All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(34)

I was about to apologize for having said something so daft when an orange plastic cafeteria tray hit Mouse in the back of the head. A bit of oatmeal spattered on to her hair and face.

‘Watch yourself, Mouse,’ said the girl holding the tray. The sarcastic voice belonged to a tall, rather striking (in both senses of the word) girl with long, straight, black hair. She was flanked by a corpulent blonde and a petite but sturdy girl with a shaved head. Shaved Head had a series of tattoos where her hair should have been. The tattoos consisted of words in an almost mesmerizing, swirling, paisley design.

‘What are you looking at?’ Shaved Head asked.

Your amazing tattoos, I wanted to say, but I decided against it.

(Aside: Seriously, though, you can’t tattoo words on your scalp without having the reasonable expectation that someone might try to read them.)

‘What’s wrong, Little Mousey? Cat got your tongue?’ asked the one holding the tray.

The blonde replied, ‘She can’t hear you anyway, Rinko. She’s, like, deaf.’

‘No, she can’t talk. There’s a difference, Clover. Don’t be ignorant,’ said Rinko. She leaned over so that she was up against Mouse’s cheek. ‘She hears every little thing we say. You could talk if you wanted to, couldn’t you?’

Mouse, of course, said nothing.

‘Aw, I was trying to see if I could fool you,’ Rinko continued. ‘There ain’t a damn thing wrong with that tongue of yours. But you’re just sitting back, aren’t you? Judging all of us, thinking you’re better when you’re really the lowest of the low.’

‘Baby murderer,’ hissed the tattooed one.

Mouse didn’t move.

‘Aren’t you gonna write me a love note?’ Rinko said, pulling the pad that hung around Mouse’s neck.

‘Hey!’ I yelled. The group looked at me for the first time. I switched to a more humorous tone and said, ‘How can she write you a note when you’re holding her notebook?’

‘Look, Mouse made a pretty new friend,’ Rinko said. She studied my face. ‘Hey, I know you. You should come sit with us.’

‘I’m fine where I am, thanks,’ I said.

Rinko shook her head. ‘Listen, you don’t know how it works around here yet so I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. Mouse ain’t your friend, and you’re gonna need friends around here.’

‘I’ll take my chances,’ I said.

Clover, the blonde, lunged towards me. Rinko waved her hand, and Clover obeyed. ‘Leave her,’ Rinko demanded. ‘You and me are gonna be great friends,’ she said to me. ‘You just don’t know it yet.’

After Rinko and company were out of earshot, Mouse wrote me a note: Don’t be stupid. You don’t owe me anything.

‘True,’ I said. ‘But I don’t like bullies.’

Mouse nodded.

‘You know, even though you’re small, you should still try to defend yourself. Those kinds of people prey on people that they perceive to be weak.’

Her eyes told me I wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

‘Why do you put up with it then?’

She considered my question for a second then wrote Because I deserve it.

Liberty had classes during the week, but Saturday was visiting day. Though I had several visitors that Saturday, the rule was that you could only see one person at a time.

The first person was Simon Green. I asked him how Mr Kipling was faring, to which he replied, ‘He’s stable.’ Apparently, Mr Kipling was still on a ventilator and unavailable for consultation. ‘Unfortunately,’ Simon Green added.

And it was unfortunate. Though I was worried for Mr Kipling, I was equally worried for myself and my family.

‘Per your instructions, I made all the calls, Anya,’ Simon Green said. ‘Everything is arranged. Ms Goodfellow agreed to stay. Ms Barber will take your sister to and from school. Your brother, for the moment, is not taking the job at the Pool. I also spoke to your grandmother . . .’ Simon Green’s voice trailed off. ‘Her mind seems to be . . .’

‘Going,’ I finished.

‘You’re the one running the show, aren’t you?’ Simon Green asked.

‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘And that’s why I never would have poisoned Gable Arsley. I couldn’t afford to take such a risk.’

‘Let’s talk about Mr Arsley for a moment,’ Simon Green said. ‘Do you have any theories as to how the poison got in the chocolate?’

‘Yes. Jacks Pirozhki delivered the box to my house. I believe the chocolate was intended for my immediate family. Gable got in the way.’

‘I know Jacks Pirozhki. He’s a nobody, a nonentity in the Balanchine organization. He’s considered good-natured and essentially benign,’ Simon Green replied. ‘Why would he want to poison you and your siblings?’

I told him how Pirozhki had been hanging around my brother for weeks and how he had been the one to set up Leo with the job at the Pool. ‘Maybe he thought murdering the children of Leonyd Balanchine would be some sort of symbolic gesture? Raise his profile among Daddy’s enemies.’

Simon Green considered this, then shook his head. ‘Doubtful. But his behaviour’s still very suspicious and I’ll definitely have a word with Mr Pirozhki. Would you like to hear the case the State has against you?’