I consider this but don’t say anything. I wonder if she’s talking about me.
“Now, feel free to say no to this, but I wondered if you’d want to go to church with me this morning.”
“Okay,” I say, surprising myself probably even more than her.
“Great,” she says. “Maybe afterward we can swing by the hospital and find out how Sally is doing.”
So it is that I find myself sitting in church with Andrea Lynch this morning. And, really, how weird is that? I mean, just last night I was at a drinking party with the “cool” cheerleaders and today I’m in church with Geek Girl. Okay, I’m not calling her that anymore. That is just plain mean. Still, it seems pretty ironic that I’m here right now. I wonder what Kendra would say.
Another weird thing is that I actually seem to get some of the things the preacher is saying this morning. Besides that, I suspect something very strange is happening inside of me. I get this sense that a very real spiritual presence is sort of nudging me, and I think maybe it’s God or Jesus or both of them combined. I still haven’t sorted out the exact difference between them. According to what the preacher’s saying, they really are one and the same. Still, I’m not sure about this. But I am interested.
As we leave, I tell Andrea that I kind of like her church and she seems pleased. And, thankfully, she doesn’t pressure me about anything. That’s such a huge relief. If there’s anything I really don’t need right now, it’s pressure. I feel like I’ve had enough pressure these past few weeks to last me a lifetime. Also, I have a feeling that it’s not over yet. Maybe it will never be.
After we get in her car, Andrea drives us to the hospital and I ask at the reception desk where Sally’s room is. But once we get there, we see that her family is with her, and although we barely get a glimpse into the room, it looks as if she’s still unconscious. She has some tubes and things sticking out of her body, and it looks pretty serious, pretty scary too. I’m just backing away from the door when her mother notices me. She immediately comes out, quietly closing the door behind her, and I brace myself, certain I’m about to be blasted for having been involved in the drinking party last night.
“Reagan?” she asks.
I nod without speaking.
“I thought that was you,” she says. “I’ve seen you from a distance at the football games, but I don’t think we’ve actually met. I’m Sally’s mother.” Then she sticks out her hand and shakes mine. “I want to thank you for calling the paramedics last night.”
I just nod, trying to think of something to say. “How is she?” I finally manage to ask.
“She’s still in a coma, but they’re doing everything they can for her.”
A coma? Somehow that possibility never occurred to me. But I’m so thankful she’s not dead. “I hope she’ll be okay.” I know that sounds lame, but I really do mean it.
“I’m sure she’s going to be fine,” she says. “But the doctor told us that Sally would’ve died if she hadn’t gotten medical attention when she did.”
I turn to Andrea now, taking a moment to introduce her to Sally’s mom, but it turns out they already know each other, back from middle school days. “The truth is,” I admit, “I actually left the party early last night, mostly because I didn’t want to drink. It was Andrea who helped me realize I needed to go back and make sure everyone was okay.”
Sally’s mom thanks Andrea too.
“I’ll be praying for Sally,” Andrea assures her.
“I appreciate that.” She pulls out a tissue and uses it to blot a tear.
I wish I could say the same, but I don’t even know how to pray.
We tell her good-bye and leave. Neither of us says anything as we go down the elevator, and we are both silent as we walk to her car.
“Do you think Sally’s going to be okay?” I finally ask as she drives away from the hospital.
“I don’t know,” admits Andrea. “It didn’t look too good. I plan to call our church and put her on the prayer chain.”
“What’s a prayer chain?”
“It’s a bunch of people who really believe in prayer. One person calls another, and that person calls the next, and before long, there are about fifty people all praying at the same time. We’ve seen some real miracles as a result.”
“Pull over,” I say, and Andrea immediately turns on her signal, then pulls over. “Please,” I say as I hand her my phone, “call them right now.”
So Andrea calls and starts the prayer chain. Then she hands the phone back to me. “We can pray too,” she says. And right there, parked on the side of the street, Andrea bows her head and begins to pray. And it sounds like she is talking to a real person.
“Dear heavenly Father,” she says, “we’re really worried about our friend Sally. Okay, to be honest, she’s not actually my friend anymore since she doesn’t like me. But I care about her and we used to be friends. Anyway, God, please, please heal Sally. Reach down and put your hand right on her, right now, and heal whatever isn’t working inside of her. Whether it’s her brain or her lungs or her heart or whatever, I know you know what it is that needs to be touched. I know you can heal what needs to be healed. But, most of all, dear God, please touch her heart and her spirit. Show her how much she needs you, and show her how you love her so much that you sent Jesus so that she could believe in you and never die. Please, God, do a real live miracle for Sally. Amen.” Then Andrea opens her eyes, puts her car into gear, and gets back into traffic.
As she drives across town, one line from her prayer keeps reverberating through my head. Finally I have to ask her about it. “Tell me about what you prayed just now — the part about how God loves Sally so much that he sent Jesus so that she could believe in him and never die. What does that mean exactly? How is that possible?”
“It’s actually really simple,” she says. “There’s a verse in the Bible — in fact, it’s the first verse I ever memorized, shortly after I gave my heart to God. Do you want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
“I originally learned it from my dad’s Bible, but that uses kind of old-fashioned language, so I put it into my own words. It’s John 3:16, and this is how it goes: God loves everyone on earth so much that he sent his only son, Jesus Christ, so that anyone who believes in him will be saved — and they will live forever and never die.”
“And that’s what you really believe?”
“I do.”
I consider this, weighing it against the fears I had last night when I was obsessing over life and death and feeling totally confused. And for some reason those words just really resonate inside of me. It’s like I really get it.
“So how would I do that?” I finally ask her. “I mean, if I wanted to believe in Jesus too. What would I need to do exactly?”
Andrea sort of laughs, but not in a mean way. “It’s easy, Reagan. But let me pull over up here first.”
So Andrea pulls onto a side street. “Do you want to pray with me, Reagan? Do you want to ask Jesus into your heart?”
I nod and she explains that she’ll pray the words and if I agree with them, I will repeat them afterward. “Basically, you just do it,” she says as she bows her head and starts to pray. I echo her words, actually asking Jesus into my heart.
I’m surprised at how simple it really is. And after we’re done, I feel this amazing sense of peace. “Wow,” I say as I open my eyes.
“Wow?” She looks curiously at me.
“Yeah, I think that took.”
She laughs.
“Seriously. I feel like Jesus really is inside of me now.”
“Cool!”
I lean back into the seat and let out a big sigh of relief. For the first time in ages — maybe the first time ever — I feel like I can relax. Like the weight of the world isn’t sitting on my shoulders. I tell Andrea this and she nods eagerly. “That’s because God wants to carry those things for you, Reagan. God wants you to talk to him and to tell him what’s worrying you or bugging you. And he wants
to help you get through it.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” She starts driving again. “You’ve just started what will be the most exciting journey of your life.”
She shares some more things with me and finally asks if I’d like to go visit Nana today. “I was planning on going,” she says. “We could go together, if you want.”
“Yes!” I say eagerly. “I would love to see Nana. Let’s go right now.”
So the two of us go into the nursing home together, and although it’s just as gloomy and smelly and dreary as the last time I was here, I no longer feel as depressed. I give Nana a big hug, but she doesn’t know me at first. She thinks I’m the nurse and asks me if she needs to take a pill. This makes me sad, and I realize it’s partly my fault for not having come for a while. It takes a couple of minutes before she remembers who I am, but then her face lights up in a smile.
“It’s my Reagan,” she says. “Where have you been?”
“Lots of places,” I say. Then I tell her all about how I just invited God into my heart and how happy I am about it.
“Yes,” says Nana. “Me too.”
“You mean you’re happy for me?” I ask, somewhat confused. As far as I know, Nana, like me and my mom, has never been particularly religious.
She nods, then taps her chest. “God is in me too.”
I glance curiously at Andrea and she just smiles. “That’s right, Ruth,” she says to Nana. “You did invite God into your heart, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Nana says proudly. “I did.”
“And have you been talking to God?” asks Andrea. “Have you been telling him how you feel about things?”
She nods. “He brought me breakfast.”
Andrea and I both laugh at this. Who knows? Maybe God did bring her breakfast. We stay for about an hour, but I can tell that Nana’s getting tired, and I tell her that we should go. Still, it’s so good to see her and I’m so glad that we came. I bend down and kiss her soft, wrinkly cheek, promising to come back tomorrow. Then she curls her fingers in that little wave of hers and we go.
twenty
I CAN’T HELP BUT THINK IT WAS NOT A COINCIDENCE THAT SALLY CAME OUT OF her coma about two hours after Andrea’s prayer chain started praying for her yesterday. Her mother called to tell me that last night. She sounded extremely relieved and tired. She also said that Sally would remain in the hospital for a few days while they ran some tests. I told her I would continue to pray for Sally.
Today, thanks to the local newspaper, the story of the drunken cheerleaders is all over school. By afternoon, all of the varsity squad cheerleaders except Falon, who is furious, are officially suspended. This means we will not be going to compete at state. Like I care.
“We discussed this a great deal,” Coach Anderson tells all of the cheerleaders during seventh-period cheerleading class. “Some people thought we should overlook this infraction. They thought you girls had already learned your lesson. But I feel that we need to adhere to the terms of the contract, and a suspension will be enforced. However, for those girls who are willing to attend an alcohol-diversion class, the suspension will be reduced from four weeks to only two.”
The alcohol-diversion class is designed to persuade the attendees that drinking alcohol when underage is both dangerous and wrong. I think we all get that, but we sign up anyway. All except for Sally, that is. It sounds like she won’t be at school for the rest of the week.
On Tuesday, Andrea and I go to visit her in the hospital, and we are both shocked at what we see. No longer her talkative, energetic self, this pale, quiet girl in the bed seems like a shadow of the former Sally.
“They’ve discovered that my heart has some damage,” she tells us.
“From the alcohol?” I ask.
“They’re not sure. It’s possible. Or maybe it was congenital.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
She peers curiously at Andrea now, and I can tell she wants to ask what’s up with this. So I simply tell Sally that Andrea and I are friends and that I’ve become a Christian. And she doesn’t even seem that surprised.
“My mom told me that you guys were praying for me,” she says.
“A lot of people were praying,” says Andrea.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“When will you be back at school?” I ask.
Sally just shrugs. “Maybe next week. I don’t really know. But I do know that I won’t be cheerleading ever again.”
“Because of the heart thing?”
“Yeah. But I don’t really care. It’s no big deal.”
“I’m really sorry, Sally.”
She looks at me now, long and hard, and I wonder if she’s still mad at me for taking her place with Kendra. “You know,” I tell her, hoping this will cheer her some, “Kendra and I aren’t that good of friends anymore.” Of course, that’s an understatement. Kendra isn’t even speaking to me.
“I don’t really care about that, Reagan.” She sort of laughs, but it has an empty sound. “Kendra won’t want to be friends with me either now that I can’t be a cheerleader.”
“I was actually thinking about quitting myself,” I admit.
“Oh, don’t do that.” Sally frowns. “That’s like giving up.”
I consider that. I can sort of understand her thinking, but finishing out the year on varsity squad seems like a huge mountain to climb. Still, I know that I should be praying about it. God can show me what’s best.
“I wanted to thank you, Reagan,” Sally says just before we leave. “I know that you called the paramedics … and that I would be dead now if they hadn’t come.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I tell her, sharing a little bit about the role Andrea played that night.
“Well, thanks to both of you then.” She sighs and leans her head back, closing her eyes.
“And when you’re feeling better,” I say, “I want to tell you about what happened to me and how I became a Christian. I mean, if you want to hear it.”
With her eyes still closed, she almost smiles now. “Yeah, I would like to hear that.”
A week later Sally comes to school, and although she seems a little better, she’s still not her old self. And by seventh period, she actually looks exhausted.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask as we walk into the gym together. She’s not dressed down like the rest of us, but she says she has an announcement to make.
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s been a long day.”
Sally’s announcement is that she’s quitting cheerleading. “But that’s not all,” she says. “I’ve had some time to think about a few things, and I realize I haven’t been a very nice person to many of you. I just want to say that I’m sorry. I also want to say that I wasn’t very nice to Jocelyn Matthews when she was on varsity. And I really hope she can take my place now that I have to quit. I know it’s not my decision to make, but I hope you’ll consider it.” She looks at all of us now. “And I think there are a few other girls who need to think about some of the things they’ve done too.” Then she sits down beside me.
“May I say something?” I ask Coach Anderson.
“Certainly.”
So I step forward. “I have a confession to make,” I say, avoiding Kendra’s eyes. “I had something to do with the thing that happened to Jocelyn’s uniform at homecoming. I feel really bad about it and I plan to confess it to Jocelyn. But I will totally understand if you want me to step down from cheerleading now. I think that would be fair.”
The gym is really quiet now and Coach Anderson clears her throat. “Does anyone else have anything to say?”
A couple of the other varsity squad cheerleaders make some admissions and apologies, including Meredith, who also confesses to being involved in the prank that was pulled on Jocelyn. “I’m sorry,” she says. “And I’ll apologize to Jocelyn too.”
Kendra remains quiet throughout this whole thing. And, judging by her expression, you’d think she’s the only one here who is inno
cent. At first this makes me really angry and I want to blow her cover. Instead, I say a silent prayer and ask God to help me figure out how to handle it. I have a feeling that God wants me to forgive her. If that’s the case, he’s going to have to help me. But, according to Andrea, that’s how he works.
I stop by Jocelyn’s house on my way home. Standing at her front door, I confess my part in the uniform mess and tell her that I’m really, really sorry. “I wouldn’t blame you for totally hating me.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s mad. And hurt.
“I offered to quit cheerleading,” I add. “And if Coach Anderson agrees, you can have my uniform, since we know it’ll fit you.”
“Sally called me too,” she says. “She sort of said the same thing. If everyone keeps confessing and quitting, there won’t be a varsity squad left by the end of the week.”
“Kendra is the only one keeping her mouth shut.”
“Figures.”
“Anyway, I really am sorry.”
She nods. “Yeah. You said that.”
So I take the hint and leave. I think it’s understandable that it might take Jocelyn some time to get over this. I just hope she gets reinstated as a cheerleader. I think it’s only fair. Not that fair usually happens. Especially in high school. But one can hope.
As it turns out, Coach Anderson takes me aside the following day and tells me that she doesn’t plan to remove me from the squad. Of course, this comes with a stern warning. “I’m aware that not all the cheerleaders have been forthcoming about these things.” She shakes her head. “Sometimes I just hate this job.”
Then Falon announces that we’ll vote to see if Jocelyn can be reinstated. Everyone but Kendra votes for Jocelyn to come back. Kendra abstains. “It’s a matter of principle,” she says. “I just think it was wrong for Jocelyn to swear like that in front of everyone — and at a game. It made us all look bad.”
“But it’s okay to swear and break the rules and walk all over people as long as you do it secretly?” I ask. A couple of girls snicker and Kendra just rolls her eyes and says, “Whatever.”
Harsh Pink with Bonus Content Page 17
