Page 68 of The Exorcism of Faeries

Gibbs shrugged, “Didn’t say. Just said to be there when you can.”

Atta left her drink on the table in front of the sofa and rushed to the student services building, trying not to panic. She’d done everything they’d said. She’d done her TA work and taken as many shifts at the morgue as possible so she could pay the rest of the tuition her TA position didn’t cover. She’d even scrimped on meals so she hadn’t used up all of her allotted food privileges as a TA.

If they wanted more money, or they’d found out she was spending more time with Sonder than was strictly appropriate, she’d figure it out—she had to. Surely it was all unrelated. Lynch was the dean of the college her TA position was under, but not her actual master’s program.

No. It was unrelated, and everything would be fine.

The secretary at the front didn’t take her to Mrs O’Sullivan’s office, but directly to Dean Lynch. The young girl announced who she was and swept past Atta, back out into the corridor. Lynch regarded her with a look she couldn’t pinpoint, but every nerve in her body was on alert. She’d never seen him more than a passing occurrence here and there and had never noticed his sunken eyes and thinning hair.

“Miss Morrow. Please, sit.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to run.

He was a large man, and she suspected he was the type to wield it with little grace. Crossing his hands over his protruding belly, he leaned back in his chair. “Miss Morrow, it has come to my attention that you have been traipsing around the college’s private grounds at night. Is this true?”

Atta was stunned. Didn’t all students walk around the grounds at night? There was no curfew at Trinity. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“In particular,” he punched every consonant, “the cemetery that is strictly off-limits for a myriad of reasons.”

Oh no.She felt as if she might cry, or explode. “I?—”

“What’s worse,” hisscame out like a hiss, “is that one of the graves was disturbed on the very night you were seen there.”

Oh god.She was going to throw up on his desk.

“Tell me, Miss Morrow, what does a young Botany grad student need with a graveyard, hm?”

“I—”Jesus, get some words out. Anything!A voice unlike her own oozed out of her, calm, collected, slick as oil. “You might not be aware, but I was raised above my parents’ mortuary, and I find solace in cemeteries. Walking there, I noticed some pretty flowers, and I picked them. But I did not disturb a grave, sir. The deceased are sacred, especially those who perished from the Plague.”

One of Dean Lynch’s eyes twitched. “Be that as it may, the provost and I have come to the difficult conclusion that this transgression is unforgivable. You are hereby expelled from Trinity College Dublin and I want you off the property tonight.”

Atta gaped at him like a fish. “You cannot be serious!” She knew her tone hit a hysterical pitch, but she didn’t care. “I have kept my grades up. I’ve worked my arse off to pay my tuition. I walk through a graveyard, and youexpelme?”

“Do not take that tone with me,” he snarled, flopping forward in his seat. “This is a serious matter and you are lucky I don’t press charges against you for trespassing!”

Atta stood in a rush. “I can’t believe this. This is— It’s?—”

“I don’t believe for one second you picked bloody flowers and I doubt you’d like for me to look any further into it. Would you, Miss Morrow?” His voice had gone eerily quiet, all his anger dissipating like a ghost.

“You’re a bastard,” she hissed.

“Leave!” he boomed, rising from his chair as quickly as his anger resurfaced. “Before I have security escort you out. Pack your things. You arethroughhere.”

Atta’s eyes stung with unshed tears of fury, of anguish. She wanted to run or lie down and cry. She didn’t know which. Everything was a blur, a fog. She found herself back in her dorm without memory of getting there. She stood looking at all her things. All her assignments splayed on her desk, the books in little stacks all over the floor where she’d left them, Sonder’s coat still hanging on the wardrobe door because she kept forgetting to return it, or didn’t want to. Her watery eyes landed on her TCD mug on the desk and then reality hit her. She dropped onto her bed and wept.

Emmy heard her eventually. She came in, rubbed circles on her back, and waited for her to explain. When she did, Emmy exploded. Furious on behalf of her friend.

Eventually, Gibbs got Atta to drink some water, murmuring that Lynch was a prick.

Dony returned with boxes, looking like a sad, silent pup.

Together, they quietly packed up her things, the silence punctuated by one or another of her roommates voicing their dismay. It was freezing and drizzly out, but they helped her load her car and hugged her goodbye.

“This is just a blip,” Emmy whispered when she wrapped her arms around Atta and squeezed her tight. “All a misunderstanding. We’ll figure it out.”

Gibbs wouldn’t look her in the eye, but he hugged her neck. “Where will you go?”

“I– I don’t know.” And she didn’t. Galway was so far from everything she was working on. From Sonder and her friends.

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