Where the Drowned Girls Go(Wayward Children #7)(15)

“Cora,” said the matron, through gritted teeth, “I don’t believe I was talking to you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, matron.” Cora blinked at her, trying to look innocent and confused. “I thought it was a question for anyone. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” said the matron, and moved on to the girl without a name. “You’ll be measured this afternoon,” and she said a word, her lips moved in a word, but all that came out was the sound of total, perfect silence. “I’m hoping we’ll see some growth, aren’t you?”

“Yes, matron,” said the dainty girl, voice small and tight with fear.

“If we don’t, we may have to take more extreme measures.” The matron looked around the room, seeming to weigh and measure every inch of it with her eyes. Finally, she sniffed and said, “There will be an assembly this afternoon, to discuss the unfortunate outburst during morning announcements. If any of you are feeling shaky or uncentered, you can request a counseling session after lunch. There’s no shame in seeking help, children. Seeking help is the most human thing a person can do.”

“Yes, matron,” chorused the girls, in unison—even Cora, who felt pride and shame warring in the center of her chest as she spoke, burning her with their fierceness.

“Breakfast will proceed as normal,” said the matron, and left the room.

All five girls stood perfectly still and stayed perfectly silent for a count of ten. Sometimes the matrons would close the door, take a breath, and then come back in to catch the girls doing something they weren’t supposed to. Seconds ticked by, and the matron did not reappear.

Emily burst into tears.

She cried noisily, messily, with the glorious abandon of a small child racing headlong toward something they weren’t supposed to touch. It was the most untidy thing Cora had seen her do so far, and for a moment she stopped and stared at her, even as Rowena and Stephanie rushed to try and calm her down. It didn’t work: Emily kept crying, eyes screwed up so tight that they seemed almost like they’d been painted on, black slashes against the dark chestnut brown of her skin.

“Make her stop,” snapped the dainty girl, emerging from her own fugue of shock and dismay.

Cora turned slowly to look at the dainty girl without a name, eyes narrowing. She was doing her best to follow the rules and fit in here. The school was cold and gray and sometimes terrifying, but she had come of her own accord, and that made anything she suffered here her own fault. It was a door she should perhaps have left closed, and would have, if not for the Drowned Gods dripping poison in her dreams. If opening this door let her close that door, then she was happy to have it open. She didn’t need to be a mermaid anymore. She didn’t need to be a hero.

But that didn’t mean she could abide a bully.

Cora stepped in front of the dainty girl, keeping her from reaching Emily. “If she needs to cry, she’ll cry,” she said. “Leave her alone.”

“I’ll tell the matrons,” said the girl, voice shrill and mean. Cora shrugged and started to turn away. The girl spat, “Whale.”

Cora stiffened and turned back. “What did you call me?”

“Whale,” repeated the girl, eyes on Cora’s own. “Fatty. Stupid pig. Emily’s not your friend. No one is. You’re too disgusting to have friends.”

Cora took a breath, preparing her rebuttal, tears threaten ing to overwhelm her. The dainty, nameless girl was right: Cora had no friends here. Her friends at Eleanor’s school had been incidental, accidents of place and time, and they were far away, and she was never going to see them again. She’d given them up for the chance of freedom. She was as worthless as this girl wanted her to be.

Before she could speak, the door opened again, and the matron reappeared. This was off schedule, and strange; all five of them turned.

Standing next to the matron in the doorway was a short, plumpish girl of Japanese descent, her long black hair tamed into a braid that fell down her back in a single inkslash line. She was wearing a Whitethorn uniform, hands folded demurely in front of herself and eyes cast toward the floor.

“This is Sumiko,” said the matron. “She will be taking your open bed. I trust you will all welcome her into our company.”

“Hello,” said the girl, raising her head and smiling a small, sharp-edged smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

Cora, who had never been expecting to see Sumi again, could only stare in frozen silence as the matron pushed her and her suitcase into the room, then turned and closed the door, leaving the six girls alone.





8?OATMEAL AND OPPOSITION


AS SOON AS THE matron was gone, the other girls swarmed—the dainty, nameless one at the front of the pack. She raked her eyes up and down Sumi’s uniformed body, then sniffed.

“I don’t see why we should get saddled with another new fish,” she said. “We’re still not finished educating the old one.”

“Don’t be mean,” said Emily.

“Why shouldn’t she?” asked Sumi, with what sounded like genuine confusion. “I can tell by the sound of her voice that she’s good at it.”

The others turned to stare at her. Cora sighed.

“Sumi, why are you here?”

“Antsy can find anything,” said Sumi. “She told you so, remember? Well, you went away, and so she knew what she needed to find was you. And when she did, we all talked it over and decided I should be the one to come and get you, since I’m the only one who knows I get to go home when all this is over.”