Chapter 2

“No!” I cried, shaking my head, frightened by my own cry, which sounded utterly pathetic. “I'll tell Galina Yuryevna,” I whispered, looking into his angry eyes. And I promised, “I can. I can, got it?”

“Oh, is that so?!”

He stood and, without releasing my wrist, pulled me out of bed behind him. He dragged me across the room and shoved me into the bathroom. He threw my dress in after me, then slammed the door.

“Well, go on, wimp—tell her!” he said contemptuously. “Go ahead and cry; I'll listen. I expected nothing else from you. But understand this: I won't be responsible for what happens! And you'd better never find out what I'm capable of, Skeleton. Never. Right now you've got two minutes to take off that T-shirt and put on your old rags, or I'll come in and yank it off you myself. And hurry up—I'm not waiting!”

My fingers were already on the door. I quickly twisted the lock, shutting myself in to keep my stepbrother out, then jumped back and hurriedly bent down to pick up the tights and dress he'd thrown at me. My hands were shaking. He sounded smug, but I barely heard him as I obediently tugged the T-shirt off.

“And don't you dare imagine that I wanted to look at you. No one wants a bag of bones like you—not even for free! Thank God I've got plenty of people to ogle—without any ugly skeletons.”