LESSONS IN SHADOWS (GL)

The bell rang twice-sharp and slow-echoing across the stone hallways. It was Wednesday morning, and the students knew exactly what that meant.

Confession Day.

Inside the classroom, wooden desks creaked as students rose in scattered unison, their hands already fumbling for the Rosaries tucked inside uniform pockets.

Quiet murmurs. Sighs. Shoes scraping the floor.

Angela glanced over and paused. Jennifer hadn't moved.

Her rosary lay untouched at the corner of her desk.

"Jen?" Angela's voice was low. "Are you not-?"

Jennifer raised her head slowly and gave a soft, convincing smile.

"I'm coming. Just go ahead."

Angela narrowed her eyes slightly, unsure-but Cynthia had already begun moving toward the door.

Jennifer waved lightly.

I'll be there."

She didn't wait for their footsteps to fade.

Once the hallway cleared, Jennifer stood, her body moving with steady purpose, though her fingers trembled faintly at her sides.

Instead of heading toward the long corridor that led to the benches outside the church wing, she turned in the opposite direction.

Down the side hall.

To the old computer room.

...

It was quiet-almost too quiet-and dim, the pale light of early morning creeping through the high, narrow windows.

She sat down at the second terminal from the end. The one nearest the wall.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

The screen flickered to life with a soft hum.

Her hands hovered above the keyboard.

She felt something was happening inside her-a heat, a restless low in her belly that she didn't know how to explain.

It came from her body,

And she wanted to understand it.

She typed slowly, hesitating at each word:

"Can a girl get...wet when touched by another girl?"

Pause.

Backspace. She cleared it.

Typed again: 

"Is it normal to feel good when a woman touches you?"

Another pause.

"Can girls have sex together? How?"

She stared at the screen, her fingers tense, breath shallow.

Then...

A soft breeze passed behind her..

It wasn't real wind-it was presence.

She froze

Lavender.

A familiar and unnerving scent she knew too well.

Then came the voice-low, controlled, unsettling in how calm it was.

"Why are you not at confession, Jennifer?"

Jennifer turned slowly, her body warming in a way she didn't fully understand.

And there she was-the presence that always made her move without thinking, the one who seemed to pull reactions from her without effort.

Miss Emily's eyes shifted briefly to the glowing computer screen.

"Just curious about something?" she asked, tone almost cruel in its gentleness.

Jennifer couldn't speak.

Miss Emily reached forward and slid one manicured finger over the chair's side lever.

Click.

The seat jolted slightly.

And then-

She pulled it gently toward her.

Jennifer's knees brushed lightly against her skirt. She looked up, uncertain, her hands still resting on the keyboard.

Jennifer's chest tightened.

Miss Emily leaned in, her voice landing softly at Jennifer's ear, warm enough to burn.

"There are things you can't always find on a screen," she whispered, lips curved in a secret smile.

"Sometimes...you need to ask the experts and let them teach you."

Jennifer didn't respond. She couldn't . Her eyes rose slowly, locking onto Miss Emily's. They weren't blinking. They were just there-caught in something fragile, charged.

A breath passed between them. Jennifer wasn't even sure whose it was.

Jennifer's voice came out in a hush, almost as if she was afraid of hearing herself.

"Don't you...find it weird?"

Miss Emily leaned just a fraction closer, as if breathing the answer against her skin. Her voice was calm, dangerous in how gentle it was.

"Aren't you enjoying it...? she asked, brushing her fingers against the edge of the chair.

"...why overthink?"

Jennifer froze, her breath catching. The closeness, the scent, the warmth-all of it blurred reason.

There was no clear. Only feeling.

Miss Emily's fingers had drifted up, brushing the side of her head as if tucking away an invisible strand of hair. The room felt smaller, quieter.

Her hand slid gently down, skimming Jennifer's shoulder, her movement slow, deliberate. Her knee pressed softly between Jennifer's, guiding her body into a new kind of stillness-one that trembled just beneath the surface.

"Your holding your breath," Miss Emily murmured near her ear. "Relax... Let yourself feel. Sometimes, that's all you need."

Jennifer's voice came out in a breath, almost a whisper.

"Not here..." she said, glancing toward the door. Her eyes darted to the corners of the computer room, her body tensing. "Someone might come."

Miss Emily didn't step back. Her fingers lingered, unfazed by the warning.

"Just a little quick," she said, "Don't you want me to brighten your mood?"

It was like a rush of lilies blooming in spring-soft, sudden, and overwhelming. The sensation bloomed too fast, too wild, and in that unguarded moment, Jennifer leaned forward and sank her teeth gently into Miss Emily's shoulder-not out of intent, but reaction. Miss Emily stilled, startled, her breath catching just slightly, as though she hadn't expected the flower to have thorns.

Jennifer blinked, startled, and instinctively pulled herself back. Miss Emily just smiled-brief, soft, and unreadable. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I like it."

Jennifer blushed.

Miss Emily reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small packet of tissues. With a faint, knowing smile, she handed few to Jennifer.

"Take them," she murmured softly. "I think you need them."

Jennifer didn't say a word. She took the tissue with slightly trembling fingers.

Suddenly, they heard a shift of footsteps echoing down the hallway-getting closer.

Miss Emily didn't flinch. With an effortless move, she reached for the chair-the very one she had pulled so boldly toward her just moments ago-and slid it back into place, as if nothing had happened.

She moved behind Jennifer, one hand gently brushing the girl's shoulder in passing, her voice low and calm.

"Focus," she whispered, tilting her chin toward the screen.

Jennifer blinked hard, swallowing the heat still rising in her chest. Her fingers found the keyboard, though they weren't typing anything.

From the doorway, the footsteps paused. A quiet knock followed.

Just as the silence between them settled, the door creaked open.

Sister Margret's sharp yet calm voice followed immediately, "Finally, I've found you."

She stepped into the room, eyes scanning until they landed firmly on Miss Emily. "Miss Emily?" she said, then her gaze shifted to Jennifer. "Jennifer, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be at Confession."

There was a brief pause- just enough for Miss Emily to recover her composure.

"It was my mistake, Sister Margret, "Miss Emily said smoothly, with a faint smile. "I asked Jennifer to stay back and help draft a report to the Physics Club. I thought she could finish before Confession."

Sister Margret raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she gave a curt nod. "Next time, please ensure she doesn't miss it. Confession is a spiritual duty-not to be postponed. I trust you understand that, Miss Emily."

"Yes, sister. Completely," Miss Emily replied respectfully.

"Good," Sister Margret said, adjusting her veil slightly. "Come with me. We need to discuss the recent disciplinary concern in Form Three South. You know the one."

Miss Emily gave Jennifer a final glance-measured, unreadable-and then followed the principle out of the room, her heels echoing softly against the stone floor.

Jennifer glanced at her wristwatch. Eight o'clock.

The morning Confession hour was over. She sighed, adjusted her uniform, dropped the used tissues quietly into the bin near the computer room door, then made her way back toward the Form Four South class, her footsteps quieter than usual.

When she reached the classroom door, the first lesson had already begun. She slipped inside as softly as she could, moving toward her seat near Angela and Cynthia. But before she could sit, Angela gently reached out, stopping her.

"You didn't come to Confession?" Angela whispered, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "You said you'd be right behind us."

Cynthia leaned in too, her voice laced with concern. "Are you all right?"

Jennifer opened her mouth, but the words didn't come immediately.

Behind them, Maria's voice cut through the quiet like a sharp needle. Loud enough for the front row to hear, but masked with fake innocence, she said,

"First it was the assignment...now some people can't even make it to Confession. Must be a very blessed morning."

A few students snickered, but Angela turned her head with a glare.

Jennifer didn't respond. She simply pulled out her chair and sat down, and began taking her books from the locker, her movements calm and unhurried- as if she hadn't heard a thing. 

...

The door clicked open softly, and in walked Miss Emily, wrapped in her usual grace- though today, something was different. A pale silk scarf was draped around he neck, oddly out of place for the warmth morning air.

"Good morning, girls," she said, her voice calm, eyes scanning the room like always.

"Good morning, Miss Emily," the students chimed, though a few frowned. Their gazes lingered on the scarf.

From the back row, Maria, ever the observer, raised a brow, clearly amused. Her voice carried across the room with innocent mischief.

"Miss Emily are you feeling unwell? It's quite hot today for a scarf..."

Miss Emily paused briefly, then offered a polite smile, unfazed. But before she could speak, a soft, breathy laugh slipped from Jennifer.

It wasn't loud, but it cut through the air like a spark on dry grass.

Heads turned. Even Angela stared, surprised.

Jennifer rarely laughed. And certainly never during class.

She looked down, flipping her Physics book open, the corners of her lips still fighting a smirk.

Miss Emily's eyes lingered on her a moment longer-unreadable-then turned back to the lesson.

Maria, in the back, narrowed her eyes slightly. She missed nothing. And Jennifer...Jennifer was still smiling.