Then I crumple the paper and turn around, tossing it at Dorian.
He dodges and catches it with his left hand, grinning the whole time.
I growl at him. “Leave Nils alone.”
Helga clears her throat loudly.
Nils is hernephew. Shouldn’t she do something about this? I turn around, tapping my pen on the desk impatiently. Funny how Helga said nothing about the harassment that’s continued all class, but as soon asIdo something, she’s paying attention.
While Helga continues her lecture, Dorian chucks the paper ball atNils again. My hand shoots out on instinct, and I catch it before it can hit the back of Nils’s head. I blink a few times in surprise before unfurling the ball.
Unmanly.
Nils grabs it from my hands and quickly crumples it up. “I told you, it’s nothing,” he mutters, his face red with humiliation. “I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore, Edith.”
“Except it clearly does.”
My stomach squeezes as he blushes harder. Nils didn’t want to make a big deal of it so I wouldn’t find out whatargrmeans.
Bea did the same thing when she was bullied. One day, I caught her taking a pair of scissors to her auburn hair. When I grabbed her hand, she said,What? I want short hair like you, Edith.I frowned at her.My hair is only short because I bleach it so much. Your hair is so long and pretty.Just like Mom’s, I didn’t say. Bea looked up at me with tears in her eyes.I hate my hair. Everyone at school calls me a ginger.
Even though I told Patricia about it, it didn’t seem like enough. I wanted to hurt every last one of her classmates for hurting my sister. For making her hate our mom’s auburn hair when IwishI had it too. My chest suddenly feels tight, and it’s hard to breathe. Nils doesn’t deserve this either. Why are the nicest kids always bullied?
As I look down at my hands, my claws begin to emerge.Shit. I can’t lose control here—especially not in front of Helga. She warned me I have to take my studies seriously or I won’t be welcome at Skallagrim.
Breathing heavily, I try to rein my anger in. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to calm down. As I look at my long, pale claws, all I can see are the slashes that covered Emilía. The scratches covering the door of my parents’ bedroom.
My mom lying there.
Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away quickly.
Nils studies me intently.
Great. I do my best to hide my claws.
To my surprise, he reaches out for my hand and captures it in his. His touch startles me—until I realize he’s helping conceal my claws.
Nils leans over close enough to whisper in my ear. “It’s okay, Edith. You’re okay. Just breathe.”
He’s right. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I try to focus on my breathing, in and out, in and out. The gentle weight of his hand on mine helps ground me.
I’m grateful Nils is sitting beside me and not his brother.
If Amund ever saw me like this, I don’t know what he would do.
At least Nils believes I’m not a killer.
My claws slice into my palms. I’mnota killer.
Even if I could still be deadly.
I wait until everyone leaves the lecture hall before I check my hands. My claws are gone.Thank God.A relieved sigh escapes me as I stuff my notebook back into my bag.
Nils is looking at me with a frown. “You’re bleeding.”
“Hm?” I glance down.
Blood wells in both my palms. I stare down in disbelief. Normally, the most my nails leave behind are bright red crescents. But these weren’t nails. I wince. These were claws.
