Little Do We Know(8)

“Close enough,” he’d said.

Dad spent the next six months getting investments, beefing up our drama and dance departments, hiring new directors and upping their budgets.

Admissions Night had always been a big deal, but lately, he seemed to be pulling out all the stops, more determined than ever to fill that room. And now I knew why.

Aaron.

Me.

“I want each one of you to think about the reason you’re here at Covenant.” Dad slowly paced the stage, stopping to smile at specific students. It was his way of connecting, of drawing them in. He told me once that he tries to find the people in the crowd who don’t seem to be hearing the message, or the ones he knows need to hear it most, and he makes a point to look directly at them. “Maybe you were someone who never quite found the right group in middle school. Maybe you felt a bit lost. Maybe you felt pressured to do things you knew weren’t right.”

I heard a few scattered amens around the room as Dad made his way to the other side of the stage. “Or maybe you came here to make the most of your God-given talents in music and dance. No matter what brought you here to this family, you’re in a place where you belong.”

Dad kept pacing, looking out into the sanctuary, pausing to let his words sink in.

“I bet every one of you knows someone who needs this place as much as you did.”

I thought of Emory. She used to come to church with me all the time when we were little, and she never missed any of my choir performances, but over the years, I could tell she’d become more uncomfortable in this room. When I asked her to come to candlelight service last Christmas Eve, she scrunched up her nose and said, “I’m gonna pass this year. That’s your thing, not mine. You understand, right?”

I told her I did, and I’d meant it, but it still hurt.

“Right now, I want each one of you to close your eyes and picture that person.” Dad was still pacing the stage. “I’m going to count to three and I want you to say that person’s name out loud. Ready? One. Two. Three.”

The auditorium filled with sound. I couldn’t think of anyone else, and I wasn’t about to say Emory’s name, so I mumbled something unintelligible, knowing the names would all blend together anyway.

“I know I’m your principal and not a teacher, but I’m giving out a little bit of homework today. I want to see the person you just named sitting right next to you on Admissions Night. Amen?”

“Amen!” everyone yelled.

Dad pointed at Aaron. “Aaron has been working so hard on a new promotional video, and he’s finishing it up this week. When he comes around, be yourselves. Ham it up. Have some fun! Show our community what this school is all about. Amen?”

“Amen!”

“Okay, let’s get to today’s sermon.” I heard the whir of the projection screen as it lowered from the ceiling.

I knew from all the time I’d spent singing on that stage that the first row was hard to see from the glare of the spotlights, so I pulled out my Chem flash cards and kept them on my lap. I figured if he happened to notice me with my head bent down, he’d think I was praying.





“Why do I feel like people are looking at me?” I slid my tray down the lunch line.

“It’s your imagination,” Charlotte said as she reached for a basket of fries.

“Yeah, I thought so.” I tossed my purple feather boa over my shoulder with dramatic flair, and it hit the guy standing behind me right in the face. I apologized even though he didn’t seem to care.

I reached for a salad and changed the subject. “I like your hair, by the way.”

Charlotte’s long blond hair was twisted into a soft braid that started at one temple and continued over the top of her head, framing her face like a crown.

“Thanks. I think I’ve finally got this one down. I’m going to post the video tonight.”

My hair looked the same every day; I liked sleeping too much to get up early and mess with it. But Charlotte’s hair always looked different. She wore it in sophisticated-looking updos, braided it in fishtails, or let it hang in big, loopy curls. Once she mastered the new technique, she’d post a short tutorial video on Instagram. Last time I checked, she had over twelve thousand followers.

I looked over my shoulder at Luke’s table. His back was to me, but I could see him at the far end, talking with his friends. He broke from his story long enough to take a sip of soda.

I was just about to turn away when Lara noticed me. Once she did, that was it. It was like I’d flicked my fingertip against the first domino. Lara elbowed Tess, who leaned into Ava, who nudged Kathryn, and one by one their heads turned to look at me. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. And then it was the guys’ turn. None of them even tried to hide their surprise. They laughed and pointed until it snaked around to Luke, the final domino to fall.

When he saw me, I tilted my head to one side and gave him a flirty wave, feeling all Marilyn Monroe and hoping I looked the part. He covered his mouth, but I could tell from the crinkles next to his eyes he was smiling.

When I stepped up to the counter to pay for my lunch, the cashier looked at me sideways. “What?” I asked, and she shook her head and said, “Nothing,” as she handed me my card.

Charlotte was business as usual. “Are you skipping the theater today?”