Little Do We Know(7)

I leaned forward, waving at Jack and Logan in the seats next to Alyssa. They were sharing a pair of earbuds and watching a YouTube video of another competitive a cappella choir on Jack’s phone. “Morning,” Logan said.

I reached into my backpack for the flash cards I made for my chemistry test and began thumbing through them. I was only on the second card when Alyssa sat up taller and pointed at the stage. “Ooh, look. My future husband got a sexy new haircut over the weekend.”

Aaron stepped onto the stage wearing a light blue Covenant Christian T-shirt with jeans and a pair of black Toms. He took his guitar out of the stand and brought it with him to the bench next to the pulpit. He didn’t have his usual baseball cap on; I assumed that was because he wanted to show off his new haircut.

I hadn’t thought much about Aaron, but that was probably because Alyssa thought enough about him for herself, and me, and, like, six other people. Not that I had any problem seeing Aaron the way Alyssa did. He was definitely cute. And confident, but not cocky or anything. Which made him even more adorable. But when I saw him onstage, all I could think about were those words Mom had said the day before. “Aaron’s been a huge asset to the church and the school, but he was an expensive hire.”

Translation: I would be going to BU next year if it weren’t for him.

“I have to study,” I said to Alyssa, tapping my fingernail against my flash cards.

She plucked them from my hand. “What could possibly be more important than my future husband’s sexy new hair?”

“World hunger. The roles of women in developing countries.” I grabbed my flash cards back. “Me not failing Chem.”

Alyssa looked back at the stage, and I followed her gaze. Aaron shuffled through a stack of sheet music on the bench next to him. Then his eyes flicked toward the front row. He tipped his chin toward us and grinned.

I glared at him.

When he looked away again, Alyssa slapped my arm. “Did you see the way he just smiled at me? That boy’s mine.”

I laughed under my breath. “Boy?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Stop saying that. He’s not that much older than me.”

“He’s five years older than you!”

“Four,” she corrected. “I’ll be eighteen next month.”

“Whatever. He’s still practically our teacher.”

“He won’t be in June,” she said with a wink.

The sanctuary lights dimmed and the stage lights came on. I used to cringe at what came next, but after three and a half years, I’d gotten used to it.

My dad ran in from the side of the stage wearing a lavalier mic and waving his hands wildly in the air. He stopped in the middle, bouncing on his toes and looking out at us. And then he lifted his arms into the air and yelled into the sanctuary, “This is the day that the Lord has made!”

We all yelled back, “Let us rejoice and be glad in it!”

“Nice!” He lowered his arms. “Wow, you sound unusually spirited for a Monday morning. Amen!”

“Amen!” everyone yelled back.

He insisted that everyone call him Pastor J because Pastor Jacquard sounded overly formal and no one could ever pronounce it anyway. My friends always told me how lucky I was to have him as my dad. They said he was more like a friend than a pastor, and that they told him secrets they’d never tell their own parents. That always used to make me proud. Lately, it made me wish he wasn’t my dad so I had someone like him to confide in.

“Before we get to official business, a few quick announcements.” Dad paced back and forth across the stage as he spoke. “As everyone in this room knows, this is a unique school. We gather together for Monday Chapel. Throughout the week, we meet in smaller groups and share what’s going on in our lives. We come back to this room with our families every Sunday. We connect,” he said, interlacing his fingers. “We get each other, don’t we?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see heads bobbing in agreement, Alyssa’s included. “Amen,” she whispered.

Dad’s heart was in the right place, but it bugged me when he talked about Covenant like that, as if he’d singlehandedly created this perfect teenage utopia where everyone got along, talked openly about feelings, and never said or did anything to hurt anyone. Nice visual, but it wasn’t true. We judged each other; we just did it more subtly and about different things, like who was the better Christian.

“Our annual Admissions Night is in three weeks, and I’m going to need all of us to come together as a team.”

I glanced around, taking in all the empty rows in the back of the sanctuary. When I was in elementary school, Dad used to turn away hundreds of kids every year, but by the time I was in middle school, things had started to change. Applications were on a steep decline and Dad had started letting teachers go, cutting back programs, and taking out loans from bigger local churches.

Over dinner one night, he told Mom and me all about his new plan.

“We’re going to focus on the performing arts program. We already have an incredible dance troupe and drama department, a competitive show choir, and of course, an award-winning a cappella group,” he’d said as he patted my hand. “And we’re in LA, after all!”

Mom snickered. “We’re in Orange County. LA is an hour away from here.”