Page 37 of Depraved Boys

Miss Claymore grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and marched her out of the room.

“Little brat.” I shot Leopold my filthiest glare. If anyone deserved my wrath, it was him for corrupting an eleven-year-old.

The week plodded on with a slew of irritating pranks I couldn’t pin on the kings. First, one of the guys offering to help me lose my virginity stuck a sticker on my back that said 10k Punt, which I assumed was both a reference to Ireland’s old currency, a synonym for a bet, and a rhyming pun on female genitalia.

Next, some idiot pulled up my skirt—I whacked him in the face with a textbook before Cormac hauled him to Mrs. Benazir’s office. Another time, I found a used condom hanging off my doorknob, and on another occasion, someone threw orange juice at my back.

On Friday, I returned to my room to find my side ransacked, and the framed watercolor on the mantle smashed and torn to pieces. Mom had painted that with her love and her heart and her soul. Whoever did this just destroyed one of the few pieces of Mom I had left.

Grief lanced me through the heart, and my legs collapsed under the weight of my misery. “Oh, no.” I fell to my hands and knees and sobbed. “No!”

Ashley stepped through the door. “What’s going on?”

“Someone ripped up Mom’s watercolor,” I said through a voice thick with tears.

Ashley’s face paled, and she staggered back. “I… I need a drink.”

Mom’s reminder to take care of my sister flashed to the forefront of my mind. “No, stay.”

She spun on her heel and fled the room.

I curled into a ball and let out all my anger, all my frustration in harsh, wracking sobs. Mom was gone, and so was Dad. This destruction of Mom’s soul had cemented my loss, and it weighed on my heart like a boulder. Even worse, I was failing Mom’s wishes, and I didn’t have the strength to support Ashley.

When I had cried myself hoarse, and the tears stopped flowing, I pulled myself up and walked to the door. This was one round of bullying I would not overlook. They had gone too far, and it was time to speak to Miss Claymore.

It took nearly an hour to find the deputy head. She wasn’t in her office, wasn’t in the dining room, and wasn’t with Mrs. Benazir. After checking the lecture theater, the staff common room, and the library, I walked back to her office and knocked.

“Enter,” she said.

I stepped into the room to find her sitting on the fainting couch with a book.

“Miss Evergreen,” she asked. “Are you here to discuss the performance of your sister?”

“Something terrible has happened.”

“What?” She placed the book on the couch and stood. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know, but someone’s been harassing me with anonymous notes. Now they’ve escalated and turned my side of the room upside-down and torn up a family picture.”

She tilted her head to the side and placed her hands on her hips. “A picture. Was there another harassing note?”

“No.” I shook my head. “There might have been. I was so distracted by the torn picture. My mom painted it before she died, and it has sentimental value.”

Her stern features softened. “Of course. I thought you were referring to a photo. Alright, let’s go to your room and see what else the culprit left.”

We walked together in silence through the hallways to the west wing and up the stairs. My stomach roiled with dread, and bile rose to the back of my throat. The author of the first note had wanted me to stay away from Sebastian. I hadn’t voluntarily spoken to him since the incident in the swimming block. What more did they want?

Miss Claymore paused at my door. “You don’t have to come inside if it’s too disturbing, and we can arrange alternative accommodation for you and your sister.”

I nodded my thanks and waited out in the hallway.

With a sharp, inward breath, the deputy headmistress flung the door open and stepped into the room. A heartbeat later, she said, “Oh.”

I held my breath. What on earth had she found?

“Miss Evergreen, are you sure the picture was there? I don’t see any mess.”

I stepped into my room. Everything had been tidied up, and they’d even cleared the broken glass and ripped up portrait.