Diary of Will Carlyle
Played some basketball. Lost. Was against girls' team. Let them win, of course. Am v. gentlemanly. Saw Ophelia in the hall during sixth period. Pretty sure she was flirting with that loser, Jock. Poor guy. Snotty little cow. I hate this assignment.
"This assignment sucks," snapped Will mulishly, throwing his diary down on Jack's floor.
Robert looked up from his perch on the bed. "Yeah, like we have nothing better to do, right?"
Jack rubbed his nose, and closed his own journal. "I'm pretty sure that it's just Mrs. Havers being nosy anyway. I swear, when I was in her room, I saw drilled peepholes in the walls."
Robert grinned lasciviously. "And what were you doing in her room, Harrington?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "The duties of a Head Boy are never ending. Not that you'd know about that, you slacker. It was debriefing after the student council meeting."
Robert snorted with laughter. "Dude. Debriefing Havers, huh?"
Jack threw his diary at him.
Robert sighed and flopped back on the covers, still smirking slightly. "Anyway, enough about the English teacher's briefs. Who're you guys taking to the dance?"
Will groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "Not that bloody dance again. Last year I found my date snogging Jock Petersen in the cloak room. Speaking of that prick, you'll never guess who was flirting with him today."
Ignoring Will, Jack stretched and frowned. "I've heard that most people are just going stag this year. Sounds good to me. I really can't be bothered with the whole hassle. I mean, honestly. You try and have a reasonable conversation with the girls, and they just stand there and bloody giggle."
Will paused in his fuming about Ophelia's wanton seduction of Jock in the hallway – not that he cared, of course. He just didn't think behaviour like that was – er – appropriate – that's right! It wasn't appropriate in the school hallways. Where anyone would have to see it. And then have to go to basketball practice with feelings of acute nausea.
"No dates? Suits me," he shrugged. And if all of the other guys, including the Scottish Gigolo, were going alone too, so much the better.
"So we'll just go in a group then, alright, Robert?" Jack said, looking over at their friend.
"Well. Uh," Robert stuttered, looking slightly apprehensive.
Will forgot his Ophelia-induced irritation – she really was such a little snot though – for a moment, and looked over at Robert in surprise. He looked nervous. The last time Will had seen Robert nervous was their first day of nursery school. And only because it was two seconds after Will announced he was scared and was going to be sick.
Jack also looked taken aback, but he was smiling. "And who have you got your eye on, Don Juan?"
Robert shrugged, and tried to look nonchalant. "It's no big deal. There's just this girl. I think she's really pretty – uh – hot. Yeah, I think she's hot. That's all."
"Who?" asked Will curiously.
Robert was notoriously picky when it came to it came to dates. Unlike Ophelia Jones, who apparently went for anyone with an accent. Wench.
Robert shrugged again. "It doesn't matter. I probably won't ask her. I don't think she likes me. I couldn't ask her."
"Why not?" Jack asked, frowning. "What's the big deal?"
"She might say no," Robert said, enunciating the syllables clearly, as if he thought Jack was a little dim.
"So, she says no. Then you ask someone else."
Both Jack and Will were intrigued when Robert immediately looked horrified.
"But I don't want to go with anyone else! I lo-" he broke off quickly.
His friends choked.
"You what?" Will asked, his eyebrows just about leaping off his face. "You – love her?"
"You're in love with someone?" Jack exclaimed. "Dude! That's – that's - "
"That's ridiculous!" Will exclaimed. "What do you want to be in love for, for God's sake? You're only eighteen. You're in the prime of life. Embrace your freedom. Play the field. In love. Jeez."
"Shut up, Will. That's great, Robert," Jack finished, "It's great. Who is she?"
Robert looked at them, clearly debating whether or not to say anything. Finally he sighed in resignation.
"It's Mmrnph Jones," he muttered quietly.
Will's mouth dropped open.
"Ophelia Jones?!" he roared, "You're in love with Ophelia? You can't be bloody in love with Ophelia!"
Robert glared at him.
"I'm NOT in love with Ophelia. I'm in love with Hannah Jones."
As he realised what he'd said, out loud, clearly and with pride, Robert blushed and fell silent again.
There was a brief pause.
Jack nodded slowly.
"I can see it. She's nice. I like her. Pretty too."
"She's more than pretty!" said Robert defensively, "I – I think she's beautiful. She's an angel. Way prettier than anyone else in this school. And she's polite and sweet and – and perfect. I think she's perfect. And there's no way I can ask her out."
"Of course you can," Jack encouraged, still reeling from the knowledge that his friend was obviously head over heels.
"How the mighty have fallen," Will said, rather bitterly. "I can't believe that you actually think that you're in love. And with Hannah Jones. I mean, yeah, she's ok, I suppose. But no different than any other girl. She's not even as pretty as her cousin. But I guess she's alright. Kind of short. And she doesn't say much. How can you think you're in love! What is with everyone wanting to chain themselves to the relentless bottomless pit of – coupledom!"
His increasingly loud diatribe finished in tones of loathing.
Jack and Robert blinked.
"Anyway," Jack said finally, "Ignore Will. He's just caught up in his cloud of lust for Ophelia."
"I AM NOT LUSTING AFTER OPHELIA JONES! SHE'S – SHE'S MEAN. SHE'S A NASTY LITTLE BITCH. ALL WOMEN ARE COWS. MORE TROUBLE THAN THEY'RE WORTH. AND OPHELIA IS THE WORST OF THEM. SHE'S - "
They tuned him out.
"So are you going to ask her?" Jack asked encouragingly.
Robert paused, and then shook his head despairingly.
"I can't. I don't even know if she knows who I am!"
"She knows who you are, Robert."
"AND SHE FLIRTS IN PUBLIC CORRIDORS WITH OTHER MEN. I MEAN, REALLY - "
"I can't! I can't believe I've turned into such a WIMP, but I can't. I just can't. What am I going to do?"
Jack thought for a moment.
"Well. I could ask her to dance at the ball, and then ask her out on your behalf."
"Isn't that a little – ten-years-old?"
"More like nine, yes, but I doubt that she would mind. She might even prefer the less full-on approach. She seems pretty shy."
"Not shy. Just – y'know, still waters and all. God, she's beautiful."
Jack folded his arms across his chest and watch in bemusement and slightly jealous amusement as both of his friends whined on – although in very different tones – about the Jones women.
"So," he interrupted, breaking through Robert's lovesick monologue. "Do you want me to talk to her at the ball?"
Robert looked doubtful and opened his mouth to refuse. Then he closed it. He sighed.
"You wouldn't mind?"
"Of course not. You're my mate. And you know how I love messing in other people's lives," Jack grinned.
"Yeah. You should have your own talk-show, you know. 'Welcome to Jack! Today's topic: men who are hopelessly in love with the cousin of the object of their best friend's obsessive lust!'" Robert laughed.
"I am not obsessed with her! I hate her! I really, really hate her! I hate her even more than – than – burnt broccoli! And you KNOW how much I hate burnt broccoli."
Jack and Robert exchanged glances and barely stifled groans as Will launched into a new line of attack on Ophelia, girls in general and the evils of serious, committed relationships. They wondered how long it would take him to notice if they snuck out and went to the cafeteria. It took him five minutes.
*****
Jessica leaned over and nudged Ophelia, interrupting her conversation with Hannah.
"Hey guys! Look."
"What?" they asked simultaneously, trying to follow the direction of her gaze.
Jessica abandoned subtlety and pointed.
"Peter Harrington's back."
It was all that needed to be said. Peter Harrington was the half-brother of Jack – the son of Jack's father and the girlfriend he'd had a brief fling with after his wife's death. Peter had been expelled from the school the year before, after a mysterious series of events that nobody but Jack, Will and Robert knew much about. And they weren't talking. All that was known was that Peter had majorly stabbed his brother in the back. Their relationship had always been strained. It was obvious that Peter was jealous and resentful of his popular sibling.
Ophelia, Hannah and Jessica gazed silently as Peter, holding his luggage, followed two of the teachers as they walked towards the office. His eyes briefly met theirs and he smirked unpleasantly, before his gaze skated across to the other trio watching him.
Jack, Will and Robert stood, their faces impassive, as they observed Peter's return – an event that was attracting no little attention. It seemed as if at least half of the school was staring and wondering and murmuring. And all of those people saw the hatred that came over Peter's face when he saw his brother. And all of those people had the same thought.
Jessica voiced it.
"Uh oh."
Played some basketball. Lost. Was against girls' team. Let them win, of course. Am v. gentlemanly. Saw Ophelia in the hall during sixth period. Pretty sure she was flirting with that loser, Jock. Poor guy. Snotty little cow. I hate this assignment.
"This assignment sucks," snapped Will mulishly, throwing his diary down on Jack's floor.
Robert looked up from his perch on the bed. "Yeah, like we have nothing better to do, right?"
Jack rubbed his nose, and closed his own journal. "I'm pretty sure that it's just Mrs. Havers being nosy anyway. I swear, when I was in her room, I saw drilled peepholes in the walls."
Robert grinned lasciviously. "And what were you doing in her room, Harrington?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "The duties of a Head Boy are never ending. Not that you'd know about that, you slacker. It was debriefing after the student council meeting."
Robert snorted with laughter. "Dude. Debriefing Havers, huh?"
Jack threw his diary at him.
Robert sighed and flopped back on the covers, still smirking slightly. "Anyway, enough about the English teacher's briefs. Who're you guys taking to the dance?"
Will groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "Not that bloody dance again. Last year I found my date snogging Jock Petersen in the cloak room. Speaking of that prick, you'll never guess who was flirting with him today."
Ignoring Will, Jack stretched and frowned. "I've heard that most people are just going stag this year. Sounds good to me. I really can't be bothered with the whole hassle. I mean, honestly. You try and have a reasonable conversation with the girls, and they just stand there and bloody giggle."
Will paused in his fuming about Ophelia's wanton seduction of Jock in the hallway – not that he cared, of course. He just didn't think behaviour like that was – er – appropriate – that's right! It wasn't appropriate in the school hallways. Where anyone would have to see it. And then have to go to basketball practice with feelings of acute nausea.
"No dates? Suits me," he shrugged. And if all of the other guys, including the Scottish Gigolo, were going alone too, so much the better.
"So we'll just go in a group then, alright, Robert?" Jack said, looking over at their friend.
"Well. Uh," Robert stuttered, looking slightly apprehensive.
Will forgot his Ophelia-induced irritation – she really was such a little snot though – for a moment, and looked over at Robert in surprise. He looked nervous. The last time Will had seen Robert nervous was their first day of nursery school. And only because it was two seconds after Will announced he was scared and was going to be sick.
Jack also looked taken aback, but he was smiling. "And who have you got your eye on, Don Juan?"
Robert shrugged, and tried to look nonchalant. "It's no big deal. There's just this girl. I think she's really pretty – uh – hot. Yeah, I think she's hot. That's all."
"Who?" asked Will curiously.
Robert was notoriously picky when it came to it came to dates. Unlike Ophelia Jones, who apparently went for anyone with an accent. Wench.
Robert shrugged again. "It doesn't matter. I probably won't ask her. I don't think she likes me. I couldn't ask her."
"Why not?" Jack asked, frowning. "What's the big deal?"
"She might say no," Robert said, enunciating the syllables clearly, as if he thought Jack was a little dim.
"So, she says no. Then you ask someone else."
Both Jack and Will were intrigued when Robert immediately looked horrified.
"But I don't want to go with anyone else! I lo-" he broke off quickly.
His friends choked.
"You what?" Will asked, his eyebrows just about leaping off his face. "You – love her?"
"You're in love with someone?" Jack exclaimed. "Dude! That's – that's - "
"That's ridiculous!" Will exclaimed. "What do you want to be in love for, for God's sake? You're only eighteen. You're in the prime of life. Embrace your freedom. Play the field. In love. Jeez."
"Shut up, Will. That's great, Robert," Jack finished, "It's great. Who is she?"
Robert looked at them, clearly debating whether or not to say anything. Finally he sighed in resignation.
"It's Mmrnph Jones," he muttered quietly.
Will's mouth dropped open.
"Ophelia Jones?!" he roared, "You're in love with Ophelia? You can't be bloody in love with Ophelia!"
Robert glared at him.
"I'm NOT in love with Ophelia. I'm in love with Hannah Jones."
As he realised what he'd said, out loud, clearly and with pride, Robert blushed and fell silent again.
There was a brief pause.
Jack nodded slowly.
"I can see it. She's nice. I like her. Pretty too."
"She's more than pretty!" said Robert defensively, "I – I think she's beautiful. She's an angel. Way prettier than anyone else in this school. And she's polite and sweet and – and perfect. I think she's perfect. And there's no way I can ask her out."
"Of course you can," Jack encouraged, still reeling from the knowledge that his friend was obviously head over heels.
"How the mighty have fallen," Will said, rather bitterly. "I can't believe that you actually think that you're in love. And with Hannah Jones. I mean, yeah, she's ok, I suppose. But no different than any other girl. She's not even as pretty as her cousin. But I guess she's alright. Kind of short. And she doesn't say much. How can you think you're in love! What is with everyone wanting to chain themselves to the relentless bottomless pit of – coupledom!"
His increasingly loud diatribe finished in tones of loathing.
Jack and Robert blinked.
"Anyway," Jack said finally, "Ignore Will. He's just caught up in his cloud of lust for Ophelia."
"I AM NOT LUSTING AFTER OPHELIA JONES! SHE'S – SHE'S MEAN. SHE'S A NASTY LITTLE BITCH. ALL WOMEN ARE COWS. MORE TROUBLE THAN THEY'RE WORTH. AND OPHELIA IS THE WORST OF THEM. SHE'S - "
They tuned him out.
"So are you going to ask her?" Jack asked encouragingly.
Robert paused, and then shook his head despairingly.
"I can't. I don't even know if she knows who I am!"
"She knows who you are, Robert."
"AND SHE FLIRTS IN PUBLIC CORRIDORS WITH OTHER MEN. I MEAN, REALLY - "
"I can't! I can't believe I've turned into such a WIMP, but I can't. I just can't. What am I going to do?"
Jack thought for a moment.
"Well. I could ask her to dance at the ball, and then ask her out on your behalf."
"Isn't that a little – ten-years-old?"
"More like nine, yes, but I doubt that she would mind. She might even prefer the less full-on approach. She seems pretty shy."
"Not shy. Just – y'know, still waters and all. God, she's beautiful."
Jack folded his arms across his chest and watch in bemusement and slightly jealous amusement as both of his friends whined on – although in very different tones – about the Jones women.
"So," he interrupted, breaking through Robert's lovesick monologue. "Do you want me to talk to her at the ball?"
Robert looked doubtful and opened his mouth to refuse. Then he closed it. He sighed.
"You wouldn't mind?"
"Of course not. You're my mate. And you know how I love messing in other people's lives," Jack grinned.
"Yeah. You should have your own talk-show, you know. 'Welcome to Jack! Today's topic: men who are hopelessly in love with the cousin of the object of their best friend's obsessive lust!'" Robert laughed.
"I am not obsessed with her! I hate her! I really, really hate her! I hate her even more than – than – burnt broccoli! And you KNOW how much I hate burnt broccoli."
Jack and Robert exchanged glances and barely stifled groans as Will launched into a new line of attack on Ophelia, girls in general and the evils of serious, committed relationships. They wondered how long it would take him to notice if they snuck out and went to the cafeteria. It took him five minutes.
*****
Jessica leaned over and nudged Ophelia, interrupting her conversation with Hannah.
"Hey guys! Look."
"What?" they asked simultaneously, trying to follow the direction of her gaze.
Jessica abandoned subtlety and pointed.
"Peter Harrington's back."
It was all that needed to be said. Peter Harrington was the half-brother of Jack – the son of Jack's father and the girlfriend he'd had a brief fling with after his wife's death. Peter had been expelled from the school the year before, after a mysterious series of events that nobody but Jack, Will and Robert knew much about. And they weren't talking. All that was known was that Peter had majorly stabbed his brother in the back. Their relationship had always been strained. It was obvious that Peter was jealous and resentful of his popular sibling.
Ophelia, Hannah and Jessica gazed silently as Peter, holding his luggage, followed two of the teachers as they walked towards the office. His eyes briefly met theirs and he smirked unpleasantly, before his gaze skated across to the other trio watching him.
Jack, Will and Robert stood, their faces impassive, as they observed Peter's return – an event that was attracting no little attention. It seemed as if at least half of the school was staring and wondering and murmuring. And all of those people saw the hatred that came over Peter's face when he saw his brother. And all of those people had the same thought.
Jessica voiced it.
"Uh oh."