Hateful by Eden Beck
Chapter Seven
Jasper must have told him.That’s the only explanation.
And yet … over the next few days, Heath returns to behaving as normal … meaning completely ignoring me.
If only he and The Brotherhood weren’t the only ones.
I can never let Rafael party again. I can never let him leave me to wander the halls by myself in the early hours, because the next weekend he gets another debilitating hangover, and I’m cornered by yet another person I absolutely don’t want to talk to.
And without him here to whisk me away, I have no choice but to face it.
It’s lunch time. I grab some food and a sports drink for Rafael—it’s the least I can do after all the times he’s helped me—and make my way back to my dorm to eat there. I just got last week’s math test back, and I absolutely aced it. My grades are improving rapidly now that The Brotherhood isn’t around to distract me. I can focus on studying so much better now.
I may be able to focus on studying, but somehow I’ve become distracted when it comes to everything else.
I’m humming tunelessly to myself as I head through a sparsely populated corridor, taking a shortcut toward the dormitory wing now that I’m not likely to be cornered in some dark closet by Jasper, Heath, or Beck. The hall is lined with doors to old classrooms that are usually used as clubrooms nowadays. I pass by the chess club door just as it opens—and Headmistress Robin steps out, a smile curling onto her face as I almost smack into her.
“Mr. Trevellian,” she says in a tone that’s almost pleasant. “How lovely to see you.”
I freeze. They say when you get a rush of adrenaline, your fight-or-flight instincts kick in. Mine must not work, because I do neither.
But I should. I should feel fear around her, because right now … she’s my biggest threat.
Instead, I react too slow. I glance over my shoulder, trying to think of some excuse—any excuse—to head in the opposite direction, but she beats me to the punch.
“It’s lunchtime now, is it not?” she says, following my hasty glance. “Surely you have time. How about we pop into this classroom over here?” She smiles and gently places a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that is hardly reassuring coming from her.
To any outside observer it would look like a very friendly pat, but I feel the iron grip of her seemingly delicate fingers clamp down over my hoodie.
I’m trapped.
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice. Whatever plans she has, I don’t want any part of them. I know that. But I have no choice.
She tugs me into the next classroom over. I can tell it’s not used often. The desks here are still lined up neatly, but the chairs have been placed upside-down on top of them, their metal legs sticking straight up. I feel a slight rush of panic as the memory of the winter dance surfaces unwillingly to mind.
Was this it? The room where Jasper once cornered me, attacked me?
Just the thought makes me seize up, my feet cemented to the floor beneath me. Headmistress Robin takes the opportunity to slip around me and push the door shut behind us. At least she does us both the courtesy of flicking on the light so I can see the thick buildup of dust on the windowsills and along the floor.
From the single set of footprints leading inside, it looks like this room hasn’t been disturbed in months.
The realization brings me a brief sense of relief. This isn’t the room.
Still, that relief doesn’t last long.
Headmistress Robin grabs a chair and flips it one-handed to place it on the floor in front of her. “Have a seat,” she says in a friendly tone as she grabs another chair. I’m trapped, so with no other option, I do as she bids, putting my bag of food awkwardly in my lap.
She settles into the plastic student-sized chair and still manages to look regal doing so. By comparison, I probably look like a pile of abandoned laundry.
“How’s this semester been treating you, Alex?”
“Fine,” I mumble, grateful for once for a bit of small talk. I’m hoping it buys me a moment to figure out a plan of action. I have to find a way out of this. There has to be a way out of this.
I’ve been getting used to an uncomplicated semester. I want it to stay that way.
“That’s good to hear. Will you be participating in the annual challenge against my school?”
And now … now that catches me off guard. So much for composing myself.
I have no option now than to go with the truth, whatever that might mean for me.
“No,” I say, squirming under the intensity of her gaze. “There’s some other boys who are going to represent Bleakwood. I just want to focus on my studies.” I try to stress that last part, but I just end up sounding scared.
She smiles, and it’s not friendly. “Admirable of you. I’d love to see you succeed and graduate from Bleakwood. It would be a shame if the dean were to find out about your true identity and expel you.”
My stomach drops as she looks at me with that cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I thought she was getting to the point before. Now, now she’s just being brutal about it.
All I can do is nod and do my best to keep looking her in the eyes.
“Yeah. It would be.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Well, I think there’s a way you can help me, Alex,” she says, smoothing out some nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt. “There’s some information I need that I can’t get the dean to tell me.”
“I don’t know anything,” I say quickly. “And I know I … I promised to help you before, but I was disoriented. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
She laughs, and just like her smile, it’s not kind. It’s not from humor.
“No, I don’t suppose you did. How could you, after all? But I’m not asking you to tell me what you know. I’m asking you to find something out for me.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I grab ahold of the bag in my lap and fiddle with the handles nervously.
“I don’t understand,” I admit.
“It’s very simple,” she says. “You can get me my information, or you can be expelled once the dean finds out you’re a girl.” The headmistress takes off her glasses and begins to gently clean the lenses with the hem of her silky blouse. “It’s your choice.”
“I … why are you doing this?” I ask. I’m fumbling. My brain is running around in circles inside my own head. I knew this was what she was after. I knew this was going to be the deal.
Hearing her say it out loud, in such bare and unadulterated terms, chills me to my core.
Ever since I arrived here at Bleakwood, I’ve been a pawn in someone else’s twisted games. I suppose that hasn’t changed. Which might be why what she says next takes me a little by surprise.
“Bleakwood is a very prestigious school and has long been only for boys. Don’t you think that’s an injustice?” She puts her glasses back on and folds her hands in her lap primly. “My school does every bit as well as Bleakwood. Our standard of education is just as high. But because it doesn’t carry the prestigious name, my girls don’t have their pick of colleges the way Bleakwood graduates do.”
She breathes a labored sigh before continuing. “Why am I doing this, Alex? I’d like to integrate the schools. Girls should be able to have Bleakwood’s name on their college applications and get the same opportunities as the boys here.”
“How am I supposed to help you do that?”
I can’t really deny that it’s a nice idea. I’d love to be able to be myself. But I’m just a teenager, practically a kid—and not the best role model of one at the moment, either. How is anything I can do going to help at all?
Headmistress Robin might have lofty ideals, but that’s it. They’re ideal … not real.
“You let me worry about the big picture,” Headmistress Robin replies pleasantly, her smile reappearing. This time it’s less menacing … if only by a little. “The less you know, the better. That way you can just claim ignorance if you’re caught.”
I think on this for a moment.
I know it’s not going to be that simple … but if she’s forcing me to do this anyway, at least I can stand behind why she’s having me do it. Not that it justifies her blackmailing me to begin with.
“Fine,” I say. “So … what do you want me to do?”
“For right now? Nothing yet.” She grins, and this time it does reach her eyes. I don’t know what sort of smile is worse. “I just needed you to agree to help me. And keep your ears open.”
That doesn’t sound like nothing.
That sounds like she’s going to be expecting a report … and probably sooner, rather than later.
I gulp.
She doesn’t wait for me to reply. She just stands up and brushes dust off her skirt.
“Have a nice lunch. Say hello to your roommate for me.”
Why is it that everything she says now sounds like a threat?
“Sure,” I reply weakly as she steps around me toward the door.
But then she doesn’t leave, not right away. “Oh—and be a dear and put those chairs back.” She sweeps out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
I look down at my hands. They’re shaking.
She might claim we’re on the same side, but I disagree. I’m on no one’s side here at Bleakwood.
There is only me and them.
And they all want something from me.