Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature (17 page)

But I wasn't telling Casey any of that.

Because I know a sign when I see one. Kayla's reminder about my integrity was more than just a coincidence. It was a message from above telling me to stop sitting on the floor next to Casey and letting my arm brush against his and smelling how nice his hair smells and barely even paying attention to the movie most of the
time—which I shouldn't even have been watching in the first place—because I was too busy holding my breath waiting for something to happen that I'm not supposed to be wishing would happen anyway.

I'd been busted.

Casey looked disappointed I was leaving, but I'd already gone much further than I should have. We had watched practically all of
The Two Towers
—which, I have to say, from the parts I paid attention to, is a really good movie that doesn't seem the least satanic. I'm sure if I stayed longer, Casey would have talked me into watching
The Fellowship of the Ring
to catch up, and then there'd be no going back—I'd have to watch
The Return of the King
someday to see how it all ends. This is how temptation traps you.

Casey and I found his mother sitting on the stool in her office, hunched over a set of plans on her drafting table. She seemed happy for the interruption and agreed to give me a ride. “You coming, honey?” she asked Casey.

“No,” we both said quickly. I had already explained to Casey that my parents are strict and so I was pretending Kayla was him, just so they wouldn't get nervous. He seemed to think that was funny.

“Okay, well, I'll see you at school,” I said. I felt a little relieved. I definitely need the Sabbath off from Casey. I can't keep hanging around him like this if I'm ever going to get him out of my system. Not that that will be a problem, starting next Saturday. It's just the time in between I need to worry about.

On the way home Mrs. Connor and I chatted about the dogs and confessed which ones are our favorites. I like Christmas and Bear—Christmas because she's the sweetest thing on earth, and Bear because he's just such a fun-loving brat. Mrs. Connor prefers Lily and Blue, who she can't get used to calling Shadow because Blue already seems like a good name. But we both agreed we'll miss each and every one of them every day.

As she pulled up in front of my house, Mrs. Connor said she hoped I'd enjoyed my day. “You know you're welcome anytime. My kids really like you.” She elbowed me gently. “Me too.”

“Thanks.” It felt good to hear that, but it hurt at the same time, knowing I won't be back after next week.

Mrs. Connor glanced toward my house. “I feel like I should come in and introduce myself to your parents.”

“Oh … um, no, that's okay. They're really shy.”

The last thing I needed was Mrs. Connor telling my parents, “Oh, my son has been having such a good time with your daughter!”

Cue my parents choking to death.

I needed to change the subject. “Um, I meant to tell you, I really, really love your house.”

“I do, too,” she said. “There's so much of Jack in it.”

I didn't know what to say to that. So I just told her good night and got out.

I have
got
to start reading
Red Horizon
tonight. I feel like I owe it to all of them.

Thirty-five

Even though I've spent enough time reading the Bible lately to write a dozen reports for my parents, I know the one I
won't
be writing for them this morning is the thing I'm writing for Kayla's website. Because my parents would not understand.

No, they'd understand. They'd just be very unhappy.

So when they left for church this morning, I quickly knocked out my report on the prodigal son for them, then went back to working on my Bible Grrrl piece so I can show it to Kayla tomorrow.

Because I'm sure now about what I read. I've thought it through and I know I'm right.

Which makes me nervous, but that's not a reason not to do it. In fact, there's an argument to be made that everything that's happened to me and the people I've met in the past few weeks—Casey and Kayla and Ms. Shepherd— have led me to exactly this moment, and that this is my destiny, if you want to call it that. I think God has called me to do this.

So I'll spend my church time this morning writing the piece as well as I can, and then I'm going to put it out of my mind. What will happen will happen.

And then I can spend the rest of the day doing homework and reading
Red Horizon.

This might be the best Sunday I've had in weeks.

Thirty-six

Well, that didn't take long. The gossips at church work just a little slower than the internet, but they can still get the job done.

It took me only a fraction of a millisecond to know what was going to happen once I saw my mother standing in my doorway holding a copy of the
Post
that someone had given to her at church.

“THIS is that Kayla Connor girl?” she said, slapping the front page.

I'd forgotten Kayla's name was on it.

I did the best I could explaining everything—how Kayla's just a reporter, she has to write the stories assigned to her (luckily my parents didn't notice she's also editor in chief), blah, blah, blah, but it didn't do any good.

So.

1. I am hereby forbidden to have anything more to do with “that Kayla Connor girl.”
   

2. I am hereby forbidden to do any more work with her on my science project, even though I explained that I have to because the puppies are hers, but my parents say too bad, find another project.
   

3. I am from now on required to associate only with members of our church (as if) or with other people of “similar belief” to ours, and my parents will from now on be calling the parents of such potential, nonexistent friends to interview them and make sure they are the kinds of people with whom I should associate.
   

4. From this day forward my life will irrevocably, irretrievably, monumentally SUCK.
   

Thirty-seven

I didn't have the heart to tell Casey I have to abandon our project. Instead, when I ran into him in the hall outside biology this morning, I put on a fake smile and went with “Hey, your dad's book is
amazing.”

Casey smiled. He almost looked relieved. “You liked it, huh?”

“I
loved
it. I still have to finish it tonight, but that whole Catrina and Will thing with the starfire, and the battle with the Weavers—I can't believe your dad could even write all that.”

My heart wasn't in it—even though it really is a good book. How can you talk about science fiction when your real world has just been hit by an asteroid? But even if I had been ready to spill my guts to Casey just then, I didn't get the chance, since once he opened the door all we could focus on was the Back Turners’ new display.

There they sat, all in a pod, wearing their own matching T-shirts—neon green, fairly hideous—with their own snappy slogan:
JESUS SEZ: HAVE FAITH—EVEN SCIENTISTS CAN BELIEVE.

What a rip-off.

Ms. Shepherd sat at her desk drinking her venti Starbucks and ignoring them while she flipped through a science journal.

But this time when the bell rang and Ms. Shepherd called out in her most bored voice ever, “Evolution,” nothing happened.

The Back Turners stayed forward.

That got Ms. Shepherd's attention. “Ah, I see. An evolution in tactics. Variation and adaptation. Good. Maybe I won't have to give you all zeros today.”

Teresa raised her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Roberts?” Ms. Shepherd asked nicely. “You have a question about SCIENCE?”

“Even if evolution is true, that still doesn't explain how it all started. Someone or something had to create the first … thingamajigger.”

“Atom?” Ms. Shepherd suggested. “Proton? Organism?”

“Yeah,” Teresa said, bored with the details, “whatever. That still doesn't say who created the universe in the first place.”

“Excellent point,” Ms. Shepherd said, which surprised Teresa. “And let us first reiterate the class policy of upholding the separation of church and state. That said, does anyone want to venture a scientific explanation for the origin of the universe?” She scanned the room.

Of course Casey's hand shot up.

“Mr. Connor. Four thousand words or less, please.”

And so Casey started rattling off this long explanation
that I can't even begin to remember, but it involved atoms and subparticles and quarks and collisions and waves and whatnot. And I just sat there watching his mouth move, listening to the sounds coming out of it, growing more and more depressed because I suddenly realized with blinding clarity that there is no way on earth Casey Connor will ever consider me for a girlfriend when I am so obviously, desperately beneath him. I mean, come on! Anyone can see that. What was I thinking?

When Casey finished his recitation, Ms. Shepherd thanked him and told him he was two hundred eighty words over, but she understood it was a difficult thing to condense.

Teresa raised her hand again. “He didn't say WHO created it. That was the question.”

“As you may remember me explaining once before,” Ms. Shepherd said, “science is the how of things. It's the raw mechanics. The who and why of all things, we leave to other disciplines.”

“But what do YOU think?” Teresa challenged, and I could see from the smug look on her face that this was the whole point of the confrontation. She must have been told by Pastor Wells to try to tie Ms. Shepherd down— force her to say she doesn't believe in God.

Ms. Shepherd is no idiot. “The taxpayers of this community do not pay me to discuss my personal views. I share personal views on my own time. In here, I teach facts. And one fact you may have noticed on the syllabus,” she said to the class at large, “is that today is the last day of our
unit on evolution. Put away your books, pull out paper and pencil. Time to see what you've learned.”

Groans all around. I noticed Teresa wasn't happy at all. Ha. She knew she was looking at a big fat F.

I was just bending down to put my book in my backpack when Casey nudged me with his knee. I wasn't expecting him to touch me. I practically hit my head on the desk.

“What'd you think?” he whispered. “About my explanation?”

“Oh yeah—it was great,” I whispered back, smiling weakly. He is so clearly out of my league.

It's hopeless.

Here I've been worrying about what I should do to back off from Casey and not get in too deep, when obviously I haven't got the slimmest chance with him anyway. He must view me as some kind of lab partner charity case. It's not like Josh getting paired with Kayla. Of course he wanted to be her boyfriend afterward—they both have freakish mega-brains.

But as painful as it is, I guess the upside of finally understanding the truth is that I don't have to torture myself anymore. I still like Casey—there's nothing I can do about that right now—but at least I don't have to worry about hurting his feelings one day when he asks me to be his girlfriend. What a joke.

I am such an idiot. But it's better to realize that now than before I do something truly ridiculous like ever letting Casey know how I feel.

We took the quiz and I think I did all right. It's weird to think that was it—all this evolution stuff has come to a close. I mean, it's still out there—those men from the church might get elected to the school board, and then who knows what might happen. I read in the
Post
that none of the other science teachers are planning to teach evolution until later in the semester. I guess maybe they're waiting to see what happens. I suppose there will be Back Turners in those classes, too, and the whole protest will continue for however long people want to keep it up. But for our class, looks like it's over.

All these endings—the puppies, evolution, Casey.

As I gathered up my stuff at the end of class, all I could think about was how I was going to have to break it to Casey at lunch that I can't help him finish our project. Either I'll get partial credit for what I've already done, or I'll have to go think up some new project that I can do without ever stepping foot in Casey's house again.

But then as if all that wasn't bad enough, I'm heading for the door when Ms. Shepherd says, “Ms. Reece, can I have a word?”

Thirty-eight

“I understand from the earful I got this morning,” Ms. Shepherd said, “that I am to reassign you to a new science entor. I didn't realize we had science mentors at New dvantage.”

“I—”

“Or that Ms. Connor had volunteered. How generous— I'll have to thank her. In the meantime, my instructions are to pair you with someone—how did Mrs. Martinez put it?—mature, noncontroversial, et cetera. So, I'm open to suggestions, since you seem to know more about this mentoring program than I do.”

The thing is, she didn't seem mad. She wasn't smiling, but she also wasn't glaring at me with those death-ray eyes like she'd given Pastor Wells. Not that what I'd done was even a tenth as bad as him coming in and trying to take over her class. But still, Ms. Shepherd probably had the right to be angry.

I proceeded cautiously. “Um, here's the thing. …” I explained that there'd been some trouble at home because
of some of the people from my church. “The Back Turners— you know, the people from in here …”

“I read the
Post,
Ms. Reece. Consider me informed.”

And then I rattled it off as fast as I could—Casey's and my project (I didn't tell her what—I wasn't going to spoil it for Casey); the fact that my parents wouldn't want me going over to a boy's house, even if it were perfectly innocent and in pursuit of science (to which Ms. Shepherd said, “Good thinking. Scientists are notorious playboys”— not sure if she was joking); Kayla coming up with the KC thing—

Ms. Shepherd held up her hand to stop me. “Let's cut to the chase.” Kids from her next class were already streaming in. “One, lying is for the weak-minded. If you can't think of a truthful way to solve your problems, you're not thinking hard enough. Two, it's a good semester when I have very little interaction with the administration. In the last two weeks I've enjoyed far too much of it. Can you assure me this will be the last time Mrs. Martinez hears from your parents?”