by Rena Olsen
Bryce frowned. “Believing in superstitions shows a lack of faith, Julia. I’m going to have Susie talk more about that with you in your next session.”
“Fine,” I said, standing. “I’m going to get ready for bed.” I started for the door. “By the way, my mother called again and would really like to have us over for dinner. We haven’t seen them since the wedding.” At his furrowed brow, I added, “Kate won’t be there. She told my mother she doesn’t approve of the person I’ve become, whatever that means.”
Bryce stood and stretched. “I’ll look at my calendar and let you know, but the next few weeks are pretty busy.”
I nodded. “It would mean a lot for us to see them,” I said. “For them and for me.”
He walked toward me. “Do you know what I can’t stop thinking about?”
Ignoring his change in subject, I tried to plead my case to see my parents again. “We could even have them over here. I’d be happy to cook.”
His finger came over my lips as he stepped close. “Ever since you mentioned it, I can’t stop thinking about our first kiss on that rooftop.”
My pulse sped up as his other hand trailed up my arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Oh, yeah?” I whispered, forgetting what we’d been talking about entirely as he lowered his face toward my own.
“It was torture,” he said. “Glorious torture to only have your lips.” His hand found its way down my front, cupping my breast, kneading gently. “And it’s a miracle now to have all of you.” With that, he claimed my mouth, and any thoughts apart from my husband fled for the remainder of the night.
This is not the day to mess with him. He stayed after school to talk his teacher into raising his grade, but to no avail. Now the boys follow him, tossing pebbles at his back, and he has little desire to speed his steps, and little patience. As yet another pebble nicks his ear, he spins, fists clenched, breathing hard. The boys stop a few feet away, their leader grinning, relaxed, pleased with himself. He calls an insult, nothing the boy hasn’t heard before, but a rage builds up inside of him. In seconds he is on the leader, and the element of surprise is to his advantage. He straddles the larger boy, pummeling his face, knocking back his cronies when they try to interfere. Blood covers his knuckles, but he doesn’t care.
Behind him, brakes squeal, and he feels rather than sees the circle around them part. A tall figure blocks the sun, but doesn’t move to stop the boy’s fists. He slows on his own, curiosity overtaking his bloodlust. He squints at the dark silhouette, immediately recognizing the refined stance. “That’s enough,” the man says quietly, and motions for the boy to follow him. He rises, mechanically, leaving the other boy’s friends to take care of the aftermath of his rage.
The interior of the man’s car is dark leather, plush enough that even his slight body sinks into the seat. The man hands him a wet wipe and the boy is aware of how much blood covers his skin, some of it from his own split knuckles. He uses several wipes to clean it off, and the man is silent as he drives to the only hotel in town.
The boy is nervous about what the man wants, but he only offers him a chance to shower and clean up. The boy locks the bathroom door securely, but when he emerges the stranger is nowhere to be found. He flips through the channels on the TV, finding something he wants to watch for once, and jumps when the key turns in the lock and the man enters the room bearing carryout boxes from the café. Through mouthfuls of cheeseburger, the boy answers all the man’s questions about his life, his schooling, his family, the boys who torment him, though his answers are mostly half-truths or total fabrications. He has the eerie feeling that the man knows he’s lying, but he says nothing. When he’s finished, the man offers to drive him home.
He has the man drop him off in a housing development a mile from his actual house, and the small smile on the stranger’s face tells him that he has fooled no one. Before he gets out of the car, he asks who the man is, for he hasn’t spoken a word of himself the entire time they have been together.
“You may call me Reverend.”
Chapter 22
“Math is stupid.” Sydney covered her face with her hands, and frustration radiated off her entire body.
“It is,” I agreed, placing a hand on her arm. “But lucky for us, you’ve got this.”
She dropped her hands so she could roll her eyes at me, and I smiled. “Do you need a break?”
Without responding, she reached into her bag and pulled out a book. The library was pretty limited at the school, the books closely screened by the Reverend and the volunteer librarian, but the girls seemed to be fine with the selection. Not that they had much of a choice, as personal electronic devices weren’t allowed.
“I’ll give you a few minutes, but then we’re back at it, okay?” I stood as Sydney pointedly ignored me. She had been my biggest challenge so far, but after several months working with these girls, I was fairly adept at dealing with their attitudes. I had learned early that many of the girls who attended this school had come here because they were considered “difficult” at home, as opposed to those who were here as a foster or alternative placement. Sydney was one of those whose parents had placed her here voluntarily. The lucky ones had parents who visited every weekend when they came to church. Sydney was not one of the lucky ones, so I forgave her the chip on her shoulder. I was sure I could get through to her.
“How are things going?” Nancy checked in with me a few times a day, always making sure I was still happy with what I was doing. I had gotten into a rhythm with my life, and I felt like I had purpose. I worked at the church three days a week, either tutoring at the school or helping with marketing-related tasks. I attended my counseling sessions on one or two of those days. The weekends were for Bryce and church, and we made the most of our time together. The only difficult part was still the time I spent at home, now down to two days a week. Mostly I was able to keep myself busy with housekeeping tasks or independent Bible study, but there were still moments when my mind wandered to the letters I’d found in Bryce’s things. I had read through a couple more in a moment of weakness, but they didn’t shed any more light on who these people were, why they weren’t together, or if Bruce and Bryce were even the same person.
I knew I needed to confess to Bryce, but at this point I was worried about his reaction. I’d kept this secret for so long . . . he would be angry, and I’d discovered that angry Bryce frightened me just a bit. He stormed through the house and slammed doors. He rarely raised his voice, but his entire body was coiled as if ready to spring. The first time he got angry enough to break a glass, he looked stricken before stalking off. Usually a couple of hours in his office would calm him down, but I didn’t relish the thought of calling forth his angry side. It had emerged more often as the court case with the Reverend heated up. I didn’t know the details, but it was on the news as well. Bryce didn’t like the way the media spun the story, and cursed them at every turn. He always came back and apologized for his behavior, and I knew he was under stress, but I didn’t want to poke the dragon if I could help it. I wished he would share more of what was going on with me, but I had to be content with watching and reading what I could of the coverage, keeping in mind that it was likely not an accurate representation. What I learned was that the former parishioner was a veterinarian in the area, quite well-known, and he claimed that the Reverend and the church had taken money from him with false promises. No wonder Bryce was so angry with how the story was being relayed.
“Things are okay,” I said to answer Nancy’s question. I nodded at Sydney. “My student is a bit of a handful today.”
Nancy’s face filled with concern. “Do you need help? Sydney comes from a very difficult background.”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. I think I can get through to her. Whether she’ll actually learn any math . . . ?” I shrugged and Nancy laughed.
“While you’re giving her a break, why don’t you go give Bryce a cal
l? He called a while ago but said you didn’t pick up.”
Since the girls weren’t allowed to have electronics, I didn’t want to rub it in their faces by having my phone with me. I’d left it in the office with the office manager. “I’ll go give him a call. Can you keep an eye out here for me?”
Nancy nodded, and I hurried to the office. Bryce rarely called me during the day on my church days, though he checked in often on my days at home. Sometimes I thought he suspected I was up to something, but I hadn’t gone anywhere without telling him since the night I saw Van.
I hadn’t talked to Van since that night, which pained me, but she hadn’t reached out, either, so maybe it was that drifting apart that Susie had talked about.
“Hey, Julia.” I was surprised to see Stacy in the office when I arrived. “Did you hear?”
I shook my head. Stacy had been around a lot more, more than any of my other friends, actually. I was hesitant to call her my closest friend, but she was certainly the one I spent the most time with. She even came over some days when I was at the house, and we would have tea and talk about the church, since that was pretty much central to both of our lives. Stacy had some pretty good ideas about some programs for girls in the church, both those at the school and those in the youth program. She thought it would be nice to pair them up more, set up the girls from the school with positive friendship mentors to set them on the right path.
“You should call Bryce right away.” The look she gave me was coy, secretive, and I tried not to resent that she knew something about him that I didn’t. I again wondered why she and Bryce hadn’t ended up together, and sometimes I wanted to ask if she realized they hadn’t. I struck that thought from my head as soon as it arrived and asked for forgiveness. It was mean-spirited and jealous. I made a mental note to discuss it with Susie later.
I scooted behind the desk and dug my purse out from the drawer the office manager shared with me. Sure enough, when I looked at my phone I had several missed calls and texts from Bryce. I was sure I’d told him I didn’t keep my phone on me during tutoring, but clearly something was going on. I hit the button to call him back and he answered almost immediately.
Instead of being upset that he hadn’t been able to reach me, which I had been braced for, Bryce crowed into the phone. “We won, Julia! The lying coward retracted all his statements and pulled the case. I’m out celebrating with the Reverend right now, but let’s celebrate when I get home, okay?”
Pleasure rushed through my body. After the months of tension, all the late nights at work and stress and worry, it was finally over. I was relieved to have my charming, relaxed husband back. “I’ll make something special,” I said. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations!”
Bryce whooped one more time before declaring his undying love for me and hanging up the phone. I was still giggling as I put my phone back in my purse.
When I stood up, I was enveloped in a hug by Stacy. “Isn’t it great?” she said, keeping hold of my hands as she stepped back. “Every time he talked about the case, I got more worried. I wonder why the guy dropped it.”
I ignored the fact that she had insinuated that Bryce talked about the case with her. He didn’t even really talk about the case with me, except to say it was going badly. I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m so glad. It was really weighing on Bryce.”
Stacy nodded. “I know. I could tell.” She clasped her hands together. “We need to celebrate!”
“I need to get back to the school, actually,” I said, pulling my hands from hers.
“Later?”
“Celebrating with Bryce, but maybe this weekend?”
She looked disappointed but nodded. “Sounds great! We’ll talk soon.”
“Great, ’bye, Stace!”
I practically floated back to the school, but as soon as I crossed the threshold I knew something was up. Girls were walking in straight lines back toward their dormitories from the direction of the tutoring center, and I could hear screaming and crashing. I rushed against the crowd, worried that Nancy had gotten caught in an altercation. We had blowups from time to time, but they were usually fairly small. Only the occasional one required clearing the room.
My stomach clenched when I arrived back at the room and saw that it was Sydney on a rampage. She and Nancy were the only ones left in the room, and as I watched, Sydney picked up a desk and hurled it at the wall. I stepped forward and Nancy held out an arm to stop me.
“Careful, dear, I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, sidestepping her arm. I took another step forward. “Sydney?”
The girl turned to me, rage on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t come any closer, Julia.”
“Okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’ll just stand here, is that okay?”
Sydney didn’t answer. She walked to a bookshelf and started pulling the books off. Every few books she pulled, she’d stop and rip out a few pages or rip off the cover for good measure. It was a shame, when these girls had so little, that they felt compelled to destroy. But my college psych skills came back and I thought about how overwhelming it can be to go from having no one care about you to having so many people care about you, and the people in the church and at the school were extremely caring. It was like an overload.
“Sydney,” I said again, removing my heels and sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looked over at me and seemed surprised to find me down low. I didn’t want to tower over her like a threat. She went back to pulling the books off the shelves without responding.
“Sydney. I know you’re upset.”
She snorted.
“How can I help?”
“You can start by getting that bitch out of here.” She pointed to Nancy.
“Nancy is just trying to help, Sydney.”
“She’s a stone-cold bitch and I want her OUT,” Sydney screamed, poking the air. “Or I’m gonna start chucking these books at her fake ugly face!”
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I looked at Nancy. “Nancy, do you mind stepping out? It would help Sydney.”
Nancy frowned. “We don’t give in to the whims of children, Julia.”
I groaned internally. Now was not the time to make a stand. I didn’t have much training for these situations, but I knew that statements like that would goad the girl straight into more violence. She wasn’t in a place for reasoning.
Sure enough, a paperweight zoomed over my head. Nancy stepped neatly out of the way before it clattered against the wall behind her. I whipped my head back to look at Sydney. “Please,” I said. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Maybe you don’t,” Sydney replied, picking up a textbook and hefting it.
“Nancy.” I turned back to her. “Please.” I begged her with my eyes to cooperate. At this point I felt stuck between two immovable walls, and Nancy was my best option to find a crack.
Her eyes narrowed at me, but she gave a curt nod and stalked out of the room. To her credit, despite the anger radiating from her body, she closed the door with a quiet click instead of slamming it.
Sydney’s back was still to me. “Sydney? She’s gone.” No response at first, and then her shoulders began to shake and she collapsed onto the floor in sobs. She cried as if her heart was broken. Like a child who had been abandoned in the street. My heart broke listening to those sobs, and wetness tracked down my own cheeks. “Can I come over there, Sydney?”
She didn’t respond, but I crawled over anyway. It seemed the worst had passed, at least from our perspective. For Sydney, it was possible the worst was happening now. I crawled right up next to her and whispered, “Sydney, I’m going to touch your arm. Is it okay if I give you a hug?”
As an answer, as soon as I touched her shoulder, Sydney launched herself into my arms, clinging as she sobbed. I cried along with her, and I do
n’t know how long we sat like that until the storm seemed to have passed. “Sydney?” I said. “Do you want to talk?”
She sat up. “I can’t stand her,” she said, her voice still wavering. “While you were gone, she said . . . she said . . .”
I smoothed her hair back from her face where it stuck to the leftover moisture from tears and sweat. “She said what?” I assumed she meant Nancy.
“She’s an awful person,” Sydney said, her voice barely a breath. I had to lean in to make sure I heard her correctly.
“Nancy?”
“And him. All of them.”
“Sydney, are you sure—”
The door swung open and two large men filled the doorway. Sydney squeaked and burrowed further into my arms.
“Can I help you?” I asked. “We’re in the middle of something.”
“We’re here to help,” one of them said. I’d never seen him before, at the Gathering or in church or at the school. He was large enough that I thought I’d remember.
“I’ve got it handled, thank you,” I said, my arms tightening around the trembling girl. No way was I letting her go with strange men I didn’t know.
“It’s fine, Julia.” Nancy’s voice came from behind the men, and she peeked around their bulk to give me a reassuring smile. “They’re from the behavior unit. They’re here to take Sydney to the closet.”
I shuddered. I’d tried not to think about the closet since my initial tour before I started tutoring here. It was a tiny padded room used for girls who were misbehaving. They could be left there for hours, depending on their infraction. I thought it was a terrible use of discipline, but I knew better than to question. “I think we’ve got it handled, Nancy,” I said. “Sydney and I were just talking a bit, getting to the bottom of things.”
“That’s not your place, Julia,” Nancy said. “You’re not a counselor.”
My face reddened. “I realize that, but if she’ll talk to me, why—”