Lessons in Sin by Pam Godwin

CHAPTER 9

TINSLEY

My head pounded as I stared at the laptop, the screen growing blurry with each heavy blink. I snapped it closed. After three hours of test-taking, I could barely keep my eyes open.

I stood from the desk and extended my arms toward the domed ceiling, stretching in a yoga upward salute, trying to wake my muscles.

Father Magnus’s classroom had been empty all morning, save for the man himself. For the past three hours, he sat in the row behind me, working on his laptop. He was so eerily quiet, so stock-still, I might’ve forgotten he was there. But that was impossible.

His presence overwhelmed the very air, smothering it with his dark masculinity and the echo of his promise.

It’ll be unpleasant.

He was really playing up my impending punishment, drawing out the suspense and dread. It was working. I envisioned a physical beating with some kind of dungeon-like implement, one I would fight tooth and nail. I would do everything in my power to make him regret keeping me here.

But deep in my gut, I was scared.

Pulling in a breath, I turned to face him.

“You finished?” His low, rich timbre vibrated through me as he lifted his eyes from his work.

“Crushed it.”

I’d considered not crushing it. If poor test scores meant more one-on-one time with Father Malicious, it would give me more opportunities to land a spot on his banned-from-Sion list.

But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t care if I was perceived as disobedient, entitled, or promiscuous. But I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking I was dumb.

My pride could only take so many hits.

He looked at his watch. “You still have forty minutes left. Most students run out of time during these tests.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. I answered all the questions.”

“If you didn’t do your best—”

“Yeah, I know. More strikes. Geesh.”

“Head to the dining hall. After lunch, I expect you back in this room. I teach two classes in the afternoon. You’ll sit through those, and by tomorrow, I’ll have your test results and class schedule.” He returned his attention to his laptop. “Dismissed.”

As I treaded out of the classroom, his gaze burned a hole between my shoulder blades, and I knew. I just knew he was counting down the minutes to whatever punishment he had planned for me.

At the doorway, I peeked back, and sure enough, his eyes were waiting, watching, glowing with anticipation.

With a shiver, I bolted down the hall.

Down the stairs and around a few bends, I found the dining hall easily enough. Starving, I made a beeline for the serving line. If the food was anything like the gooey, homemade cinnamon roll I’d grabbed from here after Mass, I was in for a treat.

Around thirty students and teachers sat at round tables scattered throughout the room. Their conversations quieted when I entered, their eyes tracking my path to the food counters.

I hated that. It didn’t matter where I went or what I was doing. There were always spectators judging me, picking out my flaws, and looking for ways to use me for my family.

Tuning them out, I filled a plate with organic fruit, warm baked bread, and vibrant green salad with grilled chicken. Everything looked so fresh and high quality, made from the best ingredients. Given the outrageous tuition, it made sense that first-class meals would be included.

I grabbed a bottle of water and began the arduous task of finding a place to sit.

Every pair of eyes in the dining hall watched me waffle over where to go. Yet no one offered a seat at their table. Not even Nevada and her redheaded sidekick. They looked away as I approached. Whatever. I didn’t want to be friends with them, either. I just wanted to eat my lunch without having to introduce myself to another group.

“What are you doing, Keaton’s sister?” Nevada asked as I took a seat across from her.

“Don’t be an asshole. You know my name.” I tucked into my salad.

“Everyone gets a nickname. That’s how this works.” She looked at something behind me and raised her voice. “Isn’t that right, Droopy Daisy?”

I twisted in the chair as the girl in question entered the dining hall. Her shoulders drooped. Her hair hung in stringy brown strands. But it was her disfigured face that had likely earned her the mean nickname.

Skin sagged from her eye sockets, pulling the outer corners of her eyelids downward as if there were no bones to hold the flesh of her cheeks in place. At first glance, I wondered if her face had been melted in a fire. But her misshapen mouth appeared to have no lower jaw or, at least, a severely underdeveloped one.

The deformity didn’t obscure her expression, though. If anything, her twisted features underscored the infuriation and hurt that burned in her eyes.

If I were a good person, I would lay into Nevada for being a nasty bitch and find a different table to finish my lunch. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t afford to make enemies with these girls. Not until I secured my exit out of here.

So I kept my disapproval to myself and inhaled my food.

“Droopy Daisy is the big sister on your floor.” Nevada nibbled on a carrot, studying me. “Watch your back. She’ll rat you out for using more than two squares of toilet paper.”

“Good to know.”

“I’m Alice.” The redhead leaned back and tapped her nails on the table. “You owe me a box of cookies.”

Shit.I hadn’t thought about who I might’ve stolen from this morning before Mass. But given the amount of food she had stashed in her room, she wasn’t hurting for cookies.

“I’ll pay you back.” I shrugged.

“Pay me back by introducing me to your brother Winston.”

Gross.“He’s twice your age.”

“Exactly. And he’s fucking gorgeous.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Tell him to visit you without the girlfriend. I’ll take care of the rest.”

She didn’t have a chance in hell with Winny. He was obsessed with his little plaything, Ash Elliott, and far too busy to drive to Maine. If anyone visited me, it would be Keaton.

I wasn’t about to share any of that with her. So I stood and grabbed the uneaten bread off my plate. “I have to get going. See you guys later.”

According to the schedule posted on the wall, I had thirty minutes to kill. Fresh air and sunlight drew me outside, and before I knew it, I was strolling off the paved path and through a thick copse of shade trees.

In about a month, Maine would be as cold as the North Pole. But today, the autumn air felt glorious, the canopy of leaves afire in hues of golds and reds. It made me crave cider and fuzzy blankets and home.

There were so many things I didn’t like about Bishop’s Landing, such as the pretentious parties and fake smiles. But I missed my brothers and sisters, the comfort in familiarity, and my freedom.

Here, I was imprisoned by a wall, an actual electric fence. The cage felt smaller and smaller by the hour, closing in and making it hard to breathe.

If I went along with this, if I accepted this school and finished the year here, what then?

My mother would offer up her virgin princess like a sacrifice to the wealthiest, most powerful family she could find, thereby transferring control over my life to yet another asshole.

If I didn’t take hold of my future now, I never would.

A dirt trail cut through the grove. I nibbled on the crusty bread and strolled along, lost in thought. Until movement caught my eye.

Something wriggled in the leaf litter. I held still, squinting, and spotted a narrow white face. No, two faces.

Two tiny gray fur balls, about five inches long, clung to a fallen branch. With black beady eyes, Mickey Mouse ears, and rat-like tails, they were the cutest opossums I’d ever seen.

“Awww! Are you littermates?” I searched the area for more and realized they were likely orphaned.

They were too young, too wobbly on their little toes. Opossums this small lived in their mother’s pouch. I didn’t know how they would survive the winter out here, let alone the next few days without food and shelter.

I knelt beside them, and oh my heart. They were so precious with their little pink noses and twitchy whiskers. They didn’t seem afraid of me. In fact, their heads lifted from the branch, their snouts reaching toward my hand.

The bread.

“You’re hungry.” I looked around for a safe place to feed them.

A few feet away, the base of a huge tree offered all sorts of hiding spots. If I moved them there, I wouldn’t have to worry about a peregrine falcon swooping down and eating them.

“I’ll call you Jaden and Willow.” Slowly lifting their branch, I dragged them to the tree.

The tangled aboveground root system formed a deep recess, perfect for sheltering their tiny bodies from predators and cold.

I made a soft bed out of leaves and added the bread. Then, using another stick, I transferred each opossum into the cavity. They instantly fell upon the bread, tearing off tiny bites.

Fruit or veggies might’ve been better, but I was fairly certain they would eat anything. In Bishop’s Landing, our gardener complained about opossums scavenging through the garbage.

After dinner, I would bring them water and a variety of food. But for now, I lay down on my side, contentedly watching them eat.

Until I fell asleep.

It was a horrible accident. I hadn’t even meant to close my eyes. But when I woke, I knew an hour or two had passed.

I was in deep fucking shit.

Within the shelter of tree roots, Jaden and Willow curled up beside the partially eaten bread. Sound asleep. Safe.

I left them there and raced back to the main building with dread gnawing the lining of my stomach. By the time I reached his classroom, I felt like I was going to be sick.

The door was shut, but according to the clock I’d passed in the hall, I’d missed both of his classes.

My heart thundered as I reached for the handle, my hand hovering, trembling over the latch.

I couldn’t do it. Not like this. I couldn’t go in there all scared and worn down and guilty. Not to mention, I needed to pee something fierce. My bladder felt like it was going to pop.

Curling my fingers, I yanked my hand from the handle and slowly backed away.

Two seconds later, the door opened.

I held my breath as Carrie swept out. She veered in the opposite direction and slumped against the wall with her eyes closed. Her hands went to her heart, and she sighed with nauseating pleasure.

Meanwhile, I stood a few feet away, feeling woefully different about the man in that room. But she wasn’t the one who had destroyed her uniform, violated the fasting rule, fell asleep in church, and missed his two classes.

I’m so dead.

Straightening, Carrie paced off down the corridor and vanished around the corner. She never even saw me standing here.

But he did.

Filling the gap in the doorway, he held his arms at his sides, his expression empty. Unreadable.

His razored gaze dragged over me, and though I was prepared for its sharp edges, a full-body tremor broke free. I locked my legs to keep them from wobbling. I didn’t cringe, didn’t show weakness.

I bit down on a tender part of my lip, the spot I’d been worrying since I left Bishop’s Landing. My teeth scraped it, cutting it open and beading blood on my tongue.

He noticed, his focus zooming in, pupils dilating. His dark lashes lowered like shields over his emotions, and his fingers did that thing with his thumb, rubbing together, cryptic and forbidding.

Whatever was brewing in the interior regions of Father Magnus wasn’t good.

His silent stillness made a ruthless meal out of my nerves until my goosebumps formed goosebumps, and the hairs on my nape jumped away from my skin.

His fingers stopped moving, and his deep blue eyes latched on to mine.

“Close the door behind you.” He delivered the order with terrifying calmness and strode back into the room.

I had no choice but to follow.