The Betrayals by Bridget Collins

Author:Bridget Collins [Bridget Collins]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

20

Second week of Vernal Term

The second week! That’s gone quickly. I thought last term was hard work, but now … We’ve got, what, ten weeks till our games have to be in? The third-years have had the whole year to work on their games, but of course this is only a practice run for us, so we don’t get half as long. (Although I bet if we called it that in front of a Magister we’d get bawled out. We’re supposed to pretend every opportunity to play a grand jeu is sacred. Ha. It’s not as if second-years ever get a real shot at the Gold Medal.) Carfax has already drawn up a plan for his, curse him.

It’s as if the vac never happened. Almost as if we’re still working on a joint game. Carfax and I are spending nearly every evening bouncing ideas off each other. First we walked over the Bridges of Königsberg – and when I say walked over, I think we’ve been back and forth over every one of them, I feel like I could draw a map of every single street in Königsberg and I STILL CAN’T WALK OVER EVERY BRIDGE ONLY ONCE – but then when we’d finally thrashed out exactly why we both hated it, I couldn’t help asking his opinion about an article I read over the New Year. And then we didn’t finish talking about it, so the next day … etc., etc.

Something’s changed since last term. He’s changed. He laughs more.

Unless it’s me. I suppose it could be me.

Sixteenth day, I think

Struggling to think of a theme for my game. Hate this feeling. Mentioned it to Carfax and I saw him start to say something pitying. Then he bit it back. I didn’t know whether to cuff him round the head or kiss him.

For not saying it, I mean. Obviously.

Seventeenth day (assuming I was counting right yesterday)

Weird, brilliant Motuum class today. I think the Magister gets bored; every so often he does something odd, and I can never tell whether he’s teaching or ragging us. We ended up going out in the snow to practise our forms – knee-deep, stumbling about like drunks – which was odd and funny and surprisingly useful.

We hurried in at the end of the lesson, dripping, and the Magister told us to go and get dry before Cartae. I was still breathless from laughing, scuffling with Jacob and Paul. Even Emile had got into the spirit of it. Then I heard someone say, ‘Dancing about in snow isn’t my idea of the grand jeu,’ and someone else said, ‘What about water? Or fire? Hey, Carfax—’

‘Yeah, Carfax, was that what your granddad was doing? Maybe he wasn’t a raving loony, maybe he was poncing about on hot coals to practise.’

I swung round. I didn’t think. ‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘Leave him alone.’

It was Felix and Freddie. They smirked and looked at each other. Felix said, ‘We were only asking Carfax about—’

I didn’t trust myself. I grabbed Carfax’s arm and dragged him up the stairs, leaving them behind.

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