Time Next

by Carolyn Cohagan

  Even as I comfort myself with these thoughts, I’m filled with guilt over Juda. He’s the one I care for. He’s the one I’m trying to find. I can’t just leave people behind like Horton did.

  I have to come up with a new strategy. If no one will tell me where the Forgiveness Home is, then I have to get there another way . . .

  With a sinking stomach, I realize that I’m going to have to talk to Tabby again.

  As the night grows long, I search the pavilion. The dance floor is packed. Ginnie Dilford tries to teach Dekker to dance, and now he’s the one that looks like an otter. Silas dances with his mother and doesn’t seem to have noticed my absence.

  I finally catch sight of Tabby as Gilad approaches her for a dance. She gives him a tight smile. They sway around the dance floor, his broad face radiating pride. Tabby looks unhappy, even more than usual, because of the lady bug I assume? The whole thing sounds painful and unpleasant. Why on earth do girls look forward to this night?

  Just as she did earlier in the evening, Tabby scans the room. After a few spins, she seems to locate what she’s looking for. She smiles briefly, and each time she and Gilad turn, her eyes land in the same spot.

  The only person in her eyeline is the gawky boy from the food court––the one who obviously had a crush on her. He’s gazing at her as if she were a pancake he wants to dip in syrup. I look back at Tabby. She holds her chin high as she dances with Gilad, but each time she turns, she looks at the skinny boy with the same longing.

  The straws. They finally make sense. Tabby wasn’t keeping them because of the compressions or some strange diet. She kept them because of this boy. Perhaps I finally understand why Tabby used the Smoker suit to sneak out of her house.

  When the song is over, Gilad looks ready to dance again, but Tabby shakes her head and walks toward the buffet table. Gilad looks hurt, but she doesn’t notice. Although she moves away from the boy, she’s still aware of his presence. I can tell by the way her shoulders pull back as she caresses her elaborate hairdo.

  At the buffet table, she surveys the food. She occasionally glances in his direction and tries not to smile. His eyes remain locked on her. This is a game they’ve played before.

  I’m hesitant to interrupt her flirtation, but I need to take advantage of her moment alone. I approach her with caution.

  “Tabby,” I say in a soft voice.

  “Oh, great. It’s you,” she says.

  I pretend to be interested in the food, taking a plate and heaping on sliced fruit.

  “Your pledge was nice,” I say.

  She doesn’t answer.

  “May I see your necklace?” She inspects a wilted salad, so I lean in and look at the heart on a chain. “It’s lovely.”

  “Why are you always in my face?” she says.

  I need to ask my question or walk away. Taking a deep breath, I say, “Earlier, you said if I snuck out again your parents would send me to the Forgiveness Home. Is that true?”

  She crunches on celery without looking at me. “It was a joke.”

  “They wouldn’t send me?”

  “What’s your deal?” she says, looking me dead in the eyes. “That place is major feeble. Any good will you’ve built up will be gone––zappo––like that.” She snaps her fingers. “Why would you do that?”

  “You know,” I say, looking at the boy.

  She looks at him and then back at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. She looks around to see who might be listening.

  “Don’t get upset. He seems nice. And I understand. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for my . . . boyfriend either.” Boyfriend? Is that what Juda is? I’ve never used the word before. “He’s in the Forgiveness Home, and I need to make sure he’s all right. That’s why I keep ‘being in your face.’”

  That’s it. The truth. That’s all I have. If Tabby won’t help me now, I’m out of options.

  Tabby’s mouth twists in many directions, as if she’s deciding if she wants to insult me or confess her own predicament. “So go to the Forgiveness Home. Get yourself locked up. My life will be easier with you gone.”

  “How do I do it?” I plead.

  She looks back over at the boy, who’s now looking at her quizzically.

  “I’ll leave you alone if you help me with this one thing,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes, showing the boy what an enormous pain I am. Can’t everyone in the room see the connection between these two?

  I smile slightly at the boy, trying to show that I’m sorry to interrupt whatever it is that’s happening between them. He smiles back, looking very sweet and kind.

  “Stop staring at him,” Tabby hisses.

  “Are you going to help me?” I ask.

  Finally realizing I’m not going to go away, she steers me to the end of the table where no one is standing. “If you sneak out, my parents might, like, decide to punish you themselves again.”

  “How can I make sure I go to the Forgiveness Home?”

  Considering this, she says, “You need something that’s bad enough to get you in but not bad enough to keep you in. No one sane would want to be there more than a few days.”

  “A few days would be perfect!” I say.

  “You make it sound like a spa weekend,” she says, looking sorry for me.

  “Please,” I say.

  She chews her lip, concentrating. “There’s actually this idea that Silas and I have had for a while. We always thought it would be hilarious, but we never had the nerve to try it. I think tonight might be the perfect night to give it a go.” She smiles wickedly. “Before I tell you our idea, you need to understand three things. First of all, you didn’t see me looking at a boy. I don’t know any boys.”

  “Right,” I say, ready to say whatever she needs me to say.

  “Second: you can never say my name or say I had anything to do with your infraction, or they’ll put me in there right beside you. I guarantee if that happens, I will make your life a living Hell. Do you believe me?”

  I nod. I absolutely believe her.

  “Third: I can’t guarantee what the consequences will be, but you have to be ready to accept the punishment.”

  “I understand.” I can’t believe it. She’s going to help me.

  “Now, how are you with little kids?” she asks.

  “Okay, I guess,” I say, trepidation growing. I can’t believe I’m about to collaborate with Tabby. I tell myself I’m doing the right thing, while at the same time clanging warning bells are going off in my head.

  I approach a large group of children playing near the entrance of the pavilion. Many of them are twirling until they fall on the floor, while others sit shoving cake into their mouths. Corny lies giggling on the ground, a victim of too much spinning.

  My nerves quiver under my skin. I don’t really understand how Tabby’s plan will work, but it’s all I have.

  I hear Nana egging me on: Afraid of children, Chickpea? Don’t be silly.

  She’s right. This will be easy.

  I rush toward the children, bugging out my eyes in disbelief. “You won’t believe what’s happening outside! It’s, uh . . . Oh my . . . I can’t even describe it!!”

  An apple-cheeked little girl in a turquoise dress stops spinning and says, “Is it a unicorn?”

  “No, dummy. Unicorns aren’t real,” says Corny. “I bet she saw a scorpion. Is it a scorpion?”

  “No!” I say, trying not to lose my nerve. “It’s people! Floating in the sky!”

  The children gape at me.

  “Really?” a brunette girl says with a mouthful of cake.

  “Where?” says Corny, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

  “Praise God,” says the unicorn girl, pressing her palms together.

  “Can you show us?” several children cry.

  “Let’s go!” I say. I run outside the pavilion, a trail of tiny children following me.

  Night has fallen. The glow from the Prom illuminates the lawn around us bu
t makes the distant woods and sky black and impenetrable. “Over there!” I say, pointing into the distant woods.

  “I can’t see anything,” whines the unicorn girl.

  “Me either,” says Corny.

  “You can’t?” I say. “I see lots of them. Dozens! Right over there!” I point again.

  “Where?” asks the brunette girl.

  “Right there!” I pause. “Ram says that only the pure of heart can see miracles. Maybe you children just aren’t pure of heart.” I produce a loud Tabby-like sigh.

  The children let this sink in, and then unicorn girl says, “I see them!” and Corny says, “Me too! Right over there!” He points to the same area I did.

  Soon the brunette girl and a freckled boy have said that they see the floating people too.

  I smile. “This is so special. Let’s go tell the others!”

  They look nervously at one another, but then unicorn girl says, “Yes! We must tell everyone about the miracle!”

  She rushes back to the pavilion, and soon all the children follow her.

  I exhale. It’s done, and there’s no turning back.

  Entering the building, I see the children weaving in and out of the crowd, finding their parents and announcing the enormous news.

  Many adults try to brush off the children and continue their conversations, but the children won’t be ignored. Some of them shout their news. Before long, everyone at the Prom has heard: a miracle is happening outside.

  Guests hurry to the lawn. When I join them, I find a crowd staring at the sky, some people kneeling and praying. One man jumps up and down, shouting with his hands in the air. The children run in circles, chanting, “It’s here! It’s here!”

  The more excited I see people get, the more anxiety brews in my stomach. What did I do? Tabby had me set off something I know nothing about.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ram. He’s watching with a grim look on his face. He doesn’t believe the children. Not for a second. “Loving family!” He has to yell to get their attention. “Please. Please!”

  Gradually, the crowd settles down. The people kneeling on the ground continue to pray.

  “I know this is a thrilling moment. Nothing could be more exciting than the return of our Savior. But I ask you, do any of you see the signs you need to see? Do you really see them? Because I do not. I look into our beautiful sky, and I only see sky. As much as I pray for the day of our Ascension, I fear that today is not that day. I’m sorry, my dear brothers and sisters. Your reward has to wait just a little bit longer.”

  A woman kneeling to my right bursts into tears.

  “Let’s go back into the pavilion and finish our beautiful Promise Prom, shall we?” Ram says, using his arms to herd the crowd inside.

  The mood has gone from ecstatic to despondent. Most people don’t move.

  Parents start gathering their children and heading home.

  The girls who took their pledges look at their fathers with watery eyes, not understanding why their special evening has been cut short. A few fathers steer their daughters back inside, but it’s pointless. The party is over.

  Tabby strides over, surveying the heartbroken guests. “Nice job. Even better than I expected.” She grins with pride. “Here comes Jeremiah,” she says, pointing across the lawn. “It seems the children have already given you up.”

  Jeremiah stomps toward us, outrage on his face. Nauseous, I pray there’s nowhere worse than the Forgiveness Home.

  “Good luck,” she says, walking away.

  When Jeremiah reaches me, he produces an unexpected smile. He puts a hand around my wrist and says in his low murmur, “Ram would like to see you.”

  He leads me back inside the pavilion. Silas watches open-mouthed from across the floor. Did Tabby tell him what I did? I wish I could explain.

  Jeremiah takes me through the rose-covered door. We walk down a flight of stairs and arrive at a large room full of mirrors and tables. Promise girls glumly gather their fluffy dancing skirts from the floor, while one of the little angel boys skips around watching himself in a mirror.

  I’m about to ask where Ram is, when I feel a jab in my neck, and everything goes black.

  Seventeen

  When I wake up, I’m on the floor of an empty room with a round ceiling, like the one where Dr. Rachel scanned me. I’m roasting hot and incredibly thirsty.

  I sit up. “Hello?” I say, assuming someone is watching me, as Dr. Rachel had been.

  No one answers. I’m still wearing the ridiculous red gown; the flimsy chiffon sticks to my clammy legs. How long have I been here?

  Standing, I try to open the only door, but it’s locked.

  “Hello!” I say again.

  I beat on the door. Silas told me there were no cells in the Forgiveness Home, but I’m seized by panic. “Let me out!” I holler.

  A voice comes over a speaker, muffled and metallic: Relax, Miss Clark. Someone will be with you shortly.

  The voice isn’t unpleasant. It’s clipped and matter-of-fact.

  I wait another ten minutes before the door opens. An older man of around seventy enters. His salt-and-pepper hair (primarily salt) comes down in a sharp widow’s peak and then flops casually to the side. The perfect crease down his ironed black trousers lets me know that he’s a man who likes perfection. In his long elegant fingers, he holds a sealed package.

  “Hello, Mina. My name is Kalyb.” His voice is calm and friendly. “I’ve brought you some clothes. I’ll wait outside while you change, and then you can join us for session.”

  “Change . . . here?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “May I go somewhere more private?” I ask, knowing that the person who spoke to me earlier might still be observing.

  “No one will be watching you get dressed, Ms. Clark,” he says, and without altering his friendly tone, he adds, “but you also gave up your right to privacy the moment you crossed our threshold. I’ll be right outside.” He closes the door.

  Helpless, I look around the room for cameras. I see none, but the hairs on the back of my neck are bristling. I know I’m being watched. What happens if I don’t change?

  I stand holding the clothes, close to tears. The voice comes over the speaker again: You have two minutes to exit.

  I huddle in the corner of the room, facing the wall. Kalyb has brought me a pair of underwear, a bra, beige pants and a beige T-shirt. Still wearing my dress, I change into the underwear. The full chiffon skirt makes it simple to then step into the pants and pull them up without exposing any skin.

  But I can’t possibly get the T-shirt on without taking off the dress. Shaking, I swiftly yank the gown over my head. I hear the tear of stitches, but I can’t worry about the state of the dress right now.

  I try to cover my chest as I put on the bra, but it’s impossible to get it on without both hands. Since it has no hooks, I have to slide it over my head. Tight and constricting, it makes my breasts flatten like pita bread.

  I throw on the beige T-shirt and turn around, glaring around the room. I’m humiliated and furious at the idea of someone watching, even another woman. I want them to see my rage.

  When I leave the room, Kalyb smiles at me. I don’t smile back. He leads me down a series of hallways. The floors have cracked tile, and the walls are peeling. From the looks of the layers of paint, people have been painting these walls since the dawn of time.

  As Kalyb strides past closed doorway after closed doorway, my anger turns to anxiety. I remember Tabby’s words: No one sane would want to be there more than a few days. We pass a well-muscled man wearing purple, and he and Kalyb nod to one another.

  Kalyb opens a nondescript door, revealing a small room that was probably at one time white but is now more of a dirty-teeth yellow. The room is as sweltering as the last one, and sweat beads on my forehead. In the center of the space is a circle of orange chairs filled with people. They look up when we arrive.

  The only person who doesn’t look up is Juda.
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  My breath catches, and I try not to grin.

  Kalyb holds out an empty seat for me and then eases himself into the chair beside it. “Good morning, residents. We have a new arrival today. Her name is Mina Clark.”

  At this, Juda’s head jerks up. I give him the tiniest of smiles, but he doesn’t smile back. In fact, he looks horrified. As he turns his head away, a fist tightens around my heart.

  The rest of the group is made of young people around my age. A boy to my left slumps in his chair, looking half asleep, while a girl across from me fidgets, nervous for whatever is coming next. A boy wearing glasses with a brown stain on his shirt looks at me with distaste. Everyone in the circle wears the same beige color as I do, and they all look overheated.

  “Ruth, why don’t you start us off today?” says Kalyb, crossing his legs.

  A girl with tan skin and dark red hair shifts in her seat. Her face is overwhelmed by an immense frown. “I, uh, had a pretty good dream last night.”

  “Tell us about it,” says Kalyb.

  “I was home, and my parents were treating me like normal,” Ruth says.

  The others nod.

  “Anything else?” asks Kalyb.

  Ruth shrugs.

  “Young ladies do not shrug, Ruth,” Kalyb says.

  Ruth looks exhausted. “Nothing else, Kalyb.”

  “Did you consider the path that might have led your parents and God to forgive you?” Kalyb gestures a lot with his hands, like he’s talking to someone who’s hard of hearing.

  “Maybe.”

  Kalyb tilts his head. “Do you want to tell us about it?”

  She sniffs and wipes her nose. “I stopped having sinful thoughts and put myself on the righteous path.”

  “Very good!” says Kalyb. He claps, and the others join. He looks at a pretty girl with sandy brown hair and a pointy nose.

  “Connie? How about you?”

  Connie looks to her neighbor and smirks.

  “Connie?” he repeats.

  She looks at the floor.