Have a Little Faith in Me

by Sonia Hartl

  “Kind of?” My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard. “You know what would be a lot more useful than Priscilla’s workshop on victim blaming? Sex Ed 101. This camp is clearly in some need of good, old-fashioned ‘what goes where and how.’”

  “Amen.” Sarina slapped a hand over her mouth and glanced at the sky.

  “Come on.” Mandy skipped ahead of us. “The chips are waiting, and I’m going to need details. Who knows? I could’ve easily made the same mistake as you.”

  That would’ve been a true blessing.

  Chapter 12

  After we’d stuffed our faces with pilfered chips and discussed what we’d come to call Milk-Gate, Sarina gave us a live demonstration of one of her YouTube videos by transforming her eyes into blue butterfly wings. When I got home, I’d watch every one of her videos. She helped me with something a little less dramatic, but the gold sparkle still made me feel like a princess. We dressed in our best sundresses. My best happened to be a pink one with gold threading I’d brought to remind Ethan of our first date. But I loved the dress, even though I was confused about my feelings for the boy.

  Paul took my hand on the way to dinner, and I tried not to notice my heartbeat thumping against his palm. “You look gorgeous. Missed you during free hour.”

  “Thanks.” So. Much. Blushing. This was my best friend, not some cute guy who smiled at me in the hall, and we were only pretending. “I hung out with the girls in my cabin. There was an incident with Sarina and Jerome we had to discuss in lengthy detail.”

  “Does it have to do with why he tried to ice his dick the other night?”

  “No! What is wrong with him?”

  “He’s sheltered.” Paul shook his head. “I felt bad enough for the guy to stop him before it got ugly, but it would’ve been amusing if he’d gone through with it.”

  “They should talk more about sex here. How many untold injuries could’ve been prevented with a little education? It’d be way better than having girl-blaming lectures.”

  “So that’s why you caused a ruckus during Priscilla’s workshop.” Paul put his hand on my waist and pulled me closer. “Would it be weird if I said I find that incredibly attractive?”

  “No,” I squeaked. “I’m not making it weird. You’re the one making it weird. How did you hear about that anyway?” I waved a hand. “Never mind. I’m sure everyone heard about it. I’m surprised Pastor Dean didn’t call us in for a meeting.”

  “He might yet.” He let go of my waist and went back to holding my hand. Nice, easy hand-holding. “Try to lie low for the next few days.”

  After dinner Pastor Dean announced the talent show would be the last night of camp and reminded us all about the bonfire testimonials on Sunday. A hush had gone over the crowd, and once again I wondered what kind of shenanigans went on there. I couldn’t imagine Astrid, Sarina, or Mandy having anything messy enough to share, and I couldn’t have cared less about the boys, minus Paul. I already knew they were disgusting.

  “Want to sneak out to the woods tonight?” Paul asked. “I have another story.”

  “You’re full of them lately.” I poked him in the stomach. “What’s this one about?”

  “A mean troll who lives under a bridge and makes all the girls who pass wear iron underwear in the name of protecting their virtue. But then it rains and they all get tetanus. It’s a sad story, full of heroics and heartbreak.”

  “Iron Underwear would be a great band name.” I turned my head. In the shadows Ethan held Mandy tight against him. The quick punch to my gut took me by surprise. I’d started to think I was used to seeing Ethan with someone who wasn’t me, and then nope. Still hurt. Maybe it always would. “Same tree?”

  “Yep, same red shirt.” He left with Peter to go to the other side of the lake.

  I went back to the cabin with Astrid and Sarina, and a few minutes later Mandy came in and collapsed on her bed. “Boys are exhausting.”

  Understatement of the year. I put a pillow over my face. “Did you and Ethan fight?”

  “I tried to end things.”

  “You did?” I threw my pillow on the ground and sat straight up. “What happened?”

  “He swore he would change, he said he would stop being so pushy. I told him I’d give him one more chance, but I don’t know if I even want to. He’s not the same guy I texted with during the school year.”

  “You two texted?” My voice sounded like it came from the opposite end of a long tunnel. My throat tightened as everything inside me shriveled up and died. Here lies CeCe, a girl with a paper husk where her heart used to be. “The whole school year?”

  “Well, yeah.” She looked at me as if I’d just asked if two plus two equaled five.

  “Weren’t you both seeing other people?” Like me. I’d regulated myself to one of the nameless and faceless Other People. A walk-on player in their epic love story.

  “It’s not like I cheated on the guys I dated. I stayed friends with Ethan after the summer ended, but it wasn’t realistic for us to date. We live a hundred miles apart.”

  “Did he want to date you? Despite the mileage?”

  “He wanted to see me when he got his truck, but I told him no.” She picked at the rosebuds on her comforter. “I wasn’t ready for anything that serious. I’m still not. I just wanted to have fun this summer.”

  “But he did. He wanted something serious.” I followed this guy to Jesus camp, and I wasn’t even his first crush, his first love, his first kiss, the first girl he pictured in his future. Mandy came before me in all the ways that counted. I’d just been the first girl who’d let him go all the way. The thing I thought mattered most only mattered to me. “Excuse me. Lady problems.”

  I got up, walked across the room like normal, closed the bathroom door behind me like normal, and slid to the floor. I held my chest and let the pain pulse against my open palm. The empty place inside me, the one Ethan had carved out the night he told me we couldn’t see each other anymore, ached with regret. For how much of myself I’d given, and how little I’d gotten in return. Even if I’d completely reshaped myself into the person I thought he wanted me to be, he wouldn’t have come back.

  Because he’d never really been mine to begin with.

  After a small eternity of letting my heart bleed on the dingy tile floor, Astrid tapped on the door. “CeCe? You okay in there? Do you want me to bring you to the nurse’s station?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I peeled myself away from the wall, the newly dried paint tacky against my tank top, and peeked into the cabin. “What time is it?”

  “Almost time for lights-out.”

  I waited until all the cabins went dark before I left, keeping my eyes peeled for any counselors. Two of them sat on the lake dock, dipping their toes in the water, but no one would be stupid enough to sneak out on the water at night. It was too open. That didn’t mean I was in the clear though. With every snapping twig or rustling bush, I’d whip my head around, prepared to make a run for it.

  Paul had the same blanket and more cans of Coke set out. This time he’d drawn a stick figure with sharp teeth and blunt bangs, with a few stick figures who had padlocks drawn around their waists. This would be one of his better stories.

  I took a long swallow of Coke and set my can to the side. “I know you’ve got a story planned, but I finally figured out Ethan is a liar and a cheat and he probably just used me, so go ahead and tell me you told me so and chastise me for dragging you up here for nothing.”

  “As much as I enjoy telling you I told you so, I get the feeling this might be a bad time.” Paul scooted in closer to me. “What happened?”

  “I’m a mess.” I lay down on the blanket and flung an arm over my head. “Turns out, he texted with Mandy the whole time we were together because he always wanted to be with her, he never wanted me, and I hate this. I hate feeling like I’m not enough all the time. I wish I could just forget he ever existed.”

  “First off, you’re always enough. Sometimes too much.” Paul sprawled o
ut next to me, propping his head up with his arm. “Why did you love him? He’s a straightlaced Bible-thumper whose mother dresses him funny, and you’re not any of those things.”

  “That’s why I asked him out. I thought he’d be kind because he was straightlaced and talked about Jesus.” Even if we weren’t in the real hideout, I couldn’t hide myself from Paul.

  “There are plenty of guys who are kind and not into Jesus. Some of them are even kinder than the ones who twist Scripture in selfish ways.”

  “I know, but he was so different. The night he picked me up for our first date, I came downstairs in my spaghetti strap sundress, the one I wore tonight. He sucked his breath in through his teeth, as if he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. That’s why I fell for him. Because he made me feel beautiful and it was empowering to think he felt lucky to be with me.”

  And there was the truth I hadn’t been able to acknowledge, staring me right in the face. I’d needed him to need me. Not because I liked going to his boring family dinners and bowling with his youth group friends every weekend, but because he looked at me like I held his world in my hands. Being so openly, unapologetically wanted had been intoxicating.

  “He was lucky to be with you,” Paul said quietly.

  “But he rejected me the moment we had sex, so what does that say about me?” All my worst fears surfaced. Up until we had sex, he’d been a caring and attentive boyfriend. “I think I did it wrong.”

  “Not possible.” Paul sat up. “Did he tell you that? Because I will go kick his ass right now. I’m not even kidding.”

  “No, he didn’t say that.” I rested my hand on his knee. “But he didn’t really have to, you know? He kept asking me and asking me, and when I finally gave in, he broke up with me two days later. I can connect the dots.”

  “Did he pressure you?” All the tendons in Paul’s lean frame tightened.

  “It’s not like that.” I held his hand, stroking the top with my thumb to soothe us both. “He didn’t take advantage of me, or just plow his way in. He asked me, and I said yes.”

  “How many times did you say no first?”

  This conversation had gone someplace I didn’t want it to go. My stomach twisted in knots with all the guilt and frustration and hurt I’d taken on in the last month. I couldn’t stand the way Paul looked at me, like he had to defend my honor or something.

  Ethan wasn’t the first guy to put the pressure on. If I wanted to, I could’ve told him to stop bugging me. I said yes because every time I said no, I disappeared when he looked at me. Because I thought sex would bring back the girl who made him suck in his breath between his teeth. Because I thought he’d cherish me and hold me, and I’d feel loved. Maybe that wasn’t a good or right reason, but it was my reason and my choice.

  “CeCe.” Paul’s voice was strained. “Did you say no before you said yes?”

  A couple of campers howled in the distance, impossible to see through the thick tangle of branches. If I’d let Paul tell his story about the troll instead of getting into all the ways Ethan continued to hurt me, I could’ve been having a good time too. I rolled my can between my hands. “I know what you’re asking, and I’m begging you not to do this. Please.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He rubbed his eyes. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

  “He didn’t rape me. I could’ve kept saying no, like I did the other times, and he would’ve eventually stopped asking.” Tears pooled in my eyes. I felt raw and scratchy, like I’d been sunburned on the inside. “I said yes. I fully consented.”

  “The way he treated you isn’t okay. You know that, right?” He kneeled in front of me with so much concern, I had to look away. “My mom has been hammering this into me since the day I tried to kiss you without asking and got a well-deserved right hook to my jaw. Consent is more than just saying yes once.”

  “I don’t understand.” Ethan had many faults, but he couldn’t be expected to read minds. I didn’t like the sex, but I didn’t speak up to say so. That was on me.

  “I can see your wheels spinning, and I have no idea what you’re thinking, but consent should be an ongoing conversation. Did he check in with you? Did he make sure you were comfortable, that you were still enjoying things?”

  Was that something guys were supposed to do? I’d had sex and still didn’t know anything about it, other than it had made me feel empty. I thought being loved, winning him back, would fill me up again. My stomach rolled, and I crawled over to the nearest bush.

  “Goddamn it.” Paul held my hair as I puked. “I fucking hate that guy.”

  “I shouldn’t have done it.” I spit the last of the sickness out of my mouth. “It’s my fault. I let him use me. What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this?”

  “It’s not your fault.” Paul gathered me in his arms and rubbed my back. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You fell in love with someone who told you he loved you. You weren’t wrong to believe him.”

  “I’m sorry I got sick.” I rested my head on Paul’s chest.

  “Don’t be.” He stroked my hair. “You got hit with a lot of shit all at once.”

  We stayed there in the dark for a long time, with no words or stories, just me and him and the comfortable silence. Paul knew all my worst parts. The girl I was and the girl I pretended to be. And through it all, he still treated me like the girl I wanted to be.

  “You never liked Ethan, did you?” I asked. “Even when we were dating.”

  “He’s pretty much everything I can’t stand about Christians. Arrogant, hypocritical, uses the Bible as a weapon to justify all his shittier qualities.”

  “There are good ones too. Like your mom and stepdad. And you.”

  “I’m not a Christian.”

  “You used to be.” Paul could be arrogant and hypocritical sometimes, but he never used the Bible as a weapon. Not like Ethan did. “The way you quote Scripture isn’t the same as the way I memorized the order of US presidents. You make the words have meaning.”

  “They’re just words.”

  “Fine, but if you’re not a Christian, then what do you believe?”

  “I could ask you the same question, and you know my baggage.”

  “All right.” I cracked my knuckles. “I’ll take a stab at it. When we die, I think our consciousness becomes part of the black matter that’s stretching galaxies in this plane of existence away from each other as our sense of self takes shape in another dimension.”

  Amusement danced in his eyes. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “The Internet. And I also think time is circular, so we’re always existing. The concept of death keeps us from going mad because we experience time as linear, and so we think there must be a beginning and an end, when it’s actually happening at the same time.”

  “So that means you’re living through this poorly thought out nightmare of a plan to win back Ethan, all the time, for all eternity? Damn. I kind of feel bad for you now.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Since you put it that way, maybe I’ll ditch that theory and stick to the one about the other dimensions.”

  “Look at you, changing your core beliefs to suit your needs. It’s like you’re becoming a certified Christian.” He wiped a fake tear from his cheek. “I’m so proud.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m still going to ride out these next few weeks to get my community service done, and to avoid that whole grounded-for-life scenario.”

  “It’s up to you.” Paul rubbed his neck. “It’s kind of fun pretending to be your summer boyfriend. Especially when you do that earlobe thing.”

  “I’m a girl of many talents.” I stretched my arms. Devotions would come early, and I wanted to stay awake for at least one of them. “Though we could start acting like this is a regular camp, and forget about pretending to worship the guy who used to date your mom.”

  “Why does he have to be the guy who dated my mom? Why can’t he be the guy who used to mow your grass?”

  “B
ecause it’s funnier that way.”

  He groaned and buried his face in my hair.

  Later we headed out of the clearing, and at the tree where his red shirt was hanging, he gave me a long, lingering hug. The kind that made me feel safe and warm. My head went a little dizzy. I’d probably stayed up too late, but it had been worth every minute, even if that meant I’d be sleeping through devotions. Again.

  Chapter 13

  After a long week of waiting for the event of the summer, the night of the bonfire testimony arrived. Most of the camp headed down to the giant fire pit by the lake while the senior leaders got stuck with dinner cleanup. The sky pulsed with light and the air shimmered with anticipation as a cool breeze kicked up off the water. I rubbed my arms against the chill. Paul unzipped his hoodie and draped it over me. It smelled of soap and sandalwood and hung down to my knees.

  “Listen, before this gets going, I need to warn you again.” He pulled me aside by one of the workshop buildings. “Don’t feel compelled to share your testimony.”

  “Why do you keep thinking I’d do that? I don’t even know what a testimony is.”

  “‘Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens.’”

  I was perfectly capable of listening. I just chose not to most of the time. “Look at you, whipping out Bible quotes with an air of judgment. How Christian of you.”

  “Not a Bible verse. That one is courtesy of Jimi Hendrix.” He glanced at a group of younger campers laughing in their tight group. “I just want you to be prepared for tonight. Ethan might share. Don’t let it get in your head.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Good. I hope it scares you out of speaking.”

  We scored a log-for-two closest to the fire. And by scored, I meant we got shuffled there as part of the older group. Apparently the oldest kids had the juiciest stories to share, so they did the most talking. The freshmen stayed back to observe what the horrors of the real world did to those supposedly purest of heart.

  Pastor Dean stood in front of the fire, slightly resembling a mad, helmet-haired goblin, but I probably shouldn’t have made sharp judgments on him. The guy who used to date Paul’s mom was watching, after all. After more droning on, where the listening part would’ve come in handy, he passed the microphone to a junior girl who copped to stealing her sister’s clothes until she had a dream where Jesus made her go to school naked. Yawn.