‘There is no need to raise your voice, Harriet,’ says Croon.
Harriet grows quiet, quieter than I have ever known her to be. Dangerously quiet. ‘If you won’t expel me, then I quit,’ she whispers.
For ten pregnant seconds, the words perch in the air.
Harriet turns on her heels.
Leaving Croon behind me, I race down the hallway after her, my school shoes skidding on the lino. I follow her down the steps and into the rose garden. Overtaking her, I do an about-face to stop her in her tracks. ‘Are you insane? You shouldn’t be doing this,’ I cry.
Harriet does nothing but stare at me fiercely.
‘You’re throwing away everything you’ve worked for!’
More fierce staring.
I wave a hand in front of her face. ‘Are you in there? Do you read me? I put myself forward so you didn’t have to! Now we’re both in the shit. You need to go back in there and retract everything before it’s too late.’
‘I didn’t do this for you,’ Harriet says.
I laugh. ‘I don’t care who you did it for. You need to undo it while you still have the chance.’
‘I did it because of you though,’ Harriet continues. Her hands are trembling. ‘Because you’re right. She won’t expel me even with a full confession because I’m an asset to the school. Which is the same reason why she won’t do a thing about Coach Hadley. I am such an idiot.’ Her tone has a hysterical ring to it.
‘Give yourself some credit, Harriet,’ I say softly. ‘You knew all this already. You just didn’t want to believe it.’
‘No, no, no,’ Harriet shakes her head. ‘You’re not allowed to be nice to me. I’m a terrible person. Terrible and clueless.’
‘You like to see the good in the world. There’s something to be said for that.’
‘No, there isn’t,’ says Harriet with a fury I’ve never seen from her, a fury directed at herself. ‘How do I make things better if I can’t even deal with the wrong that’s in front of my face? Coach Hadley and what he’s done. The bigotry of this school, of my friends, even. Of my own parents,’ she whispers.
She’s fired up, all right. I give her a moment to calm down. When her breathing has steadied, I say, ‘It’s better than being so bitter and twisted that you’ve already given up the fight.’
‘But you haven’t given up,’ says Harriet. Her voice is earnest. ‘You’ve been fighting the whole time.’
‘Not true. I’d given up until Amelia Westlake came along.’
She stares at me, hard. ‘You are so full of shit, Will Everhart.’
Did Harriet Price just swear in my face? I let out a startled laugh.
Harriet gives a small smile. It turns into a grimace. ‘I should have complained about Coach Hadley a long time ago, just like you said. I’ll never forgive myself for waiting until now.’
I shake my head. ‘We both could have done more. But we haven’t done nothing,’ I remind her.
She glances along the row of blossoming roses before turning back. She settles her gaze on me. She smiles sadly. ‘Amelia Westlake was a pretty great girl, wasn’t she?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I’m definitely going to miss her now we’re leaving the school and everything.’
‘Now I’m leaving, you mean.’
Harriet says nothing to this.
‘She was the best of both of us,’ I say, measuring my words. ‘The best of all of us, in the end. We gave her the best of ourselves. You know that, don’t you?’
I watch her eyes flicker the way rooms do in a storm. Or plane cabins. Winged tubes flashing dark, then light, balancing on tenuous currents of air – Harriet Price, trying to keep her world from falling apart.
‘I guess this is it, then,’ she says.
‘Don’t do this.’ I put a hand on her arm.
She shakes her head. ‘It’s already done.’
I watch as fury constricts her jaw line, fear drains her cheeks, hope reddens her ears. She holds my gaze. Then she steps forward and places both hands firmly on my face.
She kisses me, and I lose all my breath. Her lips are soft. Her tongue is warm in my mouth. She pulls me close, and for a moment we are indistinguishable. One skin. One crashing heart. No space between us.
In the middle of the rose garden, with our bodies pressed together, we break at least five school rules at once.
I pull back to find our borders and, upon finding them, press into her again. Breath upon cheek, fingers on spine. I grasp the edges of her like a wave does the rim of coastal rocks, touching her with burning hands, marvelling at her shape, her otherness. The back of her neck, the small of her back, her waist. And for the first time she lets me; she touches me, too. Oh, Harriet. She is something else entirely.
I kiss her until her bottom lip swells. She kisses me until my mouth is numb. We ply at each other until our tunics are crumpled, our hair tangled. Twenty-three teachers could walk past, and possibly have.
We come up for air.
‘What about Edie?’ I pant, close to her ear.
‘Fuck Edie,’ says Harriet.
Chapter 38
Former Olympian Faces Sexual Harassment Claims
CHRIS ANDREOU
It was the day the former Olympic champion could never have foreseen on the medal podium.
For two decades Jack Hadley, silver medallist turned swimming coach, has been moulding young women into competitive swimmers for the prestigious Rosemead Grammar.
But yesterday, Hadley learnt his future as a coach and educator was on the line. A source close to The Guardian has revealed that a series of complaints lodged with the school’s administration claim Hadley has been routinely sexually harassing his students.
One mother sent a letter to The Guardian stating: ‘We only recently found out what’s been going on at the school and we are devastated.’
Attempts to reach Hadley for comment were unsuccessful.
Meanwhile, Hadley’s family insists the complaints are a ‘witch hunt’.
‘There is no way he’s capable of what they’re
