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small smile on her face. "Short of those with chronic problems like allergies and asthma, I don't think there's any other student I've seen here so often in such a short period of time."
"Thanks," I said, not really sure I wanted the honor. "So, no concussion?"
She shook her head. "No. You're going to have some pain, though. I'll give you something for that before you go." Her smile faded, and suddenly she looked nervous. "To be honest, Rose, I think most of the damage happened to, well, your face."
I shot up from the bed. "What do you mean 'most of the damage happened to my face'?"
She gestured to the mirror above the sink on the far side of the room. I ran over to it and looked at my reflection.
"Son of a bitch!"
Purplish red splotches covered the upper portion of the left side of my face, particularly near the eye. Desperately, I turned around to face her.
"This is going to go away soon, right? If I keep the ice on it?"
She shook her head again. "The ice can help...but I'm afraid you're going to have a wicked black eye. It'll probably be at its worst tomorrow but should clear up in a week or so. You'll be back to normal before long."
I left the clinic in a daze that had nothing to do with my head injury. Clear up in a week or so? How could Dr. Olendzki speak so lightly about this? Didn't she realize what was happening? I was going to look like a mutant for Christmas and most of the ski trip. I had a black eye. A freaking black eye.
And my mother had given it to me.
Chapter 7
Seven
I ANGRILY PUSHED THROUGH THE double doors that led into the Moroi dorm. Snow swirled in behind me, and a few people lingering on the main floor glanced up upon my entrance. Not surprisingly, several of them did double takes. Swallowing, I forced myself not to react. It would be okay. No need to freak out. Novices got injured all the time. It was actually rarer not to get injured. Admittedly, this was a more noticeable injury than most, but I could live with it until it healed, right? And it wasn't like anyone would know how I'd received it.
"Hey Rose, is it true your own mother punched you?"
I froze. I'd know that taunting soprano voice anywhere. Turning slowly, I looked into the deep blue eyes of Mia Rinaldi. Curly blond hair framed a face that might have been cute if not for the malicious smirk on it.
A year younger than us, Mia'd taken on Lissa (and me by default) in a war to see who could tear apart the other's life most quickly - a war, I should add, that she started. It had involved her stealing Lissa's ex-boyfriend - despite the fact Lissa had decided in the end she didn't want him - and the spreading of all sorts of rumors.
Admittedly, Mia's hatred hadn't been entirely unjustified. Lissa's older brother, Andre - who had been killed in the same car accident that technically "killed" me - had used Mia pretty badly when she was a freshman. If she weren't such a bitch now, I would have felt sorry for her. It had been wrong of him, and while I could understand her anger, I don't know that it was fair of her to take that out on Lissa in the way she did.
Lissa and I had technically won the war in the end, but Mia had inexplicably bounced back. She didn't run with the same elite that she once had, but she had rebuilt a small contingent of friends. Malicious or not, strong leaders always attract followers.
I'd found that about 90 percent of the time, the most effective response was to ignore her. But we had just crossed over to the other 10 percent, because it's impossible to ignore someone announcing to the world that your mother just punched you - even if it was true. I stopped walking and turned around. Mia stood near a vending machine, knowing she'd drawn me out. I didn't bother asking how she'd found out about my mother giving me the black eye. Things rarely stayed secret around here.
When she caught full sight of my face, her eyes widened in unabashed delight. "Wow. Talk about a face only a mother could love."
Ha. Cute. From anyone else, I would have applauded the joke.
"Well, you're the expert on face injury," I said.