THURSDAY 14 NOVEMBER
The lesson before lunch is History again. By the time I reach the classroom, Ella’s already there and I see she’s put her bag on my seat.
‘It’s taken,’ she says, not looking at me.
My hand’s still on the chair but I don’t dare sit down. Other people are staring now. I hear someone whisper my name. Then Max comes in, hair on end, and flops down into his seat.
‘You don’t have to stand on my account, Alice,’ he says. Then he sees Ella’s bag. ‘Like that, is it?’
‘She’s sitting somewhere else,’ Ella mutters.
But there isn’t anywhere to sit. Everyone’s in their seats now. Mrs Copeland’s got her back to us as she wipes the board clean. Any second the lesson will start.
Max leans towards Ella, then swipes her bag from the chair.
‘Hey!’ she squeals, grabbing at it.
Mrs Copeland spins round.
‘Sit!’ Max hisses to me.
I slide into my seat, very aware of Ella bristling beside me.
As soon as the lesson starts, though, it’s easier to block her out. Mrs Copeland turns the lights down and shows us black-and-white newsreel of soldiers coming home from the First World War. They’re walking through a city that might be London. I’m struck by how young they look: some can’t be much older than us. People watch on the pavements, in windows, on balconies, waving hankies or hats in the air. It’s a cold winter’s day, judging by how wrapped up everyone is and how when they speak steam puffs from their mouths. Also the trees are bare; it’s funny but I’m starting to notice things like that.
Afterwards, Mrs Copeland asks us about difficult things we’ve faced: an argument, a disappointment or something we’ve lost.
‘When you’re going through a bad time, what helps get you by?’ She scans the room for someone to ask. I keep my eyes down so she can’t pick me.
‘Eating chocolate!’ someone says.
We all laugh. Mrs Copeland nods enthusiastically. ‘Why do people eat chocolate?’
‘Because it tastes nice?’ says the same student.
‘It takes your mind off the bad stuff,’ adds Ella.
‘Good,’ says Mrs Copeland. ‘How else might you cope with a difficult time in your life?’
Max’s hand goes up. ‘You focus on it ending and life going back to normal again.’
‘Exactly! Excellent, Max! Think of those soldiers writing home during the war. It kept their spirits up, kept them hoping they’d go back home and get on with the lives they’d left behind. But sadly, for many, it wasn’t like that. In the time they’d been away fighting, life had changed.’
She tells us to put today’s date in our books and the title ‘November 1918: How Life at Home Had Changed’. We have to list all the changes we can think of: I come up with women doing men’s jobs, like in factories and stuff, because the men were away fighting. Ella’s page is already filling up with a mind map. When she sees me looking, she hides it with her hand. She keeps it up all lesson. She’ll talk to Max but if I speak she pretends she hasn’t heard me.
By the time the lunch bell rings, I’ve gone from upset to angry. Already today I’ve been told off for forgetting to do last night’s homework. I’ve never been late with any homework before. I actually like the routine of it, the fact that it’s boring and normal. And now I’ve not done my maths or French, I feel almost shaky. What I don’t need is grief from Ella as well.
It’s not my idea to cut down Darkling Wood. Left to me I’d keep the trees and try to find another way to protect the house. But what Nell’s doing isn’t a crime; she’s just trying to stop tree roots destroying her house.
As we leave the lesson, Ella nudges Max.
‘See you in the canteen?’ She’s clearly forgiven him for the bag incident. ‘I’m just going to the IT room to print something.’
‘Sure. Alice and I’ll go ahead and get a table.’
Ella pulls a ‘yuk’ face. I’m thinking the same. I want to eat lunch without someone scowling at me over their chips.
‘See you later. I’m fine on my own,’ I say, shouldering past them both.
Once I’ve got my food, I find an empty table by the window. No one else takes the other free seats; I must have ‘new person’ disease. Either that or every student here is what Nell calls an eco-warrior, though most are dropping litter on the floor. When I check my phone for messages, there’s nothing new from home. The battery’s low anyway, so I stuff it back in my bag and try not to think about Lexie or Theo, who I’d give a million pounds just to see.
Looking up, I notice Max weaving his way between the tables. People wave at him, offer him a seat, but he’s heading straight for me.
He drops into the chair opposite and stares at my half-eaten lunch. ‘So they really do sell healthy food here.’
‘I think it’s pretending to be a salad.’
Max grins. His eyes go all twinkly brown, which makes me feel a bit better. It occurs to me then that he might know Flo – he certainly knows most people round here.
‘Does a girl called Flo go to this school?’ I ask. ‘She’s probably in our year group. Light brown hair, quite skinny, wears weird clothes?’
Max pulls a thinking face.
‘She could be a Traveller,’ I add.
‘Ella might know her, I suppose.’
I go quiet.
Max grins. ‘What happened to your tie?’
I untuck the crumpled end of it from my jumper. It looks a right state. ‘The dog chewed it.’
‘Ah, that old excuse,’ says Max. ‘Teachers never believe it, even when it’s true.’
‘But it is true! I swear on my …’ I stop myself mentioning Theo, though he’s the first person that comes into my head. Instead, I pick up my fork and jab at a tomato.
‘Sir told us about your brother,’ says Max. He’s not grinning any more.
‘Us?’
‘Ella and me.’
I squish the tomato flat on the plate.
‘Ella’s okay really,’ he says. ‘She’s just very into conservation stuff. It makes her a bit … well … single-minded.’
‘But I don’t want the woods cut down either. That’s what’s so stupid – it’s pointless taking it out on me.’
‘It’s just her way. Don’t take it personally.’
I look at Max. He’s defending his friend and I like him for it, though I’m still wary of Ella.
Out in the corridor the end-of-lunch bell rings. We get to our feet.
‘English next,’ says Max. ‘You can sit with me if you want.’
‘Thanks.’
I’ve not had a boy as a friend since preschool. I can’t wait to tell Lexie later – she’s bound to want all the details.
As we go out into the corridor, I stick close to Max because I don’t know the way to English. There’s not much room to move. A crowd of people are staring at a noticeboard on the wall. We manage to squeeze past but then Max stops dead. I almost walk straight into the back of him.
‘Oh no,’ he says. ‘She hasn’t.’
‘What?’
‘It’s my fault. I’m an idiot. I told her what your grandmother was up to and I shouldn’t have.’
‘Don’t be daft – Ella already knew,’ I say, yet something in his voice makes my stomach twist. ‘What’s everyone looking at?’
Max doesn’t answer. He grabs my sleeve and tries to rush me up the nearest stairs. But not before I see the posters. There are tons of them, A4-sized on bright green paper, stuck all over the noticeboard on top of the football team lists or whatever was there before. In big purple letters are the words:
And something else underneath about a meeting.
My hand covers my mouth. This must be Ella’s work. I don’t know if I’m going to laugh or cry. But despite what Max said, I do take it personally.