Page 47 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Not worth it.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Do you have a fever?”

“Yes.”

Shoes clomp over the tiles. An icy hand clamps over my forehead. This time I do flinch, and I even manage to scramble up and move away from that hand.

Sister Miriam studies me for a moment. “You’ve been crying.”

No fucking duh. Did my swollen eyes give it away?

“Come. Get up.”

I shake my head. “Please, I’ll go to class. I just…I just need to sleep for a little longer.”

“Youwillget upnow. Youwillwash. Youwilleat breakfast with the others.”

I wish I could spontaneously burst into tears right now. I’m not sure if it would help, but I’ve got to believe even someone as cold-hearted as Sister Miriam might be moved by the sight of tears.

Fuck, who am I kidding? Anyone who works in a place like this has got to be immune to shit like that by now.

I’m sure that’s the only way people stay sane around here.

I obviously took too long to answer her. Her mouth twisting into a sour grimace, Miriam darts forward, catches hold of the shoulder of my dress, and drags me out of bed.

“That wasn’t a request, Miss Malone.”

MissMalone.

She hauls open my closet and takes down one of the hangers. The next moment, I’m clutching a brown dress to my chest.

It’s not as thick as the one I’m wearing. This is normal fabric. Still stiff, but in a way that suggests it hasn’t been through the wash enough times to be soft.

A new dress, made just for me.

It should make me happy, even superficially, but instead all I can think about is how ashamed I was last night. Sitting there in a heap on Gabriel’s floor.

Did Reuben tell anyone?

Does someone like him even have friends to gossip with?

Miriam draws back the sleeve of her habit to check a dainty wristwatch. On her, it looks like the string on a roll of salami.

“You have half an hour. Plenty of time to wash up and get down to breakfast.” Her eyes narrow. “I’ll know if you don’t show. I’ll know if you don’t eat. Don’t test me, Miss Malone. You’ll regret it.”

I scowl after her as she leaves. I believe her—after all, she knew I was playing sick.

Jasper.

He must have said something to her.

I’m going tokillhim.

Fuck his grades. I don’t care if he fails. In fact, I hope he has to repeat the entire year. Maybe then he’ll think twice about snitching on someone.

I head for the showers, but I don’t make it all the way. A few yards from the door, I can already hear the commotion inside. I don’t know how many boys are in there, but even one wouldhave been too many. Is night the only time I stand a chance to shower alone?

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