Without another word, I get up and shove past a smug Miriam, sprinting upstairs to my room.

As soon as the door closes, I fling myself on my bed and bury my face in my pillow. I silently sob, hating myself for making everything worse. I’m broken. A brat. Rotten, just like everyone says I am.

Gathering my wits about me, I sit up and dig through my closet to find a change of clothes. My hands shake with how upset I still am, but I take a few deep breaths to try and get myself under control.

Ten minutes later, I shuffle down the stairs in a pair of...