Free Infatuate by Aimee Agresti Page A

limited resources,” Connor explained as he shepherded us out of the house. “So before reporting for tutoring and counseling duties every afternoon, you’ll be on a rotation aiding New Orleanians near and far.” He stopped before the mansion next door. My pulse picked up. “Lance, Brody, and Tom, you’re here today.” I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Lance gave a wave as he went inside.
    “Between you and me, I’m kinda glad not to be in that place,” I whispered to Dante.
    Connor led the rest of our group on a walk winding through the streets. When we reached wide, bustling Rampart Street, he stopped.
    “Haven, Sabine, and Drew, you’re at Saint Louis Cemetery Number One, just past that church there. They’re expectin’ ya.”
    “Huh?” I asked. Dante let out a single staccato cackle, then flung his hand over his mouth. Connor looked up but didn’t say a word.
    “Yeah, way better than a haunted house, Hav,” Dante said. “Enjoy.”
    “Dante and Max, you’re at Priestess Mariette’s Voodoo Temple.” Connor pointed down the street to a sign blowing in the warm breeze.
    “Are you serious?” Max asked.
    “Yep. Go on! That’s a lady you do not want to keep waitin’.”
    “Awesome,” Dante said cheerfully.
    “The rest of you guys, come with me. We’re hitting a food bank a few blocks down for some Meals on Wheels action. See y’all later at the library. Make me proud!” he instructed as he left us.
    The smooth gray façade of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church beckoned from across Rampart Street, its spire piercing the cloudless morning sky. According to our packets, the contact here was a Sister Catherine. Well, a nun would certainly be a change from my last boss.
    Just inside the church’s heavy white-painted doors, a small tour group had gathered, their guide spouting facts in a whisper amplified by the vaulted ceiling. The only other sounds came from the creaks of the dozen or so parishioners shifting ever so slightly in their wooden pews, lost in their own thoughts and prayers. Light streamed in through stained-glass windows, speckling bits of color against the sharp white walls. I hadn’t actually spent a ton of time in any church, with the exception of the small, cozy chapel nestled within the hospital, where I had often escorted the family members of patients or, better yet, been dispatched to retrieve loved ones when there was good news. The silence here was so deep it made me aware of every clumsy step and noisy breath I took. I felt like everyone was looking at me. Sabine was slightly less concerned about that sort of thing.
    “I totally love this,” she whispered to Drew, tugging on her burlap-like messenger bag. “Hav, you need one of these. Get rid of that backpack.”
    “I was going for, you know, geek chic,” I whispered back, embarrassed.
    “I think it’s nice,” Drew said. I liked that she was one of those people who could be counted on to be polite no matter what.
    “Yeah, no.” Sabine shook her head at me. “We’ll work on it. But what is this? Hemp?”
    “Yeah, but it’s really softer than it looks,” Drew said, holding it out for Sabine to pet. “I love a good hemp. Connor actually talked me into it.”
    I was suddenly paying attention. “You went shopping with Connor?”
    Drew shook her head. “No, I met him back home at this vegan shop I used to go to a lot, and he convinced me I had to get one. I guess he has one too.”
    Sabine and I looked at each other. “That guy gets around,” she said.
    “What?” Drew asked, confused. But we didn’t get to explain.
    I felt the lightest tap on my shoulder, like a bird landing there, and couldn’t help being startled. I spun around to find a tiny woman in a habit, only her milky, moon-shaped face exposed. Hands clasped before her, she smiled with pruned lips. She looked to be in her seventies, at least.
    “Hello, girls. You must be from the student program,” she greeted us in a delicate voice that crackled