“Hey, Zee! Are you digging Carver so far?” Alyssa asked.
Zenovia didn’t even try to hide the sarcastic smirk that graced her lips. “I’m trying, but it’s so different from West Marshall.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Alyssa asked as she laughed. “Have you seen Tristan this morning?”
Zenovia shook her head. “Nope. Honestly, I’m just trying to figure out how to get from point A to point B in this maze of a school. I don’t have time to check for a boy who isn’t checking for me.”
“Wow. Where’d all that come from?”
Zenovia shrugged. She couldn’t truthfully answer the question because she didn’t know where the sour sentiment had come from. Deep down she knew that she wasn’t completely through with Tristan—he’d made too much of an impression on her for that. But her pride wasn’t going to let her continue to declare her strong like for him when he clearly wasn’t interested.
Zenovia finally replied. “Maybe I’m just tripping because Emil called me.”
“Skater dude Emil?”
“Yes, Emil from the skating rink,” Zenovia corrected, Somehow skater dude sounded like a diss.
“What did you guys talk about?”
“Nothing really. We just got to know each other. He’s really cool.”
Zenovia waited for Alyssa’s judgment, but none came. She seemed to ponder the information for a moment and looked as if she had a comment, but she kept it to herself.
“What is your first-period class?” Alyssa asked ending the uncomfortable silence.
“Looks like I have French III first period.”
“With Mr. Arnold?”
Zenovia glanced down at her schedule. “Yes, I have Mr. Arnold.”
“Tristan and Kyle are in that class,” Alyssa said. She punctuated her thought with a sly grin that Zenovia wanted to wipe right off her face.
“Why in the world would either of them be in a French class? I thought they were taking vocational classes.”
“They are, but learning a foreign language will help them when they get ready to serve as Brethren missionaries.”
“Great. That’s just great.”
Alyssa giggled and replied, “Your classroom is on the second floor at the end of the hallway.”
Zenovia threw her backpack over her shoulder and trudged up the huge center staircase. At her old school she’d never felt self-conscious about her lack of designer clothing, but here Zenovia was bombarded with an endless stream of hundred-dollar jeans and name-brand tennis shoes. She looked at the ground and tried not to bump into anyone on her way to class.
Zenovia entered the classroom as the final bell sounded. Involuntarily she took a quick glance around the room and spotted Tristan. She handed a copy of her schedule to Mr. Arnold and slid into the first available desk.
“Psst!” Tristan signaled from the back of the room. Zenovia pretended not to hear him.
“Zee! Sit back here with us!” Tristan whispered even louder.
Zenovia narrowed her eyes and glared over at Tristan. She was working on her slow fade into high-school obscurity, and he had picked that one moment in time to become relentless.
Unwilling to move from her seat or give Tristan any satisfaction at all, Zenovia continued to ignore him. While she was glaring she noticed that he was wearing a blue button-down Tommy Hilfiger shirt with a hunter-green sweater vest. He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes at her old school with that outfit on. He would’ve been an instant mark.
Zenovia only half-listened to Mr. Arnold’s lesson. As advanced as Carver was supposed to be, they were far behind the Honors French class at West Marshall. Zenovia had been working on translations at her old school, but Carver was still conjugating verbs.
When the bell rang, Zenovia made a mad dash for the door. She had Honors English for her second-period class, and she was relieved. Tristan wasn’t taking this class so she wouldn’t have to look at him for another fifty-five minutes.
She got halfway down the hallway and thought she was home free. But she was wrong. Tristan and Kyle ran up on either side of her and tried to match her pace for pace.
Tristan said, “Kyle, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Zee was avoiding us.”
“I don’t think she’s avoiding us,” Kyle replied. “I think she’s avoiding you.”
Zenovia rolled her eyes, “I’m not avoiding either of you.”
“Then why did you ignore me when I was trying to get your attention in class?” Tristan asked.
Zenovia blew her swoop bang out of her eye and sighed. How could she explain any of this to him without revealing her feelings? She opened her mouth to respond, but had no idea what words were about to form.
“Listen, Tristan, this is how I am at school. I go to class, I don’t talk to anyone, and then I go home. That’s what I do. It’s not about you or Kyle.”
Tristan’s beaming smile turned into a wounded frown. “You won’t even talk to us? We’re your friends.”
Zenovia looked at Kyle and then Tristan. How could he be so sincere, but yet be completely oblivious to how she felt about him? How could he not know that she wanted more than friendship? Zenovia thought that her feelings were written all over her face.
“I have to get to class,” she finally said as the warning bell sounded.
“What period do you have lunch?” Tristan asked, not giving up.
“Fourth.”
“See you in the cafeteria. We sit by the Coke machine in the corner.”
Zenovia let out an irritated sigh and jogged the rest of the way to her class. Fortunately, none of the Brethren were in this class, so she was free to disappear at her own leisure.
She spent the entire fifty-five minutes half-listening to her teacher and scribbling doodles in her notebook. She wrote Emil’s name in big curlicue letters and smiled wistfully at the thought of him.
Zenovia had grossly misrepresented her and Emil’s telephone call, and with good reason. She was not the type of girl to tell everyone her business. Growing up with Audrey had made her an expert at keeping secrets.
The conversation that she’d had with Emil was so real and simple. And so incredible. They related to each other on so many levels. Both of them had grown up with single parents, although his father lived close by and was around from time to time. The best part about talking to Emil was that he was completely unashamed of liking Zenovia.
Unlike some other people.
At lunchtime Zenovia stood at the entrance of the cafeteria and considered not going in. She didn’t get the opportunity to ponder for too long, because Mia and Alyssa walked in behind her.
“Come on, girl!” Alyssa exclaimed. “Why are you standing out here?”
“Hi, Zee!” Mia said.
Zenovia replied, “Hello, Mia.”
Mia gave Zenovia a tight smile and rushed over to where Kyle and Tristan were sitting. Alyssa hung back with Zenovia who was still taking her time, even though she was pretty hungry.
“Why did you say hi to Mia like that?” Alyssa asked.
Zenovia feigned innocence. “Like what?”
“You were really cold, Zee, like you two have beef or something.”
Zenovia glanced at Mia who had her head tossed back in laughter. Surely Tristan couldn’t be saying something that was that funny.
“No, Alyssa, you’re wrong. What could we possibly be beefing about?” Zenovia punctuated her question with a sarcastic grin.
Zenovia and Alyssa joined their Brethren friends at the lunch table. Kyle smiled up at them, but Tristan was engrossed in conversation with Mia.
“And can you believe that she got caught fornicating with Hakeem right in her parents’ bedroom?” Mia asked.
Tristan replied, “Wow. These young people obviously don’t understand that we are living in the end times.”
“I know!” Mia exclaimed. “If the end doesn’t come before I’m grown, I can wait until I get married. Fornication is not worth my life.”
; Zenovia shook her head and rolled her eyes. Were they really saying ‘’fornicating’’ instead of “having sex”? Who talked like that?
“Looks like somebody has a crush,” Kyle said as he flipped through the pages of Zenovia’s notebook.
“Give me that!” Zenovia replied as she snatched her notebook away from him.
Tristan’s eyes lit up. “Who does Zee have a crush on?”
Zenovia felt her nostrils flare angrily. Did Tristan think she was doodling about his unresponsive self?
She replied, “None of your business.”
“Emil!” Alyssa blurted.
Tristan’s face contorted into a fatherly frown. “The hood character from the skating rink, right? He’s not baptized.”
“So what?” Zenovia asked. Her attitude was apparent in her tone and in her stance.
“Baptized members of the Brethren,” Tristan explained, “are held to a higher standard. If the end comes before Emil goes down in the water, it’s too late for him.”
Alyssa interjected, “That’s right, Zenovia, but you’re safe. You’ve been baptized.”
“She’s safe as long as she stays sin-free,” Kyle said.
Zenovia’s mind reeled. No one had told her before she got baptized as a Brethren that she would only be able to talk to boys who were baptized. No one had told her about the higher standard. And who could ever remain sin-free? Had the Brethren not heard the scripture at Romans 3:23? She’d learned it in Sunday school.
Zenovia asked, “Don’t you know your Bible, Kyle? It says in Romans that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
“Oh, that’s your life before you become a Brethren,” Tristan says. “But now you’ve been purified. Don’t mess it up dealing with a guy like Emil.”
The entire conversation weighed heavily on Zenovia’s mind for the rest of the day. She was still pondering it all when she met Emil after school for burgers. They’d chosen the mall in her old hood, because she didn’t want to run into any of her Brethren friends.
While they stood in line at Burger King, Zenovia stole glances at Emil. She wanted to take him all in without being obvious. His outfit was all hood, not prep school like Tristan. He had on layered T-shirts, jeans with a bit of a sag, and Timberland boots. Of course, he was rocking his gold herringbone chain.
When their food was ready they sat down at one of the mall tables. They were right out in the open—in full view of anyone that might walk by, including members of the Brethren. Emil didn’t look over his shoulder, like Tristan did. He didn’t care who saw them together. Thinking about her closet friendship with Tristan made Zenovia’s mood melancholy.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Emil asked as he took a huge bite out of his hamburger.
“What’s wrong with you, ordering a burger with no pickles or onions?”
Emil rewarded Zenovia’s joke with his slow and sexy smile. “You listened to my order? Well, you can remember that because soon you’ll be getting my food.”
Zenovia laughed out loud. “Boy, please! Do I look like your butler?”
“No, but that’s what a good woman does. She takes care of her man.”
“You Brethren guys are male chauvinists!”
Emil frowned and turned serious. “I am not a Brethren guy.”
“You’re not?”
“Nah, but I didn’t know that mattered to you. I should’ve guessed, right? You hang with some of the biggest Brethren drones in Cleveland.”
“Why do you call them drones?”
Emil’s smile returned. “A drone is a worker bee. Their entire purpose in life is to get food for the queen and build the nest. They work themselves to death, never stopping once to enjoy the flowers they touch everyday.”
Zenovia gazed at Emil for a moment, then she burst into laughter. “Wow, Emil! You’re so deep!”
“Shut up! You know what I mean,” replied Emil as he threw a French fry at Zenovia.
“I do understand. Is that why you’re not baptized? You don’t want to become a drone too?”
Emil explained, “Listen, I’ll do it when it’s right for me. I love God, but I’m not about to get baptized because the masses are doing it, or because my mother is hounding me.”
“Is your mother hounding you?” Zenovia asked.
“Man, is she ever. She wants her little friends at the Devotion Center to pay her some attention.”
“That must tire her out, you know, trying to impress people,” Zenovia said.
Emil shook his head. “She never gets tired of it.”
The mood had gotten heavy, so Zenovia tried to lighten it up. “Are we going to get these roller skates or what?”
Emil smiled and rubbed his palms together. “Yes, absolutely. Let’s go upstairs to Nickle’s Sporting Goods.”
They started upstairs to the sporting goods store, and Emil casually took Zenovia’s hand. The touch was sweet, spontaneous, and out of the blue. It seemed like nothing, but it was enough to hurtle Zenovia into a vision.
She lay naked across a small bed, with a sheet draped over her body. Emil strokes her face as she slowly wakes.
“Is it morning?” she asks.
Emil smiles and sings part of a Shirley Murdock song, “It’s morning.”
She scrunches her nose into a frown. “That song is about adultery. We’re not adulterers.”
“Nah, but we’re fornicators, though. Your Brethren friends won’t be happy about this.”
“I don’t care what they think,” Zenovia says.
“Yes, you do, but it’s okay. We won’t tell them.”
Emil takes Zenovia’s face in his hands and covers her lips with his own. It’s a deep lover’s kiss, and it sends shock waves through her entire body.
It was a short vision, but it was enough to rattle Zenovia. She didn’t feel herself squeezing Emil’s hand as they walked into the sporting goods store.
“Are you all right, baby girl?” Emil asked as he shook his hand free.
Zenovia was annoyed that she couldn’t pull herself together quickly. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? ’Cause you’re kind of blushing. If you can’t handle holding hands with me, I’ll understand.”
“You’re so funny, Emil.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “And I’m magically delicious.”
“Ewww!”
Zenovia laughed nervously at his joke, knowing that at some point in time she might actually get a taste of Emil. Oddly enough, the nervousness Zenovia felt didn’t come from the act of losing her virginity. It came from worrying what would happen if the Brethren found out.
Chapter Twelve
Do you believe in fate?” Zenovia asked Tristan.
They were sitting at the game table in the Batistes’ basement, waiting for Mia and Alyssa to decide on which board game they were going to play. The choices were among Monopoly, Scrabble, and Taboo. Zenovia was partial to Scrabble. She was a beast in Scrabble. All that studying for the SAT test gave her a vocabulary advantage over most other teenagers.
Zenovia was still thinking of the vision she’d had of herself and Emil. She knew that having sex with Emil would be wrong, and she had no inclination to sin against God. But if the visions were to be trusted, something was going to change. Something was going to drive her to a place she didn’t want to be. She wondered if it was truly inevitable.
“I don’t believe in fate,” Tristan replied after pondering the question. “I do believe in destiny, though.”
Zenovia nodded slowly and said, “Don’t you think they’re pretty much the same thing?”
“Nah. You don’t have any control over fate, right?”
“Right.”
“But destiny… I think destiny is like God’s divine plan for your life. But you can choose to accept it or not.”
Zenovia let Tristan’s explanation sink in. She couldn’t think of how she could be destined to sleep with Emil out of wedlock. Certainly that would not be God’s plan for her life.
Before she got a chance to counter Tristan’s idea, Mia and Alyssa came back downstairs with their game choice. Zenovia rolled her eyes when she saw the turquoise-colored box in Mia’s hand. They were playing Taboo.
“Tristan, Kyle called when we were upstairs,” Alyssa said.
When she didn’t relay any message, Tristan asked, “And?”
“Oh. He’s not coming over tonight.”
Mia gave a fake frown. “Aw… that’s too bad. Did he say why?”
Kyle sits in the middle of a bedroom floor, gripping a Bible and a letter in his hands. Tears rush down his cheeks and drip onto the leather-bound book. His arms are also dripping. With blood.
“Tristan, why don’t we go check on Kyle?” Zenovia asked.
The three other teenagers looked at her strangely. Perhaps it was the desperation in her tone, or maybe it had been apparent when she’d zoned out. The vision seemed to only last a few seconds, but Zenovia never knew how she appeared to others when she was having one.
Mia whined, “Kyle’s cool. He’s just being antisocial! I want to play Taboo.”
Something about Zenovia’s demeanor must’ve struck a chord with Tristan, because he said, “Mia, you and Alyssa can stay here and play Taboo. We’ll just run over and see what’s up with Kyle.”
“I want to go!” Alyssa said.
Tristan shook his head. “No. Just stay here with Mia. We’ll be right back.”
Zenovia and Tristan dashed up the basement stairs and into the kitchen. Justin was there and making a turkey sandwich. He looked up from his snack with questions in his eyes.
“Where are y’all going?” he asked as Tristan grabbed his keys from a hook on the wall.
“To Kyle’s house,” Zenovia replied.
“What’s going on over there?” Justin inquired.
Tristan responded, “Nothing. Well, Zenovia just had a feeling that we should go over there.”
Justin laughed. “A feeling? Like some kind of sixth sense or something? Wow.”
Zenovia narrowed her eyes and frowned at Justin. “Don’t be a jerk, Justin. It doesn’t suit you at all.”
In the Midst of It All Page 8