The sun was shining its arse off.
That was a good thing, Melanie reflected; it meant they didn’t have to walk in the rain. She was also hoping it boded well. It wasn’t necessarily that sunshine automatically meant things would turn out right—some of the worst days in her life had been perfectly nice weather—but it did feel like rainy days portended bad news. And considering today was the day that her entire future hinged on, the more omens were on her side—or at least not totally against her—the better.
“Stop worrying,” Jon said, through a mouthful of foam. He spat the toothpaste into the washbasin and added, “You’re going to be fine.”
Melanie scoffed as she swiped the lipstick over her bottom lip. “Easy for you to say. You’ve read the whole library.” She set the tube on Jon’s half of the counter and reached for the eyeliner.
Jon snatched the tube up and leaned closer to the mirror. “First of all, I have not. Second of all, that just means I have more information to get muddled up, and third of all, at least you could have that ruler Mrs McDowell gave you to help you fix the lines in place. I would have failed the maths exam completely if they’d taped my hand to the desk. As it is, I might scrape together a few points for basic addition.”
“You’re not that bad at maths.”
“And you’re not that bad at English. Quit borrowing trouble. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Melanie groaned. “Did you have to say that?”
It had been, by most metrics, a blissful summer, the second they hadn’t had to go to Bournemouth. Instead they had gone to Sheffield—initially just for a week, but their dad’s cousin Linda had rung up while they were visiting with the news that she’d somehow managed to get tickets to not only some of the first week’s events of the Olympics but the opening ceremony itself, and when all of her aunts had declined for one reason or another (Melanie suspected at least some of it was put on) had asked and obtained permission to take them along. It had been their first time flying, their first time out of the country, and their first time discovering just how much fun Cousin Linda was when her aunts weren’t around. She’d dragged them—well, not really dragged, both Jon and Melanie had been eager to go—to a few different museums in between games, and even taken them to the dig she was working on, and Uncle Edmond had taken all of them to what he swore was the best taverna in all of Greece. Melanie had no reason to doubt him. They’d hated having to leave, and felt bad about Uncle Edmund not being able to stay longer, but he’d assured them that he had to get back to work as well, since he wouldn’t be retiring until the end of the year.
They’d been back for about a week and a half, and they’d spent most of it chasing one another around town on their bicycles, fencing in the park using sticks and dubious techniques, and arguing over things like if trees could dream and whether cheese tasted yellow. It had been, in Melanie’s opinion, a wonderful excuse to just shut her brain off and not think, about anything at all, let alone anything serious. But today was the day, and not thinking was no longer an option.
At least there wasn’t any kind of dress code. Some people, she knew, would dress up for this, others…wouldn’t. Melanie had opted for walking the line between comfort and confidence and donned a pair of low waisted jeans she’d embroidered with Auntie Liz’s help, a bright pink midriff shirt with a glittery heart in the middle, and the oversized denim jacket their dad promised she’d grow into that she’d begun adding patches to, and was currently trying, with limited success, to get the hang of winging her eyeliner. Jon, beside her, wore the shirt he’d got in Athens, a pair of artfully ripped jeans, and his jacket to match hers, except that hers was a light stone and his was a dark charcoal. The lipstick suited his skin tone better than it did Melanie’s. Both of them had gelled their hair into spikes, and that particular hairstyle…well, it didn’t really suit either of them, honestly, but it at least looked a little better on Melanie.
“I think I might cut my hair shorter before school starts,” she said distractedly, trying to get the left eye to match the right. “Assuming I’m going.”
“Of course you’re going. You’re not going to fail.” Jon tilted his chin briefly to examine in the mirror, then turned to face her fully with a mischievous smirk. “Anyway, I’ll be going, and where—”
“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” Melanie grumbled, without heat.
They finished their morning ablutions—that had been one of the vocabulary words on their exams, and Melanie had liked it a lot—laced up their shoes, and headed to the living room. Cosy was prowling around restlessly, going back and forth between the living room and the door to the dining room; Paddiwack, who was, like his namesake, a heartthrob and a bit of a snob and had never been one to indulge in kittenish playing, was nevertheless engaged in a wrestling match with Skimbleshanks behind the partial wall separating the living room and the utility closet. Their dad was turning up the sofa cushions.
“Dad?” Melanie said, frowning slightly.
Their dad paused, looking up. “Oh—hello, Little Moth.” His glasses, which had somehow been knocked askew upwards, dropped down and settled into place on his nose. “Have you seen my car keys? I swear I left them by the door.”
“No, not since last night.” Their dad had taken them out to practice their driving for a bit, but he always hung the keys on the rack by the door. Melanie could see at a glance they weren’t there, though. “Here, let me help you look.”
Jon glanced at Cosy with a slight frown. “I’ll help in a minute…Dad, did you feed the cats this morning?”
“Yes. That is, I thought I had. I didn’t check their water bowl, though.”
“Right, let me do that and then I’ll help.” Jon disappeared into the kitchen.
Melanie dropped to her knees, on the grounds that her jeans could stand it more than the knees of their dad’s suit trousers, and peered under the sideboard. It wasn’t impossible for Skimbleshanks, in a fit of mischief, to have jumped up on the top and batted the keys off the hook—it would be difficult, certainly, because their mum had definitely purchased a set of hooks with a deep curve to deter such mischief, but not impossible—and there was enough of a gap behind it that it might have fallen under. Her efforts were in vain, however. Nor were the keys under the sofa, the bookshelf, or the piano.
She got up and brushed off her knees. “Maybe Skimbles ran off with them?”
Their dad frowned. “Why should he have done that?”
“They’re shiny.” It was a weak argument and Melanie knew it, but it was the only thing she could come up with in the moment. “Who knows what goes on in that cat’s mind?”
“I suppose,” their dad said slowly. He turned around at the sound of footsteps. “Was it water Cosy was wanting?”
“The water bowl was fine,” Jon said. He stood in the doorway with two oranges held in one hand and something in the other, which flashed and gave a soft clink as it swung free when he held it up. It was the ring of keys.
“Oh, there they are!” Their dad laughed, holding out his hand. Jon tossed them with an easy underhand throw, and their dad caught it fairly easily. “I must have set them on the kitchen counter when I fed the cats. Thank you, Little Flame.” He flicked through the keys and took hold of the one for the car. “So, what adventure are you two off on today?”
Jon tossed one of the oranges, less gently, at Melanie. She caught it with one hand and a defiant smirk, which he returned. “Heading off to the school…you want to take the train or bike?”
"Train,” Melanie said firmly. It was easier for them to talk that way, and would make it easier to bring…things…home with them.
A look of confusion crossed their dad’s face. “Surely it can’t be time for you to go back to school yet. And on a Thursday?”
“Not quite yet.” Jon raised himself up on his toes—he hadn’t hit his final growth spurt yet—just enough to press a quick kiss to their dad’s cheek. “It’s Results Day.”
Melanie raised on her own toes—she and Jon had somehow managed to match each other inch for inch the entire time they’d been growing up—and pressed a kiss to his other cheek. “Wish us luck.”
“Luck?” Their dad scoffed and ruffled their hair affectionately. Melanie tried not to wince at the press of the keys into her scalp. “My children don’t need luck. Get on with you.”
Out of habit, both of them jumped up slightly to swat the Thorn Valley sign and set it swinging before skipping off down the path. Their dad waved to them from where he was getting in the car; they waved back, then headed off. As they rounded the corner, Melanie elbowed Jon. “How cold was the kitchen? Felt like he was pressing a block of ice on my head.”
“Not very. The keys were in the fridge.” Jon shrugged at Melanie’s incredulous look. “He must have dropped them when he was making himself breakfast.”
“I guess.” Something niggled unsettlingly in the back of Melanie’s mind, but it was quickly eclipsed by worries about her marks as she slid a thumbnail into the peel of the orange.
There were a fair number of other teenagers on the train, unsurprising given the circumstances, and it took them a bit to find seats. When they did settle down, Jon said, “Can you imagine what this would be like if I had gone to Eton?”
“I wouldn’t have got through secondary school, that’s for certain,” Melanie said. “Even if I’d gone to Harrogate. And we’d still be in both places.” She pulled a face. “I know I should want to go…”
“Do you?”
“No. If I’m going anywhere, I’m going to Stockport with you, like we talked about. And anyway, do I really have the right?”
“As much as I do to go to Eton,” Jon pointed out. Melanie grunted. “Have you decided what you might want to study?”
Melanie kicked at the seat idly. “I had a look at that catalog Mr Crewe gave us, and…I’ve been thinking. I know we talked about, like, getting a job at some ivory tower think tank to study the paranormal—”
“Only because we couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Yeah, but I did. You know that show that pops up every Halloween, the one where they go to different places and look into ghost stories and urban ledges and that sort of thing?” Melanie grinned at the look on Jon’s face as the same thought that had occurred to her dawned on him. “We could do that, right? Get a crew together, seek out some ghosts…and, you know, if one of us has a degree in things that go bump in the night, maybe we can still do research into…things…and figure out how to stop them. But we need money to do that. So I thought I’d look into a degree in Media and learn how to do it properly.”
Jon kissed her cheek. “You’re brilliant.”
Marple wasn’t far away—just a couple stops down the line—and every teenager still remaining on the train swarmed off when it stopped. None of the adults, few as they were, seemed to mind; in fact, one gentleman even lowered his newspaper to wish them luck as they departed. Jon craned his neck as they joined the throng stepping out of the station, then waved. “Sam! Hi, Sam, how are you feeling?”
Melanie turned with a smile. She liked Sam—not like that, but at least to talk to. He was a bit of an outcast like they were, and for many of the same reasons, more of a loner, with a dry sense of humor that appealed to her, and he was the only person who could consistently keep up with Jon academically. He was also possibly the most obsessively neurotic, perfectionist person in the entirety of Greater Manchester’s Year Eleven by dint of being desperate to make his parents proud, so he was probably an absolute mess.
Sure enough, he looked not only like he was about to be sick, but like he had probably been sick several times in the bushes. “Like crap. Hi, Jon. Hi, Melanie.”
Melanie fished a tin of mints out of the recesses of her jacket and offered them to Sam; he took two. “You’re going to be fine.”
“But what if I’m not?” Sam fretted. “What if I got so nervous during exams that I failed them all? My parents will never forgive me.”
“And if the sky falls down, we’ll all catch larks,” Melanie said lightly, like she hadn’t been worrying about her exams just as much. “Don’t worry so much, Sam. Sài wēng shī mǎ.”
“Easy for you to say,” Sam said, but his lips did at least quirk upwards in a slight smile.
“Only because she’s practiced it most of her life,” Jon said, drawing a laugh out of both of them. “Look. Let’s make a bet of it. Five pounds says you got more A-starred than I did.”
Sam pursed his lips. “And if we get the same number?”
“Then I pay you both,” Melanie interjected. “We all know I’ll be lucky to get one.”
“Oh, that’s not a safe bet at all. Five pounds you got at least three.” Sam nudged her lightly. “Fine. You’re both on. Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”
“Right. Morituri te salutamus.”
Jon threw his arm around Melanie’s shoulder and hooked the other through Sam’s. “Sounds like you probably did pretty well on your Latin paper.”
They weren’t the only ones going together. There were pairs—siblings and romantic—clusters of friends, and a group of the boys in the rugby club that could only be described as a “pack” who were hyping each other up. But there were also a few solos, people walking towards the schools while wringing their hands or clutching good luck talismans or pretending they didn’t care. Melanie snagged Sophie as they passed her, since she looked like she was about to bolt and refuse to even go, and Cedric attached himself to their group of his own accord while pretending it was just a coincidence. Jon waved to Mason as they passed him, but he didn’t really notice, too focused on counting the beads of his rosary as he murmured a prayer to whatever saint he thought might help him out.
“It’s good to know I’m not the only one nervous,” Sam admitted, looking at Mason over his shoulder as they passed. “I wish I thought there was something out there listening that could help.”
Jon and Melanie exchanged glances, and she knew he was thinking the same thing as her: there was plenty out there, and some of it was likely listening, but it wasn’t likely to be helpful.
They weren’t the first ones to make it to the school, but neither would they be the last. There were a few clumps of students in the bus ports and on the road ringing the building, some yelling with excitement over results and others clearly hyping themselves up to go up the stairs. Melanie had to practically drag Sophie through the double doors, where they threaded through yet more students excitedly yelling about results before they reached the gymnasium, where they had been told to report. There were tables lining the room, each with a letter or set of letters over them. Jon glanced up at them, then turned to the others. “Guess they split them by last name.”
Sam nodded, looking a little sick. “Meet out front to take a look?”
“See you in a few.” Melanie knocked her fist against Sam’s, then Cedric’s, then gave Sophie a quick hug before following Jon over to the table labeled S.
Unsurprisingly, there was a longer line, but Melanie finally got to the front and was able to show her ID to the teacher, who marked her name off on the list and handed her an envelope. Melanie smiled her thanks, waited for Jon to get his, and headed back out front.
Sam and Sophie were already there, both of them looking sick. Melanie joined them. “Do we wait for Cedric or just go ahead?”
“We promised,” Jon reminded her. Melanie rolled her eyes. “He was almost to the front when we were coming out, it shouldn’t be too much—”
“It’s so not fair that there are more last names starting with M than there are anyone else. I mean, come on, shouldn’t there at least be a good number of S names?” Cedric complained, stomping towards them.
“—longer,” Jon finished. Melanie giggled. “Right. Count of three?”
“No, let’s take turns,” Cedric said. “That way we can celebrate together. And you two can go last.” He ripped open his envelope before the others could say anything and pulled out his results, then scanned the sheaf of papers quickly. “Not bad, at least for me. All Bs. Go on, Melanie, you next.”
“Why me?” Melanie grumbled, even as she tore open the envelope.
“Because you’re more likely to have grades closer to mine.”
Jon glared at Cedric for that. Melanie ignored him in favor of pulling out her results and scanning them. “Hey, pretty good! Three As and—holy shit.”
“What?” Cedric demanded.
Instead of answering, Melanie tucked the paper under her arm to secure it, fished out her wallet, and extracted a five pound note she’d meant for a cup of tea or something after getting the results. She handed it to Sam. “You win. Three A-starred.”
“I knew you could do it.” Sam grinned at her. Jon gave her an excited hug, and she caught her papers before hugging him back.
Sophie opened her own papers and studied them. “Hey, me, too! Well, almost. Three A-starred and four As.”
“Does she get five pounds?”
“Shut up, Cedric.” Melanie looked from Jon to Sam and back. “Well? Go on, you two. Let’s see who wins your bet.”
They both tore the envelopes open at the same time, but Sam got his papers out first and scanned them. He gave a shaky exhale of relief. “Seven A-starred!”
Jon looked at his and let out a crow of delight. “Nine!”
Melanie tackled him in a tight hug as Sam, grinning even wider somehow, handed Jon the note she had just given him before joining the hug. Cedric and Sophie jumped in, too—they weren’t close like that, but this was a special occasion and emotions were running high. There was a click and a flash as someone, probably one of the local reporters, took a picture of them all celebrating, and Melanie couldn’t help but think it was a perfect start to a shining new future.