Trinity (13)

Amber blinks at me as if I’ve just suggested that I might amputate one of my fingers for fun. I stand very still, regretting I asked her to define her relationship with Pearl. Clearly this was a mistake.

“Is that what she told you?” Amber asks, her face frustratingly devoid of expression. She puts more weight on her elbows, which are propped on the tabletop, and the table between us tips so far I’m afraid it’s going to fall onto her.

“Oh. No, she didn’t say anything. I just--well, I just thought, maybe… Since she’s…” I expect her to cut me off, but she doesn’t, so my voice just fades away.

Amber’s dark eyes watch me for an excruciatingly long moment before she says, “We’re not. I don’t date, not really. Just have a little fun here and there, you know?” She looks at me expectantly, so I open my mouth to respond, but she speaks before I do. “Nevermind. You don’t know.”

Amber pulls her weight off the table, and it clatters loudly towards me, making me jump. She doesn’t notice, as she’s too busy surveilling the crowd. “What has she said about me, then?” she asks.

“Nothing, really.” I think I see a crease form between her brows. “How do you know her, again?”

“Through our very fun and exciting conversion camp at Our Lady of Guidance.” I must look surprised, because Amber says matter-of-factly, “Pearl has mentioned it to you.”

It unnerves me that it’s a statement and not a question. “Yes,” I answer. “She didn’t call it… that.”

“No, it’s officially called Youth’s Road to Jesus. I’ve got a few years’ worth of t-shirts, if you’re looking for merch.”

“Hm.”

A silence falls between us then, but it’s anything but silent as other students chatter around us. I can hear Naya Bloom say from the stage, ”--and this will be my last song of the evening. You all have a great night!”

“You know, Pearl talks about you a lot, but you don’t really talk much.” Amber glances back at me for a millisecond.

I’m not sure what to say to that, but keeping silent would prove her point, so I end up saying, “Oh.”

Amber laughs, then cuts herself short as she spots something. “Jackson!” She waves her arms, and I stand on my tiptoes to see around her tall form. Jackson’s sauntering towards us, parting the sea of students easily and leaving girls sighing in his wake.

When he reaches us, I see that his mouth is turned down in a tiny frown. “Have you seen Henry at all?” He puts a hand on the back of his neck, eyes flicking to the floor. “I’ve lost him.”

I stay silent, remembering that Henry did not want Jackson to know that he’d had a panic attack. I stare holes into the back of Amber’s head until she responds. “Hm. Yeah, well, I haven’t seen him. I think him and Pearl stepped out for a moment.” Jackson makes a face, and Amber pats his shoulder. “Not like that, I can assure you. He’s been making googly eyes at you all night.”

A grin jumps onto Jackson’s face, and his neck flushes. “Really?” he says, that dumb smile on his face. His tone suggests that this question is for show, and he does not actually need any confirmation for his effect on Henry.

Amber punches him in the arm a little harder than is appropriate for the situation. “Duh. Him and every single girl in this school. God,” she scoffs. I flinch. “Except for me, obviously, because I am immune to male charm.” She flashes him a grin, and he laughs.

I scrub my sandals against the gym floor, tracing the path of an existing scuff mark, and wonder how much longer it will be until Pearl comes back.

. . .

Naya Bloom has already packed up her guitar and left by the time Henry and Pearl appear at our table. I’m not sure if she’s left the building, and I think it would be very neat to meet her, but I don’t see her anywhere.

They’ve started playing regular pop music, and this puts Amber into some kind of mood which involves a lot of hip-gyrating and shout-singing. I’m not sure how she could possibly know every lyric to every song, but it seems like she does.

According to the clock in the back of the gym, it’s 9:19. I don’t see Kelly standing back there anymore, and I wonder if he’s left. We’re not supposed to leave early, but if his dad picked him up I’m sure they’d allow it.

Pearl comes and stands beside me, her pink skirt brushing my purple one. “Sorry I was gone for a bit. Is Naya Bloom still here?”

I shake my head, watching Henry talking to Jackson. I wouldn’t describe him as ‘googly-eyed’, but he does look a little nervous. I wonder if Jackson had anything to do with his panic attack; I wonder if something happened.

“That’s too bad,” Pearl says. She sounds genuinely disappointed.

“It’s ok,” I tell her. “I got to hear her sing. It’s been good.”

“Has it? You won’t even dance with us.” Pearl’s eyes are glued to Amber, who has wrapped an arm around both Jackson and Henry and is swaying with them to the beat of the music.

“That’s not how I have fun,” I tell her quietly. It’s true, but I don’t think she believes me. “Go ahead. You dance. I just don’t want to.”

Her mouth slants down a little. “Ok, then.” Her hand brushes my skirt as she leaves, and she joins the others in the middle of the gym.

. . .

On Monday morning, all of the ninth through twelfth graders are escorted into the gymnasium after first period. This is not the normal time for assemblies, and no one is sure where to sit. The room is heavy with murmurs and questions and speculations. There’s not a trace of blue streamers or ankle bubbles or cardboard clownfish from Friday night.

I dart through the crowd until I see Pearl, sitting high up in the bleachers, smoothing her skirt in her lap. She looks pristine and proper. As always.

I climb towards her and sit down beside her, selfishly glad that Henry is elsewhere with his guy friends. I am significantly less glad when I feel Sister Bertha’s hawk eyes on the back of my neck and glance around to find her perched on the very top row of bleachers behind us.

Principal Sumner takes to the stage and gets our attention with a loud squeal of feedback from the microphone. “This time of year is meant to be a celebration for our students. Spring: a time of growth and light and celebration in the church as well. The end of the school year is nearing, yes, but we expect you to not let this interfere with your studies. Or your actions.”

Mr. Sumner talks for a very long time, and at great length, about what a marvelous time spring is before reaching his point.

“Many of you attended the Spring Fling this last Friday. And many of you were very well-behaved, and I’d like to thank those students for that. However.” He pauses here, his shock of white hair rotating left then right as he looks across the crowd. “Not all of you were as well-behaved as we expect students here at Saint Paul’s to be.”

As it turns out, someone graffitied a sign on the wall in the art wing. The problem is that that hallway was not in use on Friday, and therefore was dark, and therefore they are still checking the security footage for details on the culprit.

Mr. Sumner then encourages the perpetrator to come clean--the confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works, Saint Augustine--and assures us that they will track down who did this.

For a moment I think he’s done talking, then he adds, “We’ve already pulled plenty of information off of the security footage. The vandalism happened just after 8:30, and we know approximately what the culprit looks like. We’re already reviewing the other cameras, and we will continue to do so if need be.”

“What do you think they did, exactly?” Pearl whispers to me.

I shrug. “It must’ve been bad if they’ve called an entire assembly to talk about it.”

The rest of the day passes in a whirl of rumors: who’s responsible (maybe Dylan, because he owns a skateboard), what it said (“principal suck-ner sucks”), and what the punishment will be (suspension, definitely; jail, maybe). I don’t agree with any of the rumors, mostly because they’re outlandish.

But I do wonder.

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(first part: https://theprose.com/post/432343/trinity)

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(previous part: https://theprose.com/post/439925/trinity-12)

(next part: https://theprose.com/post/441401/trinity-14)