Page 19 of Revenge

I feigned a gasp. “Is that true?”

He shrugged. “She was always tight-lipped with me about her family.”

Edward huffed a laugh. “It’s a pity she wasn’t tight-lipped in other respects.”

Henry snorted his juice, making his friends chortle. I placed my own glass over my lips to hide my disgust at their double standards. Especially Blake, who had recorded Charlotte giving him a blow job and then made it look like I’d been the one who had broadcasted it on the school trip. It had resulted in me waking up in the middle of nowhere, then confronting Henry and getting myself embroiled in a kidnapping plot and subsequent framing.

Charlotte didn’t turn up for any of her meals on Saturday, and she was missing at breakfast on Sunday. I hoped she was dining on plastic-wrapped sandwiches, just as the bullies had forced Rita to do until I had found an unoccupied table.

Later, I told the boys I wanted to buy tampons from the school’s tuck shop. It was the only way they would leave me alone to walk around the campus. Frost still covered the grounds, but the weather was mild compared to what it would be like in New York.

I strolled over the lawn, admiring the snowdrops and Christmas roses sprouting from the flowerbeds. Mercia Academy would have been a paradise if it hadn’t been for Charlotte and the Triumvirate. Most students only bullied to win the favor of the school’s kings. When I dethroned them, maybe the scourge of cruelty and snobbery would vanish.

A loud blast of heavy metal caused me to turn to the direction of International House. A young woman stepped out through the double doors, dabbing a handkerchief to her face. She wore a hooded jacket, a woolen mini skirt, and ankle boots. My gaze swept up and down her long legs. Either they were bare, or she was the queen of selecting perfectly nude pantyhose.

“Are you alright?” I jogged up to her.

She turned to me with doleful eyes. In a thick, Eastern European accent, she asked, “Do you have international phone card?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, no. Try the tuck shop.”

Her over-plucked brows creased together. “Tuck?”

“Umm… It’s a store that sells snacks and other things. Are you a teacher?” I asked.

“No. I am student of GCSE.”

I examined her features. With her heavy makeup, bouffant hair, and crow’s feet, there was no way she was fifteen or sixteen, the typical ages of GCSE students. She was at least twenty-five. Although Mom had signed me up for the International Baccalaureate in Park Prep, I knew enough about the British educational system to assume that people her age could go to a less prestigious university as a mature student instead of spending two years getting their GCSEs and then another two just to get their A levels.

“I’m Emilia.” I gave her my warmest smile.

“Nadia.”

“I’m going to the tuck shop, now. Should we go together?”

Nadia smiled back, and we strolled across the campus to the small building that held both a cafe and a general store. The assistant found a stack of phone cards, and Nadia paid from a wad of cash she kept in an envelope in her purse. I swallowed. Who carried about that much money these days?

We strolled over the path leading back to our houses, our feet crunching gravel underfoot. A cold shock of wind blew through my thick tights, and I glanced at Nadia to see how she was faring with her bare legs. Her face didn’t even change expression.

“Aren’t you freezing?” I asked.

“England is not so cold compared to the Sakha Republic.”

“Where’s that?”

Her face fell. “The north-east of Russia.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you homesick?”

Edward approached from the other side of the path, bundled up in a scarf and hat. Even though I couldn’t see most of his expression, it was hard to miss his wintry glare. He caught up with us outside International House, where two sets of stereos competed for attention.

“Emilia.” His gaze flickered up and down Nadia’s form. “You’re wanted back in Elder House.”

Nadia dipped her head. “Thank you for helping. I feel better now.”

I gave her a friendly smile. “You’re welcome.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Edward whirled on me. “Don’t mix with the students of International House.”