Camp NaNo: The Church and Its Orbs - Chapter 4
I'm rewriting my Gemma story, which is tentatively titled The Church and Its Orbs. This is the fourth chapter. The previous chapters are linked below.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3
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“How am I supposed to do a report on this fairy tale, Lila?” I sigh. I glance down at my copy of the Book of Church Fairy Tales and wonder what I’m supposed to say about The Tale of the Golden Prince. We already said everything there was to say about it during class -- what more could I possibly add?
Lila shrugs. “It’s not hard, Gemma. Just repeat what Dr. Francis told you.”
“We’re supposed to come up with ‘original thought,’” I mutter. I glare at my book. While a Church book deserves respect, I can’t help resenting this assignment.
My friend rolls her eyes. “Your teacher doesn’t want you to come up with actual original thought. He’s just saying that. Repeat what he told you, it’s fine. All you need to do is use different words.”
“I suppose,” I murmur.
Lila and I are sitting at a table in a small classroom inside the library. We’re part of the Academic Enhancement Club, where we discuss our schoolwork. Our homeroom teacher Mr. Brady is supposed to watch over us and lead the group, but he seems to have disappeared. If he were here, we wouldn’t be talking so loudly. He had something to “discuss” with Charlotte, who is the favored member of the club. I joined so I would look good in the eyes of the school and the Church, but I seem to have been overshadowed by her.
The four other students in the room ignore us. I notice Lila isn’t doing her homework. She’s mostly staring off into space, with all her books and notebooks closed in front of her.
“Hey, Lila, are you okay?” I ask.
She turns and glares at me. Her stare is unexpectedly intense, and I almost flinch. What did I say?
“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal,” she mutters, shaking her head.
“What isn’t a big deal?” I say, having no idea what she’s talking about.
“Nothing,” she hisses. “Forget I said anything. You wouldn’t understand, being such a good girl and all.” Her voice drips with contempt.
I raise an eyebrow, feeling utterly confused now. “What are you talking about? What does being a good girl have to do with it?” I ask.
She’s hiding something, and I want to get it out of her. As my best friend, she shouldn’t have to hide things from me, but I can’t seem to find the right words to make her talk.
“You just wouldn’t understand, so I’m not going to bother explaining it to you, okay? I don’t want your judgment,” Lila mutters. If I’m not mistaken, she’s blushing.
Judgement? Just what did she do? I twirl my pen in my hand, trying to make sense of things, when there’s a knock on the door. My heart stops for a moment -- who would bother knocking? If Charlotte and Mr. Brady were back from discussing things, they wouldn’t need to knock.
The door opens -- whoever bothered knocking doesn’t seem to care about getting a response before entering. The intruder pushes his way inside. It’s Oliver from my Literature class. What is he doing here? Lila nearly falls out of her seat upon seeing him. He’s got a pink jacket slung over his arm -- it clearly doesn’t belong to him.
Wait, that jacket belongs to Lila, doesn’t it? I’m almost sure of it.
“O-Oliver, what are you doing here?” she stammers. She grabs the edge of the table, and the other four students finally pay attention. I can feel their eyes on her and Oliver.
He grins in a way that feels...slimy. “Lila, you forget your jacket,” he says.
She doesn’t move, as if she’s stuck to the seat. Lila stares at him with wide eyes, her face distinctly flushed. Oliver looks over at her, and his oddly creepy grin widens. “Don’t you want it?” he says.
What is going on? I stand up, and snatch the jacket from Oliver’s arm. “I’ll take it,” I mutter.
“But it’s not yours, is it?” Oliver says.
I look him directly in the eye, trying to suppress a shudder. Did he hurt her? I get the worst impression from him, though I can’t say exactly why.
“I’m Lila’s friend -- I’ll give it to her. I don’t think she wants to deal with you right now,” I mutter.
She makes a small, squeaking noise. The blatant curiosity of the other four students sets the air around us crackling, their eyes now burning into me as well.
Oliver makes a face like he’s curious. It looks so fake. I move to stand between him and Lila.
“Why not? She certainly wanted to ‘deal’ with me yesterday,” he says, shrugging.
“Well, she doesn’t want to deal with you now,” I say, leaning forward. Being five feet ten inches tall, I’m almost a match for Oliver’s six feet. I probably weigh more than he does, as he’s very skinny while I have actual fat and muscle on me.
I pause, my heart stopping again. What am I doing, trying to intimidate him into leaving? I could get in serious trouble for this, as good Church girls don’t harass or intimidate boys. But the Church says to protect the weak, and, right now, Lila needs protection.
“That’s too bad -- I want to talk to her,” Oliver says. His voice is casual, but he does take a step back.
“You can talk to her later, when she wants to talk,” I mutter. “If you weren’t aware, there is a club going on right now, and you’re interrupting.”
He looks around the room. “Where’s the club advisor, then?” he says.
“He’s busy discussing something with another student. You’re still interrupting,” I say. I glare at him to drive my point home.
“If he’s busy, wouldn’t now be the time to talk?” Oliver murmurs. He shrugs. “At least, I think so.”
I take a big step forward. He and I are mere inches apart. Is that fear in his eyes? I hope he can’t see the fear I feel. On the inside, I’m trembling -- what if I really do get in trouble for this?
“I disagree. Why don’t you leave, Oliver?” I say. My voice is hard, steely. The air is tense enough to make breathing difficult, but I keep my breathing steady.
He’s almost backed against the door. He reaches for the handle, and turns it. “Fine, I’ll leave, if you insist. But this isn’t over,” he mutters.
This isn’t over? What does that mean? His words sound like a threat. Oliver glares at us. My stomach sinks -- I don’t like this. I step back in order to let him leave, and he finally does. The four other students stare at me, disbelief obvious on their faces. The tension in the room doesn’t dissipate.
“Don’t you have studying to do?” I snap at them. They all return to their work, in a way that suggest they’re still looking over at me and Lila.
My friend is still frozen to her seat, and her face is pale. She’s gripping the edge of the table and trembling. “You -- you shouldn’t have d-done that,” she says.
I sit down in the seat beside her and put the jacket on the table. “Why not?”
“You sh-shouldn’t h-have done that,” she says.
“Why not?” I repeat, feeling so confused.
“Not here,” she hisses, turning to me and glaring. She turns away almost as quickly and opens her book. It’s obvious she has no interest in talking to me.
I try to return to my work, and I can’t. The incident with Oliver plays itself over and over in my mind, and I don’t understand it -- how could I have intimidated a boy like that? In front of witnesses, even.
What did I do? What’s going to happen now?
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3
---------
“How am I supposed to do a report on this fairy tale, Lila?” I sigh. I glance down at my copy of the Book of Church Fairy Tales and wonder what I’m supposed to say about The Tale of the Golden Prince. We already said everything there was to say about it during class -- what more could I possibly add?
Lila shrugs. “It’s not hard, Gemma. Just repeat what Dr. Francis told you.”
“We’re supposed to come up with ‘original thought,’” I mutter. I glare at my book. While a Church book deserves respect, I can’t help resenting this assignment.
My friend rolls her eyes. “Your teacher doesn’t want you to come up with actual original thought. He’s just saying that. Repeat what he told you, it’s fine. All you need to do is use different words.”
“I suppose,” I murmur.
Lila and I are sitting at a table in a small classroom inside the library. We’re part of the Academic Enhancement Club, where we discuss our schoolwork. Our homeroom teacher Mr. Brady is supposed to watch over us and lead the group, but he seems to have disappeared. If he were here, we wouldn’t be talking so loudly. He had something to “discuss” with Charlotte, who is the favored member of the club. I joined so I would look good in the eyes of the school and the Church, but I seem to have been overshadowed by her.
The four other students in the room ignore us. I notice Lila isn’t doing her homework. She’s mostly staring off into space, with all her books and notebooks closed in front of her.
“Hey, Lila, are you okay?” I ask.
She turns and glares at me. Her stare is unexpectedly intense, and I almost flinch. What did I say?
“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal,” she mutters, shaking her head.
“What isn’t a big deal?” I say, having no idea what she’s talking about.
“Nothing,” she hisses. “Forget I said anything. You wouldn’t understand, being such a good girl and all.” Her voice drips with contempt.
I raise an eyebrow, feeling utterly confused now. “What are you talking about? What does being a good girl have to do with it?” I ask.
She’s hiding something, and I want to get it out of her. As my best friend, she shouldn’t have to hide things from me, but I can’t seem to find the right words to make her talk.
“You just wouldn’t understand, so I’m not going to bother explaining it to you, okay? I don’t want your judgment,” Lila mutters. If I’m not mistaken, she’s blushing.
Judgement? Just what did she do? I twirl my pen in my hand, trying to make sense of things, when there’s a knock on the door. My heart stops for a moment -- who would bother knocking? If Charlotte and Mr. Brady were back from discussing things, they wouldn’t need to knock.
The door opens -- whoever bothered knocking doesn’t seem to care about getting a response before entering. The intruder pushes his way inside. It’s Oliver from my Literature class. What is he doing here? Lila nearly falls out of her seat upon seeing him. He’s got a pink jacket slung over his arm -- it clearly doesn’t belong to him.
Wait, that jacket belongs to Lila, doesn’t it? I’m almost sure of it.
“O-Oliver, what are you doing here?” she stammers. She grabs the edge of the table, and the other four students finally pay attention. I can feel their eyes on her and Oliver.
He grins in a way that feels...slimy. “Lila, you forget your jacket,” he says.
She doesn’t move, as if she’s stuck to the seat. Lila stares at him with wide eyes, her face distinctly flushed. Oliver looks over at her, and his oddly creepy grin widens. “Don’t you want it?” he says.
What is going on? I stand up, and snatch the jacket from Oliver’s arm. “I’ll take it,” I mutter.
“But it’s not yours, is it?” Oliver says.
I look him directly in the eye, trying to suppress a shudder. Did he hurt her? I get the worst impression from him, though I can’t say exactly why.
“I’m Lila’s friend -- I’ll give it to her. I don’t think she wants to deal with you right now,” I mutter.
She makes a small, squeaking noise. The blatant curiosity of the other four students sets the air around us crackling, their eyes now burning into me as well.
Oliver makes a face like he’s curious. It looks so fake. I move to stand between him and Lila.
“Why not? She certainly wanted to ‘deal’ with me yesterday,” he says, shrugging.
“Well, she doesn’t want to deal with you now,” I say, leaning forward. Being five feet ten inches tall, I’m almost a match for Oliver’s six feet. I probably weigh more than he does, as he’s very skinny while I have actual fat and muscle on me.
I pause, my heart stopping again. What am I doing, trying to intimidate him into leaving? I could get in serious trouble for this, as good Church girls don’t harass or intimidate boys. But the Church says to protect the weak, and, right now, Lila needs protection.
“That’s too bad -- I want to talk to her,” Oliver says. His voice is casual, but he does take a step back.
“You can talk to her later, when she wants to talk,” I mutter. “If you weren’t aware, there is a club going on right now, and you’re interrupting.”
He looks around the room. “Where’s the club advisor, then?” he says.
“He’s busy discussing something with another student. You’re still interrupting,” I say. I glare at him to drive my point home.
“If he’s busy, wouldn’t now be the time to talk?” Oliver murmurs. He shrugs. “At least, I think so.”
I take a big step forward. He and I are mere inches apart. Is that fear in his eyes? I hope he can’t see the fear I feel. On the inside, I’m trembling -- what if I really do get in trouble for this?
“I disagree. Why don’t you leave, Oliver?” I say. My voice is hard, steely. The air is tense enough to make breathing difficult, but I keep my breathing steady.
He’s almost backed against the door. He reaches for the handle, and turns it. “Fine, I’ll leave, if you insist. But this isn’t over,” he mutters.
This isn’t over? What does that mean? His words sound like a threat. Oliver glares at us. My stomach sinks -- I don’t like this. I step back in order to let him leave, and he finally does. The four other students stare at me, disbelief obvious on their faces. The tension in the room doesn’t dissipate.
“Don’t you have studying to do?” I snap at them. They all return to their work, in a way that suggest they’re still looking over at me and Lila.
My friend is still frozen to her seat, and her face is pale. She’s gripping the edge of the table and trembling. “You -- you shouldn’t have d-done that,” she says.
I sit down in the seat beside her and put the jacket on the table. “Why not?”
“You sh-shouldn’t h-have done that,” she says.
“Why not?” I repeat, feeling so confused.
“Not here,” she hisses, turning to me and glaring. She turns away almost as quickly and opens her book. It’s obvious she has no interest in talking to me.
I try to return to my work, and I can’t. The incident with Oliver plays itself over and over in my mind, and I don’t understand it -- how could I have intimidated a boy like that? In front of witnesses, even.
What did I do? What’s going to happen now?