehand at what you want to achieve with your site. This, for example, is a very nice design, but it wouldn't fit my content at all. «
I nod. »What did you place particular emphasis on in your design?”
"It definitely had to be responsive and work just as well on mobile devices as it did on a computer. Apart from that, the homepage was important to me, oh, and the sidebar. There are so
many providers now who have beautiful designs in their shops. I saved the best ones and went through them again and again over the course of weeks until I made a decision."
"I wonder how anyone is supposed to know all this."
»You learn that over time.«
»Did you set it up so professionally from the beginning?«
She shakes her head. »No, but I wish I had.« She scrolls further through her web designer’s page and stops
at some point. Then she looks at me sideways. “Why are you actually interested in this?”
I shrug. "I like blogs. They help me relax. I can learn or see new things that I would never otherwise have thought of."
“That’s how it started for me too,” says Ember and smiles meaningfully. »Until I eventually opened my own website.«
I am tempted to say what is going through my mind at this moment: I have no idea what I want to do with my life.
should start, and this is the only thing that has even remotely interested me for years.
Maybe I'll be able to say that someday. Unfortunately, that moment hasn't come yet.
Instead, I meet Ember's gaze. “How did you know you had something to tell?” I finally ask.
A slight smile spreads across Ember's lips. “Everyone has something to say, James.”
Ruby
Even on James' phone screen, I can see how much color Lydia's face has gotten. She wears her hair down and
and her eyes literally light up as she tells me about the past week. »We found it depressing to be inside all the time when the weather is so nice. So Ophelia moved her office to the
terrace.« She grins. »Although I
I'm pretty sure she just wanted an unobstructed view of the gardeners who were busy tidying up her garden."
I have to laugh and almost burn my forehead on the straightener I'm using to shape my bangs.
»James and I must come and visit you again soon. I also want to meet your private teacher. Is she still
superstreng?«
Lydia rolls her eyes. “Compared to her, Lexington is a pious lamb.”
I take a skeptical look at the front camera.

"Really. She's really meticulous and even pays attention to neat handwriting and stuff. If it's not perfect, it gets redone. On the one hand, I find that exhausting, but on the
other hand, I'm glad that she treats me as if I were normal."
“You ’re normal, Lydia.”
She clicks her tongue. "You know what I mean."
I grab the hairspray from the cupboard and spray it once over my entire head with my eyes closed.
"Even two hundred miles away, I feel like I'm coughing," Lydia says, and I laugh again. “You look very beautiful, by the way.”
"You're so sweet, thank you." I take a quick look at myself in the little picture on the screen. Yes, everything is fine. Hopefully it will stay that way tonight. "What are you
planning to do this weekend?" I ask.
"Nothing special. Graham is coming later and will stay until Monday morning. I'm pretty sure Ophelia will take the opportunity to talk him into a baby shower."
“Oh!” I exclaim. "That sounds good."
"Do you think so?" She frowns. "I don't know. Isn't that kind of weird?"
“Why?” I ask.
"Oh well. After everything that's happened, I'm just not sure a baby shower is really appropriate."
I can only shake my head at that. I walk close to the front camera and look at Lydia seriously. »Lydia, so far your pregnancy has not given you any reason to
be happy. This is actually supposed to be a happy time in your life. If you're ready to share this with others and celebrate yourself and your babies, then I think you should
definitely do that."
Lydia exhales audibly.
»You're happy, aren't you?«
“Yes, now,” she says immediately.
"Then I don't see what's stopping you from throwing a party for you and your babies."
A slight smile spreads across Lydia's face. "Would you come to a baby shower?"
»I would love to come. And I’m sure the others will too.”
»Ophelia is definitely on fire. I don't know where she finds the time, but she's knitted several hats and a blanket for the little ones in the last few days."
"That's so cute."
"Yes, but I have to say that its strengths definitely lie elsewhere. The blanket is more suitable as a potholder because it is so hard." She smiles. "But whatever. I'm still
happy."
»I'm really happy to see you so happy. It seems like your time with Ophelia is really good for you.”
“That's how it is. Actually, that was supposed to be some kind of punishment. Dad definitely didn’t expect us to get along so well.”
“It almost sounds like you could imagine staying with her longer.”
She nods. »I had considered it. It's good to be with someone who understands me like she does," says Lydia. »On the other hand, it's not fair to turn her life upside down
like that. She has enough to do right now.”
I go to my closet and open it with one hand. “And what about Mr. Sutton?”
Lydia just laughs. "You really need to stop calling him that."
I pick up my brogues and walk back to the desk. I carefully lean the cell phone against an old water glass. “He may have always been Graham to you, but not to me. I
find it strange to suddenly call him by his first name.'
“We’ll teach you,” Lydia says confidently. Then she bites her bottom lip before continuing hesitantly. “Graham… asked me if we wanted to move in together.”
I remain with a shoe in my hand and look at my cell phone. "And?"
Lydia nods, a smile spreading across her face. “I think I could imagine that,” she whispers.
At this moment there is such a difference to the Lydia I found crying in a toilet in Oxford that it warms my heart.
“I’m happy for you,” I say honestly.
"Please don't tell my brother yet," she adds quickly. "Otherwise he'll ask me a thousand questions that I can't answer right now anyway."
"I will be as silent as the grave."
“How is he doing?” she asks.
I slip on the shoes and tie the first lace while I think about the question. "Good, I think. But you know how he always keeps everything to himself at first, until it bursts out of
him with full force."
Lydia sighs quietly. "That sounds familiar. How is he coping with the whole thing with Dad?"
"Every time I talk to him about it, I get the feeling that he is uncomfortable with the topic. At the moment I'm trying to respect that. I trust that he will come to me if
he wants to talk."
She nods. Suddenly she seems thoughtful. "I could shake him sometimes when he doesn't want to talk."
I tie the second shoelace and think about her words. »He had a long conversation with Wren at the bonfire.
The main thing is that he talks to someone. It doesn’t necessarily have to be me.”
"I'm sure he just doesn't want to burden you after everything that happened."
“I have no idea.” I stand up from the chair, take a step backwards and then turn around. “What do you mean?”
"Very pretty! Did Ember sew the skirt?" asks Lydia, squinting her eyes a little.
“How did you know that?” I reply and look down at myself. The hem of the dark blue circle skirt is decorated with small flowers
embroidered, which can only be seen from close up.
"I don't know, I had a feeling." Her tone makes me sit up and take notice, skeptical.
“She definitely sent you a picture, you cheater.”
Lydia grins. "She regularly provides me with her latest things. Sometimes I can even show them to Ophelia and ask her for feedback."
“Would you like to say hello to Ember?” I ask, grabbing my bag.
»Oh yes, of course.«
With James' phone in front of my nose, I go to Ember's room and knock on the door. I can hear quiet voices, then Ember calls, “Come in!”
When I open the door, I stay where I am.
James sits next to Ember, right at her desk. In front of the two of them is Ember's laptop, on the screen of which I see the Bellbird logo
can recognize. The moment James sees me, he stands up.
"Um, there's someone here who wanted to say hello to you, Ember." I walk over to her and hold out the phone. She takes it from my hand and grins at Lydia.
“You sewed a nice skirt for Ruby,” she says in greeting.
"Did you recognize him from the photo?" asks Ember.
I hear Lydia make a sound of agreement. I turn to James and place a hand on his hip.
"What have you done?"
“Ember showed me her blog,” he says, but before I can ask, he glances at his watch. “Shall we go?”
“Where are you going?” asks Lydia.
"To Wren," says James. "He's having a housewarming party."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ember suddenly pale at James' words. Her mouth opens a little. "Oh. Cool.” She holds out the cell phone to James.
"Thank you," he says and then turns back to Lydia. "I'll call you again tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure. I can start from one, I have classes before that."
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he says, frowning.
»My private teacher is of the opinion that I should prepare as much material as possible in case the twins come early. “That’s not so unusual,” says Lydia.
I whistle briefly. "Now I understand what you mean by 'strict'."
»Well, whatever. I hope you have a great evening. Say hello to the boys for me!«
"I will," James says with a crooked smile and hangs up. Then he turns to Ember. "Thank you for taking the time to explain everything to me. That was a big help."
“No problem,” my sister murmurs. "Have fun tonight."
She's staring at her laptop, but it seems to me as if she's looking right through the screen.
17
Human
kingfitz: I want to see you again, supergirl
kingfitz: fancy a coffee?
kingfitz: thank you for being there today. I have no idea if I would have been able to do it without you
kingfitz: you are the best x
kingfitz: I wish we had built a cave in the ice cream parlor and just stayed there
Kingfitz: I'm in favor of us trying out all the ice cream parlors within a five mile radius and then coming up with a ranking
Aside from the fact that Wren's lack of capitalization drives me mad, my fingers shake with anger as I scroll through our message history. Suddenly, the words I've been so
attached to seem empty and meaningless.
I can't believe I made such a fool of myself.
I googled scholarships for hours. I helped him renovate his room so that he would feel comfortable in his new home. I listened to his concerns and talked to him for
hours about what it was like for us back then
Dad had his accident. That I felt just as desperate, even though I was still a little girl and had no idea how everything would change for us. I confided my fears to him
because I thought I had found someone with whom
I can talk about everything that I can't talk to my sister about.
And now?
Now he's having a housewarming party without inviting me or even telling me about it.
I thought we were friends. I thought he was also ready to take this whole thing between us to the next level.
But apparently I was wrong.
See you tomorrow?
That was his last message to me. He sent it to me this afternoon and I was stupid enough to reply with a sure answer. I have no idea how to act now. There is only one thing I know for sure:
I will not bottle up my anger.
I stare indecisively at the glowing buttons on my phone, searching for the right words.
Enjoy your party, traitor.
That sounds far too childish. I'll delete the draft immediately.
I look at the TV. Gordon Ramsey is yelling at another chef, and I can't help but think of the night Dad and I watched a best-of and laughed as Ramsey screamed in the
kitchen for fifteen straight minutes.
Maybe I should watch this video again now.
"Why are you making such a long face, Sparrow?" Mum asks suddenly.
I sigh. She really doesn't miss anything. Just like Wren calls me a superhero, I do the same to my mom when she sees something that no one else notices.
“Have you ever had friends who excluded you from one day to the next?” I ask.
My mother puts down the Kindle she was holding in front of her nose. She looks at me thoughtfully and pushes her hair behind her ear.
“I had a girlfriend like that when I was at school, yes.”
“How did you deal with it?” I ask.
»For the most part I overlooked it. But once I dared to say something. That was when they had a celebration at my place
“I threw my birthday and no one showed up for mine.”
"Oh God, Mum. That sounds awful."
“Are you talking about Samantha Baker?” Dad asks suddenly. “That bitch.”
"Angus!", says Mum.
"It's true. I thought it was great when you told her off."
Mum's cheeks turn a little red. "Thank you, honey."
"What did you do?" I ask.
"I told her how her actions made me feel. She always ignored me in front of our classmates, but as soon as we were alone, I was her best friend. I didn't think that was right. I gave her the
chance to change, but she didn't want that."
“And then?” I ask.
»I broke off my friendship with her and decided that I would never let anyone treat me so badly again. I have learned to always take my needs and feelings seriously. And I
can only give you this tip, Ember.”
I think about her words for a while. I told her how her actions made me feel.
No one has ever hurt me as much as Wren did today. Maybe I should tell him just that.
I hate that you're throwing a housewarming party without me. I thought we were friends.
As I type the words, I feel strangely exposed. That's how it always feels when I post a personal post on my
Blog and talk about the things that are important to me.
I hesitate, but only for a moment, then I follow my mum's example and send the message. Then I block
I take the phone and put it next to me on the couch with the screen facing down.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say quietly.
»Do you want to talk about it, Sparrow?«
I shake my head. Then I lean on Dad's shoulder and put Wren Fitzgerald out of my mind.
James
"Well," says Alistair, toasting Wren with the beer bottle. "I like it here."
Wren raises his eyebrows and looks around his room as if he were seeing it for the first time.
"Me too," I agree with Alistair, and I mean it. It may not be as big as Wren's old room, and the walls may not be covered in expensive wallpaper, but it is comfortable, and Wren has managed to give
it his own personal touch.
to lend. He hung a handful of framed pictures and put on the shelf the lacrosse trophies we've won over the last few years. Alistair, Kesh and I gave him a glass whiskey set when he moved
in, which now adorns his desk.
Some of the furniture is from Ikea, some is from Wren's old house, and an oriental rug lies spread out in the middle of the room.
"The house is really cute," Ruby says next to me. She's leaning against me, and I absentmindedly run my hand over her back as I watch Wren.
There's something wrong with him this evening. He hasn't put his phone down once and sometimes stares at the screen for minutes.
His mood is depressed, and I don't think it's just because he's uncomfortable with the fact that there's no room for chairs in his new room and we're all sitting on the floor. Something else seems
to be going through his mind, and I wonder if it's something to do with the
has to do with a mysterious girl that he didn't want to tell me more about at the bonfire a week ago.
“And your garden is really big,” Alistair adds. “If you miss the pool, we can buy an inflatable one in the summer.”
He crosses the room and steps over Kesh's legs without looking at him. Then he sits cross-legged between me and Wren. Kesh frowns and starts rolling the fringe of the carpet between his fingers.
I wonder if the two of them have been arguing again.
“We always did that when we were kids,” says Ruby, smiling.
"That's right," I say. “There are pictures of this hanging in your hallway.”
Ruby elbows me in the side. It hurts, but I still have to grin.
“Don’t tell me there are pictures of you with water wings,” Alistair says.
"Yeah, sort of," Ruby mumbles. Her cheeks are a little red, but she's grinning too as she takes a sip of her Coke.
I never thought I would see her so relaxed in the presence of my friends, and it makes me happy to be able to spend this evening here with her.
“Well, I could imagine your neighbors would be happy if you put on a little strip show every day in the summer, Wren,”
Alistair muses. “Maybe they’ll take pictures and hang them in the hallway.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
"On the way here, I met three women who wished me a lot of fun at the inauguration ceremony," adds Kesh.
"It seems you've already made a lasting impression in the area."
Wren groans. "Mum talks to them too much."
"That's what you do if you want to be a good neighbor," Ruby interjects.
“They all looked lovely,” Alistair agrees, but his dirty smile speaks volumes.
»How about doing the pool number and charming the neighbors?« suggests Wren. »It won't work for me
be."
"It's no wonder you walk around with that look on your face all the time." Kesh pushes away the chips that we were passing around at first, but that eventually ended up with him over the course
of the evening.
Wren gasps indignantly. "Hello? What is wrong with my expression?"
»It looks about as inviting as a bed of nails on fire.« Kesh draws his brows together and looks grimly into
around the circle. When Alistair arrives, his expression shifts a little and he quickly looks away. An awkward pause
of Alistair frowning at Kesh. He takes a deep breath and his brow smoothes out a little.
"Actually, you have to pull the corners of your mouth down a little," he says after a moment, also looking grim. "Something like this."
Kesh seems to be thrown off track for a moment. Then, when a grin spreads across his lips, it seems to come from
to come with all my heart.
He imitates Alistair's expression. “Hello, I'm Wren Fitzgerald and I'm not in the mood for company. Leave me alone, dear neighbors, so I can continue my existence as a grumpy
teenager, thank you very much."
Alistair, Ruby and I start snorting, and after a moment's hesitation Wren joins in. Kesh leans back contentedly on his elbow and smiles to himself.
“You guys are so shitty. Can someone tell me why I even invited you?” he asks after we’ve all calmed down a bit.
“Because you value your friends and don’t want to spend your evenings without them?” I ask.
"Or maybe because you need someone to inaugurate the sofa?" says Alistair.
"Or because you want someone to leave crumbs on the carpet?" Kesh, looking thoughtful, brushes some of the chip remains off the patterned carpet.
"The carpet is new, man."
Kesh then picks up the bowl of chips and holds it out to Wren, grinning.
“Guys,” Alistair interrupts Wren just as he is about to say something else.
We all look at him. He holds up his mobile phone, which shows a photo of a crowd. The flash makes the image
overexposed, and it is not possible to tell at first glance who is depicted in the photo.
“James McCormack is apparently throwing a party today.”
“And?” Wren asks disinterestedly. We all can't stand McCormack. Not because he's the captain of the Eastview lacrosse team,
but because he is an arrogant, mean guy who keeps provoking us at our games.
I lean forward and squint my eyes. And then I know what Alistair means. At the edge of the picture, someone can be seen who
supported by two other people and gives the impression that he is going to vomit his soul out every second. And this
Someone looks suspiciously like...
“Is that Cy?” Kesh asks, his brow furrowed.
"One hundred percent," Alistair replies with a nod, then looks questioningly at Wren.
“That looks really bad,” says Wren.
I hum in agreement. Cyril is deathly pale, his hair hangs wispy on his forehead. Someone holds a cell phone in his face to take a photo and he raises his hand defensively, but he doesn't seem
to be able to do it anymore.
»Didn't you want to invite him?«
Wren nods. "Yes, but he didn't answer again."
Suddenly there is something heavy in the air between us.
"What do you think?" Alistair suddenly asks the group. "How about we pay James McCormack a little visit?"
The ground beneath my feet vibrates. The music is so loud that the walls shake. I push through clusters of people, some
dancing, others try to talk over the noise. Someone jerks up his beer bottle and I get splashes of the
Content in my face. Annoyed, I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. One of the guys I know from lacrosse rams
elbow in your side as you pass. When I frown at him, he gives me a challenging look. But for that I have
I have no nerve.
I lean down to Ruby, who is walking next to me and hasn't said a word in a while.
“Are you okay?” I ask out loud.
She nods and gives me a forced smile. I can't blame her. Instead of sitting in Wren's cozy room, we had Alistair's chauffeur take us to Eastview, where the party of the century is obviously
taking place.
Damn James McCormack.
"If you'd rather go home..." I start again, to which Ruby just rolls her eyes.
"I'll stay with you." She squeezes my hand and then pulls me toward the stairs that lead up to the upper floor of the villa.
I ignore the looks of the people. Our reputation in Eastview is not the best. Not only have we beaten the lacrosse team time and time again in
the championship, Alistair is also notorious for having attacked McCormack twice - with ugly results.
As we go up the stairs I hear someone talking stupidly at him, and I glance over my shoulder to see Kesh shoving aside a guy who's gotten pretty close to Alistair.
"Don't let yourself be provoked," says Wren, who is walking in front of Ruby and me and looking around for Cyril.
The music echoes throughout the lobby, a thumping house beat that rattles the chandelier and makes my head buzz. I almost wish I could drink too, but that's out of the question. I
need to clear my head.
"Any idea where he might be?" Wren yells over her shoulder.
I shake my head. The house where the party is being held belongs to McCormack's parents, and I vaguely remember being here before. The winding banister and the ugly paintings of fruit
baskets and old vases look familiar.
I was so drunk back then that I have no idea where anything is in here.
We climb the last few steps and then walk through the hallway to a double door. Wren's shoulders stiffen and
When I take a look into the room, I know why.
Cyril is standing on a table on which I can still see the remains of a poker game. He loudly bawls along to the song that echoes through the room and holds a half-filled whiskey glass in his
hand, from which drops fly with his every exuberant movement. Before
There is a girl on the table who is dancing just as exuberantly as he is and then calls out to him to drink. He tilts his head back and empties the glass - and the next moment he throws it across
the room. It shatters on the wall, however, appears
not to bother anyone. On the contrary: a loud cheer goes through the room. Cyril bows, laughing, stumbles and stops
clings to the girl.
"I can't believe I was worried about him," Wren says, shaking his head.
»I just think that shows how justified your concern was,« counters Alistair, who has come up next to us. »His behavior reminds me of
James's in December."
The comment gives me a stab in the stomach. "We have to get him out of here," I call to them over the music. I
I exchange a look with the boys, then turn to Ruby. »Are you staying here for a moment? We'll get him and then we'll leave.'
Ruby's eyes are worried as he slides from me to Cyril, who is now swaying on the table and loudly demanding another drink.
Finally she nods. I give her a kiss on the forehead, then turn around, walk across the room and unceremoniously jump onto the table.
When Cyril sees me, he frowns. His eyes are red and I can't tell if he's drunk or crying. His look becomes even more serious when he spots the others below. Then he swallows hard.
The girl who was dancing with him has stopped. She seems to notice how serious the mood suddenly is and lets herself be helped from the table with a sigh. Meanwhile, Cyril and I just look at
each other. I search for the anger that I have in my
last two weeks, but surprisingly I can't find it. Not when I see how bad he is
this second is going on.
“What are you doing here?” he slurs after a while.
I swallow hard. "We're here to pick you up."
Cyril sways from side to side without looking away from me. His eyes become glassy.
“Come on,” I say and nod towards the door. Then I grab his arm and help him down from the table with Wren. Around us
There are a few boos, out of the corner of my eye I can see someone else take Cyril's place on the table and instantly
is encouraged to drink.
We try to support Cyril - Wren on his left, me on his right –, but he keeps collapsing again and again.
“Damn, Cy,” Wren groans. “Can you at least help a little?”
Cy slurs an answer, but I only half listen because at that moment we reach the double doors – and Ruby is no longer there.
I curse quietly and look around at Alistair and Kesh, who are also staring at the same spot.
"Where is she?" asks Alistair.
Kesh, who is the tallest of us all, looks around in all directions. When his expression darkens, I know he has spotted them
must.
»She's standing at the gallery. At McCormack's," he adds, but by then I was already moving. I put my arm around Cyril
Keshav's shoulders and immediately begin to fight my way to her.
"Beaufort!" says McCormack when he spots me. He has one hand resting on the railing next to Ruby. In the other he holds a mug with which he toasts me. "It's great that
you've come. I don't even remember inviting you.
"His tone is polite, almost as if he's greeting old friends - but we all know we're the exact opposite.
"I see you're taking care of this loser," McCormack continues. He grimaces in disgust as he watches Cyril from above
down to the bottom. "The idiot puked all over my toilet."
I don't want to be provoked by him. Really not. But then he lifts his hand from the railing and touches Ruby on the hip.
“And what brings you here?”
She takes a step toward me and away from McCormack at the same moment I take a step forward.
I open my mouth, but Ruby is faster. “Please don’t touch me,” she says, her tone friendly. I take her hand in mine as she
stands next to me.
McCormack looks from me to Ruby and back. His mocking smile widens even further. "How nice. Now that we've got this sorted out, you can go away. I really don't
need trash like you here."
I feel my free hand automatically clench into a fist. "Be careful what you say," I growl.
“Leave it alone, James,” Wren admonishes me quietly.
“Better listen to your lapdog, Beaufort.”
I take a step towards him, but suddenly Alistair is at my side, holding me back by the arm. I glare at him angrily.
"You made a fool of me last time when I attacked him, so don't look like that," he snaps at me. "We have more important things to do."
I know he's right. But I'm still fuming. It's one thing if McCormack makes a stupid comment to me. But he insulted my friends and Ruby, and everything in me wants to show
him exactly what I think.
But then I look at Ruby and think about how her parents would feel if I came home with a black eye or scraped knuckles.
Not good, that much is certain.
I swallow hard and then turn around abruptly. While Kesh and Wren support Cyril, I hold Ruby's hand.
We leave the party together.

18
Alistair
We are guaranteed to make a great picture wandering through the deserted streets of Eastview with Cyril in our midst. At the
At first he can barely keep himself upright and we only make progress because Keshav and Wren pull him along, but the longer we go, the better he gets. When we finally
found a shop that was still open at this time after two miles, we were out in the fresh air long enough for him to at least be approachable again.
He flops down on the bench seat, while Wren and Kesh take their seats next to him and James, Ruby and I sit across from him. Then he stares past us out the window, an apathetic
look in his eyes.
The longer I look at Cyril, the more worried I become about him. James seems to feel the same way, because his expression is a mixture of compassion, concern and anger. After
everything Cyril has done to him, Lydia and Ruby, I can't give him the latter either.
suspect.
"How about you tell us what the hell you were doing at McCormack's anyway?" Wren suggests, deliberately casually, after our drinks have been brought out. A still water
for Cyril, Coke for the rest of us - although I clearly saw Kesh and Wren flirting with the alcohol menu.
“Distraction,” Cyril says simply, trying hard not to slur. He really did look better: his face is red,
his hair is stringy and there are stains on his white shirt that I'd rather not know where they came from.
"I invited you to my housewarming party. You would have had a distraction there too."
Cyril snorts. "As if the invitation was serious."
"What else could I have meant?" asks Wren.
Cyril presses his lips together and looks away.
After a few seconds, Wren clears her throat. “I know how you feel, man. And me …"
“You don’t know shit,” Cyril hisses. “You have no idea what it feels like to lose everything you even begin to have
love. How it feels to be your own fault when all your friends hate you.”
Be silent. I think we're all holding our breath.
“We don’t hate you, Cy,” I finally say quietly.
Then Cyril just grits his teeth tightly. I have no idea what's going on in his head, but the red spots that
slowly spreading from his cheeks to his neck, I can see how close this conversation is to him.
"Alistair is right," James agrees. "We were worried about you."
Cyril looks up and pierces James with ice-blue eyes. "You said yourself that our friendship is lost."
James returns his gaze and then shrugs. »You really messed up. And I was mad, yes, but that doesn’t mean we hate you.”
Cyril lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. His gaze darts to the end of the bench as if he were considering jumping over Wren and Kesh and then fleeing the bar as
quickly as possible. At the same moment, Wren leans forward and rests both arms on the grained wooden table. Cyril grits his teeth and sinks back again. He runs both hands over
his face and lets out a soft groan.
"I don't understand you, Cy," I say, glaring at him as he lowers his hands. "You 're the one who screwed up.
You 're the one who caused Lydia to disappear and Ruby to get expelled from school. You don't have a single time
tries to talk to us, but rather just assume that we hate you. How is this supposed to continue? Should we now?
Always stay so broken?” I shake my head. "Why are you being like this?"
“Because I know I screwed up, okay?” Cyril shouts, slamming his fist on the table so hard that his water glass shakes dangerously. »That is more than clear to me. I know
you’ll never forgive me for this, so why bother?”
I stare at him with wide eyes. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly. He looks like he did at the party when James
helped: as if he was about to start crying at any moment, but was trying with all his might to stop himself.
"I don't know what you actually want from me," he continues, more calmly. "Why do you care what I do in my free time?"
"We care because you're still our friend," Wren says firmly. "Despite everything."
I hum in agreement. Cyril just presses his lips tightly together.
"Just talk to us," Kesh suggests calmly. "We don't even know what exactly happened."
“Would that change anything?” Cy replies resignedly.
Kesh looks at him sideways with dark eyes. Finally he lifts a shoulder. “It can’t hurt, can it?”
Cyril stares at the tabletop. He takes a deep breath and lets the air escape audibly. His eyes flicker briefly to Ruby, who is sitting next to James and hasn't made a sound during
our entire conversation.
“I wanted to go to Lexington and tell him the truth,” he finally begins in a hoarse voice. He shakes his head and looks at the tabletop. “But then your father showed up at my house,
James. He has declared war on me if I even try to help Ruby. I... got scared and let him intimidate me because I know what he's doing
is capable.”
Suddenly it's so quiet at the table that you can almost hear the carbon dioxide rising on the rim of the glasses.
"I didn't dare go to Lexington, but I knew I had to do something. So I sent you the pictures." Cyril swallows hard. "And I meant what I said to you at the club. I'm really, really sorry."
The waiter comes over and asks us if he can bring us anything else. Ruby is the only one who reacts and politely declines. We
spend a few minutes in silence until I can't stand it anymore.
»We have to do better than our parents,« I say. My voice breaks the uncomfortable silence. »We have already
always said, didn't we? That we don't want to be like them. Maybe with the exception of Kesh, because his parents are saints."
“I don’t know about you, but I’m so tired of all this,” James adds. We all turn to him. “I'm so tired of seeing us fall apart. Even though a lot will change for us in the near future, I
am sure of one thing: you are important to me. I want to have you in my life. “Each of you,” he says, looking directly at Cyril.
"We've been through so much together." Wren bumps his shoulder into Cyril's.
"You can't ignore the situation, Cy," Kesh says. "You can't just disappear, stop coming to school and spend your weekends getting stoned with James McCormack. OK?"
It's quiet again for a minute. Then Cyril looks up from the tabletop and looks at Ruby.
"I'm sorry," he croaks. “I wish I could undo this with the pictures.”
Ruby presses her lips tightly together and nods abruptly. Her cheeks suddenly look pale. "It's... it's okay, Cyril."
"It's not, and we both know it," he counters. "But I still want you to know how much I regret it."
Ruby and he look at each other, and there seems to be a silent exchange between them, in which she seems to be checking how serious he means those words.
"I don't think I've ever heard him apologize so much," Wren says suddenly.
"I've never heard Cyril use the word 'sorry' before," agrees Kesh.
Cyril tears his eyes away from Ruby and runs a hand through his hair. Then, as if he had had the idea after the fact, he punches Wren and then Kesh in the shoulder. The latter tries to avoid it and
almost slips off the bench, which is such a funny sight that James and I have to laugh.
"It's time for you to go back to school," James says to Cyril.
Half an eternity seems to pass before Cyril finally nods. "You're right."
It's after three o'clock when I call my driver to come and pick us up at the pub in Eastview. First we drive Wren, James and Ruby to Gormsey, then we drop Cyril off at home. He gets out, but
before he closes the door he bends down and looks inside the car. He looks back and forth between Kesh and me.
"I..." he begins, clearing his throat. "Thanks for tonight, guys."
“Anytime,” Kesh replies.
"Next time, get drunk with us, not with James McCormack," I say, and immediately get a kick in the shin from Kesh.
“Understood,” Cyril murmurs and then turns around. I close the car door and knock on the front screen to signal Rupert that he can continue driving.
“Where to, sir?” he asks.
"To Keshav, please," I answer. A little later, the car starts moving. Tired, I let my head sink against the backrest.
“That hurt,” I say, rubbing my shin with one hand.
“You ruined a very moving moment with your comment.” His eyes flick to my leg. “I didn’t mean to kick you that hard, I’m sorry.”
"I just wanted to lighten the mood between us a bit," I reply. "The evening was too heavy for my liking."
Kesh just grumbles. He sits on the bench opposite me. Unlike me, he doesn't get sick when reversing. He can even read in the car, which is unimaginable for me. As soon as I pick up a book, I could
hang my head out the window and start wandering off.
Kesh used to make fun of me for getting so sick in the car and started doing experiments to find out what exactly was causing me to feel sick. Since then I've learned that I can make out in the
car without any problems, but definitely can't play on my phone.
Luckily, my body has the right priorities.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kesh says suddenly. His voice has taken on an even darker tone than usual. He lets his gaze wander from my eyes to my mouth, but then jerks it away from me, as if he
himself had noticed what he was doing. He turns his head to the window.
“How did I look at you?” I ask.
The change in mood comes so suddenly that it almost makes me dizzy.
"You looked at me as if you were thinking about the past," he replies after a while.
I swallow hard. “Am I not allowed to do that?”
Kesh makes a sound that is supposed to be something like a laugh, but at the same time sounds desperate. "No."
"No, why not?"
He looks at me again. "Because you shouldn't cling to memories when you could be experiencing new moments with me instead."
His words leave me speechless. It takes me a moment to speak again. "Kesh ..."
"I told my mum," he interrupts.
My heart is pounding in my chest. I only notice Kesh, everything else around me is fading into the distance. "What?"
"I told her that I am bisexual and that I am attracted to both men and women."
The thoughts are racing in my head. I don't know what to say first. I clear my throat and start asking the question that seems most important to me at that moment. “How did she react?”
Kesh exhales sharply. "It's different to what I expected. It was really hard for me, and to be honest I wasn't as scared of Mum as I was of Dad. At first she thought I was sick or something because I
was so nervous and started crying before I could even say a word. When I told her, she was relieved that it wasn't anything serious. Then she immediately apologized and asked if it had been
tactless of me to say that."
I listen to his story with bated breath.
"Overall, it was... I don't know. Better than I thought it would be?" He makes it sound almost like a question.
"That sounds great," I croak.

Kesh nods and looks at his hands.
The moment between us expands.
"I... I didn't pressure you, did I?" I finally ask.
He shakes his head without looking up. "No. I didn't do it for you, I did it for myself. I wanted to tell Mum because it was
felt right.«
I feel the pressure in my chest ease a little.
»She said she loved me. And I think she ordered information brochures or did research on the Internet or something because she wanted me
now constantly asks questions that sound like they're from an education textbook. She also gave me a lecture on safe sex for the second time." Kesh grimaces. "This time it was much
more uncomfortable than the first time."
I let out a snort of laughter. "I love your mum."
Kesh smiles at his hands. "And I love you."
The car stops. I think my heart does too.
I stare at Kesh, who raises his head and looks at me - straight on. His gaze is open and vulnerable, like I've never seen it before. The atmosphere in the car changes again. It feels like
Kesh is too close and yet too far away. I want to reach out my hand, but I can't move.
“What did you just say?” I whisper.
Keshav swallows hard. “I said I love you, Alistair. I've been doing this for quite some time. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.”
Every word he says touches me deep inside. For so long I've hoped to hear those words from him - or even just a hint
of it. To hear him say that now is beyond my imagination. Tears burn in my eyes that I cannot blink away. I
can't do anything as they break free from the corners of my eyes and run down my cheeks.
What I do then happens by itself. My body feels like it's being controlled by remote control as I lunge forward towards Kesh and wrap my arms around his neck. He can audibly deflate, but at this
moment I don't care. All that matters is being as close to him as possible.
"I love you too," I murmur into his hair.
Kesh puts both arms around my back and pulls me close to him. "Cool."
A hoarse laugh bursts out of me, at the same time more tears run down my cheeks. I pull away from him a little to
to be able to see his face. "That's your reaction? Cool?"
He raises a hand to my face and wipes the moisture from my cheeks. A smile plays around the corners of his mouth. »Yes,« he says
simple. The answer is so much Kesh that I have to hug him again and hold him tight. He runs his hands gently over my back and doesn't really help my heart to calm down.
“Would you like to come in?” he finally asks. He smiles uncertainly. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet.”
I pull away from him a little and look into his eyes. "Gladly."
Kesh leans forward a little and brushes his mouth over mine. It's just a light touch, but goosebumps spread across my arms.
"Cool," he mutters again.
Then he gently lowers his lips to mine.

19
Human
The coming week is pure hell for me. Firstly, because I got two bad exams back and that's why Mum and Dad
are disappointed in me, and on the other hand because I can't get the Wren thing out of my head and I think about him all the time.
I haven't seen much of Ruby and James in the last few days. When they are not sitting at their desk or at the kitchen table
and prepare for the final exams together, they go to visit Lydia or organize something for the event committee. Only once did I hear them talking about the party at Wren's in
the living room, when James said how good the evening was
was ultimately for all of them and that he will be visiting Wren more often from now on. It was hard for me to suppress a snort of contempt.
“Is everything okay?” my friend Maisie asks me as we leave the school building after the last lesson. Normally we are not in a hurry and take our time on the stairs to talk about everything. But
today I just want to go home and bury myself so deeply in the Internet that all thoughts of Wren Fitzgerald are driven from my mind.
»It wasn't exactly a great week,« I answer, my eyes fixed on my patent leather boots. They are neon pink with big buckles and
They don't match the school uniform at all, but I don't care. I got it cheap at a flea market and have been happy ever since
every day about being able to wear it. Especially because the color usually puts me in a good mood.
Unfortunately not today.
»I messed up chemistry too. Don't worry, Embermouse," Maisie says encouragingly, patting me on the back with the palm of her hand.
“Was the rhyme intentional?” I ask, grinning.
“No, but that makes you realize what an incredible talent I have for languages,” she says with a grin.
“Not if Mrs. Wright has her way.” I dodge her next blow with a grin, almost tripping over the next step.
"Hello? You have to be nice to me. After all, I don't have a hot secret boyfriend who picks me up from school."
"I don't have a hot secret..." I begin, but stop mid-sentence when I see who is leaning on the banister at the bottom, looking up at me with his hands in his pockets.
Wren.
He is here.
At my school.
I bite the inside of my tongue. I'm angry, but also unsure. He didn't respond to my message.
In fact, I haven't heard from him at all since last weekend.
I have no idea what he wants here.
"See you tomorrow, OK? Oh, and ask your mum if she can give you another scone for me. Thanks, you're the best!" Maisie calls out to me, and before I get a chance to stop her, she jumps down
the remaining steps, her two braided pigtails flying in the air behind her.
Suddenly left to my own devices, I take a deep breath and slowly go downstairs. When I've met Wren over the last few weeks, I've always looked him up and down, trying to memorize every detail
about him - like the slight crease in his left ear, the small burn hole in his leather jacket, or the notches around his Corners of his mouth when he smiles in a very specific way.
Now I don't look at him as I go down the stairs, nor when we're level and he opens his mouth to say something
say. Instead, I walk past him without saying a word.
"Wait!" he calls, and I can hear him running after me.
I ignore him.
“Of course we’re friends, Ember,” he calls from behind me.
I stop on my heel and press my lips tightly together.
Wren comes around and stands in front of me. It hurts to look at him, so I stare at the yellowed toes of my shoes instead
his Chucks.
Not much better either.
How can it be that I have invested so much in this friendship in such a short space of time?
How is it that I am already so attached to this boy?
"I know this is too late to answer, but... we 're friends," Wren repeats, more forcefully this time.
Now I can't help it - I look into his eyes. “It didn’t feel like that this week,” I reply. »I had it like that
understood that we want to tell Ruby and the others about our friendship. And then I find out from my sister that you
Throwing a party where I’m obviously not welcome.”
"I'm sorry," he says. He runs his hand through his hair, and only then do I realise how much he looks in his Maxton Hall uniform.
stands out. A few of my classmates eye us curiously as they walk past us, but I can't worry about that right now.
I shake my head. "You haven't responded to my text messages for a week. Or given any sign of life at all. That's not how friends behave."
"I know, and I'm really sorry." He searches for the right words for a moment. “But this party... All my friends are
I just couldn't invite you there, Ember."
It feels like his words have punched me in the chest and I take a step back.
I renovated his room with Wren and spent nights searching the internet for scholarships for him. I was the one who helped him cope, was there for him when he needed someone to talk to in the
middle of the night. We talked and wrote to each other for hours. I thought we were good friends.
Apparently I was wrong.

It hurt not to hear from him this week, but it was nothing compared to the pain his words just caused me. At the same time, I realized something very clearly in that moment.
»I didn't spend years learning to love myself just to have someone make me feel so bad
to be conveyed,” I say.
Wren shakes his head and takes another step towards me. "It was not meant like that. I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression about me or my friends. And after your text... I
didn't know how to answer you. Or whether you
want to hear from me at all. I haven't thought about what that must look like for you."
"It looks to me like you just want to meet me in secret," I reply tonelessly.
I almost expect him to deny it and insist how important I am to him. I wait for a response. Ten seconds pass.
Twenty. More than thirty before I lose track and the situation becomes really unpleasant. I realize I won't get an answer. Swallowing hard, I look at Wren's face. I look at his dark brown eyes, the
black, curled eyelashes, the small birthmark on his right cheek.
Then I tear my eyes away from him and clear my throat.
“Bye, Wren,” I say, turning around and leaving him standing on the sidewalk. It's only then that I realize how sweaty my palms feel. How fast my pulse is racing.
And how much my heart hurts.
Lydia
“What do you think of this place?” asks Ophelia.
I can only stop myself from wrinkling my nose at the last moment when I look at the cardigans my aunt is showing me on her iPad.
They're pink, sparkly, and about the last thing I want to put my kids in.
"I think a little less pink wouldn't hurt," I say diplomatically, whereupon Ophelia is the one who wrinkles her nose.
"You're just like your mother. She always resisted using color in your clothes."
Over the last few weeks I've been going through Ophelia's photo albums and I've discovered that Mum had fantastic taste in James' and my outfits. They were mostly in neutral tones and
always matched perfectly without being exactly the same. I want my babies to be just as stylish infants.
“Mum just got the hang of it,” I say.
Ophelia sighs and pulls the iPad back. Then she continues to scroll through the online shop, where she has just put almost everything into the shopping cart.
pushes what is available in the smallest size.
"I don't understand how you stand it," she finally says, looking at me over the top of her sunglasses. "I'd be bursting with curiosity if I were you."
I lean back on the lounger and look at the underside of the striped parasol spread above us on Ophelia's terrace.
"I'm really curious too. But it's more like... a joyful anticipation."
“When did you actually decide that the two of them should be a surprise package?” asks Ophelia.
I stroke my belly absentmindedly. »The pregnancy was a surprise from the beginning. When my doctor
asked if I wanted to know the gender, I thought it was a good idea to wait. Surprise is now basically the motto of my entire pregnancy."
Since I have been with Ophelia, I no longer feel like I have to whisper when I talk about my babies. She has helped me
to loosen up and accept that there is nothing I can do but let things come to me and then make the best of it. She probably doesn't know this, but it is only thanks to her support that I am not
losing my head now, one and a half months before the due date.
I can accept that her taste in baby clothes leaves a lot to be desired and I still shudder today when I think of the neon green dungarees that she suggested to me with shining eyes, but which I
personally would only use for
deter insects.
“Sweetheart, your cell phone is ringing,” says Ophelia, pointing to the small side table that stands between our two garden chairs.
I push my sunglasses into my hair to see the display better. When I see who is calling me, my heart sinks into
the pants – or rather the maxi dress.
Cyril's name is on the display.
I pick up the phone and look uncertainly at the small picture that is displayed above his name. It was taken at James' and my last birthday party. Cyril has put a hand on my head and pulled me
close to him, and I beam in
the camera as if I was having the best night of my life.
The memory of what Cyril once meant to me and the knowledge of what he is capable of and what he has done collide
each other, and for a moment I'm so overwhelmed that I don't know whether I should answer it or throw the cell phone as far away as possible.
After two deep breaths, I decide on the former.
"Hello?" I ask hoarsely.
"Lydia." He sounds surprised, as if he hadn't expected me to pick up.
I'm waiting.
"How...um. How are you?" he asks.
For a moment I'm so stunned that I don't know what to say. “Are you serious?” I finally say
in disbelief.
He is silent for a moment. I can hear him take a deep breath, then finally he sighs. »I have no idea how to start this conversation
should."
“Then why are you calling?” I bark at him. All the anger I've felt towards Cyril over the past time bursts out of me with full force. I can't stand it for a second longer on the garden chair and
heave myself up. I can see Ophelia's eyes on me
but I don't turn to her. Instead, I take a few steps through the garden and try to calm myself down.
The lawn sprinkler is on and I have to swerve to avoid getting wet.
“I wanted to apologize,” Cy says.
“It’s pretty late for that,” I say bitterly.
"You have every right to be angry with me," he says quickly. »I could understand if you never spoke to me again. I just wanted to call to apologize. I'm...I'm so sorry for how I behaved."
I swallow hard and push back the burning that wants to come into my eyes. Cyril's friendship was so important to me. That we
ending up in bed together was drunken recklessness coupled with heartbreak that I desperately wanted to distract myself from. It was great, but stupid and reckless at the same time. And if I
had known that Cyril wanted more from me, I would never have done it.
“I know I hurt you, Cy,” I say, my voice trembling. “But pulling shit like that…”
"I know."
"You didn't care who you were dragging down with you. Ruby almost lost her place at Oxford. And I don't even want to get started on James and the blame he's making for the whole thing."
"I didn't think about it," he says.
"What bullshit," I burst out loudly. I feel like stomping on the little flowers growing next to me at the edge of the flowerbed, I'm so angry. "I've known you for eighteen years, Cyril. There's nothing
you do without calculation. In that respect, you're just like James. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly what the consequences would be."
He is silent for a moment. His breathing is ragged. »I wanted everything to go back to how it used to be. I wanted you and James in mine
Life, and I didn't care who paid the price as long as it brought us closer together again. But now I do care. I deeply regret what I did."
I've never heard Cyril talk like that before. He usually gives the impression that he's in control - of himself, of his friends, of the whole world. But now it seems as if he's completely lost that control.
"I don't know if you can forgive me. I don't even know if I can forgive myself," he continues. "But if you still have me in
If you want something in your life, I'm here for you. That…I just wanted to tell you.”
I can hear desperation and remorse in his words, but above all one thing: sincerity. He honestly means what he says. But I'm not sure if Cyril understands that I'm no longer the same person I
was six months ago. My life has turned around
turned one hundred and eighty degrees while still seeming to cling to the past.
I don't know how to make him understand how important Graham is to me and what our relationship means to me. I'm not even sure Cyril has a right to an explanation after betraying my trust like
that. But I have to tell him this one thing. Otherwise I don't know how we can move forward.
"I'd like to tell you something, Cy," I begin in a scratchy voice.
“What?” he asks quietly.
I take a deep breath. “Dad didn't just throw me out because I was with Graham. He kicked me out because I
"I'm pregnant."
I can hear him inhale sharply. What feels like an eternity passes in which we are both silent. I wiggle my toes a little and
I concentrate on the feeling of the warm grass beneath my feet.
"I don't know what to say," he finally admits in a hoarse voice.
I don't know. I don't want to hurt Cyril any further, but I think it's time we clear things up between us once and for all.
"I'm sorry if this upsets you," I say awkwardly. "But I want to be honest with you."
“What have I done?” croaks Cyril.
“It would have come out sooner or later anyway,” I say. “Not that that would justify your behavior, but Dad would have me like that
or banished at some point.«
Silence spreads between us again. It feels like we're spending more time on this phone call, nothing
rather than talking to each other. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. A lot can be achieved through shared silence.
On the one hand, I can literally feel Cy trying to digest what I have just revealed to him. On the other hand, I remember everything that has connected us for ages - days when we skipped Maxton
Hall and went to
We went shopping in London. We spent all night talking and moments when I thought I would never find a friend like him again.
One thing becomes clear to me at this moment: I cannot imagine a future without Cyril. And even though he has hurt me deeply, I do not want to lose him.
"Are you going to be okay with this, Cy?" I ask quietly.
He clears his throat and sounds as if he wants to answer, but nothing comes. I look at the pink flowers in Ophelia's bed, which were still closed when I arrived, but have now fully opened.
“Do you think I would be a cool uncle?” is finally heard on the other end of the receiver.
A hesitant smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I feel my heart lighten. "You'd definitely be a cool uncle."
Ruby
“I have something for you,” says James.
I look up from my book and look up at him. James is standing next to the lawn chair I was lounging on over an hour ago, smiling at me. He is holding a small stack of papers in his hand.
»That sounds very mysterious. What?« I ask and close the book – not without first putting the bookmark in the right place.
place.
James comes around the table and sits on the chair next to me. I try to get a look at the papers, but
the second he folds them up and presses them to his stomach.
“How do you feel about surprises?” he asks me.

I immediately think of our date in the winter garden. James surprised me then too, and I remember the evening as one of the most beautiful we have ever
spent together.
"When surprises come from you, I like them. I think," I add, which brings a smile to his lips.
"I want to kidnap you for the weekend."
I sit up so abruptly that the book almost slips off my lap. I grip it tightly with both hands. "When?"
He nods. "Now. If you feel like it."
I can't help the smile that spreads across my entire face. "Where to?"
"That's the surprise," he says with a grin.
»James!«
Now he laughs. "You need things for an overnight stay."
Suddenly I'm very jittery. “And we’re leaving soon?”
“As soon as you’re ready.”
I stand up. I feel James's eyes on my back the whole way through the garden, and before I go into the house I turn to him one more time. The look on his face
makes my heart beat faster.
He looks happy.
As I pass the kitchen, I stick my head in the door. Mum is standing at the counter, chopping onions, while Dad is drizzling oil into a pan.
“James invited me on a short trip,” I say, not quite managing to keep the excitement out of my voice.
Mum turns around. »We already know. He asked us beforehand if it was okay for us.”
"Do you know where we're going?"
She grins meaningfully. "Maybe."
I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, she points the knife at me. "Forget it. I won't say a single word. Not a single."
"That's unfair. You always blab to Dad when it comes to surprises.”
"Because my arguments are simply unbeatable and I have a talent for pushing the right buttons," Dad interjects as he puts a handful of peppers into the pan.
“You realize that sounds pretty disgusting, right?” I ask, the corners of my mouth turning down.
A thoughtful frown forms between his brows. "You're right," he says. "How funny." Then he acts as if nothing had happened and pushes the peppers back and
forth with a spoon.
I feel James come up behind me and rub my back, just briefly. It's like that every time we're in the presence of my parents: small, secret gestures and touches.
No more.
“Will I get at least a tiny tip?” I ask, smiling.
James leans forward until his mouth pauses just above my ear. “I want to grant you one of your wishes, Ruby Bell.”
A tingling sensation spreads from my stomach throughout my body.
"Then I'd better go and pack," I say in a hoarse voice.

20
Ruby
For the first half hour I have no idea where we are going. But at some point we pass a road sign announcing the next big cities and then it clicks.
“No!” I exclaim.
"No, what?" James replies.
"Are we going... are we going to Oxford?"
Actually, the question is superfluous. His smile is answer enough.
Since I don't know what else to do, but am suddenly so excited, I hit him on the shoulder with full force. »That's so
cool! Where exactly are we going?” I ask. »Are we going to the university? To St. Hildas? There are actually no events planned there, I
I subscribed to the feed and am also signed up for the newsletter. Oh, or maybe I missed something? Find any event
instead of?"
James grins. “You have to wait a little longer to see the schedule.” Then he briefly rubs his left upper arm. “By the way, that hurt.”
"It's not my fault. That was the excitement speaking out of me."
He laughs and shakes his head.
After another hour’s drive, I realise that we are no longer on the direct route to Oxford, but on my
James only shrugs his shoulders at the questioning sound. We drive through a roundabout and two more, and at some point
James takes an exit that doesn't look familiar to me. When he drives onto another country road, I give up trying to guess where he
brought
Not to campus, that's for sure.
We stay on the country road for another half hour, then James turns right onto a smaller path and a little later onto one
even narrower. If a car comes towards us now, we will have to swerve into the rapeseed field to our left. I look at the switched off navigation device and wonder if James has perhaps lost his
way and just doesn't want to admit it. But when I
When you give him a sideways glance, he seems relaxed.
I don't miss his happy smile either.
“You enjoy teasing me like this,” I say.
“Maybe a little,” he admits, the slight smile never leaving his lips. “But if it's any consolation, in about ten minutes
we should be there.«
The route takes us to Brightwell-cum-Sotwell, a picturesque village in Oxfordshire. We drive past a row of thatched-roof houses that would make the perfect picture for a postcard, and a few farms
with donkeys and sheep in the pastures. Then bend
James turns onto a gravel path and after a few minutes a small cottage appears in the distance. It has an attached conservatory, the frame of which has been painted mint green,
and the driveway is lined with many small trees and shrubs that grow in
are in full bloom and make the whole thing look at least as picturesque and fairytale-like as the rest of the village.
"We're sleeping in a cottage?" I ask, without taking my eyes off the beautiful sight.
“Not quite,” James says, parking the car on the left side of the long driveway. He unbuckles himself and then gets out. I do
do the same, and together we walk towards the cottage, where at the same moment a middle-aged blonde woman comes out of the door and smiles politely at us.
"Hello you two. You must be James, I'm Martha," she says.
“Exactly, we emailed,” replies James. "This is my girlfriend, Ruby."
"I'm so glad it worked out." She holds up a bunch of keys with a self-woven ribbon and a carved wooden leaf attached. "The cottage is at the back of the garden. If you want, I can show it to you
right away," she says, then points to a small path that leads past the cottage.
James nods. We follow her into the garden, where wildflowers and shrubs grow criss-cross and where about
There is a small house fifty meters from the cottage. It almost looks like a converted caravan, but it is made of wood, has a dark roof and a sliding door that is open at this moment. There
is a small window on the side with a white, transparent curtain drawn over it. A staircase leads inside and flowers are planted all around the cottage, the smell of which fills the air.
»Here we are,« says Martha. »In the pictures you can see that there is a double bed and a view of the fields to the west.
You'll find hygiene products in the bathroom, and everything else you need should be there."
James nods next to me, but I can't take my eyes off the accommodation. Excitement spreads through me, from my stomach
to the tips of my fingers.
»Breakfast is served in our winter garden,« Martha continues. »There is coffee and a selection of teas, fresh milk from the
Farm next door, homemade jams and eggs from our own chickens. I also bake fresh bread every morning, which you can enjoy warm if you are awake in time.«
“That sounds great,” I say.
She hands James the key. »If you have any questions, I'll be home by lunchtime today. Afterwards I have to go to work, but you can call me on my cell phone if it's urgent. You have my
number, right?”
James nods. "Yes thank you."
»See you later, maybe.« She waves to us and goes back the way we came. I immediately take James' hand and
I pull him with me to the small staircase that leads to the entrance door of the hut. It is too narrow for us to climb up side by side
could, so I go forward and stick my head inside, heart pounding.
The first thing I see is a double bed that stretches from one side of the wall to the other because the hut is so narrow. Directly opposite, at the other end of the room, is a black wood-burning
fireplace with some logs stacked in front of it. In the middle, against the wall, is a narrow chest of drawers with a kettle on it and a box from which tea bags are poured into the
of various kinds. Above it hang several tea and coffee mugs on small hooks, and next to it is a wooden door that probably leads to the bathroom.
James strokes the back of my hand with his thumb and I turn to him. His gaze goes right through me: He is
loving and warm, but at the same time I detect a hint of nervousness and excitement. As if he wasn't sure how I would react.
"After everything you've been through these last few weeks, I thought a little break from it all would be nice," he says quietly.
"I …"
He doesn't get any further because I wrap my arms around his neck and smother any further words from him with my stormy embrace.
I close my eyes and hold James tight, trying to commit this moment to memory forever so I can remember it every time
I'm feeling bad, I can bring it out again and hold on to it.
"Best surprise ever," I say into James' neck. Then I lean back a little and look into his eyes. "Thanks."
He smiles and pushes a strand of hair out of my face. I put a hand around his neck, pull him towards me and kiss him.
James makes a muffled noise and immediately wraps his arms around me. He pulls me close to him and deepens the kiss. I moan as our tongues touch and I feel
James' hands restlessly stroking my back. I run my fingers through his soft hair and am about to bite his bottom lip when he abruptly pulls away from me.
“That’s not possible,” he says breathlessly.
“Not?” I ask dazedly.
He shakes his head. “We still have plans, Ruby.”
I really want to stay here. Letting myself sink onto this bed with James, enjoying the fact that we are finally alone and together with him
forget the time. But at the same time I want to know why we are here and what else he has planned for today.
"If you want, we can drop off the things and then drive right on," says James.
I don't have to think long. "Agreed."
Because no matter where it takes me, I’m looking forward to it.
Oxford is only around thirteen miles from Brightwell-cum-Sotwell. During the journey, which takes longer than expected due to a traffic jam, we listen to a completely stupid but funny radio
show. It's so warm outside that I can open the window and stretch my hand outside. I cut the air with my fingers and take in the sight of the houses and fields flying by.
We drive to the north of Oxford on the Leckford Road and stop there in a parking lot on the side of the road. James comes around the car
around and opens the door for me. After I got out, I looked around curiously. We are in a residential area with apartment buildings, all of which have bay windows
and pointed roofs, walls made of roughened stone and stained fronts that have been left for decades
must have been exposed to English weather.
James walks with me to one of the house entrances, where a young man is already waiting to shake his hand.
“Hello, Mr Beaufort,” he says politely and then shakes my hand too. "I'm Shaun Cornell, we spoke on the phone." Den
He says the first part of the sentence to me and the last part to James. »Shall we?«
Confused, I look back and forth between the two of them and I'm about to ask James what this house is all about when I look at him
gets stuck on the folder that Mr. Cornell has tucked under his arm. It has a logo printed on it. More precisely, the logo of the brokerage firm, which I also saw on
the sign that is placed in front of the house.
"James," I whisper as we follow the real estate agent into the apartment building. "What are we doing here?"
James strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. "We're looking at an apartment."
I stand on the landing. When he sees my shocked look, he quickly shakes his head.
“For me,” he says quickly. "I can't stay with you forever and I need something for after graduation."
"I thought you didn't want to go to Oxford," I say quietly.
»You'll ruin my plan if you question me now. Shouldn't we just go up and see what the apartment looks like? I'll explain everything to you as soon as we have some
peace and quiet.'
I hesitate. The questions are racing in my head and I would like to ask them all at once. But then my eyes fall on the real estate agent walking up the stairs in front of us
and I remind myself to be patient. James will have already thought of something, and I don't want to ruin his plan.
“Okay,” I finally say.
James squeezes my hand.
Once at the top, Mr. Cornell opens the door with a large bunch of keys and holds it open for us to enter.
“The property is an old building apartment with two bedrooms,” he begins to say. »The historic property
scores with a great floor plan, a large communal garden and a parking space for one car. Feel free to take a look around yourself.« He makes a hand gesture that
includes the hallway and the rest of the apartment. »I'll wait outside and will be happy to come back when you're finished and have any questions.«
James nods. "Thanks, Shaun."
The estate agent smiles politely and then leaves the apartment. I can still hear his footsteps on the stairs, then it is quiet.
I slowly look around. The apartment is in good condition, even if the wooden floors creak as soon as you move even an inch.
"Shall we go through?" asks James, nodding toward the first room off the hallway to the right.
I go ahead and enter a small, rectangular living room, painted in a terracotta tone and decorated with stucco on the high ceiling. There is a fireplace and a small bay
window through which the midday sun shines into the room. In front of the bay window is a dining table that already shows some signs of wear and tear, and the chairs
don't look particularly sturdy either, but that doesn't change the fact that I immediately feel at home here - as if I were in a home and not in a
sterile space that first has to be filled with life.
“Next room?” James asks quietly.
»Yes,« I reply and go with him from the living room back into the hallway. The next room is the kitchen, which is a bit
is narrow, but impresses with the high-quality granite work surface (which my dad would certainly kill for) and is otherwise complete
is furnished with a refrigerator, gas stove and oven, although the latter, as I notice on closer inspection, urgently needs to be cleaned again.
James doesn't need to ask me if we want to go into the next room. This time I'm the one who gently tugs on his hand,
so that he can come with me.
In contrast to the living room, the bedroom is square and has light gray walls. There is only a wooden bed frame here, and there is also a small built-in wardrobe that is about the same size as the
one in my room at home. A large lamp with a white shade hangs in the middle of the ceiling.
The last thing we look at is the bathroom. It's not particularly big either, but the grout lines are clean and I can't find any stains on the walls.
Then it's time for the last room. It's about the same size as the bedroom, and the current tenant appears to have used it as an office.
On one wall there is a large old desk with a black executive chair. Above it hangs a whiteboard on which notes have been scribbled.
are that I cannot decipher.
The best thing is that you can see the garden of the house from here. When I go to the window, I see one of the neighbors playing with her beagle, while on the property next door a man is hanging
laundry on a clothesline. I watch the two of them for a while, then I turn around, lean against the window ledge and look at James, who is standing directly behind me.
»The apartment is nice, although a few things need to be done.«
James returns my gaze. He raises his hand and brushes a strand of hair from my face that has come loose from my braid. He gently tucks it behind my ear. "I think it's great too."
I wait to see if he says anything else, but at this moment he seems to be fascinated by my ear, over which he slowly runs his
Finger moves. I get pleasant goose bumps.
“Now would you like to explain to me why we are here?” I ask.
He nods, but it takes another moment before he starts speaking.
"We never talked about what we were going to do next," he says finally. "After graduation, I mean."
I swallow hard. I didn't even allow myself to think about this kind of conversation. Not after everything we'd been through. I didn't want to bring the next challenge within reach just as we'd
overcome the first one.
"I want to buy this apartment, Ruby," James says suddenly.
My heart starts racing and my pulse is literally pounding in my ears. "What?"
There is a certainty in James's eyes that makes me feel excited but at the same time safe. He reaches into his back pocket and
pulls out his leather wallet. He opens it and then takes a folded piece of paper from one of the compartments. The paper is at the corners
now brownish and looks as if it has taken on the color of the wallet. When James opens the piece of paper, I recognize him
immediately.
It is James' list. The one we wrote down in Oxford, that night when we spoke and confided in each other. In
that night when we were closer than ever before.
It now looks pretty worn, as if he had unfolded and folded it up countless times.
"Do you remember this?" asks James.
“Of course,” I say.
»You are the first person who made me feel like there were dreams worth fighting for.«
"James..." I whisper.
He waits for me to say more, but I can only stare at the piece of paper in his hand.
"I want to tackle this. I mean, tackle it properly," he continues after a while. "I want to see what the world has in store for me. And I know that your path is already set and mine isn't, but I've been
thinking the whole time about how we can still experience the time after high school together. How we can both make our dreams come true without having to
Lose.” I can see him swallow.
My heart is beating faster and faster. I grip his hand so tightly that it must hurt James, but he doesn't let it show.
“Can I show you something?” he asks.
I nod, completely paralyzed and at the same time intoxicated by his words. James walks over to the desk and sits down. Then he picks up his bag and takes out his MacBook. He opens it, enters
his password and then clicks on the browser.
I stand behind him and place my hands on the back of the chair. James types something in the address bar, but he's like that
quickly that I can't read it. Less than three seconds later a page opens. It's a blog with the name written at the top in clear letters:
Beyond Beaufort
The design is simple and clear, the only colors are muted gray and blue tones. In the upper half of the homepage,
Landscape images and some text passages are displayed in a slider.
I scroll down – and hold my breath.
In a box labeled "About James Beaufort" is a picture of James that I have never seen before. He wears a simple one
black shirt, and although the picture is black and white, I immediately recognize that it was taken in our garden. If it weren't for the
Seeing our apple tree in the background would have revealed the copyright at the latest, which is in small letters in the bottom right corner
says: © Ember Bell.
In shock, I look first at the laptop screen, then back at James. He takes a deep breath.
"I'd like to try this, Ruby. I want to work through the list we made together, one thing at a time. I want to find out what my passion is, and I want to take my time with it. I want to travel and see the
world," James says quickly.
The words just tumble out of him. He half turns in the chair and looks up at me. »But above all, I want to
you."
I am speechless. I try to sort out the wildly jumbled thoughts in my head, but James' words have taken me completely by surprise. I try to answer several times, but I stop every time because I
don't know how to express what
I feel I should express.
Ultimately, the only reaction I am capable of is breathless laughter.
“When did you learn to use Wordpress, please?”
James blinks in perplexity, then smiles. "I took lessons from Ember."
Shaking my head, I look at the home page. I lean forward and scroll from top to bottom again. There's not much there yet, just a bit of filler text and
example formatting from various travel reports, but I can imagine how James will fill this blog with experiences. The thought of what this step must mean for
him makes my heart beat faster.
Without further hesitation, I walk around the chair and sit on James' lap. I wrap my arms around his neck, close my eyes and hold him tight.
I have to think of the boy I met in September. He was so reserved and whose obligations to
his family. This boy would never have believed it possible for him to have a future of his own making.
"That's a great idea," I whisper against his neck.
James puts his arms around me and pulls me tightly to him. »I'm glad you think so. I was really scared about today. I…” He
pauses. »I have you to thank for all this, Ruby. You gave me the impetus to listen to myself and to think about what I
actually want to do it after school. I will forever be grateful to you for that.”
I lean back a little so that I can look him in the eyes. I stroke my hand over his neck, further forward
over his jaw and smile at him, even though tears suddenly burn in my eyes.
“But doesn’t an apartment limit you?” I ask croakingly. “I mean, if you want to travel?”
He shakes his head slowly. He absentmindedly runs his hand up and down my thigh – a touch that simultaneously
calms and stirs.
“My mum always said that real estate was a sensible investment,” he replies. »If I got my shares from Beaufort
sold, I have to somehow invest the part of the money that I don't spend on my travels. Besides, I don't plan on traveling all year round and when I'm in England I want to be able to be with you. And
since you're going to Oxford, I can't think of a better place.'
“You shouldn’t do this just for me, James,” I whisper, strangled.
»I don't want us to lose each other. This is a sign, Ruby. I'm serious about us and I want to stay together after the
graduation and staying with you.«
The small office suddenly feels much bigger. The whole world seems to expand as James looks into my eyes and whispers these meaningful words.
“I want to be with you too,” I reply just as quietly.
The next moment James leans forward and I meet him. He presses his mouth to mine, at least as moved
from this moment like me. Our kiss is so intense that at some point I no longer know which way is up and which is down. All I can do
is to hold on to James.
I have no idea when the last time we kissed like that was.
I run my hands over James' neck, to the collar of his shirt and stroke the skin underneath with my fingers.
feels hot under my touch, just as warm as I am feeling in this second. James runs his hands up my body
traveling to my waist. He traces a trail across my ribcage before reaching back and placing both hands flat on mine
back to hold me closer to him. I sigh as he kisses me deeper, gently biting my lip.
“Mr Beaufort?” the broker’s voice suddenly sounds.
I pull away from James so abruptly that I stumble and the office chair slides across the floor. James holds me tight and pulls me up with him at the same
moment. He supports me with one hand behind my back and closes the laptop with the other.
“We're in the office, Shaun,” he replies after straightening his ragged T-shirt.
A few seconds later the broker appears on the doorstep. He looks between us. I don't miss the corners of his mouth twitching as he asks, "Would
you like to see the garden?"
21
James
Back in Brightwell-cum-Sotwell, Ruby and I are having breakfast for dinner and I'm wondering why the hell I've never done this before. It seems like the best idea ever.
Afterwards we decide to take advantage of the nice weather and sit in the garden. Martha gave us the tip
Given that a few meters behind the hut there is a small seating area from which you have a clear view of the wide field landscape.
While Ruby goes ahead, I get two wool blankets from the hut, which we then both wrap ourselves in. I turn on a playlist that consists of
calm songs by Death Cab for Cutie, Iron & Wine, Keaton Henson and Vancouver Sleep Clinic, and together we watch the sky change color.
“Do you know where you want to travel first?” Ruby asks me at some point.
“Thailand,” I answer so quickly that it’s almost embarrassing. »That's what's on the list too. No matter how many times I look at travel reports about other destinations,
I always get stuck there. I've even picked out a route that I can take
all the insider tips I've found online so far.«
As soon as I even think about getting on a plane and finally seeing all the things that I have only known from magazines and blog articles, an energy enters my body that is
completely new to me. It feels like something has been awakened in me that can no longer be stopped, and even though these are only vague plans so far, it's exciting and better
than anything I've felt before when I think about my future have thought.
»I want to help you,« says Ruby. »I'm good at organizing. We can book your flights and accommodation together, and I
“I can make a list of to-dos to prepare for the trip and then we can work through them one step at a time.”
I look at her carefully. While Keaton Henson's calm voice comes from the speakers in the background, Ruby's gaze is on the setting sun. I don't think I'll ever forget this image of
her: the blush on her cheeks, the strands of hair blowing gently in the wind, her slightly parted lips. She is so beautiful that sometimes it takes my breath away.
“Are you really okay with this, Ruby?” I ask quietly.
She pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around them. Then she puts her head on her knees and looks at me from the side. I
I see sadness in her eyes, but also a happy sparkle.
"It will definitely be difficult," she begins slowly. "At the same time, I think it's great that you want to do this. I will definitely support you, just like you support me."
I nod, realizing that I was subconsciously holding my breath. I slowly let him escape.
I cannot predict whether my blog will find a readership or not. I may return empty-handed after a few months and have to admit that my attempt has failed. But if it works well –
what then? Can we
be separated from each other for a long time without automatically growing further apart?
I won't find out the answer to these questions for a few months. The only thing I can do now is hold my hand
to reach out and cup Ruby's cheek. I can lean forward and melt my lips with hers.
Our kiss is gentle. Full of uncertainty, but beautiful at the same time.
"Don't get me wrong: I'm guaranteed to cry like a castle dog at the airport," says Ruby as she breaks away from me briefly
solves.
"Are we the embarrassing couple who have sex in the middle of the airport?"
She laughs quietly, but it sounds sad. I lean my forehead against hers and close my eyes.
"You could come with me," I say. "The first few weeks of summer, I mean."
Ruby holds her breath. I open my eyes again.
“This is supposed to be your adventure, James,” she whispers.
"I can't think of anything better than spending the summer with you," I say. I actually wanted to wait with this suggestion. The trip here, the apartment, the blog... I don't want to
overwhelm Ruby. But at this moment I can't help it. I have to
just make her realize how much she means to me.
“Only if you want, of course,” I quickly add. »If you have planned the time for Oxford preparation,
I understand that, of course.«
She grins at that. »You really want me to come to Thailand with you?«
I nod. »We could go on a little tour. Or stay in the same place the whole time, whatever you want.”
“That sounds too good to be true,” she whispers, snuggling closer to me. “I would even take you to one of those street markets and try the food there.”
"And we have to go to Khao Sok National Park together. Oh, and to a lake view bungalow in Khao Lak."
“That sounds like a plan.”
Ruby turns to the side and presses a gentle kiss to my jaw. Then another. It draws a trail down the jaw.
I inhale sharply when I feel Ruby's tongue on my neck. A little later, she kisses a trail upwards and pauses a hand's breadth from my face. The green of her eyes has never seemed
so clear to me. "I love you, James," she whispers.
My heart skips a beat. I lean forward and brush my lips against hers. I hear her breath hitch. “I love you too, Ruby Bell.”
As I kiss her again, any thoughts of the future turn into fog that disappears more and more the closer Ruby and I get
come to each other.
I cup her face with both hands and pull her closer, closer and closer to me. I only notice incidentally how the ceiling is
her shoulders and slides to the floor. The next moment she gets up from her chair and climbs onto my lap, just like
earlier in the apartment.
This time I don't want to risk anyone interrupting us - I quickly tighten my grip on Ruby and stand up with her in my arms.
We continue kissing as I walk back to our cabin. Only when I reach the stairs do I separate my mouth from hers and look at the steps so that I don't miss them. Once inside, I let
Ruby slide down my body and carefully place her on it
floor. Then I close the sliding door. I lean my back against it.
“Are you cold?” I ask harshly. “Should I turn on the fireplace?”
Ruby continues to look at me with deep green eyes and finally shakes her head slowly. She takes a step towards me, then another. She puts her hands on my stomach and lets them wander up
over my chest, which makes me take a sharp breath.
fetch.
“I missed this,” Ruby whispers, briefly drumming her fingers on my chest. “Being so close to you.”
“I feel the same way,” I whisper back.
Even though our last time was almost half a year ago, there were nights and days when I couldn't think of anything else. I wanted to do exactly this with her. Brush the hair out of her face,
put my hand on her chin and
kiss as deeply as possible.
But the time was never right. Until now.
There is nothing that can hold us back, and in every touch I make there is a determination that Ruby feels in equal measure
What I feel for her would scare me if it didn't feel so incredibly good to have her with me.
have, in my life, in my arms.
Her hands are all over my body as mine wander under the hem of her top. I gently stroke her warm skin, and Ruby does the same. She feels her way under my shirt, runs her fingertips over
my stomach and further up over my hips. I get goose bumps all over my body, the blood is pumping powerfully through me. There's a rushing sound in my ears, and at the same time I notice
Ruby's quiet breathing, which quickens with every touch I touch.
With shaking hands, I push Ruby's top up. When Ruby has slowly pulled the shirt over my head, she wraps her arms around me and presses her lips to my chest. The lace of her skin-
colored bra scrapes lightly against my skin, making the bulge in my pants stand out even more.
"You smell like James," Ruby murmurs as she runs her mouth over my collarbone.
I let out a breathless laugh. "I hope that's good."
She nods, her hair tickling my chin. "Actually very good."
I stroke her back, run my hands over her shoulders and down her spine. I place my hand on the small notch of her tailbone and press Ruby closer against me, which elicits a quiet gasp from her.
The next moment she looks
up to me. Her gaze burns into mine. I raise my hand and slide it into her hair, then I kiss her again. I move my lips to hers, push my tongue into her mouth, enjoy the sigh that escapes her,
and let myself go completely. My body takes over. As if by itself, I guide Ruby towards the bed. When she hits the bed with the backs of her knees, I stop.
"Is that okay?" I whisper and brush the hair from her cheek.
Ruby nods. Her eyes shine feverishly. "Yes."
I lean towards her again and slowly move my mouth over her cheek, to the corner of her mouth, over her chin down to her neck.
I press a kiss to her throat and feel Ruby's hands move up my back. She grasps my shoulders and holds on as I pull her skin between my teeth and suck. I can hear their breath hitching at the
same time
she presses herself tighter against my body.
"That's nice," she whispers.
I take my time. After her neck, I turn to her shoulders and collarbone. I explore her cleavage with my lips
and cup her breasts. I knead them gently before running my hands down her sides and covering her stomach with kisses.
I carefully place my hands on her pants and look up at her.
"Okay?" I ask.
Ruby's eyes seem to glow as she nods.
I continue, first opening the top of her jeans, then the zipper, and then pulling them down over her hips. Ruby
is wearing black panties, the sight of which makes my heart start racing. When I have helped her out of her pants, I stand up again. Immediately her hands find my belt. She stands on her
tiptoes and kisses me, more and more wildly, while she blindly
tries to open the belt. After a few attempts she succeeds and my pants end up on the floor next to hers.
Ruby sinks back into the soft blankets and I follow her without breaking our kiss. I actually wanted to say so much to her, but any words in my head are drowned out by the pleasure that is
taking over my body at that moment. Ruby wraps one leg around my waist and pulls me even closer to her.
It's hard for me to remember why I wanted to take this slowly - my hands wandering over her body of their own accord. I touch her everywhere, want to feel and explore her everywhere. I push
myself against her, right between her legs, and the sound she makes almost makes me go crazy. She touches me with feverish hands and bites my bottom lip as I repeat the movement.
I reach under her shoulders and pull her up a little until she's half-sitting. I continue kissing her as I reach around her and bring my hands to the clasp of her bra. My fingers are now shaking
so hard that it takes me three tries to get the little buckle undone. Ruby smiles at me and slides the straps down her arms before pushing the bra away.
I just look at her for a moment. The sight of her bare skin, her disheveled hair and the lively look in her eyes
takes my breath away.
We move in unison. Ruby sinks back again and I lean over her and kiss her, both arms propped up on the mattress beside her. Her tongue slowly plays around mine as her hands wander down to
my boxers.
She hesitates and mumbles something against my lips. I pull away from her a little and look into her eyes.
“Okay?” she repeats my question with a smile. I let out a breathless laugh and nod.
Ruby starts to gently push the boxers down over my ass. I help her a little and then pull off her panties. Then I stretch to fish my pants off the floor and take a condom out of my wallet. Ruby
watches me put it on the bed next to her and then lean over her again.
Her promising look makes my heart beat even faster than it already does. She wraps her arms around my neck and
her mouth finds mine again. I could go on like this forever – lying naked with her in this bed and kissing her until all thoughts of
the past and future have disappeared and there is only the two of us. If it were up to me, this moment could last forever.
Ruby strokes my back further down to my ass. She arches her back and moans softly as my hard cock presses against her. I gradually lose control. Our next kiss is more feverish than the
one before, almost wild, and then I feel Ruby dig her nails into my back. Now I am the one who cannot suppress a sound. I hold my breath and
I then roll off her briefly to put on the condom.

I turn on my side so I can look at her face. Her eyes are clouded with lust, but the look in them leaves no doubt as to what Ruby wants.
And then there are no more questions. We move at the same time, I roll back onto her and she wraps her legs around me, around me
to pull towards yourself. I slide into her as if by myself. The feeling is so overwhelming that I have to close my eyes for a moment and stay where I am.
When I open my eyes again, I see that Ruby is doing exactly the same thing. I sink down onto my elbows and stroke my fingers
over her temple and down to her cheek. She opens her eyes again. And then I slowly start to move. I pull out of her and gently push in again, without ever taking my eyes off Ruby's beautiful
face. She moves with me, runs her hand into my hair and holds me tight.
I have never felt anything like that moment in my life. There is something unconditional about what we do
trust to do. I give everything of myself to Ruby and she gives herself back to me.
While sex for me used to be all about coming, this is so much more. With Ruby there is no goal to aim for
There is only her and me and the emotions that fill me from head to toe.
I don't need to tell her how much I love her. I show her this with my body, with every soft, deep kiss, with every thrust of my hips, with the way I hold her as her body trembles under mine and
I let myself fall completely.
22
Ruby
The time I spent with James in Brightwell-cum-Sotwell stayed with me every single day of the following week. And the week after that. And the week after that.
I can't forget how it felt to be so close to James, his hands on my body, his breath on my ear
There was nothing but the two of us that night, and I find myself thinking about it at the most inconvenient times and wishing I could go back in time to that exact moment.
When I sit at the breakfast table with my family, I think of our morning after, the delicious freshly baked bread and James' intimate smile as he handed me the jam.
When I'm trying to concentrate on studying for final exams, I think about the apartment James showed me and how we used to lie next to each other in bed at night, imagining how we were
going to decorate it, James should got the contract.
And when I try to fall asleep at night, I think of his voice, of James whispering hoarsely and breathlessly in my ear how much he loves me and that he has never been so happy in his life.
"Earth to Ruby," says Lin.
Caught, I snap my head around to her. "What? Sorry. I was thinking.”
Lin looks at me sideways. "I noticed. Understood?"
I feel warmth spreading in my cheeks and nod quickly. "Yes. What did you say?"
"I just said that your bag looks like it's about to burst at the seams." Lin points to the James dangling at my side. It's the first day I've worn it to school, and I've packed it so full that I'm worried the
strap might break at any moment.
I carefully adjust him on my shoulder. "I know, but James said this morning that she can handle it, so I'm hoping for the best."
“If James says so, it will be true.” Lin opens the library door and lets me enter first.
“Do you also feel like you’re going to go crazy at any moment because of all the stress?” I ask her as we walk past the shelves in the direction
of the group rooms. When I think about the final exams that are just around the corner and everything we have to do with them
As the event committee still has to plan for the last two events of the year, a panic is spreading inside me that even my favorite ASMR videos sometimes can't dispel. And the pressure is
growing as we approach the end of the third term.
"I've already lost my mind," Lin replies. "I also have no idea when I'm supposed to do crafts for Lydia before Saturday."
“I told you we could give gifts together.”
She shakes her head. "No, I don't think that's appropriate. You're basically her sister-in-law, and Lydia and I aren't that close friends. But thank you for the offer."
I let out a long breath. "If I can help with anything, let me know."
Lin just laughs. "You're just saying your head is going to explode and now you're offering to help me. That's typical Ruby, you know."
»A typical Ruby?« I raise my eyebrows.
“Well, you know. Taking on too much and then complaining afterwards,” says Lin, grinning.
I stick my tongue out at her.
“But we plan the game together, right?” I ask.
She nods. "Did we actually want to do the thing with the baby food jars or the cards or both?"
»Both, right? Then we would have variety. Mum has plenty of craft stuff at home too, so we don’t have to buy anything extra.”
“Have you gotten the pictures from Lydia’s aunt now? And did she tell you what the motto will be? Is there even one?"
asks Lin.
I shake my head. "It's better not to ask. According to Lydia, Ophelia is going a bit crazy. She buys everything she can get her hands on - as long as it's colorful. That will probably be the motto, Lydia
said."
“Colorful?” Lin asks, looking at me skeptically. "That's not a motto."
"I know," I reply. "But apparently Ophelia does."
“Okay, then we have to-” Lin trails off and stops in his tracks. I frown at her, then follow her gaze.
I hold my breath.
Cyril stands in front of the event committee's group room.
In contrast to the last few weeks, he no longer looks like he stumbled straight from a wild party to school. His school uniform is pressed, his tie is straight, and his hair is styled. The
dark circles under his eyes are no longer as severe, and he appears to have shaved. He almost looks like he used to.
“Lin?” I ask quietly when my friend still hasn’t freed herself from her paralysis.
She swallows hard and then arches her back. A blink of an eye later she continues talking as if nothing had happened.
"Then we have to work with it," she finishes. "I don't have anything planned after school - shall we make the cards today?"
I blink in perplexity, but then nod quickly. "Sure."
"Great." Only if you know Lin well do you notice how stiff her shoulders are and how forced her relaxedness seems at that moment. "Let's do it like that."
Arriving at the group room, Cyril pushes himself off the wall and stands upright. Lin stops in front of him, and the two of them
look at each other for a moment without saying a word.
I walk through the door and close it quietly behind me.
I don't get the chance to ask Lin why Cyril was waiting for her. Shortly after I entered the group room, Camille and Doug came in with Kieran in tow, followed less than two minutes later by
Jessalyn and James. After the meeting we will be there
The three of them drove to my house in Lin's car, and even though it was on my nerves, I didn't want to talk to her about it in James' presence.
Now James is at a meeting with a potential buyer of his Beaufort shares, and we are sitting on the floor with Ember
in my room and cut out romper-shaped cardboard cards that you can use to predict the genders of the babies as well as their measurements and weights at the baby shower. And if I
don't question Lin right now, I'll definitely burst with curiosity.
“What did Cyril want?” I say it so forcefully that Lin flinches. Ember looks up in surprise. Her gaze darts between us for a moment, but then it settles on Lin's stiff shoulders. Without a
word, she takes another piece of cardboard and begins to trace the outline of the bodysuit with a white pen using the template.
Lin stares at the onesie she just cut out. "He apologized."
I frown. »And?«
She shrugs her shoulders. “There’s really nothing more to tell.”
I put my pen aside. "How was it? Was he…kind?” Not a word I associate with Cyril, but I have a feeling there’s more to Lin’s silence.
"I don't know. It was... weird."
“To what extent?” I ask cautiously.
»He said we would see each other at the baby shower this weekend and he didn't want it to be awkward between us. He
Even asked if he should stay home." Lin sounds like this is the strangest suggestion Cyril has ever made.
»He apologized to me too. I think he's in the process of turning his life around a bit," I point out.
"James believes he truly and sincerely regrets the mistakes he made."
"It sounds to me like he's looking for an excuse not to go to this party," Ember says without looking up.
I blink, perplexed. »What?«
Ember shrugs indifferently. "Lin says his behavior seemed strange to her. He certainly wants to avoid seeing the girl he loves with the man she loves ."
“Do you think so?” I ask skeptically.
For Ember, this view of things is worryingly dark. Normally, she's the one who is optimistic and believes in the good in people, while I question everything ten times over.
I have suspected for a while that something is wrong with her. She is burying herself in work on her blog like never before
before, rarely leaves her room, and when I ask her if everything is okay, she immediately changes the subject to something more innocuous. While I've wondered for weeks who
she spends her time with, I'm now wondering why she doesn't spend time with this person anymore.
And why she still thinks she can't talk to me about it.
»I think Cyril has reached a low point from which he is now fighting his way back up. After everything you have told me about your time together, I think it is respectful of him to ask you
that,« I say reassuringly to Lin. »I am sure that was also
not easy for him. And anyway, do you want him not to come to the party?'
Lin shakes her head. "No, I think that would be childish. We're both going to Oxford and we're sure to run into each other there.
Then I can't tell him to piss off."
»You could do it. Just theoretically."
The corners of Lin's mouth twitch. She pushes her hair behind her ears and then reaches for the scissors again. »Besides, I'm
away.”
I look at her carefully. The last time we talked about Cyril, it was obvious that Lin was very upset about the whole thing. Now I'm not so sure.
"I'm sure Lydia would understand if you didn't come to the party," I suggest cautiously.
"No," says Lin immediately. "No. I want to be there. And who knows - maybe someone I like will come."
Your comment surprises me, but at the same time I feel relieved. From the sounds of it, Lin is really ready to move forward
and get involved in something new. I don't tell her that the other guests are just Ophelia's older friends.
I'm too happy for her and she looks far too optimistic for that.
»Ruby, can I draw a penis on the bodysuit?«
I'm briefly overwhelmed by the sudden change of topic, but then I have to suppress a grin. »If you really want to do this, don't force yourself. I just don’t know if Lydia will be happy about it.”
“Lydia will laugh about it,” Ember says, and then begins to draw a male genitalia on the cardboard onesie with one of my beloved glitter pens.
“You didn’t have to make it that big,” I comment dryly, but Ember just shrugs her shoulder and grins.
"Oh, that's great," says Lin, laughing. "I'll draw something funny on it too."
I take a deep breath and look at the templates we picked out on Pinterest beforehand. They are made of brown cardboard with a small hole at the top through which a string can be
threaded to hang the bodysuits. They have a gold border and fine lines as well as a curved calligraphy heading. Ember's artwork doesn't have much in common with that, but if it can make
her laugh again, I'm fine with that.
"Lydia and Graham will appreciate our creativity," she says and begins to decorate the penis.
“Exactly,” Lin agrees, drawing something on the bodysuit with a concentrated expression. After a while she picks him up and
looks at him critically. Then she turns him to us. She used one of the metallic pens to draw the Superman logo.
Ember cheered.
"I would have had to cut out a cape," she says contritely.
"Next time we do the bodysuit," I say - actually just as a joke. But then Ember and Lin look at each other and then at me with beaming faces. The next moment they both bend over
the cardboard and start making changes to the outline provided by the template.
After a while I can't help but join in, and eventually it's just a matter of who has the strangest ideas and can make the others laugh the most.
We add angel wings to one bodysuit, a hockey stick with a mini puck to another. Lin designs a romper bikini with a fruit pattern and paints devil's horns on another. My highlight, however, is a
failed horse head that Ember is particularly proud of. Every time I look at it, I can't stop myself and start laughing again.
At some point there is a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I call.
James sticks his head into the room.
“Hello, Loverboy,” Ember says in a deep voice, making Lin and I laugh even more.
James enters the room and raises an amused eyebrow. "I see you're having a great time."
"Take a look at the baby shower guessing cards and pick a favorite," says Lin, pointing to the cardboard cards that cover almost the entire floor.
“Is that…” James asks, but pauses and tilts his head.
“It’s supposed to be a unicorn,” Ember says, rolling her eyes. “Like it’s that hard to see.”
»Looks more like a pig. And only with a lot of imagination.«
“Hey!” Ember shouts indignantly, grabbing one of the pillows on my bed and throwing it at James. The pillow sails across the room and hits the floor just in front of James, making him grin wryly.
»I actually just wanted to let you know that I'm back. Oh, and Angus says dinner will be ready soon. So you can come down.”
“How was your meeting?” I ask.
"Very good," says James. "She seems to know the company inside out and she made a competent impression on me. Her interest in the shares seemed genuine and not as if she was only
interested in a piece of the pie."
“What does your gut feeling say?” I ask cautiously.
James has been looking for a suitable buyer for his shares for weeks, but Fiona Green was the first interested party he wanted to meet in person. Beaufort is his mum's life's work and I think
the pressure to find the right person is weighing on him more than he would like to admit.
"My gut feeling tells me not to hesitate too long," he replies.
"My grandma always says that your gut feeling is the most important indicator when you have to make an important decision," says Lin, and Ember nods in agreement.
“It has to click, otherwise she’s not the right person.”
"It's rare for things to just click with me," James replies. "I always need time to really assess people - beyond the first impression, I mean. But I'm meeting her again next Tuesday. Maybe it'll be
easier for me to decide after that."
“Sounds good,” Ember says. She picks up the cardboard unicorn. “And if you need advice, you can also turn to Ernie in confidence.”
James's mouth twitches. "All right."
“We’re done crafting, aren’t we?” Lin asks.
“Yes,” I answer, looking around at the floor. "We have more than enough."
She raises her arms above her head and stretches. Then she extends her legs and bends over, stretching her arms to her feet. I can hear a bone crack in her back and my eyes widen in shock.
"I think it's great that you're preparing all this for Lydia," James says, and when our eyes meet, his smile changes a little. It becomes more open. Warmer. A little more familiar. It's a smile that's
only for me, one full of secrets that only the two of us know. The longer he looks at me, the drier my throat becomes. And the warmer I feel.
I nervously start to push the cardboard bodysuits into a pile. I'm sitting in my bedroom with my little sister.
There's no way I can think about James' naked body right now.
"Should we go downstairs?" Ember asks suddenly. "Dad wrote." She holds up her phone and shows us the message. At the same moment I see another one arrive upstairs. But before I can see the
sender, Ember has turned the phone back towards herself.
Her expression darkens as she reads the message. She locks the cell phone and supports herself on the floor and then stands up.
While Lin and James walk to the door, I briefly hold my sister by the arm. "You can talk to me, Ember," I whisper. "Always.
You know that, right?«
She looks at my hand, then at my face. She seems to struggle with herself for a moment, but finally shakes her head. "Unfortunately not about this, sister."
Before I can say anything else, she follows Lin and James downstairs.
23
Lydia
"Guests!" I call to James, Ruby, Ember and Lin as soon as I open the door. I grab James' arm and pull him into the house, the others follow him.
"Now that's what I call a greeting," he replies, putting his arm around me. He hugs me briefly, then his gaze wanders down the hallway. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that
a...?"
"An oversized heart made of colorful roses? Yes." I turn to Ember, Lin and Ruby and hug them one after the other.
"You look beautiful, Lydia," says Ember.
I run both hands over the soft material of my green sheath dress, which is cut in such a way that it shows off my stomach, which I really don't think can get any
bigger now.
“I think so too,” Graham’s voice sounds close behind me.
I turn to him and smile at him. Then I grab his hand and slide my fingers between his.
I can't describe how good it feels to be able to do this now - no matter where we are or who sees us. We talked last night about whether it would be strange if my friends,
some of whom were his students, saw us like that, but then decided not to worry about it. Graham is my friend and the father of my children. I want to touch him
can, whenever and wherever I want.
When I turn back to the others and look at their faces, I see nothing but joy and openness. None of them seem uncomfortable with us holding hands.
“You all look great too,” I say, looking at their summer outfits.
I normally love warm weather, and summer has always been my favorite season, but with the belly and the
Painful water retention in my legs would actually be more like autumn for me. Or winter. Preferably winter in Antarctica.
Although a baby shower in Antarctica probably wouldn't be any fun.
"I hear the party is already in full swing," says Ruby with a smile. She is probably referring to the music that can be heard from the garden all the way here.
»Ophelia danced through the garden this morning. She wanted me to join in, but I was already exhausted after two minutes and
finished," I say. "I preferred to supervise the setting up of the buffet - there is a three-tiered cake and about a million cake pops."
»I love cake pops,« says Ember happily. She holds up a huge package wrapped in dotted wrapping paper and looks at me
questioningly. »Where do the presents go?«
“Follow me,” I say and am about to lead them down the hall to the back of the garden when James holds my arm back. I let go of Graham's hand and look at him, puzzled.
“We brought another surprise guest with us,” he says.
The first thing that comes to my mind is: I hope it's not Dad.
My second thought is that James knows me better than anyone and wouldn't do this to me.
He takes a step back to the door and pulls it open again. Someone enters the house. Someone I've never been with before in my life
I saw jeans and a shirt.
“Percy!” I shout loudly and leap forward towards my former chauffeur.
"It's good to see you well, Miss Beaufort," he replies formally. He hugs me back, and I realize how familiar his scent is. He smells of leather seats and an aftershave I've known since childhood. After
a moment, we pull apart.
"Your brother invited me," explains Percy. "I hope that's okay."
“Okay?” I ask incredulously, looking between him and James. “This is a great surprise!”
I wave him into the house. “Percy, this is my friend Graham. “Graham, this is Percy,” I introduce the two of them and they shake
their hands.
"Ophelia will fall over when she sees you," I say excitedly, pointing over my shoulder. "Shall we go outside?"
As the others nod, I link my fingers with Graham's again. We go through the hallway into the winter garden, its doors
are wide open to the outside. From there we enter the garden.
“Oh, wow,” I can hear Lin muttering behind me.
»Now you understand exactly what I mean by ›colorful‹,« I say over my shoulder and watch the others as they
look around.
In the middle of the grass there is a long garden table with a green runner spread out on it. Directly above there are countless pastel-colored helium balloons attached to
small, colorful lanterns so that they don't fly away. The buffet was set up on the side of the house.
Between small clay pots filled with flowers or cacti there are already the first drinks and a selection of different appetizers that made my mouth water. Lanterns, balloons and
streamers hang everywhere in the rest of the garden.
Ophelia spots us from the other end of the garden and immediately comes running towards us. She is wearing a floral summer dress and has her red hair pinned up loosely.
"Hello everyone!"
When she looks at Percy, her eyes widen. She seems to hesitate for a moment, but then she goes over to him and hugs him.
"What a surprise."
"Hello, Ophelia," Percy says quietly, adding something even more quietly that I don't understand because at that moment the doorbell rings again.
"Are you coming with us?" I ask Graham, and when he nods, I say to the others, "Go ahead and help yourselves to the buffet, we'll be right back."
Graham and I walk through the conservatory and the hallway back to the front door. Before I press the handle down, Graham grabs my wrist. I look up at him
questioningly, and before I know what's happening, he leans in and kisses me gently. How
I close my eyes and lean towards him, my body seems to want to merge with his. After
After a brief moment he breaks away from me and looks into my eyes, a slight smile on his lips.
“What was that for?” I ask hoarsely.
He shakes his head. »Just like that.«
Although these words are so simple, my heart skips a beat. In the past, we were not able to say anything simply
to do so.
But now the world is our oyster.
I stand on tiptoe to kiss him again when the doorbell rings through the house again. Graham laughs quietly as I
I find myself squinting and ultimately turning towards the door.
When I open it, all I see is a huge present that, upon closer inspection, looks suspiciously like a teddy bear. There is a bow tied around it that is certainly three times the
circumference of my head. It moves a little to the left and Alistair's face appears next to it. He grins broadly at me. "I have a delivery for Lydia Beaufort."
Kesh, standing next to Alistair, laughs quietly. I look down and see he's holding Alistair's hand. My stomach lurches in surprise. The question must be written on my face, but he just smiles and
takes a step over the doorstep. Then he hugs me tightly.
"Thank you for the invitation, Lydia," he says in a dark voice.
“With pleasure,” I reply and smile at him.
He breaks away from me to shake Graham's hand. Alistair, meanwhile, tries to fit the huge gift through the door, and when he finally manages to do so, he lets it sink to
the floor and rubs his forehead with the back of his hand as if he had just
sweaty exercise completed during training. Then he hugs me, even tighter than Kesh.
He extends his hand to Graham. "Hi, Mr. Sutton."
“Graham, please,” Graham says immediately.
Alistair nods. “Sure.” He looks around Ophelia’s hallway curiously. »I'm so excited to see what happens today. I've never been to a baby shower. Will presents be
opened straight away or…?”
“That would be nice,” I say with a snort.
“Ophelia timed everything exactly,” explains Graham with a smile. »The presents won't be until after dinner. If I have my way, we could get started right away. That
looks very interesting,” he says, nodding at Alistair’s gift. I'm about to pull it towards me to take a closer look when Alistair quickly picks it up again.
“That’s out of the question,” I hear him say muffled.
"I think Wren and Cy are just arriving," Kesh says, looking over his shoulder to see a rickety car pulling into the property.
“Why didn’t you all go together?” I ask, surprised.
»Wren said it was good for his car to be heated up properly. However, the four of us would never have fit in there,” says Keshav.
“Definitely not with that,” says Graham, pointing to the gift.
»Can it be that I smell cake? I think I smell cake,” Alistair says suddenly, trying to look around the stuffed animal at me.
I have to suppress a laugh. "Do you want to go ahead? You still know the way, right?"
Alistair murmurs in agreement. He and Kesh walk down the hall, and my heart skips a beat when I see Kesh put his hand on Alistair's lower back and give him a quick
stroke. I knew that the two were good friends, but I knew that they could become a couple one day - and that's the effect this image has on me. Graham, who also
watches the two of them go and then smiles at me. –, I didn't expect that. I look up to
"We heard there was a party going on here?" Wren's voice rings out, and I turn around just in time to see him and Cyril down the stairs.
coming up to the front door. Like Kesh and Alistair, they are wearing shirts, and I secretly wonder if they have all colluded.
My heart is pounding as I look at Cyril. It's always strange to see each other again for the first time after a big argument. We haven't had any contact since our
phone call and I don't know how to behave towards him.
“You heard me right,” I answer a little late and return Wren’s hug as he briefly but firmly pulls me into his arms.
“Wow,” says Wren. He pushes his sunglasses into his hair and looks at my stomach. "I didn't feel like we hadn't seen each other for so long."
“I hid it well,” I say.
“I see that,” he says. Then he looks past me down the hallway. “Are the others all here yet?”
»Yes, in the garden.«
He nods and walks past us down the hallway.
Then Cyril, Graham and I are alone. An awkward silence spreads between us.
"Hello," Cyril finally says, his voice hoarse. Like Wren, he's wearing sunglasses so I can't see his eyes.
"Hi," I say. "Nice that you came."
Cyril swallows hard and then forces a smile. »Thank you for the invitation.« Finally he takes his sunglasses off his
face, closes it and puts it in the pocket of his shirt.
Cyril and Graham stand opposite each other in silence, both with tense shoulders and clenched teeth. The mood is
so charged that I inevitably hold my breath.
Finally, Cyril clears his throat. "Mr. Sutton, it..."
Silence again.
Beside me, I hear Graham exhale quietly. “You can call me Graham, Cyril,” he says.
A second passes, then another. Finally Cyril nods.
“Agreed,” he says. "Graham."
I step forward to greet Cyril with a hug like the others. He seems so taken aback that he doesn't do anything for a second. Only after a few heartbeats does
he lift an arm and wrap it around my back - carefully and tentatively, as if he's afraid he'll scare me off if he squeezes too hard. I notice how familiar it feels.
In this moment he is just the boy I have known all my life and who has always been there for me when I needed him.
"Is everything okay?" he asks, moving away from me a little. He looks at me closely, and in his eyes is the uncertainty and conflict that I also feel.
"Not yet," I say honestly. Something dark flickers in Cyril's eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, probably that he can leave again if I want him to, but I
beat him to it. "But it will be okay. I'm sure."
With these words, I close the door behind him and take him and Graham to the others in the garden.
24
Human
We've been here less than an hour, and I can already say with absolute certainty that I love Ophelia Beaufort. And not just because the baby shower decorations are so colorful that there's no
reason to be in a bad mood, but above all because Lydia's aunt is totally cool.
She is one of those hosts who makes you feel at home automatically, even if you have never been there before. Within the first fifteen minutes, she had handed me a non-alcoholic cocktail and
was talking to Ruby and me about our ambitions. She even spoke to me about my blog and told me that she had subscribed to it and
followed each of my posts carefully. After that I couldn't help but think she was great.
However, my euphoria was put a damper when Wren entered the garden. While the others greeted him loudly, I suddenly turned to Lin and engaged her in a conversation about her mom's
gallery. I couldn't look at him.
I knew that today would not be easy. Losing Wren as a friend hurts, and even though I resolved not to let it show, the stabbing pain in my chest was so intense at first that for a moment I didn't
know how to deal with it and had to ask Lin twice to repeat what she said.
After that, I tried to ignore Wren's presence and not cringe every time he laughed.
I am glad when Ophelia comes back to me, takes my hand and leads me to a large screen further back in the garden
pulls.
"Oh, how cute," I say when I see the picture painted on it: two little turtles being pulled towards the sky with a huge bouquet of balloons. "Did you draw that?"
Ophelia nods and looks so proud that I have to smile. "I found the template on Pinterest."
I eye the mixing palette that is on a wooden table next to the canvas and is filled with many colors. »What do I have to do?«
"This is finger paint," explains Ophelia. "You paint the balloons and the turtles' shells with your thumbprint. Look, like this."
With Ophelia's instructions, I dip my thumb first into the green paint, then into the yellow paint, and then press it onto the rough canvas. It
It's so sunny that the light reflects off the white surface and my eyes start to water, but judging by Ophelia's enthusiastic sounds, I'm doing a good job anyway.
"Very nice, Ember! You definitely have a talent for painting," says Ophelia, beaming at me. I wonder how she can tell from a mere thumbprint, but I'm happy nonetheless.
“Do you already have one?” I ask, looking at the few balloons in the picture that are already colorful.
"Yes, mine is this one," she replies.
"Yours is glittery," I say. "Why is yours glittery? I didn't see any glitter anywhere."
"I see you have even more taste." Ophelia grins broadly. "Lydia said not to put it on so thick, so I took the glitter away. But if you want, I can go and get it."
I shake my head. "No, no, it's okay. That's a really nice idea with the picture, by the way."
"I think I've done nothing else for the last four weeks than look for inspiration for baby showers on the Internet. At some point I had to put together a ranking, otherwise the garden would have burst
at the seams. And as you can see..." She makes a sweeping gesture with one arm. "Hey, Percy, you have to get to the screen too!" she suddenly calls out.
The driver, who has just picked up a glass of grapefruit cocktail a few meters away, stiffens. “I – um. Do you really think so?”
Ophelia brushes off his objections with a wave of her hand.
Percy looks longingly at the table again, but finally comes to us and the screen with a sigh.
I once heard Mum gushing about Percy and I have to say that I can understand the look of ecstasy on her face back then. He seems very likeable with his deep voice and friendly
smile. Plus I think it's funny how
He speaks formally with Ophelia, Lydia and James, even though we are all in a sea of colorful balloons.
“Here, take yellow,” Ophelia tells him.
»Why yellow?«
"Because it's a happy color and this is supposed to be a happy picture."
In the way the two of them treat each other - the way Ophelia holds out the colors and Percy's smile shows some of his politeness
loses and becomes warmer –, you realize how long they must have known each other.
Percy takes the yellow paint and dips his thumb into it, then presses it onto the canvas. Compared to mine, his has a
much larger diameter.
"I can't believe you made Percy paint," James's voice suddenly sounds close to me.
I turn to him. »He's doing well, don't you think -«
The words get stuck in my throat and my whole body tenses.
Wren is standing next to James, his eyes fixed on me. He looks as if he is about to open his mouth and
address. I'm not prepared for that. When Wren's lips part, I act on instinct: I mumble an apology, turn around, and walk toward the house.
I cross the winter garden, walk through the narrow hallway and enter the guest bathroom. After closing the door behind me
I breathe in and out for a few seconds in a desperate attempt to calm my heart rate down somewhat.
Then I stand at the sink, let cold water run over my hands and wrists and dab some of it on my neck.
I stare thoughtfully at the yellowish brown tiles, on which small dogs are depicted here and there. Ophelia has a very strange, but at the same time endearing taste that touches something
inside me. Maybe it is the grass and pollen outside,
Maybe it's the dog tiles, or maybe - with a very small percentage of probability - it's Wren, but suddenly tears burn in my eyes.
I push her back with all my strength and try to collect myself. Today should be a beautiful day. I refuse to let Wren's
To let presence get you down like that. I resolutely check that my mascara is still in place, wash my hands again and then open the door.
I turn right – and almost hit someone.
"There you are," says Wren.
All I can do is stare at him. He greets me as if I were the companion he was looking for and finally found. As if we were here together.
Such fucking nonsense.
I move a long way away from him. "Would you like something?" I ask.
"I'd like to talk to you if you have time," he replies.
I can't interpret his look, although I thought I had the hang of it by now. But apparently I imagined that too.
"I don't know," I say uncertainly and look around to see if there is anyone nearby who could hear us. I have no idea how
I should explain it to Ruby when she finds me with Wren in a dark hallway. How I should explain to her that Wren is the reason
is that I was home so rarely and skipped school. That I wanted to spend time with him because he awakened something in me that I had never felt before.
I don't think she would understand me. I'm not even sure if I understand myself.
»We really need to talk urgently. Things can’t go on the way they are now.”
“There is absolutely nothing that can go on,” I reply flatly.
Wren flinches almost imperceptibly. His expression softens, almost vulnerable.
“Ember,” he finally says harshly. "I have to tell you something."
All the negative thoughts that haunted me after our meeting in front of my school are now coming back with full force
back.
You are not good enough. You have landed back in the box that everyone puts you in when they get to know you.
"If you told me lies before, I'm not sure I want to hear the truth now." I sound snappy and
closed and not at all like myself. I wonder how he does it. How does he manage to evoke these thoughts in me when I work so hard to only allow positivity into my life? I don't want to lose this fight.
That simply does not work.
Wren takes a step towards me. There is now only half a meter between us. “I lied when I said we were friends, Ember.”
A nasty ache runs through my stomach.
I knew it.
I knew it the first time he spoke to me. I could kick myself for being so curious and desperate to meet new people.
A storm is growing inside me that wants to sweep me away, but I fight against it with all my might.
"You know what? I really don't have to put up with this," I say through clenched teeth and try to push past him.
"If you would please let me through?"
"Ember," Wren says urgently.
I avoid looking at his face and instead stare at his chest.
“You misunderstood me,” he says quietly, but still with that urgency in his voice. “I don’t want to just be your friend, Ember. I want more."
Suddenly the thoughts in my head fall silent.
I look at Wren's face, but I can't bring myself to say a single word.
Wren takes a ragged breath and clears her throat. »When we first met, I just wanted to have fun. But then I have you
got to know you properly and realized what a great person you are. I started to miss you, although we actually
had constant contact. I looked forward to each of our meetings. You were there for me the whole time, even though I hardly meant anything to you
"I was able to give back, and little by little I realized something." His voice becomes rougher the longer he speaks, and finally he has to clear his throat again to be able to continue. »I like you,
Ember. Even more than that. I think I'm falling head over heels for you."
There is nothing but loud noise in my ears as Wren's words repeat over and over in my head. I
try to understand their meaning, try to understand what is happening here - but I can't.
I just stand there and stare at him.
"I realize that you don't want anything from me in this regard. And I also realize..."
This snaps me out of my trance. “Who says that?” I interrupt him.
He opens his mouth and closes it again. "Who says what?"
"That I don't want anything from you in that regard. Who says that?" I ask.
"You. On our first evening at Maxton Hall. You were pretty clear when you told me what you thought of me. And that
I respect that.”
"You mean that night when I had known you for about two seconds and you wanted to kiss me even though you were drunk?" I reply incredulously.
Wren swallows hard. "Yes."
»I didn't know you at all! I'm not a girl who trusts easily, let alone one who immediately
Rummnucht.«
At first Wren doesn't say anything anymore. After a few seconds he lets out a monotone "Oh."
I feel my heart pounding violently against my chest. This moment between us is so intense that it almost makes me dizzy.
“Was that the reason you didn’t want me at your party?” I ask quietly.
Wren raises her hand and rubs the back of her neck. "I was afraid. Of my friends' reactions when they come to my house for the first time. Before Ruby and James' reaction when they find out
we've met. And somehow also before my own feelings. It all came together in that moment.«
“I thought you didn't want to show yourself to me in front of your friends, and that hurt,” I say, and Wren immediately shakes her head.
"It's not that. It's definitely not that, Ember. It was... the timing. I was just overwhelmed."
"If I had known that, I wouldn't have reacted so harshly."
“I should have told you what was going on with me,” he replies. “I was just panicking about acting abnormal around you and scaring you away... I don't know. I definitely don't want to mess
this up with us. You’re too important to me for that.”
“I care about you too, Wren. That's the only reason I was offended," I say in a thick voice.
"Yes?", freight is.
I nod.
Slowly the Wren smile works its way back onto his face, that effortless, lazy smile that I noticed the first time we met. It seems much more familiar to me now than it did back then.
And after not seeing it for so long, at this very second it awakens a tingling sensation in my body that runs through me from head to toe.
"What do we do now, Supergirl?" he asks quietly.
His posture is relaxed, but the look in his brown eyes is full of uncertainty.
"I don't know," I mutter, meaning every word. I don't know how to handle everything he just told me.
My heart is pounding excitedly and the butterflies in my stomach are making me nervous.
"You have to tell me what you want, Ember," he whispers. "Whether we should continue to be friends. Whether we can be more. Whether you still want me to get out of the way so you can go
back to the others in the garden."
Whether we can be more.
Although I don't know exactly what that means - what it could mean for me –, but I think that's exactly what I want.
"You don't have to get out of the way, Wren," I say firmly.
He breathes a sigh of relief. »No?«
I shake my head slowly. "No."
Again a smile spreads across his lips. This time I return it hesitantly.
"Can I hug you, Ember?" he asks quietly.
Instead of answering, I take a cautious step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. I feel his hands on my back, first very lightly, then harder. I close my eyes and try not to think for a change,
but to enjoy the moment.
Just a few hours ago, I wanted to completely block Wren from my thoughts. Now he's holding me in my arms, and I can say with great certainty that this is one of the most beautiful things that
has happened to me in quite some time.
I haven't lost him, I think as he strokes my shoulder blade. I can feel his rapid heartbeat against my body, which seems to be gradually calming down again - just like my own.
As if we just needed each other to calm down again.
“Wren,” a stunned voice suddenly sounds. “Can you tell me what the hell you’re doing with my sister?”
25
Ruby
I can't believe what's happening right now before my eyes.
In the middle of the hallway of Ophelia's house, Ember and Wren stand tightly embraced.
They look familiar with each other - and clearly not like they're holding each other for the first time.
At my words they jump apart and look at me, caught. The guilt in Ember's look sets alarm bells ringing in my head. Little by little, the missing pieces of the puzzle of the last few weeks, in
which Ember has behaved so strangely and kept such a secret about who she spends her free time with, are starting to come together.
The fact that she wasn't at school, lied to her friends and me, was always on her cell phone and didn't want to talk to me even though we told each other everything else.
This must be the reason for all this.
Wren must be the reason for this.
"I can't believe it," I say. "It's because of him that you've been acting so weird lately?"
Ember raises her chin defiantly. "That does not concern you."
I grit my teeth so hard they grind. Ember is right, I know she is. She doesn't have to answer to me, but this is Wren, damn it!
"I don't really care what you do with who, as long as it's a good person."
"Stop judging other people all the time, Ruby!" she retorts angrily.
“Ember…” Wren says placatingly, but she brushes off his objection with a wild wave of her hand.
»I'm so tired of you constantly trying to mother me. This is getting totally unbearable.”
I cringe at her harsh words. »I don't want to mother you. I just want to …"
»… the best for me? While my friends' sisters always go out partying with them, you lecture me about who
who I can and can't meet. You even tell me who I can spend time with at the Maxton Hall parties and provide me with a babysitter. Instead of enjoying the time we have together before you move
away, you treat me completely
from above."
I feel all the blood draining from my face. Ember has never spoken to me like this before. Something is bubbling up inside me, violent and unstoppable. »I'm sorry that I met the guy who
secretly filled me up with alcohol at my first school party and then
took advantage of my drunken state to make out with me, is not good enough for my sister!«
Ember's eyes widen. She looks between Wren and me. Then she shakes her head.
“You didn’t do that,” she says to Wren, suddenly sounding vulnerable.
Wren shakes his head and nods at the same time. Disarmed, he raises his hands. »That was years ago. Back then … I was already
sorry.”
Ember gasps. "I don't believe it!"
“I was a stupid idiot, okay? I would never do something like that again.”
She snorts disdainfully. "Is clear. And why did you bottle up my sister, if I may ask? For fun? To do to her what you tried to do to me?”
“What did he try to do with you?” I ask, taking a threatening step forward. I'm willing to push Wren out of the way if I have to - even more than that.
»I will always apologize to you, Ruby. I am truly sorry for what happened back then, but I thought we had put that behind us. And, Ember,« he looks intently at my sister. »Everything I have ever
said to you, I
meant from the heart. I hope you know that.«
Ember looks at him for what feels like a minute, then shakes her head. "I don't know anything right now, Wren."
While I wonder what Wren could have told my sister, Ember turns and runs down the hall back to
outside without giving me or Wren another glance. My stomach suddenly feels queasy and I wonder if I...
I just made a bad mistake.
“You hurt her,” Wren says suddenly. I snap my head around and glare at him.
»Believe me, you managed this on your own. What the hell did you do to her?”
"I didn't do anything to her. Ember and I have worked it out - and it's exactly as she said. It's really none of your business. Stop trying to gain control over something that has nothing to do with
you."
"I want to protect her!" I reply loudly. "If you had someone you cared about as much as I care about her, you would know how that feels."
Wren opens his mouth to respond, but someone else beats him to it.
»Guys!« I turn around and see Alistair standing in the hallway. His face is pale, his curls sticking out in all directions. »I know that
you are busy trying to get at each other's throats. But we have a bigger problem right now
receive."
“What’s wrong?” Wren asks, stealing the words from my mouth.
Alistair swallows hard. "Mortimer Beaufort just crashed Lydia's party."
James
Seeing Dad here gives me a chill. My gaze automatically goes to Lydia, who is sitting at the table with Lin and is laughing so hard at the cards the girls have made. I want to prevent her from
discovering Dad at all costs. She should have fond memories of this day.
Unfortunately, he came straight into the garden without ringing the doorbell. The moment Lydia looks at him, my heart sinks. She suddenly stops laughing and within a few seconds all the color
drains from her face.
But just as I'm about to take a step forward and in their direction, I see Graham walking across the lawn toward Dad. He comes to a stop right in front of him. “You have no business here,” he says,
his tone hard.
Dad raises a mocking eyebrow. “And you have nothing to say to me at all,” he replies coolly.
»This is our party. And as far as I can remember, you're not invited. “You won’t ruin this day for Lydia,” Sutton says firmly. He looks like he's going to grab my father at any second and drag him out of
the yard with his own hands.
A tingling sensation in the back of my neck makes me turn to Lydia. She stares at Dad and Graham with wide eyes, then her gaze finds mine.
Do something, she tells me without words. Please.
Without thinking, I put down the plate I just filled at the buffet and go to my father.
“What do you want here?” I ask.
Dad calmly looks over the balloons, the peonies on the long garden table, the canvas with fingerprints and finally the buffet. A mocking smile appears on his face, causing my pulse to skyrocket.
"I'm here to talk to you," he says, so quietly that only the two of us can hear. The garden has become eerily quiet in the last few minutes. It's like everyone is holding their breath and waiting to see
what happens next. “You don’t respond to my emails.”
“What makes you think I want to talk to you?” I ask coolly.
Something flashes in his icy eyes that I know all too well. It is the unbridled anger that made him raise his hand against me every time. I've made up my mind never to hit anyone again - but that doesn't
mean I don't know how to defend myself if they try.
"Come with me. Graham is right. You won't ruin Lydia's day," I say, nodding toward the house. I turn and walk ahead without checking to see if he's following me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ophelia
stand up and walk toward us.
“Mortimer,” she says as we are about to enter the winter garden door. “Did you have to come here today of all days?”
Dad doesn't even look at her. "This is a matter between me and my son," he says and walks past her into the house. "Stay out of it."
"You made it my business when you brought your daughter to me," Ophelia replies. Her tone is ice cold. I have never heard her speak like that before.
I can see Dad's shoulders tense. He slowly turns to Ophelia.
Just then, Ruby, Wren and Alistair enter the conservatory. They come to an abrupt stop, their expressions worried as they see how tense the situation is.
“It’s okay, Ophelia,” I say.
I have to do everything I can to get Dad out of here as quickly as possible so that he doesn't get too close to Lydia or Ruby. I wouldn't forgive myself for that.
"It's best if we go to the dining room," I say.
Dad follows me as I leave the room. Once in the dining room, I close the door behind us and then slowly turn to him. I've been so open about my feelings in the last few weeks that he must be able to
read every emotion on my face at this moment.
“What could be so important that you have to show up at Lydia’s baby shower?” I ask, trying to keep my voice somewhat calm.
»I didn't know that a student's pregnancy was a cause for celebration these days. Besides, I’m not informed about Lydia’s leisure activities.”
"As if you would have come if Lydia had invited you."
Dad's mask fits perfectly, unlike mine, and his gaze is impenetrable. I realize that I won't get an answer to my jibe - that's always the case with Dad when he thinks something is beneath him.
“What do you want, Dad?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.
He straightens his shoulders. Although it is Saturday and the sun is much warmer than usual for a day in May, he is wearing a black suit, complete with shirt, tie and jacket. He is - as always
- the perfect businessman.
“I dismissed your departure from the company as childish rebellion,” he begins. "But now more than five weeks have passed."
“So?” I say simply.
The corners of Dad's mouth move ever so slightly. "Now I'm wondering when you'll finally realize that you can never sell your Beaufort shares ."
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "According to the contract, I just have to find a suitable partner and introduce him to the group of shareholders."
»Do you really think you can get a majority on the board to agree to the sale to Fiona Green?«
My heart drops. I feel my mouth suddenly go dry as my father looks at me intently and a knowing look comes into his eyes.
Whatever the reason, Dad knows about my conversations with Fiona. He knows about my specific plans. He knows that Fiona's ideas for the company are in line with Mum's - and at that moment I feel
a terrible sense of foreboding.
I swallow hard. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"I think you know what I'm trying to tell you."
I look at him in shock. At his words, my hope of soon being able to completely break away from Beaufort , as well as the knowledge that I am leaving my mum's inheritance in good hands, vanishes
into thin air. I can only let out a bitter laugh. "I should have known."
"You should have realized what you were getting yourself into."
Shaking my head, I look Dad straight in the eyes. "You really are incredible."
His jaw clenches. "I'm trying to save our family legacy while you're doing everything you can to destroy it."
'It's not our family's heritage , it's Mum's family heritage. And Ophelias,” I manage. »And I don't destroy anything. I can't do anything with this company. Why don’t you
understand?”
"You haven't even tried." He laughs humorlessly. "On the contrary, the moment things got serious, you ran away."
"You almost ruined my friend's future. You offered the man Lydia loves money to get out of her life. If you really think I can look you in the face after that without
feeling sick, then..." I shake my head. "I don't know what else to say to you."
Dad looks at me silently, his face completely motionless.
One second, two, three – then I can’t stand the silence any longer.
"Why are you here?" I ask again.
“To tell you that I expect you at our board meeting on Monday at 3 p.m..” He adjusts his cufflinks.
“Did you just hear a word of what I said to you?”
"And."
»What if I don't come? Are you going to force me to work with you at Beaufort ?”
It's actually a rhetorical question - but my father doesn't bat an eyelid.
I stare at him. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
"I want to end this feud between us, son," he begins. "I want us to be together again. Together. Just like Cordelia and I have planned since you were born."
Hearing Mum's name come out of his mouth makes my stomach do an uncomfortable lurch. "I can't believe you actually think things could ever be okay between us."
"James," my father says, but I just shake my head.
“I'm not coming back to Beaufort , Dad. Never."
For a moment the room is dead quiet and we just look at each other, Dad's eyes dark, mine determined.
Then Dad reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out his cell phone. "You leave me no choice."
A sinking feeling spreads in my stomach. "What do you mean?" I ask.
But he ignores me. Instead, he starts typing something into his phone.
"What are you doing?" I ask. I hate how scratchy my voice sounds right now.
My father looks at me. Even though we're on the same level, he makes me feel like he's looking down on me, always on the verge of shaking his head in
disappointment.
»I tried it on good terms. But you're so obsessed with throwing away your future for no reason that I have no choice but to nudge you in the right direction."
The threat that resonates in these words is unmistakable. But I will not allow myself to be intimidated by him. Not anymore.
I take a deep breath. »You don't need to push me in the right direction, I'll find the way all by myself. And if you just came here to threaten me instead of congratulating
your daughter on her pregnancy and celebrating it with her friends, you can disappear again and leave us alone forever," I say as calmly as possible .
Dad smiles. »Did you know that Helen Bell takes goods home from the small bakery where she works almost every day?
Even though that’s actually forbidden?”
The blood freezes in my veins.
»Here, half a cake, there, a bag of rolls...«
“Otherwise it would all be thrown away,” I say quietly. "The way you say it makes it sound like she's stealing."
Dad shrugs his shoulders. "I wonder if your new boss will see it that way? Do you really want to risk it?"
I don't dare move even a millimeter.
"And the hygiene standards in the restaurant where Angus Bell works seem to be really abysmal. I know several people who, when asked, confirm that they got food poisoning there. If word gets
around..." He shrugs. "Not nice."
The room suddenly feels incredibly stuffy. I can no longer breathe properly.
“What do the Bells do when they suddenly have no income?”
»Dad …«
He clicks his tongue. "And then there's your girlfriend. Ruby." There's so much disdain in his voice when he says her name that I want to jump on him. But the shock
of his words keeps me in place, as if I were frozen.
"Do you really think she has a chance at Oxford? Not if her scholarship disappears at the last minute, do you?"
Everything around me starts to spin.
“Then what’s going to save her, huh? Certainly not her letter of recommendation, which was written by a teacher who was expelled from school six months later because
he slept with a student.
“You wouldn’t do that,” I croak.
"When have I ever made empty threats?" he replies.
My father is crazy, it occurs to me for the first time. He's completely crazy.
"What did the Bells do to you?" I ask hoarsely.
Dad starts pacing around the dining room, his hands folded behind his back. When he reaches the window, he stops and looks out into the garden.
"I've told you before that I will do everything I can to preserve Beaufort 's reputation ."
"You would destroy an entire family."
He stays at the window for a while until he finally turns back to me and looks at me carefully. “It’s in your hands, James.”
My head goes on a merry-go-round. I feel like I'm trapped in one of those rides where you stand on the edge and can't move a bit when it starts spinning at breakneck
speed and rising in height.
I know my father. I know that he meant every word he just said.
Emptiness spreads within me.
The happiness I have felt over the last few weeks, the hope I have allowed myself to feel for the first time in my life – everything is gradually being pushed aside
until there is nothing left.
Nothing but the knowledge that I lost.
I feel the mask slip back onto my face like it never left. Then I ask tonelessly:
"What should I do?"

26
Ruby
After Mortimer Beaufort leaves, the mood is devastated.
James comes back outside, white as a sheet and with a look in his eyes that makes me panic. But when we ask him what happened, he just waves it off, takes the plate
he had previously placed at the buffet and begins to eat.
The party soon breaks up after that. I'm so busy worrying about James that I don't even flinch when Ember gets in the car with Wren. At least he has the decency to
hesitate and give me an uncertain look, but I just shake my head and raise my shoulders at the same time.
This way I at least have the opportunity to talk calmly with James, whose behavior is making me more nervous by the minute.
After we have driven back towards Gormsey in silence for a good half hour, I slide across the back seat to James and grab his hand.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
James, who has been looking out the window, turns his head to me. The next moment he takes my face in both hands and kisses me.
He removes his lips from mine, but continues to hold my face. When I open my eyes I can see that he still has his closed.
»James …«
His hands are shaking.
"I'm so sorry," he says harshly. "I... I'm so sorry."
“What?” I ask urgently, grabbing his wrists. In this moment I want to hold him as close to me as possible. "James, you're scaring me."
James' breathing is unsteady. It's killing me what the encounter with his father has done to him.
“What happened?” I whisper, stroking his wrists with my thumbs.
James allows the touch for a few seconds, then leans back in his seat. He rubs his face with both hands.
"Dad won..." He seems to be searching for the right words. "Dad won."
The blurry lights of the street lamps rush past us evenly, but it feels as if time stands still.
»Was?«
"I'll go back to Beaufort on Monday ." He clears his throat. “And back home tonight.”
"No," I burst out. "No, James." I reach for his hand, but he pulls it away. My heart sinks. "No matter what he said," I say urgently. "We'll find a way."
»There is too much at stake. The risk is too high."
I shake my head.
»Ruby …«
"No! No matter what he threatened you with, it's not worth risking your future for."
He looks at me for a long time without saying anything. Then he sighs. "Yes. Yes, that's it."
“What is he blackmailing you with?” I ask, barely audibly.
James shakes his head, but I don't let him get away with it. "We swore we wouldn't have any more secrets."
»Ruby …«
"You promised!"
"He will destroy your family," he finally says. "Not just Oxford, but everything that is important to you."
I feel like I can't breathe anymore.
“You have done so much for me,” he continues. "I can't allow this."
“We…” My voice trails off and I have to clear my throat. "We find a way. He won’t get away with it.”
»Ruby, listen to me...«
»I'm not thinking about it at all! I won't let you throw your plans aside, James. Our plans.”
"It's not your decision," James replies, almost unbearably softly. He raises his hand and strokes my cheek with his knuckle.
I back away from him, my brow furrowed.
"How can you let him do this to you over and over again?" I ask, stunned.
James presses his lips together tightly.
"Don't you dare say nothing to me again," I hiss. "We're a team. You can't just... you can't just leave."
He lets out an audible breath. »The time with you - the time with your family - was the best I could have ever wished for. That was the only thing that kept me on my
feet. “You have to believe me,” he insists. “But I… I have no choice.”
“You always have a choice!” I say forcefully. "I can't let you sacrifice your future for mine."
The sad smile that appears on his face at that moment takes my breath away. At that moment I know that I have no chance of convincing him.
He has made up his mind.
My eyes start to burn and I have to squint because my vision is blurring. “What did he threaten you with?” I whisper.
“I hope,” he begins in a scratchy voice. "I hope you accept my decision and don't hate me for it."
I shake my head. His words hit me right in the heart. I want to scream or break something – just to
to get rid of this feeling of powerlessness that spreads throughout my body. But instead I sit still and watch
James an.
A tear escapes from the corner of my eye and runs down my cheek. James catches it with his thumb. "I could ... you
never hate, James.«
He pulls me to his side and buries his face in my hair.
When we arrive in Gormsey an hour and a half later, I feel completely physically and mentally exhausted. James and me
spent the rest of the journey arm in arm without speaking. I've tried to calm myself by telling myself over and over again that this won't make me lose James, but I find it
hard to believe that when I see the blank look in his eyes. Mortimer Beaufort took a part of him from me today, and I hate him more for it than I've ever hated anyone
in my life.
I fight back tears as I watch James grab his bag from our living room and away from my parents
who look back and forth between us in shock because they think we have had an argument. Only when Ember, who arrived home shortly after us, whispers to them that
James' father has turned up at the party, does Mum hug James.
“You are always welcome here,” she says.
James closes his eyes tightly for a moment. "Thanks," he says roughly. Then he shakes my dad's hand and walks toward the front door.
I accompany him outside, through our front garden to his car. Since it was still with us, Percy is alone with the Rolls-Royce
drove back after dropping us off here. James opens the trunk and puts his bag away.
Then he turns to me. "Okay." He clears his throat.
"Okay," I whisper.
James bites his lower lip and looks at me. "I'll write to you tomorrow."
I'm afraid I'll start crying if I say anything else, so I just nod. He leans forward and gives me a gentle kiss. When he tries to lean back again, I grab his upper arms and pull
him closer to me. He makes a surprised sound against my lips, but doesn't break the kiss. Instead, he buries a hand in my hair and kisses me just as hard.
desperate like me.
When we finally pull away from each other, we're both breathing heavily and quickly. James raises his hand and gently pushes my hair out of my face. "I love you," he
says in a rough voice, then he turns around, opens the driver's door and gets in.
I watch motionless as he drives off and finally disappears around the corner. My heart hurts. For him, for me. For us.
"Ruby?" Ember's hesitant voice reaches my ear.
I turn to her. She stands undecided at our garden gate.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
I open my mouth to answer her, but no words come out - but instead a sob that surprises me at least as much as Ember, who opens her eyes in alarm and immediately
comes over to hug me.
“Oh, Ruby,” she says, stroking my back as I let the tears fall.
James
Although I'm not exceeding the speed limit, it feels like the houses of Gormsey are passing me far too fast
pass by. At the same time, it feels like I've been sitting in this car for ages, five minutes at most
passed since I left the Bells.
It's in your hands, James, my father's voice echoes in my thoughts. It lies in your hand.
If the decision is in my hands, why doesn't it feel like that at all? Why is the world spinning so fast, why is there this pressure on my chest that keeps getting stronger?
My vision is blurring. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, but it doesn't help. I slow the car down and
I pull it over to the side of the road. Then I turn off the engine and lean my forehead against the steering wheel.
In my head, my father's voice gets louder and louder until I can't stand it anymore and I feel the instinct to press my hands over my ears. All of this makes me so incredibly
angry. I hate losing control like this, I
hate that my father made me leave Ruby and her family.
I hit the steering wheel in a blind rage. I can't do it anymore. I just can't do it anymore. Again and again I let my fist crash down on it until I have no more strength and let
my head sink back against the headrest. I close my eyes and
I take a few deep breaths and at some point the world stops spinning so fast. My vision is no longer
blurry, although the burning in my eyes is still there.
I let my gaze wander along the road and think about what will happen if I drive back to my father now. How
what that would feel like.
I turn the engine back on. My body functions as if on autopilot as I steer the car onto the road, and before I really do
Realizing what I'm doing, I turn left. The route has now become second nature to me – I could probably do it
even drive blind.
I park directly behind Wren's car, get out and walk the short way through the front yard to the Fitzgeralds' front door. Without thinking, I press the round
doorbell.
A minute passes in which nothing happens, then Wren opens the door. His eyes widen slightly when he sees me. Then he frowns.
"Are you here to give me hell about Ember?" he asks.
The words get stuck in my throat as I realize what he just asked. "Why would I want to give you hell over Ember?"
“Ember is the girl I told you about. I...I thought Ruby sent you. She saw us together today.”
I have no idea how to answer that. The questions are racing in my head. Wren and Ember? Like Ruby, I guess
reacted when she found out about it?
When I think of Ruby, a pang of pain runs through me, reminding me why I came here in the first place.
"I'm not here because of Ember."
Wren nods slowly. “Because of your dad?”
Now I'm the one nodding. "He's expecting me at home, but I really can't do that right now."
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks quietly.
I shake my head. "I just can't go home right now."
As I say the last words, Wren steps to the side. "Come in."
I step over the threshold and then go upstairs with Wren to his room.
Being here feels less and less strange every time. Wren's old house was always like a second home to me - I wonder if this house will ever be the same.
"Sit down," Wren says, pointing to his bed as he walks over to his desk and takes a seat there. My gaze falls on the screen of his computer. The website's squiggly
headline is more than familiar to me, as is the image on the right.
Wren quickly closes the laptop, but it's too late - I would have recognized Ember's blog among hundreds.
“Wren?” I ask as I sit down.
He turns his head to me.
"And?"
I look at him steadily. »Ember has become something of a sister to me in the last few weeks. If you hurt her, will
I'm going to hurt you. You know that, right?"
One corner of Wren's mouth lifts slightly, but the look in his eyes remains serious. "Sure. Even if I don't plan to, just by the way."
I lower my eyes to my hands and concentrate on the lines on my skin. »Sometimes you have no other choice.
Sometimes other people make you hurt someone, even when that's the last thing you want to do."
After that, silence spreads between us. I clench my hands into fists and then relax them again. My thoughts go to Ruby and
to Dad and finally to my Mum. I wonder what she would do if she were still alive. Would she understand that I can't do anything with the company? Would she let Dad
threaten Ruby's family? I don't believe. But unfortunately she's no longer there to stop him - and I feel more useless than ever.
Wren breaks me out of my thoughts as he sits down next to me. He holds out a generously filled whiskey glass to me - one of the glasses we gave him as a
housewarming gift. I gratefully accept it and swirl the brown liquid in it back and forth.
"No matter what your dad is planning, you can do it. We can do it."
I cling to those words as I clink my glass against his.
Human
I don't know how much time has passed when I finally let go of Ruby and we go back into the house. She avoids our parents' questions and just mumbles that she's too
tired to talk and would like to lie down. Then she goes to her room and falls onto her bed without saying a word. I see the fact that she didn't close the door behind her
as an invitation to follow her.
As I sit down next to her, she sits up, leans her back against the headboard of the bed and looks at me. I reply
her look and wait to see if she is the first to say something. She really hurt me with her behavior with Lydia's aunt, and also when I her
I don't want to leave you alone now, I can't forget that.
"I'm sorry I freaked out like that earlier," she finally begins. Her eyes are still red and her voice is scratchy, but she has
stopped crying a while ago. »Seeing you together was just the last thing I expected. Since when
Aren’t we telling each other things like that anymore, Ember?”
I take a deep breath. “I wanted to find out for myself what it was between me and Wren before I told anyone else.
Besides, I knew exactly how you would react."
"Did I really make you feel like you can't trust me? I just want the best for you. That's all."
“I know,” I answer quietly.
“I'm sorry I was so patronizing. I…” She shrugs. »I want to know all about the things you do in your free time. And I want us to be able to tell each other everything. Just like
before.”
A lump forms in my throat at her words. "I want it, too."
"I definitely don't want to be a big sister who you can't talk to and who you have to worry about judging." She hesitates. "It's just... Wren and I have a history that really...
I don't know exactly what kind of person he is now, but back then I thought he and his behavior were horrible."
“I understand that,” I say. "I think it's terrible too."
“Still, you got into the car with him earlier.”
I'm looking for the right words. »We haven't spoken to each other for the last few weeks and only made up again today. I wanted to give him the opportunity to explain it to
me. I have to say that I got to know him as a completely different person. He
stands by what he did back then. Right?"
Ruby takes a deep breath and finally nods briefly.
“I really like him, Ruby. I feel like he understands me. We kind of… clicked.”
“Mh,” she says. "He may have changed."
"I'm cautious. But this is an experience I have to go through myself. You can't protect me from it."
Ruby is silent for a moment, tracing an imaginary line on her mattress with her index finger, apparently in thought
lost in thought. Finally she sighs and says more to herself than to me: "No. That's true."
“Would you like to tell me what happened between you and James?” I ask cautiously.
Ruby swallows hard. Her gaze wanders around the room and stops at the desk. »He's going back to his father. And back
to Beaufort.«
I hold my breath. "What?"

Ruby doesn't say anything more. Minutes pass in which she just stares straight ahead. She looks like she's not really present, and her eyes are so empty that it gives me goosebumps on my
arms.
'Wren told me on the drive back that he wouldn't be surprised if James' father resorted to unfair means to get him
back," I say cautiously. "Do you think that happened today?"
That snaps Ruby out of her trance. Her eyes spark as she looks at me. "The bastard is blackmailing James."
I exhale haltingly. So it's like Wren said.
"What is he blackmailing him with?" I ask.
Ruby swallows hard. She opens her mouth, closes it again. Finally, she clears her throat and starts again. "He... he said he would destroy our family."
My eyes widen. "I'm sorry, what?"
»James hasn't told me any more, but he doesn't need to. We both know that Mortimer Beaufort doesn't make empty threats
“She rubs her hand over her eyes, which have become moist again. "Just imagining what exactly he might have said to James makes me incredibly angry."
I think feverishly about what Ruby just told me and wonder if there could be any reason that would justify James' father acting this way. But I can't think of any for the life of me. Our dad would never
put us through such suffering.
inflict - no matter what situation he was in. "I don't understand how someone can do that to their children."
Ruby grabs one of her pillows and pulls it onto her lap. She hugs it tightly and seems to cling to it.
»He has made up his mind that he will only continue to run Beaufort with James. He only cares about his reputation – about the effect that
It affects others when James sits next to him during meetings and negotiations. I feel sick when I think about James
must immediately do everything he asks of him again. I would love to help him, but I don't know what I can do." Her voice breaks and she has to clear her throat again.
I reach forward and grasp her arm, which is wrapped tightly around the pillow. "You're helping him, Ruby."
"How? By sitting here and letting him just leave?" she replies.
I shake my head and squeeze her arm gently. "You're there for him. And I think that's exactly what James needs from you right now."
Ruby swallows hard and sniffles. I realize that I definitely don't want to leave her alone in this state. Suddenly, an idea occurs to me.
“What do you think about me sleeping here today?” I ask cautiously.
Ruby thinks about my question for a moment. In the next second, she slides about half a meter to the side and lets herself
She hands me the pillow from her lap and I place it on the free half of the bed. Then I lie down
I turn to the side and look at Ruby.
"Thank you for being here, Ember," she whispers.
I reach for her hand. "Always."

27
Ruby
On Monday I feel like I've been wrapped in cotton wool. The morning passes by without me really noticing anything because my thoughts are only on James and the
fact that he left a painful hole in my family when he moved out.
On Sunday I texted him how he was doing and whether he wanted to talk, to which he replied that everything was fine.
Late in the evening I received a notification that a first post had been uploaded to Beyond Beaufort .
I spent most of the night reading James' words over and over again. He wrote about dreams.
About how important they are and that you have to allow them, no matter how bad you feel or how hopeless a situation may be. About how you should surround yourself
with people who encourage you to pursue your dreams and that there is nothing more beautiful than finding a person who shares your dreams. And he wrote about how
for some dreams, the time has simply not yet come.
When the time is right and you still can't give up on them, even if it costs you more energy than anything else, keep working on them
to hold on.
His words made me cry again and I couldn't stop thinking about them.
It drives me crazy that there's nothing I can do for him. Even if Ember thinks it would be enough to be there for him
be – that is not enough for me. I would like to go to London and confront James' father, but I can imagine what
James would think of it.
So I sit in class on Monday morning and force myself to write down notes, but with the best will in the world I don't have the strength to sort the things away properly,
let alone pick up a single colored pen. Not even my bullet journal can make me feel like I have my life under control now.
During my lunch break I listlessly pick at my food, occasionally raising my head to look for James
I haven't seen him yet. I had hoped that he would be waiting for me at the bus in the morning and had to swallow the disappointment like a heavy lump when that
wasn't the case.
"We're so lucky, Ruby," Lin says quietly.
I look up from my rice dish and look at her questioningly.
»Because we have parents who don't force us to do anything. I mean, sure, my mom and my grandmother always wanted me to
I went to study – but they never pressured me into anything I didn’t want to do.”
"Exactly that is my problem. Because I know what it can be like when you have a loving, supportive family, the situation makes it
somehow even more unbearable.«
"Unfortunately, there's nothing you can do about it right now," says Lin, taking a sip of her iced tea. Then she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "What James'
father does is not in your hands. And I believe you that it is incredibly difficult to watch
and not being able to intervene. But the worst thing you can do to James now is let your relationship suffer. it works
he's probably already dirty enough with his decision."
"I know," I whisper and finally put the fork down. I don't even want to imagine what Mortimer Beaufort would have done if
James had refused to come back. What he would have done to my family.
At that moment James enters the cafeteria. Wren and Cyril walk beside him, Kesh and Alistair close behind them. They talk, Wren elbows James in the side and grins
widely. Cyril just rolls his eyes at his words, but he also has to grin. And James? James forces a smile too, but even from this distance I can see how wrong and
fake it looks. It has nothing in common with the smile that spreads across his face when my dad makes a joke.
It has nothing in common with the smile he wears when he talks to Lydia. And it has nothing in common with the smile he gives me every time he kisses me.
As if he had read my thoughts, he looks at me. The boys come in our direction, probably to sit in their usual place by the window. James stops in front of our table.
Now I can see how pale he is and how deep the rings under his
turquoise blue eyes are.
“Hey,” he says, lifting his hand to my cheek. As his knuckles brush against my skin, a tingling sensation spreads through me. His smile is hesitant, as if he's not sure
how I would react to his touch.
At this moment, one thing becomes clear to me: James is doing everything he can to be strong. For Lydia, for my family, for me. Just as I
I'm not helping him. On the contrary, I'm just putting additional strain on him. My behavior towards him isn't really fair. He is making a huge sacrifice for my family
and me. And instead of giving him the support that he needs right now and that his friends give him
clearly donate, I criticize his decision and possibly make him feel guilty. I should be there for him instead
to make his life more difficult.
»James?«
He looks at me questioningly. "Yes?"
“Do you have any plans after dinner?” I ask.
"I have half an hour until Percy picks me up." He tilts his head slightly and squints. "Why?"
I smile at him. Then I lean forward and whisper something in his ear, hopefully quietly enough that no one else can hear. As I lean back again, I see something flash
in James' eyes. And I like that so much better than seeing him sad.
Lunch break isn't quite over yet, so it's pleasantly empty when I arrive at the library. Instead of taking my usual route to the printer, the circulation desk and finally to
the group rooms, I turn immediately right and cross the room until
almost at the very back, where there is a small table in a corner between two shelves with heavy illustrated books and old history books.
I put my bag on the floor, then I sit on the table and lean back on my hands. My heart is pounding like
crazy, and I feel like I'm doing something unspeakably forbidden - but I'm just waiting for James.
I wrote him detailed instructions on where to find me and it takes less than five minutes to find him between the shelves
appears and walks towards me. Even though my heart feels heavy, I can't help but smile at him. "There you are."
James stops right in front of me. "As if I could turn down a secret meeting with the most amazing girl in Maxton Hall."
His words make me feel warm. I reach out for his hands and he grasps them gently.
"I'm sorry," I finally begin, looking at our intertwined fingers.
"What are you sorry for?"

I stroke the back of his hand with my thumbs. »How I reacted.« I look up again and look James straight in the eyes. »If
I didn't say this clearly enough: I support you in everything you do. And we will do this too. We may
Don't let your father come between us again. OK?"
James seems to have held his breath as I said this. He stares at me and takes a few seconds to react.
He slowly lifts my hands to his mouth and kisses them briefly. “Thank you,” he says in a thick voice.
I lean forward and pull him in for a hug. I spread my legs so he can stand between them. One minute
We hold on to each other for a long time. I breathe in his familiar scent and run my hands over his back.
“Why did you actually want to meet me here?” James asks at some point close to my ear. His hand is on mine
The back of my head and he keeps me close to him. Nevertheless, I pull away from him a little and take a deep breath.
»I wanted to show you that even on a day like today, when you have to go to London, great things can still happen.
So I thought I'd finally give you the kiss you wanted."
James' brows are drawn together, but at my words his thoughtful expression clears and a lively sparkle appears in
his eyes. His hand moves down my back until he's almost at my tailbone. Then he pulls me after him
forward until I'm almost sitting on the edge of the table and have to support myself with one hand on his chest.
“You have great ideas, Ruby Bell,” James whispers.
I don't know which of us moves first. The next moment our lips are fused together. I hold onto him and he presses himself against me, his mouth feverishly on mine.
James holds the back of my neck and I surrender completely to the feeling he makes me feel. I realize that nothing has changed between us.
And I'm determined that it will stay that way in the future - no matter what his father comes up with next.
James
It's really hard to concentrate on brainstorming the new Beaufort catalogues or the new EU labelling legislation when Ruby can't get out of my head.
“James?” Edward Culpepper asks, his voice causing the picture of her on the table in the library to explode.
Just like everyone else in this room, he calls me by my first name. After all, there can't be two Mr Beauforts. The members of the board try to treat me as an equal, but I
still feel the skepticism that I am met with. And that's despite the fact that I don't even know two-thirds of the people in this room - Dad must have replaced a lot of the
board in the last few weeks.
“Yes?” I ask, leaning forward with both elbows on the conference table to feign interest.
"I asked if you had anything else to add."
I stare at him. My throat feels dry as I realize how quiet the room has suddenly become. I look at the critical faces of the men and women sitting around the
table. I bet they think I have no idea what they just talked about. But my dad has been drilling this stuff into me since I was a kid. I could do a fiscal year plan.
for Beaufort to take over in his sleep. I know how this company works, although things have changed since Mum died.
»Yes. I would like us to evaluate the key figures monthly from now on, not every six months. This way we can react more quickly if
a development that we did not expect. And I think the board should be present, not just the department heads.
Culpepper's mouth is open slightly, but he immediately closes it again and nods curtly. Then he makes a quick note on his iPad and looks at my father at the head of the
table. He speaks up and babbles something about the measures taken so far. A slide with numbers and a graph is projected onto the screen at the front, and I spend
the next forty-five minutes pretending to listen and taking notes. But my paper is just wild circles. The pen in my hand feels like it weighs a thousand times as much as I
try to write down anything that Dad and the others are discussing. At one point I catch the old guy next to me glancing at my open notebook and
then twists the corners of his mouth disapprovingly. I close it and stare ahead from then on without touching the pen once again.
The longest hour and a half of my life ends at some point. Two board members go to Dad and involve him in
a conversation while I stand up and stretch my arms above my head to somehow get rid of the stiffness in my limbs.
My father gives me a stern look and I lower my eyes again. Then I wait for him, my back straight, my notebook in my hand. My father signals to his colleagues to wait a
moment. Then he comes to me.
"You're going home with Percival. I have a business dinner with Edward and Bancroft. It's getting late, I'm staying overnight in London," he says, nodding briefly at
me.
With that, I'm fired. I say a quick goodbye and take the elevator down the twenty floors. An incredible sense of relief comes over me as I step outside through the
revolving doors and inhale the fresh evening air. Percy is already leaning on it
Rolls-Royce and sits up when he sees me. He opens the door for me and I fall into the back seat. Now that I'm behind darkened windows and no one in this building can
see me anymore, I can finally untie my tie
loosen up. It's been choking me for hours.
“Are you okay, sir?” Percy asks me, and our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.
I can only shrug my shoulders. I have no idea how to answer this question. It feels like I've returned after months of vacation to a life that deeply depresses
me from morning to night.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. When I eventually open them again, they feel dry and tired. I must have nodded off. I rub my face with both hands and
look outside. We are just coming to the Pemwick town sign
past - but instead of taking the exit, Percy drives past it.
“You missed the exit, Percy,” I say harshly, leaning over to the minibar to grab one of the small bottles of water
to take out. I empty it in one gulp, hoping my throat won't feel like a grater afterward. Then see
I go outside again. At the next exit, Percy leaves, but then turns immediately left. There are two more junctions that clearly do not lead back to the main road.
"Percy," I say again, checking the light on the ceiling of the Rolls-Royce. It's on, so he must be able to hear me.
I still don't get a reaction. Instead, he drives the car into the parking lot in front of a small pub. Frowning
I look at the yellowish light shining through the windows.
I want to ask Percy where the hell we are, but he beats me to it:
"I need to talk to you, Mr. Beaufort."
The pub is small with narrow aisles that I can't help but wonder how the waiters are supposed to get through with the trays. Apart from Percy and me, there are only two
other men present, sitting in a corner and watching a football game on a small television
Look at the wall. Percy points to a table against a wall covered in old plaques and framed, retro-style movie posters. We sit down and a little later a waiter places cards in front of us. Neither Percy
nor I touch them.
"What I'm doing here will probably cost me my job," Percy says after a few minutes. His voice is calm, as if he has already come to terms with this fact.
I look at him, waiting.
Percy clears his throat and opens his mouth, but at that moment the waiter appears at our table again and asks us what we would like to drink. Without taking my eyes off Percy, I order a large
water bottle with two glasses. Then we are alone again.
“At the end of last year…” he finally begins, “… I overheard a phone call from your father.”
I open my mouth, but Percy seems to know what I'm going to ask him.
“The loudspeaker in the Rolls-Royce was switched on.” He hesitates. “I didn't think anything of it at first - your father has all sorts of conversations in my presence. But I also couldn’t
stop thinking about it.”
I swallow hard and look at Percy expectantly.
He looks at the table and is silent for a few seconds. Then he takes a deep breath. "I couldn't stop thinking about his words because he said, 'Cordelia is dead. I need your help.'"
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “How did the conversation continue?”
"He said he would be there in twenty minutes and asked his interlocutor to receive him alone."
My thoughts are spinning around, my heart is beating faster and faster.
“Where did you drive him?” I croak.
“To Clive Allen.”
"Why would Dad meet with our lawyer in secret?"
Percy opens his mouth, but is interrupted by the waiter, who returns to the table at that moment and brings the glasses and water
in front of us.
“When was that?” I ask.
"The night after your mother died."
My stomach lurches uncomfortably and a thought flashes into my head. What if Mum's death wasn't a coincidence? What if Dad was involved? But then I think about that night when I saw
him in front of the family portrait in the dining room.
I will never forgive you. Now I'm alone with the two of them and I'm doing everything wrong and it's your damn fault!
This couldn't possibly have been an act. He seemed like he knew he was making mistakes. And he cried in front of me. Although I believe my father was capable of many things, he loved Mum.
»For the first time afterwards I was too… busy to think about it. But the conversation didn't leave me alone.
And when I talked to Ophelia over the weekend, I knew I had to talk to you about it.”
“What did Ophelia say?”
“She told me that there have been worrying developments at Beaufort in recent months . Your father fired part of the board.”
"He didn't fire them, they left of their own accord. They talked about that in the meeting today," I say, but at the same moment it occurs to me that this is probably just the official version of what
really happened. A sinking feeling spreads in my stomach.
“Ophelia said that while she didn't always agree with the way your mother ran the company, she did
at least knew that the spirit of Beaufort and the traditions of her family always came first for her. Now that seems to be
slowly change.«
I had a similar thought while sitting in the meeting with my father today. When I used to visit the Beaufort headquarters with Lydia and watch Mum at work, I always felt the passion with which Mum
and her colleagues made decisions. Beaufort had a heart. In contrast, the mood today was cold and tense, and the statements were emotionless and phrase-like.
“I know what she means,” I say quietly.
"Ophelia doesn't believe your mother shared Mr Beaufort's visions."
I frown. "My mum and dad always worked hand in hand."
»It only worked because your mother's word always counted more than your father's. She could control what he did because he was technically her employee.” He clears his throat. "I think your
mother had an inkling that something like this could happen if something...if something happened to her."
"Percy," I say slowly. "What are you trying to tell me?"
Percy just looks at me for a moment, then he exhales sharply. He reaches into the collar of his shirt and pulls out a thin silver chain with a pendant. He carefully pulls it over his head and
then holds it up so that I can take a closer look.
can. What dangles from the chain is not a pendant - but a small key.
"Your mother gave me this key a few years ago. She told me to protect it with my life." He looks at the small teeth and runs his finger over the tarnished metal. He seems almost in a trance. Then
he shakes his head, as if to
to snap himself out of the dream he was in and remove the key from the chain. He pushes it across the table in my direction before slipping the chain back over his head and letting it disappear
under his shirt.
I take the key in my hand and turn it back and forth a few times. "Why did she trust you with it?" I ask in a hoarse voice.
Percy swallows hard. "We were kind of friends."
Thoughts are racing around in my head, but I try to push them away. All that matters now is the fact that Mum
had a secret. A secret she didn't want to tell Dad, Lydia, me, or Ophelia. A secret to which I hold the key in my hand.
"She never told me what it was for," Percy says slowly. “But I think you should have it.”
I look up at Percy and suddenly I notice how sad he looks. I remember what Ruby told me.
That all this certainly cannot have been easy for Percy – neither Mum’s death nor Lydia’s and my departure. Even if he
our employee - he's part of this family. And he obviously meant so much to my mum that she trusted him unconditionally.
"Do you think the key and Dad's strange phone call are connected?" I finally ask.
He shrugs. "I don't know. But what I do know is that your father has something to hide."
I turn the key in my hand. Then I take out my wallet, flip it open, and slide it right behind Ruby's list.
I look Percy in the eyes resolutely. "I'll find out what it is."
"I was hoping you would say that, Mr. Beaufort."

28
Ruby
I sit on the cold steps in front of the Beauforts' house and look at the clock. James texted me over an hour ago that he
was on the way home and asked me if I wanted to come over. I didn't hesitate for a second.
I meant what I said to him this afternoon. I want to be there for him and support him - even if he is
terrible meeting at Beaufort , I want to spend at least one nice evening with him before the whole cycle
starts again from the beginning.
I don't have to wait long before I spot the Rolls-Royce in the driveway to the house. I stand up and stroke my skirt
to remove any possible traces of dust. Percy stops the car right in front of the entrance and a little later James gets out. Although I know that he is anything but comfortable in it, I cannot deny
how well the grey checked Beaufort suit that he has put on for the meeting suits him. It looks as if it was made especially for James' body and I swallow hard as I look back to
I look up and see the ambiguous smile on James' lips.
The next moment he comes to me and hugs me tightly.
"Hey," he murmurs in my ear and immediately presses a kiss to my head.
I hold him for a moment before leaning back to look at his face.
“How was it?” I ask carefully and quickly stroke his neck with my hand.
“Come on,” says James, nodding toward the front door. “I’ll tell you everything inside.”
He glances at Percy, who is just getting out of the car and nodding goodbye, then he takes my hand and walks up to the house with me. He opens the door for me, but before we even set
foot in the house, Mary comes over to us and looks at us questioningly.
"Mary, Ruby and I would like some privacy tonight," says James. "It would be nice if no one came upstairs."
I feel heat rushing to my face - just like the housekeeper, whose cheeks are beginning to blush slightly. James' words have completely thrown me for a loop and I feel dazed as he pulls me up
the stairs and towards the left
his room. He takes another look over his shoulder when we get to his room and then closes the door behind us.
I expect James to push me against the wall and kiss me senseless, but instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
"I have to show you something," he repeats the words he had already written in the text message.
I look at him questioningly. »What's going on?«
»After the meeting, Percy picked me up and wanted to drive me home - but he made a quick stop at a pub.
And then he told me something about my father. Something that could change everything."
He opens his wallet and takes out something – a small key. He holds it out to me and I turn it over in my hand
and forth. It doesn't look special, but rather like a normal little key.
“What is this for?” I ask slowly.
"Mum entrusted Percy with this key years ago," James says quickly. His words almost tumble. He pushes himself away from the door and takes off his jacket as he goes. He lets it fall onto the
sofa, then loosens the knot of his tie and looks at me again. "He also told me that he had to drive Dad to a lawyer shortly after Mum died. He said it was urgent and asked for
Discretion requested.«
Without really realizing it, I hold my breath. "What does that mean?"
James also drops the tie on the sofa. Next, he undoes the cufflinks on his shirt and loosely rolls up his sleeves to his elbows. “That means we have to find out what Mum was hiding from Dad.
Maybe the key is related to Dad's secret. Maybe…” His words trail off and he presses his lips into a thin line.
I straighten my shoulders and walk towards James. I cup his hot cheeks and stand on tiptoe to give him a
to give a quick kiss. Then I break away from him and look at him seriously. "We'll find out what the key is for."
James swallows hard and nods. He takes the key back and puts it in his suit pants. »Dad is staying in London today. There’s no better time to go through Mum’s things than now.”
James takes my jacket from me and then we leave his room again. We go back and past the stairs into the part of the house that I have never been in before. The hallway is at least as long
as the one where Lydia and James' room are, but there is only one door here. We stop in front of it and James takes a deep breath. Then he turns the knob and pushes the massive
wooden door inwards.
There is something forbidden about entering the room; my own heartbeat seems far too loud. I look around breathlessly as James closes and locks the door behind us. We are in a narrow hallway
where there is a wardrobe with an integrated wardrobe on the right
illuminated mirror. On the left is a door that surely leads to a private bathroom. James walks past it into the bedroom and I follow him.
"I can't remember the last time I was in here," James admits. He whispers as if he's just as terrified as I am that he'll get caught at any moment. He walks across the room to a desk near the
window.
»Mum always liked to look outside while she worked. Every time she was in my room she turned up her nose at the fact that my desk was against the wall." He looks at the papers lying
on the work surface and spreads out the pieces of paper. He skims their contents. »In the meantime I just want to look outside. When I ever have my own place, I'll do just like them."
I walk over to him and gently stroke his back. “Shall we get started?” I ask.
James remains with his hand on the pages for a moment before finally taking a deep breath and nodding. "Yes. Let's begin."
"Since we're standing here..." I say, leaning down to the desk drawers. I look questioningly at James.
“Don’t force yourself.”
I gather all my courage and open the first drawer. Inside there are lots of Beaufort notepads and the matching pencils. I take everything out, put it on top and then feel the bottom. I tap on the
small plate, but the sound doesn't sound hollow, just normal.
“You look like you've done this a million times before. Is there anything I should know about?” James asks from across the desk, where he is clearing out the small
cupboard.
"I've seen enough films," I reply, shaking the drawer. Nothing happens, so I put the things back in, making sure everything is exactly as it was before, and close it
again. Then it's drawer number two's turn.
"I don't know whether to find that scary or hot."
I grin and pull out the folder that is in the second drawer. I leaf through it, but find nothing that looks suspicious.
looks like, let alone something the little key could fit.
We work our way forward until we have looked through the entire desk. In the end we even move it forward to see if
There may be something hidden behind it - but to no avail. Then we go to the nightstands. At this point, at the latest, we both lose the desire to make jokes to lighten the
situation. I feel shabby as I open Mrs Beaufort's and rummage through hand creams, a few pieces of jewelry and an English classic. I also find an old magazine with a
photo of Cordelia Beaufort on the cover. I briefly wonder why she keeps this in her bedside table, but probably
I wouldn't have done it differently. Maybe I would have even hung a cover photo like that over my desk.
"Here is nothing. “Not even under the bed,” James says muffledly. He stands up again, his shirt now completely wrinkled.
"Not here either. Off to the closet?" I ask.
"And."
When he opens the door to his parents' walk-in closet, I take my breath away. The room is huge.
To the left and right are clothes rails on which hang neatly ironed suits and blouses, suits and shirts, and shelves with countless pairs of shoes. The left side of the
closet must have belonged to Mrs Beaufort, and I really start to sweat when I see her clothes. At the same time, it flashes through my mind that my sister would give her
right hand for
to be able to swap with me now. She has a thing for walk-in closets and I know this is a dream come true
for her. I am immediately ashamed of the thought and push it out of my mind to concentrate on the task
concentrate on what lies ahead of us.
James takes a few steps into the room and lightly strokes the fabric of his mum's costumes.
"It even still smells of her," he murmurs hoarsely.
I come up to him from behind and touch his shoulder lightly. “If you want us to stop, all you have to do is say something.”
He immediately shakes his head. "No."
I nod and stand at the first shelf. I carefully start to push the individual T-shirts apart to see if
something was hidden between them. Unfortunately, that is not the case. James takes care of the upper compartments that I cannot reach,
as well as the shoe racks, but he is also unsuccessful.
“Here too?” I ask, pointing to the white lacquered chest of drawers further back in the room. James nods and I press the push door opener.
Again I hold my breath. I am literally blinded by the jewelry. Everything shines and sparkles - brooches, necklaces, earrings and some fascinators that are perfect for
weddings or attending the Grand National.
“Wow,” I murmur.
James comes over and crouches down next to me. »I remember many of these pieces. I can even remember the exact occasions
remember where she wore them. Is that strange?”
I shake my head. "Not at all."
We look at the compartments lined with black velvet and lift them out to see if there is anything underneath
something is located. The bottom compartment contains hair clips and lots of extravagant bits and pieces. I recognize some accessories there
I saw it on Lydia when she was sitting in front of me in class.
“Why is this only half a subject?” James suddenly asks.
I was too busy inspecting a glittering spider and wondering what occasion one would wear such a thing
for me to notice. The next moment, James leans forward and pulls the drawer out as far as it will go.
He then pushes his arm into the space between the bottom drawer and the back wall of the cupboard. His eyes widen.
"I think there's something there," he says, leaning forward a little further until his arm has completely disappeared into the closet. I'm listening
quiet scraping as James reaches for the object. I hold my breath as he finally makes it and his arm appears again
comes. Then I frown.
“What is that?” I ask quietly.
James looks just as surprised. The item is a small box. It is covered all over with small beads and craft stones - in all sorts of colors. The box is so colorful and so
flashy that it doesn't fit at all with the other things in Cordelia Beaufort's closet.
»Looks like a jewelry box. But... I don't think Mum heard that. It looks kind of strange.”
I nod. The stones are all stuck on so crookedly that it looks as if a small child had had fun with them. “Did you ever make something like this in kindergarten?” I ask.
He shakes his head. "And if I had, my father would have thrown it away."
"James," I say suddenly, "turn her around."
He follows my request and freezes. A small keyhole can be seen on the front of the box.
“Do you have the key?” I ask, but James has already reached into his pocket and pulled it out. I think we're both holding our breath as he puts it in the keyhole - and
turns it over.
We exchange a look, then James opens the lid of the box. I lean forward.
There is an envelope lying on dark blue velvet. James takes it out and places the box on the floor next to him.
Then he slowly tears open the letter.
I watch James read. He doesn't make any movement. But I'm trying to wait and not let it show
how restless I am.
After two minutes, James looks up from the letter.
"And?" I whisper.
» We m ü ssenso fo rt O ph elia anru fe n.« He reached the B rie f in the H ö h e. » This is the Te stamentm einer Mutter.«
29
Lydia
... I also bequeath my shares in the Beaufort Companies to my younger sister Ophelia. In the event of my death, she will take on the role of creative director and first
CEO until my children graduate.
While Ophelia reads, I put my hand over my mouth. My aunt rubs her eyes as if she cannot believe what
is written in my mother's will.
“That wasn’t all,” says Ophelia, handing it to me. With my free hand I claw at Graham's leg. He sits next to me in the winter garden and has an arm around my shoulder. He squeezes it
briefly while I accept my mother's letter with trembling fingers. I scan the will to the passage that Ophelia read aloud. When I see my name, I heave
the piece of paper higher.
I, Cordelia Beaufort, hereby designate my daughter Lydia Beaufort and my son James Beaufort as my heirs, in equal shares. May they always believe in themselves
and put their vision into action.
A big lump forms in my throat. "I don't believe that," I whisper. "She signed shares over to me. To James and me."
“Because she believed in you,” Graham says gently.
Tears well up in my eyes, blurring Mum's words before them. I hastily hand the letter back to James, who is sitting to my right and has been surprisingly quiet the whole time.
"I can't believe she kept that piece," Ophelia says quietly, running her fingers over the jewelry box.
“I gave this to her for her thirteenth birthday.”
I swallow hard. “If she hid this will with such care, that would mean…” I begin in a thick voice.
“…that the other will is a forgery,” James finishes the sentence. “The one that names Dad as the sole heir to the company.”
“Cordelia’s will was officially kept,” Ophelia interjects. “I was there when Clive Allen read it out. Everything was right.«
“This will wasn’t notarized by Clive Allen,” says Graham suddenly next to me, frowning and pointing at the paper in my hand. "But from a Fergus Wright."
James and I exchange a glance.
»That was our previous lawyer,« my brother says slowly. »And our grandparents'. He died a few years ago, and
they hired Allen." He lets out a stunned laugh. "I don't believe that."
“What?” I ask, wiping the corners of my eyes.
"Percy drove Dad to Allen the night after Mum died. He asked him for help and discretion. They must have forged the will."
I hold my breath. "Do you think Dad knew that Mum wouldn't leave Beaufort to him?"
Ophelia stands up from the rattan chair she has been sitting on the whole time. "He must have suspected at least something."
I glance at James. He seems just as overwhelmed by the situation as I am.
»But … if Mum knew all along that she would leave the company to Ophelia one day – why didn’t she tell Dad about it?
prevented from isolating them like that?" asks James thoughtfully.
“Because she wanted to protect me,” Ophelia says quietly. She tucks a piece of rusty red hair behind her ear and swallows hard. »I will contact my lawyer. He should make sure that the correct
will can come into force.”
I reach for my brother's hand at the exact same moment he reaches for mine. As Ophelia makes the call, we cling to each other. I think we both realize that we need to stick together even more
now than ever before.
James
Lydia is wearing a black costume that makes her look frighteningly similar to Mum. We all dressed for the occasion: Ophelia is wearing a mint green sheath dress and I am wearing a Beaufort
suit.
It takes a while before Dad's assistant greets us and asks us to follow her. She opens the door for us and we enter the office one after the other. An oppressive feeling spreads through my chest
when I see my father.
“What did I do to deserve this surprise?” he asks mockingly. He doesn't even bother getting up from his desk.
Ophelia walks around the room with a calmness that I have never seen in her before. At this moment she looks like she has the upper hand. Probably because she knows that's the only way to get
through to Dad.
“We need to talk, Mortimer,” she says, taking a seat in front of the desk. Lydia sits on the second chair. I stand behind her and lean on the backrest.
Dad looks back and forth between our aunt and us. I can't place his expression. Does he know what's coming?
“We found this,” says Ophelia, opening her black briefcase. She pulls out a copy of Mum's will and
pushes it across the desk to my father.
I watch his expression closely. At first he blinks, perplexed. The next moment all blood drains from his cheeks.
He pulls the copy closer to him and skims through it.
“What is that?” he asks, looking up.
"That's my sister's will," Ophelia replies calmly. "Which raises the question of which will was read in December."
Dad's left eye starts to twitch. He raises his hand and runs it over his gelled hair. Then he swallows hard and presses his lips into a thin line.
That says it all. But I still need certainty.
"Did you forge Mum's will, Dad?" I ask, surprising myself with how cold and emotionless my voice is.
My father looks at me. He opens his mouth and closes it again. Apparently he was speechless.
"I asked you something." I look at my father more closely. By now, fine beads of sweat have formed on his forehead, even though his face is still chalk white. "Did you forge Mum's will so you
could take over Beaufort ?"
“I had no other choice,” he finally says.
Lydia takes a sharp breath. I, on the other hand, grip the back of the chair so tightly that the leather crunches under my fingers.
“Why?” I ask, trying to sound calm.
My father looks first at Lydia, then at me. "I didn't work my whole life for this company just to end up empty-handed."
"Cordelia would have left you part of her shares if she hadn't known how greedy you are," Ophelia says firmly.
"You have no idea what you're talking about!" hisses Dad. His hands are clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles are white. "We always had a plan that we worked on together. The
kids were going to Oxford and James was going to take over the company after that. We needed structure, strategy - and then she suddenly started talking about wanting to bring you back into
the company, even though I got rid of you years ago. It took ages to talk her out of it."
I can't believe the way he talks about our family - about Mum.
“Then it wasn’t Cordelia’s idea to keep me out of the main company,” Ophelia says slowly.
"Of course not. Your sister has always had trouble acting consistently. Unlike Cordelia, I had a vision
for Beaufort. And you stood in my way for them."
Lydia's shoulders tense more and more. I can sense that she would like to get up and walk out of the room, probably to preserve the last good memories of Dad that she still has.
I feel exactly the same way. At the same time white
I believe that we have to get through this. Otherwise we will never be able to look to the future with confidence.
"And why did you want to chain me to the company at all costs?" I ask.
Dad snorts contemptuously. "Because you always did what I said. Because it only took a little violence to get you into
to steer in the right direction. It would be better for me and the company if you filled Cordelia's void and not someone who filled one
has his own will and constantly tries to push it through."
Despite everything Dad has done to me over the last few years, I feel a pang of pain in my chest at the meaning of his words
gets through to me.
They show me that he never saw me as anything more than a tool for his success. They show me how little he loves Lydia and me
must.
And even though I thought I had finished with my father long ago, something inside me breaks when his eyes meet mine.
"You are a disgrace to this family, Mortimer," Ophelia says, deadly quietly. "You don't deserve to follow in Cordelia's footsteps."
Then he says nothing more.
“Aren’t you ashamed at all, Dad?” Lydia asks in a trembling voice.
"I just did what I thought was right."
"Then your moral compass is completely wrong," Lydia replies.
"Mum would be ashamed if she saw you like that," I add.
»That's all well and good. I'm just wondering what you're going to do with this information." He raises an eyebrow, but his
His arrogant look has lost its effect. It is as if the image I always had of my father has finally been shattered and as if I can now see what was really hidden behind his facade. I see his true
self - and it is not a pretty sight. On the contrary. I wonder how I could have believed in him for so long.
"We have several options now, Mortimer," says Ophelia. "The first: you step down from the company and hand over leadership to me. Just as Cordelia intended."
The room is filled with silence. I can see it working behind Dad's eyes.
"Unfortunately, that's not an option for me," he says after half a minute.
»Well, if that's the case, then my lawyer will initiate proceedings for the will to be re-executed. He has already spoken to Clive Allen and he is willing to testify against you if we refrain
from reporting him in return. He will say that you blackmailed him and forced him to read the false will. Your chances of winning this case are almost zero based on the weight of the evidence,
Mortimer. And you can imagine what happens if the press gets wind of it.”
Dad lowers his gaze to the desk. He swallows hard and relaxes his hands until they lie flat on the dark blue surface. When he looks up again, I brace myself for anything. Even if I have to fight.
But when he looks first at Lydia and then at me, I almost think I can see something like regret in his eyes.
"I would appreciate it if we could keep the press out of all this," he finally says.
At that moment I know: we have won.

30
James
The sun beats down on the field, but I enjoy the feeling of the protective gear around my body and the white 17 on my back. I don't think. All I have to do is run, catch
the ball and put it in the goal.
For a moment I close my eyes and concentrate on the sounds around me: the stomping footsteps, the shouts from the audience, the hum of the ball...
“Beaufort!” shouts Coach Freeman. “Stop sleeping, damn it!”
I open my eyes just in time to see Alistair pass me the ball. At the last moment I catch him with the stick - and then three players from the other team run towards me at
the same time.
My body switches gears on its own. I sprint off without hesitating for a second. One of the opposing players rams me. I lose my balance for a moment, but manage to
catch myself again. I look around for my teammates and spot Wren rushing forward with me. I pull the racket back and play him the ball powerfully. He has to jump up to
get it into his racket's pocket, but manages to do so. He takes three steps, but a defender stands in his way. Without hesitation, Wren hands it back to me. I dodge the
defenders, run as fast as I can. Then I jump and shoot. The ball whizzes past the goalkeeper and lands in the net. The next moment the referee blows his whistle for the
break.
Wren is the first to come up to me and give me a high five, the other crew members follow. Adrenaline floods my body. I'm on a high that I never want to come down
from.
I take the helmet off my head and immediately look for a head of brown hair.
Ruby sits in a seat in the front row, next to her her sister and the entire event committee.
I memorize everything. The feeling of the grass under my shoes as I run towards the stands. The creaking of my gloves as I grip the stick tighter. Ruby's gaze, which, even
from a distance, hits me with an intensity that seems even more intense than the rush I'm in after scoring a goal. When I get to her, I can't help but grin.
“Hey,” I murmur, leaning down to her. The kiss was supposed to be fleeting, but when I feel Ruby's lips against mine, I suddenly can't stop.
Ember makes a strange noise next to us, and soon Ruby leans back, laughing.
"Well, if that's how he acts, I can forgive him for skipping our meeting once a week," Lin tells me.
“I know,” Ruby says, smiling without taking her eyes off me. “He’s doing pretty well, isn’t he?”
My heart beats even faster.
“Hey,” Wren says, coming to stand next to us. »I would like to be praised too, please.«
“Fishing for compliments is uncool, Wren,” Ember replies. Although her tone is serious, the corners of her mouth twitch. I look at Wren, who is watching Ember with a
look on his face that I've never seen on him before: carefree, open, and full of affection.
I wonder if I look at Ruby the same way.
“Did Lydia write to you again?” I ask shortly afterwards, turning to Ruby.
She shakes her head. “Not since you last asked. Which, by the way, was only half an hour ago.”
I lean down to her. "Don't grin like that. I'm allowed to be a little excited. After all, it's not every day that you become an uncle," I say so quietly that only Ruby can
understand. Lydia wrote to her half an hour ago that she's been having irregular contractions for a while, but her doctor says she should wait before going to the hospital
because it might just be a false alarm.
“I'll give you a signal as soon as she gets in touch again. As we agreed,” says Ruby. There's still that meaningful smile on her lips that makes me want to kiss
her for hours.
“Promise?” I ask.
She nods and sits up slightly. Then she cups my face with both hands and pulls me down for a kiss.
"Come on, Captain," Wren says, bumping his shoulder against mine. "Break is over. I'm sure there's more to come."
I smile at Ruby again before turning around with Wren and jogging back towards the field. Meanwhile, I think back to the beginning of the school year. The day Lydia
stood in front of me and asked me to keep an eye on Ruby.
Since then, my life has turned 180 degrees. Everything I thought I would experience in the future has vanished into thin air. Instead of going to Oxford and sitting on the
board of Beaufort , I found the courage to go against what my parents wanted for me and listen to my heart.
Ophelia has taken over Beaufort and has already begun to carefully renew the company. Lydia will join her as soon as the twins are big enough.
I've learned that there's little point in trying to cling to any plans. At the beginning of the school year I felt like everything was a countdown to the end of my carefree life,
but now... now it feels like a beginning. Although deep down I will always struggle with what happened, my perspective on life has fundamentally changed.
I know Wren was referring to the score of our last lacrosse game, but I give him a sideways grin.
“And how more can be done,” I say and mean it with all my heart.
Epilogue
Three months later
Ruby
My life is divided into colors:
Gold – Seminare
Silver – examination results
Bronze – Clubs and extracurricular activities
Green – Best done immediately
Turquoise – Leisure
Lila – Family
Orange – My second family
I've already ticked off purple (call Ember), orange (wrap christening presents for Rosie and Henry (nicely!)) and bronze (attend the freshmen's breakfast and talk to at least one person) today.
Now I'm left with green (unpack the last boxes, print out and hang up pictures of Thailand), orange (read James' travel report) and turquoise (meet up with Lin for coffee and find out where the food
tastes best).
“How about here?” James asks.
I turn to him in my rickety desk chair. He stands between the bed and the small wardrobe and holds a photo of us on the wall. It's the first thing we did during the two weeks I accompanied him to
Thailand.
We were standing in the middle of a street market and hundreds of people were milling around us. But you can't tell from this in the picture. We are both smiling at the camera, happy and carefree.
Every time I look at the photo, I feel transported back to the two best weeks of my life - which is why I really want to have it hanging in my dorm room.
“I think the position is great,” I answer a little late.
James nods and sticks the picture to the previously barren wall with a first strip of scotch tape. “I think it’s really stupid that you’re not allowed to hang frames here.”
"It doesn't matter. The main thing is that the pictures are hanging," I reply and put a little cross in front of the completed task.
“I still have something for you,” says James. I can hear him move to the desk next to me and look up at him. In his hand he is holding a gift wrapped in brown paper and tied with a white bow.
I take it in surprise. »What...?«
"Open it," he says, smiling.
I slowly untie the bow and unfold the paper. A small wooden picture frame appears, containing another photo.
My heart skips a beat. “This is from your going away party!”
“I thought maybe you could put this on the desk. Then we can all watch you learn.”
I can't take my eyes off the photo. It was taken in our garden at the start of the summer holidays, the evening before James and I flew to Thailand. My parents are standing at the edge next to
Ember, Wren, Alistair, Kesh and Lin. Lydia and Graham are smiling broadly at the camera, right next to them is Cyril, holding baby Henry. Unlike the others, he is not looking at the camera, but is
watching Henry, who is holding his finger in a clenched grip. On the other side, James is standing with Rosie in his arms and I am right next to him, one arm around his waist, my face leaning
against his shoulder.
"Unbelievable," I murmur, holding the picture a little closer to my eyes. "It was only two months ago, and Henry and Rosie already feel like they've twice as big."
"Lydia keeps saying how creepy she thinks it is. I think it's kind of cool. Soon the boys and I can play lacrosse with them." He tries to keep his tone casual, but I can see his expression suddenly
darken. "When I come back, they probably won't recognize me."
“What nonsense,” I say and place the picture on the table. Then I stand up and stand in front of James. I put my hands on his hips and stand on tiptoes to nudge my nose against his. »You'll only
be gone four weeks. You can also Skype or FaceTime.«
In three days James will fly to Bali, where he will attend seminars on journalistic writing and professional photography. He has built up a small readership over the past few months, and even
though the development of his site is progressing slowly, he is having a lot of fun with it. Every time we talk about it or work together on entries and new layouts, his eyes literally light up.
I've never seen him like this before. And even though it's incredibly painful to be separated from him for so long, I'm incredibly happy about how much he loves his work.
It feels like we've both arrived, but are on a journey at the same time - he in the world and me in Oxford. Exactly where I always wanted to be, exactly how I always dreamed it would be. Only
better because I have James by my side.
"I'll bring you something," he says, pulling me close to him. “Or maybe I’ll carve something for you this time.”
I have to grin. "Something with lots of details and patterns, please."
"I'll see what I can do," he murmurs. Then he leans forward to gently place his lips on mine, setting off a firework of emotions within me.
I wonder if it will always be like this when he kisses me.
When he breaks away from me, I see in his eyes a whole series of promises, all of which he will definitely keep before he begins his journey.
My lips form into a smile on their own.
"My James," I whisper before pulling him back down and kissing him. He sighs against my lips.
We fought for so long to finally be here. So much has happened in the last few months: shattered wishes, hopeful dreams and more love than I ever
thought possible.
We fought and saved each other. And that is exactly what we will continue to do in the future. Every hour, minute, second.
thanksgiving
I can't believe we're actually at the end of the Maxton Hall trilogy. The past eighteen months of writing have been the most turbulent to date, and now I look back on this time with
both a laughing and a crying eye.
First I would like to thank my husband Christian, without whom this book would never have been finished. Some days, writing is associated with a lot of overcoming, especially when the self-
doubt becomes deafeningly loud and wants to take you down.
Thank you for constantly motivating me, being my biggest cheerleader and always listening to me.
Thanks go to my editor Stephanie Bubley, who sat with me from morning to night to fine-tune the books and to me
makes a better writer. After working so hard on Ruby, James & Co., we both deserve a (long) wellness vacation, a mountain of chocolate and lots of wine. I am very proud of us!
It is also time to thank all the other people at Bastei Lübbe/LYX who work tirelessly on the books:
Sandra Krings from production, who makes all the appointments possible and thanks to whom there is a printed book. Ricarda Witte-Masuhr, Simone Belack and Angie Timplan, who took care
of the great marketing. Barbara Fischer and Anna Fohs from the press and Christian Stüwe, thanks to whom my stories are also published abroad. Torsten Gläser and Andrea Ludorf, representing
the entire distribution of Bastei Lübbe/LYX, who bring the books to bookstores and thus to you, the readers. I would like to thank Jennifer Schock for the best reading tour I could have
wished for, Ruza Kelava and Simon Decot for their trust in my stories and Katharina Schmidt, who always steps in as a substitute when you need her.
I would also like to thank my test readers Lisa, Robert and Laura for their valuable comments, Sarah Saxx and Tina Köpke for the discussions about writing and my friends Elisa, Jasmin,
Jenny, Lucie, Maren, Wiebke and Anna for their
always open ears.
And finally, I thank all readers. I hope James was able to show you that no dream is too big or too small. I hope Ruby was able
encourage you to always stand up for yourself. I hope Lydia was able to give you the courage to grow beyond yourself. And I
hope you all learn a lesson from Ember, because a little more self-love never hurt anyone.
Thank you for traveling with us to Maxton Hall.

Return to Woodshill...
Everly and Nolan's story
28. June 2019

The author
© Mona Kasten
Mona Kasten was born in Hamburg in 1992 and studied library and information management before devoting herself entirely to writing. She lives in Lower
Saxony with her husband, her cats and countless books, loves caffeine in all forms, long walks in the forest and days when she can only write. For more
information, visit: www.monakasten.de
Mona Kasten’s novels at LYX

The Maxton Hall series:
Save Me
Save You
Save Us
The Again series:
Begin Again
Trust Again
Feel Again
Further novels by the author are in preparation at LYX.

LYX.digital at Bastei Lübbe AG
Original edition
Copyright © 2018 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Cologne
Textredaktion: Stephanie Bubley
Cover design: Sandra Taufer, Munich
Coverabbildung: © Shutterstock/Shebeko
Typesetting and e-book: Greiner & Reichel, Cologne
ISBN 978-3-7363-0675-2
You can find us on the Internet at: www.lyx-verlag.de
Please also note: www.luebbe.de and www.lesejury.de


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Surrender – Natalie Taylor

Dream In A Dream – TEN

In My Blood – Shawn Mendes

The Shortchange – Thomston

Bill Murray – Phantogram

Critical – Jonas Brothers

Do esn’t today feel like a day to be certain?

Certain, yet to decide.

GERSEY, A DAY TO BE CERTAIN

Even then, giving up was not an option for me.

It's your own fault, a spiteful voice sounds in my head.

I let out a resigned laugh.

The thought makes me sick.

“Maisie!” I call to her.

I nod quickly. "Sure. Thanks."

Please get in touch. I need to talk to you urgently.

I don't belong anywhere anymore, it occurs to me.

I snort quietly. "Help?" I croak. "From you?"

»What are you actually doing here?«

Wren shrugs. "I happened to be in the area."

I raise an eyebrow. "In Gormsey. Coincidentally."

“Did he send you to tell me that?” I ask, my voice trembling.

I press my lips together.

"James wouldn't do that," Wren says urgently.

"Why are you so sure?" I ask.

"Yes." His voice is toneless.

“Lydia,” he interrupts me gently.

"Hey! What...?" I begin.

Dad knows about Graham and me.

"Dad..." I whisper desperately.

"I'm trying to explain to you that it's..."

“I don’t want to hear your explanations, Lydia,” he interrupts.

Dad's cold eyes are fixed on my face. "Yes."

"Why did you do that?" I whisper.

"You should be grateful to me, Lydia," he adds.

But I'm not finished yet.

"No, you can't. I'm pregnant."

He stops on his heel. As if in slow motion, he turns back to me. "What?"

I jut my chin defiantly. "I'm pregnant. From Graham.”

But I've never seen him like this before.

“Does he know?” he asks so quietly that I can barely understand him.

to throw them in.

"What are you doing?"

At that moment James bursts into the room.

“What are you doing, Dad?” he asks.

James frowns. "About what?"

"Why are you packing my things, Dad?" I ask hoarsely.

»You move out immediately.«

A wave of nausea washes over me. "What?" I gasp.

James puts a hand on my back, as if to show me that he is with me.

I gasp for air. “W-what?”

"You can't do that," says James.

"Naturally. Why else?”

"You should care about your daughter, damn it!"

James stands in his way.

"Step aside, James."

I look at him uncertainly. "How come?"

“Thanks for the apology,” I say after a while.

He nods briefly and concentrates on the road again.

Knows him, he's somehow... more relaxed. Quieter.”

I feel my face getting warm.

“What’s going on?” I hear Wren mutter.