by Sofia Daniel
He smirked. “We have something extra special planned for you. It will send you running for the hills. Make sure you hone those trollop skills. You’ll need them.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Let me guess? I can avoid all of this torment by booking the next flight to the States.”
“I don’t care where you go, as long as you leave my academy.” His voice was glacier-hard.
“That’s not going to happen.” It hurt to say the words. I wasn’t particularly enjoying my time here at. Even though Park Prep, had its share of mean girls, they hurt egos, not eyes.
“Very well.” Edward straightened. “Then you give us tacit permission to torment you as we please.” He spun on his heel and strode back to the head table. With a fake giggle, Patricia, his doppelgänger of the day. scurried after him.
Charlotte stood over us, nostrils flaring. “What did you mean earlier?”
“Me?” I widened my eyes. “Didn’t Blake tell you about the recording of you sucking him off like a pornstar?” I shook my head. “Someone so quick to call others trollops really should be careful what they put in their mouths. Especially when they’re looking to marry rich.”
She bared her teeth. “I don’t believe a word of what you’re saying, bitch.”
“Oh!” I imitated her accent. “What did Henry say about me? Why am I only the best fellator in Elder House, shouldn’t I be the best in the academy?”
Red bloomed across her cheeks. “You…” She was probably going to call me a trollop again but thought better of it. “What do you want?”
“Get Edward to call off the prank.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Fellate him into submission. You’re a natural at that.”
She turned to glare at Rita. “Utter a word of this to anyone, and I’ll slit your throat.”
“Touch my friend and I’ll slit yours,” I hissed back. “Now, fuck off and get to work, fellator.”
Charlotte sucked in a deep breath through her flared nostrils, curled her lip to utter some kind of insult, and then deflated. After shooting us a hateful stare, she spun around and stomped back to the head table.
Rita leaned into me. “Was all that true?”
“I have a recording of Charlotte colluding with Blake to make Henry fall in love with her.”
“Really?”
“But Charlotte thinks I recorded what happened later… the blow job she gave him in payment!”
Rita bit down on her lip. “That’s… Oh my!”
I grinned. “Now, they’ll leave me alone.”
“I hope so.” Her brows drew together. “But they always seem to find a way to win.”
Two days later after lunch, my phone beeped during Creative Writing. Mr. Weatherford, our teacher, stopped talking. “Did someone bring a mobile phone into my class?”
“No,” everyone chorused.
“Whoever did it will have their handset confiscated for the rest of the term.”
I slid my hand into my pocket and squeezed the ‘off’ button. Next time, I wouldn’t forget to put it on silent. For the rest of the class, I couldn’t focus. The matron and cleaners usually came into the room between breakfast and first break. Whoever was in my room had to be there for malicious intent. The class trudged on for an eternity, and I longed to leave and check my phone. Since the cameras were positioned everywhere in the room, we’d see where the interloper went, and what he or she damaged.
“Homework,” said Mr. Weatherford. “For next week, I’d like poems in the following structures: iambic pentameter, limerick, and haiku. Extra credit for those who pen their works using the same subjects and the same vocabulary.”
I bolted out of the class and into the nearest girl’s bathroom, powered up the phone, and watched the videos. Mr. Carbuncle stepped into the room and folded his arms across his chest while Charlotte searched through my desk, pulled back my sheets, and rifled through my closet and drawers. She left Rita’s side of the room untouched and didn’t enter the bathroom. She’d been looking for my phone.
I curled my lip and headed for the headmaster’s office. This was the evidence I needed to bury her. And that creepy, bribe-taking janitor. There was no point in calling on our housemaster as the man had clearly given up.
At first, the headmaster’s secretary suggested I speak to Mr. Jenkins, as the headmaster was in meetings all day and couldn’t see students. When I told her I would take the matter up with Rudolph Trommel, the door opened, and the headmaster stepped out and ushered me into his office. As with the last time I saw him, he didn’t wear academic robes and donned a tailored, charcoal-colored suit with a bright blue tie.
“Miss Hobson.” He leaned the backs of his legs against his desk, face pinched with distaste. “What can I do for you?”
“Are students allowed to break into other students’ bedrooms?”
He straightened. “Of course, not. Theft is a punishable offense and will be disciplined both by the school and the police.”
I pulled out my phone, pressed the security camera icon, and showed him the footage. “Then why is Charlotte Underwood ransacking my room with the janitor’s help?”
His lips thinned when I said the word ‘janitor.’ As if saying ‘caretaker’ would make the situation any less dire. Without looking at my screen, he walked around to his desk and sat. “Miss Hobson, phones should be left in your bedrooms during class hours.”
I spluttered. Was that all he could say in the face of a bribed janitor and a pillaging student? “Well, it looks like I’ll have to take this matter to the authorities.”
He rose from his seat. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, sir.”
He stretched out his hand. “Give me that phone.”
I stepped back. “If you want to look at the videos, I’ll email them.”
The headmaster jerked his arm, and in a voice laden with menace, he said, “I won’t ask you again.”
I took a few steps back and slipped the phone into the inner pocket of my blazer. If he wanted it, he’d have to tackle me to the floor and get it himself. With his secretary outside and staff teaching in nearby rooms, I doubted he would risk a scandal if I screamed.
He remained behind his desk, face so red, the flush showed through his thinning hair. “Recording devices are prohibited and violate the privacy of the students. Give me that phone.”
“People upload videos on the Mercia-Net all the time, and you do nothing.” I folded my arms across my chest. “You only seem to want to intervene when students are committing crimes that will bring your academy into disrepute.”
His lips flattened, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed with disgust. “Five demerits. Ten, if you don’t leave immediately!”
Chapter 9
By the time I rushed back to my room, Charlotte had already gone, and she’d straightened up her mess. It would be a futile effort, but I knocked on Mr. Jenkins’ door anyway and showed him the evidence of the ransacking, but he also asked me to hand over my phone. I left his office without comment. Not only was he powerless against Edward and his friends, he actively tried to protect them from the consequences of their actions.
I found Charlotte at dinner, sitting next to Blake with her back ramrod straight, as though she was directing a lesson on perfect posture. Blake also spotted me and grinned. It was the kind of smile that would make a girl’s toes curl up to her ankles and her thighs squeeze together with need. The kind that would get her to agree on anything… even something dangerously stupid like public fellatio.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I pressed my lips together to hold back my reaction. It didn’t work, so I gave myself a mental slap and focused on the image of Charlotte going through my things under the watchful eye of Mr. Carbuncle.
She raised her chin. “Do you have something for me, Trollop?”
I tapped my smartphone and played the recording. “What were you doing in my room, Underwood?”
The haughty expression melted into slack
horror. Her thin lips parted, and her vacuous, hazel eyes darted from side to side, looking for someone, anyone to throw me an insult and shut down this distasteful subject.
“Charlotte Underwood sneaks into people’s rooms.” I held up my phone like a beacon. Even if people couldn’t see the video, they would know it existed. “Here’s the evidence!”
“Hobson,” she hissed through her teeth.
People around us craned their necks to see the video. Those at nearby tables stood to get a better view, then reported back to their friends on other tables. Within moments, loud chatter filled the room.
“Look at her!” I shouted for the benefit of those who were pretending I didn’t exist.
Charlotte shot out of her seat. “Enough!”
I lowered the camera and folded my arms across my chest. “There’s more where that came from. You make a clumsy cat burglar, but what you lack in stealth, you make up for in enthusiasm.”
“How dare you,” Edward’s cold, resonant voice rang through the room, causing it to go silent. He rose from his seat with the grace of a panther and glared at me with cold, blue eyes just as predatory. “How dare you come here and disturb our peace.”
I squared my shoulders. “Don’t change the subject with faux-outrage. You’re quick to tell me that this is your school, yet when you see thievery and corruption, you have the nerve to ask me how I dare expose it? Does the Duchy of Mercia have any integrity or did that wither over the past few generations?”
“Get out.”
“So that’s how it is. Defend your friends and ignore the evidence of their dirt?” I stuffed my phone in my pocket. “Let me tell you something. If you don’t stop this asinine victimization campaign, I’ll collect every scrap of evidence I have and use it to bring you down.”
His face turned bright red, and he upturned the head table, making its contents crash toward me. “Leave!”
I jumped out of the way, heart thundering. Even Charlotte clapped her hand over her mouth. I looked to my left and right and even at the faces of the other two members of the triumvirate, but no one showed an ounce of concern that he’d nearly thrown a table at me.
A small hand wrapped around my arm. It was Rita’s. “Let’s go.”
Even though my insides trembled, even though my knees wanted to buckle, I pulled my shoulders back and walked around the tables and out of the dining room with as much dignity as I could muster. We walked through the hallways and up the stairs, our footsteps echoing in the ensuing silence. Then Rita opened up the room and sat me on my bed. My body was so numb, I could barely feel myself sink into the mattress.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“Why?”
She lowered herself onto the mattress next to me. “I should have warned you about the cameras. They hate being outmaneuvered. Now, I’m afraid they’ll do something terrible.”
I swallowed hard. There was no way I could follow Rita’s advice to accept any kind of bullying to stop it from worsening. I’d never be able to live with myself. Never feel any self-respect or be able to look myself in the mirror. “Whatever they do will be recorded.”
“Don’t go on the school trip,” she said.
“It’s compulsory, remember?”
Rita grabbed my hand. “But can’t you ask your parents to call you back to the States on a family emergency? You saw how angry Edward got when you challenged his integrity in front of the whole house. He won’t take that lying down. The school trip will be the perfect opportunity to get rid of you.”
I shook my head. “They’re not murderers.” Rita didn’t answer for several moments, and a palpitation rocked my chest. Was she gathering up her courage to tell me about a student they’d made disappear? I squeezed her hand. “What is it?”
“It isn’t anything they’ve done, but last year, Edward wanted me to leave so badly, he threatened to poison my food. He hates anyone who isn’t like him.”
“But that’s just bluffing.”
“The next day, someone he disliked suffered a bout of explosive diarrhea in class. The teacher had to call an ambulance. All throughout the chaos, he gave me a meaningful look that said I’d be next if I didn’t leave.”
“But you’re still here.”
She shrugged. “The schools where I live are terrible, and the bullying is just as bad. At least here, I’ll get four good A levels and a place at Oxbridge.”
I nodded. It made sense that she would keep a low profile for a few years in exchange for a better future, but what was my motivation? An internship with one of Rudolph’s companies? His respect for having endured this shitty school and its shitty bullies? I shook my head. Any sane person would leave. Even if he said he would pay for my university education, I could get loans or a part-time job to fund myself.
A knock sounded on the door, and Rita stiffened.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Henry Bourneville,” said a haughty voice. “May I come in?”
I glanced at Rita, who raised a shoulder as though to say she didn’t mind.
“Come in,” I said.
He hovered at the doorway, his huge silhouette taking up most of the space. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped in and gazed at the bare walls on my side of the room. “Edward’s behavior was deplorable earlier, and he wishes to extend an apology.”
“Why didn’t he come here himself?” I asked.
Henry raised his brows. “Would you have let him in?”
“No.”
The corner of his lips curled. “I expect you would have sent him packing with an iron candlestick holder.”
“If only I had such an instrument of murder.”
He took another step inside, letting the door click behind him. “Those recordings can’t leave the school. They’d damage our reputation, and nobody would want to send their children here.”
“I showed them to the headmaster, our housemaster, and the so-called owner of the school. Everyone’s first instinct was to admonish me for recording a crime.”
He glanced away. I hoped he was thinking about all the recording devices in his family’s department store to catch criminals. These snobs seemed to think the rules of normal society didn’t apply to them. That people were wrong for defending their property or for resorting to desperate measures to stop attacks against their person. I imagined that Henry agreed with my methods, but he needed a way to ask me for the recordings without sounding like a hypocritical asshole.
Eventually, he turned back, fixing me with earnest green eyes that melted my heart. “What if we removed Charlotte’s prefect privileges?”
“That’s a start.” I folded my arms across my chest. “What about the big plan you have to ambush me on the school trip?”
“We can cancel that in exchange for deleting the recordings.”
I stood. “All right.”
He inclined his head. “Will you give me the memory cards?”
“The camera deletes the footage as soon as it’s downloaded on my smartphone.” I stood next to him, opened the app, and selected the recordings for deletion. “There. Done.”
A huge breath heaved out of his lungs. “Thank you, Hobson.”
I glanced up into his eyes. “You called me Hobson.”
He smiled. “That’s your name, or have you already adopted the other one?”
“Hobson is fine.”
He gave me a curt bow, stepped out of the room, and shut the door. Rita and I stared at each other for about a minute, then she wrapped her hand around my wrist and pulled me into the bathroom. She turned on all the taps and the shower. I leaned on the door, brows raised at her caution.
“They’ll break their promise, now,” she said in hushed tones.
“I backed up those videos onto a completely different server.”
Her eyes flashed. “But they don’t know that!”
“He’ll report back that he saw me delete the videos of Charlotte and Mr. Carbuncle in my room, but
they’ll know I have one more.”
She tilted her head to the side. “The one that doesn’t contain the you-know-what?”
I shrugged. “That video’s going to protect me. Charlotte and Blake think I have it.”
Her brows twisted with doubt. “I hope you’re right.”
Her skepticism made me text Mom and ask her to buy me a ticket to New York for the mid-term break. When she didn’t reply, I called Marissa in New York, who said she would have to speak to her boss, who was on vacation. If I’d had enough money on my cards, I would have bought my own ticket, but I’d used several months’ allowances to buy the security cameras.
Although the triumvirate and their hangers-on ignored me the next morning, with each passing day, Rita’s warnings rattled in my skull. Edward and his group didn’t like to be outmaneuvered, and with the cameras in my room and the recording, I’d done just that. Mom continued to ignore my texts, even when I told her it was an emergency. She’d never, ever been this negligent with any of her previous husbands. The last person I wanted to tell about my dire situation was Dad. If I triggered another relapse, I’d never forgive myself.
The school trip started with the ringing of a handbell early in the morning. After dressing, Rita and I sat in the front of a coach with Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, Miss Oakley from English Lit, and our sycophantic Latin instructor, Mr. Frost. I slept through most of the journey, and just after midday, we arrived on the roadside at the middle of a landscape of breathtaking hills and valleys.
We all piled out of the coaches into the cold, windy afternoon and met our instructor, a burly army type called Bingham, and his six young assistants who seemed to know Mr. Frost. He told us we would hike up a hill, set up our tents, then have a barbecue dinner, followed by hot chocolate and a motivational movie. I shared a glance with Rita. We hadn’t had our lunch yet. How long would this hike last?
While one of the assistants drove the teachers up the hill in a four by four, the rest of us shouldered on our backpacks and trudged behind the instructors. The wind blew droplets of rain onto our faces, and I kept my head down and gritted my teeth.
