The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,33

fuck my tray was the last one and all I got was prison gruel. I’m glad I couldn’t go shower this morning because the place was infested with boys.

We’ve been through this little dance, the Universe and I. It seems to forget that even if it knocks me down, I’ll pop right back up again. A little like punching fog, and a lot like punching a balloon.

I slide the sausage off his fork and bite carefully into it. It’s not great, but anything’s better than the gruel.

“And if you don’t want to eat crap, get here sooner,” he mutters.

“Yes, Mom.”

My skin goes cold when I hear what I said, but it gets a chuckle from Jasper and a snicker from Perry, and I don’t want to ruin that.

How long will it take before a single phrase like that doesn’t stab icicles through my heart?

Another month? A year?

Maybe never.

However long it’ll take I can handle.

Because, honestly…how much worse can this possibly get?

Chapter Seventeen

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-end 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