Marie slices her hand frantically trying to pick up the glass, but the vision dissipates with the two abandoning the mess and fleeing the church.
Except guilt from the memory lingers, coiling in Brielle’s belly like a snake.
If only it were just the visions that clung to her. It’s the person’s knowledge of their wrongdoing that grasps her consciousness and doesn’t let go.
Brielle clenches her fingers begrudgingly around the arms of her chair as she lowers herself into it, cursing her second sight. If she tells Sister Agatha what she saw, the Brady Bunch’s hatred for her will only grow. She’ll continue to be known as the freak who knows things she shouldn’t. But if she doesn’t tell, she’ll have to live with Marie’s guilt, a constant itch in her insides that will never subside. Is it worth keeping Marie’s secret? Suffering for her just to be accepted?
Marie slides a glance at Brielle, the brief glare slashing through her. Marie already hates her. Why is Brielle even bothering to fight for acceptance? It’s a lost cause...
Brielle shakes her head. “I’m sorry Sister, but I don’t know anything about how the wine bottle broke.” This is Brielle’s first lie ever, and she internally applauds herself for how well she pulls it off. She hopes her voice and posture are as convincing as she thinks they are. She clears her throat. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I saw Marie in her bed last night. Kinda hard to miss her snoring.”
Marie visibly relaxes, and Sister Agatha frowns as she leans back in her chair. “Very well, you may go, Marie.” She dismisses the girl with a wave of her hand.
Marie eagerly stands up and skips out the door, throwing Brielle a knowing smile as she passes.
But Brielle didn’t do it for her. Well, not just for her, anyway.
“Thank you for your honesty, Brielle,” Sister Agatha begins once they’re alone. “I know I can always count on you to tell me the truth. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
Brielle doesn’t point out Sister Agatha has said that the past five times adoptive parents showed an interest in her.
“If I go,” she adds, unable to keep the tone of self-doubt out of her words.
“Oh, come on now, your chances of getting adopted this time look very good,” Sister Agatha chides. “Are you ready for the Pierces’ visit this afternoon?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Brielle says with little confidence but ample determination. “I hope they like me.”
“They already like you.” Sister Agatha smiles warmly. “That’s the reason they want to meet.”
Yes, she and the Pierces did seem to click right away when they stopped by for the Meet and Greet last week.
After the fiasco her last potential adoption had turned into years ago, she’d been metaphorically benched from these events for some time. And now that Brielle’s seventeen, she’d all but given up on getting adopted. So, for last week’s Meet and Greet, she’d opted to help the nuns keep the snacks and drinks stocked.
While she was pouring more lemonade into the dispenser on the snack table, there was a tap on her shoulder. Thinking it was one of the nuns, she turned around to see a handsome couple. The man looked like he was in his forties, with brown hair, green eyes, and a warm smile. He was tall, and his beige suit fitted him well. The woman on his arm was about the same age, her straight dark brown hair cut to just below shoulders left bare by her spaghetti strap dress.
“Excuse me, but what can you tell me about those girls?” the man asked, pointing to three of the Brady Bunch girls chatting against the wall. Clearly, he thought Brielle worked there.
Rather than correct him, she went along with it. “Well, the tall one is Marie. She’s a great conversationalist, but she can be prone to mischief. Ella is the short one, and she’s a wiz with numbers. And Sasha, the...er...voluptuous one”—she struggled to find a nice way to say fat—“she’s very sweet and loves all forms of art, especially painting.”
The couple both nodded, appraising each of the girls.
Brielle saw no reason to slander them. Just because they excluded her didn’t mean they deserved to be adopted any less than she did, and she wasn’t about to damage their chances. She had enough guilt to deal with without creating her own.
“Can I ask what you’re looking for?” After she asked the question, she felt stupid. They weren’t shopping for a piece of furniture, they