by Sofia Daniel
Cormac shook his head. “Finish it.”
My brows drew together. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t draw it out. If I don’t hear the end, I’ll go mad with not knowing.”
“Alright.” Clearing my throat, I broke away from him and read out the next part.
Something inside me died the day storm clouds eclipsed the sun. A constant and relentless rain caused blight to spread through my body. The Bitch was right. I’m a waste of a life, a shambling disgrace, and I should just kill myself.
Maybe if I died, the sun will come out. Perhaps once I’ve gone, the sun will remember how it used to reflect its gentle light on my petals. Maybe.
After reading the last word, a noisy gasp ripped from Cormac’s throat that jerked his upper body forward. He slid off the edge of the mattress onto his knees. “She really did it.”
“Cormac.” The words died in my throat. What could I say after ripping open a partially healed wound? Sorry just wasn’t enough. “This wasn’t your fault.”
His shoulders shook with silent sobs, and I placed the papers on the mattress and knelt at his side. I cradled him to my chest and let him cry.
“We all let her down,” he rasped.
I hugged him tighter. From Corrine’s diary entries, Mrs. Benazir and Miss Claymore had let Corrine down by not offering her any support that didn’t consist of reminders that her grades were slipping.
Over the fourth and fifth years, Prakash had tried to prove his love to her, only for Corrine to twist their final encounter into an accusation of rape. I didn’t want to think ill of the dead, so I pushed aside my judgment on her twisted act. But it was no wonder Prakash no longer wanted to associate with Corrine.
“Didn’t you read what she said?” I stroked Cormac’s hair. “You were the only person at her side during the fallout. She loved you so much and knew you’d done everything you could to help her.”
“She’s at peace now, I suppose.” He gazed up and sniffled at me through watery eyes.
As I nodded, two fat tears rolled down my cheeks. “Right now, I’ll bet she’s looking down at you, proud of what you’ve become.”
“Do you think so?”
My voice was choked with tears, and I forced out the words, “Yes. No one in this academy works so hard and so selflessly to protect others.”
“But I could do more. I—”
“Stop being so hard on yourself.” I gave his shoulder a hard squeeze. “You’re a student, just like everyone else, but you still work harder than the teachers to protect others.”
Cormac didn’t reply.
“On top of that, you’re upholding the grade averages that keep the academy at the top of the Elite Register. Mrs. Benazir’s the one who needs to do more.”
“Thanks.” He stood. After pulling me to my feet, he stared at a point on his threadbare rug. “I haven’t been frank with you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I translated the diary intending to hand it to the police and prove that Kashaayah killed my sister and staged it as a suicide.”
My response was a grim nod. I’d worked that out ages ago and accepted his help because my faith in Prakash’s innocence had been unshakable.
“But he’s innocent,” Cormac said. “You can give the decoded diary to the police. It’s a long suicide note that charts what brought her to the final decision to kill herself.”
My mouth fell open. I would have asked if he was sure, but we needed this vital piece of evidence, and I wasn’t about to change his mind. Instead, I threw my arms around Cormac. “Thank you.”
“That doesn’t mean I forgive him for pigging my sister,” he muttered into the side of my neck.
“I understand.”
Cormac gave me a brief pat on the back, his way of saying the hug was over. As I drew back, he wrapped his hand around my bicep. “Be careful. He didn’t kill my sister, but I still don’t trust any of those wankers to do right by you.”
“I will.”
We stood in silence on his rug for several moments. Leopold and Sebastian were waiting for me several doors down, anxious to discover the contents of Corrine’s diary. Maybe finally knowing why Corrine had committed suicide would give Cormac the closure he needed to heal. I gazed up into his watery eyes and gave him what I hoped was a sympathetic smile.
Cormac dipped his head and gave me a sheepish smile in return. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Anything.” I wrapped my arms around his thin bicep.
“I’m getting married at the end of term, and I need a best man.”
Rearing back, I asked, “T-to Geraldine?”
“We’ve got the registry office booked in Gretna Green.”
My insides twisted into knots. Bianca had already confirmed that Geraldine had paid Ashley ten-thousand pounds to win that disgusting bet. To me, it was proof that Geraldine had misused Cormac’s contribution to the honeymoon and intended for his pigging to take place on the day of the supposed wedding.
A lump formed in my throat. If I brought up my suspicions about Geraldine on the heels of reading out Corrine’s last words, I might break Cormac’s spirit. But if I stayed silent, he might follow his sister into death.
“Cormac, I—”
He placed his fingers over my lips. “I know what you’re going to say, but trust me. Geraldine won’t break my heart.”
Chapter 19
Sebastian passed the original diary, plus the software, and the subsequent translations to Mr. Pinkerton and waited. The authorities continued to turn down our requests to visit Prakash, and we couldn’t even send him letters of support.
After a week of not hearing any good news from the lawyer, the three of us began to lose hope. Over the final weeks of the school year, I threw myself into my studies, mostly for the six-thousand-pound bonus Mrs. Benazir had agreed to pay me in our contract. Miss Claymore kept her distance and didn’t call Sebastian out during English class, although she would occasionally cast glances at the royal table during mealtimes.
Without Bianca around, Geraldine took up the reins as the sole Queen of Brittas Academy with a newly popular Barrett as her knight in shining armor. None of us could give a damn when our fourth still festered in a juvenile detention center.
One morning at breakfast, Mr. Blunt led four police officers into the dining room. He looked in our direction and murmured something to the sergeant. Leopold and Sebastian stood, and I scrambled to my feet.
“This has to be about Kash,” I whispered.
Sebastian wrapped a hand around my wrist. “Or Ashley told them a pack of lies that implicated you in the poisonings.”
Panic speared through my heart, pumping blood to my trembling extremities.
“Whatever she says, they’ll eventually discount it as lies,” said Leopold.
My insides churned with trepidation. Sometimes, the truth never came out or at least took its time. If the justice system worked as it should, Prakash would be sitting with us at the royal table and not awaiting trial in an institution for young criminals.
A hush fell across the dining room, filled by the occasional whisper. My pulse jumped in my throat like a pair of twin frogs, each desperate to escape for freedom.
The quartet of officers advanced toward us through the maze of occupied tables. A sea of students in bottle-green uniforms twisted in their seats to get a better look.
Miss Claymore swept down from the high table and stood in the police officers’ path. “May I help you?” she asked in a haughty voice. “Law enforcers are to make their appointments with the headmistress.”
I recognized one of the officers. That thick-headed asshole who had interviewed me after Bianca’s fall from the east wing.
He turned to me, brows rising in recognition, and my legs nearly collapsed under the weight of his stare. Next to him was WPC Dobson, the policewoman who had been there for my forensic exam. Her kind smile did nothing to reassure me that I would survive the ordeal of prison with my mi
nd intact.
Officer Asshole brushed Miss Claymore aside and continued toward the royal table. Beside me, Sebastian breathed hard. If fear hadn’t frozen my limbs, I would have reached out to give him comfort, but it was hard enough to stay upright.
As the police approached, sweat beaded on my brow, and painful spasms squeezed my heart. My breath froze. What the fuck had Ashley told them? I couldn’t think of a single thing I had done to warrant four officers.
Officer Asshole’s gaze turned to a point behind our table, and the police passed. My muscles became limp, and all the air left my lungs in a single breath.
The police stopped at the royal pretenders. “Barrett Riley, you are under arrest for sexual assault and for possession with intent to supply.”
Outraged shouts filled the dining room, and some of the younger students burst into tears. I clenched the back of my chair. Ever since his outburst, people had treated Barrett like a brave hero who had triumphed over personal tragedy. They had forgotten what he and his group of knights had done to earn Ashley’s wrath.
A boy from the football team shot out of his seat. “What the fuck is this? His twin and best friend just got killed!”
Sebastian wrapped an arm around my middle and guided me to my seat. “Ashley must have given her statement about the pigging.”
Leopold placed a comforting arm on my shoulder. “With any luck, there’s a group of officers doing the same at Byrd and Byrd.”
Nodding, I stared down at my plate of half-eaten eggs Benedict. Congealed yolk spread over the white porcelain, putting me off from continuing my breakfast.
I didn’t dare raise my head to see Barrett’s expression. If Ashley had reported them when she’d had the chance, she would have gotten justice. Now, the courts would treat her worse than they would treat Barrett.
“She’s a lying bitch,” he yelled. “I didn’t touch anyone!”
Barrett’s shouts of protest as they slapped handcuffs around his wrists and walked him out of the dining room turned into screams that made my blood curdle.
Leopold’s hand slid down my arm. He leaned close and murmured, “If you’re feeling bad for him, don’t. I saw what they did to Ashley. It was foul. Grotesque. I would have torn out their livers if that happened to me.”
My throat closed up, and I chewed my lip. Dealing with the police could be frustrating, heart-breaking, and tiresome, but murdering people wasn’t the answer.
On the last Friday morning of the term, Mr. Blunt interrupted our English class to tell us that we had a visitor. Pursing her lips with annoyance, Miss Claymore let us go, and we followed the caretaker to the meeting room.
When we opened the door, we found Mr. Pinkerton sitting in his usual seat, wearing the usual black suit. A male assistant sat on his right behind a stack of files. Leopold wrapped his hand around mine as we entered.
“Any news?” asked Sebastian.
“The Crown Prosecution Service has set Prakash’s court date for Friday.” He turned to his assistant. “I brought Rupert along because he’s been checking the translations on the diary you handed in.”
I swallowed hard. “It proves that she killed herself. The last entry is all about how she was a burden to her brother and wanted to die.”
Mr. Pinkerton grimaced. “If it had been written in plain English and Corrine had referred to people by name instead of cryptic codes, it might have been admissible.”
Rupert, the assistant added, “I focussed on the last few entries and used your system to turn the numbers into letters, but it was near impossible to make sense of anything.”
“But we translated it!” My heart pounded in my chest. “Corrine was a genius. We cracked her code. Isn’t that enough?”
Mr. Pinkerton shook his head. “I’m not saying it won’t be helpful in a court of law—”
“This case can’t go to trial,” said Sebastian. “Kash didn’t kill Corrine.”
Mr. Pinkerton leaned back in his seat. “The CPS has no faith in Mr. Kashaayah’s alibi for the day she died.”
“We were in the hideout,” Leopold said.
“That’s the point,” said the lawyer. “A treehouse hidden to the world. There is no CCTV anywhere on that stretch of road to corroborate your whereabouts, no mobile phone records to prove your location, and no witnesses other than Mr. Kashaayah’s closest friends.”
I shook my head. The Crown Prosecution Service was bullshit. Using that logic, a husband sleeping with his wife at night didn’t count as an alibi because she was his closest companion, and there wasn’t an impartial enough third party standing over the bed to confirm his location.
“And there’s another thing,” added Mr. Pinkerton.
I held my breath and clenched my teeth. Leopold’s hand squeezed mine, and Sebastian looked like he was going to be sick.
“The day after Miss Evergreen was abducted and dumped in the cave, the police made a more thorough search of the surroundings. They found items that belonged to Mr. Kashaayah.”
“Like what?” Sebastian groaned.
“A mobile phone, Kashaayah-branded teabags, and pens with his fingerprints.”
“How do they know it didn’t fall out of my pocket?” I blurted.
Mr. Pinkerton fixed me with an incredulous look. “Did Mr. Kashaayah lend you these items?”
“I had tea in his room all the time and sat next to him in classes. But Corrine was also in love with him, and they’d had a relationship. She might have chosen to die with those items around her.”
“Like a shrine to their love,” said Leopold.
Sebastian frowned but didn’t speak. I hoped he wasn’t losing faith with Prakash. The legal fees had to be mounting high, and neither Leopold nor I had the means to pay Mr. Pinkerton if Sebastian decided to give up.
“Can’t the Crown Prosecution Service translate the diary themselves?” I asked.
“It’s doubtful, especially since they’re looking to secure Mr. Kashaayah’s conviction for murder.”
Leopold slammed a fist on the table, making everyone jump. “I don’t get why they suddenly think Corrine was murdered, and Kash was the killer.”
Mr. Pinkerton turned his gaze to me. “It’s because of you, Miss Evergreen.”
Mouth gaping open, I reared back. “But…” My next word was a croak because I hadn’t told the police anything incriminating about Prakash. “What?”
“Everything that happened to you mirrors what happened to Corrine.”
My mouth opened and closed. Hadn’t Cormac said something similar last term? So much had happened since then that I’d forgotten the day he’d told me the police had reopened Corrine’s case.
“What are you saying?” asked Leopold. “That Kash wanted to kill Willow? He’s crazy about her.”
“Whoever attacked you on all those occasions you reported to the police mirrored Corrine’s death,” said Rupert. “There’s a scene in the diary where some girls pushed her down the stairs. It’s exactly what you reported to the police.”
Mr. Pinkerton’s eyes softened. “The CPS believe you’re the victim of a copycat.”
“Then they should arrest the girls, not an innocent boy who has done nothing to hurt me!”
The lawyer shrugged. “One of my assistants pieced together all the evidence we could gather to implicate Bianca Byrd. It was enough for the police to visit her hospital bed, but they also believe that whoever murdered Corrine also attacked her.”
The rest of the conversation went round in circles. Mr. Pinkerton wanted to contact Prakash’s parents for the trial, but Sebastian refused because they would disinherit Prakash whether he was found guilty or innocent. I shook my head. To me, the evidence proving that Prakash was the murderer was flimsy and circumstantial, but I knew nothing about the law outside the shows I’d watched with Mom.
A sigh slid from my lips. I’d thought that by now, Uncle Trevor or Aunt Hortense would have called to ask why I had allowed Ashley to get arrested, but they were either too busy or too ang
ry about her predicament. I turned back to the conversation.
“Alright then,” said Leopold. “What time’s the trial?”
Rupert cleared his throat. “Youth courts don’t allow the general public.”
“What?” snarled Sebastian.
Mr. Pinkerton’s assistant shrank. “You’ll have to wait until after Mr. Kashaayah’s sentencing to be eligible for a visit.” He gulped. “Or he might be acquitted.”
Without a word, Leopold stormed out of the meeting and slammed the door. I jumped at the sound and clutched my chest, as though to stop my heart from flopping lifelessly onto the table. Neither lawyer seemed to think Prakash had a chance, and there wasn’t a thing we could do to help him.
“Perhaps now’s a good time to break. Is there anything you can add to help Mr. Kashaayah’s case?”
“Corrine’s twin brother thinks he’s innocent,” I said.
The lawyer’s gray eyebrows rose. “Will he be willing to submit a character reference to that effect?”
My shoulders slumped. While Cormac knew Prakash didn’t tie a noose around his sister’s neck, he also knew that her spiraling into depression was a direct result of the pull-a-pig game.
A lump formed in my throat, and I gulped. “It’s doubtful.”
“No matter.” He gave me a bracing smile. “We’ll do our best to refute the Crown’s evidence against Mr. Kashaayah. In the meantime, keep him in your prayers.”
Rupert and Mr. Pinkerton gathered their folders and left the room. Sebastian helped me to my feet, and we walked in silence through the empty hallway. Parquet floors stretched out for what felt like an eternity, with white walls looming closer, seeming to close us in. I exhaled a long, shuddering breath. If I felt like this, I couldn’t imagine the extent of Prakash’s torment.
Leopold joined us at the stairwell and followed us in silence. I glanced at him over my shoulder, but he stared down at his feet. I turned back and focused on the climb. It wasn’t like I could say everything would be alright, because right now, things looked hopeless.