No One Will Ever Find Out

by EA Young

Chapter 5

  Another surprise was in store for us after our math test. Instead of final periods, we were all going to church. The entire grade school formed two lines in the hallway and our principal stood before it.

  Our class was the last in line, so we were positioned in front, close to her, a position that I hated.

  My head still pounded from all those math questions that I couldn’t answer. During the exam I thought the ceiling would explode from all that hot, tense air in one room.

  The principal moved in closer, making my skin crawl even more. Sister Catherina had been principal for a year and not one month had passed in which I hadn’t been sent to her office because of my grades.

  The tallest nun I had ever known, Sister Catherina’s black habit flowed as far down as her waist—at least I think that was her waist. Long thin fingers poked out from their dark sleeves. Her soul-searching pale green eyes as if they were only staring at me. Her robe swayed each time she moved as if she were floating on air or on one of heaven’s clouds.

  I watched Sister Catherina float to the front of the line and prop the stairway doors open, the dark habit spiraling down her back. What color was her hair? Did she have hair? Was it all cottony white and curled around—

  “I want two straight lines and complete silence as we enter the side vestibule,” she announced, turning to face the stairs.

  A classmate searched the area as we were led down. “Are we going to have to go to confession too?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Is today some saint’s birthday?”

  Another classmate, Jerice, shook her head no.

  “See? I knew they’d do this,” Tanya cut in as the lines slowed down by the doors to the auditorium. “Wait till after we take the math test to send us off to pray! What’s the point now, the damage is done!” Her round face hardened.

  We crossed the auditorium and entered the dark narrow hall that led to a side vestibule.

  “This isn’t a holiday,” Tanya whispered. “You know of any saints we celebrate in May?”

  “Well there’s Saint Philip, Saint James Minor, Saint Athanasius,” Jerice rolled on, “Saint Hilary, Saint John, Saint Benedict, the Rogation Days, Holy Thursday—”

  “Are you going to be a nun when you grow up?” I asked her.

  “No!” she blurted, frightened by the thought.

  Silently, except for our shoes striking the waxed floor, we entered the church. Dim lights and candles guided us up the main aisle, where we passed small groups of people, briefly knelt, and stepped into the front pews.

  The organ was played, signaling us to stand as Father Farrin marched to the altar and began the service.

  I still wondered why we were in there. School would be over soon and there were no more holidays until next year. Soon my eyes wandered.

  This church could have been plucked right out of a history book on the Middle Ages. Crowds of tiny flames flickered in every corner making shadows of saints dance along the stone walls. Above the aisles a small row of windows uncovered a hidden pathway that disappeared behind the tabernacle. Stained-glass windows brightly reflected scenes from the Bible. Shapes burst from walls, the tops of columns, and ceilings as if they were suddenly frozen in time.

  Thinking of all the fairy tales I had read, I waited for a princess in a long white gown to appear in one of the narrow pathways, searching the castle for her maid to help dress her for the ball tonight—

  Tanya yanked my jumper.

  Everybody had already sat down, and I was the only one left standing. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise as I lowered myself into the pew.

  I glimpsed around at the other students, who were fidgeting, and whispering, and attracting stern looks from the teachers. At least it didn’t feel hot and sticky like it did in the classroom.

  The church was air-conditioned, and the stone walls kept the cool air in and the hot springtime air outside. I watched sunlight sparkle against the stained-glass windows.

  If any of the air conditioners were attached to a window, they were probably dripping water onto the sidewalks, where in minutes the droplets would evaporate on the hot asphalt. I leaned my head against the pew.

  Summer was getting closer and closer. Adventure was waiting right outside those cool stone walls.

  I glimpsed over at Jerice as we recited the Apostles’ Creed. Every year in June she was the first in our class to get a sunburn. I always wanted to ask her: Was the sand hot yet? Was the water cold? Were the waves high? I wondered which beach her family would go to first.

  I smiled as we sat down and Father Farrin began his sermon. Gazing directly at the grade school, he thundered, “Education! The desire to learn.” He clenched one fist. “To have the opportunity that so many children in deprived countries can only dream of . . . .”

  Stunned, we looked at each other. Sister Catherina sat like a rock. The few adults in the church eyed us in admiration.

  I grabbed the missal and thumbed through. Where was this talk of education in the Bible?

  “And here I stand, seeing before me,” Father raised his arms out to us, “such an accomplished bright group of students, and teachers who I know are as pleased and excited to celebrate with you as we come to the end of another school year.

  “As you and your friends depart to discover and face new challenges,” he raised his forefinger, “carrying the memories you’ve created within those classroom walls, and leaving behind the uncertainty that only ignorance breeds, I want you to remember every little accomplishment you have made in your life when times get hard and you feel like giving up.”

  He hesitated. “Those small accomplishments are as important as the big ones, sometimes even more. All that you can ask of yourself is that you do your best.” He looked around at everyone in a sweeping glance.

  “Now, do you feel ready for the next challenge?” he asked.

  I settled down in my seat.

  “You should! All that hard work and perseverance, you should feel very confident. Your performance, at this early age, is one of the first stages in determining how well you will decide to perform throughout your entire lives.”

  He pointed at us. “Opening your minds to knowledge is not only the best way to divert boredom, but it is also a way of preparing yourself for what may come in the future. These lessons are now your own tools to keep and draw upon. Understand that what it gave you, no one can take away. It will open many doors for you in this world that we share.”

  Tanya looked at me and sighed. What did we do to deserve this?

  I bowed my head, wondering if my sins were floating up to heaven right now. They must have been and God responded by sending down this sermon.

  I raised my head again. Everybody was restless. One kid banged the back of his shoes against the seat in front of him, until a teacher rested her hand on his shoulder to make him stop. Another kept twisting a braid around her wrist, tightly. Sister Catherina remained still, leaning her head to one side and watching Father Farrin.

  He looked so tiny in front of the church. He was the only living thing, from this world anyway, moving up there.

  “Therefore, always remember, my children, this gift of knowledge must not be taken for granted. Respect it, earn it, use it. Now, I want you to promise me you’ll go out there and have a great summer vacation. You’ve earned it. In the Name of the Father . . .”

  Relief flooded the entire student body.

  “Brother, I thought it’d never end,” Tanya grumbled.

  “This is the first two hour service I’ve ever been to,” Jerice exaggerated, rubbing her backside.

  I shook my legs to bring back some circulation. I couldn’t wait for Communion to come so I could get up and move around a little.

  As Father Farrin stepped forward with the Host, the majority of the students remained seated. I didn’t know who they thought they were fooling because we all had our first communion in first grade.

  Stepping over feet, I followed Tany
a to the aisle. Jerice was the only one behind me.

  Sister Catherina strolled to the front of the aisle, crossed her arms, and let her power shine down on the rest of the grade school. In a flash everybody crammed up in line. Teachers had to straighten out the mob of students. After receiving communion every pew was empty. I trailed Tanya down about 10 rows and stopped. She kept walking to the back of the church.

  Jerice bumped me from behind. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I can’t find my seat.”

  “Just go on.”

  I felt my heart racing again. “I can’t remember where we were sitting!” I stared at the endless line of empty pews.

  The class started coming back and filling up seats.

  “No, un unh! Get up!”

  “That’s not your seat!”

  “It is so!”

  “Move!”

  “I was sitting there!”

  “You’re not now!”

  “Wheeeerrrree’s my seat!” I cried, getting shoved.

  “She hit me! Automatic detention!”

  Before I knew anything else, I was crushed against Sister Catherina’s dark robe. Eyes bulged, teeth clenched, she bellowed, “SIT DOWN!”

  Everybody scrambled into a pew. I sauntered back, rubbing my nose. The few adult worshipers in the church flashed cold stares as they returned to their seats. The teachers remained standing in the aisles to keep order.

  Father frowned waiting for silence. Then he stood up. “The mass has ended, all go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

  “Thanks be to God,” the congregation responded.

  Quietly and quickly we departed.

  Jerice leaned over my shoulder. “She’s really upset now,” she whispered, nodding her head toward Sister Catherina. “I never knew a nun’s skin could turn so many different colors.”

  After we were dismissed for the day, I was glad to finally be riding home on the bus. I sat next to an open window, closed my eyes, and let the fresh air run up my nostrils and break the sweat from my forehead.

  “Wake up!” Tanya prodded, tapping the back of my neck.

  “What do you want?” I watched her reflection through the glass.

  “I want to know what you wrote on your math test.” She peeled open a packet full of sunflower seeds.

  “Don’t talk to me about that thing,” I muttered.

  “Well how do you think you did?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” I closed my eyes again.

  “You might not have done as bad as all that,” she said.

  I swung around. “You have to have answers written down in order for it to count, don’t you?”

  “Well all you have to do is guess,” she said, popping sunflower seeds into her mouth and spitting out the empty shells at the same time. “Look at the numbers on your question and find the group of numbers that blend in the most with that question. If it’s a bunch of even numbers then the answer will be even. If there are more odd numbers then the answer will be odd.”

  I gawked at her. “How’re you going to do that with the metric system?”

  “The same way you would with any other system,” she argued. “There’re numbers in the metric system, aren’t there?”

  Shaking my head, I leaned back against the window. “It’s the mouth,” I muttered. “It’s always that mouth.”

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Is that what you wrote on your test?” Courtney asked her. “That doesn’t work. You can’t guess an answer when it comes to measurements. Either you know it or you don’t.”

  “When did I say I didn’t know it?” Tanya asked.

  “You just said it now,” Courtney argued. “You said you guessed the answers.”

  “That doesn’t mean I didn’t know it.”

  Courtney clicked her teeth and wrapped her arms around her backpack.

  Tanya and I looked at her. With her lips shut tight, Courtney kept staring at the front of the bus.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Tanya asked her.

  Courtney brushed that question off with a wave of her hand.

  I sat quietly, wondering why the air around us still felt strange like it did in the church.