Page 31 of Outcast

“It’s illegal to record people without their consent. Depending on your age, she might be able to press charges against you.”

My stomach plummeted. I’d just confessed to committing a crime to a police officer. “Even though she was part of the group that left me out here?”

“Can you identify any of the people behind the prank?”

I clenched my jaw. Leaving someone tied, bound, and at the mercy of fate should be classified as assault at the very least. “No. I was asleep when it happened.”

He raised a shoulder. “There you go. Unless she’s willing to own up, there’s little you can do.”

I stopped talking after that. It seemed that the justice system was stacked against victims of bullying and favored those who pushed the boundaries of morality and decency to dressed up their acts as jokes. I stared out of the window at the green wilderness. Someone with a car must have helped them. There was no way even Henry could carry a person this far.

About an hour later, the policeman dropped me off at the campsite. Miss Oakley sat alone on a camp chair with two phones on her lap. The old woman raised her head and stood, letting them both fall to the ground. The policeman explained where he had found me and went back into his car without asking for a witness statement or even the names of the suspects.

Miss Oakley tilted her head to the side. “I’m afraid it’s natural for people to become hostile to your sort.”

My mouth fell open, but no words came out. What the hell did that mean?

She patted me on the back. “Not to worry. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

My nostrils flared. “Tea? Don’t you want to know who did this to me?”

She pursed her lips. “The sooner you clean it off, the sooner you’ll forget about it!”

I shook my head and walked to our tent. When a sane teacher arrived, I would tell them what had happened. Miss Oakley had clearly lost her last marble. I unzipped the opening of our tent to find the entire left side empty. They’d taken all my stuff, too. Typical.

Nothing of Rita’s would fit me, so I walked to the shower block and stared at the mirror. The words, WHORE, TROLLOP, and YANK were scrawled on my face with permanent blue marker. My shoulders drooped with defeat. Now I understood why Miss Oakley had taken my complaint lightly. She’d thought I’d left because of the writing on my face. The bastards had taken my things and made it look like I’d run away. No wonder she had been unimpressed.

I rubbed at the insults with my fingers but couldn’t even get the ink to fade. Instead, I combed through my hair, dislodging grass, twigs, and the occasional sheep pellet. Did Rudolph know how bad these boarding schools could get? I doubted he would let me suffer this much torment if it meant risking my life.

Miss Oakley entered with a steaming cup of tea, a towel, and some shower gel. “I found you some spares, but we’ll have to invoice your parents for the supplies you left behind on your travels.”

“T-thanks.” My voice cracked. By now, I’d learned to pick my battles and wouldn’t dispute the invoice. At least I could have a shower.

After undressing, I stepped into the only working cubicle and let the warm water wash away my aches, sweat, and all the other things I’d accumulated in the past twelve hours. Dipping my head, I let out a long breath and stared at the water swirling at my feet.

It was red.

A sob escaped my throat. The bastards had put red dye into the shower head, and I’d been too incautious to let the water run beforehand. I’d already cried myself dry on the long walk through the countryside, and only an empty well of despair filled my chest. Their cruelty was relentless, and it wouldn’t stop until I’d left Mercia Academy. Forget Rudolph, forget the internship, his college money, and the promised job in journalism. I was going home, but not before I’d avenged myself with something vindictive.

I shut off the water and dried my artificially reddened skin, praying that they hadn’t stolen my clothes while I’d showered. They hadn’t. After dressing, and after choking down a shitty meal of tomato soup and miniature frankfurters, one of the instructors started up a barbecue, and the rest of the house returned through the woods, hooting at me as if my red skin and hair was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.

My hands tightened into fists. Right now, I wished I was Carrie, so I could drop some trees on their heads.

Blake broke through the crowd of idiots, his handsome face split into the biggest, shit-eating grin. “What happened to you?”

The mirth in his eyes made me want to spit. How could I have ever found him attractive? Right now, I wanted to slam my metal bowl into his face and enjoy seeing him grin through broken teeth and a bent nose.

Edward appeared at his side. “This won’t end until you leave Mercia Academy. If you think last night was bad, things are about to get worse.”

Behind them, Henry looked to the side, not able to meet my eyes. He’d been the one to negotiate the truce, but I’d been stupid enough to believe he was representing Edward. Who knew? He might have made up the apology and gone over to my room to say anything he needed to get those photos deleted.

The triumvirate strolled away to cheers and whistles, leaving me sitting alone like a discarded rag doll that had been washed in the hot cycle with a red sock. Every ounce of fight had left my body, and I was ready to give up. I looked around for my only friend, but she wasn’t standing among the crowd. Maybe they’d done something to her, too.

Mr. Jenkins pulled up a chair.

“Miss Hobson, may I ask why you saw fit to leave us last night?”

When I explained what had happened, he shook his head, sighed, and patted me on the wrist.