Say Her Name Read Free Page B

that Grace wouldn’t get her wicked way with Caine, at least not tonight. Assuming they survived Bloody Mary, of course. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. That said, if she was really honest, she was half curious to see if they’d go through with it, and if nothing else, Caine was particularly moreish eye candy.
    The dorms, part of the original school building, were divided into four houses, each named after noted female writers – Austen, Brontë, Christie and Dickinson. The fact they weren’t just labelled A, B, C and D was further proof, as if any were needed, that Bobbie’s school was massively pretentious. Austen and Brontë were on opposing wings of the second floor, while Christie and Dickinson were the floor above that.
    Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, footsteps and voices had faded to silence. Only the electric hum of strip lights and the pained moans of the storm filled the school.
    ‘Right, let’s get it on!’ Sadie led the brigade out from their shelter.
    Lottie left them to it, tiptoeing back to Christie House on the next floor. Bobbie hung back, tugging on Naya’s arm. ‘Why are we doing this?’
    ‘Oh come on, Bob!’ Naya took her hand. ‘I’ve done this at a hundred slumber parties. I’m just messing with Grace and Sadie! It’ll be hilarious!’
    ‘Really? Do explain.’ She shrugged, incredulous.
    ‘Duh! I go through with it and then spend the next week creeping around writing stuff on mirrors and hanging nooses everywhere! It’ll spectacularly freak them out – I want to see Grace Brewer-Fay wet her bed!’
    Bobbie watched as Grace hung off Caine’s arm like a B-movie heroine. It was such an act; Grace had more testosterone than both boys put together. Would it be funny to take her down a peg or two? Hell, yes.
    In the lead, Sadie and Mark reached Brontë House. Only a skittering night light illuminated the long line of peaceful dormitories – a dim silver light to guide girls to the fire exit. The coast was clear and the bathroom door stood ajar, awaiting them. Bobbie couldn’t help but feel it looked a little ominous in the dark, on Hallowe’en night, in a raging storm …
    She mentally threw a bucket of reality over herself. She should know better. Idiot kids all across the globe were chanting ‘Bloody Mary’ at mirrors; if it were true she was pretty sure the press would have covered it by now.
    ‘Come on!’ Sadie tiptoed into the shower room. Taking a deep breath, Bobbie allowed Naya to pull her across the threshold.
    As always, the damp, tiled room carried the eggy scent of hair-clogged drains combined with an infusion of soap and shampoo. Behind the torn plastic curtains, the rusty showerheads leaked continually, dripping against the ceramic floor. Bobbie doubted even the most desperate spirit would be summoned to this hole.
    ‘Shut the door,’ Sadie commanded and Bobbie obliged. Sadie pulled open her shower bag, which she’d already filled with candles and matches from her dorm, and started to set them up around the long, communal sinks that stood before the mirror. This whole thing had been orchestrated to the finest detail – Bobbie wondered how long Sadie had been planning it. There was some sort of unresolved tension between Grace and Sadie: both were in ‘The Elites’, a long-standing Piper’s Hall institution-in-an-institution. Every year, one or two girls from rich, powerful or famous families were initiated into a ‘special club’ to have secret get-togethers and generally be vile – sort of like the Masons but with lip gloss. From what Bobbie could ascertain as an outsider, Grace and Sadie constantly jostled for Top Bee/Queen Dog.
    It was total bull. Because her mum was kind of famous, Bobbie had been invited to join in her first year. She’d declined because it looked like some sort of sugar-fuelled, miniskirted anorexia cult, and as a consequence had suffered ever since. She was social roadkill, not that she gave a rat’s ass.