What Would Emma Do? Part 14

"Come to the bathroom with me," said Joann. Suddenly she was on her feet, dragging me behind her. Once we were in the hallway, she turned around and faced me. I was surprised to see she was angry.

"What is the matter with you?" she hissed.

"What are you talking about?"

"All of a sudden you're every loser's personal defense attorney?"

Shocked, I could only stare at Joann.

"Losers?" I asked, and her face flushed.

"I didn't mean losers. I just meant it's a bunch of people we're not even friends with. Ever since this whole thing started, you seem to be on their side."

"There are sides?"

"Of course there are sides. You can think whatever you want, but people have gotten sick. Someone's responsible, and the school did find stuff in Todd's locker."

"You mean like when you got sick? Someone is responsible for that?"

Joann looked down at her shoes. There was no way I was going to believe Joann had pa.s.sed out. She was many things, but a frail, pa.s.sing-out flower type was not one of them.

"If it was just me, that would be one thing, but it's happened to a lot of people."

"Lucky for me, just the popular people."

"You could be popular if you wanted. You always act like you're better than the popular crowd, like you're above the whole thing. There's nothing wrong with wanting to have friends."

"You mean the kind of friends who stick up for you if you're in a fight, for example."

Joann took a step back as if I had struck her.

"Everything happened so fast. Reilly broke it up before I knew what happened."

"Innocent people could get into a lot of trouble if everyone starts blaming other people for no reason," I said, changing the subject.

"Anyone who's innocent will be able to prove it."

"If this town doesn't string them up before they can prove it. You know how it is, things can happen fast."

"People are talking about you, you know."

"Talking about me?" I crossed my arms and leaned back against the lockers. "Oooh, how will I go on if people are talking about me? Oh, the horror."

"Be a smarta.s.s if you want. People are talking about how you never got along with a lot of the popular girls who got sick, how you started hanging out with Todd, how you talk about hating it here. And then there's the fact that you sometimes make fun of G.o.d."

"Make fun of G.o.d? What's the matter, did I hurt his feelings?"

"See, it's flip stuff like that. It makes you look un-Christian. It seems like your personal relationship with Jesus is just a joke."

"How does anyone know what the h.e.l.l my personal relationship with Jesus is like? That's the whole point; it's personal. How is it that people feel comfortable skipping over parts in the Bible like, 'Don't judge others,' but feel more than welcome talking about how well they know the book?"

"Do you even believe?" Joann asked, her voice getting louder.

I gave a sigh. How did this turn into a fight? I didn't even like Dwight, and I didn't know Carla, and all of a sudden my best friend and I were going at it and the guy I did like was ignoring me after I basically lip mauled him in his kitchen. Things were out of control. How I was supposed to know how to answer questions about my faith?

"I don't know," I said softly. The answer surprised me almost as much as Joann.

"What?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore. It's not a sin to have doubts. Do you ever wonder why you believe? Think about it. Religion is an accident of geography. If you had been born in Israel, odds are you would be Jewish. In j.a.pan? Buddist. Iran? Muslim. Don't you ever wonder if everything we've been told really makes sense?" I grabbed her arm. Suddenly I wanted-no, I needed-to talk to Joann. I wanted to lie on her pink bedspread and tell her everything that had been swirling around in my mind. I wanted to have a good cry with my best friend. She yanked her arm back.

"I can't believe you're saying this. Colin and I have been sticking up for you."

"I never asked you to stick up for me, and I sure as h.e.l.l didn't ask Colin to be involved."

"When people started hinting around that you might be involved in all of this too, I told them no way, but now I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

"I'm the same person I've always been. Even if I didn't believe, it would still be okay. Well, except for here in Wheaton."

We stood in the hall facing off, neither of us saying anything.

"Then I guess you should get out of Wheaton."

"Don't be mad," I said.

"I'm not mad."

"Yes, you are, your ears are all red. I've known you forever. Your ears always get red when you're ticked," I pointed out, hoping to make her laugh. Maybe she needed to be reminded that she didn't need more friends, she had me.

"You've known me forever, but I guess the question is, do I want to know you anymore?" Joann spun around and walked back into the cla.s.sroom without saying another word. I wondered how many people in the cla.s.sroom had been listening in. I'm guessing give or take the entire crowd. At this rate it was going to be just a matter of time until Officer Ryan showed up looking for me. I thought about Todd and wondered how he was doing. In some ways I was glad my mom had forbidden me to talk to him. I could only imagine what he would think of someone keeping quiet while other people took the blame. I nibbled on the corner of my thumbnail and remembered how he had pointed out the stars.

The whole thing was falling apart. I needed to talk to Colin. It was time for us to come clean before anyone else got dragged down.

28.

G.o.d, if you're out there and still speaking to me despite the fact that I've admitted to a few doubts, I could use some help. My best friend hates me, my best friend's boyfriend likes me, and the guy I kissed happens to be someone who everyone thinks is a serial killer-and he isn't speaking to me anymore since I ran out on him. I'm pretty sure not speaking is going to put a real cramp in any future relationship we may have. Or are all these things happening because I had some doubts? Is this supposed to drive me back to the fold? I'm thinking a softer approach would work better.

Reverend Evers was in a cleaning lather. There are people with serious cases of OCD who wash their hands until they bleed who are not as clean-focused as the reverend had been lately. He knew the eyes of the world were going to be on Trinity Evangelical, and he was going to do his part to make sure Wheaton didn't let them down. While the world was pondering what a near miss we had of terror in the heartland, he was going to ensure they also noticed our clean and tidy community. He forced the Sheer Beauty salon to get rid of all their tabloid magazines (false idols), and the gas station had taken down the sign they'd had up forever that said GOT GAS? He thought the sign hinted at a fart joke, which he felt was beneath us. Or at least beneath what we wanted people to think we were, like when you clean the house for company and stuff everything in the closet. It is less important to be clean than to have people think that you're clean. When Wheaton hit the TV air-waves, we were going to be a perfect town (or at least give the appearance of perfection), and he was going to be the heart of the whole thing.

Lucky for the good reverend, he had me as his own personal slave labor to a.s.sist with his endless to-do list. I briefly considered telling him the truth, that the whole "terror in the heartland" was really little else than a case of rural girls gone wild. I opened my mouth to tell him, but before I said a word, I knew he wasn't going to listen. He wouldn't believe me, because then there wouldn't be the TV show and it would mean his daughter was a liar. We hadn't grown too close over the past few days, but I was fairly sure this was the kind of news that wouldn't go over well.

If I was going to do this, I had to do it right. My best option would be to convince Colin to go with me to talk to my mom and take it from there. She might not believe me, but she would believe Colin. Maybe he'd had the same realization, which is why he wanted to meet.

I was outside putting a fresh coat of white paint on the church sign. I had been painting only ten minutes and had already managed to get paint on my nose and on my new jeans. I stood there staring at the blotch of white paint on my pants and wondered if there was any way to travel back in time a few seconds and tell myself not to lean on the sign. I touched the sticky paint. If I went into the bathroom and took off my pants, could I wash it out before it dried? Or would that make it worse? Was this one of those things where if you knew the secret laundry trick, it would come right out, but if you didn't, it would set forever and even a jackhammer wouldn't get it off? Maybe I could single-handedly bring back the eighties fashion of paint-splattered jeans. Puff up my hair, play some Duran Duran.

I turned around when I heard a car pull into the church parking lot. It was Colin. He sat in his truck for a few moments before getting out and heading over to me. Colin never walks anywhere. He has this sort of lope. I used to wonder if he had one leg shorter than the other and that's what caused it, but it seems to be just his nature. He doesn't move along as much as he slowly bounces along.

"You're doing it wrong," he said, as he got closer.

"I'm putting paint on the sign. How can it be wrong as long as there is paint?"

"You've got too much paint on the brush. The idea is to do as many coats as you need, but to build the paint up one layer at a time, not slap it up in one thick coat."

"One thick coat is much more efficient." I held the brush out to him. "Want to show me how it's done, Mr. Home and Garden Network? You're so much better at this stuff than me."

He took the brush from me and stepped up to the sign. I sat down on the gra.s.s and took a drink from my water bottle. With my other hand, I brushed the hair out of my eyes. s.h.i.t. Now I had paint in my hair, too. Colin looked down at me and gave a laugh.

"Don't think you're so clever. I know you're just being nice so I'll paint the sign for you," he said.

"Flattery will get a girl everywhere. I'm glad you came by. We need to talk," I said.

"I know. There's something I want to tell you." Colin was concentrating on the sign and not looking at me.

"Why do I have the sense this is bad news?"

"It's not good or bad."

"Okay, hit me."

Colin reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled-up envelope, and tossed it down on the ground next to me. I looked at it.

"I was in the athletic office today. I had to pick up a medical form for my little brother. I saw that on Attley's desk and swiped it."

I unfolded the letter. It was from Northwestern University. They were sending a scout to see me at the next meet. A scout! I scanned the letter. It didn't say if they had settled on an amount for my scholarship, but if they were sending someone out to see me, they must be thinking full ride. They wouldn't bother sending a scout all the way to Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, if all they planned to do was give me a few bucks to cover my books.

I gave a whoop and then did a series of cartwheels across the churchyard, the letter clutched in one hand. I didn't even care that I had paint on my jeans. From this moment forward, whenever I saw the jeans I would remember how I was wearing them the day I got the news. Then it hit me. I wasn't on the track team anymore, and I was planning on sharing information that would make sure I never got back on. I stopped midcartwheel and slumped to the ground.

"You okay?" Colin called out. I sat in the middle of the yard, looking at the letter. The seal of the university was in the corner in thick, dark purple ink. It was raised a bit, and I ran my fingers over it like it was Braille. I walked back to Colin and sat down. He was still painting the sign.

"I'm screwed," I said finally.

"No, you're not. The track meet is Sat.u.r.day morning, and the Faith Forward show isn't being taped until the afternoon. You can go to both."

"This isn't about that stupid show!"

"Easy. I was yanking your chain. Joann told me you're grounded and your mom is making you take a break from the track team. What you need to do is throw yourself on her mercy, and I bet she'll let you run. Attley will let you on the team for sure. You're his star racer."

"That's not my problem." I looked up at him. "Have you heard about Todd and what's happening with the other kids?"

"Yeah. Karp came for Stu Hills in my biology cla.s.s."

"Stu? Boo-Boo Stu?" I asked. Stu had earned the unfortunate nickname due to the fact that he was near terminally clumsy. I used to wonder if he had an inner ear disorder that threw off his balance. Once he walked into a low bookshelf in the library and needed twenty-eight st.i.tches. He fell down stairs, tripped over things like dust, fell off chairs, and generally was a walking disaster waiting to happen. If I got onto a plane and saw Boo-Boo Stu sitting there, I would get off, because that would be the plane whose engine would fall off. He has that kind of luck.

"I don't think they're kicking them out of school, just taking them in for questioning."

"What did you think about Joann pa.s.sing out?"

Colin shrugged.

"It didn't bother you?"

"She felt sick. It's no big deal. She's not saying anyone did anything to her."

"This whole thing is so crazy," I said.

"I know."

"We have to tell somebody what we saw."

"If you tell, there's absolutely no way you can run in the meet on Sat.u.r.day."

I noticed that the "we" had turned into a "you." I felt my stomach tighten up.

"I guess if I told I'd be screwed, huh?"

Colin shrugged and kept painting, not saying a word.

"So you want to keep quiet about the whole thing?" I asked.

"I thought that was your big plan."

"That was before they started dragging people off."

Colin rolled his eyes. "Dragging people off? You're starting to give Darci the drama queen a run for her money."

"Okay, they're not dragging them off, but they're getting into trouble."

"They're getting themselves into trouble."

"What are you talking about?"

"The way I heard it is that they questioned Joe and he was the one who gave them Carla and Dwight's names. Dwight apparently gave them Stu's name."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"My guess is, if you want to get out of trouble you point the finger at someone else."

"I bet Darci started the whole thing."

"Probably."

"This situation is seriously f.u.c.ked up," I offered.