The Death House by Sarah Pinborough Page A

just want to go back to the dorm on my own. Suddenly she bursts into laughter.
    ‘God, you’re so thick sometimes.’ She twists around so she’s facing me. ‘I like Jake. I don’t fancy Jake. It’s not Jake I’m asking about girls.’
    I stare at her. Nothing is working in my head. There’s just a mad humming as my blood rushes in all directions around my body with the switch of emotions. Before I can say anything – not that I have anything to say – she leans in and pulls me towards her by my pyjama top. My face doesn’t know where to go and my nose bangs into hers and then she tilts her head and she’s kissing me.
    This isn’t like that other kiss. This time, despite my terror of being shit at it, I feel like I’m going to explode. My whole body is shaking. Her face is warm in my hand and I slide the other nervously around her waist, feeling her nightshirt crumple and crease. She smells like freshly washed cotton with something alive and earthy wrapped in it. Her tongue is hot and still carries the lingering mint of toothpaste as it presses and turns around mine. We kiss for what feels like a minute and for ever, and when we finally break free I’m breathless and my body is on fire, throbbing.
    ‘Wow,’ I croak. She giggles.
    ‘Good kisser.’
    ‘You were okay, too,’ I say, trying to get myself under control. The moment’s broken by a small squawk between us.
    ‘Oh, poor Georgie!’ As we turned towards each other to kiss, the blankets folded over him, and now his beak pokes out from somewhere between our legs. As Clara carefully picks him up and puts him back in his box, his head turns this way and that and he ruffles what feathers he can and cheeps as if reprimanding us for forgetting him. We both giggle. I feel good. I feel amazing. I feel alive.
    ‘We should head to the dorms soon,’ she says.
    I nod.
    ‘You take your stuff and go. I’ll put him back.’ I’m panicking slightly. There is no way I’m standing up in front of her yet. Not in my thin pyjamas. If we’d done this in the cave, at least I’d have my jeans on.
    ‘Are you sure?’ She kisses me again, short and sweet this time, and my whole body aches. ‘And for the record, you’re way better looking than Jake. And funnier.’
    ‘So are you.’
    She laughs again. I like the sound of it. I like the way her hair falls so wild around her face. I like the way she’s so full of energy. What I like the most is the way she likes me.
    She bundles up her blankets and pillow and heads to the door. I watch her go, her bare legs doing nothing to help my throbbing subside. She pauses in the doorway.
    ‘Isn’t it strange?’ she says. ‘You’ll be my first proper boyfriend. And my last.’ She’s wistful. ‘Strange but wonderful. Like it’s meant to be.’
    And then she’s gone, disappeared into the corridor, leaving me a trembling mess, alone in the night. Boyfriend. She called me her boyfriend.

 
    Eleven
    ‘I heard that pair from Dorm Two talking about it in the playroom,’ Louis says. ‘They were calling it a miracle. Said they might get baptised, too.’
    ‘What a pile of shit,’ Tom says, sneering.
    We’re all staring at the new poster in the hallway. It’s brightly coloured, with glued-on glitter twinkling at the corners. Where does Ashley find all that crap? Why would the house even have glitter and glue? Who thinks of this stuff? The writing is large and almost artistic, the letters curling at the edges of each word declaring a ‘Celebration Service for Joe’s Recovery!’ and I wonder if Harriet is now in charge of the posters. I’m with Tom. It’s all bollocks. It’s not a fucking miracle. Joe just got over his flu.
    ‘Should we take it down?’ Will asks. ‘Before Jake sees it?’
    ‘Why?’ Jake won’t do anything about Ashley’s church. He’s not stupid. He knows Matron knows about it. Who cares what Jake thinks, anyway? And if he wants to take Ashley on, then that’s Ashley’s problem, not