Calgacos

  Chapter Thirteen - Trials

  The following morning, she lay in bed, listening to Connel rile Mannik about his relationship with her through the wall, her head sunk in her pillow.

  ‘Did you get stuck in?’ Connel jibed.

  He had no idea, she thought bitterly. None of them did. If Connel, or the other boys, had seen what Mannik had seen, they would not want to touch her, or look at her, or lust after her. They wouldn’t even joke about it.

  When Mannik knocked on her door for breakfast, she flung it open, and marched past him. She didn’t want to look him in the eye. She didn’t want to see in his eyes a reflection of last night. Worse, if she looked at him, he might try to talk about what he had seen. Maybe apologise.

  Fortunately, he didn't. All through breakfast, all morning, he said nothing about what had happened. And that was perfect. Lennox could pretend it hadn’t happened. She could pretend to be normal. She could pretend there was nothing wrong with her. The only problem was Gram. Eventually Mannik would tell him, and then her life would be unbearable.

  Fortunately, that afternoon, Gram forgot all about Lennox. Something much more important diverted his attention. The date of the annual Challenge Cup was announced.

  It happened after lunch. Every house captain pinned up a new notice in their respective common rooms announcing trials were to be held in two weeks. After which, a final team of six, one of whom had to be a junior, would be selected to represent each house in the Cup. From the moment Duncan pinned the notice up, the only topic of conversation was the trials. Every junior Lennox heard discussing it wanted to be the one chosen.

  'Why bother?' she asked Connel, outside Maths later that week, after he had just been boasting loudly about his chances of making the team. 'You don't even like fitness. Why do you want to be on the team?'

  He scowled at her blasphemy. 'It's not just fitness, you know. And I happen to have a lot of other talents.'

  'Such as...what?' Lennox asked. 'Because hiding in the showers when it's time for fitness is not one of the talents Duncan is looking for.'

  'And that's where you're wrong.' Connel answered, looking smug. 'There's more to a Challenge Cup than just running fast.'

  Connel was determined to be the junior representative and his preparations for the trials were two-fold. The first involved spending considerable amounts of time in the Feliformia gym down in the basement, beneath the common room. Unfortunately for him, all the seniors had the same idea.

  'They just turf you out,' he moaned to anyone who would listen. 'The only time I can get in is…'

  But that was just the kind of information that might help his friends, so, just in time, he stopped himself. With only one junior place in the team available, it was fight between all the juniors, and Connel was not going to give his friends any favours.

  Connel’s second method of preparation was stalking. Unlike the Henry and Rick, or Shergar and Aston, who believed improving their fitness was the surest way to winning themselves the coveted position, and who were out running longer distances on a daily basis, Connel would steal out and hide. He delighted in tracking their running routes, which he had realised were often repeated, hiding along the route, then pouncing on the unsuspecting runner, or giving chase into a gorse bush, or swamp.

  Henry came back one night in a colossal rage, and smelling like he had been rolling in dung, because Connel had chased him through a cow field and tackled him so he landed face down in a sheep droppings. He didn’t speak to Connel for the rest of the week.

  For Lennox and Mannik, the frenzied preparations were an unexpected boon. It meant the house descended into peace. On Sundays, when every hearth in the house was swept, they could retire to common room to enjoy the luxury of starting a fire in the gigantic fireplace knowing they would be able sit undisturbed before its warmth. They sat in companionable silence. Mannik whittling, Lennox reading Christie’s book. Lennox hadn’t asked Mannik if he’d told Gram what was on her back; and Mannik had volunteered nothing. She guessed that Gram was too busy himself, preparing to be the junior on the Caniformia team. She couldn’t bring herself to make sure. The words were stuck, deep inside, but alive, like fish, in frozen water.

  The welcome interlude was broken a week before the trials were meant to start. They were sat, alone, by the fire. Lennox’s feet were as hot as sand on a sunny day; Mannik’s cheeks were flushed scarlet. The door was flung open and Duncan came bearing down on them, striding across the room at top speed, his trousers mud splattered, his sleeves rolled up despite the freezing temperatures outside.

  He went straight to Lennox, towered over her, his back to Mannik.

  'Can I have a word?'

  She nodded, staring at his sweaty face, his dark hair sticking to his skin, a subtle warmth stealing from his body. He had come straight from his Personal Pursuit. Rumour was he was training to run the marathon in under 2 hours. Lennox was not sure whether this was an exaggeration or not.

  'You're not practising?' He asked. It was akin to an accusation.

  'For the Challenge Cup trials?' she asked. ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t you remember what I told you? You have to go out there and prove everyone wrong. The Challenge Cup is the ideal opportunity for you.’

  She stared up at him in surprise.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d want me on the team.’

  ‘According to Mr Nighten, you do very well in daily fitness. Sometimes you're not even sweating. Is that true?'

  'No,' she lied, and then added, ‘I just don’t think I’m the right kind of person. I’m not...’

  She tailed off. Duncan could see she had been enjoying the fire a bit too much. Anything she said would juts sound like an excuse.

  ‘Kellas said that,' Duncan admitted, 'but I don't agree. I’ve watched you come back from fitness. I don’t think you look tired.’

  'What exactly did Kellas say?' she asked, curious despite herself.

  Duncan raised an eyebrow.

  'He said you haven’t been practising and you’d be a liability.’

  Lennox’s mouth tightened.

  'But that’s his opinion, not mine,’ Duncan continued. ‘And I’m the House Captain, not him. He hasn’t made any effort to know you so he shouldn't be making judgements about you.'

  ‘But you can?’ she enquired, sharply.

  ‘I’m the House Captain. I have to pick the team. I have to make judgements.’

  Duncan smiled, not at all affected by her change in tone, and sat down beside her. 'It's funny, but you remind me… of me.'

  'I do?'

  Lennox was slender as a young willow, and her heart shaped face stunningly beautiful, enough to make any man stand and stare. Duncan was tall as a bear, and strong, his auburn hair thick, his skin coated in pale freckles. They looked nothing alike.

  'I watch you. I see you have a burning need to prove yourself. Don’t argue.’ Lennox was shaking her head. ‘You just want to do it your way, not anyone else's way.'

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she declared, lying again. But Duncan took no notice.

  'And when I first came here, I was exactly the same,’ he explained. ‘A farmer's son rubbing shoulders with the sons of much wealthier men. I was taller than them all, but unskilled, and ignorant.'

  She could picture him. A mammoth of a boy, his hair and his background making him stand out, just as she did now.

  ‘I wanted to show them all. I wanted them to realise I wasn’t as good as them. I was better. And I hated this house system. Feliformia meant nothing to me. They weren’t my brothers. They were just as bad as the rest.’

  Lennox wasn’t shaking her head now, and across from her, she could see Mannik listening intently. It was almost impossible to believe. Duncan, the formidable, House Captain, revered by the rest of the juniors, admitting to have been a misfit, just like them.

  ‘Eventually I realised I had to prove myself to them in their way.’ Duncan continued. ‘I didn't like it. But it worked. And now…' He shrugged, ??
?…I can do anything.’

  He leant forward towards Lennox. She saw him look first at her face, then down, past her breasts, to her hands. Her heart stopped. Slowly, he reached out and pushed her chin up with one finger.

  ‘Trials are next Saturday. Do your best.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, lying again.