1 Chapter 1

The first time Jacob Smithson notices Avery Dendritch is at morning mass on the Wednesday that classes start at St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Boarding School for Boys.

Jacob sits with the rest of the sophomore class in the middle of a church that’s filled with pew upon pew of clean-cut boys in ironed khakis and navy blazers. He’s on the end of his pew and beside him is Mike Nelson, whom he already suspects he may not like. But Mike’s his roommate and the only person in the whole school Jacob knows, which is one more than Sunday evening, when his dad helped him move into his dorm. Mike laughs too loud and talks too fast, but Jacob can’t figure out if that’s because he’s nervous or just lonely, and he doesn’t much care, either.

When Mike whispers something to him about a study group this evening, Jacob leans out into the aisle and pretends to concentrate on the mass. Study groups?He rolls his eyes. He hasn’t even been to class yet.

Up on the altar, the priest holds the communion wafer in his hands, his eyes closed. Between the altar and Jacob’s pew sit the juniors and seniors, who have learned by this stage of the game to keep their heads down and their hands folded in their laps as if in prayer, but Jacob wonders how many of them are really praying and how many can’t wait for the mass to end.

He himself is one of the latter—in fact, he can’t wait for this whole school year to finish. He hopes that one year is enough penance to atone for whatever he did to piss his parents off enough to finally make good on their threat of boarding school. He tells himself he doesn’t know what the final straw could have been, but he knows it doesn’t matter. He is just too much trouble.

“Unruly,”the therapist had told his mom. “He’s brilliant, Sarah, and that’s part of his problem. The public school isn’t structured enough for him. It’s not engaging enough.”

So boarding school it is, even though he isn’t Catholic and this is the first mass to which he’s ever been. Already he feels like a puppet on a string, jerked to his feet when the congregation rises, let loose to fall into the pew when everyone else sits.

Beside the priest stands an altar boy roughly Jacob’s own age, dressed in a white cassock that hides his school uniform. He’s cute, with strawberry blond hair that stands up as if a cow licked his forehead, but Jacob thinks that’s the way he styled it. A quick tug of a comb when he stepped out of the shower this morning, probably running late…The thought makes Jacob nervous in a delicious way he can’t quite put into words. It’s the image of the altar boy in the shower that does it for him, and he covers his mouth with his hand to hide a sudden grin.

The altar boy stands with a huge book in both hands, holding it open while the priest reads from its pages. Jacob thinks it might be the Bible, but he’s not sure. Earlier there were readings from the book, and they were from the Bible, so it must be a Catholic version. He leans forward and rests his chin on the pew in front of him, watching the altar boy. He likes the way the candlelight catches in those reddish blond spikes, and he wonders what the boy’s name is. He wonders if the boy’s a sophomore, like himself, and why he couldn’t have someone like thatfor a roommate and not Mike, who can’t sit still. Every time he shifts, Jacob hears his song sheet crinkle, and he’s about ready to grab that damn piece of paper from Mike and smack him in the head with it. He doesn’t care if they arein a church—Mike is one of those guys who begs to be hit.

Which is partly why I’m here,Jacob reminds himself, his gaze never leaving the altar boy. He likes the way that cassock pulls against the round butt hidden beneath the white cloth.

He used to fight in public school because he has a temper and he can’t keep it in check. The teachers never understand it—he gets good grades but he can’t stop fighting in the halls. His parents think this school will be different.

He has his doubts.

The priest says something that Jacob misses but around him, students surge to their feet and he lets himself be dragged along like a boat tossed in a storm. He thinks he should sit down again and see if he can start a wave, and the thought makes him giggle, but he doesn’t think that would be a good idea. Not on the first day of classes.