The Beginning (Jessica Christ Book 1)

by H. Claire Taylor

  But the snickering was already in full swing, and Jess could feel her face grow hot. So it was going to be a long day. She got that.

  “Don’t worry, Courtney,” Greg said. “You’ll become a woman someday. You can stop obsessing over it.”

  The collective snickering morphed into shocked, disbelieving cackling then, and even Jess wanted to laugh, though it was mostly from relief.

  Ms. Cantos’s head snapped toward him. “Greg! What … What is going on here?”

  Greg had just risked his status as Teacher Favorite by being mean without making Ms. Cantos laugh, that’s what was going on. Jess looked at him with new eyes. He’d taken a bullet for her.

  “Nothing, Ms. C. I’ll explain after class.”

  She looked at him like he’d somehow betrayed her, like he’d reneged on some secret deal. “You bet you will. Okay, so back to the lesson.”

  Jess glanced at Greg, and he met her gaze. Her heart started to race, and she looked away.

  Ms. Cantos began the PowerPoint, starting with Macbeth and working her way through. She was actually a cool teacher.

  Maybe she wasn’t a demon.

  But even with entrancing images of the Inferno projected onto the whiteboard, Jess wasn’t able to focus on the lesson. Instead, she was completely preoccupied with the close proximity of her new atheist protector.

  When it was time to pair up and brainstorm for the essay, Greg immediately turned toward her and cocked an eyebrow. She smiled and nodded. Maybe he was just being nice.

  Or maybe he was the next best thing to Jameson Fractal. She wasn’t sure yet.

  What would a normal teenager do?

  She would have a supermassive crush on Greg.

  By the end of the class, Jessica was pretty certain she was in love with him. He waited for her to get her things and walked with her out of the classroom. But before they made it to the door, Ms. Cantos held out her arm and stopped him. She had her eyebrows raised, the corners of her mouth rounded into a slight frown as she waited for an explanation. Greg sighed and played the part of the repentant sinner, and Jess decided the least she could do was to hang back with him and help explain what was going on.

  He led off with, “See, the thing is—”

  “Greg was just standing up for me,” she interrupted. She wanted to give credit where it was due, and explaining it to Ms. Cantos seemed a lot easier than actually thanking Greg directly. “I had, um, sort of a woman problem happen at Sandra Thomas’s house over the summer, and everyone there promised not to say anything, but …”

  Ms. Cantos nodded slowly, comprehension dawning. “Ohh … okay. Yeah, now that I think about it, I’d heard something along those lines, but I didn’t realize it was about you.”

  “Greg was just standing up for me.”

  Ms. Cantos bit her lip and turned her eyes back to Greg. It almost looked like she was holding back a smile. “Okay, fair enough.” Then she turned to Jess. “Sorry your friends are talking about that. I had something similar happen when I was about your age.”

  Jess wanted to ask, “Did it get people preaching about the apocalypse, too?” but she resisted, because she could tell Ms. Cantos was just trying to make her feel better.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry Emma decided to tell everyone about that,” Ms. Cantos added.

  Wait. Emma? Busty, queen bee Emma? “No, it was Courtney. Didn’t Courtney tell you, Greg?”

  Greg nodded. “Yeah. It definitely wasn’t Emma. She wouldn’t do that.”

  Ms. Cantos grimaced apologetically. “Um, well, yeah. Hate to say, Greg, but I overheard Emma telling people about it in the hallway today. Like I said, I didn’t hear her mention Jess specifically, but I did hear the basic story coming from her mouth.”

  Greg’s jaw went slack and his rosy cheeks lost some of their color. “I— I’ll go talk to her about that.”

  Ms. Cantos pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, you do that.” She turned to Jess. “If you need someone to bitch to, let me know.”

  While Jess appreciated the swearing, all she wanted to do was to get out of the classroom and find a reason to go home sick.

  But then if word got out that she was sick, people might ask questions, and then everyone would end up finding out she was on her period.

  Another no-win situation for Jessica McCloud. I bet Jesus never had to deal with junior high …

  “You two better go before you’re late to class.”

  Jess nodded, put her head down and headed straight for the door, not bothering to wait for Greg.

  Miranda was already in natural sciences when Jess arrived, and she moved her backpack from the desk next to hers, which she’d saved for her best friend. Mr. Harrison was going over the daily agenda by the time Jess slipped into the classroom, so she headed over to her saved seat quietly, and quickly settled in.

  “Why are you late?” Miranda whispered, looking concernedly at Jess.

  “Apparently some people can’t keep a dang secret.” It wasn’t by any means an adequate explanation, but Miranda accepted it as one nonetheless and squished up her face sympathetically.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  Miranda shook her head adamantly. “No way. Not even accidentally.”

  Jess studied her for a moment and decided to believe her.

  Then Miranda added, “I wouldn’t betray you like stupid old Sandra.”

  “Sandra?”

  “Yeah, she was telling people about it first period. I made her stop, though.”

  “Ladies in the back,” Mr. Harrison said, interrupting himself mid-sentence. “Did you have something to contribute?”

  “No, sir,” Miranda replied. Mr. Harrison was the kind of teacher you called sir. He’d taught science for nineteen years, a tidbit Jess had learned after Destinee looked at her class schedule the week before and exclaimed, “That mean old bastard? He’s still kicking? Huh. Figured he’d’ve had a heart attack by now.”

  So maybe it was Miranda’s small sign of respect or the fact that it was still early on in the first day of class, but Mr. Harrison didn’t pursue things any further, and simply finished with, “Then I suggest you pay attention so that you don’t miss anything.”

  That wouldn’t be the case, though, since Jess already knew about food chains. But she waited until his mini lecture was finished and it was time for the students to work in pairs before she decided to fill Miranda in about her knight in shining armor, though slowly at first to test the waters. She searched her memory for any previous conversations she might have had with Miranda that even mentioned Greg in passing but came up empty-handed, which meant she had no idea what Miranda’s opinion of the boy was. For that reason she went slow, even though her excitement about having a crush on someone Miranda didn’t have a crush on felt like a tight coil in her chest.

  “So I have to tell you something,” Jess said, leaning in. She knew this wasn’t really secret-worthy on the grand scale of things, but it still felt juicy.

  Miranda got excited. “Yeah? What is it?”

  “So I walk into advanced English, and Greg—you know Greg, right?”

  “Emma’s Greg?”

  It felt like sprinting smack into an invisible wall. Jess attempted to reorient herself as she stammered, “Um … I–I don’t think so.”

  “Greg Burns?”

  “Yes. That Greg.”

  “Yeah, Emma’s Greg.”

  Crap. Jess’s stomach sank. “So they’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  Miranda nodded. “As of yesterday, yes.”

  That recently? Of course. Of course she would only realize her love for Greg once he wasn’t available. And Emma of all people. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “What is it? Did you eat something weird this morning?”

  “I guess so.” How did she manage to humiliate herself without anyone even knowing what she was humiliated about? Was supernaturally bad timing part of being God’s daug
hter? It seemed so. Even though she’d never read the Bible, she knew enough about it to understand that Jesus never had such poor timing. He’d always seemed to be right where he needed to be right when he was needed.

  But here she was with the short end of the stick. Maybe all the good timing was used up on her half-brother.

  She finally had a serious crush on a boy who wasn’t famous and wasn’t Chris, and she couldn’t even tell her best friend about it. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry and then throw up or throw up and then cry.

  She raised her hand and Mr. Harrison pointed at her. “Yes?”

  “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “No, you’ll need to wait until after class.” He was about to turn back to the board before he paused and looked toward her again. “Wait, is it an emergency?” The look he gave her said it all: even Mr. Harrison knew she was on her period.

  A few of the other students snickered when she said yes, but it didn’t matter anymore, because she was able to leave class. That was all she wanted—to get out and go somewhere away from everyone.

  But she also probably needed to change her pad.

  She grabbed her backpack and headed out of the classroom, planning to hit the bathroom and then do whatever it took to get out of Marymoore Junior High for as long as possible.

  As she entered the bathroom, she shouldered past a couple of seventh graders gabbing by the sinks and parked it inside a stall, hanging her backpack up on the peg and rifling through the front compartment impatiently for a fresh maxi pad. Stupid seventh graders probably had no idea what was in store for them in the next year or so. She could just smite them and their stupid little vaginas.

  Hot angry tears began punching their way free from her eyes.

  Once she’d disposed of her used pad and replaced it with a new one, His booming voice lit up her brain and almost made her tumble off the toilet seat before she could pull up her pants.

  THERE IS NO NEED TO CRY.

  Oh God!

  YES?

  No, I mean, get out of here, I’m trying to deal with this.

  OH WOW, SORRY.

  She pulled up her pants and flushed the toilet, then headed out to wash her hands. The seventh graders had already vacated, which was a small bit of good luck, she supposed.

  Okay, I’m good.

  WHY ARE YOU CRYING?

  Because everything is the worst and nothing matters and everyone hates me.

  I KNOW THAT TO BE UNTRUE.

  Why did you lie to me?

  WHOA, WHOA … I NEVER LIED TO YOU.

  You told me I’d have one friend who would betray me, but turns out it’s all but one.

  FIRST OF ALL, I NEVER SAID ONLY ONE. SECOND OF ALL, ALL BETS ARE OFF IN EIGHTH GRADE. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT.

  That’s not fair.

  YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. JUNIOR HIGH IS THE TIME FOR EVERYONE TO LEARN THAT LIFE IS NOT FAIR. IT IS A TIME TO REFLECT ON HOW EASILY PEOPLE CAN DEVOLVE INTO ANIMALS.

  You’re starting to sound like Jimmy Dean.

  THOU SHALT NEVER MAKE THAT COMPARISON AGAIN.

  Sheesh. Okay. Sorry. Why is all of this happening?

  I THOUGHT THAT HAD BEEN EXPLAINED.

  No, I mean with my period. Why did it cause a storm and kill a bunch of cattle?

  Silence.

  God?

  Nothing.

  God!

  I’M SORRY. THAT, UH, THAT SOUNDS LIKE A QUESTION FOR YOUR MOTHER.

  “You gotta be kidding me.” You’re uncomfortable talking about menstruation?

  WELL, IT IS UNCLEAN.

  Why did you make it unclean?

  I DIDN’T. I TOLD YOU. I WAS HANDS-OFF WITH THE LADY STUFF.

  Fine. But can’t you make it clean?

  I— HUH. YEAH. I GUESS I COULD JUST DO THAT, COULDN’T I?

  Duh!

  OKAY. UH. POOF. IT’S CLEAN.

  So does that mean I won’t have it anymore?

  NO, NO. YOU’LL STILL HAVE IT.

  Then what’s changed?

  PLENTY. FOR ONE, OTHERS MAY NOW TOUCH YOU WHILE YOU’RE BLEEDING WITHOUT IT BEING A SIN.

  Wait. That was a thing?

  IT WAS ON THE BOOKS, YES.

  How did you never think to change that until now?

  I FORGOT ABOUT IT, HONESTLY.

  Of course you did. You really need to talk to more females.

  PERHAPS.

  The bathroom door opened and Mrs. Thomas walked in.

  “Everything all right?”

  Jess stared at herself in the mirror. “Not really.” She felt her mind start to clear and knew that meant God had split to leave her in peace. That was some consolation.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really. I just want it all to go away.”

  Mrs. Thomas nodded. “I understand. How about you come to my office and relax for the rest of the day, or at least until you feel like going back to class?”

  “That’s … allowed?”

  “I’m the assistant principal, I can do whatever I want.” Mrs. Thomas smiled, and Jess couldn’t help but smile back. That kind of power must be nice. Maybe one day Jess could find a way to just do whatever she wanted.

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” And she followed her out of the bathroom and toward the administrative offices.

  Mrs. Thomas had been awarded a new office space this year, it seemed, one right next door to Principal Mallard’s. It felt more like a den than an office, though, with two soft papasan chairs tucked away in a corner, lit by lamps rather than harsh fluorescent overheads. Unlike every other room at Marymoore, Mrs. Thomas’s office wasn’t overrun with neon posters shouting inspirational sayings about doing your best and being special. Jess liked that. Instead, the walls housed long canvases with painted scenes from places Jess hoped existed, because she would like to visit each of them someday.

  The scent of lavender wafting from an infuser on the desk helped calm Jess’s nerves, and she curled up into one of the scooped chairs as best she could without risking an embarrassing leak. The only part of the decor Jess wasn’t huge on were the framed pictures of Sandra and Fischer on a filing cabinet in the corner. They seemed to stare right at Jess with expressions that somehow managed to be both jovial and snobbish.

  Mrs. Thomas lowered her round body into the chair opposite, and before Jess knew it, her mouth opened and words she hadn’t planned on saying came tumbling out.

  She told Mrs. Thomas all that had happened throughout the day, surprising even herself by confessing her crush on Greg and how she found out he was with Emma. And Mrs. Thomas just nodded along, lending a sympathetic ear that was a luxury Jess had never experienced from an adult before. She imagined telling her mother the things she was telling Mrs. Thomas, and she was sure Destinee would get so upset halfway through that Jess would have to spend her energy talking her mother down rather than continuing with the gory details.

  But getting to tell the whole story without interruptions—not even from God—somehow made everything feel much more manageable.

  “Would you like to go back to class or stay here for a while?” Mrs. Thomas asked at the end of it.

  “Stay here.” It wasn’t even a choice. Jess couldn’t imagine a reality in which going back to class would be anything short of torture.

  “Okay, that’s no problem at all.” She sounded like she meant it, too. She stood from the chair and headed over to her desk. “I just need to make a quick phone call.”

  Jess nodded and let her eyes travel around the room, moving from one detailed painting to the next, while Mrs. Thomas spoke into the receiver in low tones that Jess didn’t bother herself with.

  The AP hung up the phone. “She’s on her way.”

  “Wait. Who?” This was the first she’d heard of any plan involving another she. Was her mother coming? She wanted to stay in this office for the rest of the day, not go home and have to explain everything to Destinee before starting on her bloody English essay.

  “Sandra.”


  “What? Why?”

  Mrs. Thomas looked at her like the answer was obvious. “Because she owes you an apology.”

  Oh God, not a formal apology. Those were torture. “But … she wasn’t the only one who told, so she shouldn’t have to do that.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Jess, but I’m not doing this as an AP, I’m doing this as her mother. You know Sandra can be kind of a … well, a brat. I’m sure it’s my fault as a mother, but I still have to try to correct that.”

  “It’s definitely not because of you.” Jess couldn’t imagine a better mother to have.

  Mrs. Thomas smiled. “Even if that were the case, she owes you an apology, and I’m the one to enforce that.”

  Jess felt her armpits moisten as she waited in the silent office for Sandra to arrive.

  Then finally there was a small tap on the door, and Sandra peeked her head in. As soon as she saw Jess, she bit her lip and looked down toward the floor as she entered.

  While Jess stayed glued in her chair—due mostly to fear of what downpour might happen between her legs if she stood—Mrs. Thomas crossed the room to stand in front of her daughter, who was almost the same height after a late summer growth spurt. “Do you know why you’re in here?”

  Sandra nodded.

  “Well then?”

  Sandra sighed and turned slightly to face Jess. It was strange to look at Slinking Sandra right in front of her and Smirking Sandra peeking out from a picture frame over Slinking Sandra’s shoulder. Jess’s brain couldn’t make much sense of it, other than she didn’t like it.

  “I’m sorry I told people about you starting your period at my party.”

  “Um. It’s okay. I forgive you.”

  Sandra’s posture immediately jolted straight, her shoulders rolling back like someone had poured ice water down her spine. Her eyes shot open, too, and she stared at Jess with a mixture of fear and awe. “Whoa.”

  Jess was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

  “I could feel that!”

  “Feel what?”

  “It was like … sparkles!”

  No more surprises! Please, God, no more surprises. “I don’t understand.”

  “Say it again!” Sandra demanded, like a brat.

  “Say what again?”

  “That you forgive me!” Sandra bounced on her toes.