Denial by Stephanie Wilson (best books to read for young adults txt) 📕

I went to turn back to the front, but she smiled at me.

“Sorry,” she said again, “but I don’t think we’ve met, have we?”

“No. It’s my first time here.”

“Oh fantastic, welcome!” (she said it so enthusiastically I was tempted to question how genuine it was).

“Hayley, just in case you wanted to know – which I’m sure you don’t.”

 “Anna,” I said, shaking her outstretched hand.

She opened her mouth as if to say more, but the organ had suddenly stopped and a general hush came over the church. I turned my attention to the front and saw a man come to the podium, dressed in traditional black clothing. He was maybe mid forties had blond hair cut short and smiled, arms open in a gesture of welcome.

 “Welcome,” he called his voice soft and smooth, “what a pleasure it is to see so many people here today – and I do believe I see a few new faces.”

I couldn’t be sure, but I think his gaze flickered two me for a second. I felt myself straighten uncomfortably.

     "For those who don’t know me, my name is Reverend Bishop. Today I have what I personally feel is a truly inspired sermon on forgiveness, though feel free to correct me if I’m wrong,” there was a light endearing chuckle throughout the church, “I am serious though, I have been known to be wrong, just ask my wife – she would be happy to agree,” another wave of chuckles, “but first let us stand and start with a hymn.”

     Everyone stood and the organ started up again, playing a cheerful little tune.

    “Here,”’ Hayley whispered, passing me an open song book. The title on the page was ‘Awake my Soul, and with the Sun.’ I had no attention of signing, but I took the book anyway with a begrudging smile.

   A mess of people began singing in and out of tune throughout the church, and it sounded oddly joyous. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable that I wasn’t signing, I followed along half heartedly, finding it difficult to focus both on the tune and the words at the same time. I was also feeling quite abashed by Hayley, who was truly belting it out in an amazing melodic voice, quite confident and not even slightly embarrassed by it, apparently.

   When the song finished, everyone sat and Reverend Bishop started his service. He spoke well, soft it places, then gradually louder as he came closer to the point. He didn’t quote much directly from the bible, but rather discussed stories. He talked of the importance of acknowledging that we all make mistakes, of how we need to learn to forgive not only other for their mistakes, but ourselves as well. We needed to learn to strive harder, to talk to God more often for guidance, so that we can learn from the mistakes in our future. He even told a story of how he himself made a mistake not so long ago, when a man crashed into him whilst he was driving with his daughter, and how he had yelled at the man. Calling him names he dare not repeat.

   God had told him later of his mistake, and he rang the man and apologized for his behaviour. And the man apologized to for his driving. It was a typical sermon, I suppose (not being an expert in such matters), but the way he spoke, and the little touch of his own true stories made it better that the few sermons I have heard before. In my Valiumed state, it felt almost like I could see the words dancing before me.

  “And now,” he said after he did a quick prayer, “my lovely daughter has a song for us while the donation plate is being passed around. Once it has made its rounds, we will give communion.”

 To my surprise, Hayley quickly got up, making her way to the front gracefully long stride. She lightly kissed her apparent Dad on the check, again with absolutely no shame, then sat down behind a keyboard - quickly adjusting the microphone to her level.

 She sang a beautiful song, with absolute confidence. It was a slow song, filled with emotion in every word. You could hear the she meant and believed in every word that she sung. The church was dead quite as they all listened, enthralled. I wondered if maybe she was older then she looked just by the confidence that she projected.

 It looked like she had inherited her Dad’s ability to keep a rooms attention.

 As she sang, a decorative bowl was passed around and people were putting coins and notes in it. I noted with mild surprise that neither Mrs Abbott or Mr Abbott put any in. I followed suit, not having anything on me anyway and turned and passed the bowl to an elderly lady behind me, who smiled and said “thanks dear.”

 When she finished, Reverend Bishop did the whole communion speech and the organ started up again. People got up and began filing down the middle. I was sitting furthest from the middle of the aisle, so it was slow progress to the middle.

 When I got there, I let a family go before me from the aisle behind, and then filed in behind them – creating a gap between me and the Abbott’s which was not wholly unintentional. I was staring out of the stained windows, admiring the colours…

 “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I jumped at the whispers so close to my ear and turned startled to look behind me for the culprit. With an inward groan I realized it was the boy that had been running around the park the other day. I had seen him after all. Perhaps it was the valium, but I didn’t feel as awkward as I should do.

 “Park Boy,” I whispered back as a way of acknowledgment.

 “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said and I glanced back, seeing him look me up and down still with that little cheeky smile on his face, “dressed as you are.”

 “Didn’t anyone tell you?” I replied with an air of confidence I didn’t feel I actually possessed, “It’s dress-up-like-your-Grandmother day.”

 He laughed and then looked quickly abashed as the mother in front of me gave him a stern look. He wasn’t abashed too much though, because he leaned in next to me again – I could smell mint in his breath.

 “Ahh well, I guess I missed that memo. Mustn’t be in the loop as you are.”

“Yes well, it’s a privileged circle. I wouldn’t feel too bad if I were you,” I hissed back.        

 We were almost in front of the line now, when he lent in really close.

 “You know what?” he whispered, so only the two of us could hear, “I find girls that dress up as librarians rather...sexy.”

       I raised my eyebrows at his blatant flirting in the middle of a church.

   "Oh please. You probably find effeminate socks sexy. Besides, it was grandmother, not librarian...and to be quite frank, if you find grandmothers sexy, you may have problems.”

    And with that I went up to Father Bishop, though I heard a distinctly muffled laugh from behind me. I raised both my hands palm upwards, seeing the person before me do that. Fake it until you make it – this sentiment was something I was quite good at.

     “May the body of Christ be with you,” he said, placing the rice cracker in my hand.

     I hesitated, cursing Park Boy for distracting me so that now I didn’t know what to do. Father Carson gave a small smile and mouthed ‘Amen’ at me. I quickly said amen, moved to the women holding the chalice next to him – saw that the mother in front of me had dipped her cracker in and followed suit. I popped the cracker in my mouth, finding the mix of the wine and cracker quite odd and not really that pleasant.

    Everyone was getting ready to leave though people were standing idly chatting with each other. I was making my way over to the Abbott’s, having to step through people roughly to carve a path. It wasn’t until I was right next to them that I realized who they were talking to: Reverend Bishop.

    Whatever it was that they were talking about, Mr Abbott looked like he rather not have to endure it. But as soon as the Reverend saw me he smiled and extended his hand.

  "Ah Anna, is it? Samuel was just telling me about your arrival here in Sunny Haven. How are you finding it so far?”

  I shook his hand politely, conscious of Mr Abbott’s eyes on me.

 "I’ve only been here a few days so I haven’t got much of an opinion yet,”’ I said.

 “That’s a nice honest answer – I’ll ask you again in a month and see if you’ve formed one yet.”

Looking behind him he made a gesture to someone across the room,

“Have you met my daughter Hayley?’

 And so it was that Hayley came to join us, I felt secretly glad by the increasing uncomfortable looking Mr Abbott, remembering the books he ripped sitting in the trash. It was quickly established that I was going to the same school as Hayley, and she said she would be happy to show me around.

 “Oh hey, there is a few people that go to our school here - how about I introduce you to a few of them? Just so you know a few people when you go tomorrow,” she looked at Mr Abbott and added, “quickly, of course.”

"That would be great,” I said, thinking how this would no doubt piss off Mr Abbott so I’m all for some forced interactions.

She took my hand and took me off in the opposite direction – weaving in and out of people.

“Baxter!” she called, and the blonde haired park boy turned to look, “this is Anna, she’s new – Anna, this is Baxter Jesup.”

Baxter extended hi hand, smiled and said: “Nice to meet you.”   

I can play along with this, I thought. Plastering my own smile on my face I shook his hand.

“You too.”

“What classes are you taking? Maybe we’ll be in some of the same ones.”.

I listed off a few and we discovered after a while (because I couldn’t remember the names of my teachers on the transcript) that, along with Hayley, we were in the same English class. Baxter and I also shared physical education together.

It was a habit of mine to make first impressions of new people, and as we chatted aimless for a few minutes I couldn’t help but do this to Baxter Jesup. Blond, tanned, broad shoulders and a typical jock no doubt. My first impressions of him was the all American boy, the giant flirt and very much the hormone ridden teenager. Probably had average grades, probably going for some kind of sport scholarship. I would hazard a guess as to say that he had his share of sex, and that he was good at it. Although that could be wishful thinking on my part.

Hayley Carson. The Preacher’s daughter. She was kind of girl who would pick you up hours out of their way because you had a flat tyre and not bat an eye at doing so. Because it was expected of her by her father or by God…whichever one she claims to be more important on that particular day. She would go to the grave saying it was because she was a nice person though…and perhaps she is.  Probably a bible pusher. Probably has many ulterior motives.

But watching Baxter and Hayley talk for those few minutes it dawned on me that there was something going on. The way Hayley’s hand lingered on his arm, the smile that he gave her (not cocky or mocking, like the one he gave me, but almost shy). The way they almost leaned in too far to hear each other’s answers. They had a thing for each other…but no doubt neither had acted on it.

As soon as