Page 37 of Crossed
I hadn’t realized he went to public school. Just like the first time I saw him, an odd sense of familiarity whips through me, warming me to his presence. There’s something about him that reminds me of myself when I was his age, and it makes me protective in a way that I’m not used to feeling. I assume it’s because of my sick obsession with his sister, and it’s manifesting in Quinten as another way to feed my addiction to her.
Or perhaps it’s because I remember being that child, huddled in the corner while the other kids in the orphanage pointed and laughed.
Children— once they lose their innocence— are some of the cruelest creatures on earth.
Quinten curls in on himself. The larger boy bends over, picking up the fallen paper and holding it in front of his eyes, a cruel smirk twisting his features. The way his face twists with menace reminds me of Parker’s.
In fact, a lot about this child reminds me of him.
Does Parker have children?
I tilt my head, watching as the boy murmurs something, but I’m too far away to hear. He leans in, ripping the paper right down the middle, then drops it before stomping on it with his boot.
“Who is that?” I ask.
Principal Lee sighs, and I glance back to her, annoyed at her pinched expression.
“That’s Quinten Paquette,” she says with a monotonous voice. “And Bradley Gammond.”
I lift my brows. “Gammond? He looks so similar to Mr. Errien, I almost assumed that the boy was his.”
Principal Lee laughs tightly, shifting in her chair. “Yes, well… no. His mother is Florence Gammond, a defense attorney for the state. And her husband isSamuel.”
“And what does Samuel do?” I press.
“High- ranking military. He’s gone a lot.” Her eyes flick down the hall and then back.
“And this is common?” I nod toward the commotion.
“What is?”
I motion to the hall. “For you to allow children to behave in such a way?”
“Boys will be boys. You know how it goes.” She waves her hand in the air like she’s fanning smoke.
“No,” I say slowly, leaning in. “Howdoesit go?”
“Bradley, get to class!” An adult voice rings through the hallway. I look back, seeing what I assume is a teacher making her way toward the two boys.
“See?” Principal Lee smiles as she stands, moving toward her door and closing it before spinning back around to face me. “Lydia, Quinten’s handler, is there. No harm, no foul.”
Her lack of care scratches against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, flashes of Sister Agnes finding me bruised and making them worse instead of helping me heal.
“Does Amaya know her brother is bullied?”
Principal Lee’s brows shoot to her hairline. “Bullied?”
“What else would you call that?”
She huffs out a disbelieving breath, crossing her arms and moving to sit back in her chair. “With all due respect, Father Cade, I’m not sure you understand what kids are like.”
Her words break the dam, and bitter memories of my time in the orphanage burst through like flooding waters. Times when Sister Agnes’s cruelty whispered through the halls and gave the other children free rein to take out their own trauma on the skin of my arms or the back of my legs. The way the adults who were in charge would avert their eyes or whisper thatIwas a troublemaker. That I deserved it.
Nobody stood up for me then, the same way nobody is standing up for Quinten now.
My chest smarts, and I press my lips together.
“I take it you’ve met Miss Paquette then?” Principal Lee continues.
