Page 36 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

The coffee must give me a spark of courage, because by the time he’s done unpacking the food trolley, I march across the hall and come up behind him.

I open my mouth, but he beats me to it.

“Nice dress,” he drawls. “Really brings out your eyes.”

I freeze to the spot. Nicedress? This fabric is so stiff I could prop it up in my closet—no need for a hanger.

“Why do you keep filming me?”

“Filming you?” He turns, watching me for a second from the corner of his eye. I take back what I said before—heishandsome, perhaps because of his sharp nose and blade-like cheekbones. Itmakes him look like a fox, especially when he narrows his honey-brown eyes. “Now why’d I do that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

“D’you really think you’re that pretty?” He sets down the tray he was holding and turns to face me. When he steps forward, I step back on automatic. “Or are you just that vain?”

Now I’m regretting walking over here. I thought I’d have the upper hand, but?—

Without warning, the guy tucks a stray curl behind my ear. When his fingertips brush my cheek, they leave behind a static charge that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Stop filming me or I’ll report you.”

The guy narrows his eyes again. “Who you gonna tell?”

My mind scrambles to the scariest person in this place. “Sister Miriam,” I say, jutting my chin into the air. “She won’t stand for it.”

“What if she’s the one who told me to film you in the first place?” He reaches for me again, and this time I take two steps back.

By now, boys are starting to file into the dining hall. Thankfully, one of them is Perry. The blond guy glances toward the doorway and then back at me. “I got work to do, pretty thing,” he drawls through a wicked smile. “I’ll catch hell if you distract me much longer.”

He hurriedly offloads the rest of the trays and pushes the trolley away without looking back. I start after him, but then stop. I don’t have the guts to demand his name. I mean, I barely stood my ground.

I grab a tray and hover around the table until Perry comes up to get one too. He spotted me from the doorway already. When he gets close, he moves around like a skittish deer, as if he’s convinced I’m going to go for his throat.

“Morning!”

He flinches. “Hey.”

“Sleep well?”

“What do you want?” he asks, frowning at me as he grabs a tray and steps back. Did I look like that when I was dodging the blond-haired guy? Like a nervous rabbit facing off with a wolf?

I’m such a wuss.

Here I am, minutes after the provost tells me how remarkable I am, and I can barely hold a conversation?

Screw that.

I’ve been in the passenger seat for way too long while some anonymous driver takes me from point A to point B. Time to take the wheel.

“I wanted to thank you,” I tell him.

He glances back warily when I trail him to his seat. I sit beside him before he has a chance to object, and a moment later another kid boxes him in on the other side.

“What for?”

“I really think I can help Jasper.” I lay my hand on top of Perry’s. “I want to help him. And if I can, and he passes, then he’s got you to thank for it.”

Perry stares at me for a second as if I’ve totally caught him off guard.

---