Page 22 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I fold down, pressing the tips of my steepled fingers to the skin between my brows hard enough to bruise. It helps with the shaking, and at least now I’m hidden behind Gabriel’s figure. If the boys walking past want to gape at me, they won’t be able to see much.

But even now, like this—shielded by the provost—someone’s watching me.

Are they waiting for me to fuck up and expose myself as the heretic I am?

Or are they intrigued by this stranger in their midst?

Well fuck them.

Whoever they are, they can go straight to hell.

Chapter 7

Trinity

I don’t bother trying to find anyone to sit with at breakfast. I hadn’t even planned on going to the dining hall after the terrible time I’d had at the chapel. But on my way back to the main building, Sister Miriam makes a beeline for me and falls in step beside me.

“I trust you are keeping well, Miss Malone?”

MissMalone.

A faint tingle works its way deep inside me. I don’t know why, but my entire body came alive when Brother Zachary had spoken my name yesterday. In fact, that had happened every time he’d looked at me too.

“Yes, thank you.” My voice is still thick with emotion. I don’t know how long Father Gabriel and I sat praying in the chapel. It felt like hours had gone by before he shifted in his seat and let out a soft, “Amen,” before excusing himself.

“What are you wearing?” Miriam asks, in exactly the same tone she’d used to greet me with.

“A uniform?” I look down at myself. My tie has shifted, exposing my cleavage.

I turn bright red. It must have been the run over here that did it. So was it like this the entire time Gabriel sat beside me in prayer?

Despite what I’d always thought, dying from shame is not only a possibility, but it seems destined to beMissMalone’s fate.

“Come see me after breakfast.” She breaks away and heads for the classrooms.

Someone’s watching me again. I scan all around me.

There’s no one in sight.

I stare at the distant trees. It’s so dark under that dense canopy, they could easily move around on the edges of the grounds without being seen.

Goosebumps break out on my skin.

I almost get all the way through breakfast without incident.

En route to the table to put down my empty tray, I feel eyes on me again. This time I don’t hesitate—I immediately scan the entire dining hall to see who’s looking in my direction.

Quite a few of the boys still seated at the benches are looking my way, but they duck their heads when I make eye contact.

Except the pair at the far back of the room. There beside the table with hot water urns for tea and coffee is the same sandy-haired guy I’d seen outside the chapel.

This time there’s no mistaking the video camera in his hand.

Or the fact it’s trained on me. He’s not looking through it. He’s watching the little fold-out screen.

I hastily put my tray on top of the others. Time to get the hell out of here. My tray upsets the entire pile. I wince as the trays clatter to the floor by my feet.

Not all of them were empty.

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