“By the way,” Stephanie continued, a hand on her hip, “have you seen my boyfriend lately, Angela?”
A trick question. It had to be. Was she referring to Brendan or Kim?
“I haven’t talked to Brendan since I’ve arrived.”
“Really?”
“He’s nowhere to be found. Like he never even existed.”
“Have you asked any of the other novices?”
An even worse trick question. Sophia’s breath caught in her throat, like she’d planned on saying something. Would she get in trouble too if Stephanie found out? Angela took the hint and diverted the topic. “I’ve been considering it. Is there anyone in particular I should ask?”
Stephanie sighed, rubbed a hand on the glass. A channel to the ocean roared beneath them, dampening a rumble of thunder. “You’re not a bad liar.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gestured toward the blonde with the braids, holding out Sophia to her. “Just for a minute,” Stephanie whispered.
The blonde sighed in annoyance.
Then she opened the hatch, grabbed Sophia by the back of her blouse, and before Angela could completely understand what was happening, shoved her forward so that she leaned dangerously into the night. If it weren’t for the blonde’s hand, twisted inside her shirt fabric, Sophia would have already plummeted into the channel. Wind whipped through the hole, blasting Angela’s long hair from her face, flapping it behind her like a red banner. The sea crashed beneath them, almost more deafening than the thunder. Churning. Merciless.
If Sophia didn’t plummet, it would be a miracle.
Angela cried out, dropping her book satchel. Her clipboard flipped into the wind.
She’s going to lose her. Any second.
There wasn’t any way that blonde would have the strength to hold Sophia for long. Her blouse was straining, one of the buttons popping off and falling into the water.
“Do you understand how things work here, Angela?” Stephanie’s voice was loud, and yet too calm for what was taking place. She watched Sophia’s skirt bluster against her knees, entertained, but with all the sophistication of a cruel child. “You might have made a few friends here and there, but I’m the only friend that’s going to count. And you shouldn’t hide things from your best friend. Right?”
Sophia’s going to die.
She’s GOING TO DIE.
For a second, Angela saw the corpse in the alley near the Theology Center. But just as quickly, she saw Sophia again and ran to yank both her and the blonde back into the tunnel—if she could.
She’d barely moved before the blonde jerked Sophia back inside, tossing her into Angela’s chest, both of them collapsing in each other’s arms. Sophia still refused to speak. But her lips trembled, and tears streaked down her face, wetting Angela’s blouse. Her fingers curled with rage, grasping at anything, as if she could suffocate the sorority members inside her palms.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Angela hissed at the blonde. “She could have died.”
“Don’t be an infant.”
Incredibly, Stephanie sounded annoyed. The students behind her, excluding the blonde, glared at Angela, equally exasperated. Their blank faces said everything: this kind of craziness was normal, expected, routine. At last, Nina’s strange wariness of Stephanie held a lot more weight, and Stephanie’s pretty calm seemed much more like the serenity of a coiled snake. “We weren’t going to kill her. I just wanted to get the message across. About what can happen when you have a lot to lose and no one to look out for you.”
Her voice was too soft. Too normal. Angela fought with a wave of dizziness that must have been her fear. “I could tell the Vatican authorities what you’re doing, Stephanie. This is—it’s sick.”
How could she just stand there and watch?
And the senselessness of it made the question that much more terrible.
“Go ahead,” Stephanie said, “but I don’t think they’ll care. Much worse goes on here day to day. Besides, I have connections. Connections you could share, if you’d only listen to common sense. If you knew the rules, you’d also understand there are certain novices you can talk to, and others that are off-limits. Are we clear on that?”
Angela couldn’t even answer her.
She was biting her lip so hard it might have been bleeding.
Sophia pushed off her at last, standing to rearrange her uniform. What could she have possibly done to merit punishments like these? Her curls were soaked through with rain, and her eyes were bloodshot from crying and terror. She stared at her slippers, her face taking on the vacant emptiness that could be terrible in the right kind of light and atmosphere. When Stephanie spoke again, Sophia looked at her with a revolted expression.