Chapter 1

Sister Gabrielle sat behind the large oak desk in her classroom at the Wings of Angels Catholic High School for Girls. With elbows planted on the desktop and her chin resting on her folded hands, the young nun watched her students take the English exam. As her eyes bounced from girl to girl, Sister Gabrielle recalled when she had been that age. Back then, she had been so unsure of everything except that she loved God and wanted to serve Him. Unlike these girls, she had gone to coed schools with all the insecurities and awkwardness of being around boys during puberty. Not that she had been attracted to them like the girls who had flaunted their bodies. At least that was one problem these girls didn’t have to deal with. With no boys in their classes or the hallways, they could focus on their studies without the distraction of a love interest.

Sister Gabrielle hadn’t grown up in the area, but she quickly learned the history of the convent and Wings of Angels schools. The small farming community in the midwestern part of the United States where the schools were located was founded by Irish Catholic settlers in the late 1800s, and the Catholic Church had seen it as an opportunity, a place where it could get a footing in the dominantly Protestant country. The Church had hoped to expand its influence to the neighboring towns and then the state and finally the entire country. So it invested heavily in a church, convent, and three schools. A coed elementary and two high schools, one for boys and one for girls.

The nuns from the convent served as the school teachers in all three while a single priest resided in the small private living quarters next to the church. The Church’s dream of spreading its influence had never materialized, but over a century later the convent and schools survived. As did using nuns as teachers. With money rolling in, the Church acquiesced to the congregation members. Their values had been passed down from generation to generation to expect nuns as teachers in the schools even though the Church had used secular teachers elsewhere for years. And because the elementary school was coed and the parents didn’t want their older children in a coed environment, there was another peculiarity. The elementary school stopped at sixth grade while the high schools went from seventh to twelfth.

That was a blessing for Sister Gabrielle. The young nun had two callings, to be a nun and to teach. If she had to choose, there was no doubt which she would have chosen. She would commit her life to Jesus even though not teaching would leave a void in her life. But she was blessed that her wise Mother Superior understood her need to teach and found this position.

As Sister Gabrielle’s eyes roamed the classroom, they stopped under Caitlin Callahan’s desk, at the girl’s almost knee-high white cotton socks and dark blue plaid skirt. That was what all the girls wore, along with the white button-down blouse, so it wasn’t Caitlin’s clothing that caught her attention. It was the girl’s carelessly spread knees showing the white cotton panties molded to her young vulva. The panties were so visible that the damp stain on the crotch showed. Sister Gabrielle made a mental note to talk to Caitlin after class. Not to scold her, but to remind her that girls needed to be more careful when wearing a skirt. Modesty was godly. And also to remind her of the importance of planning ahead, like using the toilet before class started. While staring, the dark spot grew a little larger. Sister Gabrielle’s eyes shot to Caitlin’s face. It was scrunched with her lips pressed together. The discussion would have to wait. Caitlin would need to leave the classroom as soon as the period ended.

Sister Gabrielle’s attention was diverted two desks to the right when Cara Doyle slapped both hands over her face. The pen locked between two fingers threatened to leave a mark on her forehead. Sister Gabrielle’s eyes automatically glanced under the young girl’s desk. Her legs were together and tilted to the side. Cara knew how to sit when wearing a skirt. Not all girls were as immodest as Caitlin Callahan.

Sister Gabrielle glanced at the big round clock high on the back wall, white with black numbers and arms, plain and unassuming like her. Had Cara already finished the exam? She couldn’t have. She was smart and an exceptional student, but she couldn’t have finished the test that quickly. What was the matter with the girl? Was she ill?

Sister Gabrielle placed her palms flat on the desk and leaned forward, causing the large cross hanging from her neck to sway from her body. She was rising from the chair when Cara’s hands slid off her face. Sister Gabrielle plopped back down, but her heart went out to the girl. Cara looked so sad. Was she having trouble with the test? It wasn’t that hard. Not for Cara. A refresh of grammar in preparation for the essay soon to be assigned. Material that she had previously learned. And knew.

But Cara didn’t return to taking the exam. She stared straight ahead. Sister Gabrielle automatically looked over her shoulder to see what the girl was looking at. The white board had nothing on it. She looked back at Cara who had a faraway look. Maybe she was thinking about a test question, trying to remember the answer. Sister Gabrielle’s hand flew to her chest and she suppressed her gasp when a single tear rolled down Cara’s right cheek. The girl swiped it away before returning to her exam.