Page 294 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Just tell me what you need from me,” I say, forcing my voice out steady and strong.

“This will delay the claim payout, unfortunately.”

“I don’t care. I want to know who did this. I’m sure you do too.”

Mr. Fallow’s voice drops a little, but it doesn’t soften a hair. “Of course, Ms. Virgo. I will be in touch. And again, condolences for your loss.”

“Thanks.”

I put the phone down, let out a long breath, and turn to Marigold.

The hand holding her golden cigarette holder is trembling. “Tell me,” she rasps.

“They’re reopening the case.” For some reason, telling Marigold is putting tears in my fucking eyes. I blink hard and fast, and try to sound glib. “One of Mom’s necklaces is gone, so they think this was a theft, not just…”

Marigold starts nodding, her mouth pursing tight. Then her face crumples up and she lets out a loud sob.

I don’t even know I’m moving, but then I’m in her arms, and we’re gripping each other so tight I can barely breathe. She’s all skin and trembling bones—so frail I can’t believe she’s still standing.

I don’t doubt for a second that I’m doing the right thing. We both need closure, and this is the only way.

After all, the investigator didn’t exactly saywhatwas missing. Who says I even know what my mother had in that safe? I’m a fucking kid.

I smile into Marigold’s shoulder as I sniff and drag a hand over my nose.

Finally something in this fucked-up world is going my way.

My footsteps echo as I enter Lavish Prep’s gymnasium. According to my timetable, this is where we have assembly on Fridays. It must be Friday already, or there’s a special assembly, because the benches are packed.

But something’s not right. The principal’s podium is missing and it’s too quiet.

With no teachers in sight, the kids should have been chatting and laughing and fidgeting, filling the gymnasium with a hushed cacophony that would only end once the principal called the assembly to order.

But no teachers.

No noise.

Just thousands of blank, expectant faces.

I’m nervous enough to be sweating, but at the same time I’m detached from my body. Like I’m floating, tethered to myself by a very short string as I lumber over the empty floor.

Everyone’s looking at me, and it’s no wonder. The only thing making any noise right now are my shoes.

Clomp. Squeak. Clomp. Squeak. Clomp.

Someone’s behind me. I can feel their presence. But I can’t turn; I’m too scared it’s Briar.

As if the crowd read my mind, they begin to chant.

Briar.

Briar.

Briar.

Shoes thump on wood. Hands clap.

Briar!

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