Say a Little Prayer(18)
There’s a shuffle of movement as everyone flips through their book. Sure enough, there’s a large number three printed at the beginning of mine, telling me I should meet Counselor Gabe in the picnic area after breakfast. I crane my neck, trying to catch Julia’s eye across the cafeteria, but she’s too busy with her own book to notice. I nudge Ben with my elbow instead. “What group are you?”
“Two,” he whispers. “You?”
My heart sinks. “Three.”
“For the next week, your group will be like your family,” Pastor Young continues. “You’ll work together, pray together, and most importantly, grow together. That’s what this is about at the end of the day, right? Pleasant Hills is a community and everyone in this room—from the counselors to the campers beside you—is here to support you on your spiritual journey.”
I sink further into my seat so Pastor Young can’t see me roll my eyes. I haven’t spoken to some of these people in a year. Our friendships conveniently ceased to exist around the same time I stopped going to church, and I’m not trying to rekindle them now. No, I’m here with a plan—seven sins in seven days. A week to prove Pastor Young wrong.
I lean over and fish my prayer book out of my bag. Last night’s notes stare up at me from the first page, but I flip past them and start a new paragraph instead. Who, exactly, is Pleasant Hills here to support? Who gets to make those decisions?
“What are you doing?”
Patrick leans over my shoulder, so close I can smell the syrup on his breath. I snap the book closed and tuck it under my thigh. “Praying.”
“Already?”
“It’s never too early to speak to the Lord.”
He blinks, like he can’t figure out if I’m serious, and Pastor Young chooses that moment to lead the cafeteria in a very long, very self-indulgent group prayer. I flash Patrick my most innocent smile as I bow my head.
The fewer people who know what I’m doing, the better.
My initial confidence fades, however, when we’re finally dismissed and everyone starts separating themselves into groups. I’d kind of hoped I could stick with Julia all week, but as I watch her make her way toward the chapel, arm in arm with a younger girl I don’t recognize, that small bubble of hope bursts. Instead, I turn and hike toward the picnic area alone, trying my best not to look back.
Until this week, I’ve been able to pack all my strange, complicated feelings about leaving Pleasant Hills into neat little boxes. I missed it quietly, I ignored the ache of watching my old friends post pictures from the ice cream shop near the church, and if I tried hard enough, I found I could make everyone believe that I was really, truly okay. I could almost make myself believe it, too. Now I think it’s easier to pretend those feelings don’t exist.
If I acknowledge them, it means admitting the real reasons I hate watching Julia walk off without me. It means wondering how much of our own relationship had been built on common interests and convenience, if there would be a day where she decides that being my friend is more trouble than it’s worth. I know it’s possible. Amanda and Greer chose Pastor Young over their friendship with Hannah, and he’s not even their dad.
I shake the thought away, purposefully sealing it back where it belongs. I’ve spent a year ignoring that particularly painful reminder, and I’m not about to let it out now. Instead, I focus on the path ahead of me, gravel crunching under my feet as I walk toward the picnic area.
Three long tables sit at the edge of the forest, each stacked with a different haphazard pile of supplies—nails, rolls of packing tape, bottles of glue. A counselor who I assume is Gabe sits on top of the nearest table, feet resting on the bench below as he scrolls through something on his phone. He has the same smooth, shiny look as Cindy, like they’ve both been run through a religious rock tumbler on the way here. Three first-year boys stand off to the side, and I’m just bracing myself for a week of pretending to relate to them when a familiar face appears over the hill.
“Oh, thank god.” Delaney pauses to catch her breath, both hands braced on the knees of her pink cargo pants. Her braids are tied back with an identically bright bandana, and when she meets my eye, she looks as relieved as I do to not be standing here alone. “I thought I was going to have to deal with that by myself.”
Delaney jabs a thumb over her shoulder, and the relief I felt at her arrival abruptly vanishes when I spot Greer on the path behind her. She gives me a dismissive once over, eyes flicking from my still damp hair to my paint-splattered sneakers before brushing past us without a word.
It takes every ounce of my self-control not to groan. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.” Delaney slings one arm over my shoulder. “Come on. We’re in this together, I guess.”
Her words echo in my mind as we continue down the path. We’re in this together. I had assumed most of the campers this week would be like Amanda or Greer—righteous and arrogant and eager to throw each other under the bus if Pastor Young willed it, but Delaney feels like someone I could be friends with.
We come to a stop in front of the picnic table, finally joining the rest of the group. There are six of us total—me, Delaney, Greer, and the three boys from before. It’s not until Greer purposefully clears her throat that Gabe finally looks up.
“Oh!” He jumps, phone clattering to the table like he’s just now remembering he has a job. “Hey, fam. I’m Gabe, and I’ll be your group leader this week. Before we get started, I just want to let you know that this is a safe space, so if you have any questions or concerns during your time here, you can totally bring them to me.”