Waiting

Of course now that we're here there is nothing we can do but take up a seat in the waiting area. Kat is still holding my hand tight in hers. I don't let go. I need to hold down onto something too, so that I don't fly. So that I don't run away, take off and leave it all behind.

We've never been so quiet. In that other night long watch there had never been silence. Even when our voices had stilled, the music had carried on, till the morning sun had released us and we had ran to the water and splashed like the noisy crazy kids we were.

But here, the only noises are the ones that would be there if we weren't: the doors opening and closing, the hospital staff shuffling about in their spongy shoes, the phones ringing, the hushed voices. It all becomes a weirdly relaxing background soundtrack, like white noise.

I drifted asleep. I only realised now because I'm opening my eyes and it's lighter. The earth hasn't stopped its revolution. It has let the sun warm its down under face, bringing out a new day. Anger bubbles in my empty stomach. Ah, of course I'm ravenous. Trust my body to betray me, to want its needs met, to think only of itself.

'Christian, are you okay?' Kat asks, her fingers wriggling beneath mine. I must have squeezed them too hard. I nod.

'Go back to sleep, there's still no news.'

'I shouldn't have slept at all.'

Kat gives me a knowing look. 'We all did at one point or another.'

I glance over the group. Ollie is wide awake, his eyes fixed ahead of himself, but both Ben and Grace are asleep, their heads propping each other. As if on cue, he snorts a bit, then wake up. He catches my eyes and straightens up, letting Grace's head drop gently to the sofa's armrest. My guilt reflects in his eyes, in the tightness of his lips. But us sleeping or not makes no difference. No matter how much we might wish it could.

Ollie comes back with coffee for everyone. I never drink the stuff, but today is as good as any to start. Before I even have my lips on the rim, Miss Raine walks in, heels clicking loudly, echoing against the walls. She makes no apologies for being here and making her entrance. She has her business face on, that 'don't mess with me' look that melted us to a whimper as first years. 'You need to get ready for your interviews. They will not be postponed. Up you get, now. You can come back afterwards. Go.'

I want to snap back at her, tell her this is none of her business. I can feel my lip curl, ready for a smirk, or a snarl. Who is she to tell me what to do? Who in their right minds can think of bloody Company interviews? It's not as if Tara will go to hers now, is it?

But Tara would want us to go. She would want ME to go. I swallow my retort back. It catches in my throat before nestling unhappily in my stomach. Interview? What the heck am I going to say?