The Rest Is History | ✓

04 | the game

Archer Woods was going to die.

Archer Woods was going to die a very slow, painful death at my hands, which were itching to throttle him right now, but I just couldn't. Because of a stupid, stupid game.

"Vivian, you don't do it like that! Headmaster clearly said the notices will be put up on the board of the first floor hall, not second floor. Let me do it, here."

I grit my teeth in an attempt to calm myself down. This was going to be harder than I imagined.

"Archer," I smiled, as fakely as I could, "Mr Richards told us to put up the notices in the second floor, alright. But if you feel you're right, then go ahead, by all means. Meanwhile I'll just head over to the Headmaster's office to see who's right."

I could see he was trying his best not to glare at me but at the last minute he grinned. "Okay then, Vivian, whatever you say. If you say second floor, then second floor it is."

I grew a bit suspicious of his sudden concession. Despite our bet I would never have imagined he would give in so quickly, unless...unless he had something up his sleeve.

I couldn't shout at him. I would just have to watch out.

°

Bloomwood was an elite school, in every sense of the word. Almost all the students here were incredibly wealthy, except a handful who were on a scholarship (but they had enough brains to make up for it). Beth was the only friend I had who was a scholarship student. She was remarkable at mathematics and music, both, which is how she got in.

The rest of us were all quite intelligent, if I may say so myself, but I knew it wasn't only our intelligence which had got us a place at Bloomwood. Angie's parents owned a chain of restaurants in England, Kate's parents were both entrepreneurs and mine? Well, my mum was a fashion designer based in London and my dad was a businessman.

We all came from wealthy families and had always lived in comfort, but we were all taught not to have any airs about it. All three of us were brought up in such a way that we would be able to adjust to any condition, however different it may be from our usual one. Maybe that's why all three of us became such close friends: we could relate to each other in many ways.

Archer's parents, on the other hand, were sportspeople. His mum used to be a professional tennis player and had recently retired and his dad was an ex footballer who was now on the board of directors at Arsenal. Maybe that's why he was so good at both the sports. But don't tell him I said it, of course.

Moving on, Bloomwood was a school where you could learn anything and everything, from the sciences to the arts to tennis, football, rugby and horseriding. The teaching staff was excellent and the facilities were top notch, and it had a rich history of producing brilliant alumni. Which is why it had gained such a reputation for itself in all these years.

I had been here since first form, and to say I loved this school would be an understatement. I would do anything to uphold its honour and make it proud.

These are the exact words I was writing in my Head Girl's report for the Christmas issue of the school journal, when Archer strolled into the study.

I looked up from my laptop. "You're late."

"To what?"

"To come to the study."

"God, Vivian, can't I stay five minutes without listening to you grumble about nothing?"