Page 76 of Twisted Elites

“Whatever she says, they’ll eventually discount it as lies,” said Leopold.

My insides churned with trepidation. Sometimes, the truth never came out or at least took its time. If the justice system worked as it should, Prakash would be sitting with us at the royal table and not awaiting trial in an institution for young criminals.

A hush fell across the dining room, filled by the occasional whisper. My pulse jumped in my throat like a pair of twin frogs, each desperate to escape for freedom.

The quartet of officers advanced toward us through the maze of occupied tables. A sea of students in bottle-green uniforms twisted in their seats to get a better look.

Miss Claymore swept down from the high table and stood in the police officers’ path. “May I help you?” she asked in a haughty voice. “Law enforcers are to make their appointments with the headmistress.”

I recognized one of the officers. That thick-headed asshole who had interviewed me after Bianca’s fall from the east wing.

He turned to me, brows rising in recognition, and my legs nearly collapsed under the weight of his stare. Next to him was WPC Dobson, the policewoman who had been there for my forensic exam. Her kind smile did nothing to reassure me that I would survive the ordeal of prison with my mind intact.

Officer Asshole brushed Miss Claymore aside and continued toward the royal table. Beside me, Sebastian breathed hard. If fear hadn’t frozen my limbs, I would have reached out to give him comfort, but it was hard enough to stay upright.

As the police approached, sweat beaded on my brow, and painful spasms squeezed my heart. My breath froze. What the fuck had Ashley told them? I couldn’t think of a single thing I had done to warrant four officers.

Officer Asshole’s gaze turned to a point behind our table, and the police passed. My muscles became limp, and all the air left my lungs in a single breath.

The police stopped at the royal pretenders. “Barrett Riley, you are under arrest for sexual assault and for possession with intent to supply.”

Outraged shouts filled the dining room, and some of the younger students burst into tears. I clenched the back of my chair. Ever since his outburst, people had treated Barrett like a brave hero who had triumphed over personal tragedy. They had forgotten what he and his group of knights had done to earn Ashley’s wrath.

A boy from the football team shot out of his seat. “What the fuck is this? His twin and best friend just got killed!”

Sebastian wrapped an arm around my middle and guided me to my seat. “Ashley must have given her statement about the pigging.”

Leopold placed a comforting arm on my shoulder. “With any luck, there’s a group of officers doing the same at Byrd and Byrd.”

Nodding, I stared down at my plate of half-eaten eggs Benedict. Congealed yolk spread over the white porcelain, putting me off from continuing my breakfast.

I didn’t dare raise my head to see Barrett’s expression. If Ashley had reported them when she’d had the chance, she would have gotten justice. Now, the courts would treat her worse than they would treat Barrett.

“She’s a lying bitch,” he yelled. “I didn’t touch anyone!”

Barrett’s shouts of protest as they slapped handcuffs around his wrists and walked him out of the dining room turned into screams that made my blood curdle.

Leopold’s hand slid down my arm. He leaned close and murmured, “If you’re feeling bad for him, don’t. I saw what they did to Ashley. It was foul. Grotesque. I would have torn out their livers if that happened to me.”

My throat closed up, and I chewed my lip. Dealing with the police could be frustrating, heart-breaking, and tiresome, but murdering people wasn’t the answer.

* * *

On the last Friday morning of the term, Mr. Blunt interrupted our English class to tell us that we had a visitor. Pursing her lips with annoyance, Miss Claymore let us go, and we followed the caretaker to the meeting room.

When we opened the door, we found Mr. Pinkerton sitting in his usual seat, wearing the usual black suit. A male assistant sat on his right behind a stack of files. Leopold wrapped his hand around mine as we entered.

“Any news?” asked Sebastian.

“The Crown Prosecution Service has set Prakash’s court date for Friday.” He turned to his assistant. “I brought Rupert along because he’s been checking the translations on the diary you handed in.”

I swallowed hard. “It proves that she killed herself. The last entry is all about how she was a burden to her brother and wanted to die.”

Mr. Pinkerton grimaced. “If it had been written in plain English and Corrine had referred to people by name instead of cryptic codes, it might have been admissible.”

Rupert, the assistant added, “I focussed on the last few entries and used your system to turn the numbers into letters, but it was near impossible to make sense of anything.”

“But we translated it!” My heart pounded in my chest. “Corrine was a genius. We cracked her code. Isn’t that enough?”