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.
“Try to do what’s smart from now on,” Stephanie was saying to Angela, “so that you won’t run into problems like these. Like I said to you before, sorority members are exempt from the sufferings ordinary students have to endure—”
Sophia was a sorority member, and she was suffering.
But this wasn’t the moment for sarcasm anymore.
“—and make sure that next time, you tell me the truth. That way, we won’t have to go through this again.”
“It will NOT happen again,” Sophia said. In front of her fellow sorority members, she marched up to Stephanie, her eyes like vacant holes.
Stephanie stepped away from her, an uneasy frown washing out her face.
The blonde grabbed Sophia instantly, slapping her across the mouth with a sound that resembled a gunshot.
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