It's All About Us

by Shelley Adina

  Not to mention knee socks or navy tights. Gack.

  “What’s to organize?” she asked me. Juicy cargo pants and a tank top were a good look for her. She has no hips, unlike some of us. “After everybody gets there, we take turns praying. Then we go out for coffee or something. There’s a Starbucks on the corner of the next block.”

  “Sounds good. I hope people show up.”

  Room 216 in the classroom wing looked as though it had been a student lounge once, but the art department had turned it into a miniature gallery. A big Chinese dragon shared wall space with a humanoid face with pins in its eyes. I turned my back on it and faced the half dozen people who were standing around.

  “Hey,” Gillian said with a smile that lit up her face. “Welcome to our first prayer circle. Thanks for coming.”

  “What are we praying for?” said a thin guy who was tall enough to try out for basketball, if Spencer played in any competitive leagues. Which it didn’t, except for, of all things, rowing and golf. Why would rich kids want to do something where they might actually be required to sweat?

  “Anything you want. God’s not fussy.”

  “I’m not praying to any icon of a male-focused hierarchy,” a girl with blue hair informed Gillian. “I’ll pray to the Goddess. The circle is her symbol.”

  Gillian waved her hands as if to dispel this idea before it got a chance to land. “The notice said this is a Christian prayer circle. Our prayers go to God only.”

  The girl looked at her as though she were completely deluded. “I’m out of here, then.”

  The tall boy followed her. That left a girl whom I belatedly realized was Carly Aragon, Gillian’s chem partner, and two boys, neither of whom I knew. Yet. Prayer tends to get you acquainted with people in a hurry.

  “Let’s start,” Gillian said. “We should join hands and—”

  The door opened. “Is this the prayer circle?” somebody asked, and giggled.

  Oh, no. I knew that giggle.

  Vanessa, Emily, and Dani stepped in, with Callum and Brett Loyola right behind them. Say what you want, but I just didn’t have a whole lot of faith that they were there to get close to God.

  Gillian didn’t even blink. “Come on in and join us.”

  Emily and Dani looked at each other like this was a huge joke, and Emily giggled again. “I’m going to pray for you,” Dani told her. “You so totally need it.”

  “What about you? You need it worse than me.”

  “It wasn’t me in the girls’ bathroom—”

  “Okay, okay, shut up,” Vanessa told them. She looked over at Gillian and me. “So. You guys are Christians?”

  “Yes,” Gillian said. She’s fearless.

  “Yes,” I said. I’m truthful. When I’m cornered.

  The two boys looked at each other, looked at Brett and Callum, and just sort of melted out of the room. Sheesh. They needed a dose of the Old Testament. You know, be strong and courageous and go out and smite the enemy and all that.

  So with Carly, who still hadn’t said a word, that left the three of us against five, but as I said before, Gillian is fearless. “Okay, we’re going to join hands, go around and tell each other our names in case we don’t know them, and then I’ll pray first.”

  “What are you going to pray for?” Dani asked. “Moo goo gai pan?”

  “If I were hungry, I might,” Gillian said evenly. “But since I’m not, I’ll pray for something important.”

  “Like getting Brett a date?” Vanessa laughed and squeezed Brett around the waist with one arm, as if they’d been best friends since babyhood. Maybe they had. I glanced at Callum for his reaction, but he was just watching her indulgently, as though anything she did was just fine with him.

  “No, but I’d pray for him if he had a real problem, like his homework was getting him down because he was illiterate or his friends were making him angry by being idiots.”

  Okay, clearly Gillian was reaching her limit.

  “Are you calling me an idiot?” Vanessa inquired in a tone so silky you just knew things were about to get rough.

  “I was speaking hypothetically,” Gillian said.

  “I don’t like being called an idiot, even hypothetically,” Vanessa told her. “You can apologize now.”

  “For what? Using a literary device?” I asked, jumping in with both loafers.

  Vanessa stared at me. She didn’t get it. Not that a little thing like an allusion would stop her. “I’m a little surprised to see you here. I didn’t think you were all that righteous.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know. Poacher.”

  I felt my skin go cold.

  “Look at her,” she said to Dani. “Is that a guilty face or what?”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Callum’s voice was either lazy or bored.

  I swear my blood stopped in my veins. If she told him I was crushing on him in front of everybody, I would just shrivel up and have to transfer to some school in the Central Valley where no one would ever know my name.

  And Vanessa knew it. Triumph, and the knowledge that she could blackmail me anytime she wanted, sparkled in her eyes. And it seemed to satisfy her. Or maybe she didn’t want Callum to clue in to the fact that there were more interesting fish in the aquarium than her. Whatever. The point is, she left that arrow alone and picked up the sling she’d arrived with.

  “So go on,” she said. “I want to see you pray.”

  “You’re not supposed to watch it; you’re supposed to do it,” Gillian said.

  “Do Christian girls do it?” Brett Loyola asked no one in particular.

  “Hey, now,” Callum said. Why was it that I could never tell what he meant? Was he warning Brett to keep it clean, or was he acknowledging a new idea? Whose side was he on?

  Then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted confirmation.

  Whatever he meant, it was too late. “Oh, good question,” Vanessa said. “If I join your prayer circle, do I have to be a virgin?”

  “I hope not.” Emily giggled. That sound was really beginning to annoy me.

  “Are all Christian girls virgins?” Dani wanted to know.

  Gillian looked at me, and Carly looked at her. We needed to do something, and fast. The absolute last thing any of us wanted was to have a discussion of our sex lives (or lack thereof) anywhere within a hundred miles of this bunch.

  “In answer to your question, no, you don’t have to be a virgin to be in the prayer circle,” Gillian said out of the last reserves of her patience. “You just have to be sincere. Now, are you guys sincere, or are you just here to be obnoxious?”

  “Oh, we’re sincere, all right,” Dani said. “We sincerely think you guys are pathetic. Dear God, make him like me,” she whined. “He’s so cu-u-u-te.”

  Gillian closed her eyes, and in her I’m-telling-a-story-in-a-noisy-dining-room voice, said, “Father, thank You for bringing us all together this evening. Thank You for Your Son, who was willing to die for us so we could come together in Your Spirit and talk with You. I pray that You would whack—uh, work on certain people so they’d approach You with respect. Bless the—”

  “Come on, Cal,” Brett said. “This is way too serious for me.”

  Callum nodded, and he and Brett loped out of the room. Dani and Emily looked as though they might go, too, but Vanessa put a hand on Dani’s arm.

  “Bless the students here at Spencer, and open their eyes to Your beauty,” Gillian went on. “We pray You’d open up the gospel to us as we study Your Word. Be with—”

  “Gospel?” Dani said. “Isn’t that like what Honey Do sings?”

  I had no clue who Honey Do was, but it didn’t sound good. Some hip-hop star, maybe?

  “No, dummy,” Emily said. I bet she was happy that, for once, she knew something that the other two didn’t. “The gospel is, like, the Bible.”

  “It’s not the Bible. It means ‘good news,’” Carly said quietly, surprising all of us. It was the first time she’d opened her mouth.
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  “And how would you know that, MexiDog?”

  Laughing as if this was the biggest joke in the world, they gave it up and flounced out into the hall, singing, “Jesus loves me, this I know, ’cuz my girlfriend’s such a ho,” at the tops of their voices.

  “Give it a rest,” Carly said.

  The off-key sound of this charming ditty moved off down the hall in the direction of the girls’ dorm.

  When finally we couldn’t hear them anymore, Gillian looked from me to Carly. “Well?” she said wearily. “Want to have a prayer triangle?”

  Carly looked uncomfortable. “I—I’m not really sure.”

  I leaned over and took Gillian’s hand, then Carly’s. Her fingers were icy cold. Gillian took Carly’s other hand to close our triangle, and I shut my eyes.

  “Father, I have only one thing to ask,” I said into the quiet. “Please help us get through junior year.”

  “Amen,” all three of us said.

  Together.

  You’d almost think it had been planned.

  To:kazg@hotmail.com

  From:lmansfield@spenceracad.edu

  Date:September 24, 2008

  Re:Re: How ya doin’?

  Hey Kaz,

  Thanks for the note. I really miss PHS. Way more than I thought. Any chance you could transfer up here? They have a great graphic arts department. Haha. Pacific Heights probably isn’t ready for graphic novels about spiritual warfare. Have you sent DEMON BATTLE out to publishers yet?

  No boyfriends, but there are a few possibles. You were right about Aidan. I promise I will listen to you next time.

  I have a great roomie named Gillian Chang. Picture Katie Leung in cargo pants with a New York accent and an attitude the size of the Statue of Liberty. And she’s a Christian! Remind me to tell you about THAT next time I’m home. Oy. My head hurts thinking about it. And a girl called Carly Aragon came to our first prayer circle. Brave girl. I think she’s a believer but I’m not sure.

  Not a lot of us around here. I feel like an alien in a cage with people poking sticks through the bars. Ooh, look at the pretty green Christian. Sigh. Any advice?

  Love, Lissa xoxo

  Chapter 7

  MAYBE I COULD become a day student, and commute from Marin.

  On Friday I skipped breakfast and got a yogurt from the machine instead, then hid out in core class (Reading the British Canon), where I knew no one. Well, after a couple of days of roll call, I knew names and some faces, but what I mean is that no one from Tuesday’s debacle was in sight.

  Being a Christian wasn’t supposed to be this hard. At PHS, you were what you were and people just got over it. Or maybe, I thought suddenly, that was just how I saw it from inside my crowd. We were what we were . . . and everyone wanted to be like us.

  Here, I was on the outside, and by default, that meant people were free to judge me. To my face and behind my back.

  I hate that.

  Okay, so probably you do, too. But the little baby inside me was still crying, Like me! Like me! and not getting what she wanted.

  The flat-panel display on the wall changed from the nine o’clock CNN news feed to a close-up of Ms. Curzon, who held a sheaf of paper. Most schools have announcements over the P.A. system. At Spencer, you have plasma and CNN.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Ms. Curzon began. (I think she’s trying to give us positive reinforcement by referring to us that way.) “It’s Friday, the twenty-sixth of September, and the first full week of classes is nearly behind us. I hope you’re all settling in, making new friends, and finding new activities to enjoy.

  “On that last subject, signups for the Christmas play are posted outside the drama department. Ms. Chepstow tells me you’ll be presenting a modern-day version of Persuasion. Practice for the intramural volleyball and soccer teams will be at the field house at two today, and tryouts for the gymnastics and golf teams at four. Day students, that includes you. Our golf coach, Mr. Reynolds, wants to thank the juniors—now seniors—who stayed with the team. He hopes we will once again make the regional tournament and bring home that trophy. You may, of course, sign up for rowing and sailing on Saturday, which do not happen, as you can imagine, here on campus, but on Friday afternoons at the Tiburon Yacht Club. Details are posted at the field house.”

  Hm. Volleyball and soccer were cool, and I was good at both. I just had to make up my mind and commit to something. I made a note in my iPhone to ping me at one forty-five so I’d remember to go find the field house, wherever that was. Jocks didn’t care what religion you were. All that mattered was whether you could blast the ball past your opponent’s ear.

  “Lastly, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to announce that our annual Benefactors’ Day will be on October eleventh. We take this opportunity every year to thank those who have been so generous to us, including your parents, guardians, businesses, and foundations. Specific activities will be detailed later, but for now, please know that your parents, guardians, or trustees will be our guests for the day, and the dinner and ball will be that evening. All proceeds will be going to a charity of the organizing committee’s choice. If you’d like to be on the committee and earn your community service credits, please see Vanessa Talbot. Thank you, and enjoy your day.”

  LMansfieldHi Daddy.

  GabeManHi baby. You doing OK?

  LMansfieldYes. Made some new friends. My roomie, Gillian Chang, and Carly Aragon. You’ll like them.

  GabeManBring them out!

  LMansfieldAre you in-country Oct 11? Benefactors’ Day dinner/dance.

  GabeManStand by, checking...

  GabeManYes. Have to go to NY 10/13 but 10/11 OK.

  LMansfieldTell Mom I’ll need a dress. First available weekend, I need to go to L.A.

  GabeManShe’ll need one, too, right? Oh the thrill.

  LMansfieldGotta go to second period. Love you.

  GabeManLove you 2X.

  I kept an eye out for Callum all morning, but unfortunately I didn’t have Math on Fridays. (I know, consider the irony of that statement.) With the prospect of meeting my dad held in reserve, I might have a chance of moving him past Tuesday’s humiliation and on to happier topics, like getting to know each other as real people.

  But, for once, my heat-seeking radar failed me, and when the last gong of the morning rang and I still hadn’t seen him, I was forced to conclude that maybe he’d decided to skip classes and take off for the day with his friends. Fridays were dedicated to Phys. Ed. and getting a head start on the weekend. In a couple of months, when it snowed in the Sierras, you’d need to leave at noon to have a hope of getting out to the ski hills before dinner. In the summer, it’s a four-hour drive. Add winter weather and half a million people on the same highway? You do the math.

  When I got back to our room after Life Science and Health to dump off my books, Gillian was just leaving for the dining room for lunch. She sat on her bed to wait while I did a fast check in the mirror and brushed my hair.

  “Are you trying out for anything?” I asked. “I was thinking about soccer. Do you play volleyball?”

  She waggled a hand, etsi ketsi. “Team sports give me hives. Gymnastics, maybe. Or how about sailing? The handbook says the school keeps a bunch of fifteen-footers at the yacht harbor.”

  I stared at her, brush still in my hand. “You read the hand-book?”

  “Didn’t you? Being the authority on the dress code and all. How else are you supposed to know about stuff?”

  “I ask you.” I grinned at her. “And I only looked at the clothes part. I don’t know about sailing. You have to take a bus to get there. Too far away.”

  Which, of course, was lame. I really wanted to find out what Callum was going to be doing, and until then, my decision was up in the air.

  “It could be fun,” she wheedled. “Come on, Lissa. Think about the wind in your hair and the tiller under your hand, smelling salt spray. . . .”

  “Think about the detangler I’ll need, not to m
ention massive sunblock. If I wanted wind and salt spray, I’d go surfing.” I hated to disappoint anyone, but if I were going to hop into forty-degree ocean water, it would be with neoprene and my longboard. “I’ll stick to soccer for now.”

  “Mud up to your knees, and bruises. I can tell you’re all about the glamour. Are you quite done? I’m starving.”

  The Spencer equivalent of dress-down Friday is Dining Services dishing up hamburgers and fries for lunch. Do you hear me complaining? I loaded mine up with lettuce and tomato and bacon strips and, for a few seconds, imagined myself back at the Burger Bar in Santa Barbara, licking ketchup off my fingers and tasting my coconut sunblock and dried saltwater.

  “What’s the matter?” Gillian wanted to know. Today she hadn’t come prepared with a story and a soundtrack, though a couple of sophomores had perched at the end of our table with their lunches and the Friday edition of the San Francisco Good Times, looking like they hoped the show was about to start.

  “Nothing,” I said around a big mouthful. Good burger. Points to Dining Services.

  Carly brought her tray over and sat next to me as Gillian said, “You looked like you were about to cry.”

  I shrugged, feeling a little stupid to be caught having a moment in a place as public as this. “My burger made me homesick for a second, that’s all.”

  She blinked at me. “Your burger.”

  “There’s this place in Santa Barbara that makes them. We used to go all the time—you know, surf in the morning, eat there, and then catch a movie or something.”

  My life, the way it used to be. I missed it so much—Kaz, my sister, my friends—that without warning, a great big lump formed in my throat. I had to swallow it down with pineapple juice.

  “Don’t you guys ever get homesick?” I asked, finally.

  “I’ll be home for Christmas,” Gillian pointed out so reasonably that I felt even sillier. “I love my family, but with three brothers, the parents, and my grandmother all in one apartment, sharing a room with just you is a relief.”

  The whole family in one apartment? I pictured Chinatown and noise and cartons of vegetables in the storefront downstairs and the smells of half a dozen hole-in-the wall restaurants in the same block. How does her family afford to send her to Spencer? I wondered, and then reminded myself it was none of my business. They’d gone to Paris, too. Maybe there was money in the food industry.