To The Grave

Chapter Four

'Ah, Tahlia. So lovely to see you.'

Principle Harris drops a folder onto her desk.

LIt slams against the ancient wood with a heavy thump and I wince at the overflowing pile, how the papers have had to be stapled a dozen times just to be held together. I narrow my eyes at it from the doorway, taking a deep breath through clenched teeth.

'So, let's take a look, shall we?

It's the same file I've seen a thousand times — in this exact spot, in this same dreary-like room. And, apart from the name Tahlia Cartwright scribbled on top, I've yet to read a single word.

I glance up at Harris, but immediately regret it. She looks furious; dark eyes blazing, lips pursed, shoulders tense. It's the same look she always gets when she looks at me, and as she gestures for me to take a seat, I know that this is the beginning of what will be a record long lecture. I take a step forward, feet light against the new mahogany floor, and pull out a chair. Harris sits back and watches me, golden eyes steady against the yellow glow of artificial light.

'When I heard the news that you were coming back,' she says slowly, measuring each word carefully, 'do you know what first came to my mind?'

I sit down in an uncomfortable chair – a chair I think Harris made purposefully to make sitting in her office feelwrong – and tighten my lips in disgust as water squelches in my shoes from the rain. A dozen answers to her question come to mind, sure, but none of them will get me far – not when her brows are furrowed like that. Instead, I look at her and smile weakly.

'That it's a good thing because it was getting boring around here?'

She doesn't smile back. 'No, Tahlia. I thought: How am I supposed to do this?'

I frown. 'How are you –'

'How am I supposed to take you in again, after all that happened?' She opens the folder, fingertips grazing the first page that lists my personal information. 'How am I supposed to look you in the eyes, knowing what happened and knowing that I had the chance to stop it?'

I grit my teeth and lower my gaze to the floor.

Twelve months, it's been.

Twelve months since I stood in this office the night of the fire, with Harris issuing my final warning. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the blue ball dress Neve picked pinching into my ribs, still smell the exquisite food drifting through the halls, still hear Harris' levelled voice contorting with barely concealed exhaustion.

One more chance, Lea. One more chance to prove everyone wrong, to show them you aren't just some hopeless kid with no route but reform school.

I'd looked at Harris then, glossed lips raising into a careful smile.

Neve was waiting outside; I could hear the click of her heels as she paced away, desperate to get to the party. My stomach had filled with a feeling I couldn't place – it felt like relief, but it'd been so long since I'd felt something good, I wasn't so sure.

Some instinctual part of me knew I'd be okay, though – that, from that point onward, I could go on with my life like normal. That I was safe.

I didn't realise how wrong I was.

'Do you know how many chances you've had?' Harris asks, pulling me back to the present, to the rain tapping against the window. 'Can you give me an educated guess, perhaps?'

I raise my eyes, trying not to pick at the skin on my thumb. For a moment, I think that maybe not replying will be best, but judging by the ongoing silence and the levelled look Harris is giving me, she's probably waiting for an answer. Waiting for me to prove her right.