Jemima tilted her chin up, defiantly trying to hold onto her scrap of the high ground when Miss Whitledge mentioned the dress-borrowing incident.
She wanted this encounter to be over possibly more than Miss Whitledge did, but Jemima also found herself blinking in rapid disbelief at the thought the Slytherin might leave with the last words resounding down the corridor for every last teacher and student to hear. Perhaps what she ought to have done now was to say sorry. Beg forgiveness. Promise to make amends.
But all her self-control had been torn to shreds since yesterday, every nerve-ending in her body a live wire, every thought rushing off the tip of her tongue before she could stop them. (What did it matter anymore, trying to spare people's feelings? She had already ruined that.) So instead she pushed up into Sweetie Whitledge's face with as much disdain she could muster. "Next time maybe you should ask your sister if she even wants your help before you go and embarrass your family even further," she shot back. "Because you're doing an excellent job of it right now."
She wanted this encounter to be over possibly more than Miss Whitledge did, but Jemima also found herself blinking in rapid disbelief at the thought the Slytherin might leave with the last words resounding down the corridor for every last teacher and student to hear. Perhaps what she ought to have done now was to say sorry. Beg forgiveness. Promise to make amends.
But all her self-control had been torn to shreds since yesterday, every nerve-ending in her body a live wire, every thought rushing off the tip of her tongue before she could stop them. (What did it matter anymore, trying to spare people's feelings? She had already ruined that.) So instead she pushed up into Sweetie Whitledge's face with as much disdain she could muster. "Next time maybe you should ask your sister if she even wants your help before you go and embarrass your family even further," she shot back. "Because you're doing an excellent job of it right now."
