There Goes Sunday School Read online

  The first week of school has left me drained, and despite a Saturday of marijuana-fueled Netflix binging with Jackie and Tanner, I haven’t really recovered.

  I trudge down the hall and into the bathroom. Rosy is in front of the vanity, tracing the outline of her eyelid with a pencil.

  It must really suck being a girl. You have to wake up so much earlier if you want to be pretty in the eyes of society.

  “Mornin’ Rosy,” I mutter, flipping the handle of the shower. The head spurts to life with a hiss.

  “Keep your pants on,” she replies, focused on her work. “I’m almost finished.”

  Lowering the lid, I pop a squat on the toilet, watching her move with such precision as she finishes one eye and moves to the other. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “Stabbing myself in the eyeball?” She laughs. “You get used to it after a while.”

  “Really?”

  “No. It still hurts, and I would still rather throw myself down a flight of stairs.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “Because Mom always says something if I don’t.” She winces, pulling the pencil away from her face. “Just be glad you’re not a girl.”

  “I was just thinking that actually.”

  “All right.” Rosy huffs, throwing the eyeliner back into her makeup bag. “Feel free to strip. I’m out of here.”

  “Hey, Rosy?”

  She turns to me. “What?”

  I hesitate. “You look great.”

  Something flickers across her face, but it vanishes under a scowl. “Shut up.”

  She closes the door behind her, and I peel off my pajamas before hopping under the steaming stream.

  Thunder rumbles, vibrating the quiet hallway as I make my way down to the Well. A yawn tears out of me like an animal, eyes filling with moisture I lazily wipe away. I stayed up too late last night, finishing the drawing of Blondie and me. Every detail had to be perfect, so I drove myself crazy sweating each stroke of my pencil.

  Plus, I had to use my imagination to fill in the blanks about certain…details. I mean, I copped a feel down there, but I had to go off memory. It’s like when they build the dinosaurs at the museum. There’s a basic idea, but really, you just fill in the blanks.

  I clutch my messenger bag closer to my side. I can’t believe I’m carrying around this kind of wondrous smut in the house of God, but what choice do I have? It’s safer with me. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

  You understand, don’t you Big Guy? I mean, it’s a drawing of something You created, so it can’t be all that bad, right? Your creations are beautiful!

  I walk past the door at the end of the hallway, knowing Jackie and Tanner aren’t crazy enough to be outside in this weather. There are already a few students milling around the foosball table, but I spy Jackie sitting on a couch in the corner and talking to a guy with dark hair.

  Tanner must be running late this morning. I gravitate towards Jackie as another clap of thunder makes the windows shake.

  “—t’s what I’m saying, I don’t understand why people think that way,” Jackie says. “People can’t help what they feel. Oh…” She looks up at me. “Hey, Mike. You know Chris.”

  The dark-haired boy looks up as well, and I swallow a scowl.

  “What’s up, Mike?”

  “Not much, Chris.” My tone is short. What the hell is Jackie doing hanging out with this dipshit?

  “I have to run,” Chris says abruptly, rising from his seat. “We’ll talk later, Jackie?”

  “Sure.” Jackie smiles at him as he turns to hurry away.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, flopping beside her. I pull my bag off my shoulder, laying it over the armrest. The farther away Chris Myers gets, the safer I feel.

  “We were discussing something that happened in class Friday,” Jackie explains, pulling out her phone. “We both have Theology third period, and the teacher’s a total tool.”

  “Aren’t they all?” I joke. “Your mother excluded.”

  “Nah, she’s the biggest tool most of the time.” Jackie laughs. “Her latest kick is to bug the snot out of me about auditioning for the winter musical. Can you imagine?”

  “You have the voice for it.”

  I always tell her that. She has the kind of singing voice that shuts people up.

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Fuck no,” she whispers, eyeing Connie Milton as she passes. “I don’t want to have to deal with the drama freaks. They’re crazy.”

  “You love drama,” I argue.

  A flash of lightning fills the room. Jackie jolts, nearly falling out of her seat as the resounding thunder rolls.

  “Not that kind.” Her voice shrinks back to normal volume. “Besides, that would seriously cut into my free time, and I’m behind on so many shows, Mike. My DVR is just buried.”

  “At least you have your priorities in order,” I say. “Don’t you think that—”

  A wailing siren cuts me off.

  “Shit.” Jackie’s on her feet in a fraction of a second. “Shit, shit, shit.” She flinches as another flash of lightning fills the room.

  I stand to comfort her, but Arnold bursts through the doors in a tizzy. “Okay, everyone! We need to take refuge in the stairwell, away from the windows. This is not a drill.”

  Oh, great. That’s not going to help.

  “I’m going to die,” Jackie whimpers. “Oh my God, we’re going to die. Mike, I’m going to die before I’ve had a threesome!”

  “Come on.” I grab her trembling arm. Her filter shuts down whenever she freaks out. “How many times have we been through this? It’s just a tornado warning. No big deal.”

  “Tell that to the people in Twister,” Jackie says, the crack in her voice evidence that she’s on the verge of tears.

  “I bet I can find two willing participants to make your final wish come true.”

  She smacks my shoulder. “Ha-ha.”

  The rest of the students are clearing out, moving down the hallway to the stairwell. Tornados are pretty commonplace in the warm months, so nobody is freaking out. Except Jackie, that is.

  “We’re all going to die,” she mutters as she huddles under the metal stairs in the cramped space. Her fingers keep grasping the silver crucifix hanging around her neck.

  I crawl in next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She’s kind of causing a scene while the rest of our sardined peers are laughing and joking around. Except for Sandy, who’s gathered a couple of her girlfriends into a prayer circle.

  Jesus, she’s annoying.

  “We’re not going die,” I assure Jackie. “If anything, the roof gets torn off, and we all get to go home. Hey, maybe it’ll take Pastor Myers right off the pulpit. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?”

  She slaps my knee. “You’re not helping.”

  “Wanna join Sandy’s prayer circle? It’s bound to keep us safe.”

  “Oh, go fuck a duck, Mike.”

  “Deep breaths.” I suck air through my teeth, hoping she’ll follow along. “In and out.”

  The two of us probably look like we’re taking a Lamaze class. That’s bound to start rumors.

  I’m lightheaded after a few minutes, but then the siren fades, and Jackie slowly releases the death grip on my hand. Arnold begins to usher us back into the Well, and everyone returns to business as usual. Before long, Tanner shows up in another wave of students.

  “You okay, Jackie?” he asks, giving her a hug.

  “I’m fine.” She sighs, breaking away from him.

  “You should have seen it.” Tanner’s voice drips with excitement. “The sky was totally green outside. The clouds were spinning all over the place, and then this huge tree fell right beside me on the way here. It was awesome!”

  “I need to sit down.” Jackie moves back to the couch in the corner.

  We follow her, Tanner still chattering on about his near-death experience. Something crunches under my foot, and my heart skips a beat wh
en I realize it’s a pencil from my bag. It lays haphazardly, contents strewn across the floor. Someone must have knocked it off the armrest in the panic. I stoop down to start gathering.

  “Let me help you.” Tanner takes a knee.

  “No!” I say a little too loud. “No,” I repeat in a semi-calm tone. “It’s cool. I got it.” I scoop my phone charger, the spilled box of pencils, and the random assortment of papers. Running through the list in my head, I take stock. Wait a second…. No sketchbook.

  Oh fuck. It’s missing.

  I check underneath the couch. Nothing. I check each pocket of the bag. Nothing.

  This can’t be happening. It’s gone.

  Forget skipping a beat, my heart has completely stopped.

  Rationalization kicks in.

  Maybe I didn’t put it back last night?

  No, I clearly remember it being there this morning. This is a disaster. An epic travesty. If someone goes too deep, that book will literally ruin my life. And quite possibly the innocence of whoever finds it.

  And it has my name and phone number penciled on the back cover. Shit, this is bad!

  “You all right, Mike?” Tanner sits beside Jackie, his big blue eyes watching me through thick frames. “You look like they cancelled Once Upon a Time.”

  “Thank you,” mutters Jackie.

  “Y-yeah,” I stutter, standing back up. “And, for the last time, that’s not funny! I’m just missing my sketchpad is all.”

  “That’s weird.” Jackie leans forward. “Are you sure it was in there?”

  “No.”

  Yes, I am.

  “I probably left it at home.”

  I didn’t. I’m one hundred percent certain I didn’t.

  “It’s no biggie.”

  It’s a huge McFreakin’ deal. God! Why am I so stupid to carry around something that is going to incriminate me? I’m doomed. When that book surfaces, that’s it. Game over. It’s been nice knowing you, Georgia. Mike, out.

  “All right, guys.” Arnold’s voice booms through the microphone. “That was an exciting way to kick off the morning, huh? Now, let’s keep that excitement going with some scripture!”

  I sink into the back row, brain spinning out of control as Arnold makes a complete fool of himself in front of everyone. Once he finishes, we split into groups, and it’s everything I can do to walk like a zombie to the corner.

  Maybe this bean bag will open and swallow me, smothering me in its clutches. That’d be awesome. There’s no telling what expression is on my face right now, but no one seems keen on speaking to me.

  All I can picture is the stupid drawing I finished last night. I mean, let’s be honest, none of the sketches in the back of that book are family friendly. But the drawing of me and Blondie is by far the most graphic.

  Why did I have to draw that? Damn my teenage horniness!

  Fat Tom drones on, and I just keep running every possible scenario over and over in my head. What if Arnold finds my sketches? What if he goes straight to my parents with it? I can see it now.

  Horror taking over their features as they realize what it is. Hopes and dreams fading from my mother’s eyes, replaced by disdain and contempt for her son. Disappointment seeping into the lines on my father’s face when he realizes what I am. The look on my face when they kick me out of the house for—

  “Mike?”

  There’s a hand on my knee. Heather Shifflet’s, to be specific. She’s looking at me with big round eyes. I blink, realizing tears are falling.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry.” I quickly blot them. “Allergies are really acting up,” I whisper, trying to smile.

  Heather nods, her attention turning back to Fat Tom. I scold myself, wiping my face. Falling apart isn’t an option, Mike.

  With as much dignity as I can muster, I crawl my way out of my seat, moving to the double doors leading into the hallway.

  A splash of cool water, and I’ll be good as new. No need to freak out just yet. Maybe no one found the sketchpad? Maybe it fell out in the car? Maybe a wormhole opened up, and it was sucked into soul-crushing oblivion? There are too many possibilities floating around to resign myself to the gallows.

  God, please don’t let anyone find it. I’d rather it spontaneously combust than have it fall into the wrong hands. Oh! Could You make that happen? I mean, after Elijah’s alter, I figure a sketchbook would be no problem for you.

  The men’s room is deathly quiet, and my sniffling bounces off the walls. After a quick glance under the stall, I allow myself a moment to gather my wits. A steady drip falls from the sink on the left, and the rhythm is somewhat comforting. I try to match my breathing to it.

  “Get ahold of yourself, Mike,” I whisper, hoping I can talk myself down from this latest episode of hysteria. I turn the knob on the faucet.

  Really, what am I so afraid of here? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Maybe no one will find it. Or, maybe, it’ll get thrown away by the custodian. Or, maybe, Jackie or Tanner picked it up, and their playing a joke on me. What if it gets passed around the youth group like a plague? Everyone will know I like dick, my life will be over, and I’ll have to—

  The door of the bathroom opens, and I plunge my face into the stream of water. It’s freezing, but at least it won’t look like I’ve been crying. I flush my eyes a few times, and the sound of footsteps echo behind me.

  You’re okay, Mike. You can keep this up. Just breathe. You’re swimming, and you just have to breathe.

  The water shuts off with a twist of my wrist, and I grasp to my left for paper towels. My hand meets something warm.

  “Um, I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, squinting through the water in my eyes at the blurry blob I just unintentionally molested. The boy hands me a towel, and I wipe my face.

  Chris Myers smirks as I crumple the paper.

  Fuck me with a chainsaw. Why did it have to be him to see me in manic mode?

  “What’s got you all hot and bothered, Hernandez?”

  “N-nothing,” I stammer, heat scalding across my face. “I was just trying to stay awake.”

  “I see.” His eyebrow cocks.

  Oh, great. This is exactly what I need right now, to draw attention from the son of the man who, chances are, will be leading my lynch mob. I have to get out of here.

  “See you around,” I half whisper, eyes trained on the floor. Not waiting for his response, I bolt for the door. There’s no going back to Sunday school now. I can’t bear to be around all the people who could know my secret by this point. Plus, there’s only twenty minutes before service starts upstairs. Somehow, I have to put my mask back together before my parents see me.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and a text message from Jackie pops up.

  Where did you disappear to, Houdini?10:34am

  I tap back my response.

  Fat Tom was boring me to tears. I had to bail before I started snoring. I’ll see you guys in service.10:35am

  I hardly have time to take another step before it vibrates again.

  You made a wise decision. The only reason I’m not snoozing is because there’s this weird purple spot in his moustache. I think he may have some jelly stuck in there. It’s fascinating.10:36am

  I snicker, picturing Jackie’s intense stare that Fat Tom surely suspects to be undivided attention to the lesson. And, for just a second, I almost forget all about the sketchbook.

  It’s a short-lived second.

  By the end of service, my stomach hurts so badly I think I may have given myself an ulcer. I tell Jackie and Tanner I’m not feeling well, and I must look pretty convincing because they both just nod and abandon the subject. I catch Mom in the hallway as she comes from her week of double duty in the children’s wing. She sees my face and jumps right into Supermom mode. She wants to take me to the emergency room, but I convince her to take me home instead.

  I spend the rest of the day in bed, a blanket pulled o
ver my head. Only moving to puke my brains out every fifteen minutes.

  Mom drops off a bowl of chicken noodle soup around seven that I don’t touch. She rests the back of her hand against my forehead then kisses it softly.

  I relish in what could possibly be the last time my mother looks at me with sympathy. As soon as the truth shit hits the fan, I don’t think she’ll even be able to look at me again.

  Monday morning comes with the promise of certain doom streaming through the window along with the sunlight. My body moves as if I’m on autopilot, knotting my tie and pulling on my blazer. Dad gives me a strange look as I clear the landing, pulling his cell phone away from his ear.

  “You sure you want to go to school, Mike? I heard you ralphing all night, so I’m all for you staying home.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, voice puny.

  “If you say so.” He puts the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that….”

  Rosy steps away from me, holding her index fingers in the shape of a cross. “Stay away, patient zero.”

  I roll my eyes as she climbs into the backseat.

  Once we’re on the road, I press my head against the cool window in an attempt to quell the nausea.

  “I can still run you home, hijito,” Dad offers as we pull up to the sidewalk. “I’ll just cancel my first meeting—”

  “I’ll be fine, Dad,” I interrupt while opening the car door. “Love you.”

  He gives me another strange look. “Love you too, son.”

  I distance myself from Rosy. I want to be far away from her when the bomb hits. No need for her to be collateral damage. Resting my hands against the handle of the door, I hesitate. This could very well be the last time I set foot in this school. If that book fell into the wrong hands, my secret is bound to be all over Stronghold by now.

  I’ve stashed all my savings in my bag, so if things start heading south, I can just leave from here. Disappear into the chaotic streets of Atlanta, never to be seen again. A plan I developed between trips to the toilet last night. Honestly, it’s a shitty plan, but a plan nonetheless.

  With a final breath of resolve, I push the door in. My pace is frantic as I hit the hallway, head down and refusing to make eye contact with anyone as I go. There are people laughing on the left.