I failed to notice any difference in the boys that Sunday. As I climbed the concrete porch steps, adrenaline fizzed in my stomach and my fingers tingled, as usual. A long-abandoned mailbox had its scalloped lid flipped open and a family of sparrows made it their home. I wondered if Luke Hamilton was here. Was my slip showing? The blood drained from my face and I pushed open the front door, caught the cool air and the whirr of the window unit. I stepped across the threshold and shuddered at how my butt must look as I walked in and past them.
“Up from the Grave he Arose,” they sang in their half-circle, heaving the manly hymn that hung a full octave too low for their voices. Each boy stared into his blue hymnal, laid open in front of him. Their heads bobbed up in unison to register the latecomer. Then they quickly looked away.
I joined my friends in the back room and slid in beside Abbie. Lottie Beth Hobbs spoke to us from a paperback called, Daughters of Eve, about the duties and pitfalls of womanhood.
“Okay, last week we talked about the dangers of gossip,” Mrs. McQuerry said, sweeping our circle with a smile. Her dark hair silvered at the temples and she wore a trim coral suit.
Mrs. McQuerry listened to our tragic feelings and she confessed things about herself. “This week we get to read about Jezebel,” she said.
We orated the chapter in turns. Jezebel was selfish and self-willed. She provoked her husband to sin. She dominated and usurped his authority as the man of the house. Jezebel made all the mistakes we would avoid.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish