Modric’s POV
I remembered Cedric Thorne laughing.
That was the part that stayed with me.
Not what he said.
Not even the exact insult.
The laughter.
We had been seventeen.
Old enough to understand cruelty.
Young enough to pretend cruelty was entertainment.
Mary Ann had been sitting alone in the academy dining hall with a tray in front of her. I could no longer remember what she had been eating.
I remembered what happened when she stood.
Cedric looked at her plate and asked whether the kitchen had prepared enough food for everyone else after serving her.
Several boys laughed.
So did I.
Then someone called her Fat Moon.
I could not remember who said it first.
Maybe Cedric.
Maybe me.
That almost made it worse.
We had used the insult so often that its beginning had disappeare
