St. Edmund's School for Girls was the best school in the world. There were portraits of each and every Head Girl lined up on the wall. I wanted desperately to be a Head Girl. They were the picture of vitality: eyes bright, cheeks flushed, skin smooth and clear. I learned all the past Girls' names. Sometimes I murmured them under my breath, tracing the plaques beneath their portraits.
My best friend, Felicity Blythe, found it strange. "Life's not at all about school, Martha," she said.
That's where Felicity was wrong. St. Edmund’s was my everything. In my opinion, the other pupils didn’t appreciate it enough.
-
The St. Edmund’s gates were tall, black and locked. They only opened for the army vehicles. They would roll smoothly past the gnarled gates, their tinted windows glinting in the sunlight, for the men carrying the sleek black briefcases to file out one-by-one.
The men were there to protect us. Our Headmistress, Ms. Verity, told us so. Her late husband was an Army General, and they’d opened the school together years ago. The army men were all his friends.
“The army have the best technology in the world,” Ms. Verity said, her eyes shining. “Isn’t that wonderful? Don’t you feel lucky to have the resources we have?”
I know I felt lucky. But some of the other girls didn’t see it in the same way.
“The army men are scary,” Elizabeth Adams whined. We were all sitting in the common room, listening to her talk. Or at least the others were. I sat at my desk, conjugating French verbs. “Apparently I have to go to them after class for extra tutoring. Isn’t that horrible?”
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t a surprise that Elizabeth needed extra tutoring. Oftentimes I wished she’d shut up, because she never had anything intelligent to say.
Felicity wrinkled her nose. “I heard about that. Apparently Constance Brown has been told to go to extra tutoring too.”
Constance Brown was a dim, anxious girl, who flinched when the army men so much as brushed past her in the corridors. The news wasn’t surprising or interesting to me. I went back to my work.
-
Tutoring sessions became commonplace amongst the girls in our year. Soon there was a regular troupe of girls being sent off after class.
Felicity didn’t understand. “We never had tutoring sessions before. Why are they suddenly all being sent off?”
“Maybe because our exams are coming up,” I said. “Which you should be revising for.” Felicity had been slacking in her work recently. I hoped she wasn’t going in Constance and Elizabeth’s direction.
Felicity ignored me. “They look tired all the time now. Look at them.”
I followed her gaze. Constance and Elizabeth were slumped in their chairs, dark circles under their eyes.
“Well, learning how to work hard for the first time in their lives can’t be easy.”
“Martha! Don’t be mean.” Felicity was still frowning, looking at the other girls. “I think they’re working them too hard.”
I shrugged. I didn’t care one way or the other what Constance and Elizabeth were doing. A little hard work would do them good.
-
Deirdre Warner came into class the next day white as a sheet and dragging her leg behind her. The other girls were full of questions.
“Deirdre,” Felicity whispered once Mr. Montgomery had left the room to collect something. “Are you alright? You look terrible.”
Deirdre sat ramrod-straight, her eyes very large in her thin, pale face. “I’m fine,” she said, so quiet that I had to strain to hear her.
“How’d you hurt your leg?” Felicity asked.
“What?”
“Your leg.” Felicity nodded at it. “You’re limping.”
Deirdre swallowed. “I-“
Just then, Mr. Montgomery re-entered the room. He saw Deirdre’s open mouth. “Deirdre Warner!” he snapped. “How dare you speak out of turn! That’s another hour of extra tutoring for you tonight.”
Deirdre looked as though she’d been slapped. “Sorry,” Felicity whispered once Mr. Montgomery’s back was turned again. Deirdre didn’t look at her.
-
Soon after, more pupils began acting up. This was annoying, because concentrating in class was difficult when everyone was misbehaving.
It started with Eleanor Connor, who fainted while reciting her French essay and had to be carried away. Then there was Mallory Phillips, who started screaming during a Chemistry test when a row of stitches opened up on her arm. Marlene Barnes had a fit in first period, frothing at the mouth while her eyes rolled back as if she was demented.
It came to a head when Leah Wong got an explosive nosebleed during English class. She stood up, blood dripping in a scarlet spurt over her hands, while Mr. McCollough shouted at her.
“Out! Get out, you disgusting girl! That’s another week of tutoring for you!”
Once class finished, Leah’s nosebleed was all anyone could talk about. “I can’t believe Mr. McCollough called her disgusting,” Felicity said, bowing her head closer to mine so she wouldn’t be heard.
“Well, it was pretty disgusting.”
“It’s not like she could help it. All the girls going to extra tutoring have fallen sick. Haven’t you realised?”
I went still. “Don’t start rumours like that.”
“They’re not rumours, they’re true. All those girls are acting weird now. You haven’t noticed? They’re pale, they’re jumpy, they all look terrible—”
Felicity stopped. Standing over us was Ms. Verity. “I think we should have a little talk in my office, Miss Blythe,” she said. “It’s about your grades.”
Felicity swallowed. She looked at me, but I suddenly found it hard to meet her gaze. I looked up at Ms. Verity instead. Her smile felt like a benediction.
-
Two weeks later, I was called into Ms. Verity’s office.
"Martha, dear? Could you come in here for a moment, please?"
My heart jumped. There's a specific way Ms. Verity says your name when she's pleased with you. Martha, like she was savouring a boiled sweet. Martha, I'm proud of you. Martha, you've worked hard. Martha, I think you'll really succeed. All my worries were gone, then, when she said my name.
"I understand, Martha, that there have been some silly rumours flying around," Ms. Verity said. "I also understand that your friend Felicity has fallen sick. My condolences.”
I waited until it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else. “Thank you, Ms. Verity.”
“I want to stress that it is vital for you to keep your sights set on what is important. We do not want your performance to be negatively affected if you can't separate your personal life from your studies."
My heart began to beat faster. My grades hadn't slipped, but perhaps Ms. Verity had noticed something I hadn't? I mustn't have been working hard enough. If I had, it would've spoken for itself. "No, Ms. Verity. Of course not."
"Good." She patted my shoulder. "You're one of our best students, Martha, and we wouldn't want you distracted by anything. Not when your exams are coming up."
Ms. Verity paused to pour me some tea. I let my eyes wander. I’d always liked Ms. Verity’s office: the map on the wall with the pins stuck in it, the framed picture of her husband on the desk. Behind her, though, were some new shelves. On each of the shelves were a set of jars filled with something murky that I couldn’t make out. The labels read, BROWN. PHILLIPS. CONNOR. When I turned back to Ms. Verity, she was looking at me.
"Yes, Ms. Verity," I said. And then, "I won't let anything distract me. I understand that I must represent the school. My studies come first."
Ms. Verity's smile widened. She had a refined, elegant smile, the kind that made me feel weak at the knees with relief. When Ms. Verity smiled at you, you knew you'd done well. You didn't have to worry about anything as long as she was pleased with you.
"You're a sensible girl, Martha. I know you'll do us proud."
"Yes, Ms. Verity. Thank you." I walked out of her office, closing the door behind me. I didn't dawdle, and I didn’t ask Elizabeth Adams if she was alright when I saw her crying outside the dorms. I just headed straight to the common room, where I sat down and did my work. It was important, above all, to concentrate. I wouldn't let anything distract me.
-
There are certain responsibilities that come with being a Head Girl. I would know, since I am one. First of all you must be good at keeping secrets. St. Edmund’s is exclusive. St. Edmund’s is a privilege. When I see someone disrespecting that privilege – complaining about the school, or the army men, or the tutoring – it’s my duty to report it.
Ms. Verity says I’m the best pupil they’ve ever had. I don’t cause trouble. I don’t let things slide. I’m efficient, and that’s what St. Edmund’s runs on. Efficiency.
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