What Would Emma Do? (2 page)

Recent events, combined with years of religious study, have clarified for me that at the ripe age of seventeen, I am pretty much already damned to hell. Let’s recap:

The Seven Deadly Sins

• Gluttony: I have, on more than one occasion, eaten the entire gut-buster ice-cream sundae at the Dairy Hut that you get for free if you can finish it. What can I say? I run a lot; I get hungry.
  
• Greed: I have a passion for my running shoe collection that others might reserve for the members of a boy band. It’s not just fashion; it’s also about function.
  
• Sloth: Every time my mom sees the state of my room, she is compelled to say, “If you’re waiting for the maid to come along, you’ve got a long wait ahead of you.” Then she sighs deeply, like being my mother is her burden in life.
  
• Wrath: I detest Darci Evers, and if I had the opportunity it is quite likely I would replace her shampoo with Nair.
  
• Envy: I would give just about anything, including possibly my soul, to run like Sherone Simpson (ranked number one in the world for the hundred meters).
  
• Pride: I won the state championship last year for hurdles and plan to repeat this year. I’ve been accepted to Northwestern, and if I can nail down a track scholarship, I’ve even got a way to pay for it and a way out of town.
  
• Lust: I kissed my best friend’s boyfriend over Christmas break.
  

Yep, it’s pretty much the last one that’s going to do me in.

2

God, I know you’re busy, and to be honest, what with famine, pestilence, and war I feel a bit bad about bugging you in the past over silly things like getting breasts (although—hey, it’s never too late), but the situation with Joann is really bugging me. Is there any way you could remind her that we’re best friends? A small vision, perhaps? I really am sorry for what happened with Colin. Think of the benefits: If we were close again, I wouldn’t need to come to you with the small things, I could sort them out with her. Consider it less like granting a prayer and more like a time-saving device for yourself.

There is no greater sin than kissing your best friend’s boyfriend. It’s such an obvious screwup it didn’t even make the Ten Commandments. God figured he shouldn’t even have to make a note of that one.

I’ve known Colin since I was two, which is long before he started dating Joann. Not that I’m trying to offer that up as an excuse, more of an explanation. After my parents divorced, my mom (for reasons that have never been clear to me) moved us from Chicago (a perfectly good city without a single silo, which is more than I can say for Wheaton) to live near her parents, my grandparents. Colin’s family farm is right next to my grandparents. We grew up together with everyone making smoochy kissy noises around us with elaborate winks and nudges. His dad and my grandpa would always joke about how the fence between their two farms could come down with no trouble at all. Then there’s the humiliating childhood photo that gets pulled out every so often, of the two of us around age five sharing a bath. It was expected that we would become a couple, which pretty much guaranteed it was the last thing that either of us would ever want. In a small town like Wheaton, it is an accepted fact that getting married is the high point of your life. Big church wedding with big hair and a big bouquet and then a bad buffet at the Veterans’ Hall. Shoot me.

Even though I never planned to date Colin, I always liked him. I don’t mean
like him
like him. Just regular like. He’s a good guy. He doesn’t mind renting chick flicks, and he introduced me to the Matrix movies (which despite having Keanu Reeves are pretty good). He’s into football, but if I ask, he’ll watch me run on the track, and he’ll scream out my times as I fly by. Since I’ve known him forever, I can tell him stuff without feeling like I’m talking to a guy. He’ll tell you the truth about how you look in stuff (like if your jeans make your ass a mile wide). Colin even asked me what I thought about him asking Joann out this past summer before he did it. I did the emotional reconnaissance for him, so he knew she would say yes. I was glad they hit it off. Honest.

It was my idea to drive into Fort Wayne and go to the mall at Christmas. Wheaton is so lame we don’t have a mall. There is one clothing store in town, the Hitching Post. All their clothing smells like old people and has an elastic waist. Wheaton is not exactly fashion central. Colin was trying to figure out what to get Joann for Christmas. They had been dating since July, and this was their first major “couple” holiday, which put on the pressure for gift giving. The Hitching Post was not going to cut it. A trip to a real shopping destination was required, and who better to help him with the gift selection than his girlfriend’s best friend?

The mall was insanely busy. They had decorated with huge garlands covered with ornaments the size of border collies strung between the stores, and there was a giant winter wonderland in the center. A single loop of Christmas songs kept repeating over and over. Every time you walked into a store, one of the clerks would yell, “Season’s greetings!” in this frantic voice like they’d had one too many rounds of eggnog. Colin was starting to drag, and I could see he was ready to buy something and leave. I gestured to the Gap up ahead and started to lead Colin into the store.

“Let’s go sit on Santa’s lap instead,” Colin said, pulling me down the slick white floor.

“Santa? Don’t you think we’re a bit old?”

“You’re never too old for Santa.”

Colin was practically racing down the hall. We stood in line for Santa with all the little kids. The kid in front of us had his finger jammed up his nose and watched us warily while doing his nasal drilling. I tried to ignore him.

“What are you leaning toward getting Joann?”

“I can’t decide. What do you think of the sweater?”

“She’d like it.”

Colin sighed.

“What? She would. She looks nice in green,” I offered.

“There must be something that she’d really like. A sweater seems boring. I mean, I got my mom a sweater.”

“Well, don’t get Joann the same one. That’s creepy.”

“Thanks, Freud,” Colin grumped, and then pushed me forward. Santa could see me now.

I sat down slowly on Santa’s lap. The last thing I needed to do was hurt the old guy. Up close he didn’t look that old. Nor were his eyes very twinkly. However, he was built for the part: His belly had definite jellylike status. I think sitting on Santa’s lap used to be better when I was a kid, or else I was too young to notice the ick factor back then.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Santa asked with what looked an awful lot like a leer to me.

“Santa?” Colin asked, his voice low and serious. Santa and I both turned to face Colin, who was standing next to the elf photographer. “Santa, why have you taken Christ out of Christmas?”

I burst out laughing just as the camera flashed. I thanked Santa for his time and chased after Colin, who was dancing near the printer, waiting for the photo. When it came out, it was worse than I expected. My mouth was wide-open, midlaugh, and my eyes were squeezed shut. Santa looked confused and annoyed. I gave Colin a shove. The elf assistant gave us a look, and I noticed that Santa was getting up to take a break. I’m guessing minimum wage was not cutting it to put up with people like Colin and me.

“Must you torture Santa?” I asked. Colin grabbed the photo and paid for it.

“Christmas is more than shiny paper and Rudolph. I would hope as a student—no, an ambassador—of TES, you would know that. Have you forgotten the real reason for the season? Has Satan won you with nothing more than a shiny jingle bell and some cookies?” Colin asked in a solemn voice before his face cracked into a smile.

“Lemme see the picture again.” I took it out of his hands. “I look like someone who wanders around with tin-foil on her head.”

“No, you don’t. You look good.” He took the picture back.

“Good? My mouth is hanging open, and see that shiny bit there? I think that’s drool. I drooled on Santa.”

“You never like your pictures. It’s nice.”

“You’re a freak. Tear it up.”

“I’m not tearing it up, I paid for it.”

“Just because you were dumb enough to pay for it doesn’t mean I want a picture of me like that hanging around.” I reached for the photo, and Colin held it above his head. He’s annoyingly tall, so I was reduced to jumping up and down trying to snatch it from him.

We were laughing, and Colin kept yanking the picture just out of my grasp. I leaned in to try and take it. Suddenly our faces were inches apart, and then he kissed me.

Or I kissed him.

It’s possible we met in the middle. The picture fell out of his hand and drifted down to the floor like an autumn leaf. We just stood there, looking at each other.

I think if things had been different, we might have walked away and acted like it never happened. The whole thing was weird, some kind of space-time vortex, like on sci-fi shows when the screens gets all wavy and wiggly to indicate reality isn’t what it used to be. I really think we would have just left, gone to get the sweater for Joann, and maybe stopped at the food court for a burger. However, that isn’t what happened, because right behind us, with a front-row seat for the kiss, was Joann’s mom.

3

God, one of the things I wonder about is why you seem to like some things better than others. For example, you make some people beautiful and some people look like a bad Mr. Potato Head practical joke. It would be one thing if the ugly people got to be smarter than the good-looking people, or luckier, but it doesn’t always work that way. In fact, a lot of the time it seems pretty random. It’s not just people—it’s towns, too. Why is it places like Paris and New York have all the great nightlife spots, museums, and fancy bridges or buildings, and the only charm Wheaton has to offer is fireplugs painted like cartoon characters? Or if there must be places that have no redeeming features, why do I have to live in one of them? I know life isn’t fair, but really, is it asking too much that you be?

How you know you live in a small town:

1. Someone writes a letter to you and puts only your name on the envelope and the mailman still knows
   exactly
   where to deliver it, even without the address.
   
2. The tallest buildings in town are the grain silo and the church steeple.
   
3. Everyone knows everyone else, also everyone else’s parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Most likely everyone’s great-great-grandparents sat next to each other on the Mayflower.
   
4. If in third grade you once laughed while taking a drink of milk and it sprayed out of your nose, everyone remembers this, and someone has a picture.
   
5. It is completely normal to play in the middle of the street as a kid, because traffic is a freakish event. As a small kid, you may take years to learn to look both ways when crossing the street, because you had no idea it was a needed skill.
   
6. Your town has no major retail outlets, no Gap, no Abercrombie, no Claire’s, no McDonald’s, no Dairy Queen, no nothing. If a Wal-Mart moves in a couple towns over, this event is greeted with nearly as much excitement as the Rapture.
   
7. Going anywhere that has more than four traffic lights is called “going to the city.”
   
8. If you wear something other than jeans, people around town will ask why you are getting “all dressed up.”
   
9. The town has a cheesy catchphrase like “Welcome to Wheaton…the heart of Indiana.” They’re so proud of this they post it on a sign coming into town, like a warning to outsiders not to get off the highway.
   
10. Even if you travel an hour away from your small town and do something really foul, like accidentally kiss your best friend’s boyfriend, someone who knows you will see.
    

Colin and I didn’t talk much on the ride home. We sat in his truck, the vinyl seats freezing cold. His truck was a hand-me-down from his brother, and the radio got only the AM stations, so we listened to talk radio. I was hoping for better advice than “Go do the right thing!” That boat had already sailed.

I’m guessing that Joann’s mom broke the sound barrier racing home. By the time Colin dropped me off, Joann already wasn’t speaking to me. Over the Christmas break Colin convinced her it was a weird once-in-a-lifetime freak accident—a case of lip hit-and-run. He and I never talk about it. Although to be fair, we never really talk about anything anymore; we more or less avoid each other. Colin and Joann stayed together, and officially Joann and I made up, but you can’t be friends with someone since first grade and not know she’s still a bit pissed at you. Can’t say I blame her.

4

God, is it possible that you created certain people just to test me? Or is it possible the entire reason I exist is to annoy others? It seems to come easy to me sometimes, like it was destiny.

The cafeteria at TES is decorated with posters made by the Spirit Squad! (exclamation point required). TES doesn’t have cheerleaders. The school’s parent advisory board determined years ago that cheerleading is too sinful. Those short skirts, jumping around, dancing and thrusting to music—the devil’s work for certain. Darci, who was clearly destined from birth to be the type of girl who would have school-color-coordinated ribbons tied in her hair and an overly perky personality, needed to find a way around the cheerleading ban. She came up with the idea of the Spirit Squad (!) whose job it is to promote school spirit and the Holy Spirit all in one go. The Spirit Squad (!) makes motivational posters for the halls: “Jesus loves those who love others!” or “TES: The Best!” in annoyingly bright poster paint colors.

At the other end of the cafeteria from the “Go Crusaders!” banner is a giant floor-to-ceiling poster of Jesus. He’s got his arms out like he wants to give you a hug—or maybe he’s shrugging. I’ve always felt bad for him trapped in here where there’s a distinct smell of old dishrags and sauerkraut. One of the cafeteria ladies is German and believes that any meal is improved with the addition of fermented cabbage. If I were the Son of God, I would not plan any Second Coming until the sauerkraut issue was dealt with. I bring my lunch.