Camp NaNo: The Church and Its Orbs - Chapter 1
I'm rewriting my Gemma story, which is tentatively titled The Church and Its Orbs. This is the first chapter.
Prologue
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It’s been two years since Ruby received her purple Soul Orb, and soon it will be my turn. It’s only a couple of months now before I claim my prize. Since my sister is a purple, I’m more likely to be one, too. It does run in families, after all. I practically glow with excitement, thinking about all that will be open to me, should I receive an orb like my sister’s.
As lovely as a purple orb would be, I should be paying attention in Literature class. I may be a good Church girl, but it’s still difficult to listen to Dr. Francis. He manages to make fairy tales seem decidedly unmagical. We’re learning from the Book of Church Fairy Tales. It’s designed to help us remember proper Churchly behavior. Little children read from it, but now we’re studying the fairy tales on the basis of their literary merit as well.
I sit in the front of the class. Ruby may be a purple orb now, but I’m determined to outshine her with my grades. As a girl who hasn’t received her orb yet, it’s important I focus on my studies -- purple orbs can get away with handing things in late. I cannot. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to because the Church says dedication to your work purifies your soul.
Though it maybe be difficult, I make myself focus on Dr. Francis as he paces in front of the whiteboard. It’s hardly white anymore, being decorated with smudges from the erasable markers. My desk, with its tiny plastic chair, is uncomfortable and uneven, too. I rock back and forth, hearing the metal leg of the chair squeak against the old linoleum floor. The school budget went to things besides new chairs and a new whiteboard.
“Who would like to summarize the plot of The Tale of the Golden Prince?” he asks as he crosses the room. He clasps his hands behind his back, and he seems a bit manic. His eyes shine, like the fairy tale is the most important thing in the world.
For some reason, I’m a bit reluctant to raise my hand when I remember the actual plot of the story. It is not one of my favorite Church fairy tales. I still raise my hand, but my brief moment of hesitation costs me. Dr. Francis calls on another girl in the front row.
“Charlotte? Would you like to answer?” he says, smiling at my perky blonde classmate.
“I would be glad to,” Charlotte chirps. She practically bounces in her seat. “It’s the story of two young farm girls. They’re best friends who do everything together, even promising they’ll marry one another when they come of age. Of course, they’re young and don’t understand girls can’t marry other girls. When they’re of age, they’re still inseparable and go to visit the local priest to get his blessing to marry each other. The poor things never grew up. The priest prays to the gods to save the two young ladies, and the gods respond by sending two princes to them: a Golden Prince for the one, and a Silver Prince for the other.”
I can’t help wondering if I will ever meet a guy who’s like a prince -- this school seems to be lacking in guys with that particular princely charm.
“The first girl accepts her Golden Prince, for he is perfect in every way for her, and she’ll get to be a princess. The other girl doesn’t accept her Silver Prince, being foolish and misguided,” Charlotte says. She sighs, as if sad for the second girl.
“She grows jealous of the first girl and her Golden Prince, and even tries to ruin their wedding by sneaking in uninvited and poisoning the wine. The Golden Prince, with powers given him by the gods, senses the treachery and stops the new Princess from drinking it. He turns on the second girl, disguised as a server, and unmasks her. Still, she does not confess, instead declaring her undying love for the new Princess. The Golden Prince has no choice but to force her own poison wine down her throat, as punishment from the gods. He and his new bride go on to live happily ever after,” she says.
Dr. Francis claps his hands together. “Very good, Charlotte,” he exclaims. “Now who would like to tell me what lesson this fairy tale teaches us?”
I don’t raise my hand, though I know I should. Dr. Francis’ eyes widen as he points to a girl in the back row. “Yes, Wren? Would you like to tell us what lesson this story teaches?”
“It teaches us to make sure we have taste testers when we get married so we don’t drop dead in our wedding finery,” she mutters. I turn to look at her -- Wren has her arms crossed over her chest and her dark brown eyes are hard. Her chin length black hair has scandalous pink streaks in it, and her clothes, with their combination of black, bright pink, and actual leather are not what a proper Church girl should wear. I can’t help thinking she would be quite pretty if she weren’t so obviously rebellious. Her dark brown skin seems not to have a blemish on it.
Several other students look at Wren. They can’t seem to believe what she said. Neither can I -- I know I wouldn’t dare speak out that way. Our teacher tsk-tsks, and I turn my attention back to him.
He shakes his head. “Wren, that’s not it at all. You need to take the lesson seriously,” he says.
“I’ll be sure to give the story all the respect it deserves,” Wren says. There’s a strange inflection to her voice, almost as if she thinks the story doesn’t deserve any respect at all. It’s a Church fairy tale -- as antiquated as the setting of it may be, of course it deserves respect.
Dr. Francis turns away from Wren. “So, anyone else?” he asks, resuming his pacing of the classroom.
This time, I do raise my hand, making myself shoot it up into the air quickly enough my teacher has to notice me. This may not be my favorite fairy tale, but that’s no reason not to be a good student.
His eyes fall on me. “Yes, Gemma? What does The Tale of the Golden Prince teach us?” he murmurs.
I nod and put my hand down while gathering my thoughts. “The lesson is about...proper, Churchly relationships. It -- teaches us who is right to love, and who is wrong to love. It shows the consequences of loving your own gender, how that...twists you. Makes you evil. The first girl, who accepted her role and the right kind of love, triumphed. The second girl, who clung to her deviant feelings, failed, ultimately...” I take a deep breath. “She ultimately paid with her life. The Tale of the Golden Prince shows the darkness and sin behind deviant feelings. It -- shows what can happen if you don’t follow the right path in love. If you don’t make the right choice.”
Dr. Francis breaks out in a huge smile. He claps his hand together again. “Very good, Gemma,” he says. “The fairy tale does indeed teach of the evil of choosing the wrong kind of love. It’s a good lesson to remember.”
When his attention drifts from me, I dare to glance at the clock on the wall. I’m more than ready for class to be over.
“Yes, Wren? Do you have something else to say?” he asks.
I can’t help turning around to look at Wren. She’s speaking up again? Her eyes are still hard, and I wonder what she’ll say this time.
“What if it’s not a choice?” Wren says.
“Excuse me?” Dr. Francis says. He looks completely confused. I’m confused, too -- what if what isn’t a choice?
“Loving your own gender. What if you can’t just decide to love the opposite one? What if you’re just kind of -- wired to want your own? What do you do then, if it’s as deviant as the Church says?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest again.
I gasp -- of course it’s a choice. I’m not the only one making noises of surprise, either. All eyes are on her, and the air in the room is tense enough it’s difficult for me to breathe. My heart thuds.
My teacher’s eyes are equally hard. “The Church believes that nobody is so ‘wired’ to want their own gender that they can’t make the righteous choice. Some people are corrupt enough that they choose sin, but nobody has to choose sin,” he says.
Wren smiles, though it looks fake. “Thank you for enlightening me, Dr. Francis. I obviously want to follow Churchly ways, so I’m glad you cleared that up for me,” she says. If I didn’t know better, I would say her voice dripped with false sincerity and actual sarcasm. Our teacher doesn’t seem to notice this, though he does look at her suspiciously.
“Of course, Wren,” he says. “Now, let’s try to stay on topic, shall we? We don’t need any more derailing questions, even...well-intentioned ones.”
I chance another look at the clock -- after the incident with Wren, I find it difficult to concentrate on the lesson. I want to get out of here and go to where people don’t sound like they’re questioning the Church and its lessons.
After all, the Church knows what’s best and can do no wrong.
next chapter
Prologue
---------
It’s been two years since Ruby received her purple Soul Orb, and soon it will be my turn. It’s only a couple of months now before I claim my prize. Since my sister is a purple, I’m more likely to be one, too. It does run in families, after all. I practically glow with excitement, thinking about all that will be open to me, should I receive an orb like my sister’s.
As lovely as a purple orb would be, I should be paying attention in Literature class. I may be a good Church girl, but it’s still difficult to listen to Dr. Francis. He manages to make fairy tales seem decidedly unmagical. We’re learning from the Book of Church Fairy Tales. It’s designed to help us remember proper Churchly behavior. Little children read from it, but now we’re studying the fairy tales on the basis of their literary merit as well.
I sit in the front of the class. Ruby may be a purple orb now, but I’m determined to outshine her with my grades. As a girl who hasn’t received her orb yet, it’s important I focus on my studies -- purple orbs can get away with handing things in late. I cannot. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to because the Church says dedication to your work purifies your soul.
Though it maybe be difficult, I make myself focus on Dr. Francis as he paces in front of the whiteboard. It’s hardly white anymore, being decorated with smudges from the erasable markers. My desk, with its tiny plastic chair, is uncomfortable and uneven, too. I rock back and forth, hearing the metal leg of the chair squeak against the old linoleum floor. The school budget went to things besides new chairs and a new whiteboard.
“Who would like to summarize the plot of The Tale of the Golden Prince?” he asks as he crosses the room. He clasps his hands behind his back, and he seems a bit manic. His eyes shine, like the fairy tale is the most important thing in the world.
For some reason, I’m a bit reluctant to raise my hand when I remember the actual plot of the story. It is not one of my favorite Church fairy tales. I still raise my hand, but my brief moment of hesitation costs me. Dr. Francis calls on another girl in the front row.
“Charlotte? Would you like to answer?” he says, smiling at my perky blonde classmate.
“I would be glad to,” Charlotte chirps. She practically bounces in her seat. “It’s the story of two young farm girls. They’re best friends who do everything together, even promising they’ll marry one another when they come of age. Of course, they’re young and don’t understand girls can’t marry other girls. When they’re of age, they’re still inseparable and go to visit the local priest to get his blessing to marry each other. The poor things never grew up. The priest prays to the gods to save the two young ladies, and the gods respond by sending two princes to them: a Golden Prince for the one, and a Silver Prince for the other.”
I can’t help wondering if I will ever meet a guy who’s like a prince -- this school seems to be lacking in guys with that particular princely charm.
“The first girl accepts her Golden Prince, for he is perfect in every way for her, and she’ll get to be a princess. The other girl doesn’t accept her Silver Prince, being foolish and misguided,” Charlotte says. She sighs, as if sad for the second girl.
“She grows jealous of the first girl and her Golden Prince, and even tries to ruin their wedding by sneaking in uninvited and poisoning the wine. The Golden Prince, with powers given him by the gods, senses the treachery and stops the new Princess from drinking it. He turns on the second girl, disguised as a server, and unmasks her. Still, she does not confess, instead declaring her undying love for the new Princess. The Golden Prince has no choice but to force her own poison wine down her throat, as punishment from the gods. He and his new bride go on to live happily ever after,” she says.
Dr. Francis claps his hands together. “Very good, Charlotte,” he exclaims. “Now who would like to tell me what lesson this fairy tale teaches us?”
I don’t raise my hand, though I know I should. Dr. Francis’ eyes widen as he points to a girl in the back row. “Yes, Wren? Would you like to tell us what lesson this story teaches?”
“It teaches us to make sure we have taste testers when we get married so we don’t drop dead in our wedding finery,” she mutters. I turn to look at her -- Wren has her arms crossed over her chest and her dark brown eyes are hard. Her chin length black hair has scandalous pink streaks in it, and her clothes, with their combination of black, bright pink, and actual leather are not what a proper Church girl should wear. I can’t help thinking she would be quite pretty if she weren’t so obviously rebellious. Her dark brown skin seems not to have a blemish on it.
Several other students look at Wren. They can’t seem to believe what she said. Neither can I -- I know I wouldn’t dare speak out that way. Our teacher tsk-tsks, and I turn my attention back to him.
He shakes his head. “Wren, that’s not it at all. You need to take the lesson seriously,” he says.
“I’ll be sure to give the story all the respect it deserves,” Wren says. There’s a strange inflection to her voice, almost as if she thinks the story doesn’t deserve any respect at all. It’s a Church fairy tale -- as antiquated as the setting of it may be, of course it deserves respect.
Dr. Francis turns away from Wren. “So, anyone else?” he asks, resuming his pacing of the classroom.
This time, I do raise my hand, making myself shoot it up into the air quickly enough my teacher has to notice me. This may not be my favorite fairy tale, but that’s no reason not to be a good student.
His eyes fall on me. “Yes, Gemma? What does The Tale of the Golden Prince teach us?” he murmurs.
I nod and put my hand down while gathering my thoughts. “The lesson is about...proper, Churchly relationships. It -- teaches us who is right to love, and who is wrong to love. It shows the consequences of loving your own gender, how that...twists you. Makes you evil. The first girl, who accepted her role and the right kind of love, triumphed. The second girl, who clung to her deviant feelings, failed, ultimately...” I take a deep breath. “She ultimately paid with her life. The Tale of the Golden Prince shows the darkness and sin behind deviant feelings. It -- shows what can happen if you don’t follow the right path in love. If you don’t make the right choice.”
Dr. Francis breaks out in a huge smile. He claps his hand together again. “Very good, Gemma,” he says. “The fairy tale does indeed teach of the evil of choosing the wrong kind of love. It’s a good lesson to remember.”
When his attention drifts from me, I dare to glance at the clock on the wall. I’m more than ready for class to be over.
“Yes, Wren? Do you have something else to say?” he asks.
I can’t help turning around to look at Wren. She’s speaking up again? Her eyes are still hard, and I wonder what she’ll say this time.
“What if it’s not a choice?” Wren says.
“Excuse me?” Dr. Francis says. He looks completely confused. I’m confused, too -- what if what isn’t a choice?
“Loving your own gender. What if you can’t just decide to love the opposite one? What if you’re just kind of -- wired to want your own? What do you do then, if it’s as deviant as the Church says?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest again.
I gasp -- of course it’s a choice. I’m not the only one making noises of surprise, either. All eyes are on her, and the air in the room is tense enough it’s difficult for me to breathe. My heart thuds.
My teacher’s eyes are equally hard. “The Church believes that nobody is so ‘wired’ to want their own gender that they can’t make the righteous choice. Some people are corrupt enough that they choose sin, but nobody has to choose sin,” he says.
Wren smiles, though it looks fake. “Thank you for enlightening me, Dr. Francis. I obviously want to follow Churchly ways, so I’m glad you cleared that up for me,” she says. If I didn’t know better, I would say her voice dripped with false sincerity and actual sarcasm. Our teacher doesn’t seem to notice this, though he does look at her suspiciously.
“Of course, Wren,” he says. “Now, let’s try to stay on topic, shall we? We don’t need any more derailing questions, even...well-intentioned ones.”
I chance another look at the clock -- after the incident with Wren, I find it difficult to concentrate on the lesson. I want to get out of here and go to where people don’t sound like they’re questioning the Church and its lessons.
After all, the Church knows what’s best and can do no wrong.
next chapter