Page 143 of Depraved Boys

“I still have that box in my room,” said Prakash. “What do you want me to do with its contents?”

“I’ll collect them after class and call the police in my next free period. Those photos will be proof that I wasn’t conscious.”

“If you want, I can drive you to the police station at lunchtime,” said Prakash.

“Thanks, but Miss Claymore said I have to see Mrs. Benazir then. If you’re free after prep, I’d welcome a ride to Carlisle.”

“Are you meeting Mrs. Benazir in her office?” Prakash’s gaze slid to Leopold’s.

“Yes. Why?” I asked.

“We just want to know where you’ll be.”

I nodded and dipped my gaze to my kippers on toast. Somehow, Mrs. Benazir would find a way to twist things around so that the school wasn’t responsible for those photos.

The fury in Miss Claymore’s glower made me shudder. It had been bad enough that the deputy head had been left to face the Board of Governors on her own, but she probably also had to make some hasty explanations about why naked pictures of the school’s highest-scoring student made their way into the prospectuses.

Prakash and I walked to Advanced Calculus together, where Miss Weir paused the class to ask whether I’d had a relapse. And in English class, Sebastian sat at the front looking so distracted, Miss Claymore made him stay behind for not paying attention.

On my way out, I bumped into Cormac, who flushed and scampered away like a frightened rabbit. He probably had difficulty looking me in the eye after seeing those nude pictures.

“Good luck with Mrs. Benazir,” said Prakash as we stepped out into the hallway. “Remember, you’re the wronged party, and she needs to make amends with you and not the other way around.”

“Thanks.” Warmth spread through my chest. His advice, whenever I had taken it, had never steered me wrong.

I walked down the stairs and through the hallway, dread made my feet drag along the floor, but I threw back my shoulders and let Prakash’s words fill my mind. Miss Claymore and Mrs. Benazir should be apologizing, not asking for explanations.

With as much confidence as I could muster, I rapped on her door. “Mrs. Benazir?”

“Miss Evergreen?” the woman slurred.

I stepped inside to find the headmistress slumped over her desk.

“I-is anything the matter?” I asked.

She rubbed her stomach. “I had prawns last night. It was probably a bad choice.”

“Oh.” I gulped. “Should I call Dr. Forrester?”

She waved me inside. “Over a bout of food poisoning? I’m sure it will pass soon.”

Mrs. Benazir reached down and spat into her metal waste-paper basket. The whole scenario reminded me of that time I entered Miss. Claymore’s office, feeling sick. I reached into my blazer pocket and pulled out a tube of the deputy head’s ginger mints to stave off my nausea.

The headmistress bent over double and retched into the trashcan. My stomach muscles spasmed in sympathy, and I tore open the ginger mints. I might not be fond of how the woman conducted the academy, but she did allow me to maintain the family home.

A clang of metal hitting the floor made my stomach flip, and the thud of a body hitting the floor made my heart jump into my throat. I rushed around the desk to find Mrs. Benazir lying on her side with her hair caked in vomit.

“Mrs. Ben—”

The crack of something heavy hitting my skull made everything go black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A persistent ringing in my ears forced me awake, followed by the chattering of my teeth. My head pounded, and it took several moments for me to realize that something terrible had happened, and I wasn’t in the Cumbria Royal Infirmary.

I opened my eyes to perfect darkness and inhaled a noisy gasp. Had I lost my sight? Blinking made no difference, and neither did rubbing my eyes with the back of my numb hands.

“Shit.” My voice echoed as though I was in a largish bathroom, making me wonder where the hell I was, how I had gotten there, and who had put me in this situation.