Chapter Twenty-Two
I nearly trip down the front steps after Sunshine Saints, rushing to meet my dad so we can leave.
But the car isn’t idling outside the youth ministry building.
Across the driveway, Dad is chatting with some of the other members in front of the main building.
They’re departing from the sunrise service.
A woman breaks away from the group and walks over to me. I can’t remember her name, but I recognize her as one of the Sunshine Saint’s parents. She always dresses in bright florals. Today, she’s wearing a blue-and-orange maxi dress that screams, Summer isn’t over yet.
“Good morning, Clarity. How are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?” I ask, stepping aside so she can head up to the building.
“I’m good, and God is great,” she tells me, her smile honey-sweet. “You’re in for a good sermon today. Bishop was on point this morning.”
“Great, thank you… for the heads up,” I say, a little awkward. I’m grateful when she ducks into the building.
I’m not going to stay for the main service.
I haven’t exactly prayed in a while. In the fallout at camp, everything I spewed to Mrs. Patricia was a weave of truths and lies.
I walked away unscathed, and at the time, that was all that mattered.
If I pray about what happened, ask God for forgiveness and guidance, I don’t know what I’ll do if He guides me away from Hannah, away from what I spent most of camp being drawn to.
I prayed at camp, and getting closer to Hannah felt right, like God put her in my path for a reason.
Then everything changed, and I’m not ready to confront the possibility that Yasmin and Jameson are right, that I’m wrong, and that my relationship with God changed too.
Dad waves me over, and I have no choice but to oblige. I greet members who recognize me and shake hands with a few deacons before they leave.
“Good service?” he asks.
I start to turn, hoping that we’re finally going to walk to the car. When he doesn’t move to do the same, I say, “Yes. Ready to go?”
“You don’t want to stay for the main service? Mom will be here soon; we could all go together.”
I don’t want to sit through another sermon, one potentially calling me a sinner, and watch my parents nod along in agreement. I don’t want to risk running into Mrs. Patricia, or Jameson, or Yasmin.
“I… I’m still a bit tired after yesterday,” I reason, “and I figure I can study the scripture we reviewed in Sunshine Saints at home.”
“When I get home, you can tell me all about it then,” Dad says, not missing a beat. He pulls his car keys out of his pocket, swings the loop around his finger, and hands them to me. “I’ll get a ride home with Mom.”
I’m shocked. Even though I have my license, I rarely get to drive myself.
“Yes, sir,” I say, giving him a hug. “Thank you!”
“If you want, you can drive to the workshop tomorrow too.”
I pause, pulling apart and looking up at him. “What workshop?”
“The College Essay Workshop. Your mom signed you up for it a while ago.”
“A while ago…” I repeat, racking my brain.
“Tomorrow at six o’clock you have an essay workshop here, in the main building.
It’s okay if you don’t have much prepared, the volunteers will be able to help you.
And who knows, maybe you can compare notes with your friends,” Dad says, smiling.
“Anyway, I figure since I’ll be off, you can take the car and drive yourself. ”
Dad goes back into the church and I walk to the car in a bit of a daze. I completely forgot about the workshop.
Jameson and Yasmin will be there, I’m sure.
Despite all my artful dodging, I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid them forever.
I just hoped I’d have a little more time, or that I could avoid them until I left for college and perhaps run into them over a year from now when the Incident is long behind us.
But no. Lucky me, I get to drive myself into the lion’s den.
MAURICE: Hav u heard of a place called Lulu’s?
CLARITY: Yeah, it’s rly good froyo.
MAURICE: Wanna go with me?
CLARITY: When?
MAURICE: In 20 minutes?
CLARITY: Sry, can’t. Have a church thing 2nite.
MAURICE: All good. Hav fun!
I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I could hang out with Maurice tonight. Instead, I’m hiding in my dad’s car at the back of the church parking lot, contemplating my chances of skipping the essay workshop and getting away with it.
The evening sun casts a golden glow over the church campus, stretching long shadows across the grass and the gravel parking lot.
Yasmin’s car is in the closest spot not reserved for accessible parking.
She probably got here first, likely fifteen minutes early so that she could help set up.
And she probably did it just because, not to get a leg up in front of administrators for the church scholarships.
She can be nice like that… just not to me anymore.
I glance at the clock. Five minutes until the workshop starts.
At the beginning of camp, Yasmin and I often found excuses to be paired together for group activities.
One afternoon, we decided to gather the little kids for a game of capture the flag in hopes they’d go right to sleep at bedtime.
A couple other counselors brought their groups and we divided into girls versus boys.
Yasmin and I led the girls while Jameson and another guy counselor were in charge of the boys.
I remember the way Yasmin threw her arms around me in a sweaty hug when we won, and the way Jameson’s eyes lit up when he smiled at me.
“You only won because you were sneaky,” Jameson accused us later when we were catching our breath on the steps to the mess hall, enjoying a secret stash of Italian ice just for counselors.
“Sneaky or just smarter than you?” Yasmin laughed, nudging him with her shoulder.
“And you,” Jameson said, turning his attention to me.
We locked eyes, and whatever had been building behind his tone faded for a moment.
His smile softened, and I wondered if maybe he did see me as more than just a friend, after all these years.
“The way you just snatched the flag and took off? I thought you said you aren’t athletic. ”
“I’m not,” I said, blushing a little. “But I can whip out a sprint when necessary.”
Jameson shook his head, still smiling, his eyes glistening like honey in the afternoon sun. I glanced away.
Hannah and I had already had our first kiss by then. I wasn’t interested in Jameson the way I used to be. His comment made me think about Hannah, how I wished she could’ve seen me sprint across the field with the flag. She was leading a yoga class for some of the older campers.
Now, she’s at home, doing her homework and probably waiting for me to text with an ETA for our FaceTime tonight. Honestly, the thought of our nightly chat makes my stomach twist.
Ever since our fight about Rowena, I’ve been wondering if our relationship is worth the trouble I put us through. Is it more work than a relationship should be?
She made a fair point, that being in a relationship and not being allowed to talk to anyone about it is hard, maybe even unrealistic. I thought keeping us apart was unfair, but what if being together like this is equally so?
As I head inside, I see volunteers and students mingling, gathering snacks, paper, and pens before finding their seats.
I scan the room for an open table, hopefully toward the back where I can fold myself into a corner.
But my eyes land on Jameson and Yasmin sitting together near the front.
They’re bent toward each other in conversation.
Yasmin’s back is to me and all I can read between them is the smile that spreads across Jameson’s face at whatever she said, followed by a quiet laugh.
I know that laugh. It’s conspiratorial, a laugh that makes you feel like you’re funny like a stand-up comedian and wraps you in the warm intimacy of sharing an inside joke. I used to be on the inside.
Jameson’s eyes meet mine. The way his attention stops me cold makes me realize I’ve already started across the room toward them, as if muscle memory was guiding me to my usual seat next to Yasmin.
But then Yasmin turns around to see what stopped Jameson’s laugh, only to find me.
She utters a mix between a groan and a huff before turning back around.
I guess ignoring me is better than one of her snide rejections.
I scramble to find an empty seat far away from them, but as I look around the room, I notice a few other seniors who went to Camp Refuge. Breathless, I take the first seat I can get to, one that’s unfortunately close to Jameson and Yasmin’s table.
They know my secret. I was dreading seeing my old friends so much I didn’t even consider that there would be other people here from camp. At least I’m at a table with two other kids I don’t know.
Everyone quiets down when the workshop leader steps to the front of the room.
“Welcome to the College Essay Workshop. My name is Ms. Kiesha. I’m a high school guidance counselor and this is my fifth year leading the essay-writing workshop. I and my lovely team of volunteers are here to help you.
“I know the college application process might seem daunting, but trust me, you’re more prepared for this than you think.
” She pauses, taking the time to lock eyes around the room, sharing a kind smile.
“Writing a compelling essay means telling a story about yourself in a way that will show admissions who you are beyond your grades and your test scores.”
Ms. Kiesha goes on about the components of a compelling essay and writes this year’s Common App prompt on the board: What’s a meaningful experience that has shaped you?