“Were you?” Sister Ernestine asked, panting as she reached us at last. “I was unaware that we were now holding tutoring sessions in the courtyard.”

“I think it’s a refreshing change. Studies show that exposure to nature helps people feel more energized, which heightens their sense of well-being and causes them to retain more information.”

“That may well be true.” Sister Ernestine stared at Becca with the same laserlike intensity I’d often seen Romeo focus on a piece of fruit I was holding in front of him. “But it won’t be good for Miss Walters’s well-being if she falls behind on her studies, and the bell for second period has rung, so I think she’d better return to class.”

“Oh, yes, of course. It was nice talking to you, Becca. Remember everything I said. You really should think about having a chat with your dad. And maybe your stepmom, too. She’s not so bad.” I wasn’t sure about that last part, of course, but it seemed like a therapeutic thing to say.

Becca eyed me skeptically as she gathered up her things. “Okay. Maybe I will. Thanks, Ms. Simon.”

“Don’t forget these.” I held out her glasses.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I don’t need them.” She didn’t add the word anymore, but it hung in the air like one of the many gold-and-black-winged monarch butterflies, tantalizingly close.

She turned and walked away. I’m sure it was only my imagination that she seemed to be standing a little taller than before.

If so, it was probably only temporary. She’d been through so much. She’d never “get over it,” an expression some patients liked to cling to like a life raft. When am I going to get over this crippling sense of guilt I have that I’m responsible for my best friend’s murder, Doctor? There would be no getting over what Becca had been through. “Moving on” was what Dr. Jo like to call it.

Which was funny because it’s what we mediators called it, too.

“What,” Sister Ernestine said, speaking out of the corner of her mouth so that if Becca looked back at us, we wouldn’t appear to speaking about her, “was that about?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” This, at least, was the truth. “If I could tell you, which I can’t. She thinks of me as her guidance counselor. So I have a professional obligation to keep everything she told me confidential.”

“Hmmm,” Sister Ernestine said as she continued to observe Becca’s progress across the courtyard. “Are you aware of your professional obligation to keep from cursing at and threatening our students and faculty, Miss Simon? Because Ms. Temple has filed a formal complaint against you for doing so. Apparently you terrified her first-period geometry class earlier today.”

I swallowed. “I’m also aware there’s an exception to the rule of student–guidance counselor confidentiality: when the counselor becomes aware of a situation that might put other students at risk.”

Sister Ernestine’s pale gray eyebrows rose. “Other students? What other students? Please tell me this doesn’t involve Sean Park. I know he and Becca Walters are lab partners in chemistry class. That boy is far too intelligent for his own good. I knew he was up to something. Miss Simon, we can’t afford this kind of thing, not now with what happened yesterday to Father Dominic at that girl’s house. Her father is a major donor.”

“No, Sister. It doesn’t involve Sean Park, or this school, at all. How well do you know Father Francisco over at Sacred Trinity?”

I had no idea what Sister Ernestine did in her personal time, but I hoped it wasn’t playing cards, because she had the worst poker face I’d ever seen. The second I said the name, her mouth twisted as if she’d just bit into the foulest tasting thing she’d ever had the misfortune to eat.

I should have known. Even Sister Ernestine had a him. Maybe every single woman in the world has a him. Men, too. I’d had the misfortune of meeting Jesse’s him once.

“Wow,” I said. “That bad, huh?”

She immediately assumed a more neutral expression. “So you weren’t out here discussing books with Miss Walters after all.”

“No. So, Father Francisco? What have you heard?”

Sister Ernestine looked prim. “I will not discuss my personal feelings regarding a fellow educator with an intern. Especially when three of my own students are knee-deep in the waters of a fountain that’s been preserved since the 1700s—”

I glanced at the girls. “They’re having the time of their life.”

“It’s the fountain I’m worried about, Miss Simon, not your nieces.”

“Look, Sister, I’m sorry about that,” I said, trotting to keep up with her as she began striding toward the fountain. When she wanted to, the sister could really motor. “But Becca’s having a really difficult time right now. She’s never told anyone, including her parents, what she just told me. I’m hoping she’s going to choose to come forward with the story herself. But in case she doesn’t, I’m going to need time to gather information before I can file a report.”

“Report?” The nun glanced at me sharply. “Against Father Francisco?”

“Well, he’s definitely involved. I was thinking I should go poke around over at Sacred Trinity to get more information . . . but please don’t worry,” I added hastily. “I won’t say I’m affiliated in any way with the Mission Academy. I’ll probably need the rest of the afternoon off, though.”

To my surprise, Sister Ernestine said, “Of course,” as casually as if I’d asked to borrow a pen.

I was so shocked I was rendered momentarily speechless. The nun used the opportunity to continue briskly, “But kindly remember that failure to report a known act of child abuse within thirty-six hours after you’ve become aware of it can result in a fine, six months in jail, or both. That’s California State Penal Code. So if that girl did say something about Father Francisco—or whoever—you’re obligated to report it. Just because the man’s good looking—and a priest—doesn’t mean we’ll be doing any covering up for him. I’m in charge now that Father Dominic is in the hospital, and what I say goes.”

And with that extremely startling statement, she turned to shout, with impressive force, “You, there! Emily, Emma, and Elizabeth Ackerman! Get out of that fountain right this instant.”