Bookshelf Boy

five.

TROUBLE. I'VE GOTTEN myself into trouble, I decide, as I make my way to Dr. Hatherall's office Friday afternoon. She doesn't try to hide her surprise when I walk in—it's less than half an hour before the bi-weekly student council meeting is supposed to start.

"Nora," she acknowledges, looking up from a stack of papers before glancing down at her watch. "Cutting it a little close, aren't we?"

Which I think is fair enough. She said we needed to tell her if we wanted to be Head student by the end of day at 3. It's 2:59. Not the best way to start as Head Girl.

"Er, yeah, sorry about that," I fumble, searching desperately for an excuse, "my class ran later than I thought."

This is a lie. I was nervously pacing the corridors to procrastinate coming here until I legitimately couldn't anymore, but she doesn't need to know that. I've been replaying Lottie's conversation in my head on a loop, and each time I don't know whether to knock myself in the head or pat myself on the back. I don't know if any of this is a good idea—if I've found the magic key to setting myself up for future success—or if this is all a tremendous mistake I've made all because I feel bad for the girl. None of that matters, I guess. It's too late to back out now.

If she notices my flub, she doesn't say anything about it as she takes off her reading glasses and sets them in front of her. "So, I take it you've decided to be Head Girl."

"Yes!" I say a little too loudly. "I mean yes, if that's...if that's okay still?"

"Have a seat."

I sit.

And that's when I notice the manila folder with Head Girl written across in black ink. There's only one of them, which means whoever's Head Boy must've come and taken theirs already. Eden must've told Dr. Hatherall right away to pass it onto the next person with the second highest marks. I wonder who it could be.

Dr. Hatherall's voice brings me out of my thoughts. "Being a Head Girl is a tremendous duty I'm entrusting you with, given that your grades reflect your dedication to this school." She opens the folder and slides it to me. "These are all of the responsibilities and expectations I expect you to uphold. I have full belief that you won't disappoint?"

She poses this as a question like she's actually not sure at all if I'll be a total disappointment. I stare down at the open folder. There are at least thirty pages here. The top page reads Prempton Academy's 2024-2025 Academic & Student-Allocated Budget.

I can feel a headache coming on.

"Er...right."

Twenty minutes, a detailed lecture on all the tasks I have as Head Girl, and a full-blown migraine later, I leave Dr. Hatherall's office with my folder in hand and walk down the hallway to Room 312, which is where student council meets twice a week. I squeeze my eyes and rub at my temples, cursing under my breath.

When I look up again, I'm more than surprised to see a familiar figure right outside of the classroom. Eden's leaned against the locker. One of his hands is in his pocket, and the other is holding a beige manila envelope.

That can't be right, I think. As I draw closer though I realise there's no mistake about it—he has the same folder as me, which can only mean he didn't hand over the role to someone else.

My suspicions are only confirmed when he clips, "You're late," in lieu of a greeting. "Are you trying to ruin your reputation as Head Girl this quickly, or does that just come naturally?"

So snubby.

His insult, however, flies right over my head. I stare at him, befuddled. Did he not speak of being Head Boy like it was the last thing he'd ever do on Earth just a few days ago? Why is he suddenly standing here like it's the most natural thing in the world? "You're here," I state, baffled. "Why are you here?"