Page 62 of Of Heathens & Havoc

“I’d bet money that the amount of double takes you get walking down the street would break records.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Then you seriously underestimate your hotness,” he says. “Why do you think I keep asking?”

“Because you’re a shameless flirt, and you know I’ll say no.”

“Alright, well, I do in fact have one girlfriend, and she’s going to get pissed if she finds me talking to another girl while I’m at her house, so what do you need, Red?”

“I need case files,” I say. “For a case that happened four years ago.”

“That should be easy enough. Your lawyer could probably get them for you.”

“It’s a juvenile case. They’re all sealed files.”

He pauses. “You know this is highly illegal.”

I laugh at that. “If it wasn’t, I’d be emailing, not calling you on a burner.”

“That’s fair,” he says, chuckling a little as well. “Do you know the case number?”

“There’s actually three,” I say. “I have the names of the boys. I need to know everything there is to know about the case.”

“Anything for you, my little psycho.”

“You can get them?”

“Lucky for you, I have connections,” he says. “So yes.”

I sink back on the bed in relief, closing my eyes and drawing a breath. It’s past time I know what I’m dealing with. Past time I got justice for Eternity.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll work it off… Whenever you have an opening.”

“Two weeks,” he says. “Friday night.”

I pick up the cross hanging around my neck and slip it between my lips, twisting it to bring the arms against the tenderinside. I press my lips together and jerk it out, wincing at the pain before the salve of warm blood spreads over my tongue. I let it calm me, spreading over my jangling nerves like a blanket of dew on a summer morning.

“I’ll be there.”

I hang up without waiting for a response. After erasing the call from the call log, I stand and pull open my drawer, wipe down my phone with rubbing alcohol, and wrap it in tissue before shoving it into my clog. Then I leave my room, pulling the door closed and making sure it’s locked. After slipping off my clogs, I descend the stairs silently and peek around the corner. The nun at the desk is snoring, her head back and her mouth hanging open.

Finally a lucky break.

I sneak past her and hurry across the deserted campus, hugging my cardigan closed against the damp chill. I check over my shoulder every few steps, the hair on the back of my neck prickling with paranoia. I swear I hear a soft footfall in the grass, but when I turn, there’s only the wind. Ducking my head, I break into a slow jog. If I’m caught, I’ll be questioned. Why am I out after curfew, sneaking around campus alone, in the dark?

It doesn’t matter what excuse I come up with. No one would ever guess the truth.

When I reach the dining hall, I check around me again before I circle behind it, pull open the corner of the dumpster, and bend to pry open my clog. I drop the tissue-wrapped phone into the bin and fix my shoe. I’ll order a new phone tomorrow.

For now, I’m relieved of any evidence.

Pulling my cardigan tighter around me, I hurry back to my dorm. The moon turns the dewy grass silver like the eyes of the Sincero boy who called me a whore. I look away, shame burning through me. He’s right. I can still feel their fingers inside me, the stretch, the damning ecstasy of being seen thatway, treated that way, humiliated that way. At the reminder, heat pulses inside the dull ache of tenderness they left.

I hurry to my building just in time to catch a flash of pink disappearing around a corner inside, so quick I can almost believe I imagined the person inside the dorm. Heart beating, I yank open the door and charge in, ignoring the nun, who lets out a startled snort as she wakes. I race up the stairs with her voice echoing behind me, asking where I’ve been. The clatter of my clogs masks any other noise, and I curse the necessity of them.

If I was a better person, I’d go back and obediently answer the sister’s questions. But then, if I was a better person, I wouldn’t have snuck out at all. Guilt chews at me with the realization that I ran because I knew she wouldn’t bother to come after me—and because I needed to know who else is sneaking around. Which girl is spying, and is she doing it for the Hellhounds or the Sinners?

My guilt isn’t enough to send me back to confess that I snuck out and take my punishment, and my curiosity is stronger than my sense of duty. I need to find the spy, to get answers from her.

---