Page 146 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“I only wish it was in better circumstances.”

I say nothing. What would be the point? The sooner he spits it out, the sooner I’ll know what the hell’s going on.

“I think this is a new record,” he says. “Suspended in your first week? I would applaud you, if your blatant disrespect for this institution wasn’t so offensive.”

The words ping off my mind like a ricocheting bullet. SUSPENDED. DISRESPECT. OFFENSIVE.

“Sir, I?—”

“I’ll tell you when you can speak, Winters,” Dean Rigby says calmly, giving his tie another stroke. “If I even allow it.”

I open my mouth, but the tiny crease that forms between the dean’s graying brows makes me reconsider. So I sit, and I shut the fuck up, and I desperately try to figure out what’s happening.

“I’ve always been of the mind that you only really appreciate something if you work for it.” He waves his hand. “The harder you work, the more you appreciate it. I’ve seen it before. Children like you.” His lips twitch like he’s struggling not to sneer. “You get a free pass and you think you can coast through the next four years without having to lift a finger. That life will just throw more opportunities your way.”

“Sir, that’s not?—”

Dean Rigby’s fist slams down on his desk so hard it rattles the pens and pencils in their holder. My mouth snaps closed, and I hang my head, but I’mfuminginside.

“You’ve been handed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Miss Winters. You could have had a fulfilling life, a brilliant career, but instead you come into my school and you act like aruffian.”

This guy needs to get laid. That, or he needs to find a better brand of coffee to have in the mornings, because it’s obvious there’s some unresolved shit he’s taking out on me.

But I can’t say anything, can I? As per usual, I have to sit here andtake it.

Walk it off, Nim.

Fuck that.

“I’m sorry, did you say I’m suspended?” I blurt out as quickly as I can before Dean Rigby fists his desk again.

The dean’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been written up three times this week. This flagrant disregard for our Code of Conduct is a personal insult to me.”

“What was I written up for?” I ask him, trying for innocent and probably getting closer to sarcasm if the tightening of his fist is anything to go by.

“You refuse to adhere to the Code—” he starts.

“Reason why I’m asking,” I cut in bravely, despite how my insides are quivering with terror, “is because I’ve been bullied from the day I set foot inside this place, and I was just wonderingif something like that can also get a person suspended.” I pluck at my dress. “Surely that’s the case, seeing as you’re kicking me out for my uniform being wrong?”

In the silence that follows, I could have heard one of the dean’s immaculate hairs hitting the carpet.

“Bullying is a serious allegation,” he says quietly.

“Of course. That’s why I’m bringing it to you.” I sit back in my seat and fold my hands over my belly. “I hope that you’ll punish the offenders as severely, if not more so, than you’re punishing me for not wearing stockings.”

Dean Rigby stands and goes to his window. The slatted blinds are drawn, but he pulls on a rope, opening them just a crack. Dust motes dance in a frenzy as he moves back to his desk.

Maybe if they vacuumed here once in a while, he wouldn’t be in such a testy mood.

“You will need to complete a?—”

I sit forward, grabbing the edge of his desk. “Will you expel them?”

“Miss Winters, I don’t even know the extent—” Dean Rigby begins, blinking at me.

“It would turn your hair grayer,” I cut in. “But you can ask anyone and they’ll confirm it.” I hold up my hand, three fingers extended. “Silas, Mason, and Knox.” I tilt my head. “You might know that last one as the Student Body President.”

Rigby’s eyes turn to slits. “The student who wrote you up,” he says evenly. “You’re claiming he bullied you?”

---