Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
The lively discussion comes to an abrupt halt as Jane sweeps the door open suddenly. All three of them freeze in place like misbehaving does caught in headlights. Miss Strict looks down at the little collective with a truly stern, and to their shocked and guilty gazes, frightening expression. Even Storm, who is getting used to being in trouble with her, feels a fresh bolt of panic.
They were all crouched somewhat while having their discussion, and they still are. That makes Jane look taller than before, her elegant features held in a perfect mask of feminine displeasure. Storm feels herself shrink away as Jane’s hazel gaze makes harsh contact with her. If she could melt into the floor, she would.
In this moment, Jane appears to be the very embodiment of discipline, a beautiful manifestation of pure feminine power, and Storm cannot drag her eyes away from her. The sight is as terrifying as it is awesome.
Jane’s gaze runs across all of them in turn before she names them in crisp, clipped tones. “Storm, Penelope, Melissa. The three of you will see me after class today. Three pm sharp. Now go back to class. If I catch you lurking or otherwise misbehaving again, you will spend the rest of the day being punished.”
She shuts the door again firmly, leaving the girls to scatter.
“Oh my god! I’ve never been in trouble before! How did she even know my name!?” Melissa is immediately near tears as they all rush away.
“Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt that much, remember?” Penners snarks at her.
“See you guys at three, I guess.”
Storm grimly takes her leave of the other two, knowing she should have known better, and wishing very much that she had. She’d promised herself that this week would be better, that she’d get through the whole thing without a single punishment of any kind, and yet somehow, she is already in trouble.
“Unbefuckinglievable,” she mutters to herself as she scoots out the back door of the school, skirts the gardens around to a thicket of bushes, and pauses to make sure nobody has followed her.
Peace has returned to Birchbane. The only sounds to be heard are birdsong and the slight rustling of the mountain breeze through carefully tended topiary.
When she is quite sure she is alone, Storm plucks a thin cylinder from her pocket, along with her omnipresent lighter. She puts the paper tube to her lips and sparks the light, drawing deeply. Smoke rushes into her mouth, cycles through her lungs, and is expelled in two long streams through her nose. She leans against the hedge, head tilted back, mouth slightly open as she breathes deeply and feels some of the accumulated tension drift away.
Yes.
God yes.
That’s so, so much better.
“What are you doing?”
“Christ!” Storm drops her lighter as Laura emerges from the undergrowth “How! How are you everywhere!?”
“You are smoking?” Laura lifts an unimpressed brow at her.
Laura looks incredible as always, though she is attired simply in black pants, boots, and sweater. All she needs are a couple swipes of face paint and she would be ready to hunt terrorists through a jungle. She doesn’t need face paint to hunt her new prey, though. Finishing school students like Storm lack the wiles of the truly criminal.
Staring up at the woman, Storm literally cannot believe her bad fortune. It is as though she has entered some kind of an alternate world where everything that can go wrong, does go wrong.
Jane’s words come floating back to her: If I catch you lurking or otherwise misbehaving again, you will spend the rest of the day being punished.
“No,” Storm says. “No. No. No. No. No.”
“You are definitely smoking,” Laura says.
“Yes, of course, I’m fucking smoking. The no no no is about being caught.”
“You are also caught,” Laura says.
“Please don’t tell Jane,” Storm begs, dropping the cigarette and stamping it out.
“Miss Strict,” Laura amends.
“Don’t tell her either. Please.” Storm looks at Laura with the closest she can get to a puppy dog expression. “You can do anything. I’ll do anything. Just don’t tell her.”
Laura hesitates for a moment, reacting to the genuine fear in Storm’s tone.
“Why do you not want me to tell Miss Strict?”
“Because! I can’t go two seconds without messing something up. She’s going to start hating me soon. I’m already supposed to be seeing her at three today. If you go telling her I’ve done something else wrong as well, she’s probably going to think I’m doing it on purpose. You already made her think that after that whole scene with the headmistress. She was on my side until you were all hey, maybe she shouldn’t have got in trouble.”
Laura is not completely immune to the fact that Storm is now properly melting down. Her lips twist slightly with a hint of amusement. “Have you considered simply being good?”