Poison Heart by S.B. Hayes Page A

to fix her hair in the mirror, which was just a distraction because, as usual, it was sticking up everywhere like a bird’s nest. ‘She knows you don’t like her—’
    ‘What?’ I exploded. ‘I haven’t said anything to make her think that.’
    Hannah rummaged in her make-up bag and applied even more mascara to her thick lashes. They were both so quiet that I knew this wasn’t going well. I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood.
    Nat cleared her throat nervously. ‘She thought you were a bit … hostile and was worried she’d done something wrong. She wants to make amends.’
    I felt a pain right between my eyes and placed one hand across my forehead. Genevieve wasn’t wrong. I’d done nothing to put her at her ease, and she had undoubtedly picked up on my antagonism.
    ‘What
did
you say to her?’ Hannah asked softly.
    I paced up and down the tiled floor, my shoes making an eerie hollow sound.
    ‘I was a little … annoyed about her appearance,’ I finally confessed. ‘Did you notice how much it’s changed?’
    Hannah shrugged her shoulders. ‘Kind of. But so what? Everyone changes their look from time to time and …’
    ‘She’s wearing
my
coat,’ I interrupted. ‘The one I designed, hand-stitched and embroidered myself.’
    ‘But, Katy,’ Nat replied slowly, ‘Genevieve only justarrived. She couldn’t have copied your coat in such a short time.’
    I was dumbstruck because she was right. That coat had taken me the whole of the summer holidays to painstakingly make. No one could have reproduced it so quickly. I looked from one face to the other feeling mortified. I had to show them that I didn’t have a problem with Genevieve. I tried to slow down my breathing and appear unconcerned and reasonable.
    ‘Look, I’ll prove I have nothing against Genevieve. Let her come to lunch with us and I’ll make her really welcome.’
    Hannah’s face lit up with relief. ‘You’ll change your mind when you spend time with her. She really is OK.’
    ‘Considering what she’s been through,’ Nat put in sympathetically.
    So Genevieve had told
them
her life story as well. Far from it being a secret, she wanted everyone to know about her tragic past. I tried to speak normally, but my mouth felt as if it was full of sour lemons. ‘I know the heart-rending Orphan Annie story already … she’s told Merlin, and probably the whole college by now.’
    There was an astonished silence. Nat managed to croak, ‘Katy … you sound so spiteful.’
    My face reddened. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be horrible but … she seems to bring out the worst in me.’
    It was an awful admission to make and I felt thoroughly ashamed – again. I smiled weakly. ‘Sorry again. Let’snot fall out over Genevieve. We’re the three musketeers, remember?’
    We all walked to our respective classes and I pretended not to hear Hannah quietly point out, ‘Technically there were four musketeers.’
    Trying to get away from Genevieve was like trying to run from wildfire. She arrived breathlessly, a whirl of colour and movement, when the lesson was already under way, receiving only a gracious smile from our usually stern English teacher. I was relieved when she sat on the other side of the room, but no matter which way I turned she was in my line of vision. I craved quiet, to soothe the headache which had begun pulsating behind my left eye, but she volunteered to answer nearly every question in an irritatingly nonchalant way that had Mrs Hudson eating out of her hand. Her voice grated on me. The horrible truth filtered through that not only was Genevieve prettier, more outgoing and confident than me, but she was streets ahead of me in all the subjects that I loved. I began to feel physically sick. After twenty minutes my vision blurred and there were flashing lights going off in my head. I stood up shakily, mumbled an apology and headed back to the ladies’.
    Afterwards, bending over the sink and splashing my face with cold water made me