Page 9 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I pause, and then lean back to pull the door closed. He pats my arm, his smile growing a little sad around the edges.

“You’re safe now, child. This is the Lord’s house. He will watch over you while you’re under His roof.”

I think back to the stained glass window, the one with that big eye in the sky with the people toiling beneath it. And then the guy who slipped into my room.

If God was watching me, then it seems He was more interested in seeing how far he’d get than putting a stop to it.

But then a bell rang, and he stopped. I’d call that divine intervention, wouldn’t you?

“Thank you,” I murmur, dropping my gaze. My cheeks grow hot again. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t become my guardian.”

“A foster home is no place for a child of God,” he says. “Especially one as bright and talented as you. I’m more than happy to help.”

I manage a smile. Seeing Gabriel has brought back too many memories. They fill my mind as he leads me down the hall, and my mood dips ever lower.

Father Gabriel had been the bishop of our parish for close to five years before he left the country for missionary work a few months ago. My father, the priest of our local congregation, had known him since the start of his seminary training, where Father Gabriel had been one of his tutors.

Gabriel was at our house at least three times a week, and often ate dinner with us. He was my parents’ closest friend, and from what I could gather, their confidant when their marriage became a little rocky. That was way back before I was even born.

“I must apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. This close to summer, I have a hundred and one tasks.” Gabriel laughs. “I’m sure the staff is looking forward to this break as much as the students.”

I laugh with him and it sounds strange out here in the dimly lit hallways. “This place is enormous. How many students are here?”

“Just shy of five hundred.”

My mouth sets. I shouldn’t be ungrateful, but it begs the question. Before I can bring myself to ask it, though, Gabriel says, “You’re wondering why you don’t have your own room.” His mouth forms that all too familiar neutral line. “As much as I’d like to give you one, doing so would set a bad precedent. Students at Saint Amos must earn their privileges.”

“And a private room is a privilege,” I say, nodding along. I guess it would be unfair for me to be elevated above students who’ve been here for years already. And the last thing I want to do is stand out.

“So…does that mean Jasper lost his privileges?”

“God rewards our faith in many ways, Trinity. But he also demands penance for our sins.”

“What did Jasper do?” I ask, voice hushed. I’m guessing a private room is one of the best privileges around here. I could be wrong, but it would make sense why Jasper is acting so damn sulky.

“That’s between him and God.”

Gabriel pauses by a window. It’s the first one with clear glass I’ve noticed, and the first with a latch. I glance down both sides of the hall. I have no idea where I am. How long is it going to take me to figure out this place?

He pushes open the window and breathes in the air rushing in from outside, then beckons me over with a flip of his hand.

I go to stand beside him. My breath catches.

“Oh my Lo—” I cut off, biting down on my lip just in time.

Blasphemous little slut.

“If you think it’s beautiful now, wait till the leaves turn.” There’s a reverential hush to his voice.

“I can’t wait.”

Even though we’re on the third level of this majestic building, trees soar up and around us. It’s as if the school was dropped into the middle of the forest and left to its own defenses.

“Can you see where the grounds end?” Gabriel points, and I follow his finger.

“Yeah?”

“Anything past that fence is out of bounds,” he says firmly. “Understand?”

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