Little Do We Know(23)

Then he pressed PLAY and we sat there, watching and listening, pausing when we heard something interesting and taking note of the time stamp. When we got to Skylar’s story, I found myself listening even closer than I had during the others’. It wasn’t her story about her struggle with her mental health, it was the other things she’d said in the interview, about how the people at Covenant made her feel welcome, even though she wasn’t religious.

When she’d said it in the Grove that day, Bailee had turned to her in disbelief. “You’re not a Christian?”

“Nope,” Skylar said matter-of-factly. “Never have been.”

“What are you?” Kevin had asked.

“Nothing, I guess. Why? Does it matter?”

Everyone looked away from her, shifting positions, and I could tell it was getting uncomfortable. Faith, or rather, lack thereof, was one of the things people at Covenant were especially judgmental about. If Skylar hadn’t noticed, it was because people had kept their opinions to themselves, not because they didn’t have any.

Now, Aaron laughed under his breath as he paused the tape. “Maybe we cut that part.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I doubt Dad would consider that a key recruiting message.”

Aaron highlighted that section of the video and pressed the delete button, and Skylar’s words were gone, as if they never existed.

“I wonder what that’s like.” I hadn’t meant to say it. I was thinking aloud. I wasn’t really looking for an answer, but since Aaron was the only person in the room, he obviously took it that way.

“What, to not be a Christian?”

“No, not just that. Everything. How can you listen to Dad in Monday Chapel, and hear all the things our teachers tell us in class, and not believe in any of it?”

“Skylar seems comfortable with the whole thing.” Aaron opened a new file and started pulling all the segments we’d flagged into an empty video screen. “I’ve always been kind of fascinated by what other people believe. Or the fact that they don’t believe anything at all. Haven’t you?”

I never would have used the word fascinated. Curious, maybe, and if I was being totally honest with myself, not even that until recently, when Emory and I got in our fight and she accused me of never having an original thought of my own.

As soon as I let Emory’s words in, the rest of them flooded in, too, swirling around in my mind, growing louder and louder.

It’s easy to just agree with your dad, isn’t it? Why think for yourself when you don’t have to?

My heart started pounding faster.

You have a blind spot when it comes to your dad, Hannah. You’ll believe anything he says. Believe anything he believes. When was the last time you had an opinion that was entirely your own?

My stomach knotted into a fist, and I twisted in my seat, trying to loosen it.

You’re a fucking sheep.

“You okay?” Aaron asked.

My eyes snapped open, and I realized my hands were pressed into the sides of my head. “Yeah,” I said, slowly lowering them.

“Hey. It’s okay. Whatever it is.”

I nodded, even though it wasn’t okay. Nothing she’d said to me that morning was okay.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I could feel the blood rising into my chest, past my cheeks, and settling into the tips of my ears. I shook my head, but deep down, I wanted to tell him. I hadn’t talked to anyone about what happened between Emory and me that day. Not Mom. Not Alyssa. And even though I couldn’t tell him the big reason we’d fought, I was dying to release the words she’d said, because they’d been trapped in my mind for months and sometimes they felt like they were multiplying and preparing to take over.

Aaron twisted on the stool, facing me, and leaned in closer. I stared at him, realizing I wasn’t quite as angry with him as I had been earlier that week. After all, I’d known him for months but I’d only been mad at him for a week. And in all fairness, I didn’t have much reason to be. He might have been the reason I lost my tuition, but he was still Aaron. I liked him. I trusted him. And I really needed someone to talk to.

“It’s about my neighbor, Emory. You don’t know her.” I glanced around the sound booth to be sure we were alone, even though I already knew we were. “We’ve lived next door to each other all our lives. We’ve been best friends since, well, forever. But we got in a fight a couple months ago. It was horrible. And I said something I shouldn’t have said, and she said something she shouldn’t have said….”

I played with my fingernails nervously. Aaron was watching me, waiting patiently, silently giving me permission to keep going.

“Anyway.” I took a deep breath. “What she said to me that day made me start questioning things. My faith mostly. I started seeing my life a little differently. I started hearing my dad differently. And I stopped praying, because…well, I don’t really know why. It just didn’t seem to be doing any good anyway.”

The room got silent. I glanced up at him, wishing I hadn’t said anything. What was the point? I knew what Aaron was going to say before he opened his mouth. He was going to tell me that prayer works. That I needed it now more than ever. That my faith was my foundation, and all I had to do was believe that God was working on it. I just had to be patient.