Prequelle: It's Been A Long Time Coming

by A_Bowl_Of_Tomato_Soup

Summary:

In 1993, twenty-three year old Copia is determined to rise through the ranks of the clergy, earn some respect, and leave the Ministry behind him in search of better things. He doesn't have time for friends, nor does he especially want any (at least, that's what he tells himself). However, the arrival of affable, bubbly Charlotte Maguire, a new Sister of Sin, interrupts his plans, especially because she seems determined to get in his way by befriending him. At the insistence that improving his social skills will be his ticket out of here, the two begin to spend time together, and they both grow to realise that they feel curiously at home in each other's presence.

A prequel to my other fic ('I'm Coming Back For You, My Friend') with the same characters, exploring the early days of their friendship and growing infatuation.

Chapter 1

  There was somebody in here with him.

  They were unfamiliar footsteps, thought the young acolyte Copia, pricking his ears up to the sound but not raising his eyes from the book of scriptures in front of him. Somebody was slowly and deliberately meandering through the aisles of the library, combing the shelves looking for something. Though he wouldn’t claim to be able to recognise everyone’s gait in the Ministry, Copia was at least fairly confident in his ability to correctly place footsteps to those who came to the library most often: Sister Imperator tended to announce her presence with her fast, clipped high heels striking the ground, and Maestro Guillermo the librarian stooped around his domain on old, shuffling feet. Sometimes, when it was especially quiet and still, Copia thought he could pinpoint the identity of whoever was nearby by their breathing alone. Having spent his entire life here in the abbey, and seen many faces come and go, the ones who stuck around were easy enough to remember.

  He crossed one leg over the other and turned the page, trying to ignore the vibrations that spread along the carpeted floor as the person continued pacing. Sat where he was, in his private nook with his back to the room, facing the wall, the various other sensory inputs seemed to nag for his attention more than if he had simply faced the other way-- but he thought it was better this way; best to limit his distractions and to just focus on the text in front of him. He still had another chapter left to read today, and Peccatum et Miseriam was not known to be considered light reading.

  It was a woman, he deduced from her breathing and the lightness of her step. And she must not come in here often, he thought, because she had been wandering around for some time now through various sections. There was an easy-to-read map and guide to the different zones of the library near the entrance, as well as a newly installed computer which the members of the clergy could use to search up the location of specific books (but it was only 1993, and uploading the location of every single text was a slow and arduous process). The texts were all alphabetised, too. She must new, or just perusing, or perhaps just not very observant.

  Copia paused, feeling a panicky jump in his stomach as he remembered that he was probably the only other person in here, save for Guillermo somewhere. If this Sister was actually searching for something and not just having a light stroll through the stacks when she could have been outside on a gorgeous June afternoon like this, then she might be looking for someone to help her. Swallowing, he slunk down into his seat and tried to be very, very still.

  The footsteps came closer, and as they quickened up, Copia realised that he had been spotted.

  They stopped a foot or so behind his chair. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you,” she began in a whisper which Copia thought wasn’t quite hushed enough for a library. “Do you work here?”

  He turned to look over his shoulder at this young woman who seemed far too peppy and smiley for his liking. No, he had definitely not seen her here before, and she couldn’t have been here at the abbey for long since she didn’t even have her coif and veil yet, her neck and dark blonde hair uncovered. She did not seem to notice that he hadn’t answered her before she continued.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you if you’re busy working, I was just wondering if you could help me look for this book, please.”

  He swallowed. “Um…”

  “It’s called, On the Genealogy of Morals by Friedrich Nietzsche,” she explained, extending her hand towards him. In her grasp was a slip of paper which had the book’s title and author’s name. “I was recommended it by Sister Marjorie, as part of my adjustment process.”

  Copia’s eyes darted back up to this girl’s face from the slip of paper. She looked back at him with wide brown eyes and tilted her head with a nervous chuckle.

  “That’s,” he cleared his throat and began again. “That’s in the philosophy section.”

  “Okay.”

  “This is the theology section.”

  “Oh!” She laughed quietly to herself. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded and began to turn back to his work, half-expecting her to leave and head off in the right direction, but soon remembering, faced her again. “You don’t know where it is, do you?”

  “No,” she admitted with a slightly embarrassed shrug. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind showing me where it is, please? Just the philosophy section, you don’t even have to help me find the book itself, if you could just point me in the right direction.”

  Copia hesitated for a moment before giving his reply. He glanced back to his book, then back to the girl. She must have been, what, twenty, perhaps younger? He pretended not to notice that she was making a bit too much eye contact, or that her smile was a little bit too bright and rehearsed. Surely, she must have a guide or a mentoring Sister somewhere, he thought, but evidently not here.

  He held one finger up to her, asking her to wait a moment while he closed his book, placed it back inside his satchel, and gathered his things to go.

  She grinned as she jogged to walk by his side. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver. Sister Tara said she would help me look for it today, but then it turns out she had this all-day ritual thing that her and a bunch of the other Sisters have to attend today. I don’t think she was really allowed to tell me much about it; maybe I’ll find out later. Anyway, I did look for the librarian, but I couldn’t find him anywhere, I was about to give up and try again another day, but then I found you!”

  “Mhm,” Copia nodded.

  “Is it always quiet like this?” she asked, talking at normal volume now.

  “It’s the library…”

  “No, I mean around the abbey. It seemed busier for the first few days I was here, but it seems like half the people have gone now.”

  Copia steered them to the left towards the stairs. “Well, it’s the summer now,” he explained. “Some of them are on missionary work, but a lot of people go home or on vacation in the summer.”

  “There’s vacation?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes. Rest and relaxation play a pretty large part of our teachings, you know. Sloth, and everything.” He puffed as they climbed the stairs.

  “Whatever happened to ‘no rest for the wicked’?” She teased.

  Copia said nothing. Newcomers always said the same thing when they learned about the vacations.

  The girl didn’t seem deterred by his silence. “So, do you like working here?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, ah… it’s all right. All I’ve really known, I guess.” He left a pause for a little too long before he thought to ask her, “Are you local? From Arkham?”

  She seemed delighted to be asked the question. Or any question, for that matter. “No, I’m from a little further west. Dunwich, have you heard of it?”

  He shook his head. Was that even in Massachusetts?

  She chuckled. “No wonder, it’s very small. It’s funny, I was planning on maybe moving to Arkham for college—”

  “Oh, Miskatonic?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She looked down with a small smile. “No, Howard Phillips, you know, the local community college. But then I had a change of plans, and now I’m here!”

  “Nice. Good.” They reached the floor which held the books on philosophy, and he held open the door for her. She thanked him and stood looking around. Copia went to the guide and began searching, taking his time to catch his breath back. Nineteenth century… German… N for Nietzsche… There. He caught the girl’s attention and gestured her to follow him.

  She startled him a little when she whispered too close to his ear, “So, have you read this book before?” He flinched and nodded.

  “Is it any good? What’s it about?”

  He rolled his eyes, glad that she was walking behind him. “It’s about how the modern sense of morality- what is considered right and wrong- came to be, and how it developed over time.” He explained flatly.

  “Oh, wow. How did it develop?”

  Copia let out a puff of air. “Well, to cut a very long story short, before Christianity became a prominent religion with its own sense of morality, different societies used to have different values in what they considered to be moral and immoral. You’ll see when you read it, there was ‘Master morality’ and ‘Slave morality’, and they value different things.” He frowned. “It’s, uh, it’s a long story.”

  She hummed. “Sounds kind of hard.”

  “It’s not, really,” he said, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll manage.” He tried to think of something else to say to fix it, but couldn’t, and so he gave up and just hoped she hadn’t heard him. Fortunately, his eyes had just landed on the book. He plucked it from the shelf and practically threw it at her. This was going appallingly, and he wished she would just go away now.

  “Oh, thank you!” she beamed.

  “You’re worries. Ah! I mean, you’re welcome, no worries.” He began to squeeze past her, but she took it as a sign to turn and walk with him back down the aisle of books. She shook her head with a bright laugh and looked across at him with a really genuine smile, and Copia’s stomach felt like it had flipped inside out. Was she laughing with him?

  “I always mix up my words like that, too.” She shrugged. Copia got the impression that she probably didn’t and was just saying so to put him at ease.

  She wanted to put him at ease, he realised.

  He pondered this for a moment before his brain registered that she had asked him another question.

  “Sorry?”

  “Lunch! Did you want to get lunch together? You can tell me more about this book, and the Ministry, and—”

  “I’m not hungry.” He blurted out, before he realised that that probably wouldn’t deter her.

  “Oh! Well, would you mind sitting with me while I eat? I don’t really like eating alone.”

  He winced. He really thought she would have no problems finding someone else, anyone else to sit and eat with, why on earth would she want him to sit and eat with her?

  “Why?” he asked aloud to the air.

  The girl paused. “Oh, well, I guess I was always used to having mealtimes with my friends and family, so when I eat by myself I feel quite—”

  “No, I mean…why, um, why me?”

  She gave him a smile that seemed sympathetic and also which gave the impression that she saw the world in very simple terms indeed. “Well why not you? You helped me find my book, you answered my questions about it, and you seem pretty nice and interesting, and I would like to sit with you.” Her smile suddenly dropped as if taken aback by how forward that had been. “I mean, if you’re busy or you don’t want to, then that’s okay.”

 Copia was about to breathe a sigh of relief, glad to be free of her, but something told him to humour her, to sit with her at lunch. After all, she said she thought he was nice. And interesting. And that was something.

  He gave a stiff nod. “All right.”

  They walked to the front desk and Copia slid behind the counter to sign the book out (he had the authority to do so, plus Guillermo wasn’t about). He watched her hand as it moved across the page in a large and looping script. “Charlotte L. Maguire.”

  She smiled up at him. “That’s me.” She extended her hand to him, expecting him to shake it while still holding the pen between two fingers. He frowned at it for a moment, before lightly taking the pen back.

   “I’m Copia.”

   Charlotte dropped an eyebrow, still smiling. “Cooper?”

  “Copia.”

  “Ah,” she nodded. “Copia. Sorry, haven’t heard that name before. It’s nice to meet you.” She sounded like she really thought that.

   He just looked at her for a moment. “Okay.” He said. He moved towards the door. “Lunch is this way.”

Notes:

Hi there, thank you for reading the first chapter of my fic, I hope you are enjoying it so far. Just thought I should give a heads-up and say that they won't get into a relationship together in this fic, so if you'd rather read a story with romantic and smutty payoff, may I suggest you check out my other long Ghost fic with the same characters, 'I'm Coming Back For You, My Friend'. I just love writing about romantic longing and tension in this way, hence why I've gone back to write a fic of when they first meet.
All the best,
Tomato Soup x

Chapter 2

  Charlotte didn't feel too deterred by this guy-- Copia-- not taking an instant liking to her. At this point, she knew she couldn't really afford to let it get to her, but also because since leaving home eighteen months ago, she had more-or-less adjusted to the colder attitudes city-folks tended to have. They hadn't all been like that, and certainly most of the people she had spoken to so far at the abbey had been nice enough, if a little pleasantly surprised when Charlotte would first talk to them.

  She liked talking to people. New people. Although, as she had discovered, people generally didn’t like to approach other people and make the first move, and so she had quickly learned that if she wanted to make friends, it helped to not be afraid to put yourself out there. And really, everyone was just as nervous, and people aren’t really that scary deep down, so what was there to be afraid of, really? After a couple months living in Arkham, especially after taking a job on the cash register at the Dunkin' Donuts in Northside, Charlotte would say that she had this whole 'talking to strangers and making acquaintances' thing pretty well sorted. She found herself enjoying it when she built familiarity with her co-workers and the customers she would serve everyday, finding out more about them and their lives one small interaction at a time. 

  "I love this staircase," she told Copia now as she ran her hand along its smooth dark wood railing as they walked down towards the dining hall. "It must be so old."

  He nodded. "Yes, it is old."

  She turned her gaze upwards to the painted ceiling, admiring the frescos, how the light played with its details. "And they're so wonderful, too. I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at these. You know, when I first came along here I lost my footing going down these stairs because I was too busy looking up." She laughed.

  Again, he didn't say much. Never mind. Not everyone she came across would be a best friend. If they just ate lunch together this once, that would be fine, too.

  They entered the dining hall and lined up to collect their food. Charlotte smiled and said hello to each of the Sisters and Brothers working behind the counters as they loaded her plate with food, and she thanked them, and said that the food smelled good. Copia took his quickly and quietly. She led them straight towards the first half-empty table she saw, and greeted the people sitting there as she slid onto the bench. They smiled back politely, and turned back to their conversation.

  "Friends of yours?" Copia asked. She shook her head.

  "No, just saying hi."

  She knew what to do, in theory and somewhat in practise, too, to make the best impression she could. She always made sure that she looked nice, and smiled, and looked people in the eye; she complimented people when appropriate, and asked them questions. People liked to be asked questions, she believed, because in general people like to talk about themselves and feel listened to. And Charlotte really did listen the best she could in order to bring up details later and pleasantly surprise the new friend with how much she cared. Also, asking people for small favours seemed to work pretty well, because people liked to feel like they were helpful and like they had a positive impact on the world. Sometimes Charlotte didn't even need the directions she asked for; it was just a good way to break the ice.

  She had little doubt that she ever made a bad impression, per se. Maybe she was a little too eager sometimes, but there were worse qualities to have. However, at this point it began to feel a little bit like a lottery. Most of the time the people she spoke to were plenty nice, and happy to help out, but Charlotte couldn't help but notice that it was unlikely that they would see each other again except in passing. Sister Atifa and her had really hit it off at breakfast on her second day here, but then Atifa had said that she would be transferring to a different church in two days time. Another, Sister May, had shared Charlotte's love of music, but when Charlotte tried to meet up with her later on, she was always busy and would tell her maybe another time with a sorry look on her face.  

  Charlotte looked down at her plate in front of her and focused on twisting spaghetti neatly around her fork. She raised it to her mouth and looked at her lunchtime companion while he was occupied chasing a meatball around his plate, trying to spear it. He had mousy brown hair which flopped over his brow and darting, nervous eyes; the left eye was a strange shade of white contrasted to his other, green eye. She wanted to ask about it, but resisted and tried to determine how best to look at his face without making it seem like she was staring. He glanced up at her, and she smiled.

  "That reminds me of a song we used to sing at camp, about a runaway meatball," she said, gesturing to his plate. She smiled fondly, remembering, but Copia cocked his head to the side. "You don't know that song?"  

  "What song?"

  "The camp song, about the meatball. On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed." She sang it quietly. To her pleasant surprise, he blinked in recognition, and nodded. "You do know it! Imagine that, we never met each other before today, we grew up in different towns and different religions, and yet we sang the same camp songs. Just fancy!"

  "Yeah, just fancy..."

  She leaned her elbows on the table and shuffled closer. "So, you do summer camps for kids as well? I had no idea. What other songs did you sing? I'm guessing you had some about Satan and fewer ones about Jesus, right? Oh, did you make pentagrams out of sticks?"

  Copia squinted his eyes at her. "Did you guys make crosses out of sticks?"

  Charlotte dropped her smile and shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

  They ate in silence for a moment before he said, "It's fine, just maybe don't say dumb shit like that again around here."

  "I won't, never again. I'm so sorry."

  God, what a stupid mistake. She probably shouldn't try making jokes about this sort of stuff at all, but it was hard to judge on this sort of thing when so many people she had met already made light of things she would never dare joke about.

  She took a breath and tried a friendly, innocent smile. "Thank you for helping me find that book," she said once again. "I'm feeling much better prepared now. It's funny, I've never read any philosophy or big, important books like that before."

  "'s fine. Y'welcome." Copia muttered through his food. His plate was almost cleared already whilst Charlotte's was barely touched, but she had been doing most of the talking.

  "It was really nice of you to do that." She pressed on. "People here do seem nice. These two Brothers invited me along to a study group happening tomorrow out on the lawn, that was so thoughtful of them. I guess I do stick out a little bit as a newbie."

  He looked up at her from his plate and studied her for a moment. "Was that Brother James and Brother Zach?"

  "Yes."

  "Did they also call you 'Mary'?" he frowned.

  She started. “Yeah, they did. I did tell them my name is Charlotte.”

  Copia nodded and twisted his mouth into something resembling a wry smile. “Well, they don’t actually study, you should probably know. They just smoke weed and bitch about people. Zach likes to invite girls he thinks are hot.”

  She stopped chewing. “Oh.” She took a sip of water to help her swallow, and decided not to ponder on the ‘hot’ thing right now. “Oh, I do actually need to study. I’ve got tons to unlearn and read up on, according to Sister Marjorie. Wait, what’s ‘Mary’? Like, the Mary Jane?”

  “No.”

  “What does it mean, then?”

  He sighed pityingly. “He probably thinks you’re a goodie-two-shoes. You know. Virgin Mary.”

  Charlotte couldn't help but frown in distaste. "What would they call me if they thought I looked like a tart?"

  "A what?"

  "You know," she leaned in and whispered, "A slut?"

  "Maybe they would have added 'Magdelene' on the end." He smiled, and then stopped.

  She pushed a meatball around her plate with her fork, having lost her appetite. Copia was finishing up the rest of his food, and didn't seem to notice he had tomato sauce on his chin as he began to stand to leave. "Wait," Charlotte found herself saying. "Would you mind meeting me to study sometime?" He seemed harmless enough, she reasoned. Boys who knew a lot about books but got sauce on their chins and couldn't make eye contact didn't seem like the type to make her take substances or try to feel her up in a bush.

  "Um..." he paused, his satchel half-looped across his chest. "I'm not sure, I'm kinda... I'm sure you've got this. You can do it, and find someone else for help if you need it! I don't know if I've got time, I'm kinda..."

  She nodded, and gave him an understanding smile. "That's fine, I get it. Well, thank you for your help, once again, and for the heads-up."

  He gave her a nod in turn. "No problemo."

  She giggled, and waved him goodbye. "See you around, perhaps. It was nice to meet you, Copia."

  He raised his hand in a feeble wave, and gathered his tray and scurried off. Charlotte smiled, and turned to the girls to her left. "Mind if I join you?"

Notes:

Hiya, look who's settled and writing again! Hopefully I'll be able to write more often now. Hope you're all doing well and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it was short, but I just really wanted to get something out before I get busy again.
Goodnight,
Tomato Soup x

Chapter 3

  It was a Thursday evening, and Copia was sitting with Sister Imperator in her spacious office. Between them, on the desk, sat a pot of tea on a gilded tray, alongside two cups and saucers, a small jug of milk, sugar, and a selection of cookies. Sister always preferred tea in the evenings rather than coffee, especially after dinner, to help settle the stomach. Copia didn't see it that way, especially not this evening. The blend was off tonight, for one thing, and he couldn't help but grimace at the stronger, astringent taste, which did little to soothe the resentful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  "Ginger snap?" Sister offered. Copia shook his head.

  "No, thank you."

  She tilted her head and examined him. "Do you have some indigestion tonight, C? Dinner was quite rich, I found it repeated on me, too. Have a ginger snap, ginger is wonderful for settling the stomach."

  "No, thank you, Sister," he declined again, as politely as he felt he could. She narrowed her eyes.

  "Are you feeling all right? You seem rather irritable this evening. You have eaten dinner tonight, I hope?"

  "Not yet."

  "Well, that perhaps explains your mood," she declared, taking a sip of tea. "You always did get irritable when you were hungry. I hope you're taking care of yourself, you know. You can't rise to the challenges when you're out of sorts. None of us can."

  Copia suppressed a groan, reached for a cookie, and took a small bite. He turned his gaze away from the older woman and up towards the oil portraits of various bishops, cardinals, and Papas hanging on the walls. All severe, all serious, all sneering down at him from on high. He could feel how tightly he was clenching his jaw through his teeth, and tried to release a slow sigh to settle himself.

  "All right," said Sister Imperator, decidedly setting her cup down in its saucer. "Something is clearly on your mind tonight. Is there something you would like to talk about?" she asked pointedly.

  "Yeah," he replied, turning back to look at her. "Yeah, there is, actually. I got another email from Terzo today, telling me all about what he's doing on his placement; all the stuff he's learning, the people he's meeting, all that. He even managed to send some photos in his email, too. It sounds like he's having a whale of a time."

  Sister tilted her head as she listened. "It sounds like you miss him," she said, her voice softened with compassion. It stopped Copia in his tracks temporarily.

  "Well," he started again. "Yeah, sorta. But it's more than that! He got to leave and go on placement when he was twenty-two. I'm older than he was when he got to go to New Orleans to study over there, and I'm not even allowed to go along to meetings at the Silver Twilight Lodge here in Arkham."

  "You've met several members already-- that's more than can be said of your peers. Mr Carl Saltarian thought well of you, he said you've got real potential," Sister pointed out. "You're making connections, and you will move up in time."

  Copia frowned. "I just don't see why," he began "I can't go along and at least get a foot in the door. I met up with Terzo two months ago in Providence, and I was sure he was going to introduce me to some of the Elders there, but no, nothing. We didn't even meet at the Ministry there, we just met for lunch in the city. It's like I'm tainted or something, like I'm not allowed to talk to anyone important in case I give a bad impression of how we're running over here."

  Sister listened and poured herself some more tea. Her red, painted fingernails glinted in the evening sunlight as she stirred the teaspoon meditatively. "You're not tainted," she sighed. "You are doing very well. And really, I think that you know that you're doing well. You don't need me to tell you that you're hardworking, and knowledgeable, and dedicated. I know that you have your heart set on becoming a cardinal by the time you’re forty—”

  “Thirty-five,” he interrupted, then swallowed. “If I can.”

  Sister regarded him seriously. “Twelve years to become a cardinal; it’s very ambitious, C. And it is good to aim high, but most cardinals don’t earn their position before they are forty. There is no rush.”

  Copia exhaled sharply through his nose and frowned. The older woman fixed him a matronly smile.

  “You’re doing fine. I believe in you—the Clergy believes in you, more broadly, I mean. We just don’t want you to burn yourself out.”

  “Then what can I do in the meantime?” he demanded. “What am I not doing?”

  “You’re doing plenty.”

  “Then why aren’t I moving forward? Why do I feel so stuck? Terzo just got to rise and rise, and got all these amazing opportunities that I didn't, even though we're both--!” Copia stopped himself, but the damage had already been done.

  Sister Imperator frowned, a mournful yet indignant sort of frown. “It’s different for him, you know it is.”

  Copia sat for a moment and rested his cheek on his palm. “Sorry," he said. He tried again, softer this time. "I'm sorry. It's just, this can't be for nothing, right?" He gestured to his white eye. "It's got to mean something, at least."

  Sister looked at his face closely for some time, before giving a shrug and a small, rather sad-looking smile. "Perhaps. There are just some things we cannot know. But one thing I do know is that envy is the sin which brings no pleasure. There's no point resenting Terzo's success, or running to me and crying 'it's not fair'. Coveting his success is fine, so long as it inspires you to improve yourself. You need to try and emulate him if you want the same things he has achieved."

  Reluctantly, Copia tuned in to listen. "All right. So I need to be more like him, huh?"

  "Well, not exactly like him," Sister admitted. "When the Clergy recommends members of the congregation to go on placements, their social skills are a large determining factor. Part of Terzo’s success in moving forward, asides from his direct tie to the bloodline, was that he was good at connecting with people. He knew everybody, and made an effort to know them. That is a major part of becoming a leader, to know those around you.”

  "Oh, he connects with people all right..." Copia muttered.

  "What was that?"

  “Nothing, nothing. Sorry. Well, I do know people here.”

  “Really!" She exclaimed. "How well?”

   Copia shrugged. “Well enough.”

  “Well enough,” Sister leaned towards him “Is not enough for a cardinal. How are the congregation supposed to put their faith in you if they hardly know you, and you them? Put your faith in the people around you first.”

  He kicked the leg of his chair absent-mindedly. “I just can’t talk to people like how Terzo does. I don’t have that talent.”

  Sister looked down into her cup for a moment, as if what she wanted to say might sit at the bottom. "I know," she began gently. "I know you haven't always found it easy to make friends. Children can be cruel, and it can really knock one's confidence, even into adulthood. A lot in life is out of our control, but I would encourage you to focus on what is within your control. Have a think about what you can do or change to make things easier for yourself."

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure how to interpret the strange, almost painful feeling in his chest whenever she would speak to him so personally like this. "Any ideas, Sister?"

  "Well," she said, looking up and seeming to snap out of her sentimental mood. Back to Sister Imperator. "Such as not sitting alone and listening to that CD Walkman during meals. It makes you look unapproachable, and rude, moreover. It does you no favours. All these things are taken into consideration when deciding who to recommend for positions such as you want."

  Copia wouldn't consider himself a rude person. He didn't go out of his way to talk to people unnecessarily (unlike that girl the other day), and in some cases he did actively try not to make friends, but he always did his best to stop short of being rude. Uptight, tense, and mildly misanthropic, yes, but never hostile. What was he supposed to say, 'Don't talk to me'? He was hardly like Secondo Emeritus.

  Sister must have seen him frown, for she pressed on. "You can't think people are simply born with the talent for things, like playing piano, without any effort. Social skills, like any skill, requires practise. Try. Mix it up with others. Who knows, you might even enjoy it."

  Copia looked at her, and felt his stomach twisting at the idea of 'mixing it up', his brain short-circuiting with half-baked reasons why he couldn't. He had too much that he wanted to say, and so resigned himself to say nothing. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Okay…” he groaned at last.

  "So," Sister Imperator smiled like a cat with a cornered mouse. "You're prepared to give it a go."

  "I guess I have to be..."

  She fixed him a stern and motherly look. "You won't find it any easier with that attitude," she chastised.

  He fixed his face and tried again. "I'll give it a try. Just don't expect me to become a social butterfly or anything."

  "All right. Let's meet again in a few weeks to see how it's going. You never know, you might do so well that you'll be able to go on a placement by next summer. Now, you'd better get going before the kitchens close. Do get something to eat, C, you know I worry when you don't eat. Oh, and don't listen to that Walkman in the dining hall!"

  "All right..." he said, gathering his things to go. He nodded to her and headed for the door.

  Sister Imperator called out to him as he left, "We'll talk soon!"

  As the heavy door closed behind him, Copia sighed and felt his entire body slump with exhaustion. He leant against the wall for a moment and closed his eyes, before fishing his Walkman and headphones out of his pocket and turning to walk to the dining hall. Sister might keep an eye out for him listening to music during meals, but she didn't say he couldn't listen to it while he walked.

Notes:

Hi all, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm settling into a good writing routine now (because I'm unemployed whoops), so you can expect fairly regular updates. I'm considering either weekly or once-every-two-weeks for new chapters.
Hope you're all doing ok.
See you around,
Tomato Soup

Chapter 4

  It was a Thursday evening and still hot in the kitchens, even though Charlotte and the other Siblings on duty were beginning to wind down after the dinner rush. Charlotte was glad they didn't have to wear their headdresses while they worked in here, because she couldn't imagine how much worse it must be to handle the heat when serving from the big, hot pans of food on top of the hot plates, underneath the hot lights to make sure the food stayed as hot as possible for as long as possible with her head and neck covered. Her hair was tied in a sensible bun underneath a hairnet, like the other girls, but they still had to wear their long, black habits underneath their black aprons. She thought the long skirts offered plenty of movement when she walked around the abbey most days, but working in the kitchens this evening had proved them to be a borderline hazard. They got caught in oven doors, got splattered with hot oil from the frier, or stood on or caught underfoot; it was remarkable that one hadn't caught fire or caused a serious injury, or at least a mess if one of them tripped while carrying a massive, hot tin of macaroni cheese.

  All of Charlotte's training shifts had been pretty intense so far, as she was told that she would be shown how everything was supposed to be done on her very first try, so that in a few days time when she would be working again she wouldn't need to be told where certain things were, or how such-and-such was supposed to be done. It had been worse when she had been on a gardening shift two days ago in the blistering sun, but even though she was still sore and her brow was still pink, today in the kitchens wasn't going too badly at all. She thought it was all quite self-explanatory, and there was plenty that was done in a similar way to how things were done when she worked at Dunkin' Donuts. The storeroom was organised in a similar way, the ovens were the same make and type, the cleaning closet had all the same equipment and tools, and everything had the same flow.

  "Take this through to pot-wash," Sister Lilith called out, loading an empty tray onto the packed trolly. It still had baked-on melted cheese around the edges, browned and tasty, and Charlotte's stomach rumbled as she took the trolley. They had been serving fried chicken, macaroni cheese, and greens tonight, with warm apple pie and vanilla ice cream for desert, and even though she had made sure to eat plenty beforehand, she had been on her feet for nearly five hours, and was beginning to get fatigued. She guided the heavy trolley through the back passageways until she got to the pot-wash room. If Charlotte was glad of one thing tonight, it was that she had been working under the dry heat of the kitchens and canteen, and not in the wet heat of the steamy pot-wash.

  "Hi again," she called to Sister Amanda and Brother Cain as she began to hand them items to load into the dishwasher. They soon made light work of it, and Charlotte began to load a tray of steaming hot clean plates and glasses onto the trolley to take out to the main hall.

  "You don't need to take those out now," Cain told her, still working away. "We stop serving food to eat in at eight, it's just take-out containers now. We stop serving at eight-thirty, and then clean-up begins."

  "Right, thanks," Charlotte nodded and placed the tray back before heading back to her work station to see what else needed doing. 

  It was much quieter in the dining hall now, with only a handful of people sat finishing their meals. Charlotte scanned the tables to see if they needed clearing or wiping, but she thought they looked fine for now. Since everyone at the abbey was expected to work all kinds of shifts on a rota, people were pretty respectful when it came to tidying after themselves, since they knew what a pain it was to clear a huge mess left by someone else. She saw the two other young women she had been working with behind the counters leaning on the backboard talking, and they smiled at her as she joined them.

  "All right Charlotte?" Sister Evie asked her. "How are you finding it?" 

  She stretched her back and sighed. "Not too bad, thanks. Getting a little tired, but I've worked longer than three-til-nine before."

  "Yeah, but sometimes we don't get out of here until ten," groaned Sister Marta, rolling her deep brown eyes.

  "Oh, don't I know it," Charlotte smiled in solidarity. "It's like that in every customer service job."

  Evie cocked her head. "Where have you worked before?" She had reddish hair which looked like a deeper auburn under her black hairnet.

  "Well, I had a summer job at the grocery store in my hometown when I was younger," Charlotte said. "Then I got a job at Dunkin' when I moved to Arkham."

  The girls hummed, before Marta asked, "Where's your hometown?" Marta had told her earlier that her family was Mexican-American and lived just outside of Boston. Evie hadn't said where she was from, but Charlotte suspected she was also from Arkham.

  "Dunwich," Charlotte told them, and smiled at the blank looks on their faces. "It's this really small town in north-central Massachusetts, not far from Aylesbury. Nobody ever goes there, it's a bit of a ghost-town. Things got worse when the farms all went bust a few years ago in '86, a lot of families left and farms and businesses were just abandoned; but it was never a town that got many visitors to begin with. Some say it's a bit haunted," she grinned.

  Marta and Evie looked at her keenly. "Really?"

  "Oh yeah," she went on. "Well, there aren't many people there-- mostly older folks, anyway, and they all tend to keep to themselves-- and there are a lot of empty buildings just falling down. There is this ancient stone circle up on one of the hills people say used to be used for Devil worship, and apparently something awful happened in the town in the twenties or thirties, but nobody who was alive then likes to talk about it."

  "Woah," Evie whistled. "Sounds pretty spooky. What was it like growing up there? Was it lonely?"

  Charlotte paused, remembering. "At times, I suppose," she began carefully. "But I guess it was pretty insular. Most of village life is centred around the church, and if you were in the group it was fine because people tended to look out for each other, but if you weren't in the group-- like there was this family of Jews I knew, and they didn't go to church, of course-- and I guess they were always seen as outsiders. But even if you just didn't really believe in God, or only went at Christmas or Easter, or you just didn't fit in somehow; people tended to treat you different."

  The girls looked at her sadly. Evie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "That sucks, I'm so sorry people treated you like that."

  Charlotte blinked in confusion. "Thank you, but I did go to church; every week, in fact. I was in the choir and everything."

  "Oh." Evie retracted her hand.

  "But of course it was still bad!" Charlotte said hurriedly. "Just because I was treated okay for being in the group doesn't mean it was all right for people to act that way, not at all!"

  "Girls!" Sister Lilith had turned the corner and caught them in the middle of their talk. She placed her hands on her hips. "There's time to sit and chat after your shift! Come on, now. Marta, you come to the kitchens with me."

  They all sighed and straightened up. Marta rolled her eyes as she sloped off. "Talk to you later."

  Charlotte and Evie busied themselves by wiping the counters and sweeping the floors, continuing their conversation all the while.

  "So where are you from, Evie?"

  "Arkham," she replied. "My parents are Satanists too, so they were really pleased when I told them I wanted to become a Sister here. It must be pretty different for you here; it sounds like your home town was pretty conservative."

  "Yeah, being Catholic in Dunwich is like one step below being Amish," Charlotte said, deciding that making light of her upbringing and distancing herself from it might be the way to go with making friends. "My grandmother had two types of holy water, one for everyday use, and one for special occasions!"

  Evie snorted. "That's crazy. Was your family strict and everything?"

  She paused. She hadn't thought of her parents as very strict growing up, but moving in with her Aunt Lisa in Arkham and talking to more young people made her reconsider. "I guess they were, a little. This one time I got into some trouble after my mom had gone through my room cleaning and 'found something I shouldn't have because they're bad for me'."

  "Ooh, what was it? Cigarettes?"

  Charlotte shook her head and feigned a small laugh. "No. I thought she'd found my candy stash because it was Lent and I'd said that I'd given up my favourite snacks, but nope. She found my box of tampons and made me throw them out."

  Evie stopped spraying the counter and laughed. "Holy shit, that's madness! Did she think they'd make you not a virgin anymore?"

  "Something like that, I guess..."

  "That's so weird," Evie wrinkled her nose up. "Man, can you imagine if dicks were like tampons? If they absorbed? That would be so gross."

  Charlotte shuddered and laughed uncomfortably, shaking her head. She bent down to sweep the dust pile she'd made into the pan. 

  "So, sorry if this is personal and all-- I just find it so interesting," Evie began. Charlotte's throat felt dry. "But were you not allowed to date when you lived at home?"

  She shook her head and looked down at the pan and brush. "No, not really. I've never had a boyfriend or anything." She answered. She thought she heard Evie gasp softly, perhaps, or perhaps she imagined it, but she rushed to add, "But I have been kissed before, of course. Not totally sheltered."

  But that had only been once, during a short-lived and lacklustre game of 'spin the bottle' at a friend's fourteenth birthday party. His name had been David and his breath had smelled of Cheetos, and it wasn't so much kissing as him pushing his mouth roughly and squarely against hers. It hadn't been very inspiring and Charlotte felt like she wasn't missing out on much if that was what kissing was supposedly like.

  "Right," Evie chuckled. "But I'm guessing you haven't done more than kiss?" 

  Charlotte got off the floor and went to empty the pan into the trash can. Her skin felt prickly. "No."

  Evie tilted her head and looked at Charlotte in a way that one might look at a baby chick. "Aw. Well hey, don't worry too much about it the first time you have sex: it probably won't be fantastic, but that's fine! Don't feel pressured that it has to be amazing and all that. Sometimes it just helps to rip the Band-Aid off, take the plunge, all that."

  Charlotte felt herself frowning in confusion. "So, to just get it over with?"

  "Yeah, it gets better the more you do it," Evie paused and stated, "But obviously take it at your own pace, and don't feel like you have to do anything you don't want to, of course."

  "No, of course," Charlotte gave a tight smile. Her insides felt like they were squirming uncomfortably, twisting and bunching in knots. She tried to swallow, and said, "I'm just going to put these back in the supply closet, I'll be right back."

  "Sure."

  She took her time making her way to the supply closet, taking a few deep breaths and wondering just what was the matter with her. Marta called out a greeting to her, but Charlotte didn't say anything back. We're fine,  she told herself. What's the matter? We're just talking. It's normal. Stop being a prude. We're fine. She replaced the dustpan and brush, rolled her shoulders back, smiled, and walked back out to where she'd left off.

  Evie had finished cleaning the countertops, and had gone over to the main seating area where someone had left their tray behind to tidy it up. Charlotte was glad for the pause in the conversation, and took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was too tired to be thinking about what she should or shouldn't be doing or feeling when it came to... that. 

  "Are you still serving food?" A voice asked from the other side of the counter.

  Charlotte opened her eyes and looked down at her watch and then to the speaker. It was that guy from the other day, the one in the library with the white eye who helped her find her book. She smiled. "Hi, yeah we're still serving, but just to take away."

  He had his eyes looking down at the food on the hot plates, but looked up at her face when he heard her voice. He had one earbud in, the other dangling from its wire, and he hurriedly removed them both and stuffed them into his pocket. He blinked a couple times.

  "Copia, right?" Charlotte asked gently, hoping she remembered it right. To her relief, Copia nodded.

  "And you're Charlotte," he gestured at her and gave a small, awkward smile. She smiled back in turn.

  "Yeah!" She reached for a take-out box and began to serve him his food. "How are you doing?"

  He looked around him and gave a tight nod. "Surviving." He paused for a moment, tapping his fingers on the counter anxiously before Charlotte heard him ask her, "And how are you?"

  She looked up at him and felt the knot in her stomach loosen, just a bit. "I'm surviving, too," she admitted.

  Copia hummed. Charlotte went back to loading mac and cheese into the box. "The kitchen shift is hard. Glad you're, um, managing okay," he said.

  "Thank you," she said gratefully. "It hasn't been too bad. Have you been working late? Studying in the library again?"

  "Uh... Yeah, earlier. Then I had a meeting."

  She raised her eyebrows and smiled encouragingly. "That sounds big. Good meeting?"

  Copia frowned and gestured with his hand, so-so. Charlotte hummed.

  "Ah, I'm sorry about that. Well, nothing that a nice meal can't fix! Oh, and did you want some pie? It's the last slice. Go on..."

  He smiled, showing a little flash of teeth for the first time. "Oh, okay then," he relented. She chuckled as she added it to the little compartment for dessert, and went to close the lid. She handed him the box, and he took it carefully from her hands and thanked her. He stood around for a couple more moments. Charlotte tilted her head at him and smiled, puzzled.

  "Can I get you anything else?"

  Copia shook his head, but didn't move or say anything for a moment. Charlotte's face felt warm, standing in front of the hot counter, and she tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear and back into the hair net as subtly as she could.

  He cleared his throat. "Um. How are you getting on with the book?"

  "Oh! Not very well, sorry. I keep trying to read a bit before bed, but it just sends me to sleep. I'll never get through it at this rate!" She laughed. Evie walked back behind the counter, cleaning cloth in hand, and she glanced at them both curiously before wandering to the nearby sink to rinse it out. "I think your help was all for nothing, sorry."

 Copia's eyes followed Evie's movements carefully, before he looked back at Charlotte. "Don't be sorry," he drummed his fingers on the lid of his take-out box and looked like he was struggling to voice something. Eventually he said quietly, "Well, um... If you wanted to meet up and talk about it sometime, we could do that, if you still wanted."

  Charlotte smiled patiently as he spoke, and then nodded. "I would like that. Thank you."

  He seemed like he hadn't heard her for a second, before he nodded in acknowledgement. He gave a small smile. "All right. I'll, uh, see you around sometime, then, I guess..."

  The door to the kitchens opened behind Charlotte, and Marta and Sister Lilith came out. Charlotte glanced behind her and then turned to Copia. "See you around. I'd better get back to work."

  "Yes, yes. Okay. See you."

  "Bye!"

  And then he turned and walked out of the hall, but not before throwing a glance back at her as he left. She chuckled to herself at his odd but somehow endearing manner.

  As Charlotte and the other girls got back to work, Evie remarked to the group, "I think that's the most I've ever heard that guy talk."

  Marta agreed. Charlotte wondered what they thought of Copia, and so asked them if they knew him well at all.

  "Well, not personally, but everyone knows of him," said Evie cryptically.

  "What do you mean?" asked Charlotte. He seemed very unassuming to her, like he kept out of people's way. "Because of his strange eye?"

  Both Marta and Evie looked at her. "So you know about the eye, then?" said Marta. Charlotte shrugged.

  "Well, yes, it's plain on his face. Seems sort of rude though, to just know him as the guy with the strange eyes."

  "Not, not like that," Evie replied. She leaned in closer and whispered, "That white eye is special, basically. It means he's destined for big things, apparently. And he acts like it, too; he basically never speaks to anyone, he probably thinks he's above all that."

  Charlotte couldn't help but frown. "I don't think so. I think he seems okay. Is that true, Marta?"

  Marta shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I think he's not a bad guy. He's a loner, sure, but he's not an asshole."

  "And he's been pretty nice to me. He helped me look for this book the other day, and he asked if I'd like to talk about it sometime-- that's what we were talking about just now." Charlotte added. Evie smirked.

  "Maybe he finds you cute."

  "Oh, don't be silly!" Charlotte blushed. She glanced at her watch, wondering how much more teasing and probing she'd have to put up with before she could go and collapse into her small twin-bed. She reached to grab the empty tray which had held the last slice of apple pie, and went to carry it to the pot-wash room, shaking her head at Evie's suggestion all the while.

  

Chapter 5

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Sup                           

21:37 June 28 1993

Looks cool over there, don't work yourself too hard though, dickhead :p

Not much to report from here. Nihil still being a cunt. Don't see how I'm supposed to move up and keep out his way at the same time. How much ass-kissing are you having to do in Providence?

Btw, spoke to Sister about how I can go on a placement like yours, she says I need to be less of a loner and try and talk to people. Any tips? I helped a new girl find a book in the library the other day and bumped into her again tonight in the dining hall. Just about managed to ask if she wants to meet to talk about the book sometime. She's new and clearly clueless about this shit, so. That's a start, right? :/

C

---

From: [email protected] 

To: [email protected] 

Subject: Sup

22:01 June 28 1993

Lol, I'll try ;) DW a lot of ass-kissing over here too. You get used to it.

Aw, cute of you to help the girl find her book, you always did have a type. Kudos on asking her out to study, tho if you want to get on her good side don't call her 'clueless about this shit'. What's she like, tho? Does she have glasses like that girl you dated for two whole weeks? What was her name, Anna? Annabeth? Annabell? Whatever.

Tips for talking to people: just relax and be yourself. Cliche, I know, but remember most people are ok. Try and match how people talk to you, but not too much. Idk, tired from today, will think of more tips tomorrow.

Haven't heard much about Sebastian lately, what's up?

GTG soon, early start tomorrow. Wanna call tomorrow? 8?

T

---

From: [email protected] 

To: [email protected] 

Subject: Sup

22:11 June 28 1993

Ok 1. She's not my type, 2. I didn't 'ask her out' to study, I'm just doing us both a favour, and 3. Annalise and I went out for three, nearly four weeks, asshole.

Speaking of things ending, Sebastian and I aren't seeing each other anymore. He said things felt weird the last time he came over, so. It's fine.

Call you at 8.

C

Chapter 6

  Charlotte made her way through the dormitory corridor, down the carpeted staircase, and along through the concourse on her way to the library to meet with Copia for their study session. It was already beginning to feel familiar and comfortable to walk these halls, and yet the graceful stone arches and tall windows made her heart soar just as much as they did the first time she had visited the Ministry almost a year ago.

  After living with her for a few weeks before she found work, Lisa was getting worried about her niece, how she rarely left the house and was often in a low mood. When asked about it, Charlotte would simply say she was tired, or didn't feel like going out, but it was more so that Arkham felt so cold and large. It felt like trying to make friends here was impossible, with everyone being so spread out and in their own worlds, that she just decided to retreat into hers. Staying in. Watching TV, but not paying attention to it.

  This wouldn't do, said Lisa as she tossed Charlotte's denim jacket to her one day. She'd practically pushed her out the door, and had first taken her to Bayfriar Gardens in the affluent French Hill neighbourhood, where they got coffee and sat at a little outdoor table, people-watching. The next Saturday they had gone to browse the market stalls in Independence Square, Lisa encouraging Charlotte to smell the essential oils, to look to find her name on a key-chain, and buying her a pretzel; the next week they had gone on a historic walking tour of Arkham, the ones for tourists, that went from the river docks in the old merchant district all the way to Hangman's Hill in Uptown; another time they had gone for a picnic and a walk around Miskatonic University.

  And then one day, Lisa had taken Charlotte on a trip a little out of town to visit an abbey. It was west of Arkham, out where it seemed the wilderness lay just ahead, where hills rose steeply over forested valleys which looked like they might never have been touched by an axe. Out of the city they passed only a few small, moss-covered buildings which looked near-abandoned in the glens, before plumbing into deep dark woods like those in a fairy tale, where the trees were almost unnaturally tall and thick and dark, and where silence pressed heavily all around them. After Lisa barely registered the small sign just in time, they turned down a lane, and before them the path opened up to reveal a towering structure, its bright sandstone making it appear to glow in the strange gloom of the woods.

  The Ministry was one of Arkham's oldest buildings, their tour guide Sister Agatha had told the group as she led them through the halls. To outsiders it had appeared to exist as a simple and isolated abbey for some time and was left to practise in peace. Only more recently, however, with modern attitudes changing so, had the abbey decided to be open about its Satanic faith; and in an attempt to improve relations with the people of the wider Miskatonic Valley (and to help raise funds) they had begun to hold pre-booked tours for visitors to view the historic buildings, meet the Siblings of Sin who worked and lived there, and to learn more about their practices and beliefs. The immense structure was certainly impressive, with its beautiful Gothic revival style arches, long halls with vaulted ceilings, and stained-glass windows, and apparently it was debated whether this Satanic Ministry or Arkham's South Church was the more impressive place of worship in the area. The grounds also featured a lake and picturesque gardens.

  Charlotte's memories of when she first stepped into the library on the tour came back to her now as she pushed open the door. The towering bookcases holding leather-bound tomes, the smell of old paper, the long oak tables at which sat a few studious Siblings-- it was a phenomenal library, spanning several floors, and housing its Special Collections in the basement. Charlotte's tour group had been shown a beautiful illuminated manuscript, a missal of Satanic verses from fourteenth-century Germany, but unfortunately their seventeenth-century French edition of the infamous Necronomicon was currently on loan to Miskatonic University's Orne Library, but their guide had impressed on them that the marvellous text had to be seen to be believed.

  She hadn't been able to explain the strange sense of peace and familiarity that washed over her when she had been exploring the abbey. Perhaps it was a strange mix of the building looking like a traditional cathedral (at least on first appearance), and the robes the Siblings wore looking like traditional clergy garb, and the same reverence of ritual that she'd associated with her former faith, contrasted with the lack of shame and dogma. No commandments, or punishments, or 'thou shalt not's. It had all the beauty of what she had loved about attending church before, from the high arched windows which allowed light to flood into the vast hall, to the beauty of community and acceptance. Everyone she had spoken to at the Ministry was kind, welcoming, helpful, and they didn't seem to judge any of the visitors, whom they must have known would have been sceptical of their practise, but who all came away at the end with a better understanding and less fear of this group.

  After perusing their small gift shop, she had taken a flyer on her way out and looked at it every so often over the following weeks. The memory of her brief visit seemed insistent in her mind, as if lingering in her peripheral vision, never to be entirely forgotten or ignored. Was this a calling? Charlotte turned the question over and over again in her head. She wanted what those Sisters had, to be so carefree and blissful, like they didn't have anything in the world that worried them. Voicing these thoughts to Lisa later, telling her that she didn't want to apply to Howard Phillips Community College anymore, that she wanted to go back to the Ministry, had been frightening, even though Lisa was one of the most open-minded people she knew. Her aunt had reassured Charlotte that she wanted her to be happy and well, and that she could do anything she wanted, but she expressed concern with how quickly she had changed her mind; she encouraged her to wait a while, to defer her offer to Howard Phillips until the next fall, and if then she was still sure that this was what she wanted, she would support her niece.

  Charlotte sat down at one of the nearest tables to the door so she would spot Copia when he walked in. There was another young man sat further along writing, but he didn't seem to notice her, and so she decided not to disturb him. She took out her copy of the Nietzsche to try to read while she waited, but had barely started when the door opened and she saw it was him. She waved as he walked over, but he didn't sit down.

  "Hi," she said, smiling up at him. "Hope I'm not too early."

  Copia shook his head curtly, still standing. "No, it's fine." The leather strap of his satchel crossed over his chest was clasped tightly in his gloved hands, as if it were a life ring. He seemed to be avoiding looking at the man sitting further along the table.

  Charlotte was puzzled. "Shall we sit here?" she asked. "Or we could sit somewhere else, I really don't mind." 

  Copia's eyes drifted slightly to the man sitting further along the table, and Charlotte couldn't help but glance over. The young man was tall with wavy dark hair and deep brown eyes which were fixed on Copia. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Copia spoke. "If you don't mind. Yeah, let's... let's sit somewhere else."

  "All right," she said, rising from her seat and grabbing her things. As they walked further into the hall and found a suitable spot, she tried to remember what she had read, but found she was distracted by her companion's discomfort.

  "So, I read some more of the book," she smiled, holding it up proudly in front of her.

  Copia raised his eyebrows across the table from her, intrigued. "Oh yeah?"

  "Yeah, I finished the editor's introduction."

  If Copia found that unremarkable, at least he did a decent job of hiding it. "Okie dokie. That's a... a good start."

  Charlotte couldn't help but smile. "I'm a slow reader, sorry."

  "No, no, that's fine," he said. "Nothing wrong with that. So, um, what did you think of it so far?"

  She paused for a moment, thinking. "It sounds like whatever Nietzsche talks about in the book was pretty controversial," she began. She saw Copia was still looking at her, waiting for her to continue. "Like, he flips the idea of morality on its head and says that it all comes from people, and not from God or anywhere else."

  "And?" Copia prompted.

  She swallowed, trying to remember what she'd read and understood it as. "And... and because people think differently, there are different ideas of what's right and wrong?" she tried.

  Copia tilted his head. "Yeah," he began tentatively. "Sorta. More like, as different groups of people have different relations to power, they come up with their own ideas of what is good or bad-- or good and evil, because that's a different thing. 'Bad' and 'evil' don't mean the same thing in this book."

  Charlotte furrowed her brow, listening. "Right..."

  He went on, "And what you're told is good or bad, or good or evil, affects how you feel, right? Like, you do something you're told you shouldn't do and you feel bad about it, yeah?"

  "Yeah." 

  "Right. So, this book has three essays in it, and they sort of pick apart these ideas," he explained. "You know, 'what did "good" used to mean? How did they define what was a "good" quality and a "bad" quality?', 'what did this all mean to this other group of people, what did they do about it?', 'why did these ideas change?' and 'is this a good way of living?'" 

  Charlotte blinked, reeling a bit. "Wow. Deep stuff."

  Copia nodded, almost as if he felt sorry for talking so much. "Yeah, it's ah... it was a pretty big deal." He nodded again, looking down at the book placed in front of her, before he cleared his throat. "It's, um... It's not about telling you what to think," he began carefully. "Like, we don't want to tell you what you should think or believe just because we do. It's about... it's all about questioning things, thinking about things, so you can decide what you think and do, and stuff. Okay?"

  "Okay," she nodded. "So, learning to think for myself."

  "Exactly, yes." He exhaled, looking relieved that she'd summarised it well. He cleared his throat and looked away, reaching for his satchel. "I don't really know how much I can help if you haven't read much of it yet, so maybe..."

  Charlotte swallowed. "I'm sorry. I should have read it." She wiped her palms on her thighs and thought about what a waste of time this was. She was about to stand up and ask him if they could re-arrange to do this at another time once she'd read more, when he spoke.

  "You could read it now, I guess," he mused, producing a notebook and pen followed by a much thicker, denser looking book. "I need to stay and do some work here anyway, so."

  She blinked. "So, we both sit here, and I read my book while you read yours?" That didn't sound like what she had thought this would be. They might as well have been working individually on different planets if they were just going to sit in silence together.

  He nodded. 

  Come on, she paused. Try new things, remember? What's the harm? "Okay," she said, slowly. "But would you mind if I ask you questions about parts I don't understand."

  "Sure."

  "'Sure' you would mind, or you wouldn't mind?"

  "It would be fine," he replied. "I agreed to help you with it."

  "All right," she smiled. "Thanks."

  So they sat across from one another, Charlotte doing her best to make her way through the text, while Copia read from his own book and wrote notes. Nietzsche wrote in a strange way, or maybe it was because it was translated from German. Slowly, slowly she read over the first few pages, but none of it made much sense or really meant anything to her. She looked across to Copia, who seemed like he wouldn't be distracted from his book if a brick fell on his head. She watched his hands, clothed in white cotton gloves, as he flipped the page and continued writing, and sighed, wondering how she was supposed to ask for his help like this when she didn't understand a single word.

  She looked back to the page, scanning it for a word that wouldn't make her look too stupid to ask the meaning of. She whispered, "What does 'Kantian' mean?"

  "Hm?"

  "'Kantian'," she repeated. "Something about a 'Kantian article'."

  "Can you show me the page?"

  Charlotte passed the book to him and pointed. "Ah," said Copia. "Kant was another philosopher. Pretty important one, too."

  She suppressed a groan. "Don't tell me I have to read him, too?"

  He shook his head and read the page again. "Nah, it doesn't really matter here. The more important part on this page," he pointed a little further down. "Is here. 'Under what conditions did Man invent for himself those judgements of values, 'Good' and 'Evil'? And what intrinsic value do they possess in themselves? Have they up to the present hindered or advanced human well-being?'" He read aloud. "That's the question he wants to answer."

  She looked at where he pointed and read it herself, and it clicked. "Oh, yeah," she smiled. "Thank you."

  "It's all right, you would have got to that part soon. Though he does, ah, waffle on a bit, heh," Copia said, gesturing with his hand.

  "Thank God," Charlotte chuckled. "I thought it was just me."

  "No, no," he smiled back.

  They went back to their own tasks, but soon she was struggling again, but she tried to push through it now, re-reading the sentences to try and understand better, or moving on to the next one which often explained what was meant earlier. Still, every so often she would ask Copia if she'd read it right, and she would pass him the book and point to where she had got stuck. They would place the book sideways between them on the table so they could both crane their necks to read, and talk quietly about what it meant. After about the seventh time of them doing this, Charlotte got out of her seat and walked around the table to stand next to Copia to show him the passage, and after deliberating for a moment, decided it would probably be easiest to just sit next to him.

  This wasn't going too badly, she thought to herself after a few minutes of this. She'd read more today than she had in a while, and to his credit Copia was pretty patient with her interrupting him every few minutes: he'd just set his pen down and shift towards her to take a look. After he was done explaining it in a hushed, private voice he'd settle back in his seat and start writing again, his right hand every so often nudging against her left. The first couple times this had happened they had both startled, apologised and left some more room so it wouldn't happen again, but then they would need to read again together, so after a while Charlotte didn't mind that his hand kept bumping against hers, or the feeling of the soft cotton brushing the back of her hand. Sitting here like this began to feel like she was part of a two-headed monster, or running in a three-legged race.

  "Hey," she said, softly.

  "Yeah?"

  "It's not about the book," she began. "I was just wondering what's with the gloves. Were you handling an old book earlier, and you had to wear the white gloves, like they do on the History Channel?"

  Copia looked at her and then down at his hands. "I wasn't. You know, that's actually kind of a myth."

  "What, the white gloves with old things?"

  "Yeah," he said.

  "Really?"

  Copia nodded. "Yeah, they just do that for TV. When you go down to Special Collections and go through the archives and stuff, you're meant to have clean hands, yeah, but not the gloves. You're actually more likely to tear the page or damage it because you can't feel how thin the paper is."

  Charlotte thought about this. "Huh."

  "Yeah," he smiled, replacing his pen before flexing out his fingers. "No, I have to wear these because of my eczema. I'm having a flare up at the moment, so wearing these helps."

  "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry about that. Does it hurt?"

  He frowned. "It itches in a couple patches. I won't show you, it's not nice to look at."

  "Aw," she smiled sympathetically. "I'm not sure if there's anything I could do to help at all?"

  He shook his head. "No, it's just something that happens sometimes. The hot weather doesn't help, and stress can make it worse..." He stopped talking and shrugged. "But thank you, anyway."

  Charlotte listened and nodded. "Well, I hope I'm not adding to any stress," she said with a nervous chuckle, turning back to the book.

  They were both quiet for a moment, before Copia turned to glance at her. "You're not, don't worry."

  They ended up sitting together working for nearly three hours before Copia asked her if she had had enough. She did feel tired, and wanted a glass of water and to go to the bathroom, so they agreed to leave it there for today, but she had to admit that this hadn't been as arduous as she thought it might be. And though she couldn't be certain, Copia didn't seem like he found it to be a waste of time, at least.

  "Thank you for this," she smiled as they packed up. "This really helped, honestly. I promise to read some more of it before we meet up again-- would you want to meet up and do this again?"

  He stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, before glancing back at her. "Yeah, actually. We could do this again. I think that system works okay for me."

  Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. "You didn't think I asked you too many questions?"

  "You asked a lot," he said, before giving her an approving look. "But you're here to learn, so. And besides, you'll need someone to discuss the ideas with later."

  "Yeah?"

  "Oh yeah," he nodded. "We're gonna critique it."

  She nodded back, feeling pretty sure that if she had to critique this stuff with anyone, he would be one of the smarter people to do it with. She smiled back at him with determination. "All right, then."

Notes:

Hi everyone!
I'm so sorry I haven't uploaded in a while, I've been struggling to find the motivation and energy to keep writing this fic lately, and I haven't been feeling so confident about my writing these past few months. Even though coming back to read and finish this chapter with fresh eyes worked fine, I'm still a bit unsure about this fic, I'm not sure this story is as engaging as my other fic where Charlotte and Copia got together. I do have plans and outlines for romantic tension and comedic scenes later on, but getting there feels a bit slow at the moment.
So, I'd like to ask for some feedback and advice! If you'd like to, please comment what you like about this current fic, and what you would change about it. Hopefully I can re-frame my thinking and my plans, and write something which I feel better about and which satisfies you guys.
Bye for now!
Tomato Soup x

Chapter 7

  "I don't believe that," Charlotte shook her head.

  "Do you mean, you're surprised by what he's saying, or you disagree with his idea?" Copia prompted.

  She let out a puff of air and hung her head, her shoulders shaking with tired laughter. "I don't knowww..." she groaned. It had been a couple weeks since they first met in the library to discuss On the Genealogy of Morals, and Charlotte had to admit that they had made some real progress with Nietzsche's philosophy. Reading it still gave her a headache, however; now that she was tackling its meaning it became more overwhelming than before. It was hard work, and painful, too, and yet satisfying as it urged her on, like picking at a scab. Each point she contended with felt so opposite to what she had believed all her life, and though a voice in her head urged her to stop and to go no further, exploring this taboo was almost thrilling.

  "So," she pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to summarise what she had read back to Copia. "He's saying that in the 'good and evil' distinction-- 'slave morality', he calls it-- 'good' means the opposite of what the nobility class valued..."

  "Which was?"

  She thought back to the ancient warrior aristocrats Nietzsche had mentioned. "Uh, conquest, feasting, riches... sleeping around," she blushed, but pushed on. "And those qualities got called 'the evil' in slave morality, because those things were out of reach to the common people... So, like that fable of the fox and the grapes, they told themselves that they weren't worth having anyway-- that they were immoral to have, actually-- as a way to make themselves feel better about not having them."

  "Bingo!" Copia exclaimed. "It comes from resentment over what the nobility had that they didn't. But if you're just a commoner and they're a warrior lord, you can't just go and take what they have, because they're strong and have more power than you, so what does Nietzsche say the slaves did about it?"

  She paused. Resentment... "They were resentful because they couldn't fight back, so they just stayed there stewing in their frustration... and they had to come up with ways to tell themselves that it was fine that they couldn't fight back. They came up with ideas of a new morality so they could get psychological revenge." She flicked back a page in the book for the quote she was thinking of. "Here, 'not-being-able-to-take-revenge is called not-wanting-to-take-revenge, it might even be called forgiveness.'"

  "Uh-huh," he nodded. "You got any other examples?"

  "So, submitting to people you hate gets called 'obedience'," said Charlotte. "Having to wait to get what you want gets called 'patience', and the inability to satisfy sexual desire gets called 'chastity' or 'purity'." 

  "Yes, good," Copia smiled. "Very good. You see now why you got recommended this book, yes?"

  "Oh, definitely," she sighed, rubbing her temples. It was uncomfortable to say the least, picking apart these ideas that she was told to obey since she was little on the basis of being 'good'. When she thought back to learning about the seven capital virtues in Sunday school, it did seem now like temperance, chastity, and humility fit uncomfortably close with what they had just been discussing in the library this evening.

  Over the past couple hours, she had remembered a few examples of her being denied something she wanted as a child, and being told that good little girls didn't talk back, but were patient and did as their parents said because they knew best. It also made her think about various things she had wanted as she grew into a teenager-- to try new clothes, to go dancing, to have new experiences with boys-- and the reasons she told herself why they actually weren't worth having anyway. Those big hoop earrings weren't actually that cool, if anything they were impractical and were only worn by girls who wanted to draw attention to themselves. Boys weren't actually any worth talking to, and they only wanted one thing, and kissing didn't even feel that good so why bother...

  Charlotte sank her head onto the table and closed her eyes for a moment. She hated that she'd said 'no' to things she wanted because she was convinced otherwise, and she hated herself more for believing all those stupid reasons that told her she would be genuinely happier without them.

  "I suppose it does make some sense..." she turned to rest her cheek on the table and raised her eyes to look at her study companion. He didn't look so tired tonight, she thought, like his eyes were brightened by the discussion. He held a pen loosely in between his index and middle finger in front of his face, the clicker just resting on his bottom lip like a cigarette. He had quite full lips, she noticed, and when they weren't pursed or frowning it made his face look completely different. Relaxed; quite nice, actually. She rubbed her eyes and suppressed a yawn.

  Copia looked back, assessing her. "Getting tired?"

  "My brain hurts," she moaned.

  "Good, that means you're using it!" he said. "Come on, we're nearly done. So, he claims that this resentment against those with power poisons the mind, and then once slave morality became the only morality in society people don't only turn against others for transgressing morality, but they also turn on...?"

  "Themselves," she answered. "That's why we feel guilt, right?"

  "Yes,"  Copia exclaimed, gesturing with the pen. "Good! You end up with guilt and self-denial because slave morality condemns our own animal instincts."

  Charlotte nodded and decided to sit up and stretch. As she twisted her neck to look behind her, she saw that there weren't many people studying in the library this evening, but those who were were working in silence. She caught the eye of one Sister who seemed to be disrupted from her studies by their discussion, and she turned back quickly and quietly. "It might be time for us to go," she whispered.

  He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, it's getting late, and I can see you're looking a little... You did good today."

  She slumped back in her chair and flashed him a tired smile. "Thank you. Man, I'm not sure I could take any more tonight, my brain feels like it's going to explode."

  "Well, wait till we're outside before it does, it'd be a hell of a mess to clean up if you let it go in here."

  She snorted, and then yawned. "Same time next week?" she asked as they stood to pack up.

  Copia seemed like he was about to agree, but then said, "Erm, actually I can't next week. I won't be around, sorry."

  "Oh," she said. "No worries. Are you going on a trip somewhere?"

  He stopped, like he hadn't expected further questioning on his plans. "Yeah, um. Yeah, to Providence."

  If she were more awake, she might refrain from pushing it, but she felt it was unfair that they spent so long nit-picking over her past beliefs and she barely knew a thing about him. "And what takes you to Providence?"

  He hurriedly threw the last couple items into his satchel and swung it over his shoulder, avoiding her eye. "Checking in with the local diocese, and, erm, meeting a friend." He said it like it gave some finality to the conversation.

  She tried not to frown. "That sounds nice, I hope you have a good time, and drive safe. How long are you going for?"

  "Sunday until Wednesday, maybe Thursday," he muttered as they began walking towards the stairs. Charlotte followed along beside him, rather unsure of what to say. She was still a little unsure what to make of Copia.

  On the one hand, he was definitely not terrible company, much better than how he came across on their first meeting. When they were sitting together like today, it felt quite all right-- even fun, at times. It felt good to hear someone tell her she was doing a good job, especially now that they felt on a more level playing field when it came to discussing ideas. It felt as if they were dribbling a basketball, or playing chess, listening closely, watching carefully. She felt visibly seen. Trying out different ideas felt a bit like trying on new clothes: checking out how it looked on its own-- on the page, and then how it looked on her; seeing how it felt, how it fit her, taking a steady, critical look in the mirror. And it felt like Copia was along for the ride on this weird shopping trip for ideas. Observing, commenting, making suggestions. New, and unsettling, and a bit uncomfortable, but at the same time rather...

  But when the book closed it was like the light went out in his eyes and they parted ways, him rushing off to wherever he always rushed off to.

  "Any chance we could meet again later this week, if you won't be around next time?" Charlotte decided to ask. "I could do Friday morning, or anytime Saturday, really."

  "Uh," he paused. "Sure, Saturday works."

  "Saturday it is, then."

  As they came up to the doors exiting the library, the old librarian who reminded Charlotte of a wizened tortoise looked up from his newspaper at the reception desk. In a hoarse and fragile voice, he gently called Copia over. Charlotte followed and pretended to browse the noticeboard a few feet away while eavesdropping.

  "...encourage debate to understand... disturb the others, dear boy... to be considerate of the other Siblings... hope you understand, knowing your..."

  Copia nodded and apologised in a hushed tone before joining Charlotte. After the library doors closed behind them Copia said, "We can't meet up to study in the library anymore if we're going to talk so loud."

  "Oh," she frowned. "I should go back in and apologise."

  "No need, he just said to be quieter next time. Maybe we should find somewhere else to meet if you still want to keep talking it through."

  Charlotte nodded. Talking over it together really helped it sink in, and she wasn't sure how she'd get on with the other books she was recommended if she had to read through them in silence. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, though; they could still meet in the library and work independently in silence for some tasks, like the first time, and they could find a new, comfortable spot to talk over ideas. Maybe somewhere with comfier chairs that allowed snacks.

  "You know, I think the weather will be nice this weekend. Maybe we could sit outside?" she offered with a smile.

  He considered this. "Under the arches, maybe?"

  "All right! See you there at four," she waved as they parted ways.

 

  As it turned out, the weather on Saturday was not nice enough for sitting outside. A storm rolled in from the coast on Friday night, and though the rain had eased off slightly throughout Saturday, the grass was soggy and squelched underfoot, and puddles refused to clear from the pathways around the Abbey, somehow making it so that even walking under the cloisters was still dodgy. Charlotte wished that she'd brought her rainboots with her from home as she ran inside to the atrium. Her feet were damp and her lower legs had got splashed, but she laughed in relief as she got inside and tried to shake off any excess water before heading in further.

  "Been swimming in the lake?" asked a familiar voice. Copia was standing off to the side, checking the timetable for library duty. He glanced down momentarily at the wet and muddy hem of her skirt.

  Charlotte laughed and went to stand by the window. "Oh yeah, just to cool off, since it's such a lovely, hot summer's day. Have you not gone for your swim yet?"

  "Nah, don't want to mess up my hair." He came to stand beside her, looking out past the fat droplets on the glass to the rain lashing down outside. The wind seemed to pick up and caused the rain to fall almost at a diagonal, promising to thoroughly soak anyone unwise enough to go out in it. "Guess studying outside is off the cards for today, then."

  "Mhmm," she agreed. "I guess it'll have to be inside. So, if not the library, then where?"

  "Do you think the dining hall might be ok at four?"

  She shook her head. "They're closed then, clearing up from lunch and preparing for the dinner rush at five-thirty." She'd had to do that shift a couple days ago. "What about the common room?"

  "I think it's booked for board game night this evening," said Copia. "We'd only have about an hour before we'd be asked to go."

  "The couch in the concourse?"

  He frowned. "It feels too out in the open, I can never relax sitting there."

  Charlotte crossed her arms and looked out at the rain. "A whole Abbey, and we can't find a place to sit." She wracked her brain and then an idea popped into her head, simple and obvious-- but would it be weird to suggest it? "Maybe one of our rooms? Is that too weird? Sorry."

  "Eh," he stammered. "I guess? I mean, would you mind that? I don't wanna..."

  She was about to say that it would be fine, but then she remembered her roommate, Sister Cath, who barely left the room and who always seemed on edge whenever Charlotte was in there, too. "Actually, my roommate might say no, or I'd have to ask, at least. Would your roommate mind if we went to yours?"

  Copia began absent-mindedly scratching the back of his hand through his gloves. Eczema, Charlotte recalled. "I, uh, I don't actually have a roommate," he said slowly. "But it's really messy in there, and I don't think it'd be right for studying in. Maybe let's just call it off."

  "No, please," she turned to him. "I don't care if it's messy, I just really want to talk about it tonight. I've got a progress meeting with Sister Marjorie on Tuesday to talk about it and I don't want to freak out because I don't know enough or not be able to explain what I read. Please, Copia? Just for an hour?"

  He bit the inside of his cheek, and eventually sighed. "All right, I guess we could study there for a bit, but only if you're certain you don't mind being there."

  "I really don't. Thank you, thank you." She bumped her shoulder against his and smiled angelically. "Ooh, so what will I owe you for this favour, hm?" she cooed.

  Copia glanced at her and shook his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Nothing, all right? Forget about it. Meet you here at four, to walk there?"

  "Sure thing."

  Even though this wasn't a big deal at all, having studied together several times by now, Charlotte did feel a little peculiar throughout the rest of the day. Her mind kept wandering from her tasks and conversations she had with friends, wondering if it was in fact a little weird to suggest they study together in his bedroom. It was his bedroom, after all, she debated with herself; it's where he sleeps, his private space, and he was a very private person. Perhaps she should have just let it be, and studied by herself or ask one of her friends to quiz her on the book, but he had agreed, so he probably didn't mind too much, she hoped. 

  There was the other tentative, exciting thought that she felt residing in her stomach that was keen to remind her that she had never been inside a boy's bedroom before. Well actually, she had, but not since she was ten, maybe, when she would be round playing at a friend's house and they would sneak into the brother's bedroom to look around, or steal an G.I. Joe to pair with Barbie. But that didn't count. She hadn't been to a guy's room before. But this was totally above-board, because it was only to study-- to study Neitzsche, of all things, and she didn't think that it would lead to anything like what 'going to a guy's room' typically meant.

  And they would only be there for an hour, at most, she reminded herself as she went up to her room to change. On Saturday afternoons the Siblings were given leisure time to wear regular clothes, go out to town, and generally relax. Charlotte had plans with Marta for the evening afterwards, so she changed into some jeans and a striped sweater. Remembering her plans made her feel more at ease, knowing that the evening wasn't open-ended and that she had somewhere to be later in case the meeting took a turn she didn't want.

  But, she told herself, he's not the kind of guy to try and make it anything else, is he? He's barely even friendly, I doubt he'd try anything. He's fine.

  On her way to the atrium she passed several friends who were all excited to be going out into Arkham this afternoon. When they invited Charlotte along, out to the movies, or shopping, out to grab some food, she had to turn them down but promised they would hang out soon. As they wished each other the best, they dashed off, leaving her standing alone in the atrium, waiting.

  The faint sounds of feet pounding the floor and sneakers squeaking against tiles grew louder, and as she turned to look she saw Copia whirl round the corner, running clumsily towards her before he staggered to a stop halfway down the corridor, bent over double and wheezing. She jogged over and looked down at him, concerned.

  He panted, but at last stood up. "Cleaning... Sorry." He coughed and gestured with his head. "This, this way."

  They walked at an easy pace so that he could catch his breath, back down the hallway from which he'd ran, past a few offices of senior bishops, then taking a left to climb the set of stairs that led to the other dormitory hallway. "You really didn't need to clean that intensely," Charlotte broke the silence. "I'm really not one to judge. As long as there are no cockroaches or rats or toxic mould it's totally fine."

  Instead of laughing, she heard Copia's throat make a strange, involuntary sound. When she looked over at him, his previously flushed face had drained of colour. His eyes slowly and reluctantly met hers.

  “There aren’t any rats or cockroaches, right?"

  They slowed to a stop. He took a steadying breath and swallowed, holding her gaze. "It's clean," he assured her in a serious voice. "Maybe not completely tidy, but I promise you it's not dirty or gross in there. I wouldn't let you go in if it was. All right?"

  She looked back at him, dropping her smile. "All right," she nodded. "I believe you."

  They continued on before Copia stopped outside an innocuous-looking door, made of the same dark wood and with the same brass handle as the one to Charlotte's own room. He stood there for a couple moments, scratching the backs of his hands and seemed to be thinking of something to say, but gave up and turned the handle. "Okay... here we are. After you, I guess."

  Charlotte gently pushed open the door and peered inside, as if expecting something awful behind it. The room was roughly the size of the one she shared with Cath, except that Copia was the only occupant. Along one side of the room, as in hers, was a single bed with navy-blue sheets, as well as a modest desk with a large collection of books hastily thrown into something resembling a neat pile, together with a boombox, a portable Walkman and an assortment of cassettes and CD's. A couple of lit tea light candles in glass jars were dotted around on the desk and the bedside table, probably in an attempt to freshen the slightly musty air. Immediately to the side of the door was a simple pine wardrobe and chest of drawers, like hers, only sporting posters of rock bands like Metallica, Twisted Sister, and a man in leathers straddling a motorcycle with the name Judas Priest printed below.

  Curious as to what would be on the other side of the room, she glanced over and stared. Half the room's floorspace was closed off by a clear plastic barrier, about three feet in height, fencing off an enclosure which housed a climbing tree, brightly coloured tunnels, crude cardboard buildings with cut-out windows and doorways, assorted chewed-up wooden toys, and a moderately large metal cage with three levels, tiny ladders, and soft fabric hammocks suspended above the sawdust-covered floor. Scurrying around the pen, playing, snacking, grooming, she spotted three-- no, four-- rats.

  Stunned, she stood there and watched them. As soon as Copia entered, they all seemed to notice, scampering over to the edge of the barricade and squeaking enthusiastically. He walked over and reached his arm in over the top, letting them sniff his hand and giving them a couple scratches. "Hello, hello," he greeted them in a soft voice. "I'm back, yes, yes. Told you I wouldn't be long. I know, I know, all right now..."

  Charlotte must have let a burst of air escape her as she smiled in bemusement at the scene. Still fussing over the rats and not looking up at her, Copia said aloud in a deadpan voice, "Yes, they are rats, domesticated rats from a pet store. No, I'm not really allowed to have them. No, they don't carry the plague, they are actually very clean animals." He gave a fat grey one a couple more scratches under its chin before retrieving his hand, and they all went back to their business. Copia turned and looked closely at Charlotte, as if trying to read her face for signs of revulsion or disquiet. His mouth formed a straight line, but the tendons in his neck betrayed his apprehension.

  She tried to keep her face neutral, relaxed. "They seem--"

  "Let's sit," he interrupted, before lowering himself down onto the carpeted floor. Somehow there was an understanding between them that sitting on his bed was out of the question. "That all right with you?"

  "Yes," she said, sitting across from him. She reached into her backpack for the book, but kept glancing over Copia's shoulder towards the playpen. A champagne-coloured rat was washing itself in a casserole dish of water; the large grey one with big ears was playing tug-of-war with a white albino rat over a colourfully woven rope toy. Along one side of the enclosure, near one of the cardboard houses, an additional piece of cardboard was duct taped to the top of the plastic barrier, bearing the warning 'NO RATS BEYOND THIS POINT!' in black sharpie. Charlotte struggled to suppress a smile as she saw the fourth rat eyeing it carefully from below.

  Copia followed her gaze over his shoulder. "We can just ignore them," he said curtly. "They'll be fine playing with each other. Let's get back to where we left off."

  She was about to protest about ignoring them, feeling the urge to reassure him that she didn't mind them, but thought better of it. It was clearly a sore spot. So she smiled, and flicked through the book. "Where were we..."

  "We got to him talking about Thomas Aquinas," he replied, grabbing his own matching copy of Nietzsche from his nightstand. He must have not liked the idea of sitting close enough to share while they were in his room, which Charlotte appreciated. "Premise fifteen, yes, Aquinas. 'Beati in regno celesti, says he, as gently as a lamb, videbunt poenas damnatorum, ut beatitudo illis magis complaceat', meaning?"

  She shrugged. "Something about the blessed and the damned?" she guessed. "'Beati' is 'blessed', and 'damnatorum' is 'damned', obviously."

  "I still can't believe they didn't teach you any Latin at your Catholic church," Copia muttered, causing them to share a smile. "The translation's at the bottom, thankfully. It says, 'The blessed in the kingdom of heaven will behold the punishment of the damned, so that their blessedness will please them all the more.' So, remember we're talking about the idea of delayed spiritual and psychological revenge against those condemned as 'evil'..."

  For about fifteen minutes, they only kept to studying the text, and though she tried her best to focus on their discussion, her eyes kept wandering back to the rat pen-- especially at the black-and-white rat climbing to the roof of the cardboard house near the barrier. It seemed to be assessing how best to make it over the top. Charlotte tried to pay it no mind, but just as she was about to try and counter Copia's point, she stopped and stared as the rat leaped from the roof, sailing through the air to stick the landing. It perched delicately on the barrier, about to hop down and escape.

  "Um," she pointed. "That rat..."

  He seemed immediately to know what she meant, jumping up to capture the little escape artist. She watched the rat standing on the fence as Copia approached, and when he reached out for it, it didn't flee, but climbed onto his hand and waited for him to pick it up. He cradled it in both hands for a moment, and it seemed happy as it sniffed the air.

  "They can jump?"  Charlotte stared.

  "They can, pretty high too; isn't that right, you little bastard?" he chided it, lovingly. The rat, whose body was mostly white but head and neck were a deep brown, began to crawl along his forearm, and amazingly, climb up Copia's bicep, clinging onto the fabric of his flannel shirt to sit on his shoulder. "This one is especially good at escaping, isn't that so, Bandit? Missed me, huh? All right, I suppose you can join us, as long as you behave."

  Charlotte couldn't help but smile as he came to sit back down again-- a little closer than earlier-- the rat very happily balanced on him the entire time. Once settled, it began to sniff and almost groom the hair around his ear, not that Copia seemed to mind. "Its name is Bandit?" she cooed.

  "Mhmm," he said. "Good name for her, too, eh? She's probably the smartest of them, but they're all pretty clever, actually. You see the sign I made?"

  "Yes," she laughed. "Do they escape a lot?"

  "Oh, yes," he smiled. "Usually only if I've been ignoring them and they're bored with their toys and whatnot. Because they're so smart, they need lots of enrichment and things to keep them busy, or they'll start destroying things or stealing stuff. This one here has stolen lots of my hoodie strings before, for instance. Chewed them up to oblivion, too. There's a reason a group of them is called a 'mischief'!"

  "Is it really?"

  "It is!" He said it with pride, as the rat-- Bandit-- curled around the back of his neck and closed her eyes. "No, but my girls are pretty good, overall. They're very sweet, very affectionate, really. I've got four, as you probably saw: Bandit, Dolores, Mozzarella and Luna. They're very social animals, so it's better that you have them as a group so they don't get depressed. They develop quite strong bonds with their cage-mates, and they bond pretty well with their owners, too," he said as reached across to tickle Bandit under her chin. Charlotte noticed then that he wasn't wearing his gloves this afternoon, looking at the pink splotches that covered the back of his knuckly hand. His fingernails were short and bitten.

  The thought crossed her mind that ever since she'd come to the Ministry, ever since her and Copia had started sitting together in the library... Charlotte kept noticing things. Guys. Everywhere. In the dining hall, in her classes on the history of Satanism, at Mass, passing her in the halls, sometimes in the hallways in the dormitories... everywhere. And she could have sworn that they looked nothing like the guys she had known in high school, or even the young male co-workers at Dunkin'. How could a couple years make that much of a difference, she wondered. She had found herself watching their hands and their necks, the heaviness of their jaws, their hair. Copia had a strong, straight nose, and his sideburns gradually dispersed onto his cheeks; he could probably grow them out and make them look pretty good, she thought.

  She felt different-- tuned in, almost. But before she could begin to interrogate what she was feeling, sitting here in a boy's room like this while he was telling her about his hobby, she was snapped back to reality by a disturbing fact. "Rat teeth are constantly growing," Copia explained, oblivious. "And they're almost as hard as steel, so they're constantly filing them down by biting on things-- but they rarely bite people! I just buy them lots of wooden toys to play with, and that keeps them happy, otherwise they will bite other things like skirting boards or shoes or even electrical cables, which you obviously don't want..."

  "Oh, obviously," she nodded, pretending like she hadn't drifted off. He looked up at her, almost like he had forgotten she was there until she spoke, and gave her a sheepish smile that did little to dim the bright joy in his eyes.

  "But I'm rambling, anyway. Sorry about that. Did you want to..." he glanced down at the books momentarily, before looking back at her, thinking. He reached around for Bandit and gently picked her off his shoulder, holding her out towards Charlotte. "Did you want to say 'hi' to her?"

  She looked down at the rat, whose beady black eyes were gazing back up at her. "Yeah, okay!" she beamed, about to reach her hand out, but stopped herself. "How should I go about it?"

  He smiled tentatively, and shuffled over nearer yet. Their crossed knees just about touched, side-by-side. "So, first you should just offer the back of your hand so she can sniff you," he explained. "I'll hold her, and you can just stroke a finger or two along her head, between her ears."

  Charlotte prepared herself, and cautiously offered her hand to the rat. She didn't know why she was a little nervous now-- perhaps part of her wondered if she might bite, even though it sounded like they were all well-behaved. She tried not to pull away as Bandit's nose twitched and her whiskers tickled her skin as she investigated her hand for a few moments. "Hello," she said. After a moment she moved her hand to begin to stroke the top of Bandit's head with her finger, her nose continuing to twitch happily all the while. "Aw, you're so soft!"

  Copia seemed pretty content holding Bandit while Charlotte gave her some fuss. "They're really soft, right?" he said. "You see how her head and neck are dark brown, but the rest of her is white? She's what's called a hooded rat, like she's wearing a little balaclava, no? That's another reason why I think the name suits her." 

  She continued petting the rat for a minute or so longer, briefly even holding her in her hands while Copia fetched a bag of treats to reward her good behaviour. Before long, it was time for him to return Bandit to her pen with her fellow rats. As Charlotte was saying her goodbyes and giving her her last bits of fuss, Copia shared a knowing smile. "So, you don't like rats, huh?"

  She hummed. "Aw, you're not so bad, are you, Bandit? You're pretty sweet." She handed her back to him and shrugged. "I wasn't so sure at first, but I quite like them now. This has been really cool."

  He nodded, before turning his gaze back to the rat. "That's... that's good. Thank you, for not freaking out over them. They're, um, not everyone's cup of tea, I know."

  "Mhm. Well, thank you for letting me see them, and telling me more about them. I can see they mean a lot to you," Charlotte replied, gently. His cheeks turned a soft pink, and he kept looking down, stroking Bandit's fur meditatively. It seemed to soothe him and the rat. "Bye-bye, Bandit," she cooed.

 Copia stood and returned the rat to the pen, where she scampered off to play in one of the tunnels. He watched them all for a moment. "Uh," he said, glancing at Charlotte apologetically. "Would you mind not telling anyone around the Ministry about the rats? Like I said, I'm technically not supposed to have them, and I could get into trouble and I don't want that. You know what I mean? I don't want pest control getting called in over my girls..." 

  She watched Bandit and the white one, Mozzarella, grooming each other; Luna, the fat grey one, snoozing in a hammock alongside Dolores. "I promise," she said earnestly. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

  He nodded, a small appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks," he said, before clapping his hands. "So! Guess that's time."

  She glanced at her watch. It had indeed been about an hour, and she would be meeting Marta downstairs in about ten minutes to head out into Arkham. "Hey," she wondered. "What are you doing this evening?"

  "Me?"

  "Yeah, you."

  He pondered for a moment. "Just staying here, probably. Might listen to some music, just chillax, I guess."

  Charlotte tilted her head to the side. "I think you should come out with me and my friend tonight."

  "What?" he spluttered. "Where?"

  "Out to Arkham. We're going bowling!"

  "Seriously?" He scrunched up his nose. “Bowling?”

  "Yeah, 'seriously'," she teased. "You said you're not doing much tonight, so you might as well. I'm going with Marta, I'm meant to meet her in the atrium in a few minutes. Grab your stuff, and come with us."

  Copia looked around his room for a few moments, trying to think of an excuse. "I haven't been bowling in years. What do I wear?"

  She looked him over. Jeans. A faded red flannel shirt over a grey t-shirt. "You look great as you are. I'd like it if you came, it'll be fun. Please?" She tilted her head and smiled. It was one of her angelic smiles, she realised later, the ones she brought out for special occasions and requests.

  He looked at her and pursed his lips, thinking still. "What about your books? Your things?" he asked weakly.

  Carefree, she shrugged. "I'll take them with me in my backpack. Come along?"

  He looked at her for a second longer before raising his eyes to the ceiling. He took a deep breath, and seemed to be holding back a smile. "Fine."

  Charlotte cheered. "Let's go!"

Notes:

If you'd like to learn more about Nietzsche I recommend PhilosophyTube's YouTube video about him, and the section in Contrapoints' video 'Envy'. I'll link those below:
PhilosophyTube https://youtu.be/oIzuTabyLS8?si=wYxpr8Zbd7iZf7mF
Contrapoints https://youtu.be/aPhrTOg1RUk?si=_g9zV6TLNXDt_CtD

Chapter 8

  This really wasn't how Copia was expecting his evening to go.

  He had to admit that having Charlotte over to study in his room hadn't gone that badly, especially regarding his rats, but that had been enough newness and unfamiliarity for one day. He turned the events of the afternoon over in his head as he walked along the corridors with Charlotte to meet her friend to go bowling, hardly taking in her conversation.

  He really ought not to feel too excited that she had found the rats intriguing. She might have been entertained by them, but that wasn't the same as being impressed or smitten with them. He recalled how she had been when she first entered the room, and how she had been as she left. She'd listened to him talk about them, and she had even held one-- but she was too polite to express discomfort, or to be honest with him if she found them boring or disgusting. Charlotte already probably thought he was a weirdo, and the rats thing probably just made him seem that much weirder. Do circus freaks get excited when cute girls come to their shows? he asked himself. He shouldn't really want this kind of attention.

  Just as he was beginning to form some excuse as to why he couldn't go after all-- something about the rats or packing for his trip to Providence tomorrow, or packing his rats to come with him to Providence tomorrow-- Charlotte called her friend's name and jogged up ahead of him. A girl wearing a long purple skirt and hooped earrings turned towards them. She glanced coolly over Copia as she walked over and linked arms with Charlotte. "Hey."

 "Marta, this is Copia," Charlotte smiled, looking between them both. "Copia, this is my friend Marta."

  Marta nodded. Copia gave a very pathetic wave. "Hello," he murmured.

  "Copia wants to come bowling, too," Charlotte informed her friend. Just like that, no asking her friend's permission-- just dragging him along.

  "Only if it's no bother," he hastily added.

  Marta frowned. "Why would it be a bother? The car can fit us. Ready to go?"

  They made their way out of the building, along the cloisters then crossing the lawn to reach the parking lot. It had, thankfully, stopped raining, but the sky above was still clouded and dull. Charlotte and Marta walked a couple paces ahead of Copia, talking about Mother Alexandra's scathing review of Marta's tour guide presentation and how she was thinking of not wasting her time with it any longer. Charlotte listened attentively and offered consolation and advice, her curls swaying as she tilted her head sympathetically.

 Copia tried his best to push aside his feelings of being the third wheel as they reached Marta's faded red Geo Metro. If he were being charitable, he would have described it as 'well-used'; in honesty, he was surprised that it was still standing upright.

  As the girls climbed into the front seats, he tried the duct-taped handle of the door behind the driver's, but it wouldn't move. At Marta's direction, he went across to the other door and crammed himself into the backseat behind Charlotte. Inside the small car, the air was putrid with the smell of old ash and stale fast food wrappers, alongside the strong odour of pine air freshener which did little to eliminate or mask the problem. He grimaced, and said a silent prayer to the Devil Below that his car didn't smell like this, as he enjoyed a smoke in there every so often.

  "Could you slide your seat forward a little, please?" he asked Charlotte as his legs protested about the cramped conditions. She obliged, but the seat ahead only made a faint 'clunk!' and wouldn't move.

  Marta glanced over. "Oh, yeah. That seat doesn't move, it's stuck." She craned her neck to observe the backseat, as if seeing it for the first time. "Yeah, sorry my car is kinda gross."

  "It's all right!" Charlotte said. "It's really not that bad."

  Copia thought quickly. "It's quicker than taking the bus," he added, trying to sound nonchalant. He took a steadying breath as he gingerly pushed aside a pile of gym clothes and some Target bags so he could fasten his seatbelt. Marta turned the key in the ignition, and hot stale air rushed through the vents as the car stuttered before falling silent. The dashboard lit up with symbols and urgent beeps.

  "Oh dear," Charlotte murmured.

  Marta shrugged. "It's fine, it always does that."

  Copia's eyes widened. He covered his nose and mouth and tried to calm down. It was too hot and stuffy in here; his back felt sticky with sweat and his clothes were clinging uncomfortably to his body. He grasped for the handle to roll down the window, but though it span in his hand the glass didn't budge.

  "Running the heating usually helps the engine," Marta said. "Just give it five minutes."

  Five whole minutes? He could barely stomach it for another five seconds! Scrunching his eyes shut, as if to make it all go away, he squeezed his fingers into his jeans' pocket, searching desperately for, hoping he had remembered his... yes!

  "Let's take my car instead!" he yelped, before clearing his throat. "I've got my keys, so..."

  The girls turned to look at him. Marta had one eyebrow arched. Charlotte tilted her head with a curious smile. Copia dug the keys out and held them up.

  "See?"

  Marta looked at them. "Thanks, dude, but it's fine."

  Charlotte looked back at the dashboard as the car made an odd ticking sound, then to her friend. "Maybe we should..."

  Marta scowled at the dash and drummed her fingers impatiently on the wheel.

  "Are you sure you're happy to drive?" Charlotte asked him.

  "I insist," he stated firmly. "Plus, it's got a full tank! Won't need to stop for gas. The sooner we get there, the more time we have to do bowling, yes?"

  And so they got out of Marta's car and made their way over to Copia's '68 Buick LeSabre. He felt a smidge of pride when he saw Charlotte and Marta's eyebrows raise at the vintage car, and though he was also pleased with the work he'd put in repairing the second-hand vehicle, he was content to not talk about it. He unlocked it so they could take a seat while he checked the tire pressure. Charlotte slid into the front seat and took a look at the controls, running her fingers over the buttons for the radio.  

  "-- YOU'RE LISTENING TO 106.9, LIPSTICK AND LEATHER FM, PLAYING HITS BIGGER THAN YOUR HAIR, AND RIFFS TIGHTER THAN YOUR LEATHER PANTS! AS ALWAYS, WE'RE BRINGING YOU THE HOTTEST, THE LOUDEST, THE FLASHIEST--!" 

  A flock of crows took off from a nearby tree, startled by the roaring radio. Copia jumped out of his skin and reached into the car to turn it off. He surreptitiously cleared his throat as he lowered himself into the driver's seat and closed the door behind him. “Weird, it must have gone to a random frequency. Did you guys want Radio Arkham, was it?” he asked, not raising his eyes to look at Charlotte or Marta in the rear-view mirror. His ears felt hot.

  He felt Charlotte smiling beside him, trying to catch his eye. “Lipstick and Leather FM, hm?”

  “You still listen to glam rock?" Marta laughed. "Get with the times, grandpa!"

  “Oh? Is that what the station is called? No, I don't listen to that lame old stuff,” Copia tried to sound oblivious, starting the engine, only for the radio to blare out once more.

  “--LITTLE MISS INNOCENT SUGAR ME, YEAH YEAH. C'MON, TAKE A BOTTLE, SHAKE IT UP. BREAK THE BUBBLE, BREAK IT UP! POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME--!"

  He started and flailed his arm out to switch the station over to anything, anything else. The girls’ laughter rang throughout the car as the radio settled on a sedate talk show with some political correspondent. Copia’s brain scrambled to explain. “Look, it helps me stay awake when I’m driving at night, all right? It’s just that. I'm not some glam-rocker or... ” he gestured with one hand as he reached for the gearstick.

  "Or an owner of leather pants?" Charlotte giggled, her eyes gleaming with mirth.

  “No,” he grunted, then felt a bit bad for it. “Just, put it onto Radio Arkham or whatever you wanted.”

  “Put it back to the glam rock, Charlotte!” Marta cried from the back.

   Just let it go, he told himself. More noteworthy or embarrassing things had been revealed about himself this evening than his outdated music taste. Besides, Charlotte had probably already seen the posters in his room earlier. Whatever. Just focus on the road.

 

  The bowling alley was busier than Copia would have expected it to be, but only half of the ten lanes were in use. They were the youngest group there, with the other bowlers looking forty or older. The building was mostly as he remembered from the last time he went bowling, perhaps when he was ten or so. The walls were a faded cream with teal and burnt orange designs on the walls, and there was a small cafeteria towards the back, with those tables with the plastic seats attached and laminated menus and tomato-shaped ketchup bottles. There was the new addition of a small arcade with its flashing games and colourful zig-zag-patterned carpet. The venue pulsed with music ('No Limit' by 2 Unlimited, he recognised it as), and there was the familiar and satisfying sound of the heavy balls rolling along and the clatter of falling pins on the wooden lanes.

  They paid the spotty teenager at the front desk for three games, gave their names and collected their shoes, and soon they were set up to play, the small bulky television above their lane displaying the score table. Charlotte went first, but didn't put enough power behind her swing as the ball slowly made its way down and knocked over a modest three pins.

  "What was that?!" Marta laughed. "Have you never been bowling before?"

  "I have!" she exclaimed. "I was actually really good at bowling in Dunwich."

  "What kind of bowling alley did you use out in the sticks?"

  Charlotte selected a lighter ball from the machine, testing the weight. "Well in the bar, The Whately Arms, in the backroom there’s a bowling alley. But it’s only one lane, and you have to set the pins up by hand. And they aren’t bowling balls like these, just heavy rubber ones, and you keep score on a chalkboard in the corner.”

  “Fuck, I didn't think it would be that dire!" her friend joked.

  Marta was an excellent bowler, scoring two perfect strikes. Charlotte high-fived her, and Copia nodded and gave a low whistle.

  When it was his turn, he set his sights up ahead of him and took a deep breath. As he swung his arm and let loose the ball, it veered steadily off course and into the gutter. His next attempts weren't much better as the game went on; when he managed to knock down two pins after a streak of only hitting a single one, Charlotte congratulated him on doubling his score. Even after she asked the guy at the desk to turn on the kiddie bars for him, he didn't score a single strike.

  Charlotte talked to everyone in the building. She talked to the man at the shoe counter, the waitress in the cafeteria, the middle-aged couple in the lane next to them, a whole group of moms wearing matching league shirts who sent her away with a kind pat on the shoulder and three cokes and a plate of nachos...

  "I think there's a baby over in the corner you forgot to say hello to," Copia said to her. 

  Her eyes perked up. "Where's the baby?" 

  "No," he said. "I was just..."

  Charlotte set the tray down and handed him a coke, before opening her can with a hiss. He took it, but didn't drink from it.

  "Why do you do that?" he asked.

  "Do what?" she took a sip. 

  "Go so far out of your way to be nice to people?" 

  She smiled-- but she was already smiling, so that just meant that she smiled more.

  "I like to. Do you think I should keep to myself more, like you?" she asked, then looked fondly over at Marta who was scowling at the pins up ahead, focussed. "Or her?" 

  Copia resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "There's gotta be a happy medium." 

  "I'm happy," she said. "So this must be it."

  Marta won the first game, then Charlotte managed to scrape to first place for the second, before Marta won again. The three sat in the cafeteria after, sharing a plate of fries Marta bought for the table. Copia had just enough cash left to buy them an ice cream sandwich each.

  "I told you I'm pretty good at bowling," Charlotte boasted.

  Marta smirked. "Not as good as me, though."

  "Hey, I won that second game fair and square!"

  "You got lucky, that's all," Marta pointed a finger at her, her bangles clattering.

  Charlotte scrunched up her wrapper and tossed it as her friend, laughing. Charlotte had one of the smiliest faces Copia had ever seen. She smiled all the way from her chin to her hairline; her nose scrunched up and her eyes shone. Even her ears got involved, he noted now her hair was tied back in a ponytail-- they almost twitched, like a dog's.

  Marta's jaw dropped. "Oh, sore loser!" She held her hand up in front of her, her fingers making an L as she stuck out her tongue at her. The way they smiled at each other made Copia look away.

  "Hey," Charlotte asked him across the table. "How do you think we should settle it? Do you think we have enough for a game of air-hockey?"

  "I'd kick your ass in air-hockey, too!" Marta cried.

  They ended up not playing air-hockey, or Dance Dance Revolution, or any other head-to-head arcade game. It was coming up to nearly 8:30, so they decided that 'the best of three' result was final, and made their way to the parking lot. The sky was brighter now than when they had entered the building, as the clouds had dispersed to allow for a beautiful sunset, a spattering of orange and pink clouds over west, deepening to a muted blue dotted with faint stars in the east.

  "Hey! Marta, Charlotte!" 

  They turned and saw another trio of Siblings from the Ministry, two guys and a girl, also in plainclothes. The girls recognised them as they wandered over. "Hey guys! Are you going bowling too?"

  "Bowling? No, we're just parking here for the night. Parking downtown sucks," said one of the guys, presumably the driver. Copia tried to place them; he'd definitely seen them around them around the Ministry before.

  The girl with them turned to him-- Henry, Copia remembered suddenly. "We should totally go bowling sometime, baby."

  Copia stood by watching as the other guy sauntered over to Marta and Charlotte. "How did you girls like bowling tonight? Were you any good?"

  Charlotte, good natured as ever, shrugged. "I was so-so, but Marta is the best bowler I've ever seen!"

  He smirked. "That so? Hey, have you heard what they say about being good at bowling?"

  Marta rolled her eyes. Charlotte tilted her head. "No, what do they say?"

  Henry and his girlfriend snorted. The other guy kept it together and took a step closer to Charlotte, leaning down to mutter into her ear, "They say that either you're good at bowling, or you're good at giving--"

  "Gifts!" Copia blurted out suddenly. They all turned to stare at him. He had no choice but to double down. "Or you're good at giving gifts. Either one or the other, never both."

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows at him. "Is that so! What does that say about me, being average at bowling?"

  He felt an awful cold sweat come over him. He hated where this euphemism was going. "That you give averagely good gifts, I guess."

  The guy smiled at Copia like a shark. "Fuck yeah, she does."

  It was like a weight had dropped into his stomach, and he could feel his pulse in his neck suddenly.

  "Don't be so crass, James," Henry's girlfriend slapped him on the arm playfully.

  "Don't be such a buzzkill, Imogen," he fired back.

  Marta shifted her weight onto one leg. "You guys said you're going downtown?"

  "Yeah, just a chill one at O'Bannion's," replied Henry. "Get some food, get a couple drinks, maybe take a walk down by the docks," he chuckled, looping his arm around Imogen's shoulders.

  Copia had heard of O'Bannion's, but had never been himself. It was by the river docks in what used to be the old merchant district, and it had been popular with smugglers during Prohibition, and seemed to have kept its dubious reputation as a popular haunt for alcoholics and college dropouts where the staff didn't check ID's. He tried to keep his face neutral and fade into the background. 

  "You fancy coming along?" asked Henry to the group.

  Marta shrugged and gave a cool "Sure," and then looked to Charlotte. Charlotte looked to Copia.

  "Are you coming with us?"

  He shook his head. "Thanks, but I'd better not," he said. "I'm driving, so."

  Henry pulled a face. "Me too, man, it's not stopping me." He flashed a smile at the girls. Copia's mouth felt dry, but he had no desire for a drink. He swallowed and stuffed his fists into his pockets.

  "I need to head back, anyway," he said. He looked away, back towards his car.

  "What do you say, Lottie?" he heard that guy-- James-- say. "The night is young."

  So is she, Copia forced himself to not say aloud. He found himself reaching for his lighter, but his cigarettes were back in the car. He took a deep breath.

  Charlotte hummed. "You don't mind if we go with them, do you?" The question was for him. He made himself look at her.

  "No, it's fine," Copia replied. "You guys have fun, and get home safe."

  She smiled at him, and it hurt, somehow. "Thank you. And thanks for coming with us tonight, and for the ride!"

  Marta nodded at him. "Yeah, thanks."

  "It's cool, no problem at all... Take care, now."

  He turned away and walked back to his car, and didn't look back as Charlotte and Marta joined Henry, Imogen and James on their walk down the street. He threw himself down into the leather seat and reached for his pack of cigarettes in the glove box, lit up, and rolled down the window as he closed his eyes. He sat there until he had finished. After a moment, he started the car and set off to go. Van Halen's cover of 'You Really Got Me' was playing on Lipstick and Leather FM, and Copia couldn't decide if he wanted to turn the radio off for once.

  He backed out of the parking space and turned decidedly towards the highway, back to the Ministry. If he sat in that parking lot any longer, he'd get out of the car and chase the group down and make Charlotte come with him.

Notes:

Hi all, thanks for reading this new chapter. I just wanted to credit the video game 'Disco Elysium' for the gag with the car radio, but I put a little glam-metal spin on it to fit Copia's character better. Also I asked my partner to read over this chapter, and they said that my sense of humour is very obviously British as it all revolves around uncomfortable situations and characters being polite and awkward in them. I hope you don't mind that, seeing as I've set this story in Massachusetts!
Hope you're doing well and enjoying spring.
Tomato Soup x

Chapter 9

  The drive over to Providence, Rhode Island on Sunday morning just after Mass had been fine, and Copia had arrived at the local branch just before half past ten. Terzo Emeritus, his friend, possibly his half-brother, and assigned guide, greeted him in the foyer and escorted him inside.

  They had spent the day cooped up indoors: first they had mid-morning prayer, which lasted forty minutes, then they had been to shadow a meeting with the board of governors discussing the quarterly budget. After a quick lunch in the refectory, they sat in on a meeting discussing upcoming repairs and maintenance to the quire section of the church. All day, Copia had done his best to listen closely-- making notes, remembering important names and what needed to be done in what order under what proceedings-- and to put all his thoughts from yesterday evening to the back of his mind.

  At just after four o'clock when he and Terzo were finally free to sit outside and catch the last of the sun over a smoke and an espresso, Copia realised that it had been somewhat of a relief to have other matters to occupy his mind for a few hours. As Terzo began to fill him in on some lower-level clergy gossip, Copia found himself only half-listening.

  "And so because Will and Heidi have been taking so much time off," Terzo explained "Sister Becky has been filling in for lots of the spiritual guidance and counselling-- and of course, that's part of their responsibilities, not hers-- and she's beginning to struggle with it. Did you ever know Becky?"

  "I don't think so," Copia shook his head.

  "Anyway, she's a lovely woman but sensitive, and she's not one to complain, so she just gives and gives and gives; and others around the church here can tell that she's not doing so well..."

  Copia had worried about Charlotte getting back to the Ministry safely last night, and about what might have happened on her evening out to O'Bannion's with the others, but a lot of those fears were put to rest when he spotted her in Mass this morning and she'd seemed fine. Still... 

  He hadn't liked how James had looked at her, or that joke about how either someone is good at bowling or good at giving blowjobs. He tried to interrogate why exactly he had butted in to throw off the punchline. Maybe it was because she had just blindly walked into it and that he wanted to save her from the embarrassment, knowing that she had grown up sheltered and ignorant to certain things. Or maybe it was how James had leered at her and called her 'Lottie' like that, and how nobody else-- not even Marta-- had really tried to intervene.

  But who was he to intervene, or to feel jealous or protective, really? Maybe there weren't any bad intentions there; or maybe that's just how that group of friends acted, and Charlotte knew that and didn't mind. Just because he wouldn't choose to be friends with them didn't mean that she shouldn't be. She could make her own decisions, after all. He wasn't even certain that Charlotte considered him her friend. He was pretty sure he recalled that Charlotte had introduced him to Marta as just 'Copia', and Marta as 'my friend Marta'.

  "Hands," chided Terzo.

  Copia came back to the present, unaware that he had been scratching his eczema. He shook out his wrists and made an effort to hold his cup and saucer with both hands. "Sorry, sorry. Uh, you were saying?"

  "No, no," said Terzo testily. "Clearly it's very boring."

  "No, I'm listening."

  "I don't think you were listening. Never mind. It's not important that there's a small schism happening and we might need to elect new deans because the current ones are pushing their duties onto other Siblings," Terzo took a sip of coffee and set it down sharply in its saucer. "I'm sure that when you become a Cardinal, you'll never have to deal with anything as small and inconsequential as this."

  Copia resisted the urge to scoff. Terzo wasn't even a Cardinal yet-- he'd only been selected for a good placement in preparation to maybe become a Cardinal one day. He looked at his companion, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the sharpness and irritation in his tone. He bit his lip. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted, I guess." He adjusted in his seat and began to think of a way to delicately ask how he had really been.

  Terzo sighed. "Sebastian, is it?" he asked him, in a gentler voice.

  "No, it's not that," he replied. He wished Terzo would just drop the subject of his ex. What more was there to discuss? Still, he might be able to offer some decent advice about Copia's predicament with Charlotte. Any port in a storm... "It's, uh. So, I've been meeting up with someone lately..."

  Terzo glanced up from tapping the ash off his cigarette. "Oh yeah?"

  "Yeah, just once a week, usually, but we see each other around sometimes."

  He hummed and smiled at Copia. “Well, that's good! Good that you're getting back out there so soon. I just hope they aren’t too expensive.”

  Copia blinked. “What?”

  “Well, it’s good that you’re getting out there: learning, growing, working through your issues, so to speak. It was about time.”

  “I’m not,” Copia struggled. He set down his cup on the table. “I’m not seeing a therapist right now.”

  “Not a prostitute either?”

  “What? No!” he exclaimed. “Why would you say… ‘working through my issues’?!”

  Terzo simply smirked at him, as if to say, ‘your issues are on full display, so don’t pretend you don’t have any’.

  Copia took a deep breath and tried again. “Like, like a new person. A new friend, maybe. We meet up and study in the library once or twice a week.”

  “Ah!” Terzo laughed. “Well, that’s good, too! It’s important you have friends, especially now I’m not there to hang out with you and everything."

  It had indeed been rather lonely when Terzo got shipped off around the country to continue his education. He might not have been the best friend to Copia, but at least he had been there. He'd bought the pet rats only a couple weeks after.

  "Is it anyone I know? What’s his name?”

  “Well, ah,” Copia scratched the back of his neck. “It’s, she’s actually a, a girl.”

  “A girl?”

  “Yeah.” Copia made an effort to stop fidgeting and to be serious and adult. He folded his hands in front of him. "One of the Sisters."

  “Well, tell me about her, then!” Terzo prompted.

  Copia’s stomach twisted. He felt nervous all of a sudden. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Then make something up!” he snapped, which made Copia irritated, but he remembered how nice it was to actually talk to him, a familiar face, even if he couldn’t stand him sometimes. 

  “Her name is Charlotte. She joined about two months ago. She's blonde. And she talks a lot.”

  “And you’re friends?”

  “I don’t know, actually.”

  “Why, did something happen? Something to blur the lines?”

  As if. “No,” said Copia. “More like, are we acquaintances or friends. Do you remember that I mentioned helping a girl find a book in my email a few weeks ago?”

  He explained to Terzo all that had happened since then. He was a little surprised that their study sessions hadn't come up at all in their correspondence. He told him about their study meet-ups over the past few weeks, as well as them going bowling after hanging out in his room with the rats, and he briefly mentioned that she went out into town with her other friends afterwards while he went home. He felt confused, he said, because he just considered her someone he met up with a couple times a week to help with her assigned reading, but she seemed to want to be friends. Perhaps. It was hard to tell because she was friendly like that with everyone.

  "All right, so," Terzo looked at him, suppressing a sigh. "What exactly is the problem, here?"

  Copia paused. She was friendly and pleasant to him, and he supposed he did quite like that. But then there came that uncomfortable twinge in his chest again when he remembered Charlotte ditching him to hang out with her other friends, and the sound of their laughter. He shrugged, as if to dispel the memory. "I don't know. Girls like her aren’t friends with guys like me.” 

  “What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” Terzo fired back.

  “You know,” Copia whined. “She’s nice, and popular, and good-looking, and has an easy time making friends…” he had been counting on his fingers, and then gave up. “She probably got ‘best smile’ or ‘most likely to brighten your day’ as her senior superlative at school, and I’m just…”

  Terzo had been watching him, dead-eyed, as he spoke. He reached for his espresso cup but found it empty. He gestured impatiently. “Yes? What are you, exactly, that means there is no chance in the world of you two being friends?”

  Copia couldn’t answer. It wasn’t that he didn’t have answers or reasons; it was that he had too many of them, and they were getting crammed and trapped amongst themselves trying to leave his mouth, like panicked people trying to escape a burning building.

  Terzo’s question cut through the chaos. “Do you have a crush on her, or something?”

  He blinked, temporarily stunned. “No,” he answered. “No.”

  He didn’t think that Terzo looked entirely convinced as he raised one eyebrow, but he accepted his answer. There was a pause as Terzo stubbed out his cigarette. The eczema patches on the backs of Copia's hands burned. He stuffed them into his pockets to prevent himself scratching them. "Forget it. It's dumb," he said quietly.

  Terzo shrugged. "Not really. I mean, you're way overthinking shit, as per usual. Look, just relax and take it day by day, all right? Even if you don't become best friends, it's good to have casual friends who you just see around sometimes, too. And it gets you practising more for when you do want to find a closer friend-- and most importantly, getting Imperator off your back." He gave Copia an encouraging yet tired smile. Copia bit the inside of his cheek. "You can be friends, C. I believe in you."

  "No you don't," huffed Copia, crossing his arms. "When I said I was seeing someone new you assumed I was seeing a hooker. You don't have much confidence in me, clearly!"

  "Fine, I'm sorry about that, but you did phrase it awkwardly! There's nothing wrong with it if you were seeing one, you know..."

  Copia flashed him a sharp stare. Terzo raised his hands and stood down.

  "Whatever. You do want to be friends with this Charlotte girl, right?"

  He exhaled through his nose. He thought about them both sitting on the floor in his room, and the look on her face when she held his rat, Bandit; how she'd smiled and thanked him for showing them to her. "I'd like it if you came", she'd said when she'd invited him bowling.

 “I think I want to be friends with her? Yes? I don’t know, maybe!”

  Terzo was nodding at him, amused that it had taken him this long to come to an obvious conclusion. “Of course you do, now come on, take a chill-pill." He stretched and rubbed his eye. The sun had drifted over to the side and had gone behind a building, casting the cloister gardens in shadow. "We should go back in soon," Terzo said.

  Copia nodded. His head felt heavy from the long day and all the thinking he'd been doing. "I'm going to head to my room, take a shower before dinner. See you in there?"

  "Same table we sat at for lunch," Terzo smiled as they stood up to go. "See you later."

Notes:

Evening guys, hope you enjoyed seeing some more of Terzo this chapter. Poor Copia is really going through it, huh?
Also what do you think of the new singles from Skeletá? I really like Lachryma but I wasn't so sure about Satanized. I didn't get tickets to see Ghost this year sadly, they were too expensive, but I'm excited to hear the new album.
The next chapter might be a bit delayed, since I've got a busy few weeks with friends and family coming to visit, but I'm not disappearing!
Lots of love,
Soup x

Chapter 10

Notes:

Hi guys, this chapter deals with some themes around purity culture, so please read at your discretion if you're sensitive to that.

  Charlotte was hanging laundry on the line with Marta and two other Sisters when she spotted Copia again next. It was the perfect day for the task, with the sun shining down and a strong, warm wind causing the white sheets to billow and swell like ship's sails. The smell of damp, fresh cotton mingled with the fragrant freshly cut grass as they worked.

  The Sisters each had their own basket of bedsheets to hang, and a cloth bag of wooden pegs. They were supposed to work individually, but Charlotte and Marta had decided that it would be better working as a pair, with Charlotte holding the corner of the linen on the line while Marta fetched her the pegs. They had first teamed up to hang the big double sheets so that they wouldn't drag on the ground, but now they did it for everything larger than a pillowcase. Luckily, they hadn't been told off yet, unlike the other day in the kitchen when Sister Lilith reminded them that not every task requires two people.

  Charlotte reached up to pin another pillowcase on the line, when the wind surged and snatched it from her hand, sending it sailing over her head. She jumped for it, unsuccessfully, and turned to collect it from where it had landed. As she approached the wind took it up again and carried it further across the lawns, tumbling over itself and dragging it through the grass. She chased it down once it had reached the pebbled walkway on the other side, where it was about to get trampled under the feet of a Brother as he headed for the laundromat.

  "Stay there!" she shouted at the pillowcase as she slowed to a jog. The poor confused Brother jumped and looked at her.

  "Huh?" said Copia. He was carrying a basket and staggered, encumbered, before he came to a complete stop.

  Charlotte pointed. "Pillowcase!"

  He looked down and stuck his foot out just in time to pin it to the ground before it could escape. Charlotte went over and knelt to retrieve it. She inspected the damage and frowned.

  "Oh, that won't do," she said, sounding like her Mom. She shrugged and smiled up at Copia from the ground. "Still, thank you for stopping it."

  He had taken a step backwards out of the way and nodded in acknowledgment. She wondered if he might offer her a hand up, but then again, his hands were full. She stood up and looked him in the eye.

  "Hi," she said with a slight laugh.

  He returned the greeting with a small smile. "Hi."

  "How was Providence?"

  He nodded, recollecting. "It was all right, thank you. And, uh, how are you?"

  She sighed, catching her breath back, and gestured to the dirty pillowcase. "A little warm and breathless, but otherwise good, thank you! Windy, eh? Perfect washing weather."

  Copia hmmed, glancing at his basket, and then towards her. "Ah, maybe a little too perfect, ha."

  "Maybe, yes!" she replied, taking another look at the fabric in her hands. "Oh well..."

  They stood there for a few moments before he jostled the basket to balance it on one hip and reached out his hand. "I can take that, if you want. Put it in with this load. Since I'm doing laundry anyway, I mean."

  Charlotte smiled at him appreciatively and handed it to him. "Thank you, that's very kind." She watched him as he added it to his basket—probably his laundry from his trip away, she realised—and rocked back and forth on her toes for a moment. "I'd better get back before they think I'm playing hooky, but come find me later! Let's catch up!"

  He gave a small wave with his free hand as she turned to run back. "All right! Catch you later."

 

  Marta looked at her quizzically when she returned. "What happened to the pillowcase?"

  "Copia took it to wash," she replied, gesturing across the lawns. She grabbed the next piece from her basket. "It got all dirty."

  Marta nodded as she passed over two more pegs. "That's nice of him," she said laconically, and then after a moment asked, "He didn't seem upset about the other night when he went home early, did he?"

  Charlotte frowned, trying to remember if anything had seemed 'off'. "No, I don't think so," she said. "Wait, you think he was upset about that?"

  Marta shrugged.

  "Oh, I hope not," she fretted. What a way to treat a friend who'd driven them into town and come out with them at the last minute. I hope you're happy with yourself, Lottie, that little voice in her head told her. "But he said we'd catch up later," she said, more to herself than to Marta.

  Marta handed her another corner of a bedsheet and more pegs. "I'm sure it's fine. I mean, we invited him along. He turned it down, so it's his decision, really."

  "I suppose so..."

  Marta looked at her frankly. "I mean, he's your friend: do you think he would have liked O'Bannion's?"

  She paused and looked back at her with a small, private smile. "No, perhaps not."

  She hadn't really known what to expect from the evening as they had all walked down to the river docks, but it ended up being just enough outside Charlotte's comfort zone to the point where she felt a little rebellious. Strolling with a group like that, talking loudly and laughing all the way through town, as the sidewalks turned to old cobblestones and the streets narrowed into ancient rickety alleys, twisting ever-downwards to the hole-in-the-wall by the water. A couple grizzled old men sat outside, their drinks on the old barrels used for tables, under the neon sign where only ANNION'S and the four-leaf clover lit up.

  She had been in a bar back home, but that was the Whatley Arms in Dunwich—sure, under twenty-ones could go in, but Lavinia the owner wouldn't serve you, or if she did then everyone in town would know because they would all be in there, too. Charlotte did know a couple of kids in her hometown who drank habitually and just went to confession later, but she'd never hung out with them; although she did admit to Father Daniels that she'd been curious to try it, but hadn't. Nobody cared at O'Bannion's. It was dark inside with a vaguely Irish piratey theme, and smelled of stale beer spilled onto the floors over the decades and fresh cigarette smoke; a lonely, flashing slot machine sat over in the corner. Charlotte's group had started off as the only ones sitting inside, but as the evening went on the bar filled up with a colourful host of characters, which she sat watching for much of the evening.

  The tattooed bartender with two missing fingers seemed to barely register their youth as he served the group of friends. Following the lead of Marta, Imogen, Henry and James, Charlotte felt bold enough to ask for a single shot of vodka to be added to her glass of Coca-Cola, but after slowly getting through her first drink decided that she didn't like the taste and then switched to a plain Coke.

  It could have been the drink, or the atmosphere and the company, but she felt quite at ease sitting there with her friends, talking about everything and nothing as the night rolled on. They all felt like family, with Charlotte being the littlest sister, fawned over by Imogen and company as she explained that it was her very first time in a bar like this. She thought it was a little strange how affectionate they became towards her, especially Imogen and James, with the former cooing over her like she was a baby, and the latter always with an arm slung around her shoulders, pulling her in close for hugs.

  Marta had encouraged Charlotte to follow her to the tiny bathroom in the back, and had looked her seriously in the eye and asked if she was all right, and if James was bothering her. She was quiet for a moment before she answered her. It was unusual to see Marta, always so cool and nonchalant, looking almost worried.  "I'm okay," she replied, trying to make sense of how all this attention felt. "It's kind of a lot, but I'm good."

  "You sure?" Marta asked again, her dark eyes searching hers. Charlotte nodded.

  "Yeah. Thank you, though."

  Marta nodded and seemed to accept her answer. "Wait here while I pee?"

  "Sure. Actually, I'll go, too."

  They went into the separate stalls, which were decorated in an odd mix of old concert flyers, scratched political stickers with half-missing slogans, and graffiti. Charlotte sat reading a strange poem scrawled on the wall in sharpie as she heard Marta speak.

  "James has got some real nerve tonight, being all over you like that."

  Charlotte shrugged, even though Marta couldn't see her. "Hm, maybe a little. It's fine, though." Her pulse still felt a little high, and she felt a touch jittery, but she couldn't really determine if it was because of excitement or nerves.

  "And that comment about the bowling, too-- just kinda gross, really. Time and place, man," Marta groaned.

  She blinked. "Huh?"

  "That thing he said in the parking lot, the good-at-bowling-or-good-at-head thing," she explained. "I couldn't tell if you were a little uncomfortable with it. Your friend Copia was uncomfortable, for sure. Nice of him to jump in like that to throw it off, mind you."

  "Uh," Charlotte paused as she got up and flushed. "Yeah. Yeah, he's nice." She exited the stall and washed her hands in the grubby sink, catching a glimpse of herself in the scratched and stickered mirror. She suddenly felt as if a wave had washed over her, and for a moment she felt entirely out of place and lost and so, so small. She wrapped her arms around herself and knelt her chin down to her chest, and hoped that she wasn't about to cry.

  "Hey," Marta's voice came through the stall door, sounding a bit trepidatious. Charlotte's head snapped up, and the emotion passed. "So, you can do what you want and all, but you don't gotta say 'yes' to everything, all right? Like, I know it can be exciting and shit, but you don't have to try everything people push towards you." A moment later and Marta came out of the stall and washed her hands. "Ready to head back out there?" she asked her.

  Charlotte glanced at her watch. "Sure, but maybe we shouldn't stay out too much longer." Marta must have been able to read her hesitancy to ask the group to take them home, as she nodded.

  "Sounds good. I'll tell them we've gotta be up early tomorrow. Don't worry." Then she took her hand and headed for the door.

  They got back to the Ministry safely enough around 10:15 PM. Marta accompanied Charlotte back to the girls' dormitories while James, Henry and Imogen went off to have a spliff—whatever that meant—in the gardens. As they walked Charlotte glanced over towards where Copia's room was and saw that the light was on behind the curtains. She couldn't help but smile fondly, and wondered briefly if she might go over to let him know they got back all right, and to wish him goodnight and safe travels for the next day.

  "Did you have a good time?" Marta asked her. "You don't wish you'd gone home right after bowling?"

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head and smiled.  "No, it was fun! Maybe I won't go out to that bar again, but I had a nice time. I do think bowling is more my thing, though."

 

 

  "So, how was the rest of your evening?" Copia asked her later on. They were sat on a low stone wall under one of the arches in the shade of the courtyard, having met in the refectory to grab an afternoon snack (a green apple for Charlotte, a carton of orange juice for Copia). "You got back in one piece, right?"

  Charlotte looked at him closely, trying to read him to discern his true feelings about being left behind. He was trying, and failing, to lean casually against the arch's pillar and seemed unsure as to how to hold his juice box. He'd asked the question breezily enough, but she thought she caught a hint of something underneath; perhaps jealousy, perhaps concern. Perhaps something else.

  He had just began to tilt his head, thinking she hadn't heard him, when she smiled. "Oh, it was good thanks!" she replied. "We got back kind of late, but we were fine. I missed you, though; I wish you'd come along with us."

  Copia smiled a wry smile down at his feet. "Oh, well, thank you for saying that, but it's all right. Not really my, uh, my scene, if you will."

  Charlotte nodded, thinking. "Still, I would have liked it better with you there. I think I might have drank too much and made a fool of myself."

  "Oh?"

  She hummed, cringing a bit at the memory. "Yeah, I'm not sure. We'd all drank a bit and were acting all silly, and--" she covered her mouth with her hand and let out a nervous chuckle. "And I don't really remember, but I'm a bit worried because I think that James and I..."

  She barely noticed Copia's eyes dart towards her in panic.

  "I think we held hands at one point, and I've been worrying that I gave him the wrong idea since!"

  Copia let out a laugh and doubled over, hiding his face for a temporarily. "Hooo," he sighed, sounding relieved. "I thought you were gonna say something very different then! Shit..."

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Don't laugh at me," she said, the corners of her mouth turning upwards to smile, too. "I know it's silly."

  It was rather silly, she thought, so why did it have such a grip on her? It had been a fine evening, overall, so why was she left with this sticky feeling afterwards? It would be so easy to slip back into that old way of thinking. No funny business, now, she could hear her Mom say again. Boys can be very convincing.

  But surely not every boy would be out to convince. They were just people, Charlotte reasoned, just people like girls but a bit different. Maybe quite a bit different, but not a different species altogether, surely. And in her limited experience since moving towns, boys weren't like the boogeymen she'd feared they'd be, mostly. Some, decidedly, had made her feel uncomfortable and unsafe, but never in a way where she was worried she would be convinced. She had some male friends at Dunkin', and here at the Ministry, who were perfectly fine and normal, and who made her feel seen just as a peer, not as some puzzle to be solved or as someone in need of convincing.

  Copia, for example, had never made it about that. It was kind of refreshing for Charlotte to come across a guy like him who was so very uninterested in her company to begin with-- and now that they were friends (I think we are friends at this point, she reasoned), spending time with him felt about as comfortable and easy as hanging out with any of her female friends. He wasn't crass, or boisterous, or anything of the sort-- on the contrary, he was quite gentle and sensitive, especially towards his pet rats. He was nice to be around, and he seemed to have enough interests and hobbies, like his rats and his books and his glam-metal, to not take any interest in her like that. And that was good. It was relaxing to feel secure in the idea that there was no possibility of that changing.

  Though he had settled down from his laughter Copia still couldn't keep an entirely straight face. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said earnestly, making an effort to meet her eye with his mismatched ones. "I probably shouldn't have laughed at that. Sorry."

  "Don't be," she replied lightly. "I worded it very poorly."

  They were both quiet for a moment. Charlotte turned her apple around and bit into its side, taking the time to wonder what to say next as she watched a squirrel scamper by. Copia cleared his throat.

  "Uh," he began. She looked at him, and he was no longer smiling. "You, um... When you said you think he got the wrong idea just now, did you mean-- I mean, um... Has James been bothering you?"

  Charlotte felt her shoulders relax from a tension she didn't know she had been holding. She shook her head and swallowed. "No, not really. He's said 'hi' to me in passing, but nothing more than that."

  He looked at her for a moment longer, and nodded. "Okay. Good," he said, trying a small, reassuring smile before taking another sip of his juice box.

  She nodded back. "Thank you," she said, quieter than she'd anticipated. "For checking in on me."

  "Sure, sure. You're welcome, ah-- that's what friends do, right? Look out for each other?" said Copia.

  Charlotte's face broke out in a wide smile. "Yeah, that's right. They do."

  Copia smiled back and nodded. Charlotte nodded back at him. They started nodding in tandem. Just two friends, sat on a wall together, nodding. They burst out into laughter.

  "So, asides from all that," Copia began. "What else is new?"

  She filled him in on her week: her meeting with Sister Marjorie had gone all right, all their studying together had paid off, and she'd been encouraged to get more involved in social activities around the abbey. She'd been looking around to see what she might be interested in, and was surprised by the diversity of hobbies.

  "So, even though the karate club was intriguing, I think I'm going to try out for choir, because I was in one back home before, and maybe the play. Have you seen the flyers they put up?"

  "Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe," Copia groaned. "Cliché. They've done it more times than I can remember."

  "If they've done it before, why are they doing it again?" Charlotte wondered.

  "Because it's popular with the public, and it's a fundraising thing. And they still have the props and costumes, so it saves on cost." He drained the last of his juice box. "So, you did theatre back home, too?"

  She shook her head. "No, we didn't really do school plays. Well, we did the Nativity in elementary school. I was Mary," she said, feeling a little warm with pride.

  Copia snorted. “Of course you played Mary.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, just look at you!” he laughed.

  She eyed him teasingly. “What are you saying, that I look all innocent and virginal? Are you really calling me ‘Mary’ like those boys did?”

  His face flushed beet red as he raised a hand to his mouth. He seemed to be scrambling for words. “No, no! I didn’t mean--!”

  Charlotte burst into laughter and watched the relief wash over him; he tried to frown at the trick, but couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “That is not what I meant!” he protested, shaking his head.

  "Relax, it's okay!" she told him. "So, who did you play in the Nativity?"

  He looked at her frankly. "Who did I play? In the Nativity? The Nativity of Jesus Christ?"

  "Oh," she laughed, and smacked her forehead. "Right, obviously. I mean, who did you play in your equivalent show as a kid?"

  "Well," he said. "I played 'Head no.4' of the Seven Headed Beast of the Sea in our Revelation play. It was kind of a pantomime-horse type of thing, but with a table with wheels at the back for one of the girls to sit on, you know, to look like she was the Whore of Babylon riding the beast."

  That struck her as rather weird, but she said nothing. Instead she asked, "Was it a speaking role?"

  "No," he chuckled. "I think we just snarled and growled a bit."

  Charlotte smiled and tossed her apple core towards the squirrel. "Sounds fun. Yeah, it'll be good to try something new. Are you going to audition?"

  "Nah."

  "No?"

  He shook his head.

  "All right, then," she looked over at him watching the squirrel drag the apple core away. He turned towards her.

  "Are you going to ask me to help you rehearse your lines, or something?" he asked.

  She felt a bit caught out by his question and how he'd predicted she'd ask that before she had even thought to. "Only if you're not too busy?"

  He shrugged. "Oh, why not."

Notes:

Hi all, thanks for reading, and sorry about the long wait! Sorry if it's not quite up to standard, I feel like I've got out of the habit of writing and maybe I rushed a little to get something out. Life's been busy and I have been procrastinating on my new tumblr account (link https://www.tumblr.com/ghostlytomatosoup?source=share ) feel free to give me a cheeky follow.
All the best,
Soup x

Chapter 11

  "Nice to have some new blood with us," said an elder Sister when Charlotte struck up a conversation with her at her first choir rehearsal.

 Charlotte didn't feel particularly nervous ahead of the meeting. Naturally, it was a new group of people, but she knew that they would be kind and welcoming to her, and she was excited to be part of a chorus again. She had managed to track down Sister Evie, with whom she had shared a kitchen shift several weeks ago, and who would be attending as well, and she had been kind enough to accompany her to the session and share her folder of sheet music ahead of time so that Charlotte could get an idea of the pieces they sang. Choir was held in one of the larger rooms in the building used for teaching and conferences, rather than in the church space itself. It had wood panelled floors, stacks of chairs which had been set out in a semi-circle, and a piano over in the corner. There seemed to be around twenty-five people already there, their chatter echoing around the room.

  It all felt rather familiar to Charlotte, but the solemn tone of this Sister (Sister Adelaide, she would later find out) sent somewhat of a chill through her.

  "I'm happy to join you," Charlotte replied.

  "And are you a Ministry person?" Sister Adelaide asked pointedly.

  Charlotte blinked, momentarily stunned. She chose to share a light laugh and asked, "Well, what's a Ministry person? I'm here at the Ministry, aren't I?"

  Sister Adelaide didn't return the smile. "I mean, have you always been a follower and transferred from another of our stations? Or have you come from outside?"

  Ah. "Well, no, I didn't grow up following Satanism," she began, choosing her words with care. "But I feel right at home here. It's where I'm meant to be."

  Sister Adelaide regarded her prudently. "So, would you describe yourself as liberated now? You're committed, are you?"

  Charlotte glanced around the nearly-full room, wondering when practise would actually begin. "Sure, yes ma'am."

  "But you haven't taken your confirmation vows yet."

  "No, not yet, Sister. But soon."

  "Not for another few years, at least."

  That was true, from what Charlotte understood. It did take years for novice Siblings to be allowed to take their vows and be confirmed in their practise, and there were many around the Ministry-- in this very room, even-- who, like herself, wore the novice vestments. Most of the Siblings her age were still in the probationary period, but she found herself fiddling with the fabric of her veil as she looked around trying to spot someone else to speak to. As the door was pushed open she expected to see the supposed choir master, but instead stared as she recognised Copia scuttling inside, head down. She turned back to the frowning Sister Adelaide and excused herself before crossing the hall.

  Copia had been bent over in retrieving a water bottle from his satchel when he heard Charlotte approaching a few feet away. She had just enough time to meet his eye and tilt her head curiously at him, when a large man entered the room and announced his own arrival.

  "So sorry I'm late, my Brothers and Sisters, but I'm here now!" the man, presumably the choirmaster, declared in a cheery singsong tone, clapping his hands for emphasis. He straightened out his robes, theatrically dabbed a handkerchief to his brow, and waved to a couple people as he made his way over to the piano in the corner and set his bag aside. Turning to the room once settled, the choirmaster cleared his throat and brought everyone to attention.

  "All righty everybody, good to see you all again. We've got a couple new people today, so please make them feel welcome. We've got Copia, who some of you might remember from a few years ago. Where are you? Give us a wave!"

  Charlotte smiled as Copia quietly sighed and gingerly raised his hand. The choirmaster shared a friendly wave towards the two of them.

  "And we also have Charlotte, so please help them out with anything they might need. Brother Copia," he went on, approaching them. "You're still a tenor, yes?"

  Copia took a reluctant step forward. "Mmhm." 

  "Good good, off you go to join them!" The man gestured off into the room and waited for him to depart before turning to her. "Charlotte, hello welcome, my name is Brother Joseph. Now, have you sang in a choir before?"

  "Yes sir, I was a soprano in a small choir in my hometown," she replied. She quite liked his jovial nature, and found herself beginning to relax and look forward to practice once again.

  Brother Joseph fixed her a close but not unfriendly look. "Forgive me for intruding, dearie, but, church choir, was it?" he asked in a hushed tone.

  She gave a discreet nod. Brother Joseph returned it with a sympathetic smile.

  "I understand," he said. "I was in your shoes not so long ago myself. I know how hard it can be; believe me, I've been through it, but we made it out, eh? If there is anything I can do to help, no matter how big or small, you find me, all right? I know it seems like an awful lot when you start out, but you've done the hardest part already."

  Charlotte nodded politely, and wondered if he might have her mixed up with another new convert, one from a stricter background or with a particularly troubled past. "Thank you, I was just wondering--"

  "Yes?" said Brother Joseph, all ears.

  "I was just wondering where should I stand?"

  He let out a jolly laugh. "Oh! Oh, just over there with the other sopranos. Great stuff, we'll begin in just a moment."

  Thankfully the sopranos did not include that Sister Adelaide. Charlotte only had time to nod a quick greeting to some Sisters she slightly recognised before a big, bright chord sounded from the piano as Brother Joseph got their attention to begin the warm-up scales. Her queries about what had been said to her this evening passed from her mind as she turned her attention towards the music.

 

 

  "So, you've done choir before!" Charlotte remarked. They were hanging out in Copia's room again a couple days later, which had become a fairly regular occurrence (they had taken to studying quietly together in the library on Monday evenings, and spending Thursday evenings here after dinner). Ostensibly, they were going to rehearse for the upcoming auditions for Doctor Faustus this evening, but she knew really that they would just sit and chat, and listen to one of the albums in his collection. She still didn't recognise half the artists' names, but among the ones she knew were plenty of albums that she liked, like Michael Jackson's Thriller, which Copia had put on at her request.

  Copia gave her a small smile as he fetched Bandit and Luna from the pen and carried them over. He passed Luna into his guest's hands and came to sit next to her on the floor, their backs resting against the bed. "I never said I hadn't. I was in youth choir from around, uh, ten until seventeen."

  "Aww," she beamed as Copia flushed. She decided to keep her mental image of a smaller Copia in choir robes firmly to herself.

  He shrugged. "It was fine, I guess, but I wanted to focus on my studies more."

  "You've got secret pet rats, you're a secret glam-rocker, you're a secret former choir kid. What else are you hiding?"

  He busied himself reaching for and opening a sachet of rat treats, holding one above Bandit's head so that she would go up on her hind legs to grab it. "Uh, I was really into sci-fi as a kid. I loved Star Wars, still do... I tried out boxing when I got a bit older..."

  "Boxing?"

  "Yeah, I needed to do some sports at some point, so my friend-- he's kind of more like a brother, really-- used to take me to a ring in town a couple times a week."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "Nah, not really."

  "Did you get hit in the head much?"

  "A bit. It explains a lot, heh?" he tapped his temple with his finger.

  "I wouldn't have thought of you as a sporty guy," she said.

  He laughed. "Oh, I'm not! I guess I follow baseball a bit--"

  "Boston Red Sox?"

  "No, uh, the White Sox."

  "Chicago? Ugh, traitor," Charlotte tutted, stroking along Luna's fur. "Just joking, I wouldn't say that I'm into sports, but I did enjoy dance and ballet when I was little."

  Copia was quiet for a moment, nodding his head to the music. "I also did ballet when I was a kid," he said at last.

  She glanced over at him. "Really?"

  "Mhmm."

  "How did you like it?" She didn't want to make it a big deal. She'd heard that boys who did ballet often got bullied and called 'gay' or effeminate, and she hoped that he hadn't had a rough time with it.

  "It was good. It was all right. But like choir, I gave it up after a while," he fished out another treat for Bandit and got her attention. "But the rats seem to have picked it up instead, look," he said as he guided the rat in a circle before rewarding her. Charlotte clapped quietly.

  "So you wanted to get back into choir again," she said.

  "Honestly?" he paused. "No, not really."

  "Oh. Why go back then?"

  He shrugged. "Well, kinda like for you, it was suggested to me that I should get out there and do more social things, talk to more people, and stuff."

  She listened and mulled over his words. "Out of curiosity," she began. "Were you in the habit of helping people with books before someone told you to be more social?"

  "I do several library shifts a week. Have done for years."

  "You know what I meant," she teased.

  Copia met her eye. "Would you be offended if I said no?"

  "No," she said. "Why would I be?"

  "Well... It makes it sound like I'm only doing this now because I was told to."

  "Are you?"

  "Well, no; and for the record, I guess I did ask if you wanted to talk about the book because it was my own idea. At least, while it was on my mind, right after that meeting. You don't mind?"

  "You can ask me to leave if you're tired of me," Charlotte smiled.

  He smiled back at her, and went back to fussing Bandit, who was getting excitable and a bit much to manage, trying to drag the treats sachet out of his pocket whilst he was distracted talking. He picked her up and went over to put her back in the pen. Charlotte continued petting the dozing Luna, and found her mind wandering back to those earlier days, remarking how long ago they felt, despite only being a little over two months ago. For some reason, it sent a twinge of sadness through her. 

  "Hey, can I get your thoughts on something?"

  Copia was sweeping up some rogue sawdust from the rat pen and glanced back at her momentarily. "Um, sure?"

  She adjusted on the carpeted floor, trying to get comfortable. "I feel like people have been treating me kind of weird lately," she said. "Nobody has said anything mean, but things feel sort of... off."

  "Yeah?"

  She nodded. "Like in choir yesterday, there was this lady, Sister Adelaide, and one of the very first things she said to me was 'are you a Ministry person?', and asking when I was taking my confirmation vows. She just seemed so... odd, and suspicious of me. Or Sister Evie last week, she was asking me what I thought of the sermon at Black Mass and how did I interpret the symbolism. Maybe it's just me, but I felt like she was testing me."

  Copia frowned as he came to sit back down again. "Ah," he said at last.

  "What? What is it?"

  He cleared his throat and took a moment to think. "Well, uh... Okay, so you haven't done anything wrong, to start."

  "You're making me nervous, now."

  He gave her an apologetic smile. "It's just that, until recently-- like, really quite recently-- we had to be very, very careful about being Satanists and allowing new members to join. You remember just a few years ago, right, when day-care workers and teachers were going to jail because people thought they were secret Satanists who were abusing kids. You understand why we kept a super low profile during the Satanic Panic, right?"

  She nodded. "I do. But none of that actually happens here..."

  "No, it doesn't-- and it didn't in those preschools either! But these people were crazy, full witch-hunt crazy. They went for people left, right and centre. And I mean, just look at us, look at where we are," he went on. "We're in an old, secluded abbey in the middle of the woods. It really fuelled people's imaginations about what went on here, and it was getting more difficult to hide. We were getting blamed for everything from missing pets, to kidnappings, to ritual abuse, to deliberately spreading AIDS around the Arkham area. We even had so-called 'investigative journalist' conspiracy weirdos trying to sneak onto the grounds to find proof that we were sacrificing babies to the Devil.

  "We went full lockdown after that, incredibly underground. Nobody wanted to attempt to explain to the police that, yes we're a Satanic church, but no, we don't do any of that, because we knew nobody would listen. We closed ranks, our security got really tight, and we basically only accepted newcomers who proved that they were raised in a Satanist family. For a long time most of the men were named Judas, Cain, or Adam, and the women were all Lilith, Jezebel, or Eve." A wry smile crossed his face. "We've changed since, but the fear from that time really sticks with some people here."

  Charlotte listened, and eventually let out a sigh. "So, do they think I'm a spy, or something?"

  From the sounds of the story he had told her, she had to sympathise with the abbey somewhat. She couldn't blame the clergy for still being a little cautious, she supposed, not when things had got so extreme, but she felt like she was under pressure to be a good Sister of Sin. Some things still just didn't click with her, things that people just seemed to know, unwritten and unspoken. Perhaps she wasn't trying enough. That must be it, she thought, there must be something that she wasn't doing that was preventing her from 'getting it', and that made the others keep some distance from her. At the very least, something about her wasn't improving people's perceptions of her. only she didn't have a clue how to fix any of this.

  She wondered if her very presence made the Siblings who lived through that time uncomfortable. Perhaps those people would be happier if she had never joined. Perhaps she didn't belong here, and perhaps the best thing she could do for them all would be to leave. It wouldn't be the first time she had packed up and left a community.

  "I wouldn't say that," Copia replied gently. He glanced over towards his boombox, where the tape had run out a few minutes prior, but stayed by her side. "They might just think that your heart isn't really in it yet."

  Sometimes she wondered that herself.

  He looked at her and rested his shoulder against hers. "Nobody can know that but you, though. I'm sorry that people have been judgemental and shitty towards you."

  "Thanks," she said. She took a deep breath, and gave Luna some gentle scratches behind her big ears, and felt herself begin to calm down a little. "I suppose it's only a couple people who have been a little iffy here and there. Marta is cool, and you're nice, even Evie and I get on all right, I guess. That Brother Joseph in choir yesterday seemed kind and fun, although..."

  "He's a little much sometimes, huh?"

  "Yeah! He was very welcoming, and he kind of made it seem like I'd escaped a cult."

  Copia nodded as he got up and went to switch the cassette to its B-side. The buttons made a soft, satisfying 'clunk!' as he hit play, and the opening drums and sirens of 'Beat It' came through the speakers.

  "Yeah, Brother Joseph is a nice man, but he's kind of like that because he did escape from a really strict background. I don't know the full story, but he doesn't hide that he grew up Southern Baptist and left. He wears it like a badge of honour, really, that he struggled and came out the other side. He's really pushed for the Ministry to be more open to new people."

  "Oh. Does he not get on with the others, the ones who don't think they should admit new followers?" Charlotte wondered.

  "Yeah, he did to begin with, when there was all this debate about what to do going forward. Oh, and it's 'members' to him, not 'followers,'" Copia corrected. "Joseph and some others believe that if you're following, then you're not choosing for yourself. You've gotta rebel and struggle to go your own way like Satan did, you dig?"

  She nodded. "I dig you, that makes sense."

  "Right. And of course, those who grew up as Satanists (and they're usually older and more traditional, like Adelaide) don't like being told by these new 'outsiders' that they're sheep or that they never had a hard time themselves, because they had to hide and suffered during the scare, too. But eventually the clergy decided that the craziness had passed and that it might be time to come out and be honest, prove we didn't have anything to hide-- and hey, we might even get some new members in the process!" He winked. "The only problem nowadays though, is that maybe there's a bit too much pressure put on 'breaking the chains of conditioning', as they call it, and going outside people's comfort zones. It's kinda ironic, heh? They want people to be free and then they tell them what to do."

  Charlotte didn't really know what to say in response to all of this information. It seemed like every group or organization had its divisions and infighting, with strongly-held beliefs on either side. She hummed, and tried to suppress a yawn while nodding along to the music for a minute.

  "That's a cool guitar solo," she said at last.

  "Oh yeah, it's Eddie Van Halen."

  "Really? The guitarist from the band, Van Halen?"

  "The very same," Copia smiled, bopping his head to the best and closing his eyes. "He does the guitar riff on 'Beat It', too."

  They listened and sang along quietly as the track faded out. "Thanks for not assuming I lived under a rock and didn't know who Van Halen were," Charlotte said, thinking back to the people she'd encountered who had thought she'd been sheltered even from rock music.

  "They're Van Halen, everyone knows about them," he snorted, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure I've got them on cassette somewhere, if you want me to put that on next?"

  "Sure!"

  He got up and sorted through his collection, humming to himself. "Hmm... No, I don't think it's in here. Nope." He shrugged. "It's either in the other box on top of the closet, or in the car. Sorry 'bout that."

  Charlotte smiled up at him. "No worries. Next time, then."

  "Next time," he repeated. He patted his boombox affectionately, and his eyes fell upon the forgotten copy of Doctor Faustus that Charlotte had placed on his desk when she'd come in. "Oh, uh, did you still wanna talk about the play, do some lines?"

  She paused, and then groaned. She'd had enough heaviness for this evening without bothering with the play's themes of choice and damnation, not to mention the old English. "No, I'm too tired for that. Let's just hang out. Oh, can you show me how to get Luna to do a spin like Bandit did?"

  "I can try, but she's very lazy," Copia chuckled as he came to sit next to her again. "She'll just want the treat. So, you get the treat in between your thumb and finger, and you've gotta get her attention first..." 

Notes:

Hi guys, sorry for the long wait, I've been moving! I'm still in the process so things will still be a little slow, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. What do you think of my idea of the Ministry being very underground during the Satanic Panic in the 80's, and of the infighting? Let me know your thoughts down in the comments, or message me on tumblr @ghostlytomatosoup
xxx