17. Trinity
Chapter 17
Trinity
Despite its awful start, my day seems to take a good turn. I made progress with Jasper today. Heck, we might even be able to get along after all.
I’m still buzzing on that high when I get to my first class. English—taught by the very severe and very dry Sister Sharon. I never knew someone who could suck the fun out of literature as much as she could. But I’m determined to get through the lesson with a smile on my face.
Until I see who’s sitting in my chair.
“Cassius, please return to your usual seat,” Sharon says.
I’m pretty sure I would have remembered if the handsome sociopath of a hallway monitor was in my class.
Nope. Definitely a first.
“I don’t think she’ll be able to see over my head,” Cassius says. He sounds one-hundred percent genuine in his concern, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that makes me wonder what the hell he’s up to.
Surely he should have graduated last year already? He looks at least a year too old to be in my grade.
I stand at the front of the class, gripping my books like a lifeline as I wait for the situation to resolve itself.
“I suppose you’re right,” Sister Sharon says. She turns to me and then points to the seat in front of Cassius. “Take a seat Trinity. You’re holding up the class.”
Me?
I narrow my eyes at Cassius, and in response he slides an inch lower in his seat, props his elbow on the table, and leers at me like I’m a pork chop he’s been salivating over since his last meal. Feeling overly exposed in my ill-fitting dress, never mind every eye in the class watching me again, I make my way to the seat in front of Cassius and sit down.
Try to sit down.
At the last moment, there’s a flash of movement under Cassius’s desk. The chair isn’t there anymore.
Of course Sister Sharon had turned her back on the class to write something on the board.
Of course I lose my balance and land on my ass with a very comedic ‘oomph’ while my books and notepad go flying.
Of course everyone starts laughing.
And, of fucking course , Sister Sharon looks back as Cassius rushes over to help me up.
“Quiet!” Sharon whacks the edge of her desk with her wooden ruler. Then she turns shrewd eyes on me. “When you’re ready, Trinity, I’d like to start class?”
The fall must have knocked out my senses, because I don’t even struggle when Cassius kindly grasps my elbow and helps me to my feet. Or when he slides the chair under my ass like he’s seating me for a dinner date.
“New Girl’s a bit of a klutz,” he says, loud enough that everyone can hear.
I glare at him.
His fingertips trail along the back of my neck as he moves around his desk and takes his seat.
I sit stiff and unmoving for the first half of the lesson, afraid that even the slightest movement will bring undue attention to myself while hoping that sitting still will make the back of my neck stop tingling.
I don’t succeed at either.
“Turn to page eighty-four of your textbooks.”
I glance around and spot my English textbook laying on its back beside me on the floor. Thank the Lord Sharon didn’t see it there. She hands out knuckle raps if you dare to dog-ear a single page in your textbook. Imagine what she’d do if she saw?—
As soon as the book is in my hands, I know something’s wrong.
A spike of dread shoots through me when I turn it over.
What the hell?
This isn’t my textbook. Mine was a grubby second-hand copy—this one’s squeaky new.
I risk a quick glance over my shoulder.
Cassius is slouched in his seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. He has a textbook propped up on the desk in front of him.
That’s my textbook.
“Trinity?”
I spin back to face Sister Sharon. I open my mouth to apologize right off the bat for whatever she wants to charge me with, but then her eyes move down and land on the textbook.
“Have you forgotten how books work?” she asks sweetly, and my stomach sinks like a rock dropped down a well.
“No, Sister.”
“Then open it.”
Something tells me that’s not a good idea.
I should tell her it’s not my book, that Cassius switched it, but it’s obvious he’s one of her favored students. Plus, I never got around to writing my name in the front.
Screw it. I’m not gonna let this guy ruffle my feathers. My ass is still aching from my fall—I think I bruised it—and I don’t want him to think any of this shit affects me.
WWJD, right? He’d turn the other fucking cheek.
But I can’t move. I’m terrified.
Sharon’s eyes narrow to slits. She walks over and uses the tip of her ruler to flip open the cover.
I stare down at a photo-realistic drawing of Brother Zachary. Then I tip my head up and gape at Sister Sharon as my cheeks catch fire.
Why?
Why would Cassius do this to me?
“Wow,” comes a breathy whisper from behind. “That’s downright blasphemous, little slut.”
“I didn’t draw that!” I scoot back my chair and jump up. “Sister, I swear this isn’t my textbook.”
Thwack!
Everyone in class except Cassius flinches when her wooden ruler slaps down on the book. Sister Sharon has good aim—she manages to cover Zachary’s penciled ass and the cock he’s got shoved in my ass.
“I could come up with better excuses in my sleep,” Sister Sharon says, her wrinkled lips pursing with disgust.
I half-turn to glance at Cassius.
He’s sitting there with his elbows propped on the table, his head in his hands, mouth open with shock like he doesn’t know exactly where this book came from.
“Sit!”
My ass thumps into the chair.
“Hand out. Flat on the desk.”
I turn wide, pleading eyes to Sister Sharon but my hand’s already moving over the wooden desk. She uses the tip of her rule to flip closed the textbook, and then taps the far side of my desk.
“Here.”
My hand slides to the spot she selected. I close my eyes and drop my head, stifling a gasp when she brings her ruler down on the back of my hand.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack!
It’s like she’s trying to beat the sexual deviancy out of me. I keep my head down even when I hear her walking away. Then I glance back at Cassius without lifting it.
There’s no mistaking the satisfied gleam in his eyes.
“Why?” I mouth to him, blinking back tears of pain. I slide my hand back and cradle it in my lap as I wait for his answer.
“Eyes up front!” Sharon slaps her ruler on the edge of her desk, and the whole class sits up, me included.
When she turns her back again, I’m already anticipating the warm breath on the side of my neck, and Cassius’s smooth voice in my ears.
“I don’t like you, New Girl,” Cassius murmurs. “I think you should go back to where you came from.”
“Fuck you.” I sit forward so I don’t have to listen to him anymore.
A hand knots in my curly hair. Cassius wrenches my head back. I’m so shocked, I don’t even gasp.
His lips brush the shell of my ear as he whispers. “I’m just getting started. If I were you, I’d find a new school.”
I spend the rest of the lesson silently seething as I try to ignore my aching knuckles and scalp.
As soon as the bell rings Cassius swaggers past me and out the door.
I scoop up my things and hurry after him.
Words are going to be said. Possibly even yelled. I won’t stand for this and Cassius is going to know it in the next five seconds.
“Not so fast, Trinity.”
I skid to a halt by Sister Sharon’s desk.
“Sister?” I do my best to look humbled and not like I’m on my way to attack someone in the hallway.
She perches on the edge of her chair before taking a piece of paper from her drawer. Bowing her head, she starts writing. “This behavior is unacceptable.”
I open my mouth but she doesn’t allow me to speak.
“You’ve caused enough disruption by joining my class so late in the year—I won’t stand for further theatrics.”
I’m being outright bullied and she thinks I’m trying to get attention?
“When is your next lesson with Brother Zachary?”
A cold dread seeps into my bones. “Why?”
“I ask the questions,” Sharon says. Her pen scratches on the paper as she signs whatever she was writing with a violent flourish.
“Right now.”
“Good. You will take this letter—” she looks up and folds up the piece of paper she was writing on “—and you will hand it to Brother Zachary the moment you set foot in his class.”
She holds out the paper. It’s not even in an envelope. But as if she can read my mind, she adds, “It’s for his eyes only.”
This can’t be good.
My fingers are numb when I take the paper from her. I turn and head for the door.
“And Trinity?”
I pause, biting the inside of my lip.
“If you disrupt my class again, there will be severe consequences.”
My heart’s still pounding in my throat when I make my way down the hall.
Instead of confronting Cassius about his prank, I slink down the hall and pray no one notices me. I clomp down the stairs and stand in front of Zachary’s classroom door.
A student hurries toward me from the other side of the hall, and for a moment I’m convinced he’s a messenger about to make my day even worse.
Instead, he pauses about a yard away from the door and watches me intently. “You going in, or what?”
Shit, I didn’t even recognize him. It’s Simon—a kid from my psych class. I step back and let him go ahead of me while I try to gather my courage.
But it’s a lost cause—I’m rattled.
There’s no denying I have a target on my back. But who put it there?
And why?
Zachary looks up from his desk and then down at the paper I’m holding out. It trembles ever so slightly. He takes it from me, the class falling silent behind me when he opens it. Two of the students from my English class are also in psych, but I’m positive the rest of the class already knows about what happened in English.
Did any of them see the drawing?
I’d almost peeked at the letter when I was standing outside, but then I thought back to that stained glass window I’d seen on my first tour through Saint Amos.
That big eye in the sky.
Always watching.
Omnipotent.
Anyway, I don’t want to know what it says.
Ignorance is bliss, right?
Zachary folds open the letter and scans it. He closes it up and slips it into his desk drawer. Then his eyes fall to the textbook I’m crushing against my chest.
I’d forgotten all about it, but as soon as his eyes settle on the hardback cover, the drawing inside flashes through my mind like a still from a porno film.
I imagine, anyway. I’ve never seen one. I’ve never had access to the Internet without parental supervision. The dirtiest book in the library I was allowed to use was Pride and Prejudice.
“The book,” Zachary says evenly, when I don’t make a move.
I hand it over reluctantly as my cheeks grow hot.
Zachary flips open the front cover and goes to turn the page. His hand freezes and then drops to the bottom of the page.
“Surprisingly accurate,” he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear.
My ears start to buzz. “What?”
He flips the cover closed and sits back in his seat. Slowly shaking his head, Zachary studies me with magnetic eyes. “What are we going to do with you, Miss Malone?”
“It’s not my book,” I say.
He cocks his head. “You stole this from someone?”
“What? No!”
“Then how did you come to be in possession of it?” His eyes narrow with irritation.
The name is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say it. Which is ridiculous—if Zachary and Sister Sharon knew what Cassius had done, he’d be the one facing off with Zachary right now.
He’d be the one about to be punished.
He’d…
No, nothing would happen to him. It’s obvious Sister Sharon has a soft spot for him, and I’m pretty sure I saw him visiting Zachary on my first day here. It was only a glimpse as we passed in the hallway, but I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere.
I could accuse him, but I was the outsider.
The outcast.
No one was going to believe anything I said. It burns like righteous fire inside me, the fact that telling the truth would only get me into more trouble, but I’m not stupid enough to believe I’m capable of convincing these strangers.
Maybe I’ll go talk to Gabriel. If anyone would believe me, he would.
So I drop my gaze and hang my head like I’m overwhelmed with remorse.
“Take your seat,” Zachary says.
When I reach for the textbook, he lays a hand on it to stop me. “We’ll discuss this after class.”
In a weird, hallucinogenic moment, I think he’s talking about the drawing. What was there to discuss? The drawn-on expression of ragged bliss on my face as he pounds me from behind? The fact that I’m bent over this very desk?
Or how the longer I think about the drawing, the more I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like, being with him.
I don’t think I’m going to make it to the end of class.