Page 4 of Depraved Boys

I chewed my lip. Ashley was barely coping with Mom and Dad’s deaths, and Mom had explicitly asked me to take care of Ashley if the breast cancer metastasized. Neither of them would approve of me going to a fancy boarding school while Ashley remained penniless in that house on her own.

“One more thing,” I said. “My twin sister—”

“Wonderful.” Mrs. Benazir clapped her hands together and grinned. “If she’s anything like you, I can extend the offer to her.”

“Her grades aren’t as high.”

That was an understatement, but I had a feeling that telling the headmistress about Ashley’s drinking and partying would lead to an abrupt refusal.

“Miss Evergreen, this is an academic institution. Everyone passing through these gates has a vested interest in joining Oxbridge or Ivy League universities. Having an individual like your sister will lower our grade averages and subsequently, our standing.”

“Ninety-five,” I blurted.

“Willow,” Uncle hissed.

“Pardon?” asked Mrs. Benazir.

My heart accelerated. Leaving Ashley behind wasn’t an option. And neither was leaving here without an offer. “If you let her in, I’ll maintain an average of ninety-five percent.”

Her brows rose. “Is your sister capable of maintaining an average of eighty percent?”

I nodded. We had been equally as academic in London. Something had changed when we moved to Carlisle, and she no longer wanted to study. But in a place like this, away from all the parties and from the bad influences, she might take life seriously.

The headmistress glanced down at her papers. “Ninety-five percent, and I want you to try out for the swim team.”

Uncle leaned forward. “That’s too mu—”

“Willow was London’s under-eleven county champion, yes?” asked the older woman.

My brows furrowed. “I was, but I haven’t swum competitively since I was thirteen.”

“Good. We need an injection of talent in that particular area.” She pulled out a piece of paper, jotted down a few numbers, signed, and pushed it across the table.

Uncle Trevor and I read through the contract. It was nothing ominous, just an agreement that I would receive my bursary each month and a bonus at the end of the academic year subject to performance. We both signed in the appropriate spaces and pushed the paper back to the headmistress.

She blew on the ink. “There’s one more thing. At the Brittas Academy, we take the welfare of our scholars very seriously. Bullying was an issue, but we have taken measures to stamp it out. If anyone gives you problems, contact my deputy or me.”

“What kind of problems?” I asked.

“Name-calling, shoving, that sort of thing,” she said in a guarded tone. “But as I said before, we have taken measures to stamp out the bullying.”

Uncle leaned forward, hands clutching the arms of his oak chair. “Are you referring to a particular incident?”

“It’s no cause for alarm.” She waved a plump, manicured hand. “Our students work hard and play hard. Sometimes they need a little awareness of how their words and actions impact others.”

“Did you expel the ringleaders?” asked Uncle Trevor.

The headmistress gave us a tight smile. “As I said, it’s just a precaution. Bullying is no longer an issue, and we’ve taken measures to protect our valued scholars.”

She stood, her way of ending an uncomfortable conversation and dismissing us, I suppose. Uncle and I exchanged puzzled looks and rose from our seats.

All this talk of bullying after we’d signed the contract made the lining of my stomach tremble. Why would a bunch of academic young people bully each other? When would they have the time if they were too busy studying? We walked down the hallway together in silence.

Uncle Trevor leaned into me. “If anyone’s giving you trouble, don’t just tell the headmistress. You’ll call me, alright?”

“I will.” But the dread roiling through the pit of my stomach told me I might have made a terrible mistake.

CHAPTER TWO