The Right and the Real

by Joëlle Anthony

  Each of the pledges stepped forward to sign the paper. My dad was at the end of the line, and the closer he got to the podium, the more rage and panic welled up inside me. I considered trying to drag him outside, where the cold January air might somehow miraculously clear his head, but before I could act, he signed his free will away with a flourish of the pen. He smiled brightly at Mira, a glazed look in his green eyes, his balding head shiny from the hot lights. And then he took his place beside her, ready for the wedding.

  chapter 2

  THE TEACHER TURNED TO THE BRIDESMAIDS WHO had pledged. “And now you may sign,” he said to them. The girls stepped forward, their eyes revealing that same blank submissiveness so many of the women had here. The first girl signed her name and then she lifted up her face to the Teacher, and he laid his hands on either side of her head. I seriously thought he was going to kiss her on the lips, but instead, he murmured something and laid a wet one on her forehead. Still, totally gross. I swear I heard the juicy smack. I was still standing there, reeling in disgust, when the Teacher snapped me out of it by saying my name.

  “Jamie?” He motioned me to the podium.

  “What?”

  “Please sign.”

  “Oh, no.…”

  He looked at my father, and so did I. Dad nodded at me.

  “Ummm…no,” I said. “I’m not signing the Pledge. I’m just a bridesmaid.” And after those kisses he gave the others, I wasn’t going near him.

  The Teacher smiled, but anger flared in his eyes. “You’re a member of our flock and over the age of thirteen. It’s time you committed to us.”

  “I can’t.” It came out weak and unconvincing, even to me.

  “Jamie,” Dad said, “sign the Pledge so we can begin our new family under God’s guidance.”

  I stood where I was, feet planted, growing roots through the ugly gold carpet right down into the concrete below. They couldn’t make me sign. In three months, I’d be a legal adult.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t believe. I mean, I believe in God, but not the Pledge.”

  A murmur ran through the crowd. I knew the microphone had picked up what I’d said and amplified it. Josh was the only person in the whole room who wouldn’t hold it against me. I didn’t want to think about what his parents would say.

  “Your father is the master of his daughter,” the Teacher said to me. “And he has spoken. Step forward and sign the Pledge or prepare to be recognized no more as a daughter of this true believer.”

  This was unreal. Prepare to be recognized no more? It sounded like a line from a straight-to-video release. If nothing else, that one phrase should’ve broken the spell and made my dad laugh at the absurdity of it. I couldn’t be the only one who could see through this charade.

  When I didn’t move, the Teacher turned again to my father. The members shifted in their seats, trying to see what would happen. Everyone wanted to know who would give in first.

  “Your daughter needs your guidance,” the Teacher said to Dad.

  “Jamie, look at me.” Dad met my eyes, and anger filled his voice. “You cannot expect Mira to come and live with a sinner.”

  His words stabbed as deeply into my heart as if he’d used a real knife. I was his only child, and he’d rescued me from a drug-addicted mother. He knew how much I needed him.

  Dad crossed over to me and whispered fiercely in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Jamie Lexington-Cross, do not ruin this for me.”

  “But…I can’t.…”

  “Sign the Pledge,” he said, moving closer to the microphone as if he wanted everyone to hear. “If you don’t sign, I will be forced to choose between you and Mira.”

  “You wouldn’t choose her,” I said, the words barely audible.

  The Teacher looked out over the congregation and said directly into the mic, “It is only fair to tell you, Jamie, a husband in the Right & the Real Church always chooses God first, and then his wife. Rebellious children before you have been excommunicated so they do not poison the flock.”

  The Teacher could hardly kick me out, since I wasn’t part of his demented church. Still…I knew from the past few weeks that Dad would do whatever the church told him to do. He’d already quit his job as an ad salesman at the newspaper because the Teacher made him believe his new path lay in serving God. Now he spent his days in their office creating reading material that was, as far as I was concerned, sheer propaganda for the ministry.

  I couldn’t risk losing my father. I took two steps toward the podium, telling myself it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I signed. I’d pretend it was another role in a play. I could act like a believer if I had to. Josh had done it, and he hadn’t changed.

  The Teacher held out the gold pen to me with what looked like a real smile, but I didn’t believe it. I took it, my hand shaking. My father nodded curtly at me. I pressed the pen to the paper, and I’d already written Jamie when Dad’s words skittered through my mind again. If you don’t sign, I will be forced to choose between you and Mira. Of course Dad wanted me to sign—it would make everything easier for him. He knew he’d choose me. He always had. If I refused, though…well, he’d have to forget Mira, and I’d get him back.

  I drew a line through my name and dropped the pen. “I can’t do it, Dad,” I said.

  When he didn’t step forward immediately and tell me it was okay, I didn’t know what to do except leave and hope he’d follow. All the way down the aisle, my slippery plastic shoes clacked against the linoleum floor. Choose me, choose me, choose me.

  I heard murmurings from the congregation and tried to block them out. Did she sign? Where’s she going? What happened? The heat from the lights beat down, making me sweat. I wanted to get out of there fast, and it took everything I had to simply walk, but I wouldn’t give the Teacher the satisfaction of running me out of his stupid church.

  In the parking lot, the cold wind hit me like a slap to the face. I stood outside, freezing in my thin cotton dress, knowing Dad would come. Goose bumps rose on my arms as I waited, and I hugged myself to stay warm. And then I heard the choir start to sing again.

  It doesn’t mean anything. He’ll still choose you in the end. He’s not strong enough to walk out in front of all those people, I reassured myself. Even if he married Mira tonight, it would be okay. By the time they got back from the beach on Monday, he’d have realized he’d made a huge mistake. We’d be fine. We had to be.

  I snuck back inside and got my purse and coat from the meeting room. Dad and Mira weren’t taking a real honeymoon right now because they planned to go on a three-week church retreat in the summer. Tonight and tomorrow night, they were staying at a bed and breakfast and I was sleeping over at Krista’s house. She had my SUV, and I’d ridden to the church with Dad and Mira. I texted her to come get me.

  Shivering outside the R&R, I tried to tell myself I was just cold, but it felt more like that deep-inside-you shakiness from fear rather than from the weather. Part of me still hoped Dad would come after me, but I was also a little afraid that if he did, he might bring disciples with him to drag me back inside, so I stood in the shadows. The doors stayed firmly closed, though, and a little piece of my heart cracked. I held my breath to keep from giving in to racking sobs, but I couldn’t stop tears from running silently down my face.

  The overcast night should’ve made my surroundings dark and foreboding to match my mood, but instead, the church parking lot glowed like the Main Street Electrical Parade at Disneyland. Dozens of security lights flooded the church grounds, bouncing off windshields and mud puddles.

  The concrete building stood on what had once been a strawberry field between Portland and the city of Gresham. Off to the right of the parking lot, two guards protected the entrance to the trailer park and the driveway leading to the Teacher’s mansion. A six-foot fence with three rows of barbed wire encircled the residential compound.

  Josh’s dad was one of the disciples, and his family lived in a double-wide trailer about th
ree-quarters of the way down the little gravel road. Once, when his parents had gone away on a mission trip, he’d convinced the guards I’d come over for Bible study. Instead, we’d watched movies and eaten frozen pizza with Derrick.

  I thought about walking out to the street to meet Krista, but I stayed put in case Josh managed to make some excuse to his parents and came to check on me. And then, like I’d conjured him up, I felt his hand on my arm. I whirled around to face him. “Oh, I’m so glad—”

  “Jamie. You shouldn’t have done that in there,” he said. “You should’ve just signed. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “But I thought if I refused, Dad would choose me.”

  “They’ll never let him choose you,” Josh said. “The Teacher has plans for your dad’s inheritance.”

  I didn’t know for sure how much my grandpa had left Dad when he died last year, but I found it hard to believe it was more than five or six hundred thousand dollars total. And Grandpa had set it up in a trust that would only pay Dad a small allowance each month for the rest of his life, because sometimes he wasn’t the most responsible guy in the world, and Grandpa knew it.

  “It’s not a lot of money, Josh.”

  From the first day Dad had gone to the church, he’d flaunted his wealth, putting a hundred-dollar bill in the collection plate. I knew he’d done it so they’d notice him—and, boy, did they ever.

  “My parents told me the Teacher got your dad to sign a monthly pledge to the church,” Josh said.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  He shifted his weight and wouldn’t meet my eye. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “We’re talking about my life here, Josh. You should’ve told me.”

  “I know.…”

  Krista’s headlights swung across the entrance to the church, lighting up Josh’s face, making him look ghostly. His hand shot out, and he yanked me to him, kissing me so hard he bruised my lips against his teeth. Then he shoved me away.

  “Jamie,” he said, “forgive me.”

  “For what?” I asked. But he’d already slipped back inside the church.

  chapter 3

  I ALMOST RAN AFTER JOSH, BUT KRISTA BEEPED the horn. “Get in,” she shouted over the music. “I just got it warm in here.”

  Once inside, I held my frozen hands up to the heater. Grandpa had left the Beast to me last year when he’d died, but I drove only when I had to. I know teens are supposed to be all excited about having their own car, but I wasn’t at all. The Beast was so huge, it reminded me of the time I rode on a giant tractor on a school field trip to a farm. When I drove, I was afraid I’d crush some pedestrian or flatten a cyclist as I lumbered along. New York City rocked because I could walk or take the subway everywhere, and I could hardly wait until Krista and I moved there next year for school.

  Krista loved everything about my SUV, though, from its all-leather interior to the custom floor mats and fantastic sound system. When I asked Dad if she could drive it, he said he didn’t mind as long as she didn’t get a ticket. She’d been hauling us around ever since. The Beast was almost more hers than mine.

  “Wow,” I said, checking out Krista’s clothes. Sometimes it was hard to believe I used to dress just as crazy as she did.

  “You like?” she asked.

  We’d stopped at a light, and she turned so I could get a better look at her getup. She’d obviously been sewing, because she’d pulled her long hot-pink hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of her way.

  “For you,” I said, “it’s way cool. For me, not so much anymore.”

  She laughed. She’d taken my new “generic look,” as she called it, in stride. Her wardrobe changed pretty fast because she could sew so well. She was always ripping out seams and putting things back together into new outfits. Tonight she had on what looked like a paper bag made of metallic purple material, long-underwear bottoms, combat boots, and lace fingerless gloves.

  “I call it Boy George meets Prince,” she said, stomping on the gas when the light changed.

  Before Krista’s obsession with eighties glam fashion, she’d been totally into the seventies, and I’d pretty much gone along with whatever she wanted to do. But way back in freshman year, we’d both dressed in vintage nineteen-forties. I kind of missed the seamed stockings and elegant fitted dresses, but as a future designer, she had to keep mixing up her look.

  “The only problem,” she said, “is I can’t get it off without help because the sleeves are straight-pinned on. I’ll end up stabbing myself.”

  I laughed in spite of the sinking feeling in my gut. I planned to tell Krista everything when we got to her house, but I didn’t like to distract her when she was driving. Especially if she had straight pins sticking out of her clothes.

  What a crazy night. I wondered what Josh meant, forgive me.…

  “How come you’re done so early?” Krista said. She bobbed her head in time to a rap song. “Boring reception?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Should we get ice cream?” she asked.

  I looked down at my bridesmaid dress. “We’re not exactly dressed to go out,” I said.

  She laughed. “Maybe you’re not, but I look good.” She was right, of course. She could pull anything off. Most people thought she was really cool, not weird at all. “Drive-through coffee?” she suggested instead.

  “Can we just go back to your house?”

  She turned the stereo down. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really. But I want to change into my pajamas and get warm. Then I’ll tell you, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  Krista’s bedroom looked like a working design studio. She had a sewing machine in one corner, a drafting table by the window, and an ironing board attached to the wall. In her closet, her clothes were hung by color and her shoes sat lined up neatly on racks.

  The twin beds sported hot-pink and purple comforters with a ton of throw pillows she had made herself with bargain fabrics. She also had two matching beanbags with a fuzzy rug and a TV in one corner. Instead of books, her shelves were stuffed with beauty magazines. Krista practically ran the costume shop at the theater, but what she really wanted to do after high school was study fashion at Beaumont Design in New York.

  After changing into pajamas and covering my lap with a plush blanket because I couldn’t seem to shake the chills, we sat down to talk about my evening. I held Krista’s hand and painted her fingernails a sparkly silver. Focusing on my task gave me distance from everything as we hashed over the details again and again. Krista’s one of those eternally optimistic people, and usually she can talk me out of my low moods, so I was counting on her tonight.

  “The idea the Teacher thinks he’s Christ resurrected is so unbelievably creepy,” she said.

  “I know. The whole place is just freaky.”

  “That’s what you get for dating a boy outside the theater department,” she said lightly.

  I knew she was only half kidding, though. She’d never thought much of Josh because he thought she was weird. After I finished her nails, I sat on her bed trying not to think while she sent texts to her fashionista friends in New York. I picked at the last piece of pizza, but couldn’t force myself to eat any of it. The time on my cell changed from 11:16 to 11:17. Every time I slept over at Krista’s, my dad called to check in. Tonight my phone sat ominously silent. When it changed to eighteen after, I kind of lost it. I wrinkled up my face, squinting my eyes, in this weird way I do when I’m trying not to cry, but it didn’t help.

  Krista abandoned her texting. “It’ll be okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around me while trying to keep her still-tacky fingernails clear of contact. “You’ll see. By the time they get back from the beach, he’ll be all relaxed and happy, and everything will be fine.”

  “But he didn’t call,” I said. “It’s like he’s totally abandoned me for Mira.”

  “I don’t want to gross you out or anything,�
� Krista said, “but it is his wedding night. He’s probably kind of busy.”

  “Oh, yuck. Yuck! Don’t say that!” I couldn’t help it, I laughed. And then I shoved her off the bed. “Gross! Why did you have to remind me?” I demanded.

  She grabbed her laptop. “Come on,” she said, “let’s look for apartments on Craigslist. That’ll cheer you up.”

  We wouldn’t need a place in New York for another eight months, but checking out the listings was one of our favorite pastimes. It made our future real somehow.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “Start with the luxury ones. They’re more fun.”

  We spent the next day vegging in front of reruns of America’s Next Top Model. Krista critiqued the clothes from head to toe, and I mostly zoned out. I think I might have dozed a bit. I wanted to call Josh, but he’s not allowed to use his phone on Sundays. He can’t watch TV or IM on the computer, either. It was an R&R rule, and his parents held him to it.

  “What do you think he meant by ‘forgive me’?” I asked Krista during a commercial.

  “The same thing I thought the last fifty-seven times you asked me,” she said. She grabbed a bag of chips out of my lap. “He thought he upset you by saying the church wanted to keep your dad in their clutches.”

  I sighed. “Yeah…you’re probably right.”

  “I’m always right,” she said, grinning at me. She hit the volume on the remote, and we both sang along with the latest Gap commercial. She covered the melody, and as usual, I did some awesome harmony.

  By the time we finished the homework we’d ignored all day, it was almost midnight. I’d left Dad three messages, all light and cheerful, telling him I’d see him after school on Monday, but he never called back. I wasn’t too worried about it anymore, though. Krista had convinced me it would all blow over.

  We made our usual stop at the bathroom by the theater wing, and while Krista checked out her makeup, Liz glided gracefully into the vicinity like the dancer she is.