“I hope you do. I won’t tolerate another death on these premises.”

  She nodded quickly. The statement sounded as though he was blaming her. But that was ludicrous. Why would he blame her for what happened to Natasha?

  “Good,” he cleared his throat. He straightened his back, giving Annie the trademark Defoe stare. It was piercing - unnerving - and brindled with a mixture of emotions yet devoid of any warmth. A curious look.

  “You may return to class. Music, isn’t it?” He quipped.

  “I... How did you -”

  He lifted the corners of his mouth in what appeared to be a smile but without the sincerity.

  “I wouldn’t be doing my job very well if I didn’t know the classroom schedules now, would I?”

  “Right,” she chuckled weakly.

  “Run along,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  Annie quickly walked past, hurrying along until she reached the corridor. Her arms shivered. It wasn’t unusual for a headmaster to check up on their students. But she had wondered why Mr Lyle had even mentioned her at all.

  Her first bout of detention was today. With the Barons.

  Sighing, she headed up the stairs until she reached the music room in the corner. A warm sunlight illuminated the grand, airy room. Some students were already seated as they watched her trail in.

  “I’m so so-”

  “No need. They informed me you were with the headmaster. Take a seat, Annie.” Ms Femi nodded.

  Ms Femi was a kind woman; she saw a lot of herself in Annie, and that probably explained why she took it easy on her during the classes. Where other students were criticised for their lack of focus, Ms Femi never seemed to find that problem with Annie Howell. Smart, studious and quiet; she was a teacher’s dream.

  There were only a handful of students who had selected music as one of their subjects. She noticed that Theo Hamlish was one of them.

  He watched her with a light interest. No malice. No vicious itch for revenge. He merely watched Annie as though he saw a bird fly across the sky.

  Well, she would not run away. Not this time.

  Feeling brave, and a little stupid, Annie headed over to an empty chair next to Theo. He gently raised his eyebrows in surprise. But her boldness wasn’t unwelcome.

  “Okay, so if everyone could bring out their song sheets and share those with your partner. We can assess your symphonies through peer review - ask your partner questions. Why did they write this? What inspired them? What will be their instrument?” Ms Femi said.

  “I could think of a few things,” a spotty boy called Max winked. Ms Femi rolled her eyes.

  “If we could behave appropriately, Max, that would be marvelous.”

  The class - all twelve of them - began chatting quietly, a light murmur echoing in the walls. Annie gave a tentative stare to Theo, raising her eyebrow.

  “Do I need to explain to you why I don’t have my song sheets?” She said sarcastically.

  Theo itched his head, chuckling nervously. “S’pose not.”

  “Oh, no, don’t feel nervous because of me. It’s not like you deliberately destroyed my song sheets or anything -oh wait! That’s right, you did,” Annie said bluntly.

  “If it helps, it’s nothing personal,” he grinned.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Okay, maybe it is! But it’s all James here. Not saying that I’m disagreeing with him... well, I wouldn’t exactly say I agree with him either.”

  “Is that an apology?”

  “No.”

  “If it was, it’d be a terrible one.”

  “Noted.”

  Both of them fell into a comfortable silence. Realising that the task was for them to work together, Theo cleared his throat. “I can - uh - show you my song sheets, if you like.”

  “I don’t really have a choice.”

  “I’ll think you like it,” he winked.

  “Why? Is your melody ‘Return of the Valkyries’ or ‘Funeral March’?” She mumbled under her breath.

  It impressed him. “So, you got a funny side to you. I like that. I like it when you flirt with me.”

  “I-I beg your pardon!” She whispered. She had hoped nobody had heard their conversation. “Will you keep your voice down?”

  “It’s okay, darling; I won’t tell James,” his eyes twinkled with mischief. Handsome eyes, mind you. The kind that seduced you to rob a bank without a care in the world.

  “Why on earth would you think I would ever try to flirt with you?” She said, flabbergasted.

  “Rude. I’m offended.”

  “Creep.”

  “Ooh, you’re mean too,” he smiled.

  “Not as mean as your friends. Can’t take the Barons’ crown though, that’s all yours.”

  “Now I see it,” he mused to himself.

  “See what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dear god, spit it out. You’ve said it - deliberately, mind you - and you know I won’t rest until you tell me so just... spit it out.”

  Theo smiled to himself, the soft, boyish grin taking over his features. “I get why James is infatuated with you. It’s quite touching, really.”

  That threw her off. Did he just say...

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Annie scoffed. “Give me those song sheets, Theo.”

  He handed them over, but he kept that amused, curious look on his face, resting his head on his hand as he watched her. She became flustered often. It was amusing to watch.

  “Your song sheets - they’re good. The tone is... melancholic. I like -”

  “He does like you, you know. I’m sure of it,” Theo drawled.

  “ - it’s touching and haunting at the same time. I’ll let Ms Femi -”

  “I’ve known James since we were kids and he’s never paid this much attention to a girl-”

  “As I was saying -”

  “-before, I mean it’s pretty touching -”

  “Okay, enough!” Annie growled. She glared at Theo, while also keeping her eye out for Ms Femi. She didn’t want to run afoul of another person on her second day.

  From the look on Theo’s face, however, it didn’t seem like it fazed him.

  “Sorry, babe, did I go too far?”

  “How about you went ‘nonsensical’ and ‘delusional’?”

  “I’ll bet money on it. James likes you.”

  “Is this another prank of yours?” Annie rolled her eyes. She refused to buy into it. It was a ruse. Nothing more.

  “Hardly,” he snorted. “You really think James is going to admit that he likes you? James Knightley?”

  “Because it’s not true.”

  “Whatever you say,” he sang.

  Annie released a frustrated grunt. “What on earth makes you think he even has any inkling of affection, despite the violent and psychotic tendencies he has shown towards me? Hm?”

  He sighed. “He’s not a bad guy, Annie.”

  “He’s not a good one, either.”

  “That’s true. He’s not.” Theo’s face changed, casting a mist of serious thought. “But his heart -”

  “He has a heart?”

  “Annie.”

  “Okay, fine, whatever,” she mumbled.

  “His heart is there. In the right place, I mean. He’s...- look, once you know him like I do, you don’t always see the monster he portrays.”

  “Portrays?” Annie scoffed. “Give me a break; you guys enjoy tormenting people like me. Don’t pretend that you’re all just a group of helpless, tormented young boys who are just trying to do the right thing. You don’t get to make me pity people like you. Do you understand that?” She turned back to the song sheets, her furious gaze latched onto the scribbled lines.

  Theo’s gaze flittered over her curly brown hair to the outline of her nose. Annie bristled. She could feel his stare.

  “What?” She barked.

  “You ever wonder why you had a quiet high school experience?” He blurted.

  Annie’s eyebrows crumpled in confusion. Memories of her high school years flooded through her consciousness, overwhelming her with the shades of sadness and aching loneliness; she had no-one. In the five years of high school, she had no-one to talk to. Not a single friend. And she honestly didn’t know how she survived. At all.

  But Theo’s words stomped on her memories. What did he mean... a quiet high school experience?

  “I don’t follow,” she said.

  “Think, Annie,” he urged. “Did you experience the treatment you’re going through now? Hm? The Barons’ wrath - you’ve heard about it and you’ve surely seen it. Did you suffer? Did you become the target? The victim. That’s what I’m getting at.”

  “Like the way I am now?”

  “Yes,” he said seriously.

  “Well... I… I don’t think so.”

  “There’s your answer.”

  “But that means nothing.”

  “Yes, it bloody does,” he grimaced. “It bloody does.” Theo took the song sheets from Annie’s numb hands, reading the symphonies he composed. “It’s a funny thing - feelings. No matter how hard you push it down, it always screams back inside your mind. I should bloody know.”

  Annie looked at him tentatively, unsure of the meaning behind his words. She had a feeling that we’re talking about James anymore.

  “Is there someone you have... feelings for?”

  God, what was she doing?

  “Had,” he corrected.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m…”

  “Don’t say you’re sorry. Because then we’ll be friends and that’s not something I think you’re ready for,” he glanced at her with amusement.

  “Would that be so terrible? It’s not like I enjoy being an outsider.”

  “No, I suppose not,” he bowed his head. “But it’d be a betrayal if we’d developed a friendship before James develops -”

  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

  He chuckled quietly, considering Annie’s stiff pose.

  The amusement simmered down from his face. The appearance of solemnity overtook him again.

  “Barcourt is not the place to make friends, Howell. The only thing you’ll make here allies and enemies. That’s something you can count on.”

  “What about the Barons? Aren’t you friends?”

  “Oh, that doesn’t count darling,” he drawled, stretching his legs. “We’re the exception.”

  “How sweet,” she said bluntly. “I’m sure you’ve braided each other’s hair and made beaded friendship bracelets.”

  “Something like that. Although I prefer blood pacts. Much more potent and dramatic.”

  Annie recoiled, grimacing. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”

  “If you like.”

  She exhaled. “I’m still the outsider.”

  “I suspect that’ll change. Sooner than you think.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I’m not joking,” he grinned widely. His boyish grin was on full display. “You won’t be the outsider anymore. Not if James has anything to say about it.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Have you lost your mind?” Tristan baulked.

  “Have you lost yours?” James barked.

  They were both standing outside in the fields, trying to cool off. Jasper sat on the bench, silently watching his two best friends.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  James clicked his tongue. Unbridled rage simmered beneath his stoic mask; the flashbacks of Tristan smiling softly at Annie, both of them talking as if they were old friends, the look he gave her in the hall. He couldn’t understand. Annie was nothing to them. An absolute nobody. Yet, she kept popping up in the most random places. She wouldn’t leave his mind. And that was the most atrocious thing of all.

  Who did she think she was?

  But something else bothered him. Her sad, kind eyes that haunted him. Those eyes brimming with glossy tears.

  Why couldn’t he just crush her like a bug?

  James gave an empty laugh. The expression wrinkled his handsome face into one of derision. “You think I didn’t notice the way you were interrupting?”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “What’s your relationship with Howell?” He said suddenly. He looked Tristan square in the eye. “You fancy her or something? Is that it?”

  “Take an aspirin, James,” Tristan said.

  “I’m sure she’d be an interesting lay in bed,” he shrugged. “All that fire must go some-”

  “Don’t be a prick, you know it’s about that, James. Not after Natasha.”

  James stiffened. The two went silent. James’ expression softened, watching Tristan as the tension from his shoulders built up slowly.

  “I’m sorry, mate,” James said.

  “Are you?”

  “I deserved that.”

  “You know how much I fucking -” Tristan started, stopping abruptly. The words struggled to come out of his mouth. The weight of his emotions hit him smack in the chest. Natasha Fields’ death was a trauma that would haunt Tristan forever.

  “I keep seeing her,” he continued. He ran his hands through his long hair, conscious that James was watching him intently. “Every time I fall asleep, I keep... I keep seeing her face, James. She’s gone, and it’s all my fault.”

  “No, it fucking isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No -”

  “Mate, just stop,” he sighed tiredly. “We both know we didn’t help tormenting her. She didn’t deserve it.”

  “How the fuck where we supposed to know? Hm? She didn’t tell you anything about what happened when she was alive! We had to find out through her diary. How fucked up is that?”

  “How could she tell us?” Tristan growled. “We ruined her.”

  “We didn’t do shit,” James scoffed angrily. “We weren’t the ones that ruined her and you know that. Don’t you fucking forget it? Understand?”

  Tristan remained silent, his gaze latched onto something faraway in the distance. He did that a lot. Zoned out. Lost focus on conversation. Almost as though he wanted to be anywhere else. Anywhere but his own body.

  “We have a job to do, Tristan.”

  “I know.”

  “The only thing you need to focus on is the Barons’ mission. You got that?”

  Tristan didn’t reply.

  “Tristan?”

  “What if we never find out who did it to her? What if we never find him?”

  “That will not happen, mate. You hear me? A Baron never fails. The sooner you remember that, the better.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The first evening of detention and Mr Lyle wanted to eat his own hand. It was torture. Detention with the Barons.. He realised he was in way over his head having the two Barons sitting in his classroom, glaring daggers into his skull.

  Jasper leaned against his chair, sitting as though it was his throne. James was resting his head on his hand, looking at Mr Lyle as though he was nothing but a rat.

  “I’d watch the way you’re staring, Rashford. And you too, Knightley.”

  “It’s not a crime to stare, sir,” Jasper lifted his eyebrow, taunting him.

  “It is when I can read the message behind your eyes, Rashford.”

  “Ooh, sir, I didn’t know you could read palms and shit.”

  “It’s a nice side hustle, Lyle,” James snorted.

  “Mr Lyle to you, Knightley,” he countered.

  James gave him an arrogant smile, lifting the corners of his mouth. A smirk that screamed defiance. He didn’t care. The sound of the doors slamming open broke the men out of their staring match. Annie had barged in, completely out of breath.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr Lyle. I was held up at music,” she rambled.

  Mr Lyle’s expression softened. “That’s fine, Annie. Please sit.”

  She nodded gratefully. Her eyes caught the two Barons sitting in the middle of the classroom, watching her quietly. Jasper glanced at her in faint boredom and irritation. God knows what his deal was.

  Her instincts flared, willing her to fight or run.

  James’ eyes burned into her skin, flaming her cheeks to a bright red. His eyes brightened at her arrival, almost glistening in anticipation. A dangerous anticipation.

  Annie inhaled deeply.

  Breathe in. Courage in.

  Breathe out. Fear out.

  She walked down the aisles, taking the seat at the far corner near the window. Settling her bag on the table, she took out her books, willing herself to stay focused on her homework. Maybe if she kept busy, this punishment would end sooner rather than later.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Jasper and James whisper to each other. Mr Lyle was distracted with his phone.

  Forget it, Annie.

  Her mind latched onto the words of her French textbook, but the letters jumbled in her brain. Nothing made sense. Something distracted her.

  It was those boys.

  Trying to concentrate in their presence?

  Good luck with that.

  “Hey, Mr Lyle,” James said swiftly.

  Mr Lyle sighed. “Yes?”

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “No,” he quipped.

  “It’s a basic human right.”

  “Not in my classroom.”

  Annie looked up, her eyebrows etched in surprise. She glanced at the Barons who were looking at Mr Lyle with a serious expression.

  “I’m sure playing with your phone is a constructive use of school time,” James said.

  Mr Lyle exhaled, straightening his shoulders. He glared at him. “Watch yourself.”

  James smiled, giving a faux shocked drop of the mouth. “Mr Lyle! Are you implying something? I don’t like your tone. It’s suspicious.”

  “It’s deserving, Knightley.”

  “That hurts, Rupert.”

  Rupert?

  That was Mr Lyle’s name?

  His face went bright crimson, bordering between embarrassment and unrestrained fury. “I beg your -”

  BEEP BEEP BEEP

  It was the security alarm. Someone had pressed the alarm.

  “Fuck sake,” Mr Lyle breathed.

  “Looks like you’re needed,” James sang.

  “Shut it,” Mr Lyle stood up, gathering his phone in his pocket. He gave the boys a firm stare. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t even think of doing anything stupid. You’re both walking on a thin floor called expulsion.”