Midterms
They told me all of my cages were mental
So I got wasted like all my potential
And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad
I have a lot of regrets about that
I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere
Fell behind all my classmates, and I ended up here
-This is me trying by Taylor Swift
“You did what?”, Penelope demanded.
Eloise swallowed her bite of buttered toast with difficulty, trying not to laugh at the look of horror on Penelope’s face.
“I went to apologize!”
“Couldn’t you have waited till after the exams or something?”
“No.”
“How did you find go looking for his workplace El? You can’t possibly know where he works.”, Penelope asked in a hushed voice as Dev walked by with his hands in his pockets, grumbling something about the food having no flavour. Eloise tore her eyes from Penelope to look at Preston. He walked past and shot her a knowing look.
“I—uh”, Eloise should have known Penelope would pepper her with questions, “I just asked around. I gathered from his conversation with Danbury that he worked for a man named Jonathan in a printer shop.”
Penelope pursed her lips and paused to sip her tea. Eloise returned to her toast, her stomach squirming with guilt.
Truth was, she stumbled from store to store asking for Jonathan’s print shop in utter vain for at least an hour until she saw Preston behind a Fish and chips stall she stopped by for a snack. That didn’t surprise her. What did make her almost drop her plate was the sight of him locking lips with a girl. If Eloise hadn’t yelped, she could have slipped away unnoticed.
Preston and the girl jumped apart at once.
“I am so sorry!”, Eloise had cried, looking at the pretty girl.
“It’s alright”, she smiled but Preston shot her a strange, almost frosty look, “What are you doing here, Bridgerton?”
“I am looking for your mate Sharpe.”, Eloise had responded haughtily.
“Theo Sharpe?”, the girl said with a sunny smile, “Oh yes, he is helping out my dad’s printer shop today. I just snuck out for a break with this one”, she nudged Preston, who smiled sheepishly. Eloise couldn’t help but beam. She didn’t know Preston Thomas much, but they looked adorable together. Monique seemed like the girl who you couldn’t help but feel cheerful around.
“Where is the printer shop?”, she asked, trying to keep her tone casual and light.
“Helm’s Printer store, at Helm street. He will be free in around twenty minutes.”, the girl said. She blinked at Preston who was still looking at Eloise stonily, “Do you two know each other, Preston?”
Eloise had hastily introduced herself,
“My name is Eloise.”, she said briskly, “I am their classmate. I wanted to uh, discuss something with Sharpe.”
“I am Monique”, the girl said cheerfully, “I gotta go, before my sister sends a search party. Nice to meet you, Eloise. I’ll catch you later, Preston.”
Monique pecked Preston on the cheek and walked away.
“Bridgerton”, Preston said quickly, his voice so low and gruff, she had to strain herself to hear him over the noise of the street, “don’t tell anyone you saw us, not even Theo.”
Before Eloise could even open her mouth, he turned and strode off.
“He was helping Jonathan’s brother out”, Eloise told Penelope who was looking at her porridge as if it told her it spent three hours tracking down a classmate to apologize.
“So, you sulked around that store until he came out?”
“Yup, didn’t take long”, Eloise didn’t want to tell Penelope about Red Quill and the meeting.
Penelope shot her an odd look but said nothing.
“How’s revision going?”, Eloise asked tentatively. She had started the previous night, determined to get a headstart. She had barely finished T.S. Eliot’s poem before she fell asleep, slumped in her bed. She had slept so soundly Penelope had to use the spare key to burst into her room in the morning to wake her up twenty minutes before breakfast ended.
Penelope’s scowl deepened, “My exams start a week after yours so Berbruke and Hart are dragging the portions. They will rush through the most difficult topics at this rate. Berbruke needs two weeks to get through one chapter.”
The professors were so slow, the entirety of the Journalism class had to campaign to the University Board of Examinations for their exams to be postponed by a week. Luckily, they had agreed, but the professors were still dragging their feet.
“Awful”, Eloise said, “Have you started studying the subjects that have been completed?”
Penelope shook her head sadly, “It’s like I am running a marathon and my professors tied my shoelaces together.”
“Like your brain is buffering?”
“It’s like the old coffee machine on our floor.”
Eloise snorted and Penelope cracked a smile. Eloise nudged her and Penelope leaned against her, laying her head on her shoulder.
Telling Penelope about the meeting wouldn’t hurt, would it? She had trusted Penelope with her life since she was young. Keeping a secret from her was unimaginable. She didn't want to share her conversation with Theo. She still didn't know if it actually cleared the air or if it made everything worse. With Theo Sharpe, she never knew.
“Pen, listen…”
“Oh my god, there’s another one!”, they heard a voice. Penelope and Eloise whipped around to see Reena run towards them while Erin trotted behind her. They slid in next to them, ignoring the stares. Eloise saw pamphlets clutched in Reena’s hand while Erin looked like she had just rolled out of bed.
“Lady Whistledown strikes again!”, Reena said with glee, reading it out. Erin winced at the volume of her voice, sliding on to the seat next to Eloise and nibbling on one of the cut fruit on her plate.
“Dearest gentle reader,
For those of you who thought I will keep my quill to myself and retreat to the shadows of the desks as exams encroach us, you are surely mistaken, just as a certain Professor.
Keep a hold on your textbooks and don’t drop them to the ground upon hearing this. Turns out, there’s inequality in recognition within education. How could we ever expect inequality in institutions run by a group of wealthy elites? What a shocking revelation, indeed.”
Eloise snorted into her cup of coffee, her spirits lifting instantly. Penelope took the pamphlet and continued reading.
“Professor Fairwater is eating sour grapes. Close friends with members of the board through her wealthy parents and grandparents, she expected the H.O.D. position to fall on her lap. The Fairwaters were distinctly renowned for their contributions to research in English Literature, and our dear old professor probably hoped to milk the legacy to thicken whatever storm she is brewing in that teacup.
Fate on the other hand, sided with Professor Danbury, whose accomplishments and research experience overshadowed Fairwater’s. If you hear something that casts Danbury in a negative light, it is probably a rumour spreading to throw a shadow by a certain vengeful professor. If you wish to drink more water, don’t poison someone else’s well. Certainly, there isn’t much that’s fair about Dr. Fairwater.”
“God”, Eloise shuddered, “I never knew that. It’s disturbing.”
“There’s more.”, Penelope passed it to Erin and returned to her porridge.
Erin continued,
“Now that exam season is approaching, don’t think I haven’t heard all the students cursing out the professors. Let me give you another reason to wish to bury your professors instead of burying your heads in textbooks. Mr. Fredrick, a supposed legend in the Finance department seems to be lining his own pockets with extra money from certain parents. Perhaps he is reading his textbooks on corruption a little too closely.
No exam preparation, no problem, as long as you got a couple extra hundred pounds lying around your mansion that you could slide into Mr. Fredrick’s hands before exam week. Rest assured, your secret is safe…until Mr. Fredrick takes a shot of Mr Black. When the liquor goes in, the truth comes out.”
Eloise laughed along with the rest of them, but she drowned out the remaining paragraphs Erin and Reena took turns reading out by focusing on the last dregs of coffee in her mug. The mention of exams left her queasy. She had so much left to complete and the thought of students paying their way through it made her not want to start her preparations at all.
She gripped her spoon and her guilt. Theo must have already started, maybe even completed a whole unit by now, not that she cared, of course.
“I’ll get going”, Eloise said hurriedly, interrupting Reena as she read about Mr. Berbruke and how ‘if he spent as much time drawing up a decent lesson plan as he does smoking, he’d be more likely to finish the portions before hitting the retirement age’. She hauled her bag over her shoulder, pushing her plate away and ignoring their looks of worry.
By the time Eloise hurtled to the library, it was already 10:30 AM. Her stomach lurched. Half the day was almost over. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She only managed to score so well the previous two semesters because she started studying early. She needed at least four days to memorize details for one unit of topics. She wasn’t like Theo, who if legend held any truth, only flipped through the material two days before a paper. Not that she paid attention to what he did, of course.
If she started just now and studied till 2 PM, only taking twenty minutes for lunch, she might be able to finish writing notes for Frankenstein and Rebecca. She pulled out the syllabus she had printed, as she approached the table she usually occupied, trying to plan out her session. She could study two essays from Literary Theory, since that was the most difficult, but shouldn’t she start with something easier to get it out of the way, or should she leave the manageable stuff for the cramming session at the end?
Eloise blinked, and remembered she still had Eliot’s poem left over from her study session last night. She scanned the rows of books, looking for Elizabeth Drew’s guide to Eliot’s poetry. The books were arranged based on the authors’ last names, in alphabetical order. Someone had placed the book she wanted in the third row from the top, way above her.
Eloise resisted the urge to actually walk into the bookshelf this time. She stood on tiptoe, craning her neck, but her fingers barely brushed the row under the one she was trying to reach. Brilliant. This day could not get worse.
Ignoring the sharp ache in her arm, she tried again. She gripped the shelf with her other hand so she could use it as leverage to hoist herself higher. She was nearly there.
A hand appeared above hers, attached to the sleeve of a familiar blue sweater. The warm fuzzy material grazed the skin of her wrist.
Eloise stilled, still balancing on her toes as the mysterious hand plucked out the book she wanted effortlessly and held it in front of her face.
Eloise made to take the book from the hand but it was swiftly wrenched away. She turned around and could feel a streak of anger coursing through her.
Theo was calmly leaning against the shelf behind him, one leg crossed behind the other. He wore an amused expression. He flipped the book over in his hand and let out a low whistle.
“Starting out with the most difficult stuff as usual, Bridgerton?”
This was the last thing she needed.
“Give it back”, she said, holding her hand out.
“Too early for gratitude, duchess?”
Eloise clenched her fists. Nobody was around. If she could throw just one punch…
Theo’s eyes slid to the clock on the wall and tossed the book into her hands. Eloise could see a tattered copy of Frankenstein poking out of his bag.
“What are you doing here anyway?”, Eloise asked, “it’s the weekend.”
Theo ran a hand through his tousled hair, “I slept here.”
“At the library?”, Eloise asked incredulously. A sudden unwelcome image of Theo slumped over a table, his cheek pressed to his notebook flashed through her mind. She was close enough to see his long thin eyelashes, which she imagined would fan over his cheeks when he closed his eyes—
“Nah”, Theo said, “I slept over at someone’s—”
“I don’t want to know”, Eloise said, in disgust, ignoring the way her insides twisted.
Theo threw his hands up in surrender, “Relax, Dev and I didn’t get up to anything funny, unless you count him nearly trampling and falling on top of me while getting a glass of water.”
“I didn’t ask.”, Eloise snapped.
“Why are you starting out with Eliot?’, Theo asked, looking at the book in her hands, “for the essay we have to turn in?”
A tide of cold dread swept over Eloise.
Eloise gripped the bookshelf, “Oh, God…Fairwater’s essay on Hamlet and Prufrock…”
She had completely forgotten. The essay took up thirty percent of their grade for Modern Poetry and she had not even started.
Theo raised an eyebrow, “Well technically, we have to write a poem and a reflective essay—what’s up? Don’t tell me you forgot. The deadline is in three days. I just finished proofreading mine.”
Eloise blinked, but could barely hear Theo as he spoke. His voice was distorted. She couldn’t hear anything over her roaring pulse, as though something heavy was pressed against her. Heat flooded through the back of her neck and her palms were suddenly sweaty. The wood was slippery under her fingers.
She took large gulps of air, “The essay isn’t our midterm, is it?”
“It is.”, Theo was looking at her oddly, “Didn’t you hear Fairwater, or read the syllabus? We don’t have a written exam for Modern Poetry midterms. We have to submit an essay. We only have a written exam for our finals—Bridgerton, what’s wrong?”
Eloise nearly stumbled. The room was spinning. Something was wrong.
Maybe it was the coffee. The memory of the warm brown murkiness flooded her mind, or was that the wooden floors under her? It was all blurring together, like someone put a spoon in her vision and was stirring it. She remembered the phrase about Fairwater stirring the storm in her teacup, but she couldn’t remember…God, what was she supposed to remember? The syllabus. She dropped her bag and leafed through the syllabus frantically, the papers flipping so fast they were smudges of white, like the wings of a dove fluttering in the wind.
“Wait”, Theo said, “Let me.”
He took the syllabus, his warm, nimble fingers brushing against hers as he gently wrestled it out of her hand. She watched him thumb through the pages, chewing his lower lip. He shoved the page she was looking for under her nose. She read it, her mind slowing to a crawl, every word standing out to her.
There will be no mid-sem examination for Modern Poetry. Students will turn in a poem and reflective comparative essay of at least 1500 words as per instructions shared during the lectures. There will be a final exam at the end of the semester.
“Oh no”, she muttered. She spent two hours studying that damned poem.
What was wrong with her? Her palms were damp, and she wiped them on her sweatpants, only to realize her hands were trembling slightly. Stop it. You’re fine. You can make up for it. Maybe skip lunch, or stay up an extra two hours.
Her chest tightened, like an invisible band had wrapped itself around her lungs and was squeezing the air out of her.
“Bridgerton?”, Theo’s voice grew louder. She dimly registered the sound of his bag hitting the ground as he crouched slightly in front of her. She couldn’t speak, could barely hear him as he said her name. She watched him mouth it. It was strange. It didn’t look like his lips were forming the shape of her surname. The word he used was shorter, sharper.
Her heart was beating too fast. Too loud. She pressed a hand against her chest, as if she could physically calm it down, but the thudding only grew more erratic, each beat echoing like a drum.
“Eloise”, Theo said, his eyes calm and steady despite the slight tremor in his voice, “Eloise, look at me.”
She grabbed the nearest book, feeling the material, the cracked spine and the soft edges of the pages under her fingertips. Eloise brought herself to look at his eyes, round and…How had she never noticed his eyes were hazel? She kept her eyes fixed on the flecks of amber.
“Take one deep breath and exhale.”, he said, “just focus on that.”
She tried, but it came out shaky and shallow. Every shuddering breath she drew only made her vision swarm in front of her.
“I- I can’t.”
“Try a short one then.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a small sharp breath and exhaled.
“Good now a long one. Just focus on that. Forget everything else.”
She felt him tug the guidebook on Eliot from her other hand.
Eloise slowly inhaled, letting the air fill her lungs. It was extremely difficult. Her lungs didn’t seem to allow her to take in more air.
“Open your eyes.”
When she did and looked down, she realized she had slumped against the bookshelf, her legs bent. Theo had crouched further and had bent his head, so his eyes were level with hers.
“Name four things you touch.”
“I know what you’re doing.”, she said through gritted teeth.
“So do it.”, he said cooly.
She felt for another book on the shelf and pulled it out.
“The book.”, she said, pressing her sweaty palm flat against it, rubbing against the soft velvet cover.
Eloise then gripped the edge of a shelf, feeling the smooth, cool wooden surface.
“Two more”, Theo urged.
Eloise rubbed the sharp rings on her fingers. She then looked at him and saw his lips part. Without thinking, Eloise reached over to grab his arm. Theo widened his eyes slightly, but didn’t move. He kept his eyes fixed on her as she felt the warm, soft wool of his sweater.
“Okay”, he said softly, “three things you can see.”
“Books”, she inhaled deeply, “uh, your bag, and…you, I guess.”
She looked at him, and felt a hot flash of embarrassment. She withdrew her hand.
It wasn’t a wrong answer. She could see him, the ray of light warming his hazel eyes to the gold colour of honey, his soft brown curls, the crooked smile on his face, the sharpness of his jaw and the small stubble.
“I’ll take it”, he said gently, “two things you hear.”
“The clock ticking”, she blurted, “and…can I say you again?”
Eloise slowly got to her feet, ignoring the hand Theo held out for her. She felt ashamed, and embarrassed at her loss of control, and that it was Theo who witnessed her humiliation.
“It’s normal—“, Theo started, but fell silent. Eloise ignored him, and left the book dangling limply in his hands. There was a faint ringing in her ears and her mind felt like it was in complete disarray. She could barely absorb that she just wasted another twenty minutes. She was about to walk away when Theo swiftly stepped in front of her.
“Bridgerton, tell me three things about me that annoy you.”
“You got all day, Sharpe?”, Eloise’s response was quicker than she expected, but Theo grinned. He folded his arms and stood in front of her. He wasn’t going to move.
“Fine”, Eloise tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She could feel one point after the other, spearing through her mind.
“I hate that half the time you argue, you do it for the sake of proving another person wrong.
I hate that you write in that loopy cursive and think it makes you better than everyone else.
You raise your eyebrow in that overly pretentious way anytime someone dares to like something that is popular.
You always assume everyone is out to offend you, as if you’re on some moral pedestal.
I also hate the way you can’t comb your hair properly.”
Theo smirked, “That was five, and you didn’t even mention my opinion about Emma. Feeling better?”
Eloise blinked up at him. Her mind had become more cleared. She realized she hadn’t thought about the exam in the past ten seconds. Her exhaustion had whittled her resolve to taper towards a sharp point, piercing the fringes of her mind.
“Don’t believe everything your mind tells you”, Theo said softly, not waiting for a response. He walked past her, “I know being the smartest in the room makes you proud, but not believing every conclusion you jump to keeps you happy.”
Startled by the distraction, she watched him go keep the book on Eliot back in the shelf, somehow unable to tell him that he should take his own advice.
Eloise knew all great artists had works they weren’t particularly proud of. However, the poem was possibly the worst thing she had ever written. She hadn’t planned it. She just let the ink of her pen bleed on to the paper as she feverishly wrote in a caffeinated haze.
I have measured my life out in coffee spoons.
She couldn’t help but relate to the spell of inaction, paralysed by anxiety. Eloise couldn’t shake the feeling that not starting at all was better than trying to write it and failing miserably.
“There is something rotten in the state of Denmark,” , she wrote,
“I measure my life out in coffee spoons,
and by the clock that thuds in my heart, too old to use.
It ticks away like a bomb only my fingers could diffuse.
But my hands are tied behind my back by my own heartstrings
And nothing can save a writer from herself, not even a muse
so all I do is watch the hands of the clock, waiting for the attack.
All we can ever be are mad poets in an attic, listening to our resolves crack.”
After the initial few lines of the poem, it seemed to spiral downwards into an abyss, where her ideas scattered and vanished. Her thoughts swung from “I am a bloody genius whose talent will make Oscar Wilde cheer from his grave” to “I should fling myself upon a swooning couch and let Eliot himself call me a worthless idiot.” She could barely squeeze out another six lines. She tried to focus on her own feelings of anxiety regarding all her work, and her frustration with her abysmal planning and tried writing about that.
She had written nearly 700 words of her essay, comparing Hamlet with Prufrock and analysing all the factors that shaped the characters before realizing she hadn’t referred to the poem she wrote at all. She had hastily squeezed in details, writing as much as she could. Lunchtime had slipped past, and she still hadn’t started studying for her written exams. She could feel a headache creeping in. She hated skipping meals. It made her lightheaded.
The weight of anxiety in her chest never fully dissolved. However after the initial blind panic, Eloise had created a study plan. She rummaged through her notes, her insides squirming with guilt as she saw her carefully curated plans for the story she was working on with Theo. She had spent hours planning and replanning, writing and rewriting the first few chapters. If she had just used some of the time to study…
She blinked, trying to focus on her notes on the Feminist reading of Frankenstein. She closed her eyes, trying to recall details, the points she had just spent thirty minutes staring at. She had changed locations thrice in the past two hours, now perching on a windowsill just outside the library, overlooking the courtyard. All she could think about was how she still had to catch up on the lecture on the Marxist reading of Paradise Lost she missed when she had overslept a few weeks prior.
(Lesson learned: Alcohol doesn’t make you a better writer. It just makes you braver.)
She couldn’t think of a single detail. Apart from recalling random words and snatches of phrases, she kept losing track, she could barely form a full, coherent thought. Every few seconds, she was stealing glances at her notes. Surely she would remember it now. She just saw it. However, when she closed her eyes again, she might as well have been trying to catch clouds with a bubble wand.
“Bridgerton?”
Suddenly, a delicious smell wafted towards her. Her stomach aggressively growled. Eloise opened her mouth, expecting to see a giant meal in front of her and instead was face to face with a bemused looking Theo. He was holding a battered copy of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. Eloise was no expert on mental stability, but she didn’t think mistaking a novel for a sandwich was a good sign.
Theo’s hair was rumpled from the wind. He was wearing the same blue sweater, the white collar of the shirt underneath slightly crumpled. Good, that means it wasn’t the next day. During the previous semester, she once woke up in panic, thinking she slept through all her exams. She tore through the hallway, almost running out of her dormitory building to Danbury’s office in the Academic Building in just her pyjamas. Only when she glanced at the giant calender hung on the wall of the Student Accommodation lobby, she realized she she had dreamt missing her exams, which weren’t going to start until a week later.
“Were you asleep?’, Theo asked.
She shook her head and saw his eyes travel to the notes open on her lap. She swiftly closed her notebook and slid off the window sill.
“Nice try, Sharpe.”
Theo scoffed, “Who’s jumping to conclusions now? I don’t need your notes. I’ve got my own.”
“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”, Eloise asked gruffly. She felt like her head was full of cotton.
“There she is.”, Theo said, a corner of his mouth tugging into a crooked, half-smile.
Eloise ran her hand through her hair and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. Her hair looked like a cat and a mouse fought in it for rights to make a house only to find a bird’s nest that had been there for years.
“What are you doing with Rebecca?”, asked, gesturing towards the novel in Theo’s hand.
“Light reading before an exam.”,he said sarcastically, “Must have slipped under your radar that we have to compare Rebecca’s character to Madwoman in the Attic—”
“Came here to taunt me, then?”, Eloise snapped, “Don’t you have something better to do? Like another person’s story to criticize. What are you hiding behind your back, by the way?”
Theo raised his eyebrow and brought the hand behind his back to the front. Eloise stared. It was a badly wrapped sandwich: toasted slices of bread with every vegetable known to man crammed in between.
“Have you never seen a sandwich before?”, Theo asked.
“I haven’t seen bread since this morning.”
Theo stared at her in disbelief and then, so quickly she thought she imagined it, he extended his hand.
“Take it.”
Eloise’s jaw dropped.
“Are you sure—you’re giving me--”
Theo rolled his eyes, “Shut up and take it before I regret my decision.”
She gently took it out of his hand, careful to not spill any of the filling.
She loved eating more than anything in the world. There was no problem in the world two helpings of a good, warm meal couldn’t soothe, and Eloise was never a picky eater. During exam preparation however, her appetite would switch off. The stress would tie it up in knots. She’d glance at the time and keep thinking,
Let me at least finish this, and then I’ll eat.
Eloise hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she bit into it, almost crying in relief.
“Thank you, Sharpe.”
She didn’t even care that crumbs had dotted around her mouth as she devoured the sandwich, each bite blissful and bursting with flavour. It was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. She really had never appreciated the near-divine experience that eating a sandwich was.
“What time is it?”, she asked, crumpling up the wrapper.
“4 PM”, Theo said, checking his wristwatch. He pointed at her face, his mouth slightly twitching, “Uh, you got a little—”
“Where?”, Eloise asked, her cheeks heating up. She frantically wiped her mouth.
“You can’t do anything right, can you, Bridgerton?’, Theo said, exasperatedly. He moved his thumb towards her face and froze and then slipped his hand into his bag.
“Are you an old man?”, she asked, as he handed her a handkerchief.
“Are you a child?”, he shot back as she attacked her mouth, “You are dabbing the wrong side.”
He gently tugged the handkerchief out of her hand and pressed it against the other side of her mouth. Even though he was not directly touching her, the sudden warmth of his fingers against the fabric sent goosebumps travelling across her skin. The back of her neck prickled, as if an electric charge had been passing through her.
“There.”, he said, removing his hands. Eloise fumbled, catching the handkerchief before it fell, “Now if you don’t mind, I have to make some notes too.”
He turned around and strode off, leaving Eloise incredibly confused, her fist clenched around the handkerchief and hungry for another sandwich. Maybe ten, with something stronger than her usual evening tea.
“Good luck!”, she shouted at his retreating back. He turned around, his thick brown hair catching the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“I don’t need it, Bridgerton.”
Eloise clutched her notebook to her chest, “We’ll see about that. See you at the results board.”
He nodded, “Not if I see you first.”
The only comfort of exam season was that everyone was in the same exact boat. The campus had been blanketed by silence so thick any sharp laugh would attract scowls. Eloise was starting to understand why Penelope mutinously muttered “What is there to laugh about this bloody early in the morning?” every day when they passed by anyone who dared to giggle.
The next few days had warped into a blur of hurriedly scarfed down meals and libraries that she could only see through drooping eyes from lack of sleep.
“I swear”, Penelope told Eloise exasperatedly, holding her by the wrist as she accidentally almost stirred her coffee with a pencil instead of a spoon, “You are drinking more coffee than water. You are worse than Colin.”
“How are things with you two now?”
“Go back to your poetry.”
There was one improvement: Penelope and Colin seemed to have forgotten whatever they squabbled about and had started taking turns to bring meals from the dining hall to Eloise’s room so they could eat together in between bites of revision notes.
Eloise couldn’t tell when one day ended and another started. The night before the first paper, Literary theory, she had re read her notes so many times the words were becoming mere smudges of ink. She could barely tell one theorist from another, although Penelope assured her that brains tended to feel scrambled the night before exams.
“You always perform better when you are nervous.”, she told Eloise, “however cocky you act--”
“I am not cocky.”, Eloise said thickly through a mouthful of biryani Reena bought for them to save them from another flavourless dinner at the dining hall, “Sharpe is cocky. Why do you assume I am the conceited one? ”
“Don’t make me answer that.”, Penelope said reproachfully.
“Penelope, don’t be mean.”, , Colin said airily, “Go back to your poetry, Eloise.”
“You have literary theory, right El?”, Penelope said, “There is no poetry in her syllabus.”
“Oh, shut up.”, Colin yawned.
“Ask nicely.”
“Could you please shut up?”
“You first.”
“Your wish is my command, Pen.”
It was a rare, noiseless night in the dormitory as everyone had to report in less than nine hours for the exam at 8:30 AM. Even Colin and Penelope had fallen silent. Colin was studying for his exam while Penelope was scribbling something in the corner of Eloise’s room.
The hours trickled by like water, similar to the information slipping through her brain. Eloise felt like she was stuck on the topic, unable to commit anything to memory.
Eloise didn’t remember falling asleep but woke up, her stomach churning. Colin had left. Penelope had fallen asleep on the same bed. She was curled up next to her, her red curls fanned around her. Penelope had classes for the entire week while Eloise wrote her first three exams. In the following week, Penelope had four papers continuously while Eloise had her last two. Both their exams ended at the same time and she was already looking forward to it.
Careful not to wake her up, Eloise tiptoed around the room. In the weak lamplight, she could see Penelope’s hand clenched around a page which looked like it was written in Colin’s handwriting. Only he wrote his g’s in such an odd way. As she stepped closer, she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table next to Penelope.
Her heart plunged to the bottom of her stomach like a stone dropped from a cliff.
It was 8:15 AM.
Eloise tore through the room, throwing her things into her bag, only pausing to change her pants and brush her teeth. As she picked up her Literary Theory notebook, a handkerchief fell out of it. Sharpe’s handkerchief. She had been absentmindedly using it as a bookmark. She clenched her fist around it, the softness of the fabric warm against her hand even in the crisp, cool morning air. She pocketed it.
There were two minutes left to 8:30 by the time her hit the gravel outside the dormitory. Her heart was hammering in her ribcage as she sprinted towards the building.
“Out of the way”, she snarled, nearly knocking aside two Journalism first years as she ran up the stairs. Her chest was burning but she didn’t stop even as her legs ached. Scrambling for purchase on the staircase railing, she took two steps at a time until she reached the fourth floor.
“I’m—here.”, she gasped, clutching a stitch in her side as she reached the exam room. She was ten minutes late. God, she could have finished planning and the first paragraph of an answer in this time.
Fairwater eyed Eloise with reproach. Eloise could only imagine what she looked like in her disheveled state, wearing the oversized, worn flannel that belonged to her brother, Anthony. Eloise hadn’t bothered showering, or even running a comb through her hair.
Eloise handed her the hall ticket, wishing she had a least sprayed some perfume and wore a shirt she hadn’t slept in. Her stomach growled loudly. Fairwater muttered something under her breath. Eloise felt sweat bead at her hairline and without thinking, grabbed the handkerchief from her pocket to dab at her face.
Instinctively, she caught Theo’s eye. He was sitting in the front seat and had looked up from the question paper to give her an amused look, his eyes glinting behind his spectacles. Spectacles? Eloise didn’t even know he wore reading glasses.
Eloise gave him a scowl but her expression turned into a look of horror as she walked in and looked at her reflection in the window. Although, she didn’t think the horror of her reflection could compare to the exam.
The first question was the only one that didn’t make her want to cry. She knew Rebecca back to front. After that, each question was worse than the previous. She spent nearly one precious minute blinking at the ceiling like the rickety tubelights would give her the answer in some sort of magical morse code. However, every time she zoned out, the sight of Theo scribbling furiously in his answer sheet wrenched her back to her own.
By the time she was halfway through the paper, she was convinced her professor had mind reading powers. The only explanation was that he could comb through her mind to know which topics she hadn’t prepared enough for, and was somehow sadistic enough to only ask questions from those topics.
As she wrote the last two essays, she could see her handwriting get messier. Half the information about M.H Abrams and Paul deMan had marched out of her brain under the time pressure. All she could churn out was the same idea reframed in different ways without planning anything. No doubt all the points she missed out on would rush back just as the exam ends. She couldn’t even think of anything except lunch.
When the bell rang at the end, Eloise leapt up, rolling up her answer sheet. She was just happy it was over.
“Alright, Bridgerton?” Theo asked, walking past her as they exited the exam hall, “Thought two hours were too much for you?”
Eloise’s grip on the handkerchief tightened in her pocket. She saw his eyes slide down to it but he said nothing, merely pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.
The rest of her papers went way better than the first, considering she actually woke up on time for them.
Her next two papers were Romanticism and Victorian and Renaissance literature. She nearly mixed up some of the poems but managed to wring every point she could remember out of her mind like a wet towel. Half of her energy was wasted in just trying to recall the points. She didn’t want to think about how she wrote them.
“Two more”, she told herself as she collapsed into bed.
Women’s writings went splendidly. She and Sharpe were the last ones left in the room, requesting for additional sheets as her mind kept supplying her with more ideas every time she thought she was close to completing an answer.
Best of all, Creative Writing required her to compare the plot structures of two novels written in the same genre and her personal favourite, a 500 word descriptive writing piece along with a reflective essay. To make it even better, she could see Theo a few seats ahead, slowly clicking the back of his pen, deep in thought. She and Theo sat for the entire duration of the exam, only pausing to scowl at each other every time one of their classmates left the room. It was like they were challenging each other to leave first. They ended up finishing at the same time, and Eloise left the room without sparing Theo a glance.
Her head felt miraculously clear. She could feel all the tension melt from her shoulders and she breathed in the cool air as she stepped into the courtyard along with the rest of her classmates.
“We are free!”, Penelope punched her arm into the air. Colin was next to her, leaning against a tree, with an arm around her, holding a falafel he got from the cafeteria. He handed one to Eloise, who devoured it with glee.
“Party! At the lake!”, he pressed his finger against Penelope’s mouth as she opened her mouth, “Non-negotiable, Pen! You’ve earned it.”
Penelope playfully bit his finger, laughing as he yelped, “I wasn’t going to argue.”
A short walk later, the university faded behind them, replaced by the shimmering expanse of the lake. It rippled in the sunlight like a magical carpet, bracketed by thick tufts of bushes and tall trees. The sunlight sparkled as it dissolved into the water like liquified glitter. Penelope held Colin for support as she yanked off her socks and shoes, collapsing into the ground, pulling him down with her.
A gentle breeze rippled along the grass, and the wind whispered through the trees. Eloise, Penelope and Colin sat on the grass, watching the others rip off their clothes and plunge into the water as the leaves from the trees loosened themselves from the branches and twirled in the air, landing in the water. Preston Thomas and Dev Menon were a few feet from them, skipping stones, watching the concentric circles that spread lazily across the surface of the water each time a pebble plopped against it.
“God, I never want to write an exam again.”, Colin said, “If I think about studying, I just…”
His head dropped on to Penelope’s shoulder and he snored loudly.
Penelope flicked her fingers against his forehead but didn’t shove him off like Eloise expected her to, “What happened to your new years resolution to get better grades—”
“Who needs grades when I have charm?”, Colin lifted his head and flipped his hair, smiling and waving. Eloise turned and saw some of his classmates on the other side of the lake, who seemed to be beckoning him to join them. They were taking beer bottles out of a large crate.
Colin got up and dusted off his pants.
“Charm won’t save you if I push you into the lake.”, Penelope said, getting up too.
Colin grinned at Penelope, “Not if I push you first.”
Before she could react, Colin lunged toward her, scooping her up in one fluid motion.
Eloise immediately rolled out of the way. Colin tightened the grip of his arm around Penelope’s waist and hoisted her higher. She shrieked, kicking and flailing as he carried her into the shallow water, her round face brilliantly pink.
“Colin, you PRAT!”, she screamed, “Eloise, help me!”
Eloise was laughing louder than she had in days, as Penelope got redder and redder. She draped herself over Colin’s shoulder and started beating his back with her fists, her red hair tumbling down like a curtain over her head.
“Put me down!”
“Your wish is my command,” he said with mock gallantry, before dropping her unceremoniously into the lake with a giant splash.
“Colin!”, Eloise yelled, as Penelope emerged, spluttering and sopping wet. Wet strands of her hair clung to her face as she gasped for air.
Colin was doubled over, laughing, “God, Pen, you should see your face. You’re ador—HEY!”, he yelled as Eloise placed her hands flat against his back and shoved him. Penelope burst into giggles as he tumbled into the water, sending large splashes of water over her. He sprayed droplets of water everywhere as he emerged. He shook his hair vigorously and Penelope squealed, trying to swim away.
“No you don’t !”, he said, with a mischievous glint in his eye, splashing water against her, watching the waves froth against her.
“Don’t stand there all dry, El!”, Penelope shrieked in delight.
“Must we pull you in?”, Colin said, wading through the water to get to her.
But Eloise wasn’t listening.
Her eyes were fixed on the other side of the lake, where Colin’s friends were, or rather, the group next to them.
“El?”, Colin had frozen halfway. Penelope was staring at her in concern.
Raised voices floated towards her from the other side of the lake, slicing through the laughter. Eloise slowly walked over. Her insides squirmed with dread. People around her were quietening, tearing away from their conversations to look over at the commotion.
Eloise could feel every hair stand on edge as she saw what was happening. Victor Crane was leering over a figure, a tall, dark haired figure who was a little too familiar. She caught a glimpse of his sharp side profile, taut and tensed, and his balled up fists.
It was Theo Sharpe.
Victor said something, and a prickle of foreboding wound its way down Eloise’s spine like a snake. His hand was inching towards Theo, his fingers mere millimetres away from his shoulder. Theo smacked his hand away and Victor’s face twisted. His friends bracketed them, hulking and sneering.
“Get away!”, Theo hit Victor on the chest. The sound clapped through the air like thunder and Eloise heard a gasp, realizing it came from her. Victor did something horrible. He laughed.
This was a joke, Eloise told herself. She pleaded with anyone who was listening. This was a joke. It had to be. She looked around. Everyone had their eyes fixed on Victor and Theo. Someone was groping around the beer crate, his eyes fixed on the scene while his fingers were inches away from the bottle. One girl was pouring beer into her cup, without realizing the cup was full. Eloise backed away, focusing on the way the rivulets of the liquid flowed down the girls’ knuckles and splashed against the ground. The birds were twittering madly, and the wind blew through the branches in sharp whistles.
A yell wrenched her focus back to Theo or rather where Theo was just a few seconds ago.
Several people screamed and Eloise felt her stomach bottom out. She could see the top of Theo’s head bobbing over the surface of the water.
Laugh, Eloise internally pleaded, please let this be a joke.
Without realizing, she had walked closer. Everything seemed to have slowed down. Her legs seemed to be made of lead as she stared.
Theo resurfaced and Eloise’s shoulders involuntary sagged in relief. Theo gasped, his hair sticking to his face. He spat out water and flailed his arms as he tried to float.
“He’s getting out!”, she heard Penelope’s relieved voice behind her.
Eloise turned around when screams split the air. Her vision was obscured by the people around her running forward. Eloise elbowed her way through the press of people around her, ignoring the yelps as she tread on their shoes. Victor’s friends jumped into view, like a wall, blocking them. The crowd immediately stopped, and Eloise couldn’t blame them. His friends were looking at them like they were ready to crack their skulls with a flick of a wrist.
“What’s going on?”, Penelope asked, gripping Eloise’s wrist as the crowd scattered. Eloise shook her off, craning her neck to see.
“Bloody hell!”, Colin launched himself forward but Penelope gripped the back of his jacket, holding him back.
Victor’s hand was on top of Theo’s head and with a snarl, he pushed him back in. Eloise could see the veins in Victor’s neck jump as he tightened his grip on Theo. His friends laughed and to Eloise’s horror, one of them tried to grab Theo’s hand which had shot in to the air. It painfully reminded Eloise of how he raised his arm in class, and how she felt like breaking his fingers.
Theo’s hand whipped in an arc, droplets spraying everywhere, but as he tried to pull himself up, Victor’s friends jumped forward. Three hands, piling on top of each other covered Theo’s head, fingers wrapped around his hair.
Together, they plunged him into the water, deeper…and deeper.
She could barely hear Penelope and Colin screaming her name as she sprinted. She tossed her coat aside and swiftly pulled her jumper off.
“ELOISE!”, Colin and Penelope lurched towards her but two of Victor’s friends sprang towards them.
“Don’t touch her!”, Colin snarled, pulling Penelope behind him by her wrist.
One of them lumbered towards Eloise as she ripped off her shoes and socks. She took one last look of the sky before plunging into the icy deep.
The ripples of water lapped against her skin and the cold slapped her in an overwhelming wave, stealing the breath from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut as her clothes sagged around her, sticking to her. She could remember her father’s voice, soft and steady during her swimming lessons. The panic clawing up her throat dulled and all Eloise thought about was the water gliding against her, every cold splash stinging her face like icy needles. Eloise powered forward, cutting through the water with her strokes. Her chest felt tight and every muscle in her body was drawn like an arrow.
She kept her eyes fixed on Theo, who was struggling to push himself up. The screams had softened into mere echoes. She barely registered the look on people’s faces as she turned back briefly to take a small intake of air. Theo had sunk now, hardly visible under Victor’s grip. He was submerged.
She caught a glimpse of Victor’s look of shock when she approached. One of Victor’s friends had Theo’s hand in his and with a grin, was bending the fingers back.
The water seemed to be weighing her down. Every limb of hers was aching like it had been beaten. With a great inhale and a spurt of energy she dove forward and grabbed Theo by his shoulders under the water. Victor’s friends reached for her but paused. Taking advantage of that hesitation, Eloise wound her fingers around Theo’s collar. She yanked him, with all her strength, towards her.
Two more pairs of hands suddenly grabbed Theo and Eloise whirled around in panic, expecting more of Victor’s cronies. However, it was Reena Deshpande and Erin Quinn. Erin was red in the face while Reena, her wavy black hair plastered to her face gritted her teeth, as they grabbed Theo’s arms. The three of them pulled him towards them together. Eloise felt the girls press against her, their shoulders pressed with hers.
Eloise felt the breath leave her lungs as they got Theo free, his head knocking against her ribs.
His head was out of the water now. Water and bile dribbled out of his mouth. He was shivering and his eyes were barely fluttering, a slit of his eyes revealed.
Victor yelled, lunging forward. He grabbed Theo’s feet which had kicked up, spraying water everywhere.
“Let him go!”, Reena shouted as Victor gripped Theo’s feet and pulled them towards him.
Loud splashes made them turn around to see Colin and James Maguire plough through the water.
Eloise had forgotten what a good swimmer Colin was. His white shirt was soaked and he was trembling violently, but he wasn’t even out of breath.
“Colin!”, Erin saw Penelope at the shore, flanked by Preston and Dev. She was holding…Eloise blinked.
“Are those…”, Reena panted, struggling to grip Theo, “the beer crates?
Penelope was doubled over, catching her breath. She handed the crates to Preston and Dev. They launched them, and Eloise nearly gasped as they arced through the air. Victor’s friends leapt out of the way as the crates splashed into the water, bobbing on the surface. Colin grabbed them, tossing one to James.
“Erin, move!” James barked, flinging water from his hair. The boys lunged forward and knocked Victor’s hands out of the way. They raised the crates and brought them down against Victor’s arms. Eloise closed her eyes and turned away, as a loud crack resounded through the air. Yells pierced the air, but all Eloise could focus on was Theo, suddenly freed from Victor’s grip. Erin, Reena and Eloise, panting, hoisted him up. Eloise wrapped her arms around his chest, feeling his ribs under his shirt.
She felt for his heart, but before she could get a grip, Erin and Reena had grabbed his arms.
It was exhausting, carrying him and swimming. His weight nearly dragged them down but they kicked their feet, splashing against the water even as pain tore through them. Eloise could feel her muscles straining, pain tearing through her bones. She fought to keep herself afloat as her breath came out in ragged gasps. All she wanted to do was let go.
Thankfully, Preston waded through the lake, waist deep. He grabbed Theo and pulled him closer to Dev who hoisted him on to the shore. Eloise could feel her body almost shutting down as she approached the land. Penelope, now crying, threw herself forward and pulled Eloise up.
“Eloise!”, she yelled. She had the coat Eloise had thrown aside.
Eloise dodged her and sprawled on to the grass. She gulped in air, trembling violently. She let Penelope wrap her up in the coat, limply putting her arms through the sleeves.
“Sharpe!”, she gasped. Theo was collapsed on the ground.
“He isn’t moving.”, her voice cracked. She grabbed his head, wet and cold, “Why isn’t he—What—”
“Eloise”, she felt Colin’s wet hand on her shoulder. He was breathing heavily, water dripping from the tip of his nose and chin, “Get off him.”
“No!”, Eloise snarled. The panic was back, thudding through her. She grabbed Theo’s limp wrist, looking for a pulse. Her hands were shaking too much.
Theo was motionless on the grass, his skin pale and lips shriveled. Water dripped from his clothes, pooling beneath him, and his chest was eerily still. She had never seen him this quiet, this….lifeless.
Preston crouched beside him. Eloise’s heart was pounding louder than the shouts of the crowd behind her.
Preston pressed two of his fingers against Theo’s neck.
“Nothing”, he said, his eyes wide. That one word was all it took.
Dev got on all fours. He tilted Theo’s head back, pinched his nose shut, and lowered his mouth to his, forcing a breath into his lungs. His chest barely rose, and panic clawed at Eloise.
She locked her hands together and pressed down on his chest, counting aloud. ‘One, two, three…’ The resistance beneath her palms felt unnatural. Sweat mixed with the cold lake water on her forehead as she worked, her voice breaking.
“Sharpe. Wake. Up”, she let out each word with each count, “I. Will. Kill. You.”
“Eloise”, Erin had her arms around her, “Please, let yourself breathe.”
Penelope and Erin tried to haul her up but Eloise fought them back. Preston had taken over, pressing his interlocked hands down on Theo’s chest, pausing as Dev blew into his mouth. The scene seemed to refract and fragment through Eloise’s eyes. She felt numb to everything, except Penelope who was refusing to let go of her.
Time seemed to stretch and wind around them like a noose. Every second felt like an eternity.
Preston was pressing his hands on Theo’s chest with his face screwed up in determination. The tears clung to the tip of his chin before splashing against Theo’s shirt. With each breath Dev blew into Theo’s mouth, Eloise could feel every part of her straining.
“Look away”, Reena urged, shaking Eloise, “Worrying won’t help.”
“We need a medical professional guys.”, Colin said, his teeth chattering, “We also need someone to drive us back. We can’t walk back in this weather dripping.”
“I’ll go get someone—“, Penelope offered.
“You stay here.”, Colin and Eloise said in unision.
“Preston, take over. One of you do compressions”, Dev said, his voice clipped, “I’ll go. I’m the only one fully dry. The rest of you stay here, in case…in case Victor comes back.”
He patted Preston on his back and strode off, slightly trembling even though he was completely dry.
Preston shifted so he was next to Theo’s head.
“Come on man”, Preston groaned, resting his hand on Theo’s head as he bent low, “I need to tell you about Monique.”
As Penelope raised a hand to wipe her eye and Eloise freed herself in an instant. She launched herself towards Theo, ready to do compressions. She brought her hands against his ribs over and over. She remembered the rules. She'll do 30 compressions. Preston will do 2 rescue breaths.
“Wake up…Wake up…”, she muttered, her eyes fixed on his pale face “Sharpe, don’t make me complete that stupid story by myself.”
Eloise clenched Theo’s shirt. Even lifeless, he made her blood pressure rise.
“Theo, Theo, wake up.”
Preston looked at her in shock. She stared at Theo, suddenly realizing this was the first time she used his first name.
Her trembling hands hovered above his chest when she heard it—a wet, rattling cough broke the silence. Eloise jerked back, staring in disbelief as Theo’s body spasmed and water poured from his mouth.
“Theo”, she whispered again. Her arms were shaking, the pounding reaching a crescendo in her head. Theo turned his head weakly, choking and spluttering. His eyes fluttered open, and then widened when he saw her.
“Bridgerton?”