Black Academy

Chapter 14 - Part 4

Elsa wandered nonchalantly into the east corridor on the second floor. Meredith and Elena's room was easy to find: she knew roughly where it was, and how cooperative of the school to put nameplates on the doors. Glancing quickly up and down the corridor, she leaned close to the door. Not a sound. No scratch of pen, no rustle of a magazine, no murmur of radio; no so much as a snore. Either the room was empty, or Meredith was fast asleep and dead to the world. If she was sleeping, Elsa wold slip away; she was good at moving silently in and out of rooms while other people slept.

At least then she'd know Meredith was OK. At least that would be reassuring. If Meredith wasn't there . . . Well, it would be a shame not to have a scout round. Idly she tried the door handle. Locked, but she hadn't expected anything else. Twisting open Rapunzel's hair grip, she jiggled it into the lock. She could do this with her eyes shut. Literally. She could even do it while she leaned against the door, casually eyeing both ends of the corridor . . . Inside the lock, the end grip caught something. One last wiggle, one last strong push and twist of her fingertips, and it gave with a muted clunk.

Elsa held her breath for a long painful moment, but there was still no sound from the room beyond. She tried the handle again. Silently it gave, and the door swung open. The light in the room was dim, cast by just one rose-pink shaded lamp, but Elsa could see Meredith, lying on top of her bedcovers. She wore embroidered white cotton pyjamas, loose, beautifully clean and with an expensive sheen. She certainly hadn't been wearing these the whole time she's been off sick. The girl lay on her side, facing the door, wild hair loose around her neck and across her forehead.

Her hand was splayed in front of her chest, one leg hooked forward, almost as if she was in the recovery position. Elsa could see all of that, in an instant, quite clearly. And she could see, too, that Meredith's eyes were open. Panicked, she blurted an excuse, but Meredith didn't so much as twitch. Her stare was so blank that for a hideous instant Elsa thought she was dead; then she heard her breathing, shallow and almost inaudible. "Elena?" mumbled Meredith. "That you?" Swiftly, silently, Elsa closed the door. "Elena, please don't." The voice was slurred, but Elsa could hear the tears that Meredith was too weak to shed. 

"Please, not again. 'S enough. Please?" Elsa knew she shouldn't talk to her, but the girl looked so pathetic, she couldn't help herself. "Meredith. Meredith, it's OK." She crouched beside the bed and took Meredith's limp hand. "Elena?" "No. It's me, Elsa Song. Meredith?" The girl didn't seem to have heard. "Please don't . . ." "Meredith," Elsa whispered urgently. "Meredith, I've got to help you. I don't know how. What do I do? Who do I call? Meredith, please. Wake up. Listen." Wildly she glanced around the room. A mobile phone lay on the bedside table; Elsa flipped it open and scrolled down the directory. Emily. Granny Odeta. Josh. Elena. Mum . . .

Mum? What would she say to Meredith's mum? Would Mum have a clue what Elsa was on about? Would she even consider taking her seriously? Nobody believed Elizabeth. Nobody ever believed her. Helplessly, Elsa realised she didn't know how mothers reacted in situations like this. Care home supervisors didn't count. Not the ones she'd had, anyway. She suddenly felt like crying. Was that self-pity? she wondered contemptuously. Or was it that Meredith looked so pitiful, lying there? The way she could hardly speak but she was begging anyway . . . Elsa stared at the highlighted Mum, finger hovering over the keypad.

The door handle vibrated. A key rattled in a lock that was already open. Elsa spun around. A voice spoke outside, exchanging impatient pleasantries with someone in the corridor. She couldn't hear the words, but she'd know the voice anywhere.

Elena.