* * *
McQueen’s lecture continues as he escorts me back to my dorm. Feliks flashes in my mind and I hope the guys aren’t inside for McQueen to see. And I hope William didn't see me get back on campus.
What was I thinking? Fighting fire with fire only got me burnt. Maybe it's time I give up on this dream. Head back home and come up with another plan. This town is swarming with mobsters, and I don't know if I'll make it out alive. For now, I just want to get back to my dorm and figure out what to do next.
But I don't get very far.
Eve and her group of followers greet me in the dorm's communal area. Most of them sit on the sofas in front of coffee tables covered with books and Bibles. The fireplace roars as Eve sets her sights on me and everyone follows. The vaulted ceiling isn’t enough to make me feel any less confined. Chaya stands on the other side of the room, her eyes narrow like she’s in the middle of a heated argument.
“No way!” Eve yells, her sparkly shoes storming towards us. “We’re not having a criminal in our dorm, McQueen.” She holds out her phone. I thought I got away without the town knowing about my criminal offence but Eve reminds me nothing goes unnoticed in Clementine.
There’s a blurry photo of me handcuffed in front of McQueen’s house, two police cruisers on either side as they interrogate me. “Are you stalking me?” I’m not sure why that’s my first question. I just want the attention off me. Other girls from our dorm swarm into the lobby with curiosity.
Was this Dom’s plan? To force me to commit another crime and humiliate me for it? My brain does the math. Feliks could have taken that photo from where he parked. The angle behind the trees proves it.
“Why?” Eve takes a step toward me, cutting off my thoughts. “You afraid everyone will find out the criminal you are?”
“Do you know how many people get falsely accused each year?” Chaya claps back, a long yellow t-shirt on her body. “Don’t throw stones.”
“Was she falsely accused, Dean McQueen?” Eve blinks her eyes at McQueen. “Proverbs 12: Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but I don’t need to remind the dean of that, do I?”
“No, uh," McQueen stammers before his shoulders fall. "The police found her in my office." Well, damn. So much for another chance, McQueen.
“We don’t want her here,” Eve spits.
“That’s understandable.”
My jaw drops, gawking at McQueen.
“Just because Eve’s dad died doesn’t mean she gets a say,” Chaya says. “I want Mia here. She’s my roommate. My friend.”
“Not anymore,” Eve fires back. “And honestly, Chaya, you need better friends.”
“Who? You?” Chaya scoffs. “I’ll pass.”
Eve raises her hand in the air, red nails to the light. “All in favour of Mia Marshall being expelled from our dorms?” Her followers all raise their hands and when Eve looks around the room with that threatening gaze, everyone else does too.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Chaya groans, looking around the room. “All opposed?” She hoists a fist high in the air, but no one else follows. “Come on, guys, even Jesus gave Judas a second chance.”
“That’s exactly what she is,” Eve says. “Judas. Besides, three-thousand dollar AppleBooks weren’t around then.”
I appreciate Chaya’s gusto, but my heart sinks. So do my shoulders. There’s no winning this. When Eve wants something, it happens.
McQueen turns to me. “I’m sorry Mia, I—” A chime comes from his pocket and when he looks at his phone, he holds up a finger. “Yes. Milo Murphy.” Eve’s brows raise and hell, so do mine. The last time I saw Milo, he stepped over my bound body. “How nice to—You heard. Yes. Yes. Are you sure?” Eve glances at me when McQueen does. So does Chaya. But I’m as clueless as they are. “Okay, I’ll have that arranged.” McQueen drops his hands. “Not to worry, ladies. It seems we have a solution for our Judas.”
* * *
“The Murphy House.” Dean McQueen nods in the driver’s seat of his Rolls Royce.
Glancing at him, then back at the weird gothic modern mansion mashup in front of me, it makes little sense. “I live here?”
“For the time being,” McQueen says. “And that’s if you can keep out of trouble. The Murphy House is off-campus housing funded by Milo Murphy and Lucie Lozano of Clementine Ministries. They're doing you a favour by having you try it out."
My brows knit, the weird dungeon room coming back to me. Lucie’s eyes of pity. Milo’s zero-fucks attitude. “Who else lives here?” Why are they helping me?
"No one,” he sighs, getting out of the car. He opens the back door, grabbing my bags. "Should it concern me you'll be on your own? Yes. But like an obedient servant of God, I’m looking out for you. That doesn’t lift the boundaries of sexual contact and frivolous behaviour. You abide by SAA rules here.”
All this. For me?