Horse Camp (6 page)

Dear Diary,

Knowing right and wrong was so, so much easier when we lived together with Mom and Dad, when we worshipped together and Daddy taught us the path to heaven. The recent dinner table argument last night has gotten me thinking how topsy-turvy things are now. It's nearly midnight, but I can't sleep. Stretch called us all together tonight to watch the ten o'clock news even though that's usually when we're forced to go to bed. Right away, I knew something was up because he normally doesn't let anyone watch TV. Sheryl and June Bug were there, too. Sheryl looked sympathetic (even though she was wearing a really inappropriate sundress) and bustled around getting glasses of water for everyone and putting boxes of Kleenex here and there as though we were getting ready for a funeral, which, it turns out, we sort of were.

Stretch sat down and patted his knee, and Pauly climbed right up and snuggled in close to the crook of Stretch's neck. Then the news came on, and Stretch told us to be quiet. The very first story was about Mom. Mom's been in the newspaper lots of times but this was the first time her case was on TV. How embarrassing! I always thought that if I were on TV, I would be sitting with an orphan or poor kid from a foreign country, asking for donations to build schools and houses and wells. It turns out I'm the daughter of a criminal! An anchor lady outside the courthouse pointed back to the big, brick building where Mom's future was being decided.

The news story included hand-drawn pictures of a woman who looked like Mom but was way thinner. The drawing showed her sitting at a table with a lawyer guy who didn't look very competent, in my opinion. He was pretty fat and wore tiny glasses. Mom wore a suit jacket, which looked really nice in a hand-drawn kind of way, so at least she didn't embarrass me the way Sheryl would if she were my mother and had to go to court and be on TV in the trampy outfits she wears. If Sheryl had to go to court and someone had to draw a picture of her, they'd probably draw fig leaves to cover up all of her private parts that are always halfway sticking out of her clothes.

As soon as I saw that drawing of Mom, it felt like a raw potato got stuck in my throat. I took a strand of my hair and put it in my mouth, just to have something to bite on. Mom makes me really mad, but she's still my mother, even if she did embarrass me and ruin our family and almost ruin Dad's church. Even though sometimes I have to admit that Mom did have a couple of valid points regarding Dad's ministry, which confuses me, because Dad is the head of the household and head of our nuclear family, so he is always supposed to be right. But when I think about it, I suppose asking all those poor people for more and more money doesn't seem all the way correct. And emailing and calling all those old people, asking for checks probably isn't an all-the-way right thing to do, either.

I mean, if Mom really didn't believe in what Dad was doing and really didn't think his motives were pure in collecting money from all the donors and stuff, there were probably a million other ways to deal with it rather than getting arrested for giving out medical aid for free and being on the evening news. Even though I think about our family's situation almost constantly, I still can't understand it or figure out how to fix it.

Sometimes, I sort of feel like Anne Frank, a girl killed by the Nazis, who wrote a really good book called
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl
. In it, she talks about being “a bundle of contradictions.” I feel
exactly
like that, too. Many times, I wish I had someone smart like her to talk to. And even though Anne Frank never accepted Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior, I think she's in heaven, and I'll probably get to meet her someday, and I have a feeling we'll really hit it off way better than I hit it off with June Bug, who doesn't know much about pain and suffering.

I looked around to see how Percy and Pauly were reacting to seeing Mom on TV, but the room was dim, and I couldn't tell if they had tears in their eyes or not. I did, but I didn't want anyone to see. I miss Mom so much, but I didn't want people to think that I feel sorry for her or for myself because of what she brought on herself, Dad, and all of us. Sometimes, you just have to let people suffer for their own sins, or they will never learn their lesson. Sometimes, you have to cut your losses, like Dad always says.

Then the news anchor said that the verdict was guilty and the sentence was five to seven years in prison. My whole body started to sweat, but I felt really cold, which is exactly how I felt when I got malaria that one time and Mom took care of me day and night. Percy yelled, “What?” And then he yelled, “No. No way!” Another picture of Mom standing to hear the verdict flashed on the screen.

And then Stretch, who hardly ever says anything nice about anyone, said, “You kids look hard at that woman. There goes one of the last martyrs for a truly good cause.”

And even though I don't understand exactly what that means, I think it's quite a compliment. The camera panned to a bunch of people with signs and candles lit for Mom! A reporter interviewed one of the supporters, an older, smart-looking woman who said, “They've put the wrong person on trial, and I'm ashamed to live in a country where a good woman like this goes to prison for doing what's right.” One person held up a sign that said,
PUT THE PHARMACEUTICAL COMPANIES ON TRIAL
! Another sign said,
WOMEN'S HEALTH CARE IS THE WHOLE WORLD'S PROBLEM
!

Those people made me remember Anne Frank again, and how, if you really think about it, Anne Frank and her family were breaking the law by not going to ghettos like the Nazis wanted them to. It made me think that sometimes laws are wrong.

But then I thought, that can't be right, because what if everyone thought they were above the law? If you ask me, it's really hard to figure out when you should follow the law or when you should break it, like Anne Frank and Mom.

Sheryl brought a Kleenex to Percy, and even though he's twelve years old, like me, he bawled like a baby into her chest. He was crying so hard I don't even think he thought one second about Sheryl's enormous breasts in an inappropriate way. Pauly is too little to understand. He asked Stretch if Mom was coming to live at the farm now, too. And Stretch told him not just yet. Pauly said that when she did come, she could share his room.

Stretch said for us not to worry too much because they would appeal the ruling. He said that it was important for us kids to see our mom and see how much support was out there for her.

I have to admit that all those signs and protestors surprised me. I didn't know that anyone was actually on Mom's side. I mean, for crying out loud, she committed some real crimes. And you can't just run around breaking laws whenever you want to. But when I said that, Stretch said that when the laws hurt the common folks, someone needs to break them. That sort of sounds right, too, but it's not what Dad says at all. Not even close.

Dad believes in following the laws and rules. And I, for one, was much happier when we were all just following the laws as a family. Then Pauly said he was going to beat up all those cops handcuffing Mom and break her out of jail, and I had to go to my room because I couldn't take any more and was close to crying.

I'm not one for being dramatic or crying or getting hysterical in public, but what Pauly said nearly did me in, so I just lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a little while, June Bug came knocking and asked if I was all right.

It really bugged me that she was being so nosy and acting like she was my friend when we're not even related and don't even know each other. I told her I was fine. She told me not to worry and that I'd be stronger for all of these trials. I was about to get really mad at her for talking to me like she was the adult and I was the kid when she told me this:

June Bug:
You know, my dad's in prison, too.

Me:
(My mouth goes dry, and I swallow. June Bug doesn't look like the type of person who knows someone in prison. Granted, she looks a little
more
like a person who knows someone in prison than I do. But still, I am surprised.)

June Bug:
I think you should be proud of your mom. She's going to prison for a good cause. She was helping sick people who couldn't afford medicine and making sure big companies didn't use poor people as lab rats. It's actually noble. I wish I could say that about my dad.

Me:
But what she was doing was illegal! (Sometimes I am amazed at how quickly my emotions can change from sadness to anger. It feels easier to be mad than sad, and I am starting to get really mad at June Bug for being such a know-it-all. First chicken diseases and now prison.)

June Bug:
I think it's relative. Some good deeds are illegal. That doesn't mean they're wrong, though. At least, I don't think so.

Me:
(That sounds exactly like something Mom would say. Somehow, though, it sounds different from a person my age, even if it is June Bug. I've never even heard a person my age use the word
relative
like that before.) Why's your dad in jail?

June Bug:
Something bad. He had a meth lab in his barn.

Me:
(Trying not to look surprised so I can avoid hurting her feelings, even though making illegal drugs is really, really bad.) You must be so mad at him.

June Bug:
I used to be. But I'm not anymore. Now I'm actually kind of proud of him. He's been in prison for three years already. He's gotten his GED in there and is even taking college courses. He wants to work at a rehab center when he gets out.

Me:
Do you think your mom and dad will get back together then?

June Bug:
No, because they were never really together in the first place and just conceived me on a fling. Mom said they went to a concert, met in the mosh pit, got matching tattoos, and conceived me all on the same night. But Dad had a different girlfriend already and wasn't looking for a new one.

Me:
(Not too surprised after I consider the way Sheryl dresses.) I'm sorry about that.

June Bug:
(Shrugs.) It's okay. I'm actually pretty okay with it. People do wild and crazy things sometimes, but that doesn't mean they're bad people or bad parents. I really like and love both my parents. I even really like my dad's girlfriend, Harmony. And I love Stretch, too.

Me:
(I think about how many of Stretch's qualities I don't like and try to figure out which of Stretch's qualities June Bug loves.) Wow, June Bug. You are one understanding person.

June Bug:
Well, if you're not understanding about people's faults, pretty soon you won't have any people in your life, because all people have them.

Me:
Not my dad. He doesn't. That's why he's a minister.

June Bug:
(Just smiles at me.)

Me:
Thanks, June Bug. G'night.

June Bug:
G'night, Penny.

Then she left my room and closed the door softly. At first, I was pretty mad that she acted like she was more understanding than me, but then I decided that judging her for bragging was not practicing understanding on my part, so I just forgave her for bragging. Then I thought about how weird it was that June Bug had given me advice when
I
am the minister's daughter, when
I
am the one who should be in the moral position to give advice, and she's just the daughter of a druggy and a promiscuous woman. And she's giving me advice?! I always imagine myself to be the person keeping it all together, the person with the answers, the person
other
people come to for advice.

Though I wasn't surprised that it's true, I
was
surprised to hear June Bug admit to being randomly conceived by her parents. She practically bragged about being illegitimate and not coming from a nuclear family. I don't think she knows that the disintegration of the nuclear family is at the heart of all the world's troubles and sins.

I've been wondering about Dad. Where is he? Why doesn't he write more often? I know he has a lot of work to do, getting the new church up and running, but I've been wondering if he's choosing God over Percy, Pauly, and me? I know you're supposed to put God first in your life, but you should also find time for your family and especially your own children. I know Mom chose her illegal crimes over her family. Dad said it a hundred times before we had to come here. Dad said she knew the consequences and did it, anyway. But now it kind of feels like he's choosing his church over us, too.

I feel like both my parents have chosen other things over their own kids. I mean, Sheryl's not what I would call a wonderful role model or appropriate dresser, but at least she's taking care of June Bug and hugs her and kisses her as though June Bug is the greatest kid in the world. And Sheryl's also really, really nice to Percy and Pauly, as if she thinks of them as her own kids. She makes them dinner and tells them to comb their hair. I even saw her lick her finger and then wipe a dirt smudge off Percy's chin. She's not related to us in any way and has absolutely no obligation to be nice to us. But she is. Things are just really, really out of whack around here.

Dear Mom,

Thanks for the letter. I miss you, and I love you, too.

I'm glad to hear that there's a chance for an appeal. I heard Stretch and Sheryl talking the other night about a second mortgage to pay for a better lawyer. That guy you had looked not very professional, in my opinion. The other side's lawyers looked wayyyyy better. They had much nicer suits and more expensive watches. Also, they kept their pens in their pockets, which looks really professional and serious. Maybe you should get a guy like that, a guy who looks like he has it all together. Judges respect that.