“You’re not being punished,” he said kindly.

  She gave a weak smile, nodding gratefully. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”

  He gave a stern look, searching through her guarded gaze. “Are you sure? I’m not stupid, Annie. I could see what those boys were doing. Has Mr. Knightley bothered you before?”

  “Not really, no.”

  He wasn’t buying that. It was the truth. James hadn’t attacked her. Nor made her one of his victims. Yet, it doesn’t mean it granted her special treatment.

  “I’m telling the truth,” Annie insisted.

  “You don’t need to protect them, Annie. I will keep anything you tell me in confidence, I promise you.”

  “I appreciate it, Mr. Lyle, but I’m fine,” she said. Her gaze softened. “Really.”

  He considered her expression for a moment, scanning her features until he was sure that she was telling the truth. Sighing, he nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

  Mr. Lyle leaned back into his chair, folding his hands distractedly. He was pursing his lips. His mind was fixated on something. Annie shifted in her seat. She supposed that there was another question on his mind.

  “You’re a silent student, Annie.”

  “Not really. I just keep to myself.”

  “Students around here don’t make it easy for anyone outside their social circle. That I’m aware of,” he looked at her knowingly.

  She let out a weak laugh, tilting her head. Her cheeks flamed in self-consciousness. She didn’t really know what to say to that. Tucking a hair behind her ear, Annie fixed her gaze around his office. “I wish I was good at history.”

  Mr. Lyle followed her gaze. They were looking at his bookshelf, compiled with the textbooks he co-authored. All the way from Greek philosophy to British contemporary history, Annie’s mind never really stuck onto the lectures. She would find her mind drifting in the early years. It was probably a good thing that she hadn’t pursued it further.

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Mr. Lyle said. “There’s always one part of history that resonates with each individual. I suppose you never found the right one.”

  “Or teacher,” Annie murmured. She widened her eyes at the statement.

  She did not just say that.

  Mr. Lyle met her bewildered, bashful stare. “Annie -”

  “I meant -”

  “It’s fine, I know you had Mr. Darius before I arrived at the school. I’m aware he had an unorthodox way of teaching.”

  “Yeah, shouting and ridiculing the students,” Annie quipped.

  “Like I said; unorthodox,” he breathed.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  An awkward silence descended over the office. Annie tapped her foot under the table. Her stomach clenched in a series of uncomfortable knots, twisting and turning until she winced at the tingling flinches of pain. Anxiety and nerves always ate away at her confidence.

  “I used to be a scholarship student here too,” he blurted. “Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “At Barcourt?”

  “At Barcourt.”

  “And you survived?”

  He chuckled, a handsome expression taking over his tanned features. “I did. Want to know how?”

  “Please.”

  “I fought back,” he whispered almost conspiratorially.

  “Were you insane?”

  “Not especially,” he mused.

  “There’s absolutely no way I can -” Annie stopped mid-sentence, realising her error. She had practically admitted to Mr Lyle that she was being bullied. She inhaled deeply, pursing her lips. “I’m fine. I will be fine. It’s only two years.”

  “Two years is a long time, Annie.”

  “It’s already mid-September,” Annie grinned hopefully.

  “And you’ve already had a scuffle before your first class of the term. Is that a record?”

  “It wasn’t a scuffle.”

  “Mm-hmm,” he mused.

  Annie sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Look, I don’t have a lot of friends here,” she glanced at his humored expression. “But I’ve made it so far. Ignored but unscathed and that’s an achievement.”

  “For your sake, I hope so,” he said seriously.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the untimely passing of Natasha Fields.”

  The suicide.

  An icy chill ran down her spine. Memories flashed, triggering her anxiety. Natasha wasn’t her friend. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about her? Why was Natasha haunting her?

  Mr Lyle bent his head, gazing intently at Annie. “Annie? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she cleared her throat. “You were saying?”

  He hesitated for a moment, but continued. “I said that Natasha’s death is a tragedy. It shouldn’t have happened. But there’s another thing... I don’t wish to alarm you but... I would advise that you stay away from characters like James Knightley and Jasper Rashford.”

  “I don’t follow,” she frowned.

  “You know the boys harassed Miss Fields?”

  She bristled. She could lie. Pretend she didn’t understand. But something about Mr Lyle told her he had a built-in bullshit detector.

  “I’m aware of it,” she nodded.

  “Then you should know that my advice is only for your best interest. From one scholarship student to another,” he lifted his brow. His features had set into a hard line. There was no room to argue.

  Annie didn’t know what to say other than to nod obediently. She had never really spoken to Mr Lyle before, aside from the oddly handsome smile in the corridor. He had never taught her history, nor had he any real interaction with her. Therefore, the protective aura around him was confusing.

  “Hurry back to class,” he waved suddenly. “You don’t want to be late. I understand you’re taking music and English?”

  Again, how did he know that?

  “I-I...do. How did you know?”

  “After Natasha, I wanted to look out for another scholarship student. I was afraid of it happening again,” he said. “People like us don’t get an easy ride here, Annie. Natasha knew that too.”

  Annie’s eyes bulged.

  Did he just…

  Natasha?

  There was no way.

  “I think you’re confused, sir, Natasha wasn’t a scholarship student,” Annie clarified.

  Mr Lyle shook his head, a firm glint in his eyes. “I can assure you she was. Perhaps she was elusive to her friends, but her personal files show that she was a recipient of the same grant you have. Did... did you not know that?” He frowned. “I thought you knew.”

  “N-no, I didn’t. I thought... I thought she was just like them,” she mumbled.

  Natasha was a scholarship student?

  That made no sense. Yet, when Annie scanned Mr Lyle’s face, there was little reason to believe he was lying. He was telling the truth.

  What the...

  How did this information escape all of Barcourt? Natasha had set up a good life for herself at the school prior to her death. Best friends with the queen bees, blessed with good looks and a resident favourite of the teachers; Natasha Fields was part of the elite. The polar opposite to awkward, frumpy Annie.

  So why didn’t anyone figure her out from the start?

  But the Barons tortured her. Remember.

  Did they know she wasn’t one of them? Is that why they tormented her?

  Is that why James tormented her?

  Annie exhaled, letting out the tension building up in her stiff body. This shred of information quietly shook her world. Did that mean she was next? Were the Barons going after her?

  Noticing the grim look on Annie’s face, Mr Lyle cleared his throat, aiming to move on to a lighter topic. “Anyway, you’ll be fine. And if you run into any trouble -”

  “I’ll let you know,” she finished.

  He nodded, relatively satisfied with her answer - for now. “I better let you go. Do you need a teacher’s note? I don’t wish to make you late. I’d be happy to walk you to the tower, it’s quite a journey.”

  “Oh, no. That’s alright, thank you. I have Miss Richards for English. She’ll be fine.” Annie stood up from her chair, making her way to the door. “Thanks, Mr Lyle.”

  “Don’t mention it, Annie,” he smiled faintly, keeping his gaze on Annie. It was as though he was afraid something would happen to her, she thought. There was a brooding, unspoken tension lurking beneath those bright blue eyes. She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Closing the office door, she made her way out of the building towards the main tower and to her next class.

  It was time to get the show started.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She could do this.

  She wasn’t afraid.

  That was a lie, but she needed some motivation to push through that door. The lesson had started five minutes ago, and she knew Miss Richards wouldn’t mind the late entrance. She just needed to prepare herself. Facing the Barcourt students after the encounter with the Barons would leave her on the tongues of the idle gossipers; the weird scholarship kid just became the new target.

  It wasn’t official, but it was pretty much her death sentence.

  Sighing heavily, Annie shook her head. She opened the door, tentatively walking in, not looking at her new class. She kept her eyes fully focused on Miss Richards’ thin face.

  “Oh, Annie, you’re late,” she noted.

  “Sorry Miss Richards, I was with Mr Lyle. I can grab a note if you need it?”

  “It’s fine, Annie,” she shook her head. Turning to the class, she motioned to the right side of the room. “Take a seat. There’s a space over there next to Anchal or James.”

  Annie blanched at the statement. Did she say James?

  Following her line of vision, her gaze rested on the rows of desks aligned in the room. She felt the weight of the judgemental stares press on her face, instantly mocking Annie and her unwelcome appearance. Her reluctant gaze rested on the two empty seats in the class. One next to Anchal; the other next to the Devil.

  It was a straightforward decision.

  She moved her body - albeit unwillingly towards the window table, walking along the row of quiet stares.

  As Miss Richards continued her introduction of the subject, she felt James’ watchful gaze follow her body as it settled into the vacant seat right next to Anchal.

  Would she pay for that action?

  Anchal tensed. “Why are you sitting here?”

  “Why not?” Annie shrugged. She moved to grab her books out of her rucksack, pointedly ignoring the burn in the back of her neck. James was sitting two desks behind her, and it was probably the worst thing she could have done. But then again, what choice did she have?

  She looked at Annie, surveying her up and down.

  “You’re hiding, aren’t you?”

  “Hiding from what?”

  “Don’t think I don’t know. I heard about your brief encounter outside the assembly hall.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annie sighed. She kept her gaze straight to the front. If she pretended it never happened, then the rest of the school would follow suit. It was a fantasy, but it was all she had.

  “Why didn’t you sit with James?” She rested her hand onto her hand, watching Annie.

  “Why would I?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” She countered. Her voice dipped to a lower tone. “Any girl who has a set of hormones would be insane to pass by sitting next to him.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Annie lifted her eyebrow.

  She smiled widely. Annie bristled at the sight. The image of Anchal’s almost maniac smile reminded her of a Cheshire cat; a cat with a treasure chest of secrets ready to wreak havoc on Alice in her little wonderland.

  “Because he told me not to,” she grinned.

  Annie’s face paled.

  “What -”

  “Annie,” Miss Richards called out loudly. The girls jumped, whipping their gazes to the front. Miss Richards had a stern look on her face that was reserved for her most troublesome students. Annie just hadn’t realised that she would be on the receiving end of it.

  A few students to her right bore their stares right into her neck. She could see Verity and Theo muffle their giggles under their hand.

  What was so funny?

  “Yes, Miss Richards,” Annie replied.

  “Is there something you and Miss Bhavra wanted to share with the class?”

  Annie shook her head softly. She dug her fingers nervously into her sweaty palms. “No, Miss Richards.”

  “Then please don’t interrupt me again while I’m speaking, okay?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly, prompting Annie to nod quickly, ducking her head in bashful shame. Miss Richards averted her gaze, moving to her desk where there rested a pile of shiny, new books. “We’ll be focusing on Othello for the first term. Jealousy, passionate love and hubris; they will be the very themes that will dominate your first term in this classroom. Annie, can you hand out the books please while I take the registers?”

  She could only nod politely, moving out of her wooden desk to head to the front. Grabbing the hefty pile, she dropped a copy on each of the tables from the left-hand side of the room.

  One for Verity, one for Theo, one for Eliza, one for Olivia…

  Her heart was beating wildly as she maneuvered around each row. She was getting closer to the last row. Breathing heavily, she placed the copy on James’ desk, walking straight past him until she heard a sharp thud echo behind her. She turned around quickly. The book had fallen to the floor.

  “You dropped the book,” James said innocently.

  “I didn’t,” Annie countered. Her jaw set firmly, anger lightly simmered underneath her brown eyes. He knew that she wouldn’t just walk away. His smile crept up on his handsome face, the corners of his mouth twisting in a dimpled, devious smirk.

  “Pick it up.”

  No. Pick it up yourself, you entitled, selfish, smug, piece of shit. Please fuck off and die in a ditch somewhere.

  That was what Annie had wanted to say if she had money; if she had a name that carried weight around here.

  But ultimately, Annie needed to survive. That was her mantra. Even if it meant biting her tongue against the insufferable bastards that liked to torment her. Swallowing her pride was the price.

  James tilted his head, silent and brooding. He was planning something.

  Biting her cheek, Annie bent down to pick up the book, placed it back onto his desk and shuffled back to her seat. She allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing untoward had happened. She had given the book and survived; at least, that was what had happened.

  Anchal sighed. There was a stiff tension in her body, drawing Annie’s attention and concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Look, I’m not part of this,” Anchal whispered. “Don’t take it personally. Okay?”

  A tug at her gut nudged Annie’s warning system. “What -”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled dismissively. She leaned forward, burying her head in her book lazily. “Just shut up and leave me alone.”

  Annie ground her teeth together. What was Anchal’s problem?

  Everyone at his damned school had a penchant for treating everyone like shit.

  Shaking her head, Annie redirected her attention to her book, distractedly highlighting random key passages and quotes. Her mind was unfocused.

  “Miss Richards?” James called out.

  Annie stiffened. She kept her gaze focused on her book.

  “Yes, James?”

  “I didn’t receive a book,” he said calmly.

  Annie lifted her head in shock. What did he just say?

  Miss Richards frowned, looking at Annie. “How is that possible? Annie handed one to you.”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t give me one.”

  “I did,” Annie said incredulously. She raised her voice again. “I did, Miss Richards.”

  “I’m sure you did, Annie,” James said. Annie turned around, her confused gaze latched onto his firm stare. “But I didn’t receive one. Surely, there’s a spare copy.”

  Miss Richards nodded slowly, clearing her throat. “There will be some in the storage cupboard. Annie, can you grab that from down the hall? Here are the keys,” she handed Annie a pair of keys from her desk, moving to place them on her desk.

  There was no use in fighting. This was exactly what he wanted. A fight. A provocation. A fall to his level.

  Biting her tongue, Annie rose from her seat with the keys, moving towards the door.

  “Miss Richards, I’ll help her find that. I don’t think she knows where that is,” James mused cockily.

  Annie stared in contempt. “I can find it on my own, thank you.”

  It didn’t matter. He had reached her side, bowing his head in a mocking display of chivalry. “Ladies first.”

  “Mr Knightley, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Miss Richards crossed her arms.

  James didn’t seem deterred; he gave Miss Richards a bright smile, showcasing those treacherous dimples as he spoke. “I know, but I want to make sure I get my copy. Annie might forget on the way.”

  Annie clenched her fist.

  Another jab. Another provocation.

  If she hoped Miss Richards would fight her corner, she was sorely mistaken; Miss Richards lifted her mouth in a barely concealed smile, falling for his charms. She nodded, waving her arm dismissively. “Hurry up, both of you.”

  Her mouth dropped at the seamless audacity. James had already sauntered past her, walking out in the corridor, leaving Annie to follow slowly. She would stay two paces behind him.

  “Annie, Annie, Annie,” James sang softly. He hadn’t turned around to face her, continuing to walk ahead of her. A sinking feeling pinched at her stomach. Her fingers flexed in anxiety, stretching out to release the tension.

  “What do you want?”

  He turned his body around. His arrogant gaze traveled over her features, gazing. There was no trace of humour there. “What an apt question. Straight to the chase. I like that about you.”

  Annie remained still. She would not engage in a verbal sparring match with James; he was ready for that. Every game and battle was nothing to him when he had weapons as his arsenal. He took a step towards her, and another, and another, until he was less than a metre away. She hated the way he looked at her. Like some pathetic prey he wanted to squish under his shoe.