Have a Little Faith in Me

by Sonia Hartl

  “I was scared too,” I said. The hopeful look on his face, like he had my empathy, turned my stomach. “But you left me to deal with it on my own.”

  “I didn’t want to leave you.” He reached for my hand, and I backed away. “But in order to strengthen my relationship with Jesus, I had to make sacrifices.”

  “What sacrifices have you made?”

  “I lost you.” He kicked a rock at his feet. “I lost Mandy.”

  “Because of your choices.” I closed my eyes and counted to ten, taking deep breaths in between. We didn’t think the same, so it was no surprise we couldn’t communicate the same. “Sacrifice is something you do for the good of others. Not for the good of yourself.”

  His posture stiffened. The apologetic mask he wore slipped, revealing a haughty and proud boy who didn’t like to be told no. The true form he hid under the nice guy veneer. “I don’t expect you to get it, since you’re not a real Christian.”

  “That’s a weak argument. I may not know the Bible, but I’m familiar with another book called Merriam-Webster. And you better believe I know the definition of sacrifice.”

  I walked away, not even giving him a backward glance. The days of being manipulated by his sob stories and conflicted feelings about his faith were over. I had nothing left to give him. I’d taken it all back for myself, and I intended to keep it.

  Chapter 20

  Arts and crafts appealed to me way more than the nurse’s station, even if the room was a little dead. Occasionally we’d get some freshmen girls in who wanted to make friendship bracelets, but most of the kids at camp were too old for finger painting and papier-mâché. I had no issue with it though. I got to put in my hour with Mandy, and we invented our own bizarre game of Pictionary using melting beads to pass the time.

  “Are you guys almost done?” Sarina burst into the arts and crafts room, her skin still shimmering from her suntan lotion. “I’m in desperate need of help here.”

  Sarina and Jerome had apparently gotten over their awkward phase at the lake today, where they both had lifeguard duty. She planned to sneak out to meet him. That meant endless hours of agonizing over underwear he’d never see, and her choices ran between plain cotton, cotton with stripes, and cotton with flowers. At least she didn’t have days-of-the-week panties. Not that it mattered.

  “Almost.” Mandy contemplated my collection of melting green beads. “Is it a mossy rock? Or is it supposed to be a shamrock?”

  “It’s clearly a turtle.” I pointed to its head. “How can you not see it?”

  “I don’t know.” Sarina peered over my shoulder. “Looks like a rock to me.”

  “This is a terrible game.” I swept the beads back into the box. “We’re free to go, but you’ll have to have the great underwear debate without me. I’m on dinner prep.”

  “Boo,” Sarina said.

  They went back to the cabin while I put my time in at the kitchen. Paul hadn’t been lying about the Gouda. They had waited a few days to bring it out, and I snuck a bite while cutting it up for the cheese board. After mixing the salad, I took off my apron and left. Hopefully I’d have time for a quick shower. I smelled like a vegetable garden.

  Sarina still hadn’t finalized her underwear choice by the time I’d finished getting ready, and I told her to worry about it after dinner. We walked down to the dining hall and met up with the boys. Ethan lagged behind them, no doubt wanting to avoid all of us. I hadn’t seen him around camp all day, not even at lunch, and it surprised me how little I cared about him now. So much had changed in such a short time. He gave Mandy a weak smile, which wasn’t returned.

  I hooked my arm through Mandy’s. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Yeah. Even knowing what I know about him, it still hurts. And I feel guilty for hurting, which hurts more. Is there something wrong with me?”

  “No.” I slowed our pace until we remained a little behind the group. “It’s okay to hurt. If you need anything, we’re here for you. Girls of cabin eight for life, right?”

  “For life.” She smiled.

  In the dining hall, I got in line with my tray, next to Paul. “Tell me if you see anything you could put a condom on. Something long and hard enough.”

  “What the hell is going on in cabin eight?” he asked.

  “Language, Mr. Romanowski.”

  After the success of the consent workshop, more girls had come to the next one, which Sarina had led on how not to give a hand job. I had to miss that one due to our conflicting schedules, but Astrid said she ran it like she runs her YouTube tutorials. With a soothing voice and clear, easy-to-understand directions. Sarina planned to lead a follow-up workshop, if tonight’s meet-up with Jerome went well. Mandy offered to pitch in for one on masturbation, and steam practically poured out of her burning ears when she told us that, but she said she had to work up the nerve to do it before she could talk about it. Which left the much-anticipated condom one. And since we all agreed that one should be a group effort, we had to wait for our schedules to line up.

  As I passed by the sandwiches, which didn’t offer much in the sex ed department, Mandy approached with a long pretzel stick. “What do you think about this?”

  “Too skinny,” I said. “But frozen breadsticks might work.”

  “No, seriously,” Paul said. “What the hell is going on in cabin eight?”

  “It’s not a big deal.” I lowered my voice. “I’m trying to teach some of the girls here how to roll on a condom, and cucumbers aren’t realistic.”

  “Says you.” He smirked.

  “Says every girl who’s ever been with you.”

  That wiped the smile off his face.

  I picked up a corn on the cob and put it on my plate. Not ideal, the kernels could pose a problem, and no one wanted to picture getting it on with a bumpy yellow penis. The Polish sausages might’ve been too on the nose, and floppy, but if they were frozen, maybe. I put one on the tray. Paul side-eyed my dinner selections but kept his mouth shut. The salad bar had much better options, but everything had been cut up. At the end of the line I put a cream roll on the tray. The bread would be way too flaky, but it would at least be able to offer a live demonstration of the endgame. And I grabbed a huge chunk of Gouda, just for me.

  “That is the most Freudian dinner I’ve ever seen in my life,” Paul said.

  “Thank you.” If I hadn’t been holding my tray, I would’ve curtsied.

  We got back to the table, where Sarina and Jerome sat next to each other, giggling. I’d gotten the wrong impression of Jerome when we’d first arrived at camp, but the way he treated Sarina, even after Milk-Gate, warmed my heart.

  Peter eyed my tray, glancing at me with red cheeks. I winked at him, and I swear he almost passed out. Nothing got by that kid. Ethan had abandoned our table for a group of junior guys I didn’t recognize. Which was for the best. The bonfire debacle still hadn’t blown over, and my cabinmates were a fierce and protective pack.

  “Do you think you can get some of these, frozen?” I cut my Polish sausage down the middle and stuck a fork in one half, holding it up for Astrid.

  “I think I can do better.” Astrid turned her salad bowl toward me. “Check it out. They’ve got zucchini. Those are way smaller than cucumbers.”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  “You girls.” Jerome shook his head. “If Pastor Dean finds out about this, he’s going to send you all packing.”

  “But he won’t find out because you’re not going to tell him,” Astrid said.

  “Tell him what?” Peter blurted out. The curiosity must’ve been killing him.

  “Nothing you need to know, young whippersnapper,” Jerome said.

  “I’m the same age as the rest of you,” Peter grumbled.

  “I have no clue what’s going on either,” Paul said. Which made Peter sit up a little straighter. If Paul didn’t know, he probably thought it wasn’t worth knowing.

  I ate my cheese and corn, leaving the sausage behind. It weirded me out the wa
y Peter kept looking at it and my mouth, like he couldn’t wait for me to take a bite. Tonight’s activity included a dance, but we could go back to our cabins if we wanted. As soon as we cleared out the benches and the strobe lights went on, I knew this dance wouldn’t be for me. I didn’t recognize the music, and not in the way I didn’t recognize Paul’s music.

  Paul walked with me toward my cabin after dinner. “I thought you didn’t want any part of scaring Christian girls out of sex.”

  “I’m not scaring anyone. I told you the meeting I led went pretty well,” I said. “Tomorrow I’m going to teach them how to put on a condom, which is a necessary life skill.”

  “How noble of you.” He rolled a rock under his foot.

  “I didn’t think I’d want to get into it, but the girls were pretty respectful at my last meeting, and I know what Astrid’s trying to do. Her heart is in the right place.”

  “It’s probably more useful than the Waiting for Marriage workshop.” He mimicked throwing up, and I laughed.

  “You brought that on yourself.” I bumped him with my elbow. “I just hate that I’m the only vocal example these girls have right now. They should explore their sexuality without terrible expectations. I want them to be prepared, not terrified.”

  “You know what you should do then?” He bent down to whisper in my ear, and his cheek brushed against mine. I shivered as he tucked back a lock of my hair. “Have good sex.”

  Dozens of goose bumps peppered my skin. I leaned closer to him, taking in the scent of soap and sandalwood, and an idea started to form in my head. One that left me breathless. I’d gotten so caught up in this epic game of pretend, teetering between my platonic and not-so-platonic feelings for Paul, it hadn’t occurred to me that I had a third option. One where I could explore my feelings without consequences. Where his issues with commitment wouldn’t matter. Without relationship statuses and formal dates and ugly breakups. We’d been through almost everything together. Our friendship could survive a little good sex.

  But how did one casually mention the idea of having sex to their best friend? Hey, you’re single and I’m single? Ew. No. That was what old people said to each other on a hookup cruise. I’m interested in having sex that doesn’t suck—would you be available for that this week? Might as well be asking for an oil change at a full-service gas station.

  He waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking. About nothing. Regular stuff.” So smooth.

  “Right …” He gave me one of his half smiles. “See you tomorrow?”

  “You too,” I managed to call after he’d gotten a good thirty yards away.

  Mandy came up behind me, with Sarina on her other side. Tonight was the big night. Hand job attempt number two, and over dinner she’d decided on the flower panties Jerome wouldn’t actually see.

  Shortly after we got back to the cabin, Astrid burst through the door, lifted her shirt, and pulled four zucchinis out of the waist of her shorts. “The whole time I was walking out of the kitchen I thought one of these was going to fall out of my shorts, and I would’ve had no way to explain myself.”

  Sarina picked one of them up and wrapped her hand around it. “Should I, um, practice before I meet Jerome tonight?”

  “Honey, no.” I plucked the zucchini out of her hand. “That’s like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. Just get a firm grip, not too firm, and move your hand up and down. You could spit on your hand if it feels too dry or you think you might be in danger of pulling. If you’re not feeling sure, ask him what he wants. Communication, remember?”

  “What if he wants to … reciprocate?”

  I shrugged. “Go with it if it’s something you want to do? I don’t know. Again, I wasn’t a fan, but maybe you will be.”

  The one time Ethan tried hand stimulation, he just shoved his finger in and out of me. It was worse than the sex. His nails had been dirty from helping his dad clean out their shed, and I didn’t even want him to touch me, but he insisted. Like he was doing me a favor.

  “Is there anything I should know?” Sarina knotted her fingers together. “Should I spray some perfume down there, just in case?”

  “Absolutely not. That’s a yeast infection waiting to happen.” I grabbed her shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “If he makes a single offhand remark about how you smell, I will personally remove his balls.”

  “You’re really scary right now,” she said. “I kind of like it.”

  “Guys say things without realizing how bad it messes us up. Even if they don’t mean it, or if they don’t know better, it’s no excuse for them to be shitheads.”

  “Ethan didn’t say anything like that about you, did he?” Mandy asked quietly.

  “No, he still has his balls intact, but it happened to another girl at my school, and it was the worst. Karma came back, though. The guy couldn’t even get a date to prom. Every girl in school was terrified he’d do the same to them.”

  “Serves him right,” Astrid said. “I hate the way guys can get away with saying whatever they want about us, but we can’t ever win. If we even act like we know what sex is, we’re sluts. If we aren’t interested in sex, we’re cold and emotionless.”

  “It’s unfair,” I said. “That’s why we have to be vigilant and have each other’s backs.”

  “Seriously,” Mandy said. “If we don’t look out for each other, no one else will.”

  “Guys who would do that kind of thing don’t deserve us anyway,” Sarina said.

  “Hear, hear.” Astrid pumped her fist in the air.

  Sarina went to the bathroom to brush her short cap of hair one more time and apply some last minute berry-flavored lip gloss. She’d colored her eyebrows royal blue and drawn peacock feathers on her lids. When she came out of the bathroom, we oohed and aahed over how pretty she looked, and fussed over the cute summer dress she’d picked out to wear. And like proud parents sending their baby off to college, we crowded at the door and made sure she got to the woods without getting caught.

  “Okay,” I said once we got back inside. “Let’s roll some condoms on these zucchinis.”

  After I showed them how to pinch the tip so air wouldn’t get in, the girls quickly became skilled at outfitting their vegetables. It helped that they had something appropriately sized to work with. At the end of the night, Mandy filled a condom with water and put it on Sarina’s pillow. A little you-suck-for-getting-action-while-we’re-all-cooped-up-in-here present from us to her. Hopefully her night went so well, she wouldn’t care all that much.

  As my head hit my pillow, Paul’s suggestion to have good sex lingered. If Sarina could work up the courage to try another hand job after Milk-Gate, I could ask Paul to have sex with me. It didn’t need to be all emotional. Paul had sex all the time without emotion, and he was a lot better off than me. Time was ticking away at camp. I had to do it before we left, or I’d never get up the nerve to ask him again.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning, I woke to a tickling sensation on my nose. I reached up to scratch it, and got a face full of shaving cream. Sputtering, I rolled over and wiped my face on my pillow.

  “Good morning.” Sarina stood over me, laughing, a feather in her hand. “I really appreciated laying my head down last night and having a wet condom explode all over my pillow, so I’m just returning the favor.”

  “Why me? What about the other two?”

  “They’ll get theirs when they wake up.” Sarina moved on to Astrid, who slept with her hand open and hanging off the bed.

  We kind of had it coming.

  “How did it go last night?” I asked once we’d all been woken up via shaving cream to the face. “Did you do the thing?”

  Sarina got a dreamy look on her face as she hugged her comforter. “I did the thing. And he did the thing to me, and it was amazing.”

  “It was?” While I was happy for her, I felt like I’d spent months training for a marathon, only to get beaten by someone
who’d never run a day in their life.

  “Don’t get me wrong—I’m still terrified of going that far—but I could do the manual stuff forever. You would’ve been so proud of me too. I was like a traffic-directing cop.” She signaled with her hands. “Over here, too far to the right, now you’re clear to go on through.”

  “Did it hurt when he put his fingers inside you?” Mandy had a look of horror on her face, no doubt recalling her one and only attempt at wearing tampons.

  “He didn’t put his fingers inside me, just, you know.” Sarina twirled her wrist. “Worked on the outside. And it sort of built up, like I had to sneeze. Down there. All my muscles tightened up, and then I let go. My head and stomach felt weightless, but in a good way.”

  Sarina, who last week couldn’t even say the word penis out loud, was now schooling me on how to have an orgasm. I’d officially entered the Twilight Zone.

  “We should add this to the workshop.” Astrid grabbed a notebook, all business, and started jotting things down. “Can you go into more detail? I don’t understand what you mean by having to sneeze down there. Was the weightlessness similar to a roller coaster?”

  “It’s kind of hard to describe. You know something is happening to your body, and you want it to happen right away, but getting there feels good too.” She blushed so hard, even her neck turned red. “I can’t believe I’m saying all this out loud.”

  “I have to get in the shower now, but I’m so happy for you,” I said.

  And I meant it. I loved Sarina and I wanted nothing but the best for her, but it still stung. I’d made out with plenty of guys. I’d touched them and let them touch me, but I’d never felt what she described. My insecurities always took me out of the moment. Instead of letting go, I focused on all my faults and flaws. I had to wonder if I’d never experienced what she had because I was broken. Maybe the problem hadn’t been Ethan. Maybe it really was me.

  After I got out of the shower and got dressed, the girls were still going over every detail of Sarina’s night. Now she was claiming she could hear angels’ trumpets, and it was all too much. I threw my hair into a wet bun and headed to devotions.