Page 132 of Depraved Boys

“Going to…” Another spasm seized my guts. “Vomit!”

Miss Claymore reached under her desk and whipped out a trashcan. “Use the bin!”

Grabbing the cold metal item, I twisted in my seat and placed it on my lap. Just in time for my breakfast and two doses of the Chinese herbs to splatter onto a used copy of The Times and scraps of balled up paper.

“Sorry.” I spat into its metal depths. “Ugh… This isn’t like me.”

“Maybe you should see Dr. Forrester,” she said. “Vomiting is a symptom of concussion.”

Blinking away the water in my eyes, I rubbed my aching belly. “I think I might.”

“Now,” she said in a voice made of steel.

I pulled myself out of my seat and headed for the door. These days, everything was getting to me. Seeing the boys who had assaulted Ashley go unpunished, Bianca’s terrible secret, and the knowledge that someone in this academy was a potential murderer.

“Miss Evergreen,” she said.

“Yes?” I paused at the doorway.

“You have my wastepaper basket.”

“I was going to wash it.”

She shook her head. “For goodness’ sake, girl! Put it down. You’re ill.”

“Right… Sorry.”

Miss Claymore’s eyes softened, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tube of candies. “Take these.”

I walked back to her desk and set the trashcan on the ground. “G-ginger mints?”

“When my mother had chemotherapy for breast cancer, it was the only thing that helped with her nausea.”

“A-are you sure?”

She slapped the candies into my hand. “It’s a replaceable tube of sweets available at any corner shop, not a family heirloom.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. What was it about memories of the deceased that made me lose my mind? “Right… Sorry.”

“Go. Interrupt Dr. Forrester’s class if you must, but someone needs to take a look at that concussion.”

I was about to apologize again but gave myself a slap upside the head. Miss Claymore probably wanted to get rid of me and my stinking vomit.

I reached down to the floor, picked up my bag, and slung its strap over my shoulder. Would I be able to face the deputy head again without feeling humiliated?

“One more thing,” she said.

“Yes, Miss?” I paused at the doorway.

She strode around her desk and handed me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the itinerary for the upcoming Board of Governors’ meeting. You will accompany me and tell the esteemed members of your experiences at the academy.”

I gulped. “Why me?”

“You’re our highest-scoring sixth-former. Mr. Gibbons will also be present.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. “Now, off you go.”

I made my way to the infirmary downstairs, but Dr. Forrester wasn’t there.

As my gaze caught the roll of absorbent paper on the wall, a memory of Cormac flashed to the forefront of my mind. He was tearing off huge swathes and then ranting about Corrine’s obsession with the kings.