“Alaina.”
I look up and find Holly sitting beside me in Adam’s vacant chair.
“He’ll be right back,” she says, as if she can read my thoughts.
I nod, willing myself to believe her. “Do you guys think she’s pretty?”
Holly snorts and on the other side of the fire Jacki lets out a laugh.
“She’s alright, if you’re into crazy chicks with asshole fathers,” Drew says. “Personally, not my thing.” He winks at Holly.
Serena hasn’t said anything and I realize it’s because she’s turned in her seat watching the heated exchange between Adam, Bryce, and Brittany. “I never should have brought him,” she mutters. “God, I should have known.” She shakes her head and turns back around.
It occurs to me then that Serena has romantic intentions with Bryce.
Adam’s voice carries across the yard. “What part of no do you not understand? I’m with someone else. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to be friends with you. I want you and your dad to leave me alone.”
Jacki makes a hissing sound through her teeth. “Ouch.”
“There’s another relapse in the making,” Drew snorts.
“Relapse?” I ask as my marshmallow bursts into flames. I pull it from the fire and blow it out.
Holly sighs. “Brittany has…issues. She goes through cycles, sort of. She’ll get real hung up on Adam, chase him for a while, stalk him, send her dad after him. And then when he gets sick of it, he goes off on her, just like this, and she tells everyone she’s going to kill herself until her parents check her in to the hospital.”
I frown at the girl now sobbing into her hands in the middle of the yard and for a moment, feel a twinge of sympathy for her as Adam turns his back and Bryce hovers near her, glancing at us like he’s not sure what to do.
How does someone get “hung up?” Do I run the same risk now? Do all girls get hung up on boys? Maybe this is why the Elders were so adamant about maintaining physical distance and courting only for marriage.
I disregarded the rules. I’ve been courting him and he has no intention of marrying me, that I know of. And we’ve held hands, stood too close, even kissed. I’ve tasted him.
My stomach swoops at the memory.
I’d do it all again, I realize. I’d break a thousand rules, a thousand times over for Adam.
I’m hung up on him and it scares me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALAINA
Beth wakes me up by knocking on my door.
“Alaina?”
I lift my head off the pillow as she opens the door a crack. My hair smells like smoke and my eyes feel like there’s sand in them. Holly drove me home from Drew’s house late last night. So late, in fact, we had to call to ask Beth for an extension on our curfew.
I’m still wearing the bright pink and orange shirt Adam bought for me. As I sit up in bed, just looking at it makes me smile.
Beth stands in the doorway.
“Come in,” I say, moving my legs under the blankets to make room for her to sit on the bed.
She crosses the room and perches on the end before clearing her throat. I wait for her to smile or say something, but she seems to be struggling.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. Oh no! What if Holly told her that I kissed Adam? What if she’s angry with me for being so loose? Running around at all hours of the night, kissing boys, dressing flashy…
“Your mother sent another letter,” she says finally.
I let out a breath. “Oh. Okay.” I hold out my hand.
She winces and holds the white envelope just out of my reach. “I opened it and read it. I hope you’re not mad.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Of course not.”
Beth nods and hands me the envelope. “I’d like to make a copy of it when you’re done.”
“A copy? Why?”
She presses her lips together, her eyes going soft. “Well, sweetie, your mother…the things she writes…” She shakes her head, unable to finish. “For Ms. Jackson. Ms. Jackson needs to know about these letters.”
I shrug. “Alright.”
Beth waits while I read the letter.
Alaina,
You have been given a choice and you continually choose to flout the Lord’s commands. I have witnessed with my own eyes the way you engage physically with sinner boys, the way you dress in men’s clothing, and adorn yourself to call undue attention. Your day of judgment will be sooner rather than later. I beg you to repent now before the price of your transgressions is too great for you to pay.
The Lord has spoken to me and asked me to share his words with you. The Book of Leah, chapter one states: Any son or daughter who strays from the path will be corrected with a swiftness so as not to prolong their wrongdoing. And those who will not be corrected will be exorcised of their wickedness with force.
Do not make me exorcise your wickedness, daughter.
I am watching, as is the Lord.
~Mother
I glance up at Beth with wide eyes.
“To say I’m concerned is an understatement,” she says, taking the letter from me.
“I only kissed him,” I blurt. “We didn’t fornicate!”
Beth blinks at me. “Honey, I’m concerned about your mother. Not… You kissed who?”
My cheeks get warm. “Adam,” I say quietly.
“Oh.” She looks down at the letter. “Is that what she’s talking about? How would she possibly know that?”
I’m unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t know. She’s followed me before.”
She shakes her head and glances down at the letter. When she looks up at me again, her face is drawn and colorless, but she smiles anyway as she pats my leg through the blankets. “I’ll let you go back to sleep.” She stands, heading for the door with the letter in her hand, turning to me just before she leaves. “Oh, there’s an orientation at the school tonight. It’s for freshmen, but I thought you might like to go and see everything for yourself.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Great,” she says, before disappearing into the hallway and closing the door behind her.
I don’t go back to sleep after Beth leaves. Instead I take a shower, while Mother’s strange letter replays in my mind. The Book of Leah? I know there are books of the bible named after women, but the Elders always made sure we all understood what 1 Corinthians 14:34 commands: Women are to be silent in the church. Even on mission trips, women only go along as companions to the men. They aren’t permitted to speak or minister to anyone.
Still, that isn’t the most disturbing part. I don’t know if Beth understood what Mother meant by “exorcising” wickedness with force, but I do. It’s similar to the punishment I received, but can last for days. It’s usually the last measure taken before shunning.
A boy my age received an exorcism after he was caught touching himself for a second time. It lasted four days. They whipped him every morning on the steps of the Chambers and then forced him to do manual labor until sunset, when they whipped him again.
Holly barges into the bathroom while I’m still in the shower, making me jump.
“Hurry up. We’re going to IHOP,” she says.
I cover my chest with my arm and do my best to conceal my lower half, though she can’t see through the shower curtain. Still, memories of Naomi and her friends ripping open the curtains while I bathed flood my mind.
“Okay. Please leave,” I say, my voice coming out higher pitched than normal.
She snickers from the other side of the curtain before tapping it with her fingers. “Ooh! I’m gonna peee-eek!”
“I’m serious, Holly. Please?” I beg.
Beth’s voice filters in from the hallway. “Holly! Leave her alone! Go use the other bathroom!”
I wait, holding my breath as Holly shuffles out. And then for good measure, I wait another several seconds to make sure she’s really gone.
I spend the day studying, trying to understand how the Lord crea
ted the earth only six thousand years ago, but dinosaur fossils are millions of years old. I’m interrupted mid-afternoon when my phone buzzes on my dresser. I expect the screen to show Adam’s name, but instead, it’s a call from a number marked “Private.”
Frowning, I pick up the phone and answer. “Hello?”
“Did you receive my letters?” Mother’s voice sends a chill up my spine.
“Yes,” I say quietly. Should I go get Beth? Mother isn’t supposed to contact me like this. Ms. Jackson said so during our last visit.
“Good. You will stop seeing that boy, do you hear me?”
I open my mouth to respond with an automatic yes, but I can’t.
“Alaina?”
“How did you get this phone number?”
She’s silent for a long time and, for a moment, I think she hung up. And then she says, “The Lord sees all and knows all, Alaina. You cannot conceal anything from Him or from me.”
Frowning at the top of my dresser, I whisper, “Did the Lord give you this phone number?”
“It does not do well to dwell on things you are not meant to know or understand.”
Outside my bedroom door, Beth walks past with a basket of clean laundry. I hurry over and silently wave her to me. “I’m sorry, Mother,” I say pointedly while staring at Beth with wide, panicked eyes.
Beth’s mouth pinches and she reaches for the phone, taking it from me gently. “Leah, you can’t do this,” she snaps. I’ve never heard Beth snap. Even when reprimanding Holly, she’s calm and controlled. Now, though, quiet anger bubbles under the surface. “You’re violating the-” She scowls and pulls the phone away from her ear before looking at me. “She hung up.”
I take the phone back from Beth.
“Text that number to me and then block it, sweetie, okay?” The kindness has returned to Beth’s voice, but her face is another story. Her jaw is set and her brow is furrowed, causing deep creases in the skin between her eyes. “I’ll take care of this. Of all of it.”
Nodding, I quickly send the phone number to Beth and then do as she says. I block Mother’s phone number.
Beth cancels our trip to the orientation at the school. Instead, we go to visit Ms. Jackson to discuss Mother. When we arrive at her office, she welcomes us warmly, eyeing my braided hair and jeans.
“Adjusting nicely, I see,” she says with a smile.
I smile back, but stay silent.
“We have to do something about Leah,” Beth says as we all settle into the big leather chairs in Ms. Jackson’s cluttered office.
Ms. Jackson’s strawberry colored hair sways as she scoots her chair closer to her desk. “Has she sent more letters?”
Beth nods and pulls the letter from this morning out of her purse. She hands it across the desk to Ms. Jackson. “This one is even more…imbalanced than the last,” she says.
I sink into the chair and chew my lip as Ms. Jackson reads the letter with raised eyebrows. She’s going to think I’m a whore after she reads about how I physically engaged with a sinner boy. The way Mother’s letter words it, though, it sounds like there has been more than one boy.
Ms. Jackson puts the letter down, draws in a deep breath, and looks up at me. “Have you seen her? Has she shown up anywhere and tried to speak with you?”
“She called this afternoon,” I say, glancing at Beth.
“She called Alaina’s cellphone,” Beth clarifies.
Ms. Jackson nods. “And you didn’t give her the number?”
I shake my head.
“What did she say?”
Glancing at Beth, I turn back to Ms. Jackson. “She told me I wasn’t allowed to see Adam anymore.”
Ms. Jackson tilts her head. “And Adam is…?”
“A friend,” Beth says, and I’m grateful not to have to answer. “He’s been helping her adjust.”
She sighs. “Well this all took a turn, didn’t it?” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. “You know, I’ve spoken to Leah almost every day. She’s made great strides to do the things the court has asked of her. She has a job and is renting a room while she saves for an apartment.” Ms. Jackson shakes her head sadly. “She had me fooled. I asked her, point blank, this morning if she’d been trying to contact you. She said no.”
“She lied,” I say.
Beth leans forward in her chair. “She was here this morning? In your office?”
Ms. Jackson nods. “Came in to drop off some cinnamon rolls.” She gestures to the white and tan box with the blue Cinnabon ribbon on the lid sitting on the corner of her desk.
Beth’s eyebrow quirks up. “Is it possible she got Alaina’s number from your files? Maybe when you weren’t looking?”
Ms. Jackson opens her mouth and then closes it, frowning at her desk, piled high with folders and stacks of papers.
How would Mother even find the right file in this mess?
“It’s possible,” Ms. Jackson finally admits, her eyes sliding to a plain folder with ROBERTS written across the top edge in bold, black letters. “I did step out for a moment to get us each a cup of coffee.”
Beth sits back in her chair and draws in a deep breath while Ms. Jackson starts straightening her desk.
“So what do we do now?” Beth asks.
Ms. Jackson stacks papers, refusing to meet Beth’s eye. “If you file a protection order on Alaina’s behalf, the next time Leah contacts her, you can call the police to deal with it.” She looks up. “It will complicate things for her as far as winning back custody.” Her eyes shift to me. “She’ll be served with papers and the rules of the order will be explained. A judge will review the order in thirty days and you’ll have an opportunity to continue it, or drop it. And during that time, you won’t be permitted to visit with your mother at all. No contact.”
I nod.
Beth turns to me. “Are you okay with all of that?”
My eyes drop to my lap and I twist my fingers anxiously. Am I okay with this? I don’t want to cause trouble for Mother. I don’t want her to think I don’t love her. I don’t want her to be mad at me. She’ll see it as a betrayal. She’ll see it as me choosing a side and turning my back on her.
But Beth was right when she said Mother seems strange. Claiming to be a prophetess is something she would have been flogged for in Shiloh. Possibly even shunned. And I can’t ignore her threat of exorcism or the fact that she followed me to the movie theater and most likely has followed me other places.
“I think…” I swallow with difficult, my throat suddenly dry. Looking up at Ms. Jackson, I tell her the truth. “She scares me.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ALAINA
Everywhere I look, I think I see Mother. It’s been two days since Beth filed the protection order. Holly talked me into coming to see a movie with her and Jacki as a distraction, but it isn’t working.
Standing in line for popcorn, a woman emerges from the nearby bathroom wearing a long black skirt and white top. My blood runs cold and my lungs constrict until I realize it’s not her. This woman’s hair is shorter and she’s much older than Mother. She smiles and greets a bald man leaning against the wall and they walk, hand-in-hand, toward the exit.
“Alaina, you okay?” Jacki nudges me.
“Fine,” I say, still watching the woman.
The movie we see is nothing like the one I watched with Adam. This one is about people attending college. Holly calls it a “Zac Efron movie,” but I can’t figure out what that means. I can barely follow what’s happening in the story because I keep having to look away when they show inappropriate things. Holly and Jacki laugh through the whole thing, but I’m at a loss as to what’s so funny.
Afterward, Holly insists that we get cinnamon rolls. I take a seat at an open table in the food court while the two of them head over to Cinnabon. I’m on alert as I sit there, my eyes moving constantly, scanning the crowds that walk by for signs of Mother.
It doesn’t take long for Holly and Jacki to return with oversized cinnamon rol
ls, smothered in icing. Holly glances at me nervously as she takes her seat.
“What is it?” I ask.
She exchanges a look with Jacki. “Did you know your mom works at Cinnbon?”
My blood instantly runs hot and then cold. “No.” My stomach knots and everything muscle in my body coils, ready to jump up from the table and run for the exit.
“She’d look just like Beth if it weren’t for that dirty-ass look she kept giving us,” Jacki says, taking a seat across from me.
Holly cautiously slides a cinnamon roll in front of me. “Seriously, she was super rude. We didn’t even do anything!”
Jacki snorts. “Maybe she recognized you. Guilty by association or something.”
I crane my neck to see if I can catch a glimpse of her, but the food court is too crowded. She’s probably watching me right now. My skin prickles at the thought and sweat beads up on my forehead and neck.
“We should have told her manager,” Jacki continues. “She’s gonna run customers off acting like that.” She twists around in her seat and then gets up, holding her cinnamon roll. “I’m gonna do it,” she says. “I’m gonna complain.”
Holly sighs. “Leave it alone, Jacki.” She pinches off a piece of her roll and pops it into her mouth.
Jacki shakes her head. “No. She don’t even know me. She had no reason to treat me like that.” She takes off, disappearing into the crowd.
Holly turns to me and rolls her eyes. “So dramatic,” she says around her bite of cinnamon roll.
I eye my own cinnamon roll. Mother might have made this cinnamon roll. Did she know it was for me? My heart pounds so hard, my eyes throb, blurring my vision. I can’t eat this. Not with her so near.
“So what’d you think of the movie?” Holly asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
My head jerks up and I scan the crowd, expecting Mother to barge through at any moment to deliver some kind of punishment. “It was…different.”
Outside Page 14