The Merciless II by Danielle Vega Page A

mother’s voice. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade . I smile sadly. I always hated when she said that, but I’d give anything to hear her say it again.
    â€œMass is in a half an hour,” Leena says, filling Heathcliff’s food bowl with tiny brown pellets.
    â€œWhat time is it?” I mutter, pushing myself up. I didn’t bother unpacking last night. I reach for the duffel bag and dig around for my toiletry case. Leena loads bottles of shampoo and body wash into a plastic shower caddy.
    â€œJust after six,” she says. She picks up a can of raspberry-scented shaving cream, shakes it, then tosses it into the trash can next to her dresser. “Sutton’s already in line for the shower. I told her we’d meet her. Hurry, hurry!”
    Make lemonade, I tell myself. I slip on a pair of brand-new flip-flops that I bought for the showers, grab my towel, and follow Leena out of our room. The line for the bathroom stretches all the way down the hall.
    â€œYou’ve got to get up early to get in a good shower,” Leena says as we take our place next to Sutton at the end of the line. “But Sutton was too busy sexting her boyfriend this morning and forgot to wake me up.” She shoots Sutton an annoyed look.
    Sutton giggles. “What can I say? I’ve got to keep things interesting.”
    â€œYou have a cell phone?” I ask. Wanda told me that they weren’t allowed and made me put mine in storage. Sutton presses a finger to her lips.
    â€œA secret cell phone,” she whispers. “Shhh.”
    I glance around, but the other girls aren’t paying attention to us. I expected to hear talking and giggling as we wait in line, but the St. Mary’s girls seem different. Strange, even. They’re quiet, and the circles under their eyes tell me I’m not the only one who didn’t get much sleep last night.
    Father Marcus’s voice echoes through my head. We do not suffer defiance .
    I turn back to Sutton, careful to keep my voice low. “What did you send him?” I ask.
    Sutton tightens the belt on her bathrobe. “Nothing crazy,” she says, eyes wide and innocent. “Just a shot of me and my two besties.”
    I frown. “Are you talking about us?” I ask. Leena groans and pulls me closer.
    â€œShe’s talking about her boobs ,” she whispers into my ear.
    Sutton bursts into laughter. “You’re just jealous,” she says, pushing her cleavage together.
    We’re running late by the time we finally leave the dormitories and head through the wooded grounds to the chapel. Every girl in St. Mary’s has on the same uniform: blue jacket, plaid skirt, white polo, and stiff saddle shoes. Leena dresses her outfit up with dangly beaded earrings, and Sutton folds her waistband over twice, leaving two inches of skin between the bottom ofher skirt and the top of her knees. As she races to the chapel, her skirt twists in the cool autumn wind and I notice that she has deep scratches crisscrossing her knees and thighs.
    â€œIt’s not some crazy sex thing,” she says when she catches me looking. “I’m on the varsity field hockey team this year.” She winks. “Don’t look so scandalized.”
    Leena and Sutton hurry ahead of me, easily picking their way past rocks and gnarled tree roots. I move slower, stumbling over twigs and catching my heavy skirt on the bushes and branches that line the path. The grounds are beautiful but overgrown, the dirt paths crowded with weeds and pebbles. St. Mary’s girls flit through the trees around me like strange exotic birds. I see them from the corners of my eyes—a bare leg, a lock of blonde hair, or a spot of blue plaid—but they’re gone by the time I turn my head.
    Sutton grabs my arm and tugs. She’s strong for someone so tiny, and I stumble forward a few feet. “Come on . If we’re late, we miss the altar boys and