It’s the Wednesday night Hell House meeting, and the first time we’ve all been together in church since people found out about Tessa. My stomach has been doing this flipping thing all day.
People are coming right up to Starla Joy to say they’re praying for her and her family. I sit next to her and hear her thank them all graciously, even some of the same people we know were gossiping about Tessa in school. I love Starla Joy for being so above them.
“I have a few announcements to make,” says Pastor Frist as people quiet down. “Everyone knows that Tessa Minter has had to drop out of Hell House due to personal matters.”
A little chatter rises up from the pews, but it quiets pretty quickly as he continues. “According to the Hell House casting, Lacey Byer will take over the role of Abortion Girl, with Laura Bergen acting as understudy.”
I try to keep my face calm, but I can feel my mouth stretching out into a wide grin. It’s official! It’s mine. I got it! I knew this was probably going to happen, but hearing that it’s really real makes my heart beat faster.
“Lacey, you’ll have your first rehearsal tonight,” says Pastor Frist. “Your father says you learned the lines for the audition, so I hope you’re ready to go.”
“I am!” I say, louder than I normally would in church. I even pop up from my seat a little bit in excitement, and I can tell everyone is surprised.
“Congratulations, Lacey,” says Pastor Frist. “We know you’ll do us proud.”
Someone in the back of the church starts clapping and I look up to see Ty leaning on the back doors of the sanctuary and leading the applause. Everyone else joins in, and soon the sound is thunderous. I can feel my face getting red.
Starla Joy squeezes my hand. “You’ll be awesome, Lacey,” she says.
I look for a flicker of sadness, a flash of doubt, but I just see encouragement in her eyes. “Really?” I ask.
“Truly,” she says. “It’s meant to be you.”
I grin back at her, so grateful to have such a selfless friend, and even more determined to stand by her side. “Thanks,” I say.
Then I see Laura Bergen, who looks almost as happy as I am just to be the understudy. I have to have one, since a couple of years ago Molly Bradford lost her voice in the middle of Hell House weekend. It can happen because of the intense screaming and the emotional strain of the role.
The applause dies down and I watch Ty slip out the back door. He isn’t supposed to be in here since he’s not in the show … I wonder if he came for me. I know he’s proud of me. I could see it in his face.
I haven’t been able to spend any alone time with Ty in a few days. Part of that is because I’ve been laying low with my parents. They seem to understand that our relationship is in a precarious place. I’m not willing to talk with them about things I’m thinking, like I normally would. It feels strange, because my father’s entire job is to help kids through tough times. But he works with little kids, and this year my life seems more complicated than it used to.
And then there’s the fact that I don’t wholly trust Mom and Dad anymore.
I look over at Geoff Parsons, whose Hell House script is rolled up in the back pocket of his faded jeans. I know he’s excited to have such a big part in the show, but I still can’t help but feel he doesn’t deserve to be in it at all. It seems the stuff between him and Dean has blown over for everyone but me. I haven’t forgotten.
Tonight is the first casual Hell House rehearsal, and after a few minutes of vocal warm-up and prayer, we break up into our separate scenes. I go to the nursery, soon to be decorated like a medical clinic. Dean told me we’re getting a real hospital bed that adjusts up and down so I can be sitting in an upright position, as if I’m giving birth. “It’ll be more emotional if it looks like this could be a life-or-death scene,” he said. I’ll have fake blood all over my hospital gown as I scream in pain, both emotional and physical. He and the other prop guys have even figured out how to make a passable first-term baby out of raw hamburger meat, so I know the visuals will be amazing.
Right now, though, we don’t have any props ready yet, so I sit on top of a long table and pretend that it’s a bed. Because it’s the nursery, there are still toys all around the edges of the room. They’ll be cleared for performances, but tonight they actually add something for me. The scene starts with the doctor dropping the fetus into a bucket as I scream and cry. Then I rock back and forth in the bed and say, “I killed my baby! I made a mistake … I want my baby back!”
It’s a lot to jump into all at once, but I do my best. I think about Tessa, and the choice she might have made if she hadn’t grown up in this church community. How regretful she would have been for her whole life if she weren’t at Saint Angeles, ready to let her baby live and be raised by a family who’s probably been praying for a child.
In the scene, the doctor—played by Randy Miller, who was always really good at that game Operation—just shakes his head at my screaming. But the nurse—that’s Laura Bergen—she tells me firmly and somberly that it’s too late. Laura Bergen is excellent at being firm and somber.
When my dramatic shrieking winds down, Skyler Gordon comes in as an angel, and she’s holding the hand of one of the three younger kids who’s been cast to rotate through the scene as the night goes on. Even though little kids can’t be in the audience for Hell House, they’re allowed to be in the show. Pastor Frist says they’re often the most effective actors because of their innocence. Tonight, five-year-old Heather Jenkins is rehearsing with us. She’s got brown curly hair and a giant smile that shows a big gap tooth. Pastor Frist tells her she’s smiling too much when she delivers her line in my direction: “Mommy, why did you kill me?”
I’m supposed to start wailing at that, of course, but I can’t help but smile back when she beams at me as she says it. After a few more times, she learns to do the scene more seriously, and on our last run through, my mind flashes to Tessa and her lovely, freckled face. What will her child look like at five? At least we’ll have a chance to know. At least she’s not committing another sin by going to a clinic like this.
Skyler Gordon ends the scene by telling me that it’s too late for my baby to live but it’s not too late for me to repent. As I lay dying, she reminds me, and the audience, that God is always forgiving if you’re truly remorseful about your sins. The abortion act always gets the girls in the room weeping—and Skyler is really good at delivering her lines: “Though you have committed the sin of fornication before marriage vows, though you have chosen darkness over light, though you have killed your own child, there is hope. For these actions are in the past, and today, right now, you can choose to take Jesus’s hand and start walking into a brighter future. Repent! And his arms will open unto you and welcome you into the Kingdom of Heaven.”
She comes over to embrace me, and I scream out, “Lord, forgive me!” just before I die. That’s supposed to show that you can give yourself up to God even in the last moments of your life—there is always room for faith and hope. When we’re done, I shake Skyler off with a shiver and jump down from the table. We’ve been working on the scene for an hour and I’m tired, not to mention hungry.
I grab my bag and see Pastor Frist clasping Randy’s hand. He slaps him on the back and says, “Excellent job, doctor!” Their synchronized laughter rings out loudly as they leave the room. I say good-bye to Laura, Skyler, and Heather and go out into the hallway to sit on the bench in front of the conference room where my dad’s been rehearsing the Hell scene. I can hear the screaming through the door—it sounds like they’re really getting into it. Dad can be truly scary when he plays Satan. He whispers in your ear things like “I know what you did,” and “I’ve seen your every sin.” Now that I think about it, it’s probably even more creepy since he’s my father.
I hear footsteps coming down the hall, and I look up to see Ty walking toward me. He’s carrying a Subway bag with a sandwich and chips stuffed inside.
“Hey,” he says, kicking my toe ge
ntly as he sits down on the bench beside me.
“What are you doing here tonight?” I ask with a smile. “I thought Hell House wasn’t your thing.”
“Well, Aunt Vivian’s working late,” he says. “I came by earlier and she asked me to go pick up some dinner for her.”
He points to the bag.
“Sure,” I say. “You weren’t curious at all about the rehearsal.”
“Maybe a little,” he says, smiling. “I’m proud of you, Lacey.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking at him looking at me.
Just a minute ago I felt utterly exhausted, but now I feel energy racing through my body. It’s like I can almost hear my heart fluttering, and I have to concentrate on keeping my breath even. This is what it’s like when I’m next to Ty.
“I’ve been coming here a lot this week, actually,” he says.
“Oh?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah,” he says, taking in my expression. “Don’t look so shocked.”
“Sorry,” I say. “But I mean … what are you—”
“Just thinking,” he says. “It’s a really quiet place to do that sometimes, and the light in the sanctuary is pretty great around sunset.”
“I know,” I say, pleased with Ty. “It’s nice that you feel comfortable here.”
“Well, to be honest, when I came on Monday after school, I had another motive,” he says. “But I found it so peaceful that I’ve found reasons to come back yesterday and today, too.”
“Oh,” I say. “What was the other motive?”
“I thought you might be here,” says Ty. “I mean, if you had some things you wanted to contemplate or whatever.”
“I’ve been busy,” I say, flushed at the thought of him seeking me out. And then I think about how I don’t really come to church to ruminate in the way Ty’s talking about.
“You know,” I say, considering this for the first time, “when I want to really think about something, I go to the woods. The breeze calms me down. And I like the way the light is softer there, muted by the leaves.”
Ty raises one eyebrow. “Less of a church girl than I thought,” he says. “That sounds downright alternative, communing with nature.”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “I want to be close to God. I just think better outside, under His sky.”
And when I say it that way, it sounds right, and true.
Ty smiles and nods. “That makes sense,” he says. Then he adds, “Starla Joy’s been here too.”
“You mean in the sanctuary?” I ask. “After school?” Every day this week, she’s told me how she has to rush home to help her mom.
“Yeah,” says Ty. “She just sits in there. She likes the back row, but I prefer the light from the front. We haven’t talked or anything, really, but it’s nice to have someone to share the silence with.”
And I wonder why Ty has so much to figure out when it’s Tessa who got pregnant. It’s not like he even knows the Minters very well, but he’s acting like it’s his own family who’s in trouble. I want to believe he’s sensitive, but I wonder if there’s something more. Does he like Starla Joy? Doesn’t he want to share the silence with me?
I shake my head to clear those kinds of thoughts. We’re in church, talking about Tessa. I shouldn’t let envy creep into my mind.
The conference room door opens suddenly, and a group of guys walk out, laughing loudly. Jeremy Jackson looks over at our bench, and I can feel Ty’s body stiffen. I look Jeremy right in the eye, and his smile fades.
“Hi, Lacey,” he says. “Ty.”
“Hey, Jeremy,” I say. Ty doesn’t move.
Jeremy’s eyes stay locked with mine for a beat, then he turns around and joins his friends in their raucous conversation as they disappear down the hall.
Ty and I look at each other then, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m thinking that it doesn’t seem fair for Jeremy to be hanging out, rehearsing for his role as a Demon Tour Guide, while Tessa is hidden away.
I say that to Ty, and he replies, “He’s hurting too, he just doesn’t know how to show it.”
“How can you tell?” I ask, marveling at how generous Ty seems.
“I can’t really,” he says modestly. “I’m just guessing that that guy has a lot on his mind. He’s not a robot, so he must be feeling something we can’t see, right?”
“Hmm, maybe,” I say.
Ty opens his mouth to say more, but I hear another sound.
“Lacey.”
Dad’s voice booms behind me, and the edge in his tone makes me stand up quickly.
“Hi, Dad,” I say.
“Hi, Mr. Byer,” says Ty, standing up beside me.
“I was just waiting for you—” I start, and at the same time Ty says, “I was just bringing Aunt Vivian some—”
We look at each other and laugh, but Dad doesn’t crack a smile.
“Let’s go,” Dad says to me. “Your mother’s got dinner ready.”
He brushes past us without another word, and I follow him, glancing back once to shrug at a sullen Ty. I don’t know what my dad has against him, other than the fact that he’s a boy sitting next to me on a bench.
On the car ride home, I want to ask my dad what’s going on, but the air feels thick around us. So I stay silent, wondering why, even though he’s just a foot away from me, it feels like the two of us are really far apart.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day after school, I go to the woods again. The weather’s nice, and it’s easy to get my homework done out here. Plus, I don’t have to feel the strain at home, or hear Mom’s sighs when I walk by her and up to my room without a word. Today, I tried to get Starla Joy to come too. Things at school have been intense for her, I know. Every day people are whispering, wondering about Tessa. I haven’t asked her much—I’m waiting for her to come to me when she wants to share something—but I was hoping she’d hang out today, get some fresh air.
“Being cooped up in church asking forgiveness for the sins of your sister isn’t productive,” I told her. And when she wondered how I knew that’s where she’d been, she seemed surprised to hear that Ty told me. She claimed she hadn’t even noticed him in church.
Even though it’s mean, that made me feel better—less envious that they’d been bonding without me. Truthfully, she has been a walking zombie this week. How can I blame her?
She wouldn’t come to the woods though—I couldn’t convince her. And so I settle onto the log with Dean, who’s already there and reading A Separate Peace by the time I arrive.
“I always thought ‘separate’ was spelled s-e-p-e-r-a-t-e,” Dean says.
“You’ve always been wrong,” I say, pulling out a notebook and my graphing calculator.
“Whatever,” he says. “I like this book though.”
“What’s it about?” I ask.
“Guys,” he says. “Friendships.”
I wait for him to explain more.
He smiles at me. “It might be about love too,” he says. “I’m not sure.”
I hear leaves crunching behind us, and Dean and I both turn toward the sound. Ty is high stepping his way over some low branches.
“What’s up?” Dean asks.
Ty smiles and settles onto the stump across from our log.
“I heard the light was good out here,” he says.
Dean looks over at me, and I start to blush. I’m glad Ty’s here.
“Hey, man,” Ty says, knocking Dean’s knee and getting his attention. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”
“Don’t be,” says Dean. “It was great.”
My ears perk up. “What happened today?” I ask.
“Yeah, but you’ll get it double tomorrow,” says Ty.
“Worth it,” Dean says, and they share a smile.
“Hello!” I shout, waving my hand in the air. “What happened today?”
“Nothing,” says Dean, returning to his book. Then, under his breath, he says, “Same old stupidity.”
I lo
ok over at Ty, but he’s still focused on Dean.
I lean toward Dean and put my hand in front of his book so he can’t read it. “Tell me,” I say.
“It happens every day,” he says. “Just jerks in gym.”
“What do they do?” I ask, feeling indignant.
“They call me stuff,” Dean says. “It’s dumb.”
“What do they call you?” I ask, wondering why Dean doesn’t talk about this with me, why boys keep these secrets.
“Fat, lazy, flannel, painted-nail geek,” Dean says, letting all the insults out in a rush.
“You censored that for Lacey,” says Ty.
“I know,” says Dean. “They don’t really say ‘geek.’ ” Then he smiles. “But today, Ty said something back.”
I put my anger on hold as I look over at Ty questioningly.
“I just reminded everyone of kindergarten, when Geoff Parsons begged and pleaded to play Mary in the children’s Nativity play,” he says, affecting an innocent voice. “Your dad let him be a sheep, but he still kept trying to hold the baby Jesus doll.”
“I remember.” I snicker.
“He carried that funky Cabbage Patch Kid around for a week!” Dean shouts through his laughter.
“It was Laura Bergen’s,” I add gleefully. “Her mom had to ask Geoff’s mom to make him give it back.”
“I told him he has amazing maternal instincts,” Ty says, slapping his knee and chuckling.
Dean tries to stifle a guffaw unsuccessfully. I haven’t heard his loud, free laugh very much in the last year, but there it is. And it’s so excellent that I keep giggling too. He leans forward and the log tilts with his weight shift, so both of us end up in the dirt. That just makes Ty laugh harder, so Dean reaches up and yanks him off his stump and onto the ground with us. We collapse into snorts again.
“What’s so funny?”
Starla Joy, in a peacock-blue shirt, her favorite jean skirt, and bright red lipstick, is standing above us. Despite her attempts at dressing cheerfully, she looks stern and sad. But when we tell her the Geoff Parsons story, she smiles a little. And then she claps her hand over her mouth. Dean and I reach for her arms, pulling her down to the ground so fast that her silver bracelets jangle loudly. She falls with us into the leaves, and it’s like the way we used to lie in a soft autumn pile and pretend it was a fancy feather bed.
Small Town Sinners Page 10