Page 42 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Closing how?” I sit back in my seat. He wasn’t wrong about my appetite—it comes and goes with my mood. I never eat when I’m uneasy, and for some reason his announcement fills me with dread.

“The students are leaving.” Gabriel chews on a piece of chicken for a moment, looking thoughtful. He washes it down with a sip of wine and then puts down his cutlery. “We have extensive maintenance work to undertake. Several sections of the building will be cordoned off. It’s just safer to send the students away until we reopen in the fall.”

I put my cutlery down too. “Where are they going?”

“Some of our students are going home, or visiting extended family. The rest will be boarding at Sisters of Mercy in Devon.”

Those that don’t have homes.

“Like me?”

He nods. “Maybe you’ll like it so much you decide to stay.”

I swallow down more soda, but my mouth is still dry.

I’ve been codependent my entire life. I didn’t have a choice, really. Not with parents who refused to send me to a regular school. The thought of what Father Gabriel’s telling me sets my heart to racing.

“But I can stay here if I want?”

“Not during the break, but if you decide to return with the other students…” he spreads his hands, that absent smile of his not shifting one iota.

Then he pushes away his plate in favor of nursing his glass of wine. He takes a few sips as I try to get back into my meal, but it’s impossible with him watching.

After a minute or so, he stands and goes over to the fireplace. He keeps his back to me as he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“I’m not pushing you away, Trinity.” He turns, smoke jettisoning from his nose. “I just want you to be happy. You’re not happy here.”

I hastily swallow. “But I am, Father. Really, I am.”

“Don’t lie to me, child.” He puts his head to the side, his smile turning hard. “I know it can’t be easy, a girl—woman—like you—” he points at me with the hand holding his cigarette “—surrounded by men.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? It feels like a trap, like he wants me to admit I can’t make it. That I want him to treat me like the friend I thought I was. That I need him to make an exception for the poor little girl who just lost her parents.

“I know these boys too well.” He runs his fingers through his hair, takes another drag. His exhale obscures the fire for a moment. “So many troubled youths beneath this roof, Trinity. It would turn your hair white to hear their stories.” He reaches out and flicks his cigarette ash into the ashtray.

“I know it won’t be easy,” I say as I slowly get to my feet. I hesitate, and then join him by the fire. “But…”

Lord, why is this so difficult to say?

“You’re all I have left.”

He glances at me for a second before his eyes go back to the fire. “You know that’s not true, Trinity.”

My chest fills with molten lava.

This again?

Really?

My hands are in fists, but it seems there’s no way I can possibly unfurl them. If my feet weren’t rooted to the spot, I’d storm out of here.

Why the fuck did I even come?

Healwaysdoes this. He turns things around and makes it seem like it’s your fault. That it’s always been your fault, and you were too stupid and too egotistical and too?—

vain

—to realize it.

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