Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature (15 page)

And then I walked into English, and Bethany and Teresa sat hunched over their copy of the
Post,
and Bethany looked like she was crying, and I scurried by them to get to my seat, and next thing I knew Teresa had pitched a note onto my desk saying,
R U fricking crazy U BITCH!

So you can guess how fun that class was.

Then I had to walk the halls with everyone gawking at me until I could escape into yoga, and that class was all right, except that I forgot my yoga clothes at home. Trust me, trying to relax while seeing in the mirror my bright yellow shirt screaming
HAVE FAITH—EVEN RELIGIOUS FANATICS CAN EVOLVE
was next to impossible, no matter how many cleansing breaths Missy had us take.

Fine. Another walk through the halls, and at least this time there were more yellow shirts everywhere. Sometime
during first and second period Kayla and Josh must have finished handing out all hundred. At least I didn't feel so alone and exposed anymore.

But then I walked into biology, and Casey wasn't there yet, and for a minute I panicked, thinking maybe he wouldn't show up today for some reason. And then the door opened and in he walked, looking especially good in that yellow shirt with his dark curly hair and dark eyebrows and those eyes like dark blue lake water, and that's when it happened.

He saw me. And his eyes changed.

They went from being open and curious and ready to take it all in like they always are to suddenly looking all soft and sleepy and—I know it sounds weird but—tender. The skin at the edges of his eyes crinkled just slightly, like he was beginning to smile but didn't want to rush it. And his lips curved up just the barest amount, like the look between us was a secret we shouldn't give away. And for that one moment it was like I was the only person in the room as far as he was concerned, and he was so happy to see me, and what's more, he fully expected me to be as happy to see him, which I was. And that's how I knew.

And maybe I knew it before, like yesterday when he was sort of yelling at me but also sort of complimenting me, or maybe I knew it before then, since every time I accidentally even brush against his shirt I feel like I might accidentally pass out, but I just haven't wanted to deal with it because I CANNOT like Casey Connor. Not as a boyfriend. Why?????

1. I am not allowed to date for another year and a half. Okay, a year and five months. So having a deep crush on someone right now is a useless, potentially tortuous situation. I need to just get him out of my mind. It will only hurt to think about him.
   

2. I really, really like having Casey as a friend. And if I start thinking I'm in love with him, then I'll act all weird around him, and it won't be easy and fun anymore, and I'll ruin everything. I can't afford to lose the one friend I have right now.
   

3. It's bad enough that I've lied to my parents about who Casey is. My only salvation is that I won't have to lie anymore starting next weekend. The project will be over, I'll be back to coming straight home after school, I'll just be seeing Casey in school—the danger of exposure will be over. If I try to extend the lie by secretly spending time with Casey, knowing I LIKE him, then for sure I'll be found out one day, and then my parents will lock me up for good and never, ever trust me again.
   

4. I don't even know if Casey feels the same way. I think he might, but I don't know for sure. And even if he does, so what? That doesn't mean everything will work out perfectly. And even if we were totally, mutually in love, that might end someday, and then I'd have lost him forever. See number 2 above.
   

5. I've never had a boyfriend before. I don't even know what to do. My parents are right: I'm not ready, and I won't be ready until I'm at least sixteen. And even then, I'll have to figure out how to deal with the whole sex thing (of which there will be none until I'm married), and maybe Casey would dump me anyway once he found out about the no-sex thing, and I'd be right back at number 2.
   

6. So just put it out of your mind. The whole thing is futile.
   

So I've decided to make myself a deal. You, self, are allowed to think about Casey—think anything you want, totally guilt-free—but only for one hour, one time a week. Specifically, during Wednesday yoga. But the rest of the time, it's business as usual, liking Casey just as a friend and forgetting you ever thought of him as anything else.

It's all I'm offering—take it or leave it.

And who knows? Maybe this way the whole thing will fade over time. If I know I can't have romantic feelings for Casey except during one class period one day a week, the problem is bound to die away. If you don't feed something, eventually it starves to death, right?

It will take discipline and vigilance, but I know I can do it. Besides, there are plenty of other things going on in my life right now to distract me. Obviously.

So no more thinking about him today. Put him out of your mind. Go hang out with him in the library and act normal. Go over to his house after school and act normal.
Go over there Saturday and act normal. Thank goodness I'm grounded on Sunday.

And then there's just Monday, Tuesday, and first period Wednesday to get through, and then it's yoga, and I can think about him all I want. And when the hour is up, I'll go back to being just his friend, and everything will be okay.

This can work. I know it.

Thirty

I am an awful person. That's just been proven once again.

I'm in world civ right now, and Bethany just came up to me before the bell, and had tears in her eyes, and asked, “Why did you tell?”

I tried to go with the lie that it had been Denny who talked, not me, but Bethany just shook her head and said, “I can't believe you told.”

She sat back down and left me feeling like a you-know-what.

Because here's the thing: out of all of them, even though what Bethany did probably hurt Denny just as much as what everyone else did, the one difference, in my opinion, is that Bethany was sincere.

Bethany truly thought she could save Denny's soul.

How do I know? Because Bethany actually—it feels weird to admit this, considering how mad I've been at her—Bethany actually has a pure heart. Far purer than mine, that's for sure.

Bethany cries a lot. She cries for starving children in
Sudan. She cries for homeless people she passes on the street. She cries for kids we've gone to school with who have been beaten by their parents. She cries for people who don't know God.

And despite this, she's not a drama queen. She's not looking for reasons to break down. She'll be going along just fine, laughing and talking, and then suddenly some news of human misery crosses her path, and it just destroys her. She can't bear it. She wants everyone to be well and safe and loved.

She's about a hundred times better a person than her father.

If I were dying, I would want Bethany holding my hand. If I were giving birth to my child in a dark stairwell somewhere while bombs raged around me, I would feel safe and comforted if Bethany were there swabbing my brow. There's just something about her—no, not just something. Bethany is actually filled with the Holy Spirit. The rest of us may aspire to that, but Bethany actually has it. She's had it as long as I've ever known her.

But Bethany doesn't always know how to use her powers for good. She has a big mouth. She bumbles around and just blurts things out, like “God wouldn't like that,” or “I'm sure Jesus will forgive you,” or, in Denny's case, things like “A man shall not lie with a man. This is an abomination that leads to death. The sinner shall be tossed out of our midst and stoned.”

Not very subtle.

To be fair, I know Bethany is in a hard position. I can't
imagine what it must be like to be Pastor Wells's daughter. Lord, thank you right now for sparing me.

I'm sure Bethany didn't have a choice when Pastor Wells came up with this campaign to root out homosexuality in our schools. He told her, “This is your mission, now go forth.” Or words to that effect. So Bethany did what she was told—onward, Christian soldier.

But having a good heart, Bethany wanted to take it further. It was her idea not just to condemn Denny but to actually try to convert him. To heterosexuality, I mean. It's not like she was going to throw herself at him and try to be his girlfriend, but she truly believed that if we prayed for Denny long and hard enough, he would transform and become straight.

Maybe I believed it, too. I certainly prayed my share of prayers.

But Bethany took it all the way. Anytime she saw Denny in the hall, she'd instantly drop to her knees and start praying out loud, begging God to forgive Denny and change him.

People walking past thought it was funny, of course, which didn't help Denny blend in. And the look on his face every time Bethany did it—I think that's when it started getting to me that we were hurting Denny very, very much.

And with Bethany leading the charge, the others felt safe doing their own thing. Like the notes Teresa kept stuffing in his locker—not just Bible verses, trust me. Or the pictures Adam and Jesse liked to draw and leave for
him on his chair. Or the things Lara and a bunch of the other girls said to his face, or what some of the guys did to him in the locker room.

And here's the thing: what if Denny isn't really gay? It didn't occur to me at the time, but lately it's been on my mind. I mean, just because someone looks and acts gay doesn't mean he's out there doing anything about it. It's like assuming just because a girl looks all butch she must like girls instead of guys, when really it's just that she prefers sports over makeup, and someday she's going to marry the man of her dreams and have a bunch of kids.

But then I've also been thinking, so what if Denny
had
done something about it? What if he had a boyfriend or something? I'm not really sure that's any of our business.

Because why should it matter whether someone's gay or not, as long as he's a nice person? It's like saying someone is going to hell just because he lives in some remote village in Africa and the missionaries couldn't get to him in time to tell him about Jesus. I think the only test in life should be, are you a nice person or a mean one?

And I definitely know that Denny Pierce is a nice person. And what my friends did to him really made him suffer. And that makes me feel worse than I can say, because I should have spoken up and helped him.

But the truth is, I never thought he would try to kill himself. And by the time I realized how bad things were for him, it was too late to do anything about it except say that I was sorry and explain why everything had happened.

I think maybe if Bethany had a chance and had a
different father, she might have apologized, too. Which is why seeing her all teary just now makes me feel bad for her. But not as bad as I feel for Denny. The whole thing is just a mess.

Look, I can't do anything about it anymore. My letter says what it says and I can't take it back, and now there's a lawsuit, and we all just have to deal with it. We can't change the past. We can only adapt and change to try to do better in the future. Which is exactly what Ms. Shepherd has been drilling into our heads every day, and what Josh's T-shirts say Bible Grrrl sez. Well, now I do say it: We all need to evolve.

I doubt telling that to Bethany will help.

Thirty-one

Kayla hugged me as soon as Casey and I walked into the house. “Superstar!”

I wasn't feeling anything close to as happy as she was. I shrugged her off.

“Tough day?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Sorry, champ. We still love you.”

Josh came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of microwave popcorn and a bag of pistachios.

“Big doin's,” Kayla told me. “Catch ya later.” They disappeared into her bedroom.

Whatever. I couldn't shake my bad mood. Ever since that confrontation with Bethany, I'd been feeling like garbage. Even seeing Casey waiting for me after school and walking with him back to his house did nothing to improve my attitude, even though lately that's been my favorite part of the day.

At least with Kayla otherwise occupied, Casey and I could finally get some work done. We're so behind on our project, and time is definitely running out.

So I spent some time catching up making entries on our chart. Then we took the puppies outside and ran them through another stress and mental-agility test—this time an obstacle course of boxes, lawn-chair cushions, and empty flowerpots.

Despite our best efforts, the race was pretty chaotic. Unless it's mealtime, it's hard to get all of the puppies moving in the same direction at once. But Casey and I clapped and called and coaxed them along, until finally they got the idea where they were going.

Some of them just aren't into competition. I can relate. Shadow was doing fine, loping along with the others, but then he noticed this thing that kept following him— this long ropelike thing that wouldn't leave him alone— and he had to stop right where he was and chase it. Even when he managed to snap at it a few times, he still didn't get that it was his own tail. He kept on trying for it.

Right at that moment Pink figured out there was cheese waiting for her at the end, so she came barreling on through, clipping Shadow on her way.

Casey shouted, “Puppy down! Puppy down!” but Pink didn't care. She got to the finish line and snuffled out the ball of cheese we'd hidden inside a cup.

But once again my little Christmas was the compassionate one. She stopped and sat and politely waited while Shadow chased his tail, even pretending she needed to scratch so he wouldn't feel rushed. Then when Pink knocked him down, Christmas went over and gave Shadow's exposed belly a good sniff before she went back to the race. She would make an excellent companion dog.

She would make an excellent companion for me.

Why do I torture myself this way?

Casey and I ran the puppies through the course a few more times to see if they were learning (oh yes—Bear found a few shortcuts), and then gave them a break to relax and play on the grass.