The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,32

washing powder on this dress smells will have to do.

The fabric is baggy around my boobs and too tight around my hips. It’s so uncomfortable that I stand for a good minute seriously considering wearing the old, scratchy dress. At least it was baggy all over.

When I get down to the dining hall, everyone’s already seated. Sister Miriam is stalking down the aisles, head poking forward like she’s making sure no one’s thinking dirty thoughts.

Or is she looking for me?

I hurry over to the tray table and grab the lone tray sitting there. As soon as I turn around, I spot Jasper.

Because he was watching me with a concerned look on his face.

Holy crap, was I that rude to him? Or does he know I got into a heap of trouble with Miriam? That latter seems more likely, especially since he moves aside and beckons me over with a flick of his wrist.

“Thanks,” I mumble as I slide onto the bench beside him.

He studies me for a moment and then shrugs. “Nice dress.”

“Fuck off.”

His eyebrows go to his hairline, but he doesn’t reply. Perry’s sitting opposite us on the bench, but he doesn’t even look up from his tray.

I hear Sister Miriam approach from the other side of the room.

Clomp, clomp.

Grimacing faintly, I peel the plastic wrap off the tray. “Ew,” I murmur, using my spoon to poke at the beige gruel slopped in my tray.

Normally, there’s something different in each of the little hollows—a piece of toast, scrambled eggs, oatmeal.

Not today.

Today it’s all oatmeal. And it looks gross enough to be from last week’s batch.

“Running low on donations or something?” I mutter, glancing over at Jasper’s plate.

My spoon sags.

Jasper’s tray is full of the usual—in fact, it looks like he even got a fucking breakfast sausage.

What the hell?

“Maybe they ran out?” Jasper whispers.

Clomp, clomp.

I heap some of the disgusting oatmeal onto my spoon and toy with it for effect as Miriam comes up behind me. There’s a tug on the back of my dress, and suddenly my boobs fill the bodice.

“We’ll need to take more measurements,” Miriam says, as if I’m not surrounded by a table full of boys. “Come see me this afternoon.”

I’m blushing so hard I don’t even hear her walking away.

“Here,” Jasper says.

I glance at him. He’s holding out his sausage on the end of his fork.

When I look up at him, he drops his eyes.

“Not hungry,” I say, pushing away my plate.

I stand and go over to the far side of the room, ignoring the eyes surreptitiously following me. I pour myself a cup of coffee, hesitate, and then double the amount of sugar I normally do.

I’m sure I’m going to need the energy today.

On the way back to my seat, I spot movement across the room.

Of course.

My day wouldn’t be complete without someone filming me for no apparent reason. It’s blatantly obvious he’s got the lens focused on me—it tracks me as I cross the room.

I thump down into my seat and point at him, leaning sideways to Jasper. I keep my voice low even though Sister Miriam left the hall minutes ago.

“Who is that?”

Jasper frowns as he looks up. “Think his name’s Apollo.”

Perry turns in his seat and comes back with a nod. “Yeah. That’s Apollo. Why?”

“Because I’m sick of him filming me.” I stand and dust my hands. “And I’m sure Sister Miriam won’t like it when I tell her what he’s been doing.”

“You’re gonna tell?” Jasper frowns up at me.

I put my hands on my waist and glare down at him. “You’re lecturing me about snitching?”

The hall goes silent.

My cheeks instantly turn red.

But I hold my ground, even when Jasper frowns in confusion. “I didn’t say anything. Father Gabriel asked us where you were before he started prayers this morning.” Jasper throws out a hand to encompass every student in the school.

Even Apollo and his damned video camera.

“He asked the whole school, and when no one said they’d seen you, then he asked me specifically.” Jasper snorts and leans back, scooping up a heap of scrambled eggs with his fork. “I ain’t gonna lie for you.”

I deflate a little at that. I guess I should have realized Jasper wouldn’t snitch, but I hadn’t thought Gabriel would ask after me either.

I sink back into my seat and mutter out a low, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you,” Jasper says. He stabs his fork toward me again. “Now eat the fucking sausage.”

I stare at the oily sausage, and then up at him.

You know what? Thank