Page 17 of Hateful
“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. Iknewthis 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 … notreal.
“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 andthem.
