But McKenna coming up behind the podium has her mouth and her eyebrows rearranged into her special solemn face, carefully mixed stern and sad and holy. Back when they were in first year and a fifth-year got killed in a car crash over the Christmas break, they all came back in January to that face. They haven’t seen it since.
Not Ronan the groundskeeper. People are twisting to see if they can spot anyone missing.
‘Girls,’ McKenna says. ‘I have some tragic news to share with you. You will be shocked and grieved, but I expect you to behave with the good sense and dignity that are part of the St Kilda’s tradition.’
Straining silence. ‘Someone found a used condom,’ Julia guesses, on a breath too low for anyone but the four of them to hear.
‘Shh,’ Holly says, without looking at her. She’s sitting up high and straight, staring at McKenna and wrapping a tissue around and around her hand. Selena wants to ask if she’s OK, but Holly might kick her.
‘I am sorry to tell you that this morning a student from St Colm’s was found dead on our grounds. Christopher Harper-’
Selena thinks her chair’s spun over backwards, into nothing. McKenna’s gone. The hall has turned grey and misty, tilting, clanging with bells and squeals and distorted scraps of music left over from the Valentine’s dance.
Selena understands, way too late and completely, why she wasn’t punished after that first night. She had some nerve, back then, thinking she had any right to hope for that mercy.
Something hurts, a long way away. When she looks down she sees Julia’s hand on her upper arm; to anyone watching it would look like a shock-grab, but Julia’s fingers are digging in hard. She says, low, ‘Don’t fucking faint.’
The pain is good; it pushes the mist back a little. Selena says, ‘OK.’
‘Just don’t break down, and keep your mouth shut. Can you do that?’
Selena nods. She’s not sure what Julia’s talking about, but she can remember it anyway; it helps, having two solid things to hold on to, one in each hand. Behind her someone is sobbing, loud and fake. When Julia lets go of her arm she misses the pain.
She should have seen this coming, after that first night. She should have spotted it seething in every shadow, red-mouthed and ravenous, waiting for a great golden voice to give it the word to leap.
She thought she was the one who would be punished. She let him keep coming back. She asked him to.
The splinters of music won’t stop scraping at her.
Becca watches the assembly through the clearest coldest water in the world, mountain water full of movement and quirky little questions. She can’t remember if she expected this part to be difficult; she thinks probably she never thought about it. As far as she can tell she’s having the easiest time of anyone in the whole room.
McKenna tells them not to be afraid because the police have everything under control. She tells them to be very careful, in any telephone calls to their parents, not to cause needless worry with foolish hysteria. There will be group counselling sessions for all classes. There will be individual counselling sessions for anyone who feels she may need it. Remember that you can talk to your class teacher or to Sister Ignatius at any time. At the end she tells them to return to their homerooms, where their class teachers will join them to answer any questions they may have.
They foam out of the gym into the entrance hall. Teachers are positioned ready to herd them and hush them, but the jabber and the sobs can’t be tamped down any longer; they surge up, careening around the high ceiling-space and up the stairwell. Becca feels like she’s taken her feet off the ground and she’s being carried along effortlessly, floated from shoulder to shoulder, all down the long corridors.