On the top of the hill it stood, proud and majestic in the light. An eternal tribute to the generosity of those who would pay to abdicate responsibility. The long windows sparkled like jewels in winter snow. The steps leading to the main doors had the hard, rich gloss of marble. It was important never to be alone on those steps.
The building was surrounded by gardens so well kept not a blade of grass differed one from another. Like soldiers in a row the shrubs swayed in identical formation at any passing breeze. If you looked you could see the boys carefully and quietly tending the gardens, digging and weeding, never looking up, never stopping. Visitors came and went with smug, secure assurance. No one ever looked.
The bells rang and you woke. It was early but you didn't complain or hesitate, you threw the thin, single blanket off the bed and quietly got your things together. You didn't stop to look at anyone, a whisper to a friend was all you dared as you walked quickly and very quietly to the door.
In the bathroom you broke the ice on the water and washed quickly, making sure your hair was wet so that anyone glancing at you would know you had washed. You rushed to dress, muttering as frozen fingers red and sore fumbled at buttons. There was a bit of a crush around the door as everyone rushed to get out. No one wanted to be left alone in the bathroom.
You walked quickly down the long, wide shining hall. The boys in front, beside and behind you jostled for the safest spot. You didn't notice how the floor, windows and woodwork shone, why should you you and two others had scrubbed and polished them the day before, after mass you would do it all again. Sparkling clean statues of the saints stared down at you from their lofty shelves. You needed a ladder to clean those.
At the top of the stairs two of them stood waiting, your eyes narrowed and silently you melted into your carefully selected spot in the middle of the suddenly long single file. As your foot trod on the second step the boy stepping down behind you was hauled away, no reason was given or needed. No one looked. You shivered and didn't know if it was from the cold or from relief. You almost smiled as the bottom of the long wide flight came toward you. As far as you were concerned the day was off to a good start if you got down the stairs unnoticed.
The day began with Mass and you joined the long queue to get in. Two boys arrived late, there was a brief sound of shuffling as you and others made room. No one looked, it was even more important not to notice red eyes or bruises. The last boy arrived, he was limping. He slipped and almost fell as he reached your pew. No one reached to steady him. He caught the edge of a pew at the back and struggled to hold his footing on the floor the boys had scrubbed and polished. Something dripped from his leg to the floor. No one looked.
At the top, the priest appeared, casually straightening his belt or as you had been taught to call it his cincture. At last he stood in front of the alter resplendent in the vestments the boys had washed and ironed. The sound of the organ filled the air as the choir began to sing. You risked a brief glance up as the guests smooth and pampered in the front opened their hymn books and joined in the singing. If you looked you could see the tears on young faces as the beautiful music filled the air conveniently muffling the choked back sobs. No one ever looked.
