RUBY
On Monday, when I get off the bus, I see James leaning against the sports field fence. He greets me with an ironic smile. After what happened a week ago in the company of his parents, I never would have believed that there would come a moment when I'd be glad to see him waiting for me in the morning.
'Hello,' I say, somewhat breathless as I stop in front of him. His smile widens. Apparently, he's also happy to see me.
'Hi.'
He glances over my face, and once again, I feel that strange sensation in my stomach. I wonder if I'd feel that flutter on my skin if he touched me like he did last Friday. I push that thought into the farthest corner of my mind.
"Will you be my escort for today?" I ask.
His smile doesn't waver even a millimeter.
"I thought we could go to the assembly together- that'd spare you from the others' questions."
With that, he nods toward the school and sets off. I run my thumbs over the straps of my backpack and follow him.
"How... how was your rest of the weekend?" I ask hesitantly.
"Well, yesterday, I had lunch with my family," he says. He doesn't say anything more. I glance at him inquisitively. He notices and his smile slowly fades away. "My Aunt Ophelia came to visit us. My father and she don't get along particularly well." The fact that he shared something such with me leaves me momentarily speechless. I didn't expect it, especially after he told me how some people they trusted had betrayed him and his sister. On the other hand, last Friday, I too had confided something about myself to him. He must have noticed how difficult it was for me. Maybe now he feels the same way I do. Perhaps he also senses that something has changed and doesn't want us to behave in a forced manner like we used to in the past.
Hope begins to stir inside me. Although I have no idea what to call what has developed between James and me... Is it friendship? Or something more? something less? Can't say I'm in much hurry to find out.
"Did they argue?" I ask.
He puts his hands in his pockets.
"Our family gatherings are never peaceful. The Beaufort Companies actually belong to my mother and her sister. But ever since my parents got married, my father has taken ownership of many things and introduced many changes to the company that bother some people, especially Ophelia," he explains.
"Does she also work for the company?" I inquire curiously.
James nods, grunting slightly.
"Yes, but she has no say when it comes to the main company. She's five years younger than my mother, and they've always kept her somewhat on the sidelines. She mostly deals with subsidiaries or companies where my parents hold shares."
I wonder what Ember would think if our parents left us an inheritance in a company where she had no say just because she's the younger of the two. It's no wonder there's tension at the Beaufort family gatherings.
"Lately, he hasn't agreed with a series of decisions, so the atmosphere was quite tense. But... it's okay. I've experienced worse family gatherings," he says, shrugging. We turn left together, heading down the path toward Boyd Hall.
A girl from my History class passes us. When she sees James and me together, her eyes widen. I grip my backpack straps tighter and swallow hard. Despite everything, I lift my chin and give her a defiant look until she turns away and hurries on.
"Hey, there's no need to be so aggressive," James says, nudging me with his shoulder.
"What am I supposed to do then? If she looks at me, I'll look back."
He steps in front of me, blocking my way.
"You're giving it too much importance. You should act like it doesn't bother you at all. Then they'll leave you alone."
Suddenly, the expression on his face changes: his eyelids droop slightly, his eyebrows relax, and the corners of his lips lift. It's his "I don't give a damn" look. He looks so arrogant that I'd so like to smack him.
"You seem like you deserve a good spanking."
"I seem like I'm actually craving a good spanking. There's a difference," he replies, pointing at me with his chin. "Now you."
I try to mimic the expression on his face.
Judging by the tremor I see in the corners of his lips, I probably don't quite nail it.
"Okay. Maybe it's enough for now. Better than glaring at everyone as if you're wishing for lightning to strike upon them."
We continue walking, and I try to take his advice seriously. However, my unease grows as we get closer to the school.
Just before the entrance to Boyd Hall, James places his hand on the back of my neck and strokes it. Only for a second. Perhaps to encourage me, but suddenly, I feel nervous for an entirely different reason. I don't know how James does it, but a single, tiny touch from him is enough to make my whole world wobble. This sensation is new to me, different, and strange. In a way, it's also beautiful.
"Beaufort!" a voice echoes behind us.
I shudder. A bunch of students pass us on their way to the assembly, maneuvering around James and me as we stop again. He turns around, and I reluctantly do the same.
Wren and Alistair climb the steps and stop in front of us.
"Hello, Ruby," Wren says, scratching the back of his head, looking almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry about Friday."
I'm not sure if he's apologizing only for the pool incident or for the way he harassed me at the beginning of the party. If I were to ask, James would find out what happened between Wren and me.
It's probably James's doing that Wren is offering his apologies, but I'm still glad he does. So I simply nod and say:
"It's okay. You weren't the one who threw me into the pool."
Wren smiles at me, surprised, as if he expected a completely different reaction.
Almost instinctively, my eyes shift to Alistair, who observes me in silence. Just a glance at his face tells me that he remembers. He remembers that I was the one who caught him and Kesh in the library. I smile at him cautiously. He doesn't respond to my smile. His lips remain thin and bloodless.
"Shall we go in?" James asks, looking at the group. We nod and ascend the last few steps.
The assembly has just begun as we arrive at Boyd Hall, discreetly finding seats in the last row. Despite that, I notice my classmates' glances directed at me as the news spreads about who is sitting next to James Beaufort this morning. One by one, heads turn toward us as Principal Lexington steps forward and praises the lacrosse team for their outstanding performance on Friday.
I dare to look at James, but his expression remains emotionless, giving no indication that the situation or the surrounding murmurs bother him. So, I swallow hard, press my lips together, and follow suit.
After the meeting, James and Wren head to their math class, while Alistair and I make our way to the Art room in the east wing. Before parting ways, James leans in and whispers to me:
"Think about and remember the spanking thing."
Although his words are entirely innocent, my cheeks flush. I ignore it and follow Alistair, who has already started walking. The tension between us persists, and I feel compelled to say something. However, no matter how well-intentioned I am, I can't find the right words.
Alistair takes matters into his own hands, stopping just before we reach the Art classroom. He pulls me aside and looks at me seriously.
"What you saw on Friday night," he begins in a hushed voice. His gaze shifts to a couple of students who have just turned the corner. He greets them with a fake smile and waits for them to pass and enter the classroom. Then he turns back to me. "You don't have to tell anyone about it. Promise me you won't."
I reply just as quietly, "Of course not."
"No, Ruby, you don't understand. You have to promise me. Swear that you won't tell anyone," Alistair insists.
"What makes you think that I would?"I reply.
Alistair hesitates, as if struggling to find the right words, and then continues, "It's just... Keshav doesn't want anyone to find out." His gaze reveals the difficulty he faces in uttering these words. Suddenly, he sheds his usual arrogant and wealthy lacrosse player persona, appearing extremely young and vulnerable.
I can't blame him. It must be uncomfortable to be with someone who wants to hide their relationship like a dark secret.
"I won't tell anyone, Alistair. I promise," I assure him.
He nods, and for a brief moment, relief flickers across his face. Then his expression changes, and he looks at me challengingly. "If I find out that you've told anyone, I'll make your life hell."
With that, he strides into the classroom without bothering to glance back at me.
The rest of the day goes better than expected. A couple of people give me odd looks and gossip behind my back, but no one dares to approach me or mention what happened on Friday. Perhaps James's morning escort had had its intended effect.
During the lunch break, I sat with Lin as usual. Everything proceeds normally until someone approaches our table.
"Is this seat taken?" Lydia Beaufort asks.
Lin and I turn our heads to look at her. She points to the chair next to Lin with her tray.
"Uh, no?" I respond, although it sounds more like a question.
Without hesitation, Lydia takes the seat across from me, places a napkin on her lap, and starts eating her pasta. Lin shoots me an inquisitive look, but I shrug, unsure of what to say. I have no idea why Lydia is here. Did James pass on the role of escort to her? Or has he decided to put into practice what he told me on Friday and not lose sight of me? I look at James, who is sitting with his friends at the other end of the dining hall. Maybe I'm mistaken, but the atmosphere among them seems less relaxed than usual.
It feels like James and Alistair are arguing heatedly, while Keshav, next to him, looks at his phone, and Wren has his eyes fixed on a book. Cyril is nowhere to be found. 'He doesn't know that I've sat with you,' Lydia says abruptly. She delicately wipes her mouth with the napkin and takes a sip from the water bottle. 'I'm here because I wanted to apologize for Friday.' 'But you didn't do anything,' I reply, astonished. 'My friends and I messed up,' she says, shaking her head. 'And is that why you're having lunch with us?' Lin asks incredulously. Lydia shrugs indifferently. 'Look at those vultures. If I sit here, they won't dare to approach.' She nods toward a group of students glancing in our direction. When they realize I've turned around, they avert their gaze and huddle together to whisper. 'And besides, I wanted to ask how you're doing,' Lydia says. I can't hide my surprise. When I think of our last conversation, I only remember her suspicious look. It didn't give me the impression that she cared about my well-being, and I inevitably wonder if my fall into the pool is the only reason she's sitting at our table. Despite that, I decide to answer honestly: 'I wish Friday hadn't happened. But I'm fine.' 'Sometimes Cy doesn't know when he's reached his limit,' I shrug. 'But I've known him since we were kids,' she continues. 'Honestly, I used to think he was fun.'
"What he did was quite the opposite of fun," Lin interrupts, looking surprised as Lydia nods in agreement. "It was really bad. And I told him so too." I raise my gaze from my soup, perplexed. "Really?" "Yes. Of course." For a while, I'm not sure what to say. Finally, I decide. "That was very kind of you. Thank you." Lydia smiles and turns back to her plate of pasta. I glance at Lin just as she looks at me. I discreetly shrug my shoulders again, and then both of us focus on our food. After a while, Lin starts recounting how her morning went, which began with her car refusing to start. At first, it feels strange to chat while Lydia is sitting next to us, but she participates in our conversation as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Eventually, I stop wondering about her ulterior motives. Maybe it's true that she just wanted to be kind and apologize to me. She wouldn't be the first of her family to surprise me. When we finish eating, I place my backpack on my lap and take out a small tin, setting it in the middle of the table. 'There are still cookies left from the weekend,' I announce, lifting the lid. 'Would you like one for dessert?' Lydia's eyes light up. 'Did you make them?' 'Uh-huh, wiith Lin and my sister,' I reply. 'Last Saturday, in our pajamas.' 'Sounds great,' she says, taking a cookie. 'Much better than my Saturday.' And she savors it. 'Oh, it's really delicious.' 'Thank you,' I smile. 'James told me you had a family visit.'
"Ah yes, it's always something... special. To be honest, I would rather have preferred spending the day in pajamas too."
I can't imagine someone like Lydia in pajamas, and when I try, I can't help but laugh. After the midday break, Lin and I head to the group room to prepare for the meeting. While I write the agenda, she distributes the brochures we just printed in the office. Then we wait for the others, who enter one after another. James sits, as always, on the seat by the window. He places his black notebook on the table in front of him and crosses his arms. This familiar sight stings because it suggests that it doesn't matter whether James and I understand each other or not. He's not here willingly. On the contrary, his presence prevents him from going to lacrosse practice, a punishment he despises.
'Ruby?' I hadn't noticed that Kieran was next to me. 'Mmm?' I murmur, looking at him. Kieran is only slightly taller than me; his black hair falls smoothly over his face, and he brushes it away with a nod. 'I wanted to ask if you have some free time after the meeting. I've found quite a variety of orchestras, and I thought I'd talk to you before selecting the final three.'
'Hold on a moment,' I mutter, pulling out my planner. I only have 'Organize Mom and Dad's birthday' scheduled.' Nothing else. 'Okay.' 'Great,' he says, smiling in relief. He returns to his seat, diagonally across from James.
James and I exchange glances, and a mocking smile appears on his lips as he observes Kieran and me. 'What?' I mouth the word. James picks up his phone. Shortly afterward, mine lights up on the table.
He likes you.
I roll my eyes and ignore him.
"Alright, everyone. Let's speed up," Lin begins the meeting and then gestures to Jessalyn, who is sitting to her right.
"I received several offers for the decoration," Jessa says, handing out printed portfolios to the group. "Thanks again for the advice, Beaufort."
I glance in surprise at James, who nods toward Jessa. Considering how often he gazes out at the sports field through the window, I never would have thought he'd get involved in something without being asked. And even less so without me knowing.
"I've sketched out a couple of invitation designs," Doug announces when it's his turn, handing a USB drive to Lin. She inserts it and opens the presentation. "The first suggestion is more classic and quite similar to last year's," Doug explains.
I observe the twisted gold letters against a black background, but before I can give my opinion, Camilla speaks up, "I thought we intended to differentiate from last year's party."
There's a murmur of agreement.
"Alright, let's move on to the second suggestion," Doug continues, gesturing for Lin to click again.
The next invitation features the vibrant colors typical of Halloween.
"It doesn't seem as elegant as I imagine a Victorian party," Kieran hesitantly expresses.
"Actually, I agree," I reply, nodding.
Lin clicks on the next proposal following Doug's guidance. A murmur spreads through the room, and I sit there feeling as stiff as a candle.
As I lean closer to the screen, squinting my eyes, the invitation design unfolds before me. It's reminiscent of aged parchment, announcing the event with ornate yet legible lettering. And there, just below the text, is a captivating image: of me and James. He's leaning towards me, gently holding my hand as if inviting me to dance.
The photograph was taken during that memorable Saturday in London. The fact that James sent it to Doug without my knowledge surprises me. I lift my gaze from the laptop screen and meet James's eyes across the room. His expression is radiant.
"The invitation is fantastic," Jessa comments after a moment. Everyone nods in agreement. "And that dress- it's simply a dream. Do you happen to have a couple more?" Jessa asks James.
He shakes his head. "I'm already surprised they let me borrow these garments."
"Doug, this invitation is marvelous," Lin chimes in, leaning closer to the large image on the screen. Then she stands up and takes a step back. "However, I think the reference details could be slightly more modern. Perhaps a different font?"
"I agree," I say, trying not to reveal my insecurity about the image. If this becomes the official invitation, my face will be displayed throughout the school, all of Pemwick!
Unfortunately, there's no room for debate-the team is thrilled, and they're already discussing whether to use the same printer as last time. I glance back at the image: James in his Victorian attire, my hand in his. The warmth of that vibrant moment floods my thoughts. For the remainder of the meeting, I dare not look at James even once.
After our meeting, Jessa, Camille, and Doug bid their farewells. As Kieran approaches me to review the orchestras on Lin's laptop, I catch a glimpse of Lin heading toward James out of the corner of my eye. She sits next to him and engages in conversation. I watch with a furrowed brow as he nods and takes notes in his notebook. Only then do I realize that Kieran is speaking to me.
"Sorry, what did you say?" I ask.
"I think this party is going to be the best we've ever organized at Maxton Hall," he repeats, smiling at me.
"It's going to be fantastic, all right. We've been planning it for so long... I can't wait to celebrate," I reply.
"Me too. That night, you have to save a dance for me without fail."
Kieran continues smiling, looking at me through his dark lashes. I swallow nervously.
"He likes you." Lin has been telling me this for months. Could she be right? Until now, Kieran was just an ambitious junior below us. I thought he was friendly because he hoped I'd nominate him as team leader for next year. It never occurred to me that he might like me.
Suddenly, I realize how close Kieran is sitting to me, our knees almost touching under the table. I shift slightly, then stop myself. It's an entirely innocent situation. Why do James's words confuse me so much?
I shoot James a furious look just as he glances at me. Unlike my fleeting gaze, his is genuinely open. I'd love to stick my tongue out at him, but I suppose that wouldn't be very mature. Instead, I turn to Kieran with a bright smile and nod.
"Of course. But first, I need to learn how to."
Kieran says, "I'll teach you during rehearsal," and I could swear I detect a slight blush on his cheeks. God! "Alright. Agreed," I respond louder than intended. Clearing my throat, I ask, "Shall we listen to the music now?"
We put on our headphones and begin reviewing the auditions from the orchestras Kieran has gathered. Then we check their rankings online and proceed with the selection.
"I think I'd propose these three to the others. It's best if you gather a few more, and we decide which one is the best on Wednesday or Friday," I suggest.
Kieran nods. "Understood."
"Great," I say, smiling as I remove the headphones. I open my agenda and grab the pink marker to jot down the tasks we've discussed today.
"You're turning eighteen this Saturday?" Kieran asks, looking perplexed.
I snap my agenda shut instantly. I try not to be obvious, but it bothers me that Kieran peeked inside. This is like my diary, not meant for prying eyes.
"Yes," I reply after a brief pause.
"And what have you planned?"
Lin chooses this moment to leave her seat next to James and join our conversation.
"Well..." She hesitates when I shoot her a warning look. At Maxton Hall, nobody cares about what I will or won't do on my birthday. It's my private life, and I don't want anyone knowing about it. "Nothing special," she finally says, pressing her lips together.
"You hadn't mentioned that you'll be an adult soon," James interjects. He raises his arms above his head and stretches. "Why haven't I been invited?"
"Because you don't know how to behave," I reply.
"Oh I'll be on my best behavior," he says, but it doesn't sound convincing at all.
Suddenly, I remember the party again- not the pool incident and everything that happened afterward, but the moment on the dance floor when I stumbled into James and felt his torso against mine. He looked at me with that insolent glint in his eyes that sends butterflies to my stomach. I need to
compose myself and remember where we are before responding.
"You're not invited, James."
"Alright." Again, it doesn't sound like he's saying "alright," but more like "we'll see about that."
Kieran stands up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We'll talk later, alright?"
I nod, and he leaves the room with a half-wave, half-high-five gesture. After stowing my agenda in my backpack and closing Lin's laptop, I slip it into its case and stand up.
"Are you guys staying a while, or can I lock up?" I ask.
James and Lin shake their heads. "We're done too."
As they gather their things, I watch them suspiciously. I want to know what they've been talking about. I hope Lin hasn't spilled the beans about my birthday plans. Even though I confided an important part of my life to James on Friday, there are things he doesn't need to know. And the fact that I want to spend my eighteenth birthday afternoon having fun with my family and Lin is one of them.
"Rutherford is crazy about you," James says after we've left the library.
"What nonsense," I reply, shaking my head.
"I think he might have a surprise in store for you," Lin chimes in, unnecessarily agreeing with him. I shoot her a murderous look.
"What? I've been trying to tell you that for years. How else does he guess all your wishes and is incredibly kind to you? It's pretty, pretty obvious."
"What do you mean it's obvious? There's nothing obvious about it. He's kind to me because I'm the team leader. He has to be kind to me."
Lin smiles and pats my arm. "Alright, let me correct that. It's obvious to everyone except you."
James chuckles under his breath, and I glare at him. I wonder what's changed between the two of them. I don't recall them ever agreeing on anything, let alone exchanging those playful glances over my head. I'm not sure I approve of this new development.
I feel almost relieved when Lin says her goodbyes with a hug and heads toward the parking lot. James insists on walking me to the bus stop.
"You're giving that poor guy false hope," he blurts out.
"What's wrong, James? You jealous?" It's the only retort that comes to mind. But when he doesn't respond and I glance at him, I see that he's stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and furrowed his brow.
"If anyone's going to teach you to dance," he warns after a brief pause, "it'll be me."
"You can't be serious," I reply, incredulous. "Are you really jealous of Kieran?"
"No." He still won't look at me. "But I don't want that guy getting false ideas."
"What kind of ideas?" I ask.
"That all it takes is flattery to make you smile. It's cheap."
I stop abruptly. "Excuse me?"
At last, he turns toward me, but I can't quite categorize the look in his dark eyes.
"What? You've never smiled at me like that," he says.
"Because until now, you haven't given me many reasons to," I reply. He stares at me for a moment, and I don't understand why he's so affected. He seems hurt, and I can't follow his reasoning. Before the tension between us escalates further, I decide to change the subject.
"Thank you for looking out for me today," I say. "Truly. No one's bothered me. If you hadn't escorted me to school and the assembly, things would probably have been different." As he remains silent, I continue, "Your sister sat with us in the cafeteria today, and..."
Suddenly, James grabs my arm and steps in front of me. I hold my breath, surprised by his intensity. I look up at him, and he appears very serious.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"What for?" I ask in a hushed voice.
"For not giving you any reason to look at me the way you looked at Kieran before."
"James..."
"I'll try to change that," he adds, staring deeply into my eyes.
I don't know what to do. My stomach feels hollow, and my knees go weak. I'm aware of his touch on my arm; I can distinctly feel the light brush through the fabric of my sweater. Goosebumps rise on my skin. The sudden urge to touch him back overwhelms me, catching me off guard. I don't know what to do. Placing my hands on his waist for support would be good. But I can't. It's not an option. Just like it's not an option for my breath to catch when he gets this close or for that flutter in my stomach every time he looks at me like this.
"My bus is here," I say, stepping away from him.
His gaze doesn't waver. I turn halfway and run, refusing to surrender to it, feeling utterly defenseless. I've never been so relieved to board the school bus before.