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“Your behavior today was unacceptable. It is not your place to waylay staff and threaten them. You created a dangerous situation,” Jane lectures from the rear.
“I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. I am sorry about that,” Storm apologizes unreservedly. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen to you, Ms König.”
Laura does not accept her apology. She doesn’t even acknowledge it.
“Miss König is going to discipline you,” Jane says, passing a paddle around Storm to Laura. “She was there, and I was not.”
“Oh, fuck no,” Storm gasps, her eyes locked on that paddle as it passes by. She cannot begin to imagine how much that would hurt when wielded by an angry guard. “Not her. She’s not qualified! She doesn’t have a degree in discipline! She can’t be trusted.”
“I’m satisfied she has a sufficient grasp on discipline to deal with you.”
Storm looks at Laura, and then at the paddle, and then at Laura. There is no mercy or warmth in Laura’s gaze. That woman is angry, and she is not going to be satisfied until she has her pound of flesh.
There is no way Storm is going to let this happen.
She’s never defied Jane directly, but Laura is not Jane. Laura produces a different reaction in Storm. She knows very well how far she’s pushed this woman. She knows that expression on her face has to mean pain of the kind she has no intention of experiencing.
Storm doesn’t just think about running. She actually runs.
And that’s where a lifetime of being a pain in the ass pays off. Years spent on playgrounds and parks dodging bigger, older, and even faster people is just the training she needs for this moment.
She dips to Laura’s right, which happens to be the hand she is holding the paddle in. That means Laura has to reach across her body in the attempt to catch her, which makes her spin, which slows her down just enough to give Storm enough time to reach the door, wrench it open, and bolt.
* * *
Jane watches the little scene unfold with a less than impressed expression. That was not what she expected to happen. She expected Storm to beg, whine, charm, plead, and generally attempt to get her way out of trouble.
“Do you see what I mean?” Laura turns back to her.
“Yes,” Jane says sternly. “I see precisely what you mean. I am sorry, Laura. She knows better.”
“Does she? Or does she act better with you, and only you. Whatever you are teaching is not extending beyond your borders.”
Jane nods. That is clear. Storm might be good for her, but she is still a complete and utter terror for everybody else.
“I don’t think she should get away with running,” Laura says.
“Nor do I,” Jane agrees. “It needs to be firmly impressed upon her that in matters of discipline, she stays and takes what she has coming.”
* * *
“Fuck,” Storm curses to herself. “Fucking fuck fuck.”
She’s run upstairs to the first-year common room, to the place she previously earmarked as a last-ditch hiding spot. Not many people notice that there’s a cupboard in the wall there. It looks like it’s for storage, but when she opened it one day, she discovered that it was not a cupboard at all. It’s actually a passage up and through to the attic of the school. It’s an access point for maintenance, probably, but there are all sorts of partitions up here, and bits of furniture stored away, and even lights and whatnot, so it’s actually quite comfortable.
She’s reasonably certain she will not be found here, but this is a short-term solution to a big fucking problem. Two problems, actually. Laura was already mad, but now Jane will be too. Storm can’t exactly deny what happened or try to reframe it. Jane saw every second of it.
Storm sneaks across the roof, not wanting to distract anybody below with footsteps. She slings herself into an old high-backed chair which has been stored up here, and stuffs a knuckle into her mouth, something to chew on as she tries to come to terms with what just happened and how the hell it might be fixed without an incredible amount of pain.
A heartfelt apology might work for Jane, but Laura wants blood. She made that clear. Maybe if she went back down right now and apologized profusely for it all, that might work. Maybe they’d be so impressed with her good behavior they’d forgive her for it.
Maybe not.
* * *
“Someone will have seen her,” Laura says as she and Jane walk the surprisingly quiet halls of the school.
“Most of the girls are on leave in Zermatt. And there’s the art trip to Zurich,” Jane reminds her.
