Page 42 of Wicked Elites

And that’s just for the third years!

Gulping, I re-read that passage. It was no wonder that Mrs. Benazir had given into all our demands. She needed people like me to prop up the grades so the academy could stay at the top of the Elite Register. With Corrine gone, she urgently needed a replacement. Corrine worked all of this out at the age of thirteen?

I let out a long whistle. None of this had occurred to me weeks ago. All I had cared about at the time was getting an income to cover the costs of the house. Maybe that’s what Sebastian and Prakash were hinting at. I shook those thoughts out of my head and continued to another paragraph.

Someone winked at me today. He might be the most beautiful boy in the world, and I think I might be in love.

Chapter 10

Weeks passed, and I spent most evenings after dinner alone in my room, scanning Corrine’s diary for keywords. Ashley hadn’t returned since the incident with the portrait, but I would catch glimpses of her in the hallways with Bruce and the auburn-haired twins.

Sebastian stopped glowering at me, but Leopold continued his pranks by proxy. Yesterday, I found a note on the back of my blazer that said, COCK BREAKER.

Late one Monday morning, Miss Claymore marched Bruce, Ashley and the twins to breakfast. The older woman turned to my table and raised her brows.

Michelle leaned over to my side of the breakfast table. “Why’s Claymore giving us the death stare?”

“She’s looking at me,” I muttered. “I’m supposed to be tutoring my sister.”

“How’s that going?”

“I haven’t seen her.”

Cormac shook his head. “It’s all very well for Bruce Wilmington and the others to slack off. Members of the football team only need to maintain an eighty-five percent average to retain their places at the academy.”

“Are they scholars like us?”

“No, but excellence in sports counts toward the Elite Register, and many of the boys go on to play for major teams.” Cormac tapped the side of his nose. “Then they return with their millions and make hefty donations to the academy that honed their skills.”

I narrowed my eyes and turned my gaze to the empty seat next to Miss Claymore. Corrine had said something similar in her diary. Mrs. Benazir ran Brittas Academy like a business.

Ashley flounced back to her seat with a bowl of cereal.

Since Miss Claymore continued directing her meaningful stare at me, I pulled myself to my feet and said, “I’d better catch my sister while she’s here.”

* * *

Later that day, Ashley paced up and down our room, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. “Do you know what the girls call me? Charity cunt.”

“Why would they say—”

“My grades. I have an average of fifty-five!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis.

A shudder ran down my spine. Miss Claymore had told me her average was sixty percent. “I can tutor you. You could reach eighty in less than a few weeks.”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat. “The tuition here is sub-standard. I go to lectures and barely understand the teacher.”

“If you did your prep or even attended half your classes, you’d keep up.” I ran a hand through my hair. “There isn’t much difference between us, you know.”

With a scoff, Ashley swept her hands down her slender body. “Look at me and look at you. We’re opposites.”

Irritation crawled over my skin. One more jibe about my appearance and I’d lay into Ashley about her lack of tact. “Our grades were the same at St. Benedict’s. Then we left London, and things changed. What happened?”

“That was different.” She flounced across the room and sat on her bed.

“Why?” I asked. “Dad said his job at the university was an opportunity of a lifetime, but I’m wondering if we moved for another reason.”

She tossed her head. “You’ve always been the one everyone fussed over.”