Page 3 of Their Will be Done

Oh Lord. Do I have more gruel to look forward to?

I pause in the hallway, a hand on my stomach. I have to stop thinking about that or I’ll fucking puke.

I’m used to the hallways being empty around here. It seems the only time there’re lots of activities is in the morning when all the boys rush to go shower before pray—

Wait. Did I miss prayer?

I peek down the hallway and spot a boy heading toward me, hair wet and a towel dangling from his shoulders.

“Sorry?” I call out, stepping into the hallway.

He takes me in with a frown. “Yeah?”

“Were there prayers this morning?”

“It’s Saturday,” he says, frown deepening as he moves past me.

I throw up my hands at his retreating back.

* * *

I risk a peek outside.There’s not a cloud in the sky and, judging from the position of the sun, it’s early. I should have checked my schedule. Were the weekend activities even on there?

Opening the door wider, I step outside to catch some sun on my face before heading for the dining hall.

I’m not the last to arrive—there are a handful of trays still left on the table. Including mine—bright pink post-it still intact.

TRINITY MALONE

I grimacebefore I notice there’s a little heart above each of the I’s in my name and then a butterfly starts fluttering around in my stomach. I grab my tray and turn to look for an empty spot.

On cue, the snickers begin. I spot a few gaps, but every time I get near, they miraculously close up.

Not all miracles are divine.

Assholes.

There’s something different about the boys today, but I’m too busy trying to ignore their awful giggles to figure out what it is.

Movement draws my eye. Apollo’s waving at me through the kitchen door’s window.

A second butterfly joins the first.

Zach said he’d send for me to discuss what they wanted me to do next. Is that why Apollo’s calling me? I hadn’t thought it would be so soon. I’d hoped to get my head straight by then.

I swallow and walk across the dining hall.

I haven’t had a chance to process the past twenty-four hours. I’ve never felt this conflicted in my life. I want to hate those guys—hell,of courseI hate them—but after hearing their stories…is it any wonder they’re so fucked up?

But what about Father Gabriel? The stuff they told me about him? I can’t even begin to process that.

Zach told me Father Gabriel would be back tomorrow.

Apollo pushes open the door when I get close, and beckons me inside with a charming, lopsided smile.

“Hi,” I say, fumbling with my tray as I push a stray curl behind my ear.

He cocks his head and leads me to a steel door. Daylight streams in when he opens it. I step into a courtyard that smells of damp bricks. There’s a concrete table and four stools in the center.

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