Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,47
the darkness.
I’d sigh with relief at seeing it if Dr. McKee weren’t standing on the front steps, her arms folded over her chest.
“Bollocks,” Flora mutters on one side of me, and I nod.
“The bollocks-iest.”
I’m tired and wet and cold and not really in the mood to try to explain this whole escapade to Dr. McKee.
But when we pile out of the car, she simply says, “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” and then turns to walk back into the school.
I look at Flora, who just heaves a sigh before saying, “Well, we’ll worry about that later, shall we? I’m off for a shower. I may never get the smell of river water out of my hair.”
But the summons to Dr. McKee’s office doesn’t come the next morning. Or the morning after that. It’s not until everyone is back from the Challenge and I’ve finally started to relax, thinking I might not get called on the carpet for this after all, that Dr. Flyte stops me from coming into my history class and tells me Dr. McKee wants to see me.
And so once again, I find myself sitting next to Flora in front of the headmistress.
This time, we actually get to meet in her office instead of the chapel, and even though Flora was sure her mom would turn up again, there’s no royal entourage.
Just us.
And Dr. McKee.
Sitting behind her desk, she watches us with a slight frown. “Ladies,” she begins, then breaks off again, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not even sure how to approach all of this since the stories I’ve gotten from Miss Worthington and Miss Graham were somewhat confusing and involved a stag?”
Flora nods. “Yes, we were attacked by a stag, and that’s how we lost all our things. It was very traumatic. Wasn’t it, Quint?”
For all that I had said I wasn’t going along with Flora’s stupid plan, I find myself nodding. “A stag. Trauma,” I say, and Dr. McKee sighs.
“Miss Quint,” she says, fixing me with a look. “You wouldn’t be lying for the princess, would you?”
How does she know? Is she psychic, or am I just a terrible liar?
But then Dr. McKee begins shuffling papers on her desk and says, “Because Miss Baird’s friend, Miss McPherson, insists that Miss Baird told her two weeks ago that she did not plan on staying at Gregorstoun through the autumn and that she had a new plan to get herself sent home. Is that true?”
In the chair next to me, Flora doesn’t move, but I feel myself practically creaking as I stiffen up.
“I don’t. There wasn’t. I can’t . . . plan,” I manage to get out, and Dr. McKee frowns even deeper, the bridge of her nose wrinkling.
“Miss Quint,” she says, and then Flora sits up, clearing her throat.
“Actually, Caroline was telling the truth, Dr. McKee. It was irresponsible and reckless and selfish, and Millie had no idea what I was up to until it was too late. I asked her to lie for me, and threatened her with expulsion if she didn’t.”
That last part is not even remotely true, and I gape at Flora. Did our few hours all wet and cold break her?
Or is she actually kind of a decent person under all of that bitchiness?
Dr. McKee just stares at Flora, her hands still folded on her desk. When she finds her voice again, it’s to ask, “Do you hate it here so much, Miss Baird?”
Flora swallows, and fidgets a little in her chair before answering. “I thought I did,” she says. “But it’s . . . not so bad. Those girls who came to help us, Sakshi and Elisabeth. They were . . . nice.” She rolls her shoulders, uncomfortable. “And Millie—Miss Quint—has been nice to me even though I don’t really deserve it. So. I don’t know.”
She schools her face into that bored expression I’ve seen so many times. “Maybe there’s something to be said for this whole ‘sisterhood’ thing.”
“Might have been more effective without the air quotes, but thank you, Miss Baird,” Dr. McKee says.
Then she looks back and forth between us. She’s not all that old, Dr. McKee, I realize. Probably only in her thirties. Maybe she has a brother who went here, or a boyfriend or something. Maybe getting to come to Gregorstoun was her dream, too.
I’m actually feeling a little warm and fuzzy toward Dr. McKee when she says, “Laundry duty for both of you for the next four weeks.”