Without Sin

Chapter 3

“You know he’s gay,” Mike says at lunch. He’s talking about Avery. The way he says it makes his friends laugh, as if liking other boys is a bad thing.

Jacob glares at his roommate across the table. “You don’t even know him.”

Jacob’s voice holds that undercurrent of anger that Mike will learn about soon enough. It’s the anger that got Jacob kicked out of the public high school last year, when one of the other freshman thought it would be cute to call him a fag.

Jacob had spent the rest of the day in the principal’s office, listening as “Dirty Harry” explained to his parents how horrible a child he could be. His therapist had been there, too. She hadn’t mentioned then that he was brilliant and bored. She had just nodded in all the right places, and when Jacob left the school, he had been told not to come back.

But Mike doesn’t catch the anger in Jacob’s voice, mostly because he probably doesn’t know it’s there. He shrugs and bites into his hamburger.

“He likes it up the ass,” another kid says, some freshman named Trevor something or other, who’s decided Mike’s cool just because he’s a grade older and talks a good game. Jacob doesn’t know where Mike finds them, but he won’t be sitting here again tomorrow.

When Trevor leans over and winks at Jacob, a stupid grin on his face like he knows Jacob will get his joke, Jacob grabs his collar and hauls him across the table.

Fear flickers in Trevor’s eyes. He grapples with Jacob’s hand at his neck, but Jacob has had more experience with this sort of bullshit and Trevor can’t pry Jacob’s fingers loose. Mike’s watching with wide eyes. “Shut the f**k up,” Jacob growls.

“I didn’t—” Trevor chokes, but Jacob shakes him until the words dry up.

Mike looks around, suddenly scared. “Jacob,” he warns.

“Take it back,” Jacob tells Trevor.

When Trevor shakes his head, Jacob pulls Trevor’s shirt tighter around his neck. His face is turning a deep red, almost purple, and Jacob wants to hurt him for talking about Avery. Jacob bares perfect white teeth as if he were a lion and about to bite the kid’s nose off, then snarls, “I said—”

“Okay,” Trevor says. “Jeez, okay, I take it back. I take it back.”

From the corner of his eye, Jacob sees one of the nuns heading his way. He releases Trevor, making the kid stumble from the table. Trevor lands on the floor with a thud that had to hurt and looks up at Jacob with wounded eyes. Then his gaze shifts to Mike as if asking for help, but Mike’s not looking his way. Mike’s staring at his plate, ignoring them both.

“Keep your goddamn mouth shut.” Jacob realizes the whole cafeteria has fallen silent. Everyone’s looking at them, even the lunch ladies behind the counter. “You say s**t like that again and I’ll f*****g kick your ass. I’ll—”

Then he feels a hand grip his arm. He looks up at the nun, a young woman hidden in the habit of her order, her eyes daring him to keep it up. He tries to pull away but can’t. He remembers this all too well and, without further argument, lets the nun drag him to the monsignor’s office. He suspects his parents will be called. He can’t imagine this will make them happy.

* * * *

There’s a short bench outside the monsignor’s office where the nun deposits Jacob to await punishment. He thinks about running away but where would he go? Back to his room, and as this is a boarding school, it would be a no-brainer to track him down there.

So he sits on the bench with a defiant look on his face. He glares at the students passing in the hall sneak furtive glances at him, like they’ve heard about what happened in the cafeteria and they’re afraid his wrath will fall on them next.

A few boys laugh when they walk by. The sound only fuels the fire still simmering inside him.

Suddenly Avery is there, pushing through the crowd to reach him, and despite the sudden euphoria that washes over him, Jacob continues to pout. He’s in deep s**t, he knows, and he’s afraid he’ll be sent home now. He’s not as worried about his parents’ reaction as he is about losing Avery before he even gets a chance to know the boy. If he has to go home, he’ll never get to know Avery the way he wants to.

Avery plops down on the bench beside Jacob, ignoring the whispers and open stares from the other students. He’s not supposed to be here, talking to someone waiting to see the monsignor. He can get in trouble, too.

Jacob’s almost embarrassed by the fight and doesn’t want to look at Avery so he turns away.

“You didn’t have to prove it to me,” Avery says with a grin. “I would’ve believed you were a bad boy, if you wanted me to.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jacob mutters, but he’s happy Avery is.

“You’re a celebrity.” Avery picks at the crease ironed into his pants and laughs. “There aren’t many fights here. Rich kids don’t know how to fight.”

Jacob watches the students hurry by him. “I feel like public enemy number one.” He always feels bad after he gets into trouble. So why can’t he stay of trouble?

“What happened?” Avery asks.

Jacob shrugs. . But he just met the boy and he’s not going to say

“Can I tell you what I heard?”

Jacob shrugs again.

Avery takes a deep breath like he’s about to start a grand story. “They say you picked some freshman up over the table and threw him to the floor. They say you could hear his spine snap in two. They say—”

“That’s bullshit,” Jacob mutters, but he likes the shine in Avery’s eyes as he tells the story. It sounds better than what really happened. He wishes it gone that way.

As if uninterrupted, Avery continues. “They say it took four sisters to hold you down.”

Jacob laughs. And I went willingly enough. I know the routine.”

Around them the hall starts to clear as the students rush off to class before the bell rings. Jacob wonders if Avery is worried about being late. He doesn’t look like he’s going to leave any time soon, and Jacob doesn’t want him to go.

. But Jacob doesn’t say that. Instead, he shrugs and mumbles, “I don’t know.”

He’s almost relieved when the door beside them opens and a nun steps out into the hall. She frowns at Avery. “Mr. , you’re going to be late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Avery says, rising. He winks at Jacob and mouths, “Be good.”

Jacob laughs. It’s a little late for that.

“Get up, mister,” the nun says. Jacob pushes himself to his feet and follows her into the monsignor’s office.

* * * *

The monsignor reminds Jacob of the old Obi-Wan Kenobi from the original movie. He wears dark robes like a Jedi and sits very still behind his desk, a piece of paper in his hand that Jacob suspects came from his own file.

Without looking up from the sheet of paper, the monsignor says, “Have a seat, Mr. Smithson.” His voice is raspy and old, and he wheezes like Darth Vader after every couple words.

Jacob sinks into a plush leather chair facing the monsignor’s desk and holds his breath.

“Sister Mary Margaret,” the monsignor intones as he breathes in—more than Jedi, Jacob thinks.

The nun steps forward. It’s the same sister who dragged him from the cafeteria. She doesn’t look at Jacob, either. Here in this office with its dark paneled walls and thick dark carpet, Jacob has ceased to exist.

Jacob thinks. He covers his mouth with one hand to hide his smile, but the monsignor notices. “Do you find this funny, young sir?”

Jacob snickers. “No.”

The monsignor looks at Jacob for the first time, ducking his head so he can peer over the top of his wire-frame glasses.

“Sister Mary Margaret,” the monsignor starts again, and when he’s sure Jacob’s not going to laugh, he turns back to the paper in his hands, “ me that you threatened another student of ours. Is that true?”

Jacob shrugs. The monsignor glances at him. “You are quoted as saying, ‘I’ll kick your f*****g end quote.” The words sound like fossils in his voice, dry and dusty, specimens whose meaning has been lost over the years. “Did you say those words, Mr. Smithson?”

“Yes.” Because the monsignor appears to be waiting for something more, Jacob adds, “Your honor.”

“It’s ‘Monsignor.’“ He waits another minute, but when Jacob doesn’t make the correction, he sighs. “Are you going to be a troublemaker, Mr. Smithson?”

“I don’t want to be,” Jacob admits. , he adds silently,

But he sure as hell doesn’t say

Another deep Vader- breath, and the monsignor asks, “Why did you threaten the other student?”

Jacob pouts. “He said a friend of mine liked it up the ass.”

If he’s hoping to shock the monsignor, he fails.

Jacob wishes his brain would shut up so he won’t get into any more trouble.

“Fighting of any sort is not allowed on school grounds,” the monsignor tells him. Jacob nods. “Do you think we should call your parents?”

Jacob shakes his head. “No.” He doesn’t want to hear his mom cry over the phone.

For a long moment the monsignor watches him, those heavy-lidded eyes of his pinning Jacob in place like a captured butterfly.

Maybe it is, for most boys. Maybe it scares the fight out of them. But Jacob knows the minute he’s free, he’ll do it again if he has to. He’s scrappy like that. He doesn’t want anyone walking all over him, and he doesn’t want to hear them talking bad about Avery.

But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he nods and mumbles, “Yes, sir.

He watches that piece of paper disappear into his folder, which he knows will be thick as the Bible by the time he’s done at St. Thomas Aquinas.