Year of the Guilty Soul

by A M Leibowitz

“Find your instrument’s voice, Toni. You have it in you to be a great violinist.”

  It’s time to go get my scores. We stand, and I hesitate for a moment. I’m long past the age where it’s appropriate for a student to hug a teacher, but I do it anyway. I wrap my arms around her, and she squeezes back. It’s the only response I can give to someone who has been my favorite teacher for the last two years.

  The teacher at the scoring table hands me the sheet, and I take it with trembling fingers. I can hardly breathe as I look it over. Ms. Lorring is peering over my shoulder. I’ve gotten a ninety-eight, good enough to make the Tri-County orchestra in November, and more than enough for the community orchestra. When I look back at Ms. Lorring, there are tears in her eyes despite her wide smile. It’s all I can do to hold it together while I accept her congratulations.

  When Mom pulls up outside the school, I wave goodbye to Ms. Lorring and set my violin in the back seat. I settle into the front and buckle my seat belt then lean my head back. Mom glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Good. I got a ninety-eight.” I need to tell Mom about the orchestras, but I’m still feeling on edge. I close my eyes in an effort to keep from letting the tears fall.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  I crack one eye and turn my head toward her. “Yeah. Just exhausted.”

  “Well, lets get you home. Dinner’s in the oven and should be ready when we get there.”

  She pulls away from the curb, and by the time we’re on the main road, I’m drifting off to sleep.

  ***

  Over Memorial Day weekend, there was a spring retreat about an hour and a half from home. The whole point of these things is to get away and spend time with God and each other. Mostly what I got out of it was a lesson in how to embarrass the boys. Someone had a copy of Sassy, and there was a tampon ad in it. A girl had written into one of those “Dear Abby” kinds of things to ask if she was still a virgin if she used tampons. Somehow, the boys got hold of the magazine.

  I have never once in my life wondered if I was still a virgin after using tampons. Is that really a thing other girls think about? I’m a lot more worried that someone is going to find out I haven’t given up reading Mom’s romance novels, even though I’ve been through the entire shelf at this point. I also discovered her copy of The Joy of Sex. I’m not brave enough to steal it, but I did flip through it when I was in there on the phone with Hannah.

  The end result of the weekend away is that Gwen’s been hanging out with us a lot since then. She hasn’t brought anyone new to youth group in a while, so she’s taken us up as her makeshift hobby, I guess. Meanwhile, Hannah, Cari, and I have gotten closer too. It’s not so bad having Gwen join us, even if she does talk endlessly about whichever boyfriend she’s on.

  The thing with Noah was over almost as fast as it started. I feel bad for him. I can tell he really likes her, but she’s not as into him. She broke up with the dark-haired guy before moving on to Noah, and now she’s with someone new. His name’s Elliot, and even I have to admit how cute he is. He reminds me a little of Levi, but I can’t figure out why. They look a bit alike, though Elliot’s blond. Otherwise, they’re not similar aside from both being bookish. Maybe that’s what it is.

  Elliot’s family is new to our church. His parents are really strict, so he doesn’t seem as interested in being publicly groped by Gwen as her previous guys. Instead, he hangs out with a couple of the wannabe youth leader guys, learning how to play guitar as taught by one of our actual leaders. These guys are the seriously spiritual sort and can quote long passages out of the Bible and happily explain it to anyone willing to pay attention for more than five minutes. Except for Elliot, they’re all upperclassmen. Bonnie’s boyfriend, Steve, is one of them.

  Dad drops Sofia and me off at church on a Friday night the week after the retreat. There’s a fundraiser yard sale for the youth group’s senior mission trip to Mexico next spring, so we’re here tonight to set up instead of tomorrow for our regular meeting. I’ve only been here on Friday a handful of times, so I wasn’t aware of what else goes on during those hours. As I climb out of the car, I watch a curly-haired man who might be Dom’s age heading up the front steps. He has a big, black Bible tucked under his arm, and he looks around before hunching his shoulders and slipping inside.

  A few other men and one woman show up, and Sofia and I trail after them. They turn toward the staircase headed up to the classrooms, and Sofia heads the other direction down to the fellowship hall. When I go to follow her, the curly-haired man is angled so I can see his face. He and I lock eyes for a moment, and then he gives me a tiny, grim smile. I barely acknowledge it before I hurry to catch up to Sofia. I’m not sure what it’s about, but it makes a shiver creep up my spine.

  A number of the other kids are already in the social hall, talking in small groups while they arrange stuff on tables. I see Cari with Hannah, laughing and holding up the world’s tiniest tie-dye T-shirt. She’s wearing black jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket, even though it’s warm out. I like the way she’s drawn her hair up into a high, messy bun to show her dangling feather earrings.

  As much as I want to go hang out with her and Hannah, I need to check in first. I cross the room to where Gwen is talking to Bonnie and a couple of the adults in charge. Bonnie turns to smile at me.

  “Hi, Toni.”

  Gwen shakes out her blond hair. “Hey, Toni.”

  Once the leaders have marked my name on the list as present, I head for Hannah and Cari. Elliot is with Noah at the next table over, and they wave to me. I wave back, but I’m quickly swept up in peeling orange price stickers off the sheet and applying them to the junk on the tables.

  Three hours later, the room is ready to go. Tomorrow, we’ll all be back to take shifts at the register and rearranging items on the tables as people clear stuff out. It’s an annual tradition and one of the few big things I look forward to.

  Hannah, Cari, and I are outside on the main steps of the church, waiting for rides. A few feet away, Sofia is laughing with her friends. I used to feel jealous of how easily she connected with people, but now I realize I’ve found my group. Maybe one of these days I’ll finally be able to tell them some of the things I’ve kept hidden.

  Gwen comes up beside me. The four of us make small talk about the yard sale. We’re interrupted by a couple of older men coming out of the church. They’re elders, I think, and one of them teaches adult Sunday school classes. I know because Gran raves about his instruction. Seeing them reminds me of something.

  “Hey, guys.” Curiosity has gotten the best of me. “Do you have any idea what else meets here on Fridays? I saw a bunch of people coming in and going upstairs when Sofia and I got here. Is it an elders meeting?”

  Gwen glances over her shoulder before leaning in and whispering, “No. It’s a meeting for, you know, them. Homosexuals.”

  “Why?” I frown. Not that I’m up on the lives of gay men in my city, but Dom has never said he or Levi attend weekly meetings, certainly not at a church.

  She rolls her eyes and huffs. “It’s a prayer group.”

  “Why?” I ask again.

  “So God can heal them. Because it’s wrong, silly.”

  I know perfectly well that’s what our church teaches. The few times the pastor has mentioned it in a sermon, he seemed pretty clear about his opinion. It’s why I don’t feel right telling the others about Dom and Levi. But a prayer group to heal them? I wonder if that’s what Gran and Gramps think my brother should be doing. It’s not a topic of conversation at the dinner table, that’s for sure.

  I’m about to ask if the prayer group is only for men, but I remember there was a woman there too. I’ve never met any other women like her, that I’m aware of, but I know it’s why certain music isn’t on the approved list. I have a couple of tapes in the box under the bed that might be disqualified on those grounds.

  Before I can say anything, Gwen pulls her Bible ou
t of her backpack. She flips through it and finds some things which she highlighted for who knows what reason. Probably so she could show people like me, who she thinks are completely ignorant about important rules. She seems suddenly energized, eager to educate me.

  “See?” she says. “All of these show how God expects us to live. Those people at the meetings are trying to get right with God. Just between us, this is basically the worst kind of sin.”

  “Okay,” I mumble. I’m sorry I asked.

  “I think that’s ridiculous,” Cari says, startling me. “What makes it worse than anything else?”

  Gwen huffs. “Because it’s like what Paul says in the Bible. People burning with ‘unnatural lusts.’ Why do you think God is punishing them?”

  “Punishing them? What?” Cari looks like she either wants to rage or laugh.

  Leaning in, Gwen says, “Like God when he sent all the plagues on Egypt.”

  She emphasizes the word plagues, and I get her meaning. It’s a word I’ve heard used sometimes, and I know it only gets applied to people like Dom and Levi. Or Mr. Sullivan. My eyes sting with unshed tears, but I stay silent.

  Gwen shrugs and puts away the Bible. All I can think about is Dom and the men at church, how different they are. Dom is outspoken and politically active, but those men looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. The shiver I had earlier returns, this time accompanied by the low-level fear someone will find out about my family. There’s no way I want to tell them now.

  It doesn’t matter anyway. Dad shows up, and I yell for Sofia. She races over to claim shotgun, and I climb in the back. I wave at the others as we pull away from the curb.

  ***

  After the yard sale, I stay over at Hannah’s house. I’ll ride to church with her family in the morning. Her mom greets me with that forced politeness I sometimes get from adults who think my soul is in danger from living with so many non-believers. They don’t know my family, so they won’t let their kids go to my house in case they’re exposed to ritual sacrifices of virgins or something. Despite everything else, my family is honestly pretty boring ninety-five percent of the time.

  We hole up in Hannah’s basement. She pulls out the sofa bed, and we sprawl across it. She puts her copy of Princess Bride in the VCR, even though we’ve both seen it a bunch of times already. We take turns reciting lines along with the movie.

  When it’s over, we flip through Hannah’s magazines. They’re all the same stuff most of the kids at church have—CCM, Brio, Campus Life. She opens a recent issue of Campus Life to “Love, Sex, and the Whole Person.” This is secretly my favorite column, but no one else ever seems to talk about it. The only things we hear in church are what we’re not supposed to be doing.

  In this particular issue, someone’s asked a question about masturbation. The writer doesn’t call it that, but the advice columnist does. Just the word makes me cringe. It shouldn’t. Even Matteo can say it with a straight face. My parents are a little funny about Dom and Levi’s relationship, but they at least made sure we knew all the right terms for things.

  They don’t call it that at church, either. The only time it gets a mention at all is in this hushed, roundabout way when they’re talking about boys getting hooked on looking at Playboy. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t occur to them that this is a thing girls do, and I’m definitely not up for discussing it tonight.

  Hannah is, though. She reads us the advice columnist’s answer, which is surprisingly open-minded. There’s another question in there—he always answers two or three—about whether or not petting is okay. The answer is something vague about that basically being a form of sex. When she’s done reading, Hannah stretches and tosses the magazine aside.

  “Do you think he’s right?” she asks.

  I shrug, trying to seem like I don’t care. “About which part?”

  “That it’s okay to—” She wiggles her fingers.

  “I don’t know.”

  Hannah sits up. “My parents think it’s wrong, but they think everything is wrong. They can’t stand it that there’s, like, two swears in Princess Bride.”

  At the same time, we both recite Inigo Montoya’s last words before he kills the six-fingered man. We collapse into giggles before Hannah turns serious again.

  “I mean it,” she says. “It’s why Noah’s always doing stuff to get them mad.”

  I nod, wondering if I was one of those things. I have the impression Hannah’s parents don’t think highly of me, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I say, “I don’t think my parents would care.”

  “Well, mine do. How do you think I got to be almost to the end of junior year and still haven’t had a boyfriend?” Her cheeks turn deep pink. “I’ve never even kissed a boy. Meanwhile, Noah’s always messing around. My parents yell at him over the nail polish and the music he listens to and his homework. They don’t even know he’s smoked weed or that he and Gwen—” She stops herself, pursing her lips.

  “He and Gwen what?” I frown.

  Hannah bites her lip. “He says Gwen let him finger her at the lock-in back in April.”

  I scoff. “Boys always say that stuff.”

  “I don’t think he’s making it up. He was pretty crushed when she dumped him. He wouldn’t have messed around with her if he’d known they’d end up mad at each other after.”

  It wouldn’t be a big deal anywhere but in our friend group. Plenty of kids at school have done a lot more. I want to ask if Hannah thinks it’s wrong, what Noah and Gwen did, but I’m afraid she’ll think it’s because I still like him. I’m curious about what it felt like, but I definitely don’t want Noah’s hands anywhere on my body. He’s a good friend, and that’s all.

  “Oh,” is all I say.

  Hannah scrunches her nose. “I’m sorry he was such a jerk to you, especially with Gwen.”

  “It’s okay.”

  We don’t talk about it any more than that, and I’m grateful. Hannah goes upstairs, and I hear her rummaging around. When she comes back down, she has a bag of Cheetos she tosses into the middle of the pullout bed. She stretches out next to me and reaches for the television remote control.

  She turns on the TV and flips channels. “Would your parents be mad if you watch Saturday Night Live?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Mine would, but I’m sick of caring. They won’t check on us, and I shut the door.”

  We lay on our stomachs and share the Cheetos straight out of the bag. I’m half watching the show, but I’m also keeping an eye on Hannah. I have a vague, squirmy feeling in my spine, something brought on by lying next to her in our pajamas.

  It’s not the first time. When I was twelve, there was this girl I used to hang out with sometimes before she moved away. We didn’t have any classes together, but we had the same lunch. She was taller than me and had bigger boobs at the time. Back then, that was a big deal, who had boobs and who maybe used socks to fake it. She had stringy, dirty-blond hair and glasses, and she liked Star Wars and dragons.

  She slept over at my house a few times, but I liked going to hers better because she was an only child. She had a television in her room and an Atari 2600, and we would try to beat each other’s scores at Pac-Man. I never won. I liked watching her play, though, and something about her gave me the same prickly thrill I have now with Hannah.

  I finish licking the orange cheese powder off my fingers. Hannah is giggling madly at a penis joke on the show like it’s the first time she’s ever heard one. Maybe it is, given what she said earlier. She rolls toward me and starts to ask what I think, but I’m too close, and she bashes her nose into my cheek. It only makes her laugh harder.

  I’m laughing too, and then, out of the blue, she kisses me. Or I kiss her. It’s hard to tell because I think we both went for it at the same time. It’s sticky from the Cheetos, and neither of us knows what we’re doing. We don’t go any farther, which makes it awkward—we stop in the middle of it, and we both back away.

  We don’t say anything about
it afterward. I want to tell Hannah that it doesn’t mean anything, that I’m not like what some of the kids at school say about me. Except what if it does mean that? What if those feelings I had for my friend years ago meant more than liking her Pac-Man skills? I stare at the television, willing myself to focus on Dana Carvey. Except he’s playing the Church Lady, and all I can think is that she sounds uncomfortably like the church elders.

  Hannah coughs, bringing me back to my senses. She glances at me and says, “I’m not a lezzy, you know.”

  “I know,” I say. “Me neither.” But what if I am?

  She doesn’t seem to be able to read my thoughts, so I relax and go back to watching the show. But after it’s over, it’s a long time before I can quiet my brain enough to sleep.

  July

  This is my favorite time of year—high summer, far enough from either end of the school year to almost forget about it for a moment. There’s a traveling carnival in Cari’s part of town, and we all make plans to go for my birthday. It’s only a few streets over from her house, so we walk there. Even Gwen comes along. She’s seeing a new guy, Mark, and she brings him with her. He’s older than we are, almost nineteen, and just back from his freshman year of college. I guess he used to go to our church, but I barely remember him. He was a senior when I was a freshman, and we didn’t hang out much.

  It’s different between them than it usually is with Gwen. More serious. They’re not all over each other the way she sometimes is with the boys she brings to church. They hold hands while we walk up the crowded street.

  Noah doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he doesn’t like Mark. Aside from jealousy, there’s no good reason for it. Mark’s about the most polite person I’ve ever met—soft-spoken, not a harsh word about anything. He’s the kind of guy I’d bring home to meet Gran and Gramps. A little old-fashioned, I guess, but the type adults praise for having good manners. Gran would call him a “fine young man.” Come to think of it, he doesn’t seem at all like Gwen’s usual boyfriends.

  Whatever it is, he rubs Noah the wrong way, and it’s making our time at the carnival strained. I ignore Noah’s pouting and concentrate my attention on Hannah, Cari, and Elliot. There are only a couple of tame rides, which we try out. The rest of the time, we browse the booths and watch people trying to win at the games.