“No? Watch me.” She pulls out a wad of paper towels and dabs them on my cheeks. “I don’t want you to spend another second worrying about this, okay? You’re with me, and I’ve got you, and I’m telling you I’m not going to let this happen. Do you trust me?”

“I … of course I do, but—”

“I’ve got you,” she repeats, and this time I nod.

“What are you gonna do?” I ask her, sniffling and rubbing my eyes. I look like a hot mess. I go to the sink to splash some water on my face.

“Whatever I must.”

I pause and lift my head to catch her eye in the mirror. She looks back at me, and there’s a determined grit in her expression that, just for one second, sends a chill across my shoulders and down my back.

Now, I’m pretty sure, I believe her.

FORTY-ONE ROSE

My walk to the headmaster’s office is fueled by pure fury.

When I reach it, I rap hard on the door and throw myself into the nearest seat. The outside of the office has been converted into a small waiting area decorated with old staff portraits, chairs, and ornate end tables covered in copies of the school magazine. I resist the urge to kick the furniture.

As soon as the headmaster opens the door I’m on my feet. “This is discrimination,” I say, folding my arms. “And you know it.”

He sighs. “Come inside, Rose.”

I continue speaking as he ushers me through the door. “Me. Eleanor. Molly. Harriet. Amsterdam. International news. Drugs, alcohol. Someone died. You didn’t expel us. You never even threatened to.”

The headmaster lowers himself into his chair wearily. I haven’t noticed how slowly he moves before.

“Rose,” he says. “You four have history at this school. You have ties here. I know your families, your siblings, how you were raised. You had all proven yourselves to me long before your mistake. Danni’s circumstances are very different. She’s a new student. She has no record of good behavior to fall back on. I can’t justify keeping her here and denying another, more worthy student the chance to attend.”

“So your argument is you’re expelling her because she’s a scholarship student,” I say. “That’s also discrimination.”

“Rose, the school has a strict zero-tolerance policy toward alcohol.”

“Yes. One that seems like it only matters when it’s convenient. Would you like to have a look through a few students’ social media accounts at random, sir? I have access to some awfully good ones. I’m not sure you’ll have many pupils left once you’re done enforcing this no-tolerance policy of yours.”

We stare each other down. I have the feeling the headmaster expects me to apologize. I do not.