“Sounds like you’re a mystic,” he said.
I thought he was making fun of me, but he shook his head. “No, really. Many Quakers believe in mysticism.”
“Mysticism?”
He thought a moment. “I guess it comes down to a direct encounter of God. Union with the Divine.”
I still didn’t understand. “Does this have something to do with the lights?”
“It’s different for everyone. Some Friends hear God. Others are so overcome they actually quake. My grandfather did, pretty dramatic at times, made you think he was having a seizure. That’s where the term ‘Quaker’ came from. It was originally a form of ridicule—those damned ‘quakers’—but we adopted it as a badge of honor. And a lot of mystical experience involves light. What you’re describing sounds like a vision of God.”
“Does everyone have these? Do you? Maybe not the lights but something like that?”
He pressed his lips tight. “No. Not everyone does.”
None of this was going like I wanted. I’d been hoping he’d say, “Oh, that light stuff. It happens all the time,” kind of bored, like it was so common why would anyone bother to mention it? I didn’t want to be some mystic. Wasn’t I enough of a freak already?
The last time I attended meeting, we were more than halfway through and it had been quiet. No lights. Nothing. Just some coughing and shifting around, a little more than normal. I thought it might be one of those meetings that never really gels, pleasant enough but time just ticks away one second after another, and we’re all just counting down until we’re done.
Then—though the windows held nothing but gray—a bright beam hit me, like clouds parting and God shining down. My legs started jigging, and my eyes quivered in their sockets. My hands lifted, lighting up the place. But none of that was even me anymore. I’d swear my skin had vaporized, that I was nothing but dancing atoms. Still, something of me was left, because when words pressed hard into my mouth, I decided no way was I going to let them out. I was still hoping no one had seen. Even if some Friends did quake like Mr. Balch said, I wasn’t Quaker, and I hadn’t ever seen them do it. I didn’t want them thinking I was a freak. Or worse, that I was mocking them.
I didn’t go back after that. I convinced myself everyone disapproved of me. Which is sad when you think about it, because if those Friends did disapprove of something, which I’m betting they didn’t, it was about me not going back.
48
Before the holidays, Evangeline rarely thought about Daniel’s old girlfriend, Samantha. They existed in vastly different realms. Sammy moved through the halls with her flashing blond hair, boys stopping in midstep as though tasered. When they crossed paths, Sammy’s eyes swept through Evangeline as if she wasn’t there. But when school started in January, the girl was staring at Evangeline every time she glanced up. Evangeline had thought her baby bump was well hidden, but apparently not, because it wasn’t her face Sammy was staring at.
The second week of January, as Evangeline carried her tray across the lunchroom, Sammy and her gaggle of friends stopped eating to stare disgustedly at her belly. Evangeline glared right back. They put on blank expressions and turned back to their food. But over the next week, the girls got bolder, muttering “fat cow” or mooing when they crossed paths. Jason Brewster, Sammy’s new boyfriend, rammed right into Evangeline during one of the rushes between classes, knocked her back a step. He smirked at her swollen middle and said, “Hope I didn’t hurt the killer’s baby.”
Evangeline asked Natalia, “Is he saying I’m the killer, like they blamed Rebekah? Or is he talking about the father?”
“I’m guessing he means the father,” Natalia said. “Amanda Bryant—you know, the one who wears those weird jumpsuits—she’s started telling everyone she saw you in the park the week before the murders.”
“And she’s only saying that now?”
Natalia took another bite of salad. “The pregnancy does add a new level of intrigue.”
“But wasn’t everyone looking for connections to the boys? If she saw me with Jonah—”
Natalia’s eyes shot up. “Who said anything about seeing you with Jonah?”
* * *
—
MASIE AND JILLIAN STARTED EATING AT ANOTHER TABLE, but Natalia stuck around. She had known about the pregnancy since right after Christmas. Evangeline had stayed overnight at her house. They’d ordered in pizza and watched The Princess Bride with Sophie, who kept laughing and shouting, “My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!” and “Inconceivable!”
Later they were lying on their backs on Natalia’s big bed, talking the usual trash about kids at school. Natalia rolled onto her side, reached over, and placed her hand on Evangeline’s belly.
“Yeah. I’m pregnant all right,” Evangeline said.
Natalia scooted closer, laid her head where her hand had been.
“Hear anything?” Evangeline asked.
“Some gurgling. Do you think it could be the baby?”
“Could be. I feel it moving around in there sometimes.”
“Now?”
“Not now.”
Natalia flopped back, stared at the ceiling. “I know it probably sucks,” she said, “but it’s kind of awesome too, don’t you think?”
Then it was Evangeline’s turn to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah,” she said. “It sucks and it’s awesome. That pretty much sums it up.”
Natalia patted her own stomach as if she too might be pregnant. “What about the dad? What does he think?”
Evangeline turned to face her. “He doesn’t know, and he never will. And don’t go thinking I’m saying it was Jonah or Daniel, because I’m not.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t ask me, all right?”
“But—”
“Don’t even.”
It took everything in Natalia to stop. Evangeline could see that. But she did. She managed to keep her mouth shut a few minutes before saying quietly, “Maybe you’ll tell me later?”
Evangeline laughed. “Yeah. Maybe someday I will.”
* * *
—
EACH TIME NATALIA SET HER TRAY BESIDE EVANGELINE’S, she’d lean over and whisper, “Don’t worry about dumbshits,” and Evangeline knew she was talking about not only Jillian and Masie and Sammy’s nasty clique but the entire world. When Natalia finally broke down and asked her straight out if it was true about her and the boys, Evangeline muttered, “It might as well be.”
Natalia brushed a lock of hair off Evangeline’s cheek. “Yeah, might as well be,” she said.
Evangeline knew she understood and loved her for leaving it at that.
* * *
—
ON THE THIRD TUESDAY IN JANUARY, Evangeline went to Natalia’s house after school to study for a chemistry test. When she arrived home at seven, the house was dark, and a chill gripped her spine. She half thought she’d find the place emptied out, another adult having left her behind. But when she flipped on the lights, she saw the note from Isaac. He was at his clearness committee. She’d forgotten about that.