Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay, I've been away and wasn't quite sure where to finish this chapter, but I got there eventually. A lot more drama in this chapter, and the next chapter should be fairly action-packed too! Thank you so much to the amazing reviews so far, they're fantastic! Please do keep telling me your thoughts! Enjoy x

I never got a visit from the headmaster that day, or the next. In fact, I never got any kind of word from anyone in relation to Connie Beauchamp. So I decided to leave it, to distance, to back off. Just because we were roommates didn't mean we had to speak, and we didn't. Weeks passed without so much as a word, and each lesson we were together she would either leave or not turn up at all. I felt guilty, like I was having an impact on her education, but at the same time I wanted to do well myself and knew that I wouldn't be able to focus with her in the lesson.

A couple of weeks before half term, however, I happened to leave my biology textbook in my room. Dr Keogh had sighed dramatically, before telling me to go and fetch one from the library as it was closer to the lab and would be quicker than climbing all those stairs.

I hadn't been to the library before and it took me a few moments to take it all in. It was a maze of shelves and chairs, with a high ceiling and chandelier, and I was sure that if I was ever to look for a book in there I would get lost. I quickly explained to the librarian why I was here and she directed me to where the textbooks were stored, but made no move to help me. Quietly I started through the shelves to find the section labelled 'Educational Resources' and I got to it much quicker than I had anticipated, thankfully.

As I pulled the thick, heavy book from the shelf I caught glimpse of someone behind it, sat on the floor surrounded by books and bits of paper. Looking around me as inconspicuously as I could and seeing that there was no one near, I pressed my face to the hole in the bookshelf.

My heart stopped in my chest and I had to fight myself from letting free a sigh of exasperation. This girl was fast becoming infuriating as I grew more and more perplexed at her actions and her motives. Connie was absorbed, engrossed in her textbooks to the extent that I think I could have choked on the breath I was holding and her not notice. I watched her in fascination as she worked, her forehead creased slightly as she followed a particular section of the text with her finger. Around her were at least five different neatly colour-coded mind maps, and some felt pens scattered across the floor. This sight was such a juxtaposition from her outward manner and reputation that it was mesmerising. Did she really just go and work every day when she skipped lesson? I was so confused and wrapped up in my thoughts that I jumped when the librarian appeared beside me.

"Did you find what you needed, dear?"

My heart pounded at the fright and I silently nodded before rushing away back to class. I didn't know how long I had been watching Connie work, but I knew that it was long enough that Dr Keogh wouldn't be happy.

"And where have you been?"

"Sorry, sir. I got lost."

"Pathetic excuse, frankly. Sit down," he said flatly. He was always so blunt and his signature move seemed to be the infamous hands on hips. He was such a creature of habit and quiet indignation that I almost felt fondly toward him. I got back to my seat and flicked to the page of the textbook we were studying, a slight smile on my lips and as I glanced up I saw the lab assistant, Lofty, looking at Dr Keogh with a similar sense of endearment. I had seen this look on his face many times though, almost each lesson, and I could sense that his admiration for the teacher ran a lot deeper than mine did. When I told Robyn she informed me that Dr Keogh and Lofty had been dancing around one another for years, a joke that the whole school was in on as the two involved seemed entirely oblivious. I thought this was rather adorable.

For the rest of the day my thoughts were full of Connie Beauchamp. Now I knew how she still managed to get good grades without going to lessons, I was further intrigued to find out what else she was masking. It was like an itch I needed to scratch, and after my second period psychology lesson I went straight to the library, to see if she was still there. I had a free next, and so it didn't matter that I had trekked all the way to the other side of the school, just to catch a glimpse of her working. She had looked so harmless in that moment, so innocent and child-like in her concentration that my heart had ached for her. I am somebody who is always willing to believe the best in people, and in that moment I honestly did. But I knew it was a sham.

Even so, as I poked my head around the bookshelves, there she was. From what I could see, she was doing maths work now. There was a large black textbook with frayed binding laid open before her, and sheets covered in graphs and equations and diagrams and charts all arranged haphazardly before her. I knew from Alicia they they had an end of unit exam coming up soon, so figured that this must have been what she was revising for. I wondered if that was the reason for the sudden work ethic, but we had already had our biology and chemistry papers last week and so she couldn't have been revising for that when I had walked in on her earlier. After what I had seen of her so far, the violence and the aggression and the hardness, this was something of a relief, though I still couldn't work her out. Why skip lesson if you're going to spend the time doing the work anyway? To me, it made no sense whatsoever.

And what of her affiliations with Mr Fairhead? From what I understood, she often spent her evenings in his company, and always had done. The first time I had seen them together, I had assumed that she was speaking to him on a support level, that he was someone she could go to if she needed to talk things out. But meeting with him more or less every day seemed a little excessive. Everything about her seemed to grind on my nerves and make me want to scream. Her every move filled me with more questions that I couldn't get the answers to and the frustration was crippling.

I don't know why she had this effect on me, and I don't think I ever will. It was something completely unconscious, some unknown force of nature that dragged me towards her and wouldn't let me tear myself away. I kept telling myself over and over she's bad news, she's bad news, but it was useless. I needed to learn her every secret, to know her better than I knew myself, and it was something I was unable to fight.

I had seen Zoe only once or twice in the past couple of weeks, and when I did it was only briefly, or in passing. She seemed distracted, withdrawn, on edge. Put simply, she looked like she needed a hug, but I couldn't without letting her know that I had seen her that time with Connie. I wondered if it was Connie who was causing this distraction in her, whether her bullying and her antagonism had become overwhelming and she was cracking under its pressure. Again that fury at my roommate bubbled away.

Two days later, the day before we broke up for half term, it all came to a head.

It was breakfast-time, the canteen was bustling and I had woken up in a particularly dire mood as Connie had only come in at around three in the morning, waking me up and putting me on edge for the rest of the night. It was the first time I had actually seen her get out of bed as usually she was up and gone by the time my alarm went off. We got ready together silently, her delicately applying her mascara as I brushed the knots out of my short blonde hair. I went into the bathroom to clean my teeth and when I came back she was gone, pyjamas and bedsheets thrown indignantly across the floor as per usual. However, today I was not in the mood, and I huffed as I violently tucked them back into her bed. I hadn't felt much like breakfast, my anger was so intense, but I knew that if I skipped it then I would get hungry in an hour or so and then have to wait until lunch. I grabbed a couple of slices of toast and some jam and went to sit down.

The only person there that I knew well enough to sit with was Zoe, as my friends, like myself, usually got up a good half an hour after this. But this morning, as I was awake anyway, I decided to leave early. I wanted to see where it was Connie got to at this time of day. I don't know what I was expecting really, because when I walked into the canteen she was there, sat at a table in the corner with a plate of bacon and eggs. Sharing the table with her was Max Walker, Robyn's brother. Nobody spoke to him really, not even Robyn, and he was regarded of the 'loser' of the school. He didn't get good grades and he was only still allowed to study here because his mother was paying for it. His hair was scruffy, his face often downturned and he was a regular victim of Cal. I had spoken to him once, though, and he seemed nice. I felt sorry for him, really.

Zoe looked slightly perkier this morning, I thought, and was enjoying a small plate of scrambled eggs. I nodded to her as I sat down and she smiled at me. We made small talk for a while, me not wanting to upset the mood by asking her how she was feeling. But I still noticed, every few seconds, her eyes darted quickly towards Connie's table and away again, her face fearful, as though the sight burned her. I clenched my teeth.

A few minutes later, Zoe said she was going to sort out something with Mr Fairhead before lessons began. As she stood up she wavered and said she thought she had eaten too much. I frowned at this, looking down at her small, half-eaten plate of food. She had hardly eaten a thing, but before I had time to ask questions she was gone.

I went back to sipping my orange juice contemplatively. I thought about everything, about Zoe, about Connie. There was something I was missing, something staring me in the face here that I couldn't quite see just yet. It was eating away at my guts and making my heart beat faster. I could feel anticipation rising, but I didn't know what for. I just knew that something wasn't right.

Then I looked around and Connie was gone.

I stood up quickly, putting my plate and cutlery on the dirty shelf and walking out almost on autopilot. Everything happened so fast that I don't know why I chose to go into the toilets. She could have been anywhere, but my feet directed me here, and they weren't wrong.

Connie Beauchamp was stood tall, both hands resting on the door of the middle toilet cubicle, banging aggressively.

"Zoe," she raised her voice, but didn't shout. "Zoe open the door now."

I stood gaping for several moments, unable to move, unsure of what action to take. I thought maybe I should go get help.

"Zoe, open the fucking door." She was getting more confrontational now. More desperate. "Zoe, if you don't open this door right now I'm going to smash it in. Zoe!" She banged on the door with her palms, placing an ear to it briefly before standing back.

"Hey!" I yelled at her, not feeling as though the words were coming from me. Fear pulsed through my veins and I was glued to where I stood.

She turned to look at me, narrowing her eyes exasperatedly. "Get out," she spat. "Get out now. This is nothing to do with you, you can't be here. Leave."

I looked at her incredulously. "Nothing to do with me?" I shouted back. "You've been bullying her for months!"

"Bullying!" She looked at me angrily, as though she was about to turn on me but a clatter from behind the toilet door returned her attention there, and before I could make another comment she had kicked the door in and was rushing inside.

I ran towards them, my heart racing. Zoe was slumped over the toilet bowl, her forehead beaded with perspiration and her jaw hanging slack. There was drool around her chin, and a quick glance towards the toilet let me know she had been vomiting. Connie was knelt beside her, tapping her on the cheek with one hand and shaking her with the other.

"Get off her," I spat, grabbing her by the shoulder and trying to pull her off the unconscious head girl. She was stronger than she looked, and stayed put, continuing to try and shake Zoe into life.

"Come on Zoe, come on," she murmured to her, her face twisted into a mixture of worry and fright. As she spoke she reached into her back pocket for her phone with one hand.

I was fuming. "So are you having regrets now then, eh?" I growled, arms crossed, admittedly paying much more attention to Connie than Zoe. When she ignored me I continued, fury and venom lacing my every word. "Very common in bullying victims, you know, bulimia."

She turned her head at my so fast I'm surprised she didn't hurt her neck. "Bulimia!" She cried, her eyes frantic and her breaths coming out unsteady with almost equal fury to mine. "She doesn't have bulimia, it's hyperemesis gravidarum."

I gaped for a moment, my mind whirring, processing what had just been said.

"She's pregnant."

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