The day before the fall of Almadel
Dean stood looking out to sea, ankle deep in the freezing waters of the English channel. He was wearing only his trunks, wrapped in a towel, shivering. He watched Jeremiah doing warm ups. The teacher had told everyone to get slowly used to the water before the swim started, in order to prevent cold shock by suddenly jumping in. To this end, the students were alternating between doing jumping jacks and slapping water on their backs and arms, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The swim was a pet tradition of Jeremiah's. He had brought it up in class multiple times. Every year, the last stage of induction for students was to participate in a swimming race to a large rock a few hundred metres from the shore and back. During their first class, Jeremiah had asked with great excitement if any of the new students were swimmers. They were not.
The entire school was currently gathered by the shore, with only three students missing: Emma, Trix and Wilbur, who all claimed to have fallen ill overnight. Mrs Pooley had declared that they should best watch the race from a window on the top story of the school, staying far away from the frigid sea, so as to avoid worsening their condition. Dean kept his eyes on Jeremiah. It was time.
He waded over to where Mrs Pooley was standing, fully dressed but with her trousers rolled up so she could wade into the shallow water by the shore and judge the race. "I forgot my goggles, is it ok if I run back up to get them?" he said.
"Oh, Dean, yes, go quickly, we're starting in a few minutes"
Dean pulled on his shoes and started back up the cliff path, one hand holding the towel around his body to stop it being whipped away by the gusts of wind that plucked at him as he ascended. He used his other hand to steady himself as he climbed, grabbing onto rocks and the branches of the few small bushes that somehow managed to survive in the salty air, growing in handfuls of earth and sand that had gathered in gaps in the stone. The path ran zig-zag up the cliff, leading from the quiet hidden cove below to where the school overlooked the sea, above. He paused for breath half way up and looked back over his shoulder, squinting against the sun. Below, he could see the line of students preparing for the race, the tall figure of Jeremiah enthusiastically leading the warm-ups, Mrs Pooley watching from the side. Everyone was accounted for, it was the perfect opportunity to sneak into the locked room.
He arrived at the top of the cliff and ran for the changing rooms, a small wooden building half way between the sea and the school where students changed for swimming or other sports. He burst into the boys changing room and almost shouted out in surprise when he saw Emma already inside, waiting for him.
"Shhhhh" said Emma, "just tell me which locker to open."
"That one" whispered Dean, pointing to the locker he had seen Jeremiah use while they were changing earlier. "Are you sure you can open it?"
"Oh yes, no problem. Easy". She pulled two hair clips from her pocket. One, she bent into a pick and inserted into the lock on the locker, the other she bent into a hook and pushed in behind the first, to allow her to turn the mechanism while she wiggled the pick. "These locks are so easy, just jiggle a bit and they pop, watch", she jiggled the pick and dragged it back and forth a few times. The lock clicked satisfyingly, allowing her to lift the latch holding the door closed with the other tool.
Dean crouched down beside her and peered into the locker. He didn't need to look long, the key was placed on top of the pile of folded clothes inside, the chain neatly curled up beneath it like a little white egg in a golden nest. He could barely believe the plan was going so well. It was exhilarating to see the events they had worked out on paper a few days before happen in real life. He hesitated for a second, the theft that they had been planning feeling much less abstract now that the target was in sight. This feels like a bad idea he thought.
"Come on, can you see the key?" asked Emma, who was still holding the latch open, waiting to re-lock the locker door.
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"Emma, are we sure we want to do this? I'm getting a bad feeling, I think."
"What? We're in the middle of doing it, babe. You can't get cold feet now."
"Actually, it feels like this would be the perfect point to stop, if we wanted to."
"We're just borrowing it, we'll give it back" said Emma, she smacked him gently on the arm, "we can't just run off now, what about Trix and Wilbur, they're waiting for us."
Dean could imagine exactly what Trix would say. "I can't believe you Dean. You let me down yet again. Why are you so disappointing. Why do you always give up and run. Why can't you DO something for once. Why...
Dean's hand closed around the key. He was surprised at its warmth, he had expected it to be cold and hard, but it reminded him more of holding a small mouse, trembling, terrified, ready to leap from his hand if he were to open his fingers. He passed it to Emma gingerly, "OK, here it is. Good luck, I'm going back to the swim race, I'll see you afterwards" he said, "remember to bring the key back as soon as they've opened the door, we probably only have thirty minutes or so before people come back to change out of their swimming clothes."
"No problem!" said Emma, she took the key and left the changing rooms at a run.
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Emma jogged through the school grounds and back towards the school, Trix and Wilbur should be waiting for her somewhere near the locked door. She examined the small key as she ran. It seemed to be made of ceramic, not metal. The stem was very thin, so thin she could see through it if she held it up to the light. The surface was covered in a translucent white glaze, but beneath she could see lines of red, the thin tendrils all spreading from a single point, a crimson sphere that floated just under the surface near the handle of the key. As she moved the key, the light caught it from different angles, and the red lines seemed to shift and move, forming patterns that would fade and reappear as she watched. It was beautiful.
She slipped through the front door which had been left open a crack, as planned, and entered the cool darkness of the main school building. She skipped a few steps, this was fun.
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Trix paced back and forth nervously. They were at the other end of the corridor from the door: they wanted to stay within sight of it in case someone appeared, but be far enough away that if a teacher did turn up, it wouldn't be obvious what they were planning. She tried not to look suspicious. She had been thinking of excuses in case someone found them here. "We were going to the kitchen to get a hot drink", perhaps. "I wanted to go to the library to get a book", "I am feverish and hallucinating, where am I?". She glanced at Wilbur, he saw her look and gave her a tight grin, then looked away. Trix wiggled her fingers as she walked back and forth, her whole body felt tense, ready. She wanted to move every single muscle at the same time and push out some of that nervous energy, do a backflip and punch the wall or scream and swear, but she controlled the urge and contented herself with the pacing.
"Where is Emma, she should be here by now." she said, mostly to herself.
Wilbur shrugged, "I'm sure she's on her way"
"How do you do that?" said Trix
"Do what?"
"Be so calm all the time."
"I dunno, I find that things tend to work themselves out usually. Worrying just makes people upset, why bother." He hesitated, then stepped closer to her, blocking her pacing route. "I'm a bit nervous myself right now though, to be honest. Listen, Trix. I want to get something off my chest." He spoke very fast, as though he had rehearsed what he was saying. Trix noticed his ears, red against his pale skin. A bad feeling began to brew in her stomach. "I like you Trix. I think you're amazing. Beautiful and strong and, and I think we should go out". He stopped, looking at her. Trix froze. She realised he was holding his breath, he was waiting for a response. She didn't know what to say. She felt a kernel of happiness deep down in her chest, that felt nice it said, how pleasant it might be, to have someone to lean on, someone who feels like that about us . Possibilities flooded into her mind, things she had never really consciously desired or expected, visions of them walking arm in arm, cuddled on the sofa in the library, eating together at Lunch. She realised that long seconds had passed since she last spoke and she was still staring at him. He stared back. She parted her lips slightly, feeling like she had to respond. "Uh" she said. He reached forward, putting a hand softly behind her neck and pulling her towards him. He kissed her. Trix let it happen. She felt the tension in her body fade slightly, and her lips kissed back. It felt wrong. Not unpleasant, just empty, meaningless. She pushed against his chest, "No."
A sound came from the end of the corridor and both of them whipped to look. Emma stood there, stock still, watching them. The bottom fell out of Trix's stomach as her body went horribly cold. Oh no, Emma...Did she see? She felt the guilt seethe through her.
It was too dark to see the expression on Emma's face, but the motion of her arm was clear, she swung it back, then whipped it forward, giving flight to something she had been holding in that hand. The object sailed toward them, tumbling end over end, catching the light and sparkling in the air, white and gold, white and gold. Trix felt like she was watching it in slow motion as the key arced prettily through the corridor, heading with some speed for the hard flagstones of the floor.