Page 389 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Panicking, immediately thinking it’s Jude, I twist to face the door. When I see Rosie standing there, I groan and collapse back down again.

“What do you want?” I mumble.

Rosie scans the room as if she wants to make sure we’re alone before creeping in. I watch her coming closer and push onto my elbows when she stops a yard away from my bed.

“Wanna swim,” she says.

I roll my eyes at her and flop back onto the bed. Mr. Dearth handed down the law when Mom and I got here a few weeks ago. One of them was to never let Rosie go swimming alone. I didn’t make much of that rule at the time—but this kid wouldlivein the water if she could. Doesn’t matter how bad the weather is—every afternoon she insists on splashing around in the pool. I’m sure a ten-year-old can swim by herself, but with her disability, she needs someone keeping an eye on her.

“Go ask your brother.”

“He says he’s busy.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.”

“Puh-lease, Harper.”

“God,” I groan, flopping onto my back with ill grace. “Can I just sleep for like one hour?”

“Puh-lease, Har?—”

“Yeah, fu—all right!” I’m up a second later. Jude usually sits with her by the pool, but on the odd occasion that I’ve had to play lifeguard, I haven’t really minded. But it’s hard to be nice to people when I feel like a zombie with a migraine.

I scan the little girl with narrowed eyes. “You’re not even wearing your swim stuff.” I point at the door. “Mush!”

She giggles, her pigtails flapping as she hurries from my room.

I rip free my bun and loosen out my hair as I kick off my shoes and head into my walk-in closet to change into something comfier than my school clothes. I rest my head against the wood paneling as I stare moodily at row upon row of clothes.

I’ve just slipped a hoody over my head when I hear the unmistakable splash of a little girl jumping onto the first step ofa pool. The manor’s enormous kidney-shaped pool isn’t exactly kiddy-safe. There are two steps at one side, but there’s not much of a shallow end.

“You’reshittingme!” I race to my window, When I peer down onto the patio, I see Rosie standing on the first step—no water wings!—attempting to put on her goggles.

“Rosie!” I yell, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. “Shit, shit,shit!”

I race downstairs, my bare feet thumping on the steps. I slam open the French doors and race out onto the patio just as Rosie belly flops into the water.

“Hey!” I yell out. “You’re supposed to wait for me!”

Rosie starts splashing in the water like she’s fighting it. It’s a losing battle—she’s starting to sink. My body goes lame as panic shoots through me in an icy wave. I’m dimly aware that I’m pulling my hoody off over my head, that I’m stepping toward the pool, but everything’s moving sodamnslowly.

And Rosie just keeps sinking.

Something knocks into me from behind. I flail, barely managing to keep from falling face-first into the pool. Jude hits the water with barely a splash. A second later, he reappears beside Rosie.

It happens so fast that I’m still reeling when he drags his sister out of the pool with his hands under her arms. She splats onto her bottom on the wet paving, coughing and choking, and promptly bursts into tears.

When Jude looks up at me, there’s murderous rage in his eyes. “Thefuck?” he bellows. Rosie starts howling, but the moment he wraps her in his arms, she quietens down to a bawl.

“I didn’t say she could go in! She just did it anyway.”

Jude stabs a finger at the choppy water as he glares at me over the top of Rosie’s head. “She could have drowned!”

My heart starts beating double time at the fury on his face. “I didn’t?—”

“Exactly.” He smooths back his hair with a swipe of his damp hand. “You didn’t doanything. Ever think that might have been an option? Or were you happy to watch her drown?”

My mouth falls open. “I would never?—”

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