Page 131 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I force myself not to crap him out for talking with his mouth full, or for having his knife and fork in the wrong hands, or for putting his fucking elbows on the table...but if drilling table manners into him at every opportunity in the past few years hasn’t already worked, I doubt it ever will. That’s why kids have to be taught table etiquette from a young age. As soon as their diapers hit a fucking highchair, in fact.

“Where is she?” I scan the cafeteria again in case I somehow managed to miss Nim the first seventeen times I looked. Dinner began ten minutes ago. Some students are almost done already. Mason included—he practically inhaled his broth and didn’t pause before moving onto his main course. His appetite is astounding.

I cut a sliver of meat and slip it in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. The cuisine at Cinderhart Academyisn’t world-class but, despite my complaints, it’s a sore sight better than what I eat when I’m at home. My mother’s food wasn’t exactly the tastiest, although there was always a metric shit ton of it—perfect when you’re an energetic teenage boy.

I should call her, find out if she’s okay. It’s been a rough two months for her. I never realized she was such good friends with Nim’s parents. Their death hit her hard. She was inconsolable for days after the funeral which she claims Nim didn’t even attend. Goes to show how much little Nim loved her own parents, that ungrateful bitch. I reach for my glass of Diet Pepsi and pause when two figures appear at the cafeteria entrance. I instantly recognize Nim’s honey-brown hair.

Why the sight of her wide hazel eyes makes me forget to swallow, I can’t fathom.Maybe it’s her school uniform that’s throwing me off. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in it. I’ve been too busy to keep track of her. We all have. Secretly, I think we were hoping she’d run home in tears after the way we treated her yesterday.

“Well slap my—” Mason begins, but I cut him off with a brisk,”Not today, Sally.”

“But she’s so fuckingadorable,” Mason says through a laugh, putting his fork down for the first time since we sat down at our bench. “What with that little bow? Oh my fuck, and those littlestockings?—”

“Would youshut it?” I cut in.Students one bench over turn to look.

There’s always room at our table—only a handful of students dare sit near us. Even Mason’s fans keep their distance when he’s with Silas and me. If it wasn’t for us, he’d be swatting away girls—and some guys—with a squash racket.

We’re sitting side-by-side, Silas in front of us. He has a habit of zoning out when he’s eating. The Four Horsemen could have galloped out of an apocalyptic sky and his response would beto shove another mouthful of creamed corn in his mouth. Silas happens to look up and stops chewing when he sees our faces.

“Wha’?” He turns to look over his shoulder. “Ah, ’uck me.”

We watch them at the buffet line as they dish up food. I’m on my feet the moment Nim and Romi take a seat. Nim has a fork of mashed potatoes halfway to her mouth when I stop beside their bench. When she looks up and sees me standing over her, her fork clatters onto her plate.

Romi sits forward on her seat, hands twisting nervously in her lap. “I got her up to code.”

I don’t bother looking at her. I wouldn’t have acknowledged her existence if it wasn’t for Nim.

“Stand,” I tell Nim, pointing to the space in front of me.

“What?” Her hazel eyes go even bigger.

“Now, Winters.”

Nim looks to Romi for help, but Furino knows better than to get involved. Her roommate bows her head and starts picking listlessly at her garden salad. Slowly, reluctantly, Nim slides out of her seat and comes to stand in front of me.

I take her in with a quick, condescending sweep of my eyes.

“That’s not how you tie this.” I grab the end of her silver bow and yank it loose. “Do you even know what a pussycat bowis?”

“That’s my fault. I should have shown her,” Romi says. When I look at her, she wilts in her seat like a blow-torched dandelion. Nim doesn’t shrivel like Romi. In fact, she lifts her chin and pushes back her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight.

I tilt my head, fascinated by her defiance, but before I can get another word out, Silas steps up beside me.

“Your hair is a mess,” he tells her.”Do you own a brush?”

She pats self-consciously at her messy bun. “Yes, of course?—”

“Then have Furino show you how to use it.” He grabs her hair tie and yanks it from her hair. She gasps when it gets caught, grabbing her scalp and gaping incredulously at Silas.

It serves her right. If she’d bothered brushing her hair, it wouldn’t have gotten stuck.

“Are those stockingsladdered?” Mason grumbles to my other side. “Un-fucking-acceptable, Winters.”

A few of the students sitting nearby are starting to pay attention. Fuck, who am I kidding? The entire cafeteria watched me walk over here. Everyone within earshot is listening, and those who aren’t are wishing they had Wolverine’s hearing so theycouldbe listening.

It’s not uncommon for me to single out students. I share Cinderhart Academy’s sense of school pride—and I’m a brutal enforcer on my best day. But Mason and Silas don’t normally jump on board like this.

“Hands,” I say.

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