Page 19 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Yeah, God, I know.”

“You can’t say that.”

“You know what?” I hop off the cot, so close to him I could knee him in the groin if I wanted. And dear Lord, how I want to.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I poke his chest.

“If you don’t obey the rules,Iget punished,” Jasper says, tilting his head. “Think I like getting lashes?No onelikes getting lashes.” He spins around, yanks open his closet, and tears a set of clothes from one of his hangers.

I don’t have time—or space—to move out of the way. He shoves the bundle of fabric against my chest so hard I stumble back and end up sitting on my bed.

It creaks.

I scowl up at Jasper.

He glares back.

“Put that on and haul butt to the chapel outside.” He points at me. “And don’t you dare try to sit next to me.”

With that, he’s gone.

I throw on Jasper’s clothes and hurry into the hall but he’s nowhere in sight. This hallway only has two exits, both with staircases. I pick the east side, and sprint down the hall before thumping down the stairs two at a time.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot Jasper turning the corner.

Jogging after him, I try to neaten my clothes on the way.

His shirt is too tight around my breasts, but not if I keep the top three buttons open and use his tie to cover my cleavage. His pants are tight around my ass. I’m hoping I can sit down without splitting them.

The outfit looks ridiculous with my ballerina pumps—there’d been no time to change those—but at least I only have to turn up the hems once so I don’t step on them.

My hair is a train wreck. It’s super curly on a good day, and I must have been rolling around in my sleep last night because now it’s a tangled mess. Even trying to get the elastic band out of it brings tears to my eyes, so I decide to leave it in.

At least I’m wearing a uniform. Now Jasper can stop fantasizing about being whipped because I’m in jeans.

I arrive at the downstairs hallway alone with no roommate in sight.

The dining room doors are standing open.

It’s empty.

Where the hell is everyone?

We all say prayers before

Shit.

In my hurry to chase down Jasper, I’d forgotten about prayers.

I’m in the wrong building.

My boobs jostle each other as I turn and sprint for one of the side doors leading out of the dormitory. I followed a group of students from the lunchroom yesterday—that’s how I found my way to class. If it hadn’t been for them, Jasper wouldn’t be able to sit down for the lashes he’d have gotten.

What a prick.

I head for the chapel. The crucifix poking out from atop its little tower makes it easy enough to spot.

Far ahead, a handful of students hurry toward the chapel. I’m almost there when movement catches my eye. I glance over my shoulder, and stub my toe the same instant I catch sight of someone breaking away from the shadow of a nearby maple tree.

---