Page 71 of Cross My Heart
His show?Shit. I completely forgot that Kris was doing an open mic night, at a comedy club in town. He’d asked us both to come to support him.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “How did it go?”
“Fine.” He gives a little shrug. There’s silence.
“Well, I want to hear all about it!” I say brightly, trying to cover the awkward vibe. “How about we all go out tonight, my treat? Get some drinks, have some fun. You can tell me all the details.”
They exchange a look. “OK,” Kris says finally. “We could go to Llewelyn’s, in town.”
I wince. I’ve heard them talking about it, and it’s one of the most expensive cocktail bars around. But I know, I’ve got some serious making up to do for missing the show. “Great,” I declare. “See you there tonight at nine?”
“See you.”
They head off together, while I go let myself up to the apartment, and quickly shower and change for the day ahead. I race over to catch my first lecture of the day, and then manage to get in a few hours study at a café before heading back to Ashford College.
I stop by the mailroom, and find Bates is on duty in the main lodge. “Anything fun?” he asks, nodding to the stack of junk mail and student flyers in my hand.
I shake my head. I’ve been holding out hope that whoever sent me the invitation to the Midnights party might reach out again, but there’s still nothing from them. “Not unless you think a ‘Tarts and Vicars’ costume party is fun,” I offer, and he chuckles, sorting packages behind the desk. It’s a lull, and we’re the only ones here, surrounded by packing crates and Ashford merchandise.
“And how are you finding the rest of it?” he asks, his weathered face looking friendly. “Finding your feet yet?”
I flash back to the club last night, how thrilling it felt to be blindfolded and on display like that. Like I belonged.
I cough, “Kind of,” I say vaguely, lingering by the desk. “It’s a lot to get my head around, all the classes and lectures,” I add. “It feels like no matter what I do, I’m still running late, or playing catch-up.”
Especially when my mind is still back in London, sitting in the calm morning sunlight with Saint.
“You’ll find your way,” Bates reassures me. “I’ve been here long enough to know.”
“And you don’t see blind panic in my eyes just yet?” I joke, and he laughs. Then I get a thought. “How long have you been at Ashford?” I ask.
“Going on twenty years now,” he replies.
“Then you must have seen everything,” I say, still acting casual. “All the wild student pranks and parties…”
“Oh yes,” he chuckles. “High spirits and alcohol, it’s a recipe for something alright.”
“My friend was telling me, about all the clubs here,” I continue, carefully getting to my point. “Drinking clubs, secret societies… She swears they’re still around,” I add. “You know, elites getting up to all kinds of things, hazing rituals and bonding ceremonies. But I said she was crazy. People don’t do things like that anymore… Do they?”
I fix Bates with an inquisitive look. He smiles, still methodically sorting packages. “Well, I can’t say that I know anything about that,” he replies. “And even if I did, they’d have sworn me to secrecy, wouldn’t they?”
I give a laugh. “Right. Make sure you didn’t spill their secrets.”
“But if you’re curious about that sort of thing, I remember there was an article a few years back, in theOxford Student,” He names one of the student newspapers. “It caused quite the kerfuffle at the time.”
“About secret societies, here at Ashford?” I ask, remembering to hide my excitement.
Bates nods. “’Course, it was all probably rumors. Someone caused a stink, and the whole thing got retracted, but I’ll tell you, that was a fun week, watching everyone buzz around like ants who lost their queen!”
I smile and change the subject, chatting a while longer about the cricket scores in case Bates thinks I’m too curious about the one thing. But as soon as I say goodbye, and go get settled in the college library, I pull out my phone, and start to search.
I find theOxford Studentwebsite easily enough, full of events and local reporting, but when I try to search anything about secret societies, the results come back empty.
No articles found.
I frown. Looks like Bates was right, and someone managed to get the story completely scrubbed. There’s nothing on the newspaper’s site, or when I try using a search engine instead. The only thing I can find is a cryptic, vague editor’s letter from May three years ago:
‘The Oxford Student editorial board apologizes unreservedly for the article published last week. We regret that it did not meet out usual high standards of accuracy and fact checking. We accept complete responsibility, and disavow all claims, statements, and conclusions made therein. The journalist responsible shall no longer be printed in these pages.’