My voice shook. “Be respectful.”

“Yes. And as it turns out, you can’t even follow one simple rule. You had your chance to be good, but you chose degeneracy instead. I’m terribly sorry. I don’t think I can help you. You’re too far gone.” Then, to my horror, she raised a small syringe and plunged it into my upper arm.

All of my sharpness, my bravery, my plans . . . they began to melt away as I felt the medication spread through my body like tingling heat.

My legs went numb, my arms weak.

She leaned closer. “I want you to know that Agatha’s going to pay for helping you. She’s going to be punished. Now you have to die with that on your conscience. You’ve caused a lot of suffering that could have been avoided.”

“Leave her alone,” I whispered.

She stared me down, her eyes as sharp as jagged steel. “A child is led to righteousness by the lantern of his parents’ steadfastness and must by firm hands be molded. Firm hands. When Agatha is capable of behaving herself in a way that befits her birthright, then she can be ‘left alone.’ Until then, I will personally direct her behavior in order to minimize the damage to herself and to our family.”

“You’re going to kill her,” I said. “She almost choked the other night.”

“If she has the will to live,” Laura said icily, “she’ll live.”

I stared at her in horror. What kind of mother was this? Whatever kindness or gentleness may have existed in Laura had been hardened by time into the beastly woman she was now. More worried about her family’s past and reputation than their well-being.

I stared into her eyes and imagined that I could see her soul, a putrid, rotting swamp of anger and pride. But everything was starting to get glowy and soft.

“Come, Margot,” she said sweetly. “Let’s take a walk.”

I hesitated too long, and she gave me a push that made me stumble on the uneven ground. We walked along the thin strip of wet dirt bordering the pond. If I slowed, she pulled my arm, and my body moved again as if I was remote-controlled.

The sun wasn’t quite up yet. The early-morning air was soft and dim. Laura had taken the time to put on a preppy rust-colored jacket, but I had nothing on over my pajama top, and I began to shiver. The shivering grew stronger and stronger, until my teeth chattered.

“Common side effect,” Laura said. “You’re going to get pretty itchy, too. I don’t use it for Agatha—can’t have her scratching her skin to bits. But you can go ahead and scratch. It doesn’t matter now.”