Sparks Page 4

  “Which one?”

  “Ryan Hart,” she said slowly, as if the words felt funny in her mouth. “You know him?”

  Ryan was one of the thirty or so people who showed up at an ACTs event once in a while, adding to the dozen or so who showed up for every meeting and event, like Lisa and me. I think he floated back and forth between ACTs and the Fellowship of Christian athletes.

  “Sure,” I said. “He’s pretty nice.”

  “I used to think he was, too,” Angela said. “So I started following him around. After a while I got the idea that even if we actually started going out, he’d trade me for football tickets in a heartbeat, so I got over him and moved on to another guy. But my parents were so pumped that I was going to ACTs that I just can’t bring myself to quit.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  She took another few puffs, then said, “I have to get back to class. You coming?”

  “Next period,” I said. “I’m gonna sit the rest of this one out.”

  “Cool,” she said. “Seriously, though, come by the Santonis’ tonight if you want. I’ll text you the address. I’ll be there at seven, and the kids are in bed by nine”

  “I’ll try,” I said. “I may need to just go nuts tonight.”

  “I’ll make sure there’s something to drink,” she said with a smile. “And I’ll try get something better to smoke.”

  I wasn’t sure I was ready for drinking and drugs or whatever, but if talking to Lisa didn’t work out—and I was bracing myself that it almost definitely wouldn’t—I’d be up for anything. I’d probably need something strong. But I was glad I at least had somewhere to go, someone to see. That was a relief.

  Before Angela left, she turned back to me. “Hey, do you know Emma Wolf?” she asked.

  “That’s the girl who was in the bathroom with us this morning, right?”

  “Yeah. If she talks to you again, let her talk.”

  “Why? So she can tell me about her cult or whatever?”

  “It’s not exactly a cult, from what I understand,” said Angela. “She and that Tim guy have this made-up religion or something, but I don’t think they sacrifice virgins to the devil or pray to Elvis or anything. If you’re looking to go nuts, she can probably help you better than I can.”

  “Okay.”

  She ground her cigarette out against the wall, tossed the butt in the trash, and left, leaving me by myself again. I shouldn’t say I was feeling better, because I wasn’t, but I think I’d about cried myself out, at least for the moment. I wouldn’t have to see Lisa or Norman again for a few hours, at least. I could try to put them out of my mind and just worry about the future.

  Things were going to be different, no matter what.

  People in ACTs tended to make a big deal about being “born again.” After the meetings, when I got home and there was no one around to read my mind, I’d think it was all stupid. I’d gotten birth right on the first attempt.

  Then again, my mom had been doing all the work when I was born, and she doesn’t get much right the first time. Maybe I really did need to do it all over again. I decided that when I got around to emerging from the depths of the restroom, I was going to be emerging as a whole different person, like the stall had been a second womb.

  I looked down at the cigarette I was still holding—it had burned most of the way down now, and there was a long stream of ash hanging on for dear life on the end of it, which looked kind of cool.

  I put the cigarette out on the floor and made sure it was really, really out so I could throw it in the trash without setting a fire, then walked back into the stall. I sat back down on the toilet for a minute so that if anyone from the faculty came in, I could make it look like the cigarette hadn’t been mine. I didn’t want to get detention or anything.

  Then it hit me. Detention! I didn’t want to spend the afternoon alone, and I was going to need some new friends anyway. Every time someone on TV gets detention, they make new friends there.

  I’d never had a detention in my life.

  But that was old Debbie.

  I wasn’t the old Debbie anymore, the one who was just a recurring character on The Wonderful World of Lisa. That Debbie got flushed.

  Even if I ended up getting Lisa to say “yes” and we became an actual couple, I was going to be a co-star, not a sidekick.

  This would be my first day as a new person.

  If someone on Full House wanted to get baptized, but the family couldn’t get to the church or wherever because they were locked in some sort of big public restroom for some reason, they’d roll up their sleeves, get everyone else together, and give the person the best darned baptism the town had ever seen, right there in the bathroom.

  I’d already symbolically flushed myself away and burned myself up. Now I walked to the sink, splashed water on my face, and gave myself the best darned baptism I’d ever had.

  Five

  People in ACTs liked to say that the whole world changes for you when you “get saved.”

  I’m not sure how any of the people in ACTs knew this, exactly, since I think they’d all been born into their religion, but I could sort of see what they meant when I stepped out of the bathroom.

  The hall seemed different to me than it had before. The people didn’t seem so strange or intimidating. I felt … calm, in a way. Or detached, I guess. I don’t know. Anyway, I felt a bit different, which is what I needed to feel most.

  Fifth period—gym—wasn’t the best place to try to get detention. People acted up in there all the time, and Mr. Ward never did anything. I made an excuse about having a headache and spent the whole class sitting in the bleachers.

  But Mrs. Goldfarb, my sixth period teacher, was an easier target. She wasn’t exactly a strict disciplinarian, but she wasn’t hard to shock, either. When they started up the thing with uniforms, she and Mrs. Smollet, the guidance counselor, lobbied hard for it to require girls to wear dresses. She was that sort of teacher.

  I found my way into her class way before the late bell rang, sat down, and put my feet up on my desk, which was strictly against the rules. Goldfarb didn’t seem to mind too much when guys put their legs up, but she thought it was “unladylike” for girls.

  When she saw me, she sort of glared at me, then pointed down at the ground, to indicate that I should put my legs back below the desk, but I ignored her, hoping to egg her on.

  Mrs. Goldfarb walked over to me. “Debbie!” she whispered. “Putting your legs in that position is not entirely modest.”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  She stared at me for a second. “This isn’t like you at all, Debbie,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. And she shrugged her shoulders and just walked back to her own desk.

  Great. My first attempt at acting up, and I was getting away with it!

  Eventually I did put my legs down, because besides being “not entirely modest,” it was also not entirely comfortable.

  I spent most of the rest of class trying to get my nerve up to try getting in trouble again. A few times I raised my hand for just a second, then chickened out and put it back down. Finally, with ten minutes left to go in class, I put my hand in the air and kept it there.

  “Yes, Debbie?” Mrs. Goldfarb asked, pointing at me.

  I froze for a second, then summoned all the courage I could fake and opened my mouth.

  “I have to take a piss,” I said.

  A bunch of people snickered. Mrs. Goldfarb looked totally shocked.

  “Debbie!” she said. “What did you just say?”

  I blushed, and built up my nerve again.

  “I said I have to take a damn piss!” I said.

  Now everyone really cracked up. I blushed more, since I imagined that they were all picturing me doing what I said I had to do. />
  “Debbie, come here!” said Mrs. Goldfarb. I got up and walked over to her desk, careful not to look anyone in the eye.

  “What’s gotten into you today?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said with a shrug. “I just have to piss.”

  “You know that I don’t tolerate that sort of language in class,” she said. “Especially out of young ladies such as yourself. It’s entirely inappropriate.”

  “That’s totally unfair,” I said. “If it’s okay for guys, then it should be okay for girls, too.”

  “I didn’t say it was okay for guys,” she said. “I’m going to let it slide this time, but please be more prudent in the future.”

  “All right,” I said.

  I almost added “You fat old wrinkled pumpkin-head,” but I couldn’t quite build up the nerve to go that far.

  Man, this was going to be harder than I thought. Apparently going through almost three years of high school without causing any trouble gives you a sort of buffer zone that’s hard to break through when you need a detention.

  When the bell rang, everyone else jumped up and ran out of class to start up their spring break. I hadn’t thought of anything else that would get me into trouble with Mrs. Goldfarb that I had the guts to do. And now the day was over. I’d failed.

  But as I walked through the hall with the crowd of happy people, past the bathroom where I’d had my symbolic rebirth, it suddenly occurred to me that they probably didn’t give you tickets to get into detention or anything. If I just showed up, uninvited, I could say that I was supposed to be there, and they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. They’d probably let me in.

  So I turned right around and walked my way down to room 320—the detention room—and stepped inside.

  I’d never seen the inside of that room before; for all I knew, the people inside might all be wearing leather jackets or tight mini-skirts and fishnets. Honestly, that’s sort of what I was expecting.

  But the detention room was just a regular classroom, the one they’d used for study hall back when there was such a thing as study hall. And not one of the six kids inside looked like a greaser or a prostitute or anything—except maybe Hairy Nate, who was sitting at one of the desks picking at his fingernails. He sort of leered at me when I came in.

  Emma Wolf—the weird girl who’d been in the bathroom with Angela, knew about my feelings for Lisa, and tried to sell me a new religion for five bucks—was there, along with Tim, the gay guy she’d been sitting with at lunch. The only other three people in the room were two Outdoor Kids and a goth.

  Emma was busily scribbling in a notebook. Tim sat next to her, wearing a shirt that said Reebok in iron-on letters. The first week we were allowed to iron on letters, a few kids tried writing the names of brands or singers on their shirts, but they mostly ended up feeling stupid. Tim’s was the first I’d seen in months that just said a brand name. Maybe it was supposed to be ironic or something.

  I didn’t really want to hear about their religion, but I sat down directly in front of Emma. Angela had vouched for her, after all. I could at least give her a chance.

  At the head of the room sat a bald teacher I didn’t recognize. When I sat down, he looked at me and said, “Name?”

  “Debbie Woodlawn,” I said.

  “And who sent you here?”

  “Mrs. Goldfarb,” I said.

  “First-time offender?”

  I nodded.

  The bald-headed teacher said, “You will be here until three p.m. exactly, and until then there is to be no talking, only quiet study and reflection on your behavior and ways in which you can improve. If you are sent here three times, you will be assigned a session with a guidance counselor. Any questions?”

  “Nope.”

  He nodded, and I made myself as comfortable as I could at the desk. A few seconds later, I felt a tap on my shoulder, turned around, and Emma passed a note up to me.

  Do you feel lost? Confused? Alone?

  Circle One: Yes or No.

  I would have ignored it normally, but I wasn’t there to ignore people.

  I circled “yes” and passed it back to her.

  I heard her scribble some more, then she passed up another note.

  The Church of Blue can help you. We are not a cult—don’t worry. Nothing all that weird. Five dollars for a holy quest is a good deal.

  Trust me.

  Giving someone five bucks to tell me about their religion was the dumbest idea I’d ever heard. People who want to be your friends don’t ask you for money up front, normally, unless it’s a sorority or whatever.

  But right about then, I was desperate. Anything that might keep me from having to spend the rest of the day alone, killing time until Norman and Lisa’s date, was worth a shot. I’d chicken out for sure if I didn’t have anyone to cheer me on.

  There was a problem, though. I didn’t have a dime in my pocket, let alone five bucks.

  So I wrote her a note of my own.

  I’ll give you five bucks. But I don’t have any cash—do you have five bucks I can borrow?

  I heard Emma chuckle triumphantly when I passed it back to her, and a second later she passed me a five dollar bill, which I passed right back to her.

  Tim started humming “Ode to Joy.”

  Emma scribbled for a second, then passed me another note.

  Meet me after detention, and you will learn the secrets of the Church of Blue and begin a holy quest.

  I wrote another one back.

  Okay. I’m in the mood for a crazy scheme, as long as I end up at the movie theater tonight. I need to talk to Lisa.

  She took the note and passed me another a second later.

  Praise be to you Kimmy Gibbler, Patron Saint of wacky neighbors and crazy schemes.

  1, 2, 3, 4 …

  Six

  Okay. Deep breath.

  Obviously, she had just heard about the Full House thing from Angela, right? She couldn’t really read my mind. No one could, and no religion gave you magic powers. I mean, even the Wiccan kids couldn’t do that sort of stuff, and they weren’t just making their religion up on their own.

  Right?

  But Emma already knew my biggest secret. The worst thing she could find out by reading my mind now was that I thought she was probably full of crap.

  Through the rest of detention, I kept sneaking glances back at Emma and Tim, trying to tell if they were serious just by looking at them. Emma was pale and kind of dumpy looking. Tim was scrawny, just about equally pale, and wearing a dirty pair of glasses. His blond hair looked like it had never seen a comb. For a gay guy, he was sort of shockingly unfabulous.

  Another religion to deal with may have been just about the last thing I wanted, but I was determined to at least get my money’s worth, and even hanging out with freaky mind readers sounded better than being alone. When detention ended, I turned around to talk to them.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey,” said Emma. “I’m Emma Wolf. This is my first disciple, the Apostle Tim.”

  I smiled and nervously shook both of their hands.

  “So, what’s it all about?” I asked. “What do you guys believe in?”

  “It’s not a question of what we believe so much as what we’ve managed to figure out so far,” said Emma.

  “Well, make up so far,” said Tim.

  “Right,” said Emma. “We both needed a higher power to call on to help us get over bad habits, but neither of us was into any of the religions we knew about, so we made up our own.”

  “And now we’re going on a holy quest?” I asked.

  “That’s the best way to introduce someone to Bluedaism,” said Emma. “Take them on a holy quest.”

  “We think so, anyway,” said T
im. “No one ever gave us five bucks before.”

  “What kind of holy quest are we talking about?”

  “I don’t know yet,” said Emma. “Every holy quest is different. You have any requests?”

  I decided to be honest with her. I mean, she already knew my biggest secret. I didn’t have much left to hide.

  “I’m trying to build up the courage to talk to Lisa tonight,” I said. “Like, declaring myself or whatever. And I’m getting ready to re-start my whole life and move to Minneapolis when she rejects me.”

  Emma turned to Tim. “She’s in love with her best girlfriend,” she explained. “And she’s in ACTs.”

  “Ouch,” said Tim.

  Damn, I still couldn’t get over how weird it felt to actually hear people say that stuff out loud.

  “When were you going to talk to her?” Emma asked.

  “After her date with Norman. That’s why I need to be at the theater.”

  “Perfect,” said Emma. “We have some time to kill, then.”

  We started walking down the hall.

  “So, what were you in for?” asked Tim.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said, continuing my plan to just be honest. I didn’t really have the energy to think up a good lie, anyway. “I just thought it would be a good way to meet new people.”

  “Hallelujah!” said Tim. “That’s why we went, too!”

  “Well,” said Emma, “come on out to my car and we’ll get this thing started. If you need something to keep you occupied ’til the whole thing with Lisa, we’ve got you

  covered.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I really don’t want to be alone today.”

  Just as we got to the front door, a voice came from down the hall.

  “Wolf ! ” it shouted.

  I turned around to see Heather Quinn walking toward us.

  Heather was kind of a lower-tier “popular” girl. Not exactly well-liked, but well-known, at least. She wasn’t a cheerleader or student body president or anything, but she was on homecoming court, and joined so many clubs that the yearbook was practically a photo spread of her. She was short—probably not even five feet tall—but cute.