Chapter 13
The trouble with tragedy, Victor reflected, was that the world kept on going regardless of how he felt about it.
He remembered when his dad died seven years ago. How that death broke and rearranged everything—but the world around him stayed the same. Kids kept going to school, adults kept going to work. As if dad being gone didn't matter at all.
Losing dad had hurt, but he'd buried the pain over the years. He hadn't built up any callouses for losing Jane.
He went through Monday morning on autopilot. Woke up. Got dressed. Brushed his teeth. Walked to school. Breakfast hadn't made it into the equation, but his appetite was zilch anyway. Empty and desolate, he trudged to school.
He'd almost forgotten that Monday was the big day. Not that he really felt like doing much—but it wouldn't be right to let everyone else down. Besides, he didn't have to do much except watch and make sure it went according to plan.
Victor zoned out during his classes. He dreaded lunch. More than anything, he wanted to see Jane again—except he didn't. Didn't want the reminder that she wasn't interested in his spindly, geeky self. Had she told Daria about the date? Maybe they were mocking him and his hobby that very moment.
He supposed he didn't blame them.
Lunch came. Priscilla's height made her a little easier to spot in the crowd, so he walked directly toward her, not willing to see who else he passed by that day.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey, Victor." She observed him for a moment. "I was going to ask how things went with Jane… but by the looks of it, I'm guessing not well."
Victor shook his head and swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's okay," he lied. "We have a job to do. I'll hold the line."
"Sorry. I called everyone yesterday to make sure they still understood the plan. We should be good to go, unless Kevin forgot or got confused in the past twenty-four hours—which is a very real possibility."
"Thanks," he said. Calling the other plotters yesterday would've been beyond him, and he was glad Priscilla had made the effort.
"What went wrong?" Priscilla asked.
He didn't want to relive the miserable date by talking about it more than he had to. "Jane's just going through a lot right now. Not a good time for her to date, I guess."
"I still don't see the point of dating," Priscilla said. "It's a completely modern invention, anyway. About sex and money, not love."
Victor said nothing.
"Still, I know it meant something to you, so yeah. Sorry it didn't work."
"Thanks. Uh, do you need to talk to Rebecca? You were planning to do something with her."
"I'm about to. Hope this works," she said, and then disappeared into the crowd.
Rebecca waved as Priscilla strode toward the table occupied by the Christian Students Club. Priscilla wondered if Rebecca's mouth ever got sore from smiling so much.
"Guys!" she exclaimed. "Priscilla's here—Priscilla, I couldn't help telling them you'd be joining us today, I was just so excited! I didn't tell them why, though. That's for you to do!"
She grabbed Priscilla and held her a bit more tightly than was comfortable. Priscilla faked a smile as the rest of the clique gave their cautious hellos.
They had no idea what was about to go down.
"Priscilla: do you want to make your announcement?" Rebecca clasped her hands together and bounced up on her tiptoes for a moment.
Rebecca was so chipper all the time. The happiness of someone who believed God Almighty was no more than a holy delivery service, granting parking spaces and A's on tests if you just prayed enough.
More than enough justification for what Priscilla was about to do.
"Yes," she said. "I came here because… I've been hiding the light of the Lord, and it's time I shared it."
"That's great!"
"Right on!"
And a chorus of other affirmations. She scanned the crowd briefly. Brittany hadn't arrived yet, but she did see Bob waiting in position. He gave her a thumbs up, the movement so quick she almost wasn't sure she'd seen it.
"In fact," Priscilla said, "I'd like to announce it to the entire school."
Priscilla put her backpack on the table, unzipped it, and took out the megaphone she'd brought from home. The students gasped.
"She's going to testify!"
"Priscilla's so courageous!"
Priscilla stepped onto the bench and then onto the table. Heads were starting to turn. She raised the megaphone to her lips and pressed the button.
"My name's Priscilla Pruitt, and I'm a Christian!" she proclaimed, her amplified voice blasting through the room. "I believe in God, and I love Christ!"
"Praise be!" Rebecca, and a few others cried out.
"And Lawndale is sorely in need of Christ's word!" Priscilla continued, ignoring the wriggling doubt in the back of her mind. "Want to know why? Well, look at the big houses and the fancy cars! Look at the bloated restaurants serving overpriced food while people starve on the streets!"
That grabbed more attention. A few of the Christian students suddenly looked hesitant. But Rebecca still seemed to be all in.
Priscilla plowed ahead. "I bring you a message directly from Christ: 'And again I say unto you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God!' And you know what? I see a lot of rich kids, here."
"Wait, is she a commie? I thought she said she was a Christian," someone said.
Now some of the lunchroom monitors were making noises. They moved forward, eyes angry and jaws set, but the sheer glut of students in their way slowed them down.
"But there is hope!" Priscilla proclaimed. "Not in Pharisaic platitudes, but in doing the Lord's will. As Jesus said: 'If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven!'"
"Get her down!" came the yells.
Sure enough, the Christian kids were backing away and looking at each other nervously. Their fear fueled her. Then she saw Rebecca, her mouth open and her eyes full of tears. Was she crying from being confronted with her own hypocrisy? No—it looked like awe in her eyes.
"So?" Priscilla gestured to the crowd, specifically to the students nearest her. "What are you waiting for? Because this weekend, I went to the thrift store and sold all the clothes and shoes I didn't need. I sold my makeup, I sold my laptop, I sold a bunch more—I have the receipts to prove it, too!"
She reached into her pocket and grabbed a fistful of receipts, holding them over her head so everyone could see.
"Then I took every dollar I had, including the proceeds, and gave it all to the homeless on Dega Street—not to some charity, but directly to the people who need it! And judging by the clothes you wear, Rebecca, Ken, the rest of you, you all have a lot more you can give! And judging by Ananias's fate, we know what the Lord thinks about shirkers!"
She shouted now, her face red with righteous fury. This was what God required.
Below Priscilla, Rebecca had raised her hands to her cheeks. "You are on fire for the Lord, Priscilla! I'll give away everything I have!"
Wait, didn't she get Priscilla had been trying to mock her?
No, no, no! The Christian Students Club—Rebecca especially—were supposed to hate Priscilla for this! Hate her because she threw their Sunday-only hypocrisy right in their faces, because she reminded them they were too cowardly to do what Christ demanded.
The monitors finally reached her, burly and decidedly unimpressed with her speech. A middle-aged woman reached out with surprising quickness and yanked the megaphone right from Priscilla's hand.
"Let her speak!" Rebecca yelled, suddenly throwing herself into the fray to push the monitors back. A few others joined her, though most of the Christian Students Club lived down to Priscilla's low expectations and stayed back.
Then she heard the crash of falling furniture and a storm of yells as chaos as the next part of the plan launched into action.