CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The unending monotony of life at Bright Renewal took a subtle turn the day after Molly slipped her illicit note to Cole Graham.
The routines stayed the same, every second of every day planned and monitored by staff with only a moment here and there for an exchanged look, a subtle smirk, a whisper in the night.
Marks were handed out liberally to the intractable, no matter how minor their crimes.
Molly watched her own black tally grow with a sinking heart; she would never earn her way out of the Academy.
Contrarily, her best friend, Rebecca – her only friend, really – was rising in the ranks as swift as a sparrow.
Held as a perfect paragon of a Bright Renewal student, she could do no wrong, and Molly watched her earn praise and accolades with both jealousy and awe.
She understood why she was so beloved, always well groomed, always obedient, always pious, her beautiful hair in perfect auburn braids, her frumpy, misshapen uniform somehow trim and flattering.
As a reward, Rebecca had been given special duties by Mrs H, the school nurse, and was her helper in the infirmary.
This spared her from the worst of the menial work – scrubbing floors and toilets, doing the laundry, grueling yard work.
Molly wasn’t nearly so lucky, of course.
If anything, she was burdened with extra work on a regular basis.
Even so, she had no envy of Rebecca, only a nagging worry.
Mrs H’s interest in Rebecca was unseemly.
No teacher, no matter how young looking or pretty, should be consorting with a student, calling her into her office for private, unsupervised meetings.
Rebecca would grow flustered when Molly pointed out how inappropriate it was and accuse her of being jealous, so Molly stopped bringing it up, despite her worry.
Molly had liked Mrs H before all this. Clementine’s head nurse had been as popular as Sister Catarine with all the students – a kindly confidante, a sweet laywoman any Clem student could trust – yet here she was, volunteering at Bright Renewal.
It wiped away every good feeling she’d ever had toward her.
Now, Molly wondered if she could trust any adult in her life.
Not the Celestial nuns, certainly. Not the adults in charge of Bright Renewal. Not even her father.
A parent could withdraw their student from Bright Renewal anytime they wished. When she’d learned this fact, she’d nearly thrown up from weeping so hard.
But it wasn’t Mrs H and her inappropriate behavior that caused the tension in the air.
Since Molly had handed Cole Graham the note telling him his sister was dead, the mood in the entire academy had become fraught, and Cole was at the center of it.
He was a tall, burly boy possessed of a singular rage.
Anger shivered in the air around him. He said nothing and did nothing out of turn – for once – obeying all rules and direct orders, yet his anger was palpable, his entire being screaming resistance.
There was no other way to describe it. He went through the motions, acting the model student, but he was a tower of pent-up rage.
It sat in the rigidity of his jaw, the stiffness of his back, the quivering of his formidable muscles.
He was big enough to be the match of any staff or teacher, a boy in a man’s body.
He was a time bomb that everyone was waiting to explode.
It eventually happened one lunchtime. At first, no one was even sure what was happening, it started so simply.
When all the students took their seats, in meek silence but for the scraping of bench legs on the floor and the hushed rumble of a hundred children moving at once, heads hung in preparation for the blessing, one head remained held high: Cole’s.
He stood, shoulders squared, gaze sweeping the cafeteria, piercing, judgmental.
Eyes began to go to him, the prayer forgotten.
The braver of the students lifted their heads and stared back at him openly.
Encouragingly. Molly found herself craning her neck to watch him, wondering – dreading – what he was going to do.
Disobedience was dealt with rapidly at Bright Renewal, and violently.
“Take your seat, Mr Graham,” the boys’ head guardian said sharply, uncoiling a short whip from his belt and taking a few menacing steps toward him. “You get one warning.”
A few of the other guardians had also taken notice of Cole’s behavior. They began to thread their way to him, some faces creased with outrage, savage glee in others. Molly watched one man crack his knuckles, grinning eagerly.
“You killed her,” Cole said, his voice nearly a shout.
Slowly, he turned, marking each teacher, guard and staff member with a cold, steely glare.
“She knew. Knew your secrets, your lies. I told her. I told her the awful truth about this place! I told her what happens in solitary! And you killed her for it.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” Guardian Lafferty said.
He had his whip in one hand, but he made a placating gesture as he neared Cole and his voice became cajoling.
“It’s all right, Mr Graham. We understand you are grieving.
” He shook his head, grimacing. “A terrible business, suicide. I know how hurt–”
“ She did not kill herself! ” Cole’s voice boomed out, filling the cafeteria, demanding attention.
He spun on Lafferty, beefy hands clenched into fists.
“One of you got to her! She knew too much, and you killed her for it!” He pointed an accusing finger.
“You did this, and I am done playing your game. Done!”
By now, the other staff had surrounded Cole, keeping him at the center. They pulled the students from his table, ordering them out of the way, leaving Cole on his own. They scrambled to obey. No one wanted to get hit by the fallout of what was coming.
“You’re out of control, Graham,” Lafferty said. His beady eyes made contact with a few of the other teachers behind Cole and he gestured with his whip. “Leave the cafeteria. You need a few days of solitary, I think, until you’re right in the head.”
Cole didn’t move. He stared straight ahead, evidently waiting for them to make the first move.
Molly found herself drawn into his gaze.
Somehow, she was on her feet, too. Not a few other students were standing, watching the events unfold.
Excitement and trepidation boiled through the onlookers.
She wanted to shout, to tell him to capitulate.
What good would this do him, or any of them?
There was no winning here. Not by resistance.
“Sit down,” Molly whispered, her own hands bunching into fists.
Their eyes locked. For a moment, no one else seemed to exist. Cole stared back at her, his gaze softening.
He blinked, slowly, deliberately, conveying some sort of message, though she didn’t understand what it was.
Was he letting her know he didn’t blame her for Cassie’s death?
She’d been so worried he would hate her for bringing him the news.
It was strange – they’d never been friends, barely acquaintances, yet somehow, in this instance, they were allies.
“You all know where they take us for solitary. You all know about the crypts,” Cole said, his eyes finding his fellow students this time. “You all know what happens there. The chains! The pit. They drain us of–”
The teachers and guardians pounced on him and dragged him to the floor.
A ripple of discontent went through the student body, an angry murmur.
Benches scraped loudly against the floor.
Other staff waded into the fray, ordering the students back to their places, deploying whips and hands and wooden rulers freely.
For once, the rigid obedience so ruthlessly beaten into the students of Bright Renewal Academy failed.
The students howled their displeasure, ignored the ruthless punishment and urged their friend to fight.
Cole obliged, growling and bucking against the men trying to hold him down.
It was all they could do to keep him restrained, and they weren’t being gentle.
The head guardian had abandoned his whip and had Cole in a chokehold.
The boy’s face was red, his mouth open and gasping.
Grown men lay across his body, crushing him with their full weight.
“Stop! Stop it!” Molly cried, her protest drowned among many others. “You’re killing him!”
A surge of kids pushed toward the combatants, spurred by nothing more than emotion, and Molly found herself swept along with them.
She stumbled over someone’s feet and fell, her knees scraping hard against the wooden floorboards.
Some of the staff wrestling with Cole disengaged to push back this new threat, but Molly stayed crouched on her hands and knees and they ignored her.
A new tussle began behind her, another knot of violence, while in front of her Cole lay pinned beneath three men.
He wasn’t moving and his lips were blue.
“He’s not breathing!” she shrieked, panicked. She rounded on the adults crushing him, the teachers and guardians who were meant to keep them safe. “Help him!” she begged, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “By the Goddess, please!”
Mr Lafferty stared back at her, then looked down at the boy beneath his hands. His face went slack and he sprang back as if Cole had burned him. He urged the others to do the same. “Come on, come on. He’s learned his lesson.”
But Cole didn’t move, even when one of his tormentors shook his shoulder. He was limp, unresponsive. His face had no color.
“No,” Molly breathed, and Lafferty glared at her. The disturbance had extended throughout much of the cafeteria, but suddenly she, the head guardian, his two henchman and the unmoving boy were surrounded by a pool of stillness. Outrage wiped away all her fear. “You killed him.”