What Would Emma Do? (7 page)

I used to love watching cartoons. Sometimes they would show a tiny, itsy-bitsy snowflake falling onto the top of a big hill, and it would begin to roll down, becoming a tiny snowball, gathering speed along the way, and by the time it got to the end it would be a snowball the size of a house, consuming everything in its path. The situation with Kimberly was like that.

Kimberly regained consciousness but couldn’t (apparently) recall anything about what had happened. The doctors declared that her problem had been “drug related.” They might as well have come out and said her problem was that she was kidnapped and probed by aliens. People were shocked. Kimberly was a “good girl.” Her dad was the chief of police and her mom volunteered at the church—being good was in her genetic makeup. Then there was the fact that she was best friends with Darci, everyone’s favorite hypocrite. In Wheaton good girl versus bad girl status was established in elementary school. Changing sides rarely happened, no matter what reality might lead you to believe.

If Kimberly had drugs in her system, then the question remained, how did they get there?

• a. Kim took the drugs on purpose. (A good girl like her? Never.)
  
• b. Kim took the drugs by accident. (Perhaps she tripped and they fell into her mouth.)
  
• c. Kim was slipped the drugs by some evil, nefarious person who clearly intended to harm her while she was engaged in some innocent activity, like knitting socks for orphans in some cesspool of a Third World country.
  

Only in Wheaton would (c) be chosen as the answer. Darci and Kimberly maintained they were at Darci’s house all night, having an innocent sleepover. They would tell this story with wide, blinking eyes, their hands folded under their chins. If the preacher’s daughter says she was home, then she was home.

Going to church in Wheaton is a mandatory activity. There is no obvious attendance taking—it isn’t like Reverend Evers calls off roll at the start of service—but mark my words, everyone is aware of who’s there and who isn’t. You’d have to have a major organ falling out before you would be excused from service. Even then they would encourage you to drag yourself in (perhaps holding your liver in a plastic shopping bag) and be prayed over before returning to the hospital. Sometimes Joann and I sat next to each other in the back, where we would be free to whisper about the seemingly direct relationship between faith and big hair. Reverend Evers’s wife seemed to style her hair taller each week, as if trying to be closer to God. Today when I came in I noticed that Joann and Colin were sitting together, sandwiched between their families. Their mothers looked like they might be swapping Crock-Pot recipes while their dads talked over the Colts’ chances to make the Superbowl. Joann waved me over to join them, but I couldn’t imagine squishing into the pew. It was clear to me there wasn’t any room.

You would think if they wanted you to attend church, they would make it a welcoming place, but the pews at Trinity Evangelical were carved from some type of hard wood designed for maximum discomfort. I shifted again; I was stiff from the meet yesterday. My mother shot me a look indicating I should sit still. I swallowed a sigh. This is why we don’t usually sit near each other. Reverend Evers was on a rant. He had that little white spit blob in the corner of his mouth, and he was gripping the pulpit like a man going down for the last time. I snuck a look at my watch.

“Make no mistake, the devil is among us. He’s on the radio singing along with the hip-hop. He’s on the TV and in the godless movies that come out of Hollywood. He’s in our children’s books, which glorify witchcraft.”

Reverend Evers has a serious hatred for Harry Potter. In his opinion, the boy wizard might as well grow horns. He takes the success of the books as a personal affront. He can’t understand their popularity. Not that he’s ever read any of the books, mind you, but apparently he could tell by the covers that they weren’t worth the paper they were written on. So much for the “don’t judge a book by its cover” theory. Reverend Evers tried to schedule a book burning after the last book came out, but only three people showed up. Three books on fire looks less like a political statement and more like a small barbecue.

“We have seen ourselves as safe. We have built a community based on God, but the devil creeps in even here. Now our children are at risk. The devil is coming for our babies!” Preacher Evers rumbled.

A few of the small kids peered around, looking a little fearful. The adults were nodding. I couldn’t look over—if Joann and Colin were nodding too, I would have to run screaming from the church. Kimberly’s parents were in the first row, with Kimberly between them. She looked pale, but otherwise fine. Darci sang in the choir along with her mother, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she had on a touch of glitter lip gloss and her hair looked shellacked. She was in tall hair training.

“Someone has come into our community and tried to take one of our own, to poison her. I say we will be a voice in the darkness crying out NO MORE! We will create a wall of unity that shall protect our families and keep out those who would harm us. Linked arms and linked hearts. We will keep our children safe in the arms of the Lord, as Mark 10:14 tells us, “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” Today we give thanks that our little lamb Kimberly has been returned safely to us. We thank God for listening to our prayers, and we vow here today as a community to ferret out those who did this. We will not rest until we have thrown the devil out of our town!”

Reverend Evers dropped his head. I had the sense he was waiting for applause. I was terrified it was going to be like a horror movie and he would bop back up and keep going. He was the Jason of preachers, but instead of a chain saw, he wielded a Bible and a serious case of judgment. Thankfully, he seemed done. We were in the home stretch. A couple of prayers, a song, and we would be out. I really needed him to wrap it up. I still hadn’t done my paper for English class on
A Tale of Two Cities
.

That’s when it happened.

Darci gave a small cry and tumbled off the choir riser. She slumped to the floor. She lay still for a second and then began to shake and shudder. It appeared to be a very stylish seizure. Everyone stood up at once, as if we were planning to break into a round of “Amazing Grace.” Darci’s mom and dad ran to her side and dropped to the floor next to her. There was no sound for a split second; it was absolutely silent in the church, as if everyone was waiting for the sound waves to ripple out of the room.

“Someone call 911!” a voice yelled out, and then everyone began to panic. Kids cried, and there was a crash as someone dropped her purse, its contents clattering down on the tile floor. Some people pushed up toward the action, while others tried to start herding their families out of the church. A few more stood in place, as if they weren’t sure if they were coming or going.

I think it was safe to say church service was officially over.

11

God, you know the Bible story about the tower of Babel, where no one can understand anyone else? Sometimes I think I’m living out that story. Everyone around me is speaking English, but we don’t understand one another at all. I have to tell you, if I were going to pick a Bible story to live out, this wouldn’t be it. I would prefer to be in the garden with a cute Adam (no fig leaf required). No disrespect to Eve, of course. To be honest, I would prefer Noah’s ark, even with the catastrophic flood aspect. I like animals. In fact, I like animals more than I like most people I know. Then again, if I have to live out a Bible story, the Babel story is better than most of Revelation. The horsemen of the apocalypse freak me out.

“You have to help me with this. I’ve got to send it in next week and I have nothing.” I looked down at the computer screen in disgust. The curser blinked, and I’m fairly sure it was blinking in Morse code,
“You’re an idiot, you’re
an idiot.”
Every time a letter from Northwestern came in the mail my heart would speed up, and every time it was a demand for something else. You ask people for a few zillion dollars so you can go to their school, and they keep demanding things of you. I wished they would just let me know if I had the scholarship or if I was going to have to sell off a kidney to go there, because there was no way I was staying here. I looked at the letter again and wondered if instead of answering the question I could just send in a copy of the results from the meet that weekend.

“What part are you stuck on?” Joann asked.

I doubted she was taking my crisis seriously, since she wasn’t even looking up from
Vogue
. Of course, in fairness, I hadn’t told her about not applying anywhere else either, so it’s possible she didn’t grasp the severity of the situation. She held up a page of the magazine to me.

“Do you think I would look fat in this?”

“Everyone would look fat in that,” I said.

“Huh.” She scrunched her eyes up at it. “Keira Knightley doesn’t look fat in it.”

“Keira Knightley is a human hanger. I suspect she considers a single grain of rice to be a well-rounded meal.”

“I still like the pants, plus Colin loves Keira.”

“You realize, of course, that while you’re debating the pros and cons of the wisdom of high-waisted sailor pants, my future hangs in the balance?”

“Okay, sorry. I’m paying attention.” She put down the magazine.

“This scholarship application has this stupid essay requirement.”

“What’s the matter with those snooty colleges? It’s like they want you to be capable of thought in order to go to their fancy school. It sounds discriminatory to me.”

I started to nod in agreement when I realized that she was making fun of me.

“Your wit is not appreciated.”

Joann tossed a pillow at my head with a laugh.

“You’re good in English. What’s the problem?”

“How are you supposed to answer a question like ‘Why have you chosen Northwestern University and what do you hope to get from your educational experience?’ How am I supposed to know what I want to get? You just know the correct answer is not the truth.” I mimed typing on the computer. “Dear Admissions Officer, by attending your fine ivory tower of higher learning I hope to get as far away from my hometown as possible.”

“You need to put stuff like, ‘Through athletics I have learned the importance of preparation and effort, and I hope to transfer these skills to the world of academics and win the most important race: life.’”

I looked over at her with my mouth open. I had no idea Joann was capable of such huge volumes of BS. You think you know people.

“That was so good. Scary good. Hang on, I want to write that down before I forget.” I started typing feverishly on the computer.

“With everything going on, I bet you won’t be the only one thinking about going away to school now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The poisonings?” Joann sat there looking at me, as if she suspected I had a head injury. “Didn’t you hear? They got Kelly, too.”

Joann looked out the window, as if she expected someone to be sneaking up on her from behind. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Now Kelly is sick?”

“Uh-huh. It happened at the Spirit Squad! meeting after school. They were making a big get-well poster for Darci and apparently, all of a sudden, she told people she was feeling funny, lightheaded, and then
wham
, she fell over.” Joann snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Cut down in her prime.”

“I bet Darci is not too happy to share the spotlight even more.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you find it the tiniest bit odd that Darci sees Kimberly getting all this attention and then suddenly she has the same problem?”

“Darci and Kimberly are best friends. It isn’t like they have some big competition.”

I shrugged and looked back at the computer screen.

“No matter what you think of Darci, someone slipped something to Kimberly. Something happened, and someone made it happen. The hospital is running all kinds of tests on the three of them to see if they can figure out any common factors.”

“There were no drugs in Darci’s system. Zero. I’m willing to bet there wasn’t anything in Kelly’s system either. You want to know the common factor? The desire for attention.”

“You can’t think they would fake something this serious.”

“They’re some of the most annoying girls at school, but honestly, who would actually poison them?”

“My mom said she saw the Evers family down at the Stop and Shop, and they think it might be terrorists.”

“Terrorists? Please tell me you’re joking.”

Joann’s face was serious. No joke. I turned off the computer.

“Why would terrorists poison three girls in Middle of Nowhere, Indiana?”

“Not middle of nowhere. America’s heartland.” Joann paused to let that sink in. “Plus, all the girls go to a Christian school. Reverend Evers told my mom by attacking here they create a culture of fear, which is exactly what they do. Terrorize.”

“This is Wheaton. If you pierce your ears, you can’t walk a block without at least four people noticing and calling your parents to see if they know. Can you actually imagine that some terrorist is going to slink into town with a bag of drugs and not be noticed?”

“But that’s the thing. Mrs. Homer told the police that she saw a car with suspicious people on Friday night. They were driving without their headlights, and she thinks she heard that weird Middle Eastern music coming from the car.”

“Mrs. Homer is, like, a hundred and ten years old. She can’t recognize her own family members if they’re standing right in front of her, screaming their names. She makes Helen Keller look like an eagle eye. This is the person we’re trusting to spot Osama?”

“She didn’t say she saw their faces. Just that they were, you know, brown.”

“Brown? Well then, they must be guilty of something. Imagine that, being brown. You think they would have known they would stick out here in the whitest town in America. Although I suppose since they’re brown, we shouldn’t expect them to be too smart.”