1. Trinity
Chapter 1
Trinity
There’s a loud thump as my head bounces off the window of the cab. My eyes fly open in surprise. I squint out at the blurring landscape as my mind scrambles to figure out where the hell I am while my heart tries to climb out of my throat.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Road’s not in the best condition.”
I glance over at the cab driver, and swipe the back of my hand over my mouth. Had I been drooling in my sleep? I’d been dreaming again.
A happy dream this time.
My parents were still alive.
“How long till we get there?” I mumble, trying to work out the kink in my neck.
Outside the cab’s window, colossal birch and maple trees block out everything but a strip of gray sky. There’s another thump, then a rattle, as the cab’s tire skates over another pothole.
“A few more minutes.”
Hugging myself, I turn and stare out my window. Better than watching the cab driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. We’ve spent over two hours together, and barely said a word.
Unless I missed it during my nap, we passed through the last town at least an hour ago and we’ve been heading deeper into West Virginia ever since.
For the first time since that policeman knocked on our front door, there’s some kind of order to my life.
“There it is,” the driver says as we round a corner.
My eyes latch onto the all-boys boarding school the second it appears through the windshield.
Holy crap.
My mouth goes dry. “That’s Saint Amos?”
“Your first time here?”
“Yeah. Had to transfer.”
We make eye contact in the mirror. “Isn’t it a little late in the year to be transferring?” He frowns. “Your folks should’ve let you finish out the semester.”
Heat touches my cheeks. “They…didn’t have a choice.”
The potholed tar street smooths into a hard-packed dirt road. The closer we get, the more the building looms, and the deeper my stomach sinks.
This place looks more like Dracula’s castle than a boarding school. There aren’t statues of demons and things on the facade, but its multitude of spires and fancy moldings still give it heavy gothic vibes.
Not that Dracula could live here. Someone would have to remove the enormous crucifix above the front entrance first.
The trees thin out to reveal an immaculately trimmed lawn. It pools around the base of the massive, sprawling school like algae in a pond.
We drive around a fountain where a concrete, pigeon-shit stained Virgin Mary is nursing baby Jesus.
Some of those streaks on her face look like calcified tears. That’s what my cheeks felt like for weeks after my parents’ car accident.
“Need help with your things?” the driver asks.
I shake my head, snapping out of my dour thoughts. “I’m good, thanks.”
He nods as he brakes and puts the car into park. “Good luck, and God bless.”
My mouth tightens, but I give him another nod and drag my duffel bag out with me. That and my backpack are the only things I have with me. Our family wasn’t big on material possessions like clothes, or jewelry, or furniture. In fact, the only thing they were big on was that . And the church, of course.
I tip my head back and stare up at the crucifix. Guess it’s no surprise I ended up here then. Despite the fact that I’m not a boy, or wanting to become a priest.
There’s a rattle of gravel as the cab driver pulls away, and I turn to watch him until the cab disappears in the dappled shadows cast by the birch trees.
If this place wasn’t so isolated, maybe I’d have run away. I’m used to getting by on pious little scraps…I’m sure I could make it out on the street.
I wince at the loud bang the big brass knocker on the door makes when I rap it. Every person inside must have heard that.
But nothing happens.
I shuffle my feet and glance around as I wait, then try again.
The door shifts inward.
Guess there’s no point in locking things around here. Who the hell’s going to rob this place? It’s miles away from anything.
Also, God would surely smite any would-be thieves with a few bolts of lightning if they tried.
I push open the door and step into cool, damp shadows that cling to me like a film. I’m in a vast entrance hall. Small, stained glass windows barely let enough light through to illuminate the double staircase. On a brighter day this place would look magnificent. Right now it’s like I’m starring in my own horror movie.
“Hello?” My voice hurriedly warbles back to me as if it’s terrified to venture deeper inside.
Lord, it’s quiet in here.
Where is everyone?
Surely someone had to know I was coming.
“Are you Trinity?”
My heart leaps into my throat, strangling my gasp.
I whirl around to face a kid a few years younger than me standing in the shadows beside the doorway.
Where the hell did he come from?
His brown slacks, a dress shirt with a brown tie, and a brown blazer, makes him look like the adolescent version of Mr. Bean, He even has the same dark, slicked-down hair.
He squints at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m real or a ghost.
“That’s me.” I try for jolly but probably end up closer to psychotic. “And you are?”
“Jasper. I’m your roommate.” Judging from the faint scowl on his face, he’s not thrilled with the idea. He struts past me, heading for the left set of stairs winding up to a landing.
I tighten my grip on my duffel bag and readjust the strap of my backpack before following. Our footsteps echo hollowly until we reach the wooden stairs.
“Roommate?” I call out after him. “So we don’t get our own rooms?”
“Duh,” he says dryly.
Holy crap, I’m just trying to make conversation. I didn’t ask to be here any more than he did. And I know he’s not here by choice, because no one would be here by choice.
This is the place bad souls go to await sentencing in the guise of guiding them to the light.
It’s damp. Dark. Dismal .
Dark wood panelling. Dark paintings with even darker subject matter. Even the light bulbs in the sconces on the wall seem to fight against the dark, as it presses back against their feeble, orange glow.
Jasper turns into a hallway leading off the landing.
He takes another turn. Then another.
So it’s a maze then. I’m trapped in a dark, depressing maze.
Holy crap, it’s cold. Two weeks until summer break, and it could be the middle of winter in here.
I’m wearing a black cardigan, a black tank, and light-wash jeans with the hems turned up so I don’t step on them. The thin wool covering my arms could have been tissue paper. I’m tempted to let down my mass of dark curls I’ve scraped into a pony, if only for some extra warmth around my neck.
What I know about Saint Amos could barely fill a serviette. This all-boys, faith-orientated prep school specializes in training new priests.
I didn’t come here for their theological program.
A remnant of my previous life lives here, the only person who still cares that I’m alive.
Cute but sheltered would perfectly sum up my dating profile…if I’d ever been allowed to date.
Father Gabriel is the only family I have left. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be a ward of the state.
Transferring to Saint Amos wasn’t my first choice, nor was it my choice at all, but orphans don’t get a say in how their lives are run until they’re eighteen.
Luckily, I’m used to having all my major life decisions made for me.
“So how long have you been enrolled here?”
“Forever,” Jasper whines.
Good God, this is the guy I have to bunk with? I should have packed some razor blades.
I glance at the multitude of doorways we’ve passed in this stretch of hallway alone. It’s impossible that every room in this place is occupied. So why do I have to share with anyone? Especially a boy? You’d think they’d frown upon that sort of thing, here.
Guess I’ll have to make an effort to be friendly.
“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.”
He lets out a sigh and gives a half-hearted shrug without looking back at me.
We pass a few stained glass windows, none of which look as if they can be opened. Most are random arrangements of colored glass, but the larger ones form kinda pretty artworks.
Doves flying toward rays of heavenly light.
Various saints and angels.
People tilling the soil under a watchful eye. There’s literally an eye in the sky.
“Place used to be a Catholic orphanage,” the kid says.
“Doesn’t look like much has changed.
Jasper glances back to frown at me.
“I mean, it’s still…” I want to say beautiful, but that would be an outright lie. “Impressive.”
We take another set of stairs, putting us on the fourth floor. Wooden doors crowd the walls of the passage. Small cards slipped behind tiny brass frames centered below each doorway’s arch label the room’s number.
Jasper leads me to a door.
113
He opens it and steps inside.
“You don’t lock your doors around here?”
He turns and gives me a dead-eyed stare. “Why, you got something to hide?”
I groan quietly as I enter the room.
It looks more like a prison cell than a bedroom.
Even the room’s only small window is meshed with a steel frame as if to stop its occupants from jumping out.
Two narrow cots against opposite walls. What’s left of the space is crowded out by a double-door closet and a desk with a set of drawers on each side of the gap where a rickety wood chair slides in.
Jasper points at one of the beds. “That’s mine.”
“You sure?” I mumble to myself. The beds look identical. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d told me no one lived in this room.
“That’s yours,” he says, pointing at the left-hand closet door. “Stay out of my side.”
“Why? You got something to hide?”
He turns angry eyes on me, and I bite down on my lip.
It’s been a long day.
Hell, it’s been a long ass couple of weeks.
My duffel bag and backpack thump to the floor. I’m glad I don’t have more clothes, because I doubt even half my stuff is going to fit in my closet space.
This place reeks of mothballs and stale air but if I can open the window that might help.
The window is sealed shut.
Jasper grabs something out of his drawer. “I got class,” he says, and walks out.
I rush over to the door and poke my head into the hall. “Hey!”
My voice booms back at me. Jasper swings around, but he doesn’t stop walking.
“Where do I go?”
“Dunno.” Jasper shrugs. “They only told me to show you the room!” he yells back before disappearing around the corner.
“Good God,” I mutter sourly as I step back into the room.
I stare out the doorway, and shiver when a damp breeze slips inside.
“Surprised no one gets pneumonia.” I mutter as I shove the door closed.
I let out another sigh and sink down gingerly onto the corner of my bed.
It groans theatrically under my weight.
I roll my eyes.
This is what happens when the only thing going through your head for weeks at a time is, I hate my life, shortly followed by, what else could possibly go wrong?
I challenged God, and he didn’t hold any punches.