Chapter 19

Chapter 19

There must have been a mistake because none of it made sense. I couldn't have been communicating with Rob West.

Rob West couldn't possibly think I was "cute" or any of those other (really sensitive) things the letter said. Rob West wasn't even into books – he attended English in the most reluctant and sporadic of ways, doubtless only taking A level thinking it would be a doss compared to maths or chemistry or something – had he ever even been in the library?

Everyone is wrong about me…

Yeah, but not that wrong, surely?

I don't do much smiling these days…

Well, OK, no, you don't, but then—

I'm sorry I didn't show, I couldn't.

Because you were given detention and sent to see Mrs Prenton… Ha! So then you were here during lunch, which means you couldn't have seen me sitting on the bench, so—

I glanced through the office window and froze. Mrs Prenton had a fantastic view of the whole yard – doubtless designed so she could keep eyes on everyone. Standing where I was now, you had a direct line to the bench I had been sitting on. He could have seen.

No, wait, it couldn't have been, because I'd established one of the notes had to have been written during Friday afternoon supervised private study, and I'd been in there myself, I'd seen who was in that class, and Rob hadn't been…

Except he was known for bunking off lessons. He wasn't in the class because he hadn't turned up and I hadn't accounted for that possibility.

I glanced at Rob.

Just … no. Not possible. He wasn't gay.

He didn't seem at all gay.

Expectations.

What was gay, anyway?

I knew nothing.

Nothing.

About anything.

Rob wasn't looking back; he was staring straight at Mrs Prenton, stony faced, frozen, almost like a soldier.

Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe Rob wasn't Mystery Boy. Maybe Rob loved gardening and he did take the book out legitimately thinking it was about flowers.

"Eyes front, Jamie," Mrs Prenton said.

I felt my cheeks heat up in a flash.

"So who's going to tell me what Wildflowers of Great Britain is really about?" she continued.

Neither of us spoke.

"I have plenty of time," she said. "Robert? Let's start with you."

"I've no idea about the book. I don't even remember taking it out," he said flatly and without hesitation.

Mrs Prenton nodded. "And yet you did take it out because there's a record of it on the library system."

"I lost my card for a while. Maybe someone else used it," he replied.

I mean, if that wasn't true, then shit, he was a good liar.

"A remarkable coincidence," Mrs Prenton said. "Meanwhile, you, Jamie, claim you did take it out, but never read it?"

I nodded.

"So then, why would you be frantically talking with Mrs Carpenter about taking the book out and trying to find out who else had taken it out?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rob flinch.

Meanwhile, I was clearly fucked.

"Sorry," Rob said. "I honestly can't understand what the problem is here. It's a book. It's just a book."

Mrs Prenton gave a smug little laugh. "By all accounts, and despite the misleading title, it's a book riddled with homosexuality and a deeply inappropriate relationship between two teenage boys."

"And?" Rob said.

"And, Robert, an easily led young person reading that sort of trash might be persuaded into thinking such a thing was a good idea. They might be seduced into a sordid lifestyle leading to god knows what. As a school, we have a duty of care to protect all of you from dangerous ideas like that."

Rob shrugged. "I thought school was about exploring ideas."

"Ideas, Robert, not perversions. And this isn't a debate. It's the law. I'm sure you've heard of section 28 – your father will have voted for it."

"What's section 28?" I muttered.

"Legislation banning books featuring gay characters from schools," Rob replied matter-of-factly. I stared at him, trying to compute what he'd said. There was a law banning gay books? Really? "And yes, my father was a big supporter," he continued.

I can't ever be who I am…

"You do know, Robert. Of course you do. So you understand the problem here?"

"Not really, because like we said, neither of us has read it," Rob said, his voice calm. How was he managing it? "But … you have?"

My mouth fell open a bit. Did he have a death wish? Rob wasn't showing the slightest bit of fear. He was staring Mrs Prenton out.

Her mouth twisted. "The book found its way into the hands of a boy in the third year, who, I'm told, showed it to his friend. His friend was understandably upset, and shocked, and told his mother about what he'd read. The mother contacted the school this morning."

"So no one's read the book?" Rob said.

"The mother assures me it's pornographic and certainly illegal."

Rob frowned. "Oh, I see. The mother assures you."

"Yes, Robert," Mrs Prenton said, giving him a cruel smile. "But I don't need her assurances because I have it here!" She produced the book from the drawer of her desk, waving it in front of us, like the finale of a magic trick. "I'm a busy woman, gentlemen. I have a governors' meeting this afternoon and a Rotary Club dinner tonight. I don't have the time, or inclination, to read this sort of filth. But I don't need to, do I? When you could just tell me."

"We've never read the book!" Rob said, incredulous.

"Oh, Robert, I'm sorry if I wasn't clear – I don't believe a word you say. I'm not surprised by you, we all know your history, but just because your father is an MP doesn't make you immune to consequences." She turned to me. "You, Jamie, I am surprised by. I thought better of you. I thought your future was bright. Perhaps I was wrong." She sniffed dismissively and placed the book back in her desk drawer. "Why don't you have a think about what's best to do? If you just admit it, and perhaps give me some idea if anyone recommended this book to you – especially if that person is a staff member, as that could really be putting our students in danger – we could come to an arrangement that didn't involve me having to telephone your parents and telling them you've been reading homosexual pornography. I have my suspicions about who is ultimately behind this, of course, but I need proof. No reason why you two should take all the blame, is there? After all, maybe you're both victims in all this too. Take twenty-four hours to examine your conscience. Now get out, both of you."