Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature (6 page)

Not that any of that is important. My point is, it's just weird how your mind wanders when you're under stress.

Ms. Shepherd handed Casey a piece of paper and asked him to read it. Meanwhile, she sat serenely on the edge of her desk and sipped her Starbucks.

I couldn't understand what he was reading at first because it was all legal jargon—
Edwards versus somebody, U.S. Supreme Court number something, blah, blah, blah
— but pretty soon I started to catch on. It was some sort of court ruling about teaching evolution in public schools. Ms. Shepherd had obviously come prepared.

When Casey was done, Ms. Shepherd thanked him and let him sit down before fixing her stern gaze on the rest of us.

“Let's be clear about this,” she said. “I teach science.
Intelligent design is not science. It is simply the latest name for a religious philosophy known as creationism. That philosophy says that the universe is too complex to have originated on its own, so some supernatural being must have been involved. That is not something we'll be addressing in this class.

“The United States Supreme Court has made it very clear that teaching creationism in a public school would violate the doctrine of separation of church and state. I happen to believe quite strongly that they are correct. So while I admire your curiosity, Ms. Roberts, you'll have to seek your answers to that particular issue from the clergy rather than from me.”

You could tell the Back Turners didn't like that one bit. They chattered among themselves like chimps, not really sure what to do next. I don't think they expected Ms. Shepherd to be so ready for them. Good. Take that.

“As I explained on Monday,” Ms. Shepherd continued, “I grade on the basis of test scores, lab work, a special project, and class participation. I do not believe in predestination—whether you receive an F in this class is in your own hands. If you choose not to participate, you understand the consequences.

“Now,” she said, her voice brightening, “let us speak of science, shall we?”

I glanced down at my paper. Casey had written,
Love her!

“We're not finished,” Teresa said, still not turning around. It was kind of ridiculous, her arguing to the back of the room.

“You are for now,” Ms. Shepherd answered calmly, “or you can leave my class.”

Teresa had to think about it. But soon the back of her blond head moved subtly side to side, signaling her cohorts they were staying. How nice for the rest of us.

Ms. Shepherd downed a big gulp of coffee and went right on with her lesson as if nothing had happened. As if she weren't looking at the hind parts of half of her class. As if she hadn't just stuffed Teresa's head back into its hole.

I agree with Casey:
Love her.

I watched Ms. Shepherd all during the rest of class, and tried to memorize exactly how she used her voice and her gestures and even her eyes to regain control over that room and show everyone that she was not intimidated and would not be treated disrespectfully. I need to be more like that. I shouldn't be so afraid of everyone all the time. Or at least I shouldn't show it.

Casey was grinning all during class like Ms. Shepherd had won some decisive victory. How can I tell him I've been here before, with Pastor Wells taking on a cause, and seen bodies piling up like no one would believe?

These people are not messing around. If they say New Advantage High School isn't teaching evolution anymore, they're going to make sure that happens.

Oh, please. Why did it have to be this year? Why Ms. Shepherd? And why won't my parents let me move to somewhere safe like Alaska or Nova Scotia?

When the bell rang, the murmur of discontent from the Back Turners lasted all the way out into the hall, when
Teresa finally burst out with “That was the biggest mistake of her life.”

She glared at me, as if I had something to do with Ms. Shepherd's defiance.

Adam couldn't resist adding his one cent.

“How's it feel?” he asked me, ramming me again with his shoulder. This time I was prepared—I held on to my books. “You like that?” he asked.

He was scaring me, but I gave him as evil a look as I could muster.

“Bet you wish you'd kept your mouth shut,” he said.

It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Then I forced myself to laugh. “You think I want to be sitting there with you guys? Acting like a jerk to Ms. Shepherd?”

Adam smirked. “We're gonna be famous.”

That really did make me laugh. Typical Adam. Typical Teresa. Boy, do they love the spotlight.

Before I could find out exactly what he meant by that, I heard Casey ask the question behind me.

“Famous how?”

Adam turned his apelike face toward Casey and stared at him for a second like he was still processing the words. Then he looked back at me. “He your boyfriend?”

My face felt hot. “No.”

“He know about you?”

“Shut up.” I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I didn't want to find out. I also didn't know whether
to defend myself or to flee. Maybe he was going to say something to Casey once I was gone. Maybe he was going to say something no matter what.

Instead the stupid gorilla decided to ram his shoulder into Casey and bounce him off the wall, too. What a jerk. All meat and muscle and no brains.

I held my breath for a second, wondering what Casey was going to do. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ms. Shepherd lurking in her doorway. Apparently she wanted to know, too.

Did Casey push back? Shout an insult? Resort to some childish behavior just like Adam would have?

No. Because Casey isn't like other guys. I'm beginning to see that.

And it's not because he was scared, either. Well, maybe he was, but he certainly didn't show it.

He regarded Adam with a look of mild amusement. “Vex not thy spirit at the course of things, for they heed not thy vexation.”

“What?” Adam had this look like he wasn't sure what language Casey had just spoken.

I was pretty impressed with Casey myself. I'd never thought of handling Adam like that. I've always leaned toward “shut up.”

Adam called Casey a male body part, then stalked off. What a good Christian boy.

For a moment I thought maybe Casey was one of us after all. “Was that from the Bible?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “Marcus Aurelius.”

“Oh.” I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

“Very good, Mr. Connor.”

Casey's head snapped toward the doorway, but Ms. Shepherd had already faded back inside. Casey's pale cheeks burned red.

He turned back to me and cleared his throat. “So, close friend of yours?”

“No.”

“He seems to think he knows you.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn't.” Not as well as he tried, anyway.

Out of habit we started for the library. “So,” Casey said, “this should be fun, huh? The Christians versus the lions. A real battle with the wargs. Oh, sorry—more
Lord of the Rings.
Don't worry, we'll fix you right up—I brought
Fellowship
with me. You can watch it this weekend—what am I saying? You're
required
to watch it this weekend. After we work on the project.”

“Oh. That.”

“Your parents said yes, right?”

“Um, they got home too late,” I lied. “I haven't had a chance to ask them yet.”

Casey looked at me sternly. “Mena, this is serious. We have to get started. We don't have much time.”

“Can you at least tell me what it is?”

“I can, but I won't.” He pulled a cell phone out of his backpack. “Dial away.”

I bit my lower lip and shook my head.

“What is the problem?”

“I promise I'll ask them tonight.” Another lie, but what could I do?

“You promise.”

“Yes.”

“On pain of death.”

“Yes.”

“I'll forgive you on one condition.” He pulled a thick DVD box out of his backpack. “You must watch this in its entirety—appendices and all—by Monday morning. You may take time off only for homework—most particularly, our project. Otherwise, you will be in front of the TV until your eyes bleed. I'm sorry, but it must be done.”

I'm sure I looked less than convinced.

“Swear it.”

“I'm not going to swear.” But I took the DVD from him anyway, just to shut him up.

But of course I can't watch it. I didn't even bring it home tonight—I had to leave it in my locker. I can't afford to have my parents finding that on me anywhere.

So there you have it, Monday through Friday, first week of school. I can say without a doubt this has been one of the least enjoyable weeks of my life. Not at all the way I imagined it when I used to dream about high school.

And if not for Casey, I'm sure it would have been far worse.

Of course, when he finds out on Monday I've been lying to him, that's the end of that.

Guess I should have enjoyed it more while it lasted.

Fourteen

I didn't even bother writing yesterday. What was there to say? A whole day working in my parents’ storeroom, sorting out boxes upon boxes of insurance documents. What more fulfilling work can a girl find?

And now we're here at Sunday. Already. Lately it's been my least favorite day of the week, but considering how the rest of this week has gone, I guess I can't say that anymore.

So here's how it's been going ever since I got kicked out of church: My parents get up early. They do not wake me. They do not want to see me.

I already have my orders: While they are at church until noon, I am to watch a minimum of three religious programs, pray with the TV preachers, and then write a report about what each of the sermons was on.

And then here's the really stupid part: My mother will come home and log on to one of the church websites that list what all of today's TV sermons were about, and she will check my work.

Okay, look. Obviously if she can do that, I CAN DO THAT. Duh.

I tried—I actually did. That first Sunday, I was feeling so bad about everything that had happened, I actually did what my parents wanted me to. I watched three separate programs, listened to loads of special guests and testimonials and “Praise Jesus”es and everything. I even—this is so stupid, because it's so fake—prayed right along with the TV prayers.

But even if you're half brain-dead, you can't help but notice something awfully fishy.

It's all about money. Truly.

“Pledge a thousand dollars today. Call right now. Show God you have faith in Him.”

We're supposed to dial up the 800 number, give them our credit cards, send money to the TV people as proof of our love of God and our trust in Him. I don't think so.

They have all these testimonials on the screen, like they're from actual letters:

I pledged a thousand dollars, and the next week my husband got a ten-thousand-dollar raise.

We couldn't afford it, but I said, “Honey, we can't NOT afford it.” We called in our pledge, and the very next day we received a check for two thousand dollars.

On and on.

And with actual people's names, like Fred Burstal from Washington Oaks and Margaret Hasher from Pinedale, but what's to stop the TV guys from just making up those names and writing the letters themselves? It's not like there are any forensics people up there on-screen examining the letters and saying, “Yep, this is authentic.”

So excuse me for losing a little faith. I'm used to the pitch by Pastor Wells about our duty to tithe ten percent of everything we get, and how our contribution to the church is a showing to God of our gratitude for all He has given us, but Pastor Wells never talks in thousand-dollar increments. I have to give him credit for that.

That first Sunday I wrote up my report, my mom checked it, no praise, no thank you, just silent acceptance. Whatever.

So the next Sunday and the one after that I just did what she did and got the information off the web.

And I'll do the same today, when I get to it. I'm sorry, people, but I have real homework to do. I have hundreds of pages to read for English and world civ, and five paragraphs to write in French, and a few hundred numbers to figure out in algebra. The only class I don't have homework for is biology. Thank you, Ms. Shepherd.

Which reminds me. I'm supposed to be watching
Fellowship of the Ring
right now. Casey said it's about three hours long. Perfect. I could have started watching the minute my parents left for church. But I couldn't lie to them like that.

Sure, technically I'm lying to my parents right now by not watching those TV shows and making up my report, but I am not a dishonest person. And when Casey asks me tomorrow what I thought of it, I'll just have to tell him the truth.

Too bad. You can't please everyone. Lately I can't please anyone.

Fifteen

New week. And I've decided it's time for a new attitude. Time to stop being such a wimp.

So I got to school early today. It's about fifteen minutes before the bell right now, and I'm sitting on the wall outside one of the chemistry classrooms just writing in my fuzzy notebook. I'm not going to bother anyone today, and I'm not going to let them bother me.

I'm going to tell Casey straight out that I didn't watch his DVD, and that I won't ever be able to. My parents have forbidden it, and I respect their decision.

(Which isn't exactly true—the part about respecting their decision. From what I've heard other kids say, I think some of the stuff my parents won't let me watch is probably pretty mild. Not every popular TV show has sex and violence and four-letter words. But it's not really worth the hassle to argue with them about it. I've always had plenty of other things to do, like read and hang out with my friends.

At least I can still read.)

Anyway. I have also decided I am not going to pay attention to Teresa and Bethany or anyone else looking at me and whispering anymore. I'm sick of being paranoid. And if they really are talking about me, then let them. I can't do anything to stop it.

What did Casey say? “Vex not thy spirit at the course of things.” I will vex it not.

I've also decided to stop wearing black all the time. It obviously didn't help—people were still able to spot me in a crowd. Besides, dressing like I want to be invisible only makes me feel weak. I have to be strong. So if that means wearing cute boots and nice pants and a sweet blue shirt that looks especially good on me today for some reason if I do say so myself, then so be it.