‘They didn’t giveusany time to study,’ Atlas says. ‘We just arrived at school one day and they sprang the Examination on us.’
‘What?’ I say. ‘Why?’
Atlas shrugs. ‘We never had enough teachers to go around and they had to do it on a day when they could get enough examiners in, so they had no time to let us know.’ He frowns and lays his head down beside mine. ‘Or so they said.’
‘Well then, it’s no wonder you failed,’ I say angrily.
I think of the months of studying I did, how my desk was piled high with textbooks. I complained at the time, but at least I had the chance to prepare myself.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I’d probably have failed anyway. I’m not like you, Featherswallow.’
‘Like me?’
‘You know … academic.’
I roll my eyes and laugh. ‘If only I could see myself theway you see me. “Empathetic, academic—”’
‘Unbelievably beautiful?’ Atlas says innocently.
I keep my eyes on the ceiling as I feel my cheeks blush. How much champagne has he had? I want to look at him, but I suddenly feel slightly terrified.
Atlas clears his throat. ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘That was—’
‘No!’ I say, a little too loudly. I turn on to my side to face him. ‘That was … fine.’
We’re so close I can count the tiny moles beneath his eye. His breath tickles my cheek and his lips are parting as if he’s about to whisper something. His hand finds my hip as he leans over me. I feel his warmth through my dress. Our faces draw closer and his mouth is above mine …
Atlas sits up. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I can’t.’
My heart races as I fight the urge to pull him back down. A dark expression crosses his face. He looks confused, angry even.
‘What’s wrong?’ I whisper.
I sit up. Why didn’t he kiss me?
‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ he says.
I try to smile, but my mouth just twists into an awful, pained grin.
‘But my … vocation,’ he says awkwardly.
His what?
‘To the priesthood.’
Oh.
‘Priests don’t … they’re not supposed to …’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, my face burning. ‘I know.’
How could I have been so stupid? Priests are celibate – everyone knows that.
‘I always forget,’ I say, ‘that you’re a priest.’
‘In training,’ he says.
This time, the correction doesn’t make me smile.
