The Future King: Logres Read online

  ‘Which one is it?’ People were looking at her again. For such a big school they noticed fresh blood quickly.

  ‘That one. Come on!’ Emily pulled her into the queue, where Morgan Faye stood waiting on her own in silence.

  ‘Thanks for walking me to my lesson,’ said Gwenhwyfar. ‘I’d have never found it otherwise.’

  The queue had nearly dispersed. ‘Don’t mention it,’ Emily replied, her apple cheeks ripening into a smile. ‘I’d better go, but I’ll see you at break? We’re all meeting in the canteen. The one closest to the Wormelow building, not Badbury.’

  ‘I’ll see you there,’ Gwenhwyfar confirmed. Invaded by the briefest of hugs, she was left on her own again. Some of the boys in the queue had been looking at Emily, hoping she’d notice their overly boisterous behaviour, but their efforts were in vain, as she proceeded down the corridor in her own little world.

  * * *

  They’d been waiting for nearly ten minutes now, and there was still no sign of their teacher. The carpets in this room were green, and there were books piled to the ceiling near the chalkboard. Dust lingered everywhere.

  ‘You’re new, aren’t you?’

  She expected to hear that sentence a hundred times today. Gwenhwyfar looked up from where she was sitting, on her own at the back of the class, next to an unfilled seat. The boy looking down at her was handsome, his olive skin browned by the sun, and he reminded her of the actor that her old best friend had adored. His confident mouth sat in a long smirk beneath a wide pronounced nose, and a comb of dark, gelled hair unbalanced his square face.

  ‘Yes.’ She continued to draw spirals on the small notepad she’d brought in for lessons.

  ‘You’re from Wales, right?’ was the next question. A glance to the front of the class told her that someone else was interested in the answer: a tall, overly broad-shouldered boy with short mousy hair and a wide, open face.

  ‘That’s right,’ she responded, daring him to tease her. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Viola,’ he shrugged. He didn’t seem to think that she might not know who Viola was. He observed her with narrowed brown eyes. ‘I’m Tom. What’s your name?’

  ‘Gwen,’ Gwenhwyfar replied with suspicion.

  ‘Is that Welsh?’

  ‘I suppose.’ She looked behind him again. ‘Who’s that?’

  As Tom glanced over his shoulder, the other boy turned back to his desk. ‘Oh, that’s just Gavin. He asked me to come over because he thinks you’re hot.’

  She couldn’t help it. The moment the words left his lips her cheeks were on fire. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Will you go out with him?’

  Gwenhwyfar didn’t know how he’d dared to continue with the glare he was receiving, and though she wasn’t that insulted by the potential interest, she was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t from him. ‘No. Definitely not.’

  To her horror, Tom announced her decision to the rest of the class. ‘Gavin!’ he hollered, ‘she’s not interested!’

  Several eyes were on her now. Laughing as Gavin told him to “sod off”, Tom returned to his seat where he received a wounded push from his friend. Gwenhwyfar wondered if Gavin was the same Gavin Miles that Hattie had mentioned, and thought that he could be the candidate, if he was usually the butt of such jokes.

  She dared another look around the class. Morgan was sitting on her own working quietly, but occasionally she sneaked a glance at a boy in front of her, who gazed unaware out of the window, his dark blonde hair highlighted with gold in the pale light. The boy sitting next to him looked familiar, and Gwenhwyfar realised that he was in her tutor group. Her eyes turned to the clock. It was quarter past nine.

  The door swung open, and in hurried the teacher who had given her directions upon her arrival. He stumbled to his desk, letting the sliding books in his arms collapse there like a house of cards. One fell onto Gavin and Tom’s table. Immediately it was swiped.

  ‘Thank you sir, I needed a new one of these.’

  ‘If I could have that back, Thomas, please,’ he asked with some exasperation. Tom opened it up and made a big scene in the process. It was a school planner. The teacher ripped it from his hands.

  ‘Hey!’ Tom objected. ‘Didn’t your mother tell you not to snatch?’

  ‘This,’ Mr Caledonensis stressed, ‘is for our new student, Gwenhwyfar Taliesin. Not for sticky-fingered students such as yourself, Mr Hareton.’

  ‘Gwenhwyfar—?’ Tom snorted, ‘I thought you said your name was Gwen?’

  ‘Gwen’s short for Gwenhwyfar, you idiot,’ she snapped, hating that he just grinned.

  ‘Yeah, just like Tom’s short for Thomas,’ Gavin remarked.

  ‘And Dolf is short for Adolf,’ Mr Caledonensis contributed, waving the school planner about. ‘I suppose you’ll need an exercise book too, Miss Taliesin. Well, here you go. You’ll have to buy the textbook. In the meantime you can share Morgan’s.’

  As the books were dumped on her desk, she was pointed in the direction of Morgan Faye, who seemed irked by the sudden development. Mr Caledonensis returned to the head of the classroom, with no mention as to why he was late, and soon the words “Industrial Revolution” were scrawled out before them. Nervously, Gwenhwyfar gathered her things and hurried to move tables, catching the eye of the boy by the window. As she sat, she found herself lost in the warmth of his chocolate-brown eyes.

  He had a strong jaw and a pronounced chin, but both sat well proportioned to an honest face that was defined by a broad, straight nose and generous, cushioned lips. Though he was fair, she could tell that he tanned easily, and his smooth skin was softened by a golden undertone. His eyes, though sunken under thoughtful eyebrows, were bright and quick, and his broad shoulders angled to a frame that was sturdy and solid.

  It was obvious that she was blushing; she knew it. Suddenly lost over where to look, Gwenhwyfar threw her eyes to the front of the class where Mr Caledonensis scribbled on the board, seemingly oblivious to the rising noise levels behind him. She could still feel the boy’s eyes on her. Curiosity pulled her like a magnet, and she looked at him again. Her heart skipped. This time he looked away first.

  The lesson went quickly and any attempts she made to speak to Morgan were deflected with curt, one word answers. Mr Caledonensis took points from the class and added them to the board, listing phrases like: prosperity and productivity, origins of mass production in Great Britain, and eventual increase in pollution and natural resources crisis. He seemed to cover the government’s role in tackling climate change uncomfortably, and swiftly moved on, setting them a series of questions to answer instead. Using the final five minutes of the lesson to check where she was next, Gwenhwyfar memorised the number of her English classroom so that she wouldn’t look too lost when navigating the halls. She only just registered the due homework before the bell sounded and everyone jumped to their feet. Still shouting over the ruckus, Mr Caledonensis was forced to give up, and returned muttering to his desk.

  ‘Sir?’ Letting Morgan Faye go first, Gwenhwyfar picked her way through the maze of chairs scattered in the aisles. ‘This textbook, can I have the name? Where do I get it from?’

  He perked up immediately and dropped the papers he had been organising onto his desk. ‘Ah, of course! I’d almost forgotten. It’s quite simple—it’s called 1750–2050, An Anthology. But if you bring in twenty-five new-pounds I can order it for you through the school. You’d be paying sixty, otherwise.’

  ‘Can I bring it in next lesson?’

  ‘Of course,’ he beamed. His sharp grey eyes watched her with interest, but then darted to the two boys that had been sitting in front of her as they followed Morgan on her way out. ‘Mr Humphreys!’ he called, staying the boy who had gazed at her, the one with the chocolate-brown eyes. ‘One moment please, I’d like a word.’ Mr Caledonensis turned back to Gwenhwyfar. ‘Do you know where you’re going next?’

  ‘I think so,’ she responded, self-consciously edging away.

  ‘Marvell
ous. I’ll see you next lesson, then. Don’t be late.’

  Gwenhwyfar nodded, offering a small smile to Mr Humphreys on her way out. Her heart sank at his blank response. Suddenly she was fending for herself out in the corridor. English. Left. Gwenhwyfar retraced the steps of Emily’s guided tour, trying not to dwell too much on her latest embarrassment. She was sure she would have to endure many more.

  Arthur Humphreys

  ‘You must be Gwenhwyfar.’

  She was hovering by the open door, eyeing the rows of desks in an effort to decide where she should sit. ‘Gwen.’

  Her English teacher offered a kind, full smile. She was of average height, but tall to Gwenhwyfar, in her mid-forties and had a strong Roman nose. ‘Gwen. You can sit at the back with Hayley. But first let’s get you an exercise book.’

  Gwenhwyfar followed her to the corner of the classroom and waited awkwardly as the teacher raided the supply cupboard.

  ‘I’m Ms Appelbauer, by the way.’

  ‘Ms Appelbauer?’ Gwenhwyfar took the exercise book from her.

  ‘Appelbauer,’ she repeated, her hazel eyes lit with a quick spark. ‘It usually takes students a while to get it right. Do let me know if you need anything. I know it can be hard, starting at a new school so late. Where are you from?’

  ‘Swansea.’

  ‘Oh? My grandmother was from Swansea, on my father’s side. I hear it’s lovely.’

  ‘It is.’ She smiled politely. Ms Appelbauer gestured to the back of the class.

  ‘Like I said, let me know if you need anything. Hayley’s right there, last row. We’re working on Chaucer today.’

  Nodding, Gwenhwyfar found her seat. Ms Appelbauer started the lesson, and with everyone working in silence, soon she was struggling to catch up.

  The moment the bell sounded Gwenhwyfar followed the masses into the cafeteria, where from the middle of the busy hall she scoured the crowd for Emily. She spotted Viola first, sitting with Tom and Gavin by the fire escape, and as Tom pulled Viola into his lap to give her a prolonged kiss she realised the connection between the two. She felt they suited one another.

  ‘Gwen! Over here!’

  She turned to find Emily, Hattie and Charlotte all huddled around the corner of a table. They waved, beckoning her forwards like a dog. ‘Come sit!’

  She did as she was told. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Good!’ Emily said brightly. ‘How was History? Did you meet anyone nice?’

  ‘It was all right,’ Gwenhwyfar shrugged, unzipping her bag to forage for something to eat. ‘I didn’t really meet anyone.’ Their puzzled silence urged her on. ‘Met this completely weird girl though,’ she blurted. ‘Morgan. I had to share her book in class, which was stupid. She kept it to herself the whole time and practically hissed at me when I asked if I could see it.’

  All three faces lit up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ Gwenhwyfar confirmed.

  ‘Morgan’s just weird though, isn’t she? She never says hello to us. She’s so up herself.’ Emily was the first one to spot her. Gwenhwyfar followed her line of sight, and found her sitting amicably with another girl at the other end of the cafeteria. Her gaze swung towards Viola’s table again. Gavin still looked uncomfortable as the third wheel. Gwenhwyfar noticed the boy from her tutor group and History class at a closer table, and then found herself searching for his friend.

  Emily was eying her. ‘What—?’

  Quickly she looked away. ‘Nothing. I met Viola’s boyfriend in History. He was so rude.’

  ‘Tom?’ Emily looked over, and Viola glanced back. ‘He’s not that bad, you know.’

  ‘Yeah. I don’t know what he sees in Viola, though. She’s so skinny.’ Hattie sniggered.

  The boy twisted in his seat and waved someone his way. It was Humphreys. He was very tall. He passed unnoticed through the crowd, as she wished she could do, and sat down with an easy smile.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That!’ She nodded in his direction, reluctant to point.

  ‘The fat one?’ Emily frowned, perplexed.

  ‘No! The tall guy who just sat down; over there by the fire extinguisher.’

  ‘Oh!’ Emily suddenly sounded rather smug. ‘Why, are you interested?’

  ‘What? No!’ Gwenhwyfar pulled a face. ‘I was just wondering. He was sat in front of me in History.’

  Emily’s rather annoying expression told Gwenhwyfar she didn’t believe her. ‘The good-looking one? That’s Arthur.’

  ‘Arthur?’

  ‘Yes: Arthur. Arthur Humphreys.’

  Gwenhwyfar’s eyes strayed back to where he was sitting, engaged in what looked to be an intriguing conversation. Her teeth began to worry her lip again. For Emily, such behaviour was confirmation enough.

  ‘You do! You do like him!’ she gasped, laughing at her newfound discovery. Hattie and Charlotte were suddenly on the alert, pouncing in towards the table with anticipation.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Gwen! Gwen fancies Arthur.’

  ‘Arthur?’ The two exchanged a glance.

  ‘I do not!’ she insisted again, wishing that her cheeks, for once, would play on her side.

  ‘Yes you do, it’s obvious. Look! You’re going all red!’

  ‘It’s not like we can blame you, he is quite fit,’ Hattie gushed. ‘As far as I know, he hasn’t got a girlfriend.’

  ‘We should totally set you up.’ Emily’s words made her shrink even further. ‘It’ll be so cute! Gwen and Arthur, Arthur and Gwen. It so works.’

  Gwenhwyfar was beginning to reconsider her choice of hyena. ‘But you’re completely missing the point. I don’t fancy him.’

  ‘How can you not? He’s gorgeous.’ Hattie was gazing his way now. ‘Other guys pick on him though. You always see them pushing him in the corridors.’

  ‘Maybe you should go out with him then, if you like him.’ Gwenhwyfar found herself glancing over again.

  ‘Look! You can’t keep your eyes off him.’ Emily’s glee expanded. ‘We have to introduce you. Never know, he might like girls with funny accents.’

  ‘And you’re new. That’s a definite advantage. Guys like new girls.’

  ‘Hattie’s right. You should talk to him. When’s your next History lesson?’ Emily leant towards Gwenhwyfar as if she was an applicant in an interview.

  ‘Thursday, I think.’

  ‘Thursday. Can you sit next to him?’

  ‘Not really. I could sit behind him though.’

  Emily’s face lit up. ‘If you sit behind him, you can talk to him at least.’

  ‘I suppose…’ She glanced over to Arthur. ‘Just don’t tell anyone, please? I haven’t even spoken to him yet.’

  ‘No problem.’ Emily sent Gwenhwyfar a wicked grin. ‘At least it’ll annoy that Morgan girl. She’s so in love with him, it’s sad.’

  Charlotte gave a harrumph, her eyes drifting over to where Arthur sat, oblivious to their attention.

  * * *

  Gwenhwyfar was pleased to discover that she was with Charlotte for next period, and as Maths wasn’t one of her favourite subjects, this stroke of good luck was all the more welcome. As they made their way up to Wormelow in silence, however, it became apparent that Charlotte was far less interested in her than she had been when Emily was around. Not sure what she had done to offend the hard-faced, orange girl, Gwenhwyfar made one last attempt towards conversation as the bell marked the beginning of lunch. Barely acknowledged and hardly answered, she was relieved to find Emily waiting for them in the corridor.

  ‘Mr Sloane let us out early,’ Emily said, saving her with an invasive hug. ‘Hattie’s got hockey, she’ll meet us later.’

  Gwenhwyfar’s interest was sparked. ‘Hattie plays hockey?’

  ‘Yep!’ Emily responded, leading them out of the building. ‘Why? Do you?’

  ‘I used to play at my old school,’ Gwenhwyfar admitted. ‘I prefer lacrosse, though.’

  ‘You play lacros
se?’ Charlotte’s words were more a snort than anything else.

  ‘Yep!’ Gwenhwyfar said, ducking Charlotte’s obvious disdain. ‘Do you play anything?’

  ‘No,’ Charlotte sniffed, ‘why would I want to waste my time playing something stupid like lacrosse?’

  ‘You can play it here then?’ Gwenhwyfar remarked.

  ‘The girls don’t even get to play football here,’ Emily divulged. ‘It’s either netball or rounders. If you want to do anything remotely interesting you’ve got to do it after school.’

  ‘I went horse riding a lot, back home,’ Gwenhwyfar told them. ‘Our school had its own stables.’

  ‘No. Really?’ As Emily looked to her, Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘You have a horse, then?’

  Gwenhwyfar felt her stomach drop. ‘I used to. We had to sell him before the move. My dad said he’d be happier where he was, in the country.’

  ‘That must be horrible,’ Emily enthused. ‘He was probably right, though. I’m sure your horse is having a wonderful time where he is. You can always come ride one of mine. We could all have a sleepover.’ Charlotte didn’t seem too thrilled by the suggestion, but Emily didn’t notice. ‘It’s been ages since we last did that. When are you free?’

  Inwardly reluctant, Gwenhwyfar was willing to accept for the sake of forging friendships. ‘Would Friday be all right?’

  ‘I’ll have to check with my mum,’ Emily said. ‘If she says no I’ll just ask my dad. He always says yes to everything.’

  ‘You’re so lucky,’ Charlotte whined. ‘My dad never buys me anything.’

  ‘It’s just because I’m better at manipulating,’ Emily laughed.

  ‘Knowing how to manipulate one’s parents is a good skill,’ Gwenhwyfar agreed. They passed through the sea of cars and bikes, and headed straight for the cafeteria. ‘That’s how I got Dillon and Llewellyn.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dillon, my horse; and Llewellyn, my dog. Though he’s the family dog now. My dad’s more attached to him than I am.’ Emily seemed to find this funny, but Charlotte didn’t. Gwenhwyfar decided to try again. ‘So what does your dad do, Charlotte?’