Trinity (46)

The library is pretty empty, which isn’t at all surprising, really, because it’s two o’clock, and anyone in school wouldn’t be out yet. Not to mention it’s a Friday, and most people don’t hang out at the library on Fridays. But, it’s also Good Friday, which, as Saint Paul’s is a Christian school, means we don’t have school today. And so Easter break has begun.

Though I’d usually rather not be in a library on a day off of school, I’m wandering through the shelves, waiting. It’s the library Kelly and I always meet at, the library that we did not meet at yesterday, despite yesterday being a Thursday.

With all that’s happened, I was extraordinarily glad when Kelly had texted me to say that his family would be out of town for Easter, and he’d be leaving after school Thursday. Which meant no studying, no library, no seeing or talking to Kelly.

Kelly. Who, if I was anyone else, (anyone but Amber) I would be giggling over and talking about and potentially wanting to… kiss? This thought is so foreign that I stop in the middle of the row of books I’m in and stare ahead at the spines, like they have answer for me.

I haven’t had a whole lot of time to think, or maybe I’ve have too much time to think. Actually, maybe I do nothing but think. Still. I haven’t figured anything out. Anything but the unshakable knowledge that I’m not everybody else.

I’m something completely alien.

“Trinity!” The word comes from behind me, and is spoken much louder than a library-whisper.

I jump a little and turn, and Pearl is there, her hair clipped back with pink barrettes. She’s wearing a purple tank top with an embroidery that looks like a dropped ice cream cone, and a pink chunky-knit cardigan. Sometimes I wonder how she knows what looks good; I wouldn’t know fashion if it smacked me in the face.

I wonder if I should’ve swapped out my random t-shirt for something nicer. It’s just white with the word “sunshine” written on it. I don’t even know where it came from, my mom probably just bought it and stuck it in my closet.

“Why are we at the library?” I ask her. We’d decided that, since it was our break from school, we would hang out together. But I hadn’t expected her to text me and tell me to meet her at the library.

Pearl grins, her eyes glinting dangerously. “Come on, we’re not actually staying here.”

It’s warm out, but sprinkling, and Pearl holds out her hands, as if to catch the rain, as we walk out of the library. “It was the only way my parents would agree to it,” she’s telling me. “I told them we’re studying.”

I tut. “You lied? Also, you’re not carrying any books.”

Pearl laughs gleefully. “The library has all the books. Why bring my own? And look!” She stretches her arms out to either side as far as they’ll go, her right hand narrowly missing me. “It worked! I’m free!”

I laugh incredulously, squinting up at the light rain, as if that might make it stop. “So where are we going? If we’re not staying at the library?”

Pearl points to the parking lot up ahead. “The mall, of course. Within walking distance, by coincidence. Now hurry up, it’s raining.” With a triumphant shout, she starts off towards the mall, half running and half skipping.

I follow, almost tripping over my feet in the process.

. . .

After a few hours of Pearl dragging me in and out of shops, we finally sit down for a while on a patio owned by a restaurant that we have no intention of eating at. It’s stopped raining, and the seats and tables are mostly speckled with rainwater. Consequently, the outdoor area isn’t especially busy, so I don’t feel terrible stealing a table. The few others outside--actual paying customers, from the looks of it--are sitting in pairs (boy, girl; boy, girl) all of them copy-and-paste versions of each other, and all of them at least my parents’ age.

It’s very clear that Pearl and I stand out, but there’s no servers out here, as the restaurant isn’t that fancy, so no one tells us off. It doesn’t stop me from glancing around though, looking for, I don’t know, mall police or something.

Pearl puts her chin in her hand and smiles at me from across the table. “You know Sister Bertha’s not gonna be here,” she murmurs.

I turn my attention back to her, my cheeks heating slightly. “Well. You never know with her, do you.” I pause, thinking. “About Sister Bertha… have you ever noticed--”

“How big and scary she is?” Pearl asks, springing her head up and wiggling her fingers in my direction.

I pretend to be offended, which makes her laugh. “She’s different. She… I don’t know, it’s weird. That day when I found you and Henry and Katherine, when we were supposed to be at the service, she was there.”

“Yeah, you’d said.”

“She knew you were both in there; she asked how you were. She… she told me to stay with my friends instead of going back to the service. It was, well, surprising to say the least.”

Pearl’s eyebrows raise. “No way. Are you serious? I thought she didn’t notice. I didn’t think anyone did.” Pearl looks down and tries to fit a fingertip through one of the holes in the mesh-pattern of the tabletop. “Once I started skipping the services, and no one stopped me… I thought they just didn’t know.”

I shrug. I don’t mention that I had noticed her skipping. Obviously.

“Why would she let me--us--skip out? When services are like, the most important thing,” she says it in that mocking tone, the way she’s always talked about religious things. She continues to poke at the tabletop.

“I think…” I begin, then reconsider. “I think she’s different. Than other religious people we know. It’s almost like she knows, well, everything, and she still doesn’t care. By which I mean she does care. About us. But not about the ‘traditional’ Christian things, I guess.”

Pearl just chuckles. “She’s a nun, Trinity. Of course she cares about traditional Christian things. She probably thought I was, like, sick or something, and didn’t want my germs on her holy air.”

I try to picture ‘holy air’ and end up sputtering out a laugh. “I don’t think that’s what it is. Honestly, as intimidating and--and ominous as she is, I think she’s actually ok.”

Now it’s Pearl’s turn to shrug. Her eyes raise to mine, doubtful. “Whatever you say. But I wouldn’t hang out with her if I had the choice. In fact, what do nuns even do? Quote the bible at each other? Pray? Ooh, wait! Reread student essays, most likely.”

I shake my head and stretch my legs under the table, bumping hers on accident. She taps my leg back, and we sit for a moment in silence.

“You never told me about Amber,” I remind her. After our conversation at Waffle Mixers, Pearl had politely steered the conversation towards whimsical and random things, which I had appreciated. We didn’t talk about Amber or Maggie or even anything about school, really.

Pearl huffs, and I blurt, “Sorry, we don’t have to talk about her.”

But she just shakes her head. “No, it’s alright. It’s just kinda weird.” She sinks lower in her seat, and I sit on my hands and wait for her to continue. “She apologized, I guess. In a strange way.” She laughs.

“Strange?”

“She brought me a DS and a bag of chocolate chips. Like, a stash of contraband, basically. She’d stolen the chocolate from the kitchen and God knows where she got the DS. Electronics aren’t allowed, as you know.”

I nod, but my eyebrows scrunch together. “This was her… apology?”

The corner of Pearl’s mouth quirks. “Basically. She said…” Pearl bites her lip, her eyes on something behind me. “She said she didn’t mean to lead me on. That she wants to be friends, still.”

“Oh. That’s good.” That seems extremely tender for Amber, although regifting stolen goods while delivering this sentiment sounds a lot more like her. Or maybe I expect too little of her.

Pearl goes back to poking the holes in the tabletop. “Yes. Good. I suppose. She must be dating someone. She should’ve just told me.”

I hold my breath for a second, thinking Pearl will somehow realize that this is not the case. But she doesn’t know. I groan internally, but I’ve got to say something. “Pearl…” I start, shifting in my seat. She looks up at me, her wide eyes blinking unknowingly. “I don’t think she’s dating anyone.”

“She might be,” grumbles Pearl, and I can see her shoulders hunch.

I pull my hands out from under me and raise them, only to lower them back to my lap. “I don’t think she is.”

“Well, she flirted with me, but doesn’t want to date me, so explain that.” Pearl’s tone has turned bitter.

“What has she told you?” I ask, trying to tiptoe around outright telling her exactly what Amber told me not to say. When Pearl looks confused, I try a new approach. “What exactly happened at the Spring Fling? If… if you don’t mind me asking.”

Pearl knots her fingers together in front of her. “Yeah. Well, basically.” She laughs, her cheeks tinted red and her eyes downcast. I realize she’s embarrassed. I’ve never seen her embarrassed. “It was just the two of us, and I thought everything was great, you know, between us. And so I asked if she’d go on a date with me. And then I tried to… well, I’ve told you how that went.”

“Ok, but all of that doesn’t mean that she’s dating anyone else.”

Pearl frowns. “So you’re just saying she’s available, but she doesn’t want to date me. Thanks. That makes me feel good.”

I want to shrivel up and die, even though I can tell Pearl’s not actually mad, just frustrated. “No! I mean--I mean that she’s…” Aromantic. But no, it would be wrong of me to say, because it’s Amber’s choice to tell Pearl, not mine. “Maybe it’s just not as simple as it seems.”

It might be something in my voice, but Pearl puts her forehead on the table, looking defeated. “It never is,” she mutters. Even (and maybe especially) when she’s upset, she reminds me of characters in drama movies. In this case, she’s the pretty girl pining over someone, perfect even when she’s heartbroken.

I stand up then, a new thought hitting me. Not about Amber. Just about Pearl. And about movies. “Take me shopping,” I say to her.

She opens one eye, her face still resting on the table, and squints up at me. “We just were shopping.”

I gesture between us. “And all we did was make fun of things. No purchases.”

She sits up, her lips pressed together. “Uh, yeah. Being fifteen doesn't exactly pay well. And my mom taught me to browse, not buy.”

“Exactly,” I say, rounding the table and pulling her upright by the arm. “Let’s go try on crazy outfits, just for fun. Like a real-life movie montage.”

Pearl looks dazed. “What?”

“Come on. Teach me what fashion is. Please?” I’m still clinging to her arm, and she turns her head sharply towards me, her face lit with one of her brilliant smiles.

She sticks out her elbow, so that I’m holding her arm like an old-fashioned gentleman would, and we march down the street to the closest (and fanciest) boutique. We giggle the whole way, like we’re children. And it feels, for once, like even if someone was watching, I wouldn’t care at all.

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

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