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Never in my life will I see mountains like this again, or rough-spoken passionate Scottish boys in kilts. Never will I have the ability to study in an ancient castle. Never again will I be able to speak with political royalty and actual royalty. Never will I be able to create my own future far away from a past that keeps trying to drag me down, submerging me until I’m as downtrodden as everyone else in my dilapidated hometown.
There is spirit in my heart and it’s pulling me up, up and away from all that I’ve been born into.
Losing Lochkelvin… Maybe I actuallywouldmiss this stupid school, with its towering library and strange forest.
“You can’t stay here,” Baxter tells me in a firm voice, as though she’s made her mind up. “You are not Lochkelvin material. You’ve let yourself down, Miss Weir. Your scholarship application showed remarkable promise and I was particularly inspired by your devotion to female empowerment, but unfortunately you appear to have succumbed to the vile vulgarity common in your culture. Throughout this semester, I’ve tried my best to steer you in the right direction. I’ve tried to save you from yourself. But ultimately it’s a numbers game and you possess no natural aptitude for politics. Perhaps you’d be better off at a dance studio instead.”
She may as well have ripped out my budding heart and stomped on it.
I don’t move. I’ve turned as still as a statue, gazing down at the papers neatly filed on Baxter’s wooden desk.
“We’ll make arrangements first thing tomorrow.”
I have one thing up my sleeve, one last trick to convince Baxter.
It’s not a trick I’m proud of — but hey, let’s just say that hanging around Rory has taught me a thing or two.
As I stare at the looping signature on one of the pieces of paper on Baxter’s desk, I tell her slowly, “I know you submit to Rory’s dad. Every little thing he requests to make Rory look his best, I know you do it. I know you have to, because he probably threatens to kick you out. Can’t have a woman ruling a boys’ school, after all, unless she’s a puppet leader.” My mouth twists as I gaze up at Baxter. “So what else did you give away to become headmistress here? Your compassion? Your ambition?”
Baxter eyes me like she’s not sure where this is going.
“Don’t you see you’re doing the exact same thing to me that he does to you? You’re just enforcing it, the pattern of corruption. He threatens you, you threaten me.”And I threaten you right back. “You’re complicit. A puppet. I’m sure a lot of people would be interested to know just how much power Oscar Munro has over their children. All the parents are in that dining hall right now.” I snatch up the top piece of paper on Baxter’s desk. “Why don’t I show them this missive from the real master of the school? The man who’s pulling all your strings?”
There’s a dark look on Baxter’s face. “You have no idea what you’re meddling in.”
“Fine. So maybe I don’t tell all the parents. But maybe I tell Arabella? Arabella, who for some reason believes the sun shines right out of you.”
At this, Baxter finally shows some kind of human emotion. Her eyes shutter and slide down to the piece of paper in my hand.
“Arabella, who thinks you’ve single-handedly smashed the patriarchy by being openly elected into this position.” I stare at her. “What did you have todoto get promoted here? Accept bribes, be blackmailed? Worse?”
“I don’t like your tone, Miss Weir—”
“I don’t like yours, either. You’ve been punishing the girls and turning a blind eye to the boys. You’ve given me more detentions than anyone in Lochkelvin history. And for what? Because I exist? Because I’m a girl? Because you thought you could get away with it? Because it’s what Oscar Munro wants?” I’m pacing in front of Baxter’s desk, fuming as I gaze down at the sheet of paper in my hands. I’m so enraged that the words blur in front of me.
“Let’s take the American girl,” I continue, “the one who’s miles away from her home, the one who’s unversed in our ways, and systematically destroy her confidence. Let’s crush her optimism. Let’s threaten to expel her, and then, when she’s begging us not to, we’ll torture her some more. You get the boys to punish the girls, so it doesn’t look like it’s your doing. But it’s all your doing, because no one actuallywantsgirls here. Maybe you did once upon a time, but now you prefer the big bonuses that Oscar Munro feeds you to turn a blind eye. You prefer that to the hassle of the girls — or the hassle the boys causearoundthe girls. A little bit of money is so much tastier than social justice, yeah?”
I lean forward, looking into the whites of her large eyes. “You may have made me a scapegoat, Headmistress. But you know what kind of person you are? Atraitor.”
