Camp NaNo: The Church and Its Orbs - Chapter 3
I'm rewriting my Gemma story, which is tentatively titled The Church and Its Orbs. This is the second chapter. The previous chapters are linked below.
Prologue | 1 | 2
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The next day, Lila and I sit next to each other in homeroom, waiting and wondering what will happen to Morning Prayer. Hazel and Trixie, through the in-school broadcast system, would lead the school in prayer. They obviously can’t do that anymore, being at their Proper Love Reform Centers. I shudder thinking about that -- what even goes on in such places? I can’t imagine they’re gentle, since it’s their job to correct deviance that could damn a girl to oblivion. Shaking my head, I try to push the horror stories out of my mind. It’s nothing more than they deserve, right?
“Are you okay, Gemma?” Lila asks, her brow creased in worry. “You look kinda out of it.”
“I’m fine. Just tired,” I mutter, waving my hand in her direction.
Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Brady, enters the classroom and smiles at all of us. If I’m not mistaken, his gaze lingers on Charlotte, who is in my homeroom as well my Literature class.
“How is everybody today?” he asks.
“I’m great. It’s a lovely day, sir,” Charlotte chirps without even raising her hand. She’s smiling way too much for the early morning. How come she’s always so...chirpy?
As for me, I’m not chirpy at all right now. I would never dream of taking food or drink into a classroom, but I wish we were allowed coffee. Last night, I couldn’t sleep well. While I don’t drink coffee that often, I could really use some.
He nods. “It is a lovely day,” he says. He tugs on his tie and flashes a grin at Charlotte. He turns back to the rest of us. “It’s almost time for morning announcements.”
Mr. Brady looks up at the flat television screen on the wall. It flickers on, showing the black and blue logo of our school. Below the stylized letters spelling out True Devotion High School is pair of praying hands. I always thought having our mascot, and team names, be the Praying Hands was a rather unusual choice.
The picture of praying hands vanishes, to be replaced by -- no way. Ruby is on the screen, wearing a fancy white dress more suited to a Church funeral service than school. Her friend Marguerite stands next to her, also wearing a fancy white dress. That much white is never worn, unless the occasion is solemn, because no soul orbs remain white. It is a deadly color, reflecting a fate worse than death. Oblivion is said to be nothing but an endless, unchanging expanse of white. We use the color in such quantities only to acknowledge the gravest of occasions.
Lila elbows me. “Hey, it’s your sister,” she says.
I say nothing in response; I’m too stunned. While I should be proud of Ruby for getting such a prestigious position, I can’t be. How could I not know about this?
“Good morning, fellow True Devotion students,” Ruby says. Her face is as solemn as her outfit, but her eyes betray something like triumph with the way they almost sparkle.
“Today is a very serious day,” Marguerite says. Her face has the same solemn expression as Ruby’s does. Her eyes even sparkle in the same way.
“As you may know, Hazel Abbott and Trixie Hill, the former leaders of the Popular Prayer Club, were caught together. They were engaging in...intimate activity, which should never happen between two people of the same gender. Most tragically, they are both purple orbs,” Ruby says. Her voice radiates contempt and disgust, even over the television screen. Her mouth curves into a slight smile.
Is she enjoying the poor girls’ fall from grace? It may be terrible what they did, but we’re not supposed to celebrate when people sin. My stomach twists as I stare at the screen.
“They’ve been sent to Proper Love Reform Centers. We can only hope they’re set on the right path,” Marguerite says.
“Hazel and Trixie’s fall left a void in the Popular Prayer Club. Marguerite and I have taken over as leaders in this trying time. Instead of a spoken prayer, let us have a minute of silence for the two sinners. Send them good thoughts, so that they may realize what they’ve done,” Ruby says. She closes her eyes and inclines her head.
Marguerite does the same. I do as well. My thoughts fall to Wren -- I wonder what she’s thinking of this turn of events. Is she behaving like she did in Literature class and openly questioning it? Then, I can’t help thinking of Hazel and Trixie again. Is it so easy to fall into sin, that a pair of purple orb girls can do it? Such...attraction as they had is supposed to instinctually repel good Church girls, but that obviously didn’t happen. It shouldn’t even have been a temptation for girls with strong souls, but it was.
Before I can dwell too much, Ruby announces, “The minute of silence is over. I hope you all sent the girls good thoughts. They’ll need them. Remember, if purple orbs can fall so far, you can, too,” she says. “Remember to keep your own thoughts pure. Impure thoughts lead to impure actions.”
Now, I’m reminded of Lila and how she called boys “tasty.” That certainly wasn’t pure of her, and, with the way Ruby stares at the camera, I can almost imagine she’s looking right at us and seeing our thoughts.
I glance over at my friend. She does look a bit a tense, but she actually rolls her eyes. “I know how to keep my thoughts and my actions apart, thank you very much,” she mutters.
Nervously, I look at Mr. Brady, who doesn’t appear to have heard her.
“Now, for some happier news,” Marguerite says. A obvious and genuine smile breaks across her face, as if Hazel and Trixie have ceased to exist. Ruby wears a similar smile.
While we may be moving onto “happier news,” it’s hard for me to push the fallen girls out of my mind.
“Boys, we’re starting sign ups for Sweetheart Flowers today,” Ruby says. She leans over and grabs something from outside of the screen and holds it up for all of us to see. It’s a pink flower with many petals, resembling a daisy with dyed petals. “We’ve switched to plastic flowers due to concerns about allergies, but your desired Sweetheart will still melt when she receives a flower.”
“This is a great way to start on the path to proper love,” Marguerite says. Her expression and voice become serious again. “Boys of True Devotion, if you’re even thinking of sending a Sweetheart Flower, do it. Prevent yourselves and the girls you love from falling into temptation, if they have such weakness in their hearts.”
My stomach sinks -- while I see Marguerite’s point, I’ve never liked the tradition of Sweetheart Flowers. Boys choose a girl they like and sign up to have a flower sent to her with his name attached on a fancy little card. A messenger girl brings the flower to its recipient, who is then required to seek out the boy who gave it to her and kiss him on the cheek. If a girl refuses to do the kiss, it’s seen as very un-Churchly. She might even be accused of being a sed. The custom is smiled upon by the gods themselves, as part of forming proper relationships, like Marguerite said.
It doesn’t feel very godly to me, to be honest. The whole Sweetheart Flower tradition feels strangely manipulative -- I don’t like the idea of being forced to kiss someone, even on the cheek. If someone does give me a Sweetheart Flower, I will be good and kiss him, but I won’t like it.
Surely there are better ways of meeting my future husband than being forced to kiss him by an unpleasant custom?
next chapter
Prologue | 1 | 2
---------
The next day, Lila and I sit next to each other in homeroom, waiting and wondering what will happen to Morning Prayer. Hazel and Trixie, through the in-school broadcast system, would lead the school in prayer. They obviously can’t do that anymore, being at their Proper Love Reform Centers. I shudder thinking about that -- what even goes on in such places? I can’t imagine they’re gentle, since it’s their job to correct deviance that could damn a girl to oblivion. Shaking my head, I try to push the horror stories out of my mind. It’s nothing more than they deserve, right?
“Are you okay, Gemma?” Lila asks, her brow creased in worry. “You look kinda out of it.”
“I’m fine. Just tired,” I mutter, waving my hand in her direction.
Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Brady, enters the classroom and smiles at all of us. If I’m not mistaken, his gaze lingers on Charlotte, who is in my homeroom as well my Literature class.
“How is everybody today?” he asks.
“I’m great. It’s a lovely day, sir,” Charlotte chirps without even raising her hand. She’s smiling way too much for the early morning. How come she’s always so...chirpy?
As for me, I’m not chirpy at all right now. I would never dream of taking food or drink into a classroom, but I wish we were allowed coffee. Last night, I couldn’t sleep well. While I don’t drink coffee that often, I could really use some.
He nods. “It is a lovely day,” he says. He tugs on his tie and flashes a grin at Charlotte. He turns back to the rest of us. “It’s almost time for morning announcements.”
Mr. Brady looks up at the flat television screen on the wall. It flickers on, showing the black and blue logo of our school. Below the stylized letters spelling out True Devotion High School is pair of praying hands. I always thought having our mascot, and team names, be the Praying Hands was a rather unusual choice.
The picture of praying hands vanishes, to be replaced by -- no way. Ruby is on the screen, wearing a fancy white dress more suited to a Church funeral service than school. Her friend Marguerite stands next to her, also wearing a fancy white dress. That much white is never worn, unless the occasion is solemn, because no soul orbs remain white. It is a deadly color, reflecting a fate worse than death. Oblivion is said to be nothing but an endless, unchanging expanse of white. We use the color in such quantities only to acknowledge the gravest of occasions.
Lila elbows me. “Hey, it’s your sister,” she says.
I say nothing in response; I’m too stunned. While I should be proud of Ruby for getting such a prestigious position, I can’t be. How could I not know about this?
“Good morning, fellow True Devotion students,” Ruby says. Her face is as solemn as her outfit, but her eyes betray something like triumph with the way they almost sparkle.
“Today is a very serious day,” Marguerite says. Her face has the same solemn expression as Ruby’s does. Her eyes even sparkle in the same way.
“As you may know, Hazel Abbott and Trixie Hill, the former leaders of the Popular Prayer Club, were caught together. They were engaging in...intimate activity, which should never happen between two people of the same gender. Most tragically, they are both purple orbs,” Ruby says. Her voice radiates contempt and disgust, even over the television screen. Her mouth curves into a slight smile.
Is she enjoying the poor girls’ fall from grace? It may be terrible what they did, but we’re not supposed to celebrate when people sin. My stomach twists as I stare at the screen.
“They’ve been sent to Proper Love Reform Centers. We can only hope they’re set on the right path,” Marguerite says.
“Hazel and Trixie’s fall left a void in the Popular Prayer Club. Marguerite and I have taken over as leaders in this trying time. Instead of a spoken prayer, let us have a minute of silence for the two sinners. Send them good thoughts, so that they may realize what they’ve done,” Ruby says. She closes her eyes and inclines her head.
Marguerite does the same. I do as well. My thoughts fall to Wren -- I wonder what she’s thinking of this turn of events. Is she behaving like she did in Literature class and openly questioning it? Then, I can’t help thinking of Hazel and Trixie again. Is it so easy to fall into sin, that a pair of purple orb girls can do it? Such...attraction as they had is supposed to instinctually repel good Church girls, but that obviously didn’t happen. It shouldn’t even have been a temptation for girls with strong souls, but it was.
Before I can dwell too much, Ruby announces, “The minute of silence is over. I hope you all sent the girls good thoughts. They’ll need them. Remember, if purple orbs can fall so far, you can, too,” she says. “Remember to keep your own thoughts pure. Impure thoughts lead to impure actions.”
Now, I’m reminded of Lila and how she called boys “tasty.” That certainly wasn’t pure of her, and, with the way Ruby stares at the camera, I can almost imagine she’s looking right at us and seeing our thoughts.
I glance over at my friend. She does look a bit a tense, but she actually rolls her eyes. “I know how to keep my thoughts and my actions apart, thank you very much,” she mutters.
Nervously, I look at Mr. Brady, who doesn’t appear to have heard her.
“Now, for some happier news,” Marguerite says. A obvious and genuine smile breaks across her face, as if Hazel and Trixie have ceased to exist. Ruby wears a similar smile.
While we may be moving onto “happier news,” it’s hard for me to push the fallen girls out of my mind.
“Boys, we’re starting sign ups for Sweetheart Flowers today,” Ruby says. She leans over and grabs something from outside of the screen and holds it up for all of us to see. It’s a pink flower with many petals, resembling a daisy with dyed petals. “We’ve switched to plastic flowers due to concerns about allergies, but your desired Sweetheart will still melt when she receives a flower.”
“This is a great way to start on the path to proper love,” Marguerite says. Her expression and voice become serious again. “Boys of True Devotion, if you’re even thinking of sending a Sweetheart Flower, do it. Prevent yourselves and the girls you love from falling into temptation, if they have such weakness in their hearts.”
My stomach sinks -- while I see Marguerite’s point, I’ve never liked the tradition of Sweetheart Flowers. Boys choose a girl they like and sign up to have a flower sent to her with his name attached on a fancy little card. A messenger girl brings the flower to its recipient, who is then required to seek out the boy who gave it to her and kiss him on the cheek. If a girl refuses to do the kiss, it’s seen as very un-Churchly. She might even be accused of being a sed. The custom is smiled upon by the gods themselves, as part of forming proper relationships, like Marguerite said.
It doesn’t feel very godly to me, to be honest. The whole Sweetheart Flower tradition feels strangely manipulative -- I don’t like the idea of being forced to kiss someone, even on the cheek. If someone does give me a Sweetheart Flower, I will be good and kiss him, but I won’t like it.
Surely there are better ways of meeting my future husband than being forced to kiss him by an unpleasant custom?
next chapter