Page 42 of Depraved Boys

“Are they scholars like us?”

“No, but excellence in sports counts toward the Elite Register, and many of the boys go on to play for major teams.” Cormac tapped the side of his nose. “Then they return with their millions and make hefty donations to the academy that honed their skills.”

I narrowed my eyes and turned my gaze to the empty seat next to Miss Claymore. Corrine had said something similar in her diary. Mrs. Benazir ran Brittas Academy like a business.

Ashley flounced back to her seat with a bowl of cereal.

Since Miss Claymore continued directing her meaningful stare at me, I pulled myself to my feet and said, “I’d better catch my sister while she’s here.”

Later that day, Ashley paced up and down our room, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. “Do you know what the girls call me? Charity cunt.”

“Why would they say—”

“My grades. I have an average of fifty-five!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis.

A shudder ran down my spine. Miss Claymore had told me her average was sixty percent. “I can tutor you. You could reach eighty in less than a few weeks.”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat. “The tuition here is sub-standard. I go to lectures and barely understand the teacher.”

“If you did your prep or even attended half your classes, you’d keep up.” I ran a hand through my hair. “There isn’t much difference between us, you know.”

With a scoff, Ashley swept her hands down her slender body. “Look at me and look at you. We’re opposites.”

Irritation crawled over my skin. One more jibe about my appearance and I’d lay into Ashley about her lack of tact. “Our grades were the same at St. Benedict’s. Then we left London, and things changed. What happened?”

“That was different.” She flounced across the room and sat on her bed.

“Why?” I asked. “Dad said his job at the university was an opportunity of a lifetime, but I’m wondering if we moved for another reason.”

She tossed her head. “You’ve always been the one everyone fussed over.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” She advanced on me with her fists on her hips. “All those evening lectures. All those award ceremonies. All those bloody cultural events. What happened the night they died, Willow? Were they bringing you back from winning another pointless trophy?”

“I wasn’t even in the car.”

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“So are you.” I scratched my head. She had distracted me from her academic performance. Again.

Ashley sniffed as though bored with the subject of Mom and Dad’s death. “The Queens of Brittas have offered me a place in their group.”

“Why?”

She whirled on me, eyes flashing. “When I asked why Sebastian would be interested in you, sparks flew. Now you’re asking me the same?”

I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. Was this how Cormac felt when his sister’s personality had changed? Ashley hadn’t been so erratic before Brittas Academy.

I couldn’t tell if Mom and Dad’s death had changed her or if she was suffering from withdrawal. Maybe DJ Bones and all those parties had been a lifeline. I really couldn’t work out my sister.

Ashley continued glowering at me, perhaps waiting for an apology.

Raising my shoulders, I said, “If Geraldine and Bianca are calling you a charity you-know-what, why would they invite you to join their gang? It just looks suspicious to me.”

“What a hypocrite!” Ashley stormed out of the room.

I stared at a framed photo of Mom and Dad on my bedside table. “Everything I say seems to either offend or upset her. And I keep taking offense to what she says. How did you cope with her?”