UnCatholic Conduct Page 9

  James shrugged.

  “Well, let me tell you, I perceive it as rude. Like you don’t have respect for the fact that I have information to give to everyone, not just you.”

  “Sorry,” James muttered.

  “Thank you. As I was saying, some of you are participating for credit toward phys ed. Some of you are participating for other reasons, for example, as part of your rehabilitation requirements from the juvenile detention centers where you spent time before coming to Pathways. Some of you are here instead of your computer skills training course. And some of you have requested to participate for recreation.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jil heard a student mutter. She looked back, but couldn’t identify the speaker.

  “We are very lucky to be going on this trip today, so I hope we can show our hosts that we are the best examples St. Marguerite’s has to offer. This opportunity is not given to all students. It isn’t part of the regular curriculum anymore, like it used to be,” Buck went on. “Both Mr. Genovese and I had the privilege of participating in something very similar when we were in high school. Isn’t that right, Mr. Genovese?”

  Mark grunted.

  “Ms. Kinness has also volunteered her time for you today, as Ms. McMonahan couldn’t be with us due to illness. Let’s show our appreciation for Ms. Kinness by a round of applause.”

  Some half-hearted clapping followed.

  Oh, for God’s sake, could you sit down and let the kids ride the bus in peace?

  “We will be arriving at the OEC in about twenty-five minutes, so to prepare, I have divided you already into groups…”

  Jil leaned against the window and took a long sip of her coffee, doing her best to drown out Buck’s constant drawling.

  Finally, he sat down and busied himself with papers and equipment in his own backpack. Behind her, Mark Genovese snored.

  *

  “Student council, a brief meeting,” Mark barked as he stood against the tree line, arms crossed over his barrel chest.

  Students broke away from the pack of kids unloading gear from the bottom of the bus, and strode over to where Mark waited.

  A couple of younger kids scampered to grab their packs. “Hi, Miss!” called Gideon, grinning widely.

  His friend Wyatt shoved him.

  “Hi, boys,” Jil called back. She looked down at her list and schedule. When she looked up, a group of students had already begun to encircle her. “Good morning,” she said, consciously deciding not to take a step back.

  “Hi, Miss.”

  “Oh, hi, Bex.”

  “How’d they rope you in to supervising a residence out-trip?”

  Jil grinned. “Well, Mr. Weekly found me sitting alone and unprotected in the staff room. Then he hog-tied me and dragged me out here on a Saturday morning in the freezing cold to go swing through old tires in the trees.”

  Bex stifled a smile.

  “Wish I’d stayed in your class, Miss,” said the girl standing next to her.

  Jil looked up and saw the girl with the bullring nose piercing who had left her class on the first day. “Yeah?”

  “I ended up in Law, and it’s frickin’ brutal.”

  “We get some fireworks in World Religions…and way too much homework,” Bex said, the corners of her mouth lifting a little.

  “Has to be better than studying precedent and a-priority.”

  “A priori?” said Jil.

  “Whatever. Yeah, that.”

  Jil smiled. “Okay, so who have we got here today?”

  Bex looked around. “They put all the girls with you, Miss.”

  Jil looked down at the pile of equipment a guide had just dumped beside them and understood why. No male teacher was going to be caught dead helping senior girls into harnesses.

  Fabulous.

  Jil handed her schedule to Bex and asked for introductions.

  “I’m Teegan,” said the girl with the bull ring. “Grade twelve.”

  “Nikki,” said a small girl with mousy blond hair and huge eyes. “Grade nine.”

  “Yeah for the minors.” Teegan cuffed the girl on the shoulder. Nikki giggled.

  “I’m here, Miss,” called a familiar voice. Jil turned around to see Joey running up behind her.

  “Did you come on the bus?”

  “Well, yeah. I was just, you know…”

  “Visiting the facilities?” Teagan joked.

  “Shut up. I had a lot of coffee this morning.”

  “Coffee? They serve coffee in residence?” Jil frowned.

  “Yeah, Miss. The dons get the first cup, but after that, it’s kind of a free-for-all.”

  “It’s okay if you add lotsa sugar,” said Nikki, giggling again.

  “What—you drink coffee?” Jil poked the girl in the arm.

  “Not all the time.”

  “Great. This should be a fun day.” She scanned her list. “Where’s Rachel?”

  Bex gestured toward the student council group. “She’s in a meeting.”

  Teegan hit her and frowned.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to elaborate?”

  Bex shook her head.

  Just then, Rachel strode over, her backpack cinched neatly across her waist and chest, her white student council shirt glowing through the green trees.

  “Hi, you must be Ms. Kinness.” She smiled widely and extended her hand, which Jil shook.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Before Jil could say another word, Rachel had clapped her hands and turned to the group—a grinning trail guide. “Okay, ladies, Mr. Genovese has asked me to go over a few points of safety.”

  Jil leaned back and watched, amused, as Rachel read the rules from a pamphlet: no wandering off alone, keep in sight of your staff guide, stay on the ropes course, always wear a helmet and a harness, one at a time on the ropes, wait until the guide gives you the go-ahead…

  The list went on for ten minutes, and by the time Rachel had finished, the other two teams were heading for the trail.

  Buck ambled over with a small woman in climbing gear dashing behind him. “Good morning, everyone.”

  Jil smiled tightly.

  “We’re in three different groups, but we’ll all be working together today.”

  Of course we will.

  “This is your climbing guide, Marcy. Can we all say good morning to Marcy?”

  “Good morning, Marcy,” chorused the girls.

  Marcy raised her thick eyebrows. “Um, hello.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Weekly,” said Jil before he could launch into another speech. “We’ll meet you and the rest of the squad over by the course.”

  Buck frowned a little and ambled away.

  Marcy looked slightly relieved.

  “So, where are we going to start?” Rachel beamed.

  “We’ll start by putting on our safety gear,” said Marcy. She picked up a harness and demonstrated how to put it on.

  Jil frowned, something bothering her. “Bex, why is student council here?”

  Bex snorted. “Peer support, Miss. They help the wayward Pathways student stay on a righteous path.”

  “But they don’t live in residence?”

  Bex shook her head. “Most Pathways kids aren’t leadership material.”

  Ten minutes passed while the students giggled and cursed, trying to wiggle into the restrictive straps. Finally, they had all passed a safety check and donned helmets.

  They met the other two groups by the first course. Mark’s students were already up the first obstacle. One student waited on the platform, forty feet in the air, while another student walked across vertical logs that hung from ropes. Every time he moved from one small surface to the other, Jil gasped.

  “Going up, Miss?” Buck said.

  “Not likely. You?” She imagined Buck hanging off the giant net at the end of the obstacle.

  “Oh, no. Mark and I have had our fill of these courses. When we were lads, this was a five-day-long adventure trip. Now, it’s five hours.”

  “
Do they still do a camp here?”

  “Yes, survival camp. St. Marguerite’s doesn’t have the money anymore. It’s mostly private schools that come. The kids do canoeing, camping, and high ropes. It’s a great experience.” He stopped as Mark approached. “Going up, sir?”

  Mark frowned. “Not today.”

  From beside Jil, Teegan whistled. “That’s fucking high,” she muttered.

  Mark’s face turned red, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Buck interrupted.

  “Teegan, how do you think it makes St. Marguerite’s look when you use language like that on a school trip?”

  Teegan rolled her eyes. “Sorry, sir.”

  “I accept your apology. What would be a better word to use?”

  “Very,” Teegan sighed. “That course is very high.”

  “Yes, it is. And it will take a lot of courage and stamina to get through it. Are you courageous? Do you have stamina?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mark snorted, and Teegan looked at the ground, her cheeks flushed.

  “Well then, let’s see you. Your turn next.”

  Jil shoved her forward by her helmet, and she smiled.

  “C’mon, team,” Mark bellowed. His group of strapping senior boys shoved off to the next course, their white shirts glinting.

  Teegan watched them for a moment, then looked up at the course.

  “Ready?” said Marcy.

  “Guess so.”

  “Belay on.”

  She chose the netting to ascend and didn’t look back.

  Buck nodded at Jil, who grimaced back, and waved as he took his students to a third course.

  This was going to be a very long day.

  *

  In the truck on the way home, she dialed Padraig’s number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what, Kidd?”

  “For not sending me to that fucking Pathways program.”

  Padraig laughed loud and hard. “Ah, see. This old man does know what’s best for you sometimes.”

  *

  The second tagging came two weeks later on a Tuesday morning. This time, it appeared above the statue of Jesus outside the main office.

  VENGEANCE IS MINE! SAYETH THE LORD.

  Same red paint. Same slanted block letters. Same indelible quality. Unfortunately, this tagging was even more difficult to remove than the last.

  “Who the hell could possibly get up here?” Rosie McMonahan complained to Jil as she watched from the atrium. “You’d have to be a monkey to climb those columns.”

  Two custodians on ladders scrubbed at the mess. Past them, Jil spotted Jess sitting at her desk, intently watching streams of video from the school’s security cameras. The camera outside the office had been blanked out.

  Jess shoved away from her desk and came quickly through the doors to the front office, almost sideswiping Jil.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “No harm. What’s wrong?”

  “We need increased surveillance.”

  “Seriously?”

  Jess’s eyes shot daggers. “This can’t keep happening.”

  The heat from Jess’s body made Jil swallow hard. Twice. She held her gaze, just barely, and saw something shift.

  Jess took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax. “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” she muttered. “This is going to be very expensive.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re going to find a way to do it even if you amp up security to the hilt.”

  Jess looked up abruptly. “Do you know something?”

  Jil stared back calmly, and this seemed to have a steadying effect on Jess as well. She let out a long breath and looked down. “Sorry.”

  “I wish I did know something.” Jil resisted the temptation to lay a hand on Jess’s arm. “I’m just as stumped as you are. But maybe I can help you find out.” Why would you say that? You’re supposed to be disguising your sleuthing capabilities, not flaunting them!

  If this offer surprised Jessica at all, she didn’t show it. “Consider yourself appointed,” she said dryly.

  Jil hid a nervous smile.

  Jess ordered the school cameras to be fixed, protected, and run round the clock. The adjustments were made. Vigilance was increased. The wall around the office entrance received a new coat of white paint to match the wall around the chapel. The atrium was fast losing its seafoam façade, though no one seemed sorry.

  Students walked past, discreetly touching their fingers into the wet paint to leave behind their fingerprints. Later, they would come back and write “Johannes was here” and “Vicky + Peter 4ever.” Jess ordered the wall repainted a second time and teachers posted on duty.

  “Do not touch the walls,” she commanded over the PA system. “If there is any more vandalism to our new paint, we will use the budget for the prom to cover the expenses of repainting.” She was on the warpath, and she meant business. The students knew better than to argue.

  After the second coat of paint had been applied, Mark Genovese pulled student council members out of class and posted them in groups of two or three, at various points in the large entryway.

  “Take care of this,” he barked to the oldest students.

  “Yes, sir,” said two older youths in jeans and white student council T-shirts.

  If a backpack or a sweater got too close to the wall, they’d yell. “Hey! Watch it!” Students stopped, the younger students especially—looks of surprise and awe on their faces. Senior students were talking to them. Reprimanding them.

  One young boy dashed away, red-faced. He hadn’t done it on purpose. His backpack was just way too big for his spindly legs.

  *

  At seven thirty a.m., Jil came through the front door, cheeks cold from the weather, snow dusting her black hat and wool coat. “Hey,” she said to Jess.

  Jess merely nodded.

  “What’s wrong?” Jil’s face fell. “Oh, don’t tell me. Where?”

  “The chapel.”

  Jil opened one side of the French doors to find Maggie crying silently next to the altar. Emblazoned across the stained-glass panel behind the altar was the third tagging. Bloodred block letters ruined the beautiful window.

  HATE IS THE ABOMINATION.

  “Julia, good morning.” She tried to smile.

  “I’m so sorry, Maggie.” Jil stared up at the dripping paint. “We’ll get it cleaned up.”

  “Not in time for prayers this morning, I don’t think.”

  “We’ll have an assembly instead.” Jess stood in the doorway. “Julia, can you help me in the caf?”

  Jil followed her.

  Very few students had arrived at school, which meant a small pool of prime suspects.

  Jess Blake strode back to the office, picked up the microphone, and made a command over the PA. “All students report to the senior cafeteria immediately.”

  She stood at the door to the office, watching students emerge from all corners of the school. She made no comment about backpacks or iPods or hats; she just watched their faces.

  Jil stepped back as a group of students in hockey uniforms almost trampled her. They were senior girls—tall, strapping young women—annoyed that their practice had been interrupted the morning before a big game.

  “Watch where you’re going, ladies,” their coach barked.

  Jil looked up, startled to see that voice belonged to the delicate Rosie McMonahan. “What’s going on?” she whispered to Jil as she passed.

  “Spot check,” Jil replied dryly.

  Jil waved students in ahead of her. She peered down the hall, but no one else was coming.

  When Jess got up on stage and surveyed the crowd, fewer than one hundred students were present. The stage band, the boys’ basketball team, the girls’ hockey team, the set painters for the play, and the debate club were all there.

  The usual early morning bunch were enjoying breakfast sandwiches at a table in the corner. A few junior students wh
ose parents dropped them off this early so they could get to work straggled through the halls as well. The perpetrator of the graffiti had probably not responded to the PA announcement, but a small possibility was better than nothing.

  “I want everyone to form a line in front of me, and put your backpacks on the floor in front of you,” Jess demanded.

  The basketball team shrugged. They didn’t have backpacks. Seeing the younger students shuffle uncertainly, and some of the other kids rolling their eyes, the captain of the boys’ basketball team stepped forward. He was not only captain of the team; he was also the head boy.

  “C’mon, guys,” he said loudly, stepping to the front of the line. The team lined up quickly behind him, and the rest of the students, seeing him cooperating, followed suit—some with better attitudes than others.

  Jess came down off the stage and stood at the front of the line. “Palms up, please,” she said to the captain.

  He turned his hands over, not asking any questions. Clean.

  Jess patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks. You can go.”

  The next boy in line stepped forward and showed his palms. They were clean too. No one on the basketball team had any red paint anywhere visible. Neither did any of the stage band or the debate team.

  Jil started at the back of the line and quickly eliminated the entire girls’ hockey team.

  “Good luck tomorrow,” she said to Rosie.

  She smiled. “They’re really good,” she confided.

  Jil grinned. “They’d better be. We need some positive news around here!”

  The hockey team filed out, and Jil recommenced her search.

  “Open your backpack, please,” she said to the next student.

  “Hi, Miss.”

  “Oh. Hi, Teegan.” Jil’s eyes zeroed in on the bullring dangling from her nose. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “Breakfast program. The residence breakfast bites.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m not opening my bag for some fucking inspection.”

  “Language?”

  “Sorry, Miss, but sometimes I get really sick of having no fucking privacy anywhere around here.”

  “I understand that, but this is an equal-opportunity request. And I think it’s in your best interest to do this with me rather than force me to confiscate that bag and take it to the officer who’s waiting in the front office.”