The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(102)
The seniors claimed the decision was an example of how they wanted to establish a fresh spirit of inclusion. That it went along with their senior class motto, “Equality, Inclusiveness, Fraternity, and Sorority for all.” Mark said that if they had only added “World Peace,” they would have achieved the most politically correct motto of all time. Instead, they had to settle for the stupidest.
Heather thought the decision had nothing to do with the senior class motto and everything to do with the utter failure of her junior class’s spring fund drive. In the end, since the junior class funded the prom, it came down to a choice of canceling the senior trip and using that money to pay for the prom, canceling the prom, or charging admission to a larger audience.
Whatever the reason behind the decision, Heather knew she’d just have to put up with a bunch of freshmen and sophomores, without letting it ruin her evening.
“So, have you been invited yet?” asked Jennifer, plopping down beside Heather.
“No, but I’m pretty sure that Raul plans on inviting me this evening. He asked me to come over to his house for a while after school today.”
“Oh, really? You sure he doesn’t just want some help with his homework?”
Heather laughed. “I don’t think so. He said it was important and that he wanted to talk to me in private.”
“What time are you going?”
“Six o’clock, why?”
“Heather! Did you forget that we’re getting together to test out Dad's new barbeque grill at seven? The one our dads are so excited about?”
Heather slapped her palm to her forehead. “I completely forgot. I promised my mom I’d help her get ready, too. I guess I could drop by Raul’s house a couple of hours early. You don’t think he’d mind, do you?”
“Are you kidding me? He’s a guy. He'll love it no matter what time you show up.”
By the time the bus pulled to a stop near their houses, Heather and Jennifer had pretty much covered every aspect of what Heather planned on wearing to the prom, curfews, and other weighty matters.
As for Jennifer, she hadn’t been invited to the prom and didn’t plan on attending in any event. First, there were no boys in which she had any current interest. Second, dancing had never been something that she felt any inclination to learn, and no amount of encouragement or cajoling from Heather had been able to put a dent in her resolve on that matter.
“Well, I have to run. If I’m going to bike over to Raul’s and get back here by five thirty to help Mom, then I’d better get going.”
“Okay. See you then.”
The bike ride to Raul’s house left Heather breathless, although part of it probably had to do with the anticipation of what she was sure was coming. She knew Raul liked her, and as odd as he could be sometimes, she liked him back.
Of course, he might have wanted to talk to her for some other reason than inviting her to her first high school prom. Heather had considered this possibility, but since the odds that she was being invited to the prom were roughly 97.653 percent, her anticipation seemed justified.
Heather pulled her bike up to the steps that led to the overhanging front porch of Raul’s house, dropped the kickstand, and walked up to ring the bell. The three gongs of the doorbell reminded her of the rest of the house. It wasn’t fancy, but gave ample evidence of the meticulous pride that its owners felt. The Spanish curtains in the windows and the beautiful potted geraniums on the porch were stunning.
After several seconds and no response, Heather thought about ringing the bell again, then decided against it. If someone was in the house, they would have heard it.
Odd. There were several cars in the driveway. As far as she knew, the Rodriguez family only owned two cars, and neither of these currently occupied the carport or the driveway. Who did all these other cars belong to, and where were the owners?
Then Heather remembered. This was the afternoon when Raul hosted his regular after-school Bible study group. She didn’t want to interrupt, but how long could it take?
Moving around the house toward the small guest quarters where Raul said he conducted his sessions, Heather decided that she would wait outside for a while. After all, she had nothing else to do until it was time to go meet Jennifer.
Heather had never actually been around to the guest quarters, having only been inside Raul’s house on one occasion, an evening when she had been invited over for dinner and a round of dominoes. On that night, Heather had hoped to work her way past the stiff formality, perhaps even suspicion, with which Raul’s parents seemed to regard her. And although the atmosphere in the household had been far from what could be considered welcoming, at least she felt tolerated. Progress was nothing to be sneered at.
The guesthouse was not at all what she expected. It looked like a small chapel, the kind you sometimes saw along the road outside of very small towns; a place where people could stop, light a candle, and offer up prayers to the saint of their choosing. At least that’s what Heather imagined people did in those chapels.
The door bore the image of a cross, complete with bleeding Jesus, and the windows were stained glass. Heather walked around the building. The back wall was windowless, but had a single door, its window blackened out.
For some reason, the site of the plain door with that little blacked-out window filled Heather with irrational dread. She knew that her reaction was stupid, so stupid it made her angry. What was wrong with her? Just walking around the building made her as frightened as a little girl climbing down a ladder into the darkness of grandma's cellar, her small hand searching for the pull-cord that dangled from the naked bulb in the ceiling.