Page 108 of Depraved Boys

“Sit,” said Mrs. Benazir.

I lowered myself onto the chair and gulped.

The headmistress pushed a copy of the Cumbria Gazette across her desk.

DRUNKEN SCHOOLGIRL PLUMMETS OFF HARD KNOTT PASS

Another pupil of the renowned Brittas Academy succumbs to the stress of maintaining the Elite Register top spot.

Throat tightening, I skimmed the contents of the article. The reporter had dug around for details and depicted me as an orphan taken up by Mrs. Benazir to artificially inflate the grades of paying students.

The article also said that students paid £80,000 a year for their education and compared it with Eton College, an institution established in 1440 that charged £42,500 and Institut Le Rosey, the most expensive school in the world, which cost approximately £105,000.

I sucked in a breath. Corrine had underestimated the price of Brittas Academy by fifty percent, but her diary entry matched the journalist’s scathing remarks.

Before I could turn the page, Mrs. Benazir’s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. “Explain how the reporter linked you to the academy. Have you been speaking to the press?”

I reared back. Of all the things I had expected the headmistress to say, it wasn’t an accusation of deliberately tarnishing her precious academy’s reputation.

“Answer me!”

“Maybe the reporter spoke to the police,” I said through clenched teeth. “Because I didn’t drink-drive. Someone must have forced alcohol down my throat because I would never—”

“Again?” Mrs. Benazir screeched. “Who is responsible, this time?”

My jaw tightened at her tone. It sounded like she was sick of me being the target for bullies, even though the situation was partially her fault. With the amount of cash she brought in from all the tuition fees, she could have employed extra staff to help manage student welfare, but all she seemed to care about was the school’s position on the Elite Register.

Miss Claymore shifted on her feet, reminding me that I still hadn’t answered Mrs. Benazir’s question.

After inhaling a deep, calming breath, I said, “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I have no memories of that Monday.”

Miss Claymore stepped forward. “None at all?”

“I remember the Sunday night and Monday morning, but everything after that is a blank.”

“What might have made bullies attack you this time?” The deputy head placed her hands on Mrs. Benazir’s desk, seeming more comfortable now. It was as though she was eager to pull up her sleeves and help investigate what had really happened to me on Monday night.

I blew out a relieved breath and offered her a tiny smile. “Maybe they wanted me to call off the police investigation on the sexual assault. Back at Ashley’s initiation ceremony, Bianca whispered to me that I would fall down a ditch. Maybe this is what she meant.”

Mrs. Benazir sniffed. “Pressing charges against the girls has made you a target.”

Boiling blood surged through my veins and into my cheeks. “You think I should let them get away with it?”

“I wouldn’t purport to tell you what to do.” Raising her nose in the air, the headmistress rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “However, actions have consequences.”

The ticking of her wall clock filled a silence that stretched out for several minutes. I glanced at Miss Claymore, who held her face in a neutral expression, then glowered at Mrs. Benazir, who stared back at me with pitiless eyes. While what she had said was correct, I had expected better from a woman who claimed to be taking measures to stamp out bullying.

“If I’d known scholars would be victimized so much, I might not have signed that contract.” I tried to keep the venom out of my voice. “But you only mentioned the possibility of bullying afterward.”

She leaned back in her seat. “Be that as it may, you are still required to maintain a grade average of ninety-five percent. The Board of Governors has called an emergency meeting and wish to investigate what is causing so many students to take such drastic actions.”

The words from Corrine’s diary drifted back to the forefront of my mind. She needed scholars because we kept her precious academy at the top of the Elite Register.

“At least someone cares about the plight of the students,” I said.

Miss Claymore straightened and folded her arms across her chest. “Leave, before you land yourself a detention.”

Pulling myself off out of my seat, I suppressed the urge to spit. If it wasn’t for my need to pay the bills, I would leave the academy and return to Cummersdale Comprehensive.