Say a Little Prayer(27)
Ben shakes his head. “That’s bullshit. We’re her friends. We want her there. She shouldn’t have to miss her senior prom.”
“I know. She shouldn’t have to do a lot of things.”
The words come out sharper than I intend. I feel Julia stiffen next to me and realize we’re straying dangerously close to the thing we don’t talk about. I swallow the anger crawling its way up the back of my throat and scramble for another topic. Something safe. Something normal. Something that hides my growing urge to stick my head out the window and scream.
I’m saved by the squeal of feedback through the bus speakers as someone taps on the microphone again. We all flinch, and when I peer over the rows of heads in front of me, I see Cindy standing at the front of the aisle.
“Good morning, campers!” she chirps, one hand braced on the seat next to her as we bump over another pothole. “Who’s ready for field trip day?”
Her voice is so sweet it makes my teeth hurt, but most of the people around us cheer, like they think this bright-eyed, slightly manic persona is completely believable.
“We’re all going to have sooo much fun,” Cindy continues, dragging out the ends of her words until they start to run together. “But, before we begin, let’s take a minute to preview today’s lesson. Like your schedule says, today’s focus is the virtue of generosity. You’ll still get your free time in town, don’t worry,” she adds, when a few of us exchange nervous glances. “But I encourage you to use this time to reflect on how you can spread God’s word to the larger community. Can anyone tell me why generosity is so important?”
The first few rows of campers look down, purposefully avoiding eye contact as Cindy peers at us over the mic. Julia tips her head in my direction, lips curling in a soft, secret smile, and whispers, “You’ll never guess what she’s about to say.”
Her breath ruffles the hair tucked behind my ear, and for a minute, my brain goes wonderfully, blissfully blank. “Does it have to do with going to hell?” I ask.
Up front, Cindy seems to give up on waiting for an answer. She tightens her grip on the mic and says, “Generosity is important because God doesn’t want you to end up in hell. He wants you to experience eternal salvation, and Proverbs 14:21 says, ‘blessed is he who is generous to the poor.’?”
“Yup.” I nod. “There it is.”
Julia bites her lip to keep from laughing, and I’m suddenly very glad Pastor Young isn’t here to lecture us again. I like watching her laugh. I’ve seen her do it thousands of times, but as I watch the dimples deepen on either side of her mouth, a single thought clangs through the back of my mind.
You can’t lose this.
I don’t care how many sins I have to commit this week. I don’t care if Pastor Young thinks I’m a bad influence. I can’t lose Julia, and if the only way to keep her is by proving her father wrong, I’ll tear his congregation apart from the inside.
Cindy clears her throat, pulling everyone’s attention back to the front of the bus. “Now I want to talk about something serious,” she says. “Generosity can be a guiding light, but that means it also has a shadow—greed. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that greed is everywhere. It exists to drive a wedge between us and God, to lure us in with false promises of material gain. I know we’re all looking forward to shopping this morning, but before you check out, take a minute and think about what you’re buying. Is it something you need? Are you trying to show off to your friends? Could you be using your time and resources to help someone else instead?”
Cindy presses a dramatic hand to her chest as her gaze sweeps the length of the bus. “The best way to show God’s generosity is through action. Remember that. And don’t forget to fill out your workbook prompts before we get back to camp. You’ll need them later tonight when you meet with your groups.”
She hands the microphone back to the driver, but it takes another minute for talk to resume across the bus. The implication is clear—even though this entire field trip revolves around our short-lived ability to purchase material goods, we are not, under any circumstances, to do anything of the sort. Cindy will probably make a list of anyone who returns to the bus with a shopping bag. She’ll probably make everyone pray for them on the way home.
That’s fine, I think, watching the cornfields outside my window give way to gray strip mall parking lots. This time, I won’t get caught.
Committing the sin of greed seems pretty straightforward, especially compared to yesterday’s lesson. I just have to buy something. I just have to want something badly enough to take it without considering the consequences, and Ben and Julia’s thrift store side quest has given me the perfect opportunity.
The bus turns into the parking lot, circling until it finds a spot near the back, and I’m out of my seat before we stop moving.
“Be back at noon!” Cindy calls from the front. “And don’t forget your workbooks!”
Julia squeezes into the aisle behind me. There’s a line forming between her eyebrows as we follow each other down the aisle, and I wonder if she’s also thinking about Cindy’s warning, how it would look if the pastor’s daughter came back with a bag of thrift store finds. I used to joke that Hannah inherited Mom’s perfectionism, but sometimes I think Julia could give them both a run for their money.