Say a Little Prayer(35)
There’s no food at all.
I whirl toward Julia. “What the hell is this?”
It comes out more accusatory than I mean, but she just shakes her head, lips slightly parted as she stares at the empty kitchen. “I…have no idea.”
And just like that, my good mood vanishes. Every vaguely positive thought flies right out of my head, and I’m back where I started—infuriated and resentful and all too ready to wrap my hands around Pastor Young’s throat. Because this is his doing, obviously. We did something wrong, or he’s trying to teach us a lesson and depriving us of breakfast is the only way to get it through our sinful, traitorous skulls.
Unfortunately, it’s working. I would do unspeakable things for an omelet right now, including but not limited to accepting Jesus Christ as my personal savior.
Most of the other campers look just as confused as we are, clustered around the tables in nervous packs. When Pastor Young steps into the aisle, the conversation is so woefully subdued that he doesn’t even bother with the microphone.
“Good morning, campers! I hope you’re all feeling energized and refreshed after yesterday’s field trip.” I flinch as his too-bright voice echoes off the walls, and I drop onto a bench near the back. “As you can see from the lack of buffet line, we’re doing something a little different this morning. Today’s lesson is all about temperance. This virtue is often overlooked in our world of instant gratification, but I personally think it’s one of the most important stepping stones on the path to enlightenment. Which, of course, is one of the reasons we’ll be fasting today.”
Next to me, Julia slides down in her seat, head barely visible over the top of the table. I close my eyes and resist the urge to join her. Why hadn’t I bothered to look ahead at today’s lesson? I could have bought snacks during our field trip or at least prepared myself for a day of misery. Judging by the number of nervous, wide-eyed looks flying around the cafeteria, I’m not alone.
“Oh, don’t look so heartbroken,” Pastor Young continues. “I know it feels daunting, but it’s for the best. Like the other virtues, temperance has a darker counterpart rooted in sin—gluttony. It loves indulgence, it loves luxury, and in a world where we’re often told more is better, it’s easy to fall into its trap. Think of today as a chance to pause and reflect, to gain control over your earthly desires and understand what’s truly missing from your life.”
If this was yesterday, I might have leaned over to Julia and whispered, Let me guess, the only thing missing is a relationship with Jesus Christ. We might have laughed and rolled our eyes when Pastor Young confirmed it, but for once, I don’t feel like joking. I’m so lost in my own frustration that I don’t notice someone approach until they sit down on Julia’s other side.
“Hey.”
The last time I’d seen Greer, she’d been actively cursing Mike Fratt’s name into her pillow. Now she looks wide awake, hair falling in smooth waves over her shoulders as she braces both elbows on the table. I wonder what sort of dark witchcraft she’s using to keep that level of shine under the shower’s relentless barrage of hard water. My own hair has started smelling vaguely of sulfur.
“What?” I ask.
Greer ignores me and turns toward Julia instead, lifting a hand to her mouth so the counselors can’t see her lips move. “Okay, so this is going to suck, but they did this during my first retreat, too. Most of the seniors still bring snacks in case they try again, so come back to the cabin during lunch and we’ll figure something out.”
“Really?” Relief breaks across Julia’s face. She glances toward the front of the cafeteria, where her father is now leading everyone in a very dejected-sounding prayer. “Thanks, Greer. I’m so sorry about this.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. There should be plenty to go around, so feel free to tell the rest of your group. And don’t look at me like that,” Greer adds, gaze cutting in my direction. “I’m not trying to poison you.”
I scowl down at the empty table. I wasn’t aware I’d been looking at her in any particular way, but the thought of sitting in the soft, sun-warmed interior of our cabin and splitting snacks with her and Amanda makes my skin crawl. It’s too familiar, too close. Too similar to how things used to be.
“I know,” I say. “You’re not the one I’m worried about.”
“Oh, give it a rest, Riley.” Greer scoffs, the sound so brutal and direct that several heads turn in our direction. “You think Amanda likes sharing a cabin with the girl who hit her in front of the entire senior hallway? You’re not the victim here.”
My hands curl into fists in my lap, knuckles whitening against the dark fabric of my jeans. “Well, I don’t love sharing a cabin with the people who’ve been talking shit about my sister all semester, so I guess we’re even.”
It’s out before I fully register what I’m saying, a toxic, heady cocktail mixed with four months of pent-up frustration. Greer blinks, drawing back in her seat. “What? I’m not—” she starts, but I don’t want to hear the excuse.
I stand so abruptly the bench screeches across the linoleum tile. Up front, Pastor Young’s prayer falters. He shoots me a withering glare, but I ignore him. There’s something hot pushing against my rib cage, clawing for a way out, and Greer’s single throwaway question lights the fuse. What? Like she’s actually asking. Like she’s never stopped to consider the consequences of her actions. Julia reaches for my arm, lips parting like she wants to call me back, but I slide out of her grip. I don’t know why I’m coming apart now, why I can’t hold my own against Greer of all people, but I know if I stay, there’s a very good chance I’ll combust right here at the table. I might take the entire camp with me.