Page 60 of Deposed

More students entered the dining room. Whenever their gazes turned to our table, they would catch sight of my face and do a double-take. I didn’t care what they thought, since most of them would attack me if prompted to do so by someone they deemed more popular.

At last, Charlotte sashayed into the dining room with the gait of a runway model. Over the weekend, she had darkened her hair to a shade of pale auburn that matched mine. When she took her place at the head table, she curled her lip then pulled out her smartphone and took a picture of my swollen face.

I stilled.

Every ounce of awareness focussed on Charlotte’s smug expression. The students’ chatter, the clink of forks on plates, Henry’s angry, huffing breaths… everything faded into the background, replaced with the roar of blood between my ears. This was the bitch who had arranged that gauntlet, and now she had arranged for her brother and Mr. Carbuncle to abduct me. If Blake hadn’t arrived when he did, Mr. Carbuncle would have done much worse. And she had the nerve to smirk.

Someone placed a hand on my arm, and I shrugged it off. In the space of three seconds, I sprung to my feet, crossed the dining room, grabbed the edge of her table, and shoved it hard into her gut.

With a shriek, Charlotte tumbled backward in her chair, but it wasn’t enough. As though I’d absorbed Blake’s athletic prowess, I vaulted over the upturned table, straddled her chest and grabbed her by the hair.

The noise of the dining room returned in full force. Charlotte screeched and clawed at my hands, but it remained around her fake, auburn hair like a vice.

“You fucking bitch!” I smashed her head against the stone platform. “You sent your brother and Carbuncle to abduct me. Admit it!”

“She’s mad,” Charlotte screeched. “Coates, Bierson, help!”

The two rugby players moved toward me.

“Touch her, and I’ll break what’s left of your nose,” growled Henry from the other side of the table.

“Whoever records this and uploads a video to the Mercia-Net will suffer,” snapped Blake.

I punched Charlotte on the side of her face, but with my limited range of movement from the bruises, I couldn’t make enough of an impact.

“Emilia!” said Edward from behind.

“What?” I smashed her head against the platform one more time.

“Attacking Charlotte isn’t the answer.” He jumped onto the podium and rounded the table. “Even if the evidence points to her being responsible for your abduction, the police won’t take an assault lightly.”

I clenched my teeth and tightened my grip on her hair.

“I’ll press charges,” Charlotte yelled. “Then they’ll lock you up forever, you crazy bitch!”

“You will do nothing of the sort, unless you want even more information about you leaked to the press,” snapped Edward. He held out his hand and in a softer voice, said, “Emilia, let go of Charlotte’s hair. We can settle things with her later.”

I glanced around into the silence of the dining room. Someone had cleared the upturned tables, and now everyone, staff and students included, stared at me as if I’d turned savage. My fingers uncurled from her brittle hair, and I took Edward’s hand. He raised me off a winded-looking Charlotte, tucked me under his shoulder, and wrapped a comforting arm across my back.

Coates stepped toward Charlotte, who stretched out her hand for him to pick her up. Instead, he frowned at me. “You were the girl Underwood’s brother got into trouble for kidnapping?”

Her hand dropped to her side, and she didn’t answer.

“She left a party invitation near my room with an address in London. When I got there, the number didn’t exist. Underwood’s brother punched me unconscious and dragged me into an empty apartment. Mr. Carbuncle did the rest.”

Coates gaped at Charlotte.

She picked herself off the floor. The buttons of her shirt had burst open, revealing a shocking pink bra. “I-it’s a lie.”

“How did your brother know where to find Emilia?” asked Blake.

“I already told the police I didn’t know!” Charlotte spread her arms wide. “The papers didn’t mention Hobson’s name. M-maybe my brother got arrested for taking another girl, and Hobson slammed her face in the door to frame me for being involved.”

“Those bruises are days old,” said someone from within the dining room.

“She could have made them the day the news broke out and hidden all this time.”

“No.” Rita stood from where she sat with the scholarship students. “Emilia has been missing from our room since Saturday morning.”