Page 156 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“No, Quinton. What’s hard is being forced to stay in this shit hole because my parents died and left me in so much debt, I’ll be paying it off for the next ten years.”

Nim sighs noisily. “I have to go.”

Hmm. Sounds like she was really counting on that money. I’ll have to find out who this Quinton person is, and why her insurance?—

What the fuck? I don’tcare.So what if Winters is broke? All the more reason for her to fuck off out of here. Except...if what I heard is true, she literally can’t afford to stay anywhere else. At least here, room and board are covered.

Maybe Ishouldfind out what’s going on with her financial situation. If she wants to leave, but can’t afford to...it’s an easy enough fix.

I peek out behind the shelf again, trying to see which direction she’s headed so I can carry on tailing her. But instead of getting up, she throws her phone onto the carpet, covers her face with her hands, and bursts into tears.

I watch, morbidly fascinated. I’ve never seen her choke up, not even once. She shed a tear back in Silverash Forest, but we’d literally just hacked up a guy in front of her.

This?

This feels like the kind of fallout that comes from months of repression.

I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to go over to her and?—

Jesus, and what? Hug her? Smooth back her hair and tell her everything’s going to be alright? I grimace, straightening so I can lean my head back against the side of the stack.

I don’t want Nim Winters to feel better. I want her to feel so bad that she’s forced to leave, if only for the sake of her own sanity. So let her bawl for her dead parents, and her fucked uplife. It’s what happens when nosy little bitches don’t do what they’re told.

And this stalking shit? I’m done with it. I have better things to do than follow around wrecks like Nim Winters.

Chapter 27

Nim

”Nim, dear. One moment please,” Ms. Carling calls out as I try to slip past her desk without being noticed.

Damn it.

“Yeah?” I’m starting to understand why other girls carry around makeup compacts and shit. I have no idea what state my face is in. It felt like I was back there for an hour, crying myself a goddamn pity river.

But you know what? I feel better now. A bit fuzzy around the edges, sure, but thatnumbfeeling I’ve been carrying with me for so long feels like it’s finally going away.

I haven’t felt thisfuriousin a long time.

It’s fantastic.

I guess Ms. Carling’s vision is really bad, because she squints at me over the top of her glasses but doesn’t remark on my appearance. Instead, she slides a note over the desk. “Here.”

“What’s this?” I look at the names on the paper and my heart comes to a stop. “What is this?” My voice shakes, and Ms. Carling frowns at me.

“Tutors, dear.”

I almost scrunch up the paper and toss it back at her.Almost.But when I look at her, it doesn’t seem like she’s in on this motherfucking cosmic joke the universe is playing at my expense. She just looks...concerned.

Pushing back my shoulders, I give her a wide—if slightly tremulous—smile. “Thank you. Thank yousomuch.”

“There’s another student, but he’s a bit busy. He said he could help out about one hour a week. He’s a senior here, Knox?—”

“Oh, I know him,” I cut in, sounding way too fucking jolly. I hold up the paper, folding it methodically before putting it in my blazer pocket. “Thank you, Ms. Carling. For this.” I pat my pocket. “For everything. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure, dear,” Carling says, but with a touch of uneasiness like she’s not quite understanding the difference between my voice and what’s going on with my face.

I’m not surprised. I don’t know whether I want to laugh or start crying again.

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