“See? I told you she’s been making eyes at Trey, too,” Tillie hissed to Courtney.
Shit. Too late, I snapped my attention back to the girls. They’d seen me looking at Trey. They could read my guilt all over my face.
“You have no shame,” Tillie snarled. “You’re looking at my boyfriend. You’re practically drooling. It’sdisgusting. Even if he was single, he’d never be into a pig like you.”
“We’ve beenniceto you, gutter whore.” Courtney’s voice dripped with saccharine sweetness. “We’ve tried to welcome you to this school and make sure you know what to do if you want to survive. But you haven’t learned your place, so I see we’re going to have to take drastic measures.”
“Oooh, I’m so scared,” I held myself and pretended to shudder.
“You won’t be laughing soon,” Courtney’s eyes flashed. “We’re going to make you wish you’d never been born.”
Chapter Twelve
I figured Courtney would focus her energy on humiliating me at the party, which despite what I’d implied at the lacrosse game I had no intention of attending. She’d be at the venue with a bucket of pig’s blood just waiting for Quinn to lead me to a certain spot. I figured if I stayed in my room and taught Loretta how to play blackjack then I’d avoid the whole thing.
I figured wrong.
On Monday morning, Ayaz shoved his way past me as I walked into homeroom, a cloud of opium and fury. He whipped the black bandana off my head. My dreads tumbled free, flopping down over my eyes.
“Give that back.” I grabbed for the bandana. Ayaz smirked and tossed it to Quinn, who flung it at Courtney, who balled it up and shoved it into her purse.
Snickers erupted from the royal court. Mr. Dexter looked up from his papers and surveyed the class. He zeroed in on me in the doorway, trying to hold my dreads back from my face. “Ms. Waite, that’s not a regulation haircut.”
Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled toward me. My cheeks burned as a dreadlock fell over my eye. Courtney sniggered behind her hand.
“I know, Mr. Dexter. I’ve already discussed it with Ms. West. I’ll be fixing it as soon as I’ve earned a pass-out to go into Arkham for a haircut. Headmistress West said I could wear a bandana until then.”
“If this is true, where is your bandana?” he demanded.
“It’s… “ I glanced over at Courtney, who had her head buried in her notebook. I knew better than to demand she return the bandana. “I must have left it in my locker.”
“Very well. Make sure you pick it up before your first class, or you’ll be facing the loss of your merit points.” He nodded and returned to his papers.
I slumped down beside Greg. “Do you have a bandana or scarf or oversized novelty handkerchief or something I could borrow? I doubt every teacher is going to be as understanding as Dexter.”
I’d finally crossed 200 merit points and I didn’t want a single one taken away. I reached up and touched my hair, longing for the comfort the weight of my hand usually brought. But there was no comfort to be had – not with judgmental eyes burning into my skin and Mom and Dante dead and buried forever.
I loved my dreads. They reminded me of where I came from, of who I’d been and who I’d loved before the fire that had taken my life away. But looking around the room at the preppy haircuts and perfectly-styled bangs, the blow-waves and the highlights that cost more than a month’s rent, a ball of shame lodged in my throat. I saw what they saw when they looked at me – dirty hair, cheap nail polish… a gutter whore pretending to be royalty.
I don’t belong here.
Never had it been more obvious than with my hair on display. My dreads hadn’t been touched up in months – stuck in the same state they’d been in before the fire, only even though time stopped for me, my hair kept growing, and now they were just ratty and unkempt. I’d waxed them yesterday, rolling them as tight as I could, but the ends were unraveling and the regrowth made the tips lumpy. Scorn rolled over me as I realized I looked like shit, and I cared, I fuckingcared, and I hated it.
This school… it would make me into something I wasn’t. It would crush the gutter whore out of me.
“Sorry, honey.” Greg glanced across at the monarchs, who watched me with hungry expressions. “Even if I did have something, I don’t think it would do much good. They’d only steal it, too.”
Across the room, Courtney smirked at me. With a sinking feeling, I realized this was only phase one of their attack. The warning shots. They were gearing up for the big push.
After homeroom, I dug through my whole locker, but I couldn’t find anything to cover my hair that wouldn’t get me in more trouble. My first class was history. I raced in early and sat right at the back. Dr. Morgan didn’t seem to notice. But the physics teacher, Professor Atwood, frowned at me as soon as I entered the classroom.
“Ms. Waite, that hairstyle is against school rules.”
“Please, Mr. Atwood, I have dispensation from Headmistress West until I can get it cut—”
“Rules are rules.” He cut me off, as he clicked away on his ancient-looking laptop. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to watch my points total drop on the screen behind his desk.
I worked so fucking hard to crawl my way up the rankings, and the monarchs were determined to ruin what little progress I’d made. Even though they started life with every advantage, they weren’t going to let me have an inch. Not even fucking 200 points. Everything felt like too much today – I longed to throw my bookbag at Professor Atwood, storm out of Derleth Academy, and never come back. At least working in a diner was honest. At least I knew where I stood. At least I earned every fucking cent I made.
