These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

Poe’s first to break the silence. “Holy shit.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Salem breathes out.

I wring my hands in my lap. “Yeah.”

Poe raises her hand in a gesture that says she needs a minute to process this and I give it to her. Then, “You’re here, at St. Mary’s, because of him.”

“Well, not really,” I reply, still wringing my hands. “I mean, he didn’t twist my arm and make me vandalize my dad’s car. I just did it because he inspired me that night. To be an artist. He set me free, really. I know none of the girls want to be here at St. Mary’s. But this is my happy place.”

At this, Salem smiles slightly. “And now he’s here.”

“Yeah.”

She shakes her head. “That’s some serious…”

“Voodoo shit,” Poe supplies.

“I was gonna say Fate,” Salem replies. “This is some serious destiny happening here. I mean, I thought Arrow and me were destined. Like you know how he came here when I came here? But we’ve got nothing on you guys.”

Arrow Carlisle, our former soccer coach and Salem’s boyfriend, did arrive at St. Mary’s at the same time as Salem. And I do think that it was destiny. Because before that Salem had been in love with him for eight years and he never noticed her.

Not until St. Mary’s.

“I’m not sure about Fate,” I say, shaking my head, not knowing what to say to her observation.

“Are you serious? This is definitely Fate.” Salem grimaces. “Although I don’t like the fact that he likes Miss Halsey.”

“He doesn’t just like her,” I correct Salem. “He loves her. He loved her years back when they were in high school and I think he loves her now years later. I mean he went to her wedding. And I saw his face. It was… it was so frozen.”

“And she gave him an ultimatum and let him go when his mom died?” Salem asks.

My heart squeezes in my chest and so I can only nod.

This is the one thing, in everything, that’s making me writhe in pain.

That’s making me want to curl into a ball and sob.

The very fact that she left him when he needed her the most.

I can’t cope with that. I don’t know how.

“And she’s really not willing to leave her husband for him?” Salem goes on. “Even though she said she has feelings for him and she’s been wanting to get back together?”

“No. Not right now at least,” I say.

“Wow, I did not expect that from her,” Poe asks, disbelief clear in her voice. “I mean, she’s a fucking guidance counselor. Aren’t they supposed to be like, the epitome of morals and stuff? Look at the hypocrisy here. They can take away our privileges just because we didn’t turn in our homework on time and she’s ready to be unfaithful to her husband with no repercussions. Plus you know her. She used to babysit you when you were a kid. You’re like… friends.”

I don’t want to think about the infidelity thing right now.

Except that I know it’s hard.

In our town and our society, it’s very hard, divorces. And complicated and difficult and… I can’t imagine all the tough choices she will have to make and all the people she will have to hurt in order to do this, to choose Conrad over Seth.

But then…

But what about him?

The man who’s left all alone in this mess.

The man who’s always been alone.

“And she teaches history,” Poe continues. “History is like the most boring subject in the world. I fucking hate history.”

Both Salem and I get distracted at this and Salem asks, “Okay, why do you hate history?”

Poe takes her time replying. Then with a sharp sigh, she says, “Because he teaches it.”

“He’s a history teacher?” I blurt out.

“Professor,” Poe corrects reluctantly. “He teaches history at a college.”

Okay so now, we’re completely and thoroughly distracted from the matter at hand because Poe has dropped a bomb on us.

“Wait.” Salem frowns. “But you always said that he didn’t do anything. Like he was this retired, lazy old man who got custody of you after your mom died and who’s in control of all your finances until you graduate from high school. So we’re all supposed to hate that evil old man who doesn’t give you money and who sent you here as a punishment.”

Exactly.

That’s what she told us about her guardian. That he’s this cruel old man who deserves to die at her hands or under her Prada heels.

Again, Poe makes us wait for her answer.

She looks at the ceiling, glances down at her nails, blows on them like she’s getting a manicure. Then she sighs and at last pays attention to us. “I may have exaggerated his age a little bit.”

“How exaggerated?” I ask suspiciously.

She purses her lips. “A lot.”

Salem goes, “Well then, how old —”

Poe cuts her off. “He might not be as old as I led everyone to believe. But he is old, or older than us. And he does have control of my finances until I graduate. Which happens in two months, and he did send me here as a punishment. So yeah, sue me for making him sound like a senile old man who was born with the dinosaurs.”