Page 250 of Depraved Boys

“There you are,” a whiney voice snapped.

Geraldine strode through the scholars’ common room with her nose in the air. Everyone, including the groups of people at the chess tables, stopped what they were doing to gape at her.

Cormac stood. “Geraldine.”

She ignored him and held out her smartphone. “I’m here for Pigsty. Someone wants to speak to you.”

I snapped the laptop shut and glowered up at her. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Her mouth gaped open. “Are you dumb?”

“No,” I snapped, “But I’m starting to believe you are.”

Her doe eyes widened, and she turned to her left to look at the sycophants who usually accompanied her, only to find a common room full of gaping scholars. When no one rose to her defense, she turned to Cormac. “Are you going to let her speak to me like this?”

“We’ve talked about it before,” he said in a tone so weary, I couldn’t help but wonder how many times they had argued about this. “Willow’s my friend and a person worthy of your respect.”

“Whatever!” She turned to me. “Are you going to speak to him or not?”

“Not.” I stood and placed my hands on my hips. “And I can’t believe a friend of Bianca’s would side with her greatest enemy.”

Her cheeks darkened. “That’s slander!”

In a low voice, I said, “If you want to help Bianca, stop running errands for Mr. Byrd. The next time he calls saying he has something of mine, tell him he can stick it up his ass!”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Says the perv who coerces other girls to perform oral sex on her,” I said in a voice loud enough to carry.

Her cheeks turned bright red. “Lying slut!”

I shook my head. “Keep insulting me, and I’ll spill all your dirty little secrets.”

Her gaze darted to Cormac, who stared between us, seeming not to know if we were trash-talking or hurling truths out of spite. I pulled back my shoulders and dared her to continue. She stuffed her phone into her pocket and stormed out of the common room. Like a love-struck fool, Cormac ran after her.

Hopefully, he would uncover Geraldine’s dirty secrets and realize that she was bullshitting him about the upcoming marriage in Gretna Green.

In English class, in the dining room, and in the hallway, Miss Claymore treated us like we were invisible, but I took her lack of overt attention to mean that she would become more stealthy in her attacks. Leopold, Sebastian, and I continued sleeping in Sebastian’s room with our camera phones positioned in case Miss Claymore developed another of her late-night yearnings.

Late one night, a few weeks after her return, the sound of a key turning in the lock yanked me out of my dream. My heart exploded into action, and I reached under my pillow, picked up the smartphone, and set it to record a video.

“Three-thirty-seven, Saturday the first of June, three weeks into the return of Miss Claymore,” I whispered into the smartphone.

The door opened about four inches and caught on the stop we had left to jam its progression.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Miss Claymore’s dry voice.

Keeping the phone directed at the door, I placed my hand over Leopold’s mouth, our signal to wake up quietly so as not to scare Miss Claymore away. When his eyes blinked open, I gave Sebastian a gentle kick in the side.

With a groan, Sebastian sat up and stretched.

“Seb!” she hissed. “Open the bloody door, or I’ll make things worse for you.”

Excitement surged in my chest, making my heart skip several beats. I tried to calm my breathing, so the camera didn’t pick it up. This footage was priceless. I gave Sebastian a nudge, encouraging him to give our movie a little context.

“How many times do I need to apologize?” he said. “It’s over, and I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”

“I just want to talk,” she said in a wheedling tone.