And Christy.
“I heard you were at Dana Hickman’s party on Friday.” Christy had been waiting for me on the front steps, and after a few hellos, my parents had left us there. “I heard you showed up with Bo Dickinson and her cousin. And that you danced with him. That can’t be true, though, right?”
But by the way she asked, it was clear she knew well and good that it was.
Still, I had no clue what to say. I couldn’t lie, and didn’t want to. But if I confirmed, told her it was true, I knew she’d never let it go. I knew she’d grab my arm in that way she did, so tight it hurt, and tell me she was worried about me. And maybe she should be.
So I didn’t say anything. Just nodded and started for the door of the sanctuary. It was almost time for Sunday school after all.
But Christy followed. She stuck close to me in the sanctuary, her hand grasping my upper arm, so anyone else might think she was guiding me. She wasn’t, though. She was holding me back.
“What were you thinking?” she whispered, her mouth close to my ear, flecks of spit hitting my cheek.
“She invited me,” I said. “And I wanted to go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best friend, Agnes.”
I was surprised by how sad she sounded when she said this. Like I’d really hurt her. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected from the girl who told Dana Hickman I was clingy.
“You weren’t at school,” I said. “And I didn’t think it mattered. You never invite me to parties.”
“Of course I haven’t. Parties are dark and you’re blind. You wouldn’t have fun anyway.”
It wasn’t as if Christy had never said these things before. But for the first time, I felt a twinge of annoyance.
I was starting to realize that I’d spent years letting people tell me what I could and couldn’t do, what I would and wouldn’t enjoy because of my vision. And I let them because they were looking out for me. But since meeting Bo that day in the woods, my feelings had slowly begun to shift and tilt.
And after Friday night, going to a party, dancing in the grass, running through cornfields—things people would tell me I shouldn’t or couldn’t do—I didn’t want people like Christy making those decisions for me anymore.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe I wouldn’t have had fun with you. But I sure did with Bo.”
She gasped, about as surprised as I was that those words had just come out of my mouth. I’d never said anything like that to Christy. Never had the nerve. Even when I’d disagreed with her in the past, I mostly kept it to myself, scared of making her mad at me. Even now, I felt a weight settling on my chest, an old, anxious feeling I always got when I did something wrong.
Christy dropped my arm with a huff. “Find your own way to the classroom,” she said before stomping off.
Despite my unease over what I’d said to her, I nearly laughed. I’d been going to this church since I was a baby. I could find my way around it in the dark without a cane, just like my own house, if I needed to. Getting to our Sunday school class without her wasn’t a problem.
Unfortunately, the only seat left when I got to the room was the one right next to hers.
“Good morning, everyone,” Miss Kelly, our Sunday school teacher, said once I’d sat down. “Let’s get started with a prayer. Anyone have prayer requests today?”
“Can we pray for my aunt Georgia?” a younger boy, Eli, asked. “We just found out she’s got cancer.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Eli. We’ll all pray for her. Anyone else?”
A few others requested prayers for friends and family members going through hard times. Then, I felt Christy’s hand brush my shoulder as she raised it.
“Miss Kelly,” she said, using her sweet, candy-covered voice. “I have a prayer request, too.”
The weight pressed harder on my chest as dread piled onto the anxiety.
“Of course, Christy. Go ahead.”
“I know there are some among us who might be struggling,” she said. “Who’ve lost their way. Aligned themselves with sinners. I just pray for those people. I hope they can find their path again.”
My cheeks burned. She hadn’t said my name, and I couldn’t see anyone’s faces just then, but I was sure everyone was looking at me. Sure they knew Christy meant I was the one aligning myself with sinners. And she was right. Bo Dickinson was a sinner if ever there was one. Between the fights and the boys and—after what she’d told me last night—the girls, too. Maybe I needed their prayers.
But, God help me, I didn’t want them.
I took a deep breath, knowing I should just stay quiet. Bite my tongue.
“Well, all right,” Miss Kelly said, sounding a little confused. “Sure. If that’s everyone, let’s join hands and—”
“Wait.”
I knew I ought to be quiet, but I was tired of doing what I ought to.
“Yes, Agnes?”
“I have a prayer request, too,” I said.