A very unimpressed nun looked back at me. She was about seventy years old, short and boxy, with a lined, weathered face. She was pointing a shotgun at Vasquez’s head, which was also where my hands were. I let go of his hair and jumped to my feet. “Who are you?” I couldn’t stop the question. “I’m Mother Superior. I’m the principal at this school. And this behavior is completely unacceptable.”
