Outside (4 page)

A few dresses and tops hang from the bar inside the closet. The only one I’ll be able to wear is the long black dress, but that’s only if I can find a suitable top to cover the immodest straps where the sleeves should be.

“Bathroom is across the hall,” she continues. “You’ll have to share with Holly. I hope you don’t mind.”

I don’t tell her that I’m used to sharing a bathroom. Shiloh had one bathhouse for women and one for men separated by the laundry room. There were shower stalls with private dressing areas concealed behind fabric curtains to promote modesty, but Naomi and her friends used to pull the curtain open as I undressed to expose me to the other women and throw mud on me. I’ve never bathed in a room with an actual door. And I’ve never stayed in a house that had a bathroom
in
it.

“Well,” she says after a moment. “I’ll leave you to get settled.” She closes the door as she steps out.

CHAPTER FOUR

ALAINA

Beth’s dining table is taller than the one we had in Shiloh and it’s covered with a pretty purple and gold cloth. The chair swivels as I attempt to climb into it wearing the long dress from the hospital under a large gray shirt with a hood on it that I found in the closet. Once I’m settled, Beth sets a plate of food in front of me.

“Leftover veggie lasagna,” she says. “All the produce is organic. It’s made with eggplant, zucchini, kale, and goat cheese.”

I have no idea what kale is, and under normal circumstances, I hate goat cheese, but I have to sit on my hands so I don’t automatically start shoveling food into my mouth. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until this moment.

I lower my head and quietly say a prayer of thanks to the Lord. Before I can finish, the front door bangs, followed by a loud, “Mom!”

“In here, Holly,” Beth calls, continuing to set plates of food and cups of water on the table. The last thing she sets on the table is a basket of breadsticks slathered in butter and my mouth waters so hard, I worry I might drool on myself.

“Amen,” I whisper quickly, reaching for one of the breadsticks.

A girl my age with shoulder-length, caramel colored hair walks into the kitchen with her head held high. My eyes boggle. Her legs are completely bare! Fully exposed and on display for the world to see! Her arms and shoulders are showing too and her top clings to her body in a way that makes me blush.

She pauses when she sees me at the table.

“Holly, this is your cousin Alaina,” Beth says, slipping into the chair on my right.

Holly scowls, her small, up-turned nose wrinkling. “Cult cousin?”

Putting her hand on Holly’s bare arm, Beth directs her toward the chair across from me. “Yes. Please be polite.”

Holly slides into the chair, eyeing me. “What’s with the sweatshirt? It’s ninety degrees out.”

I blink at her and touch the draw-string hanging from my shirt before glancing at Beth.

“What’s the matter? You don’t talk?” Holly picks up her fork and takes a bite of her lasagna without praying.

“Desirable women of the Lord do not speak unnecessarily,” I say before taking a bite of my own.

Holly snorts and Beth nearly drops her cup of water.

“Yeah, I think I read that scripture,” Holly says, nodding slightly as she scoops another bite onto her fork. I glance up at her, surprised that she’s familiar with the bible at all. And then she says, “Ephesiastians twelve nineteen. ‘Yea, and the Lord sayeth unto thee, shuteth your mouth, lest ye possess testicles, so as not to anger me.’” She giggles, her hazel eyes glittering, and lifts her fork to her mouth.

I stare at her in open-mouthed shock.

“Holly!” Beth’s eyes are wide. “Apologize immediately. You will not disrespect other people’s beliefs in my house. Understand?”

Holly smirks at me as she chews. “Sorry,” she says around a bite of lasagna.

This is it. This is my punishment. My
real
punishment: being forced to live in a house with sinful women who have no regard for the Lord’s commands. With this girl who mocks the Holy Scriptures openly and flaunts her body like a harlot.

Music erupts out of nowhere, startling me.

“Excuse me,” Beth says, standing up and sliding her noisy phone out of her pocket. She wanders into the living room to answer it, leaving me alone at the table with Holly.

She watches me as I take another bite. “You don’t really buy into all that cult crap, do you?”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘cult crap,’ but I take my faith very seriously.”

She smirks. “Right. We’ll see how that goes once school starts.”

Shaking my head, I start to tell her that I won’t be attending school. But the truth hits me hard.

If Mother doesn’t come for me soon, I will have to attend school with the rest of the sinners.

We eat the rest of our meal in silence. I glance up every so often to see Holly tapping on her phone that she’s laid on the table. Every time it buzzes against the cloth covered wood, she looks down at the screen and snickers before tapping again.

“Do they not believe in hairbrushes in your cult?” Holly asks, watching me wash our plates in the sink after we finish eating. Beth is still on the phone in the other room.

“We believe in hairbrushes,” I say. Who doesn’t believe in hairbrushes?

She nods. “So you just have a personal problem with them, then?”

I frown at the dishwater. “No. I have-
had
a hairbrush.” I glance up and catch her smirking at my hair.

“You have to let me fix your rat’s nest,” she says.

“There’s nothing to fix.” I turn on the faucet to rinse the dishes.

She leans against the counter. “Have you seen it? It’s like, frizzy and matted. Have you
ever
brushed it?”

“It’s my burden to bear. Not yours.” I shut off the water and start searching the kitchen drawers for a dishtowel to dry the plates.

“Still. It’s pretty fucking horrible.” Holly reaches into a drawer near the sink and pulls out a clean towel, holding it out to me.

I cautiously take the towel from her. “I don’t understand why my hair matters to you.”

She sighs heavily. “Be
cause
!”

“Because why?” I run the towel over one of the plates.

“If you’re going to go to school with me, and people will
know
we’re related, you can’t look like that.” She takes the dry plate from my hands and turns to a cabinet next to the refrigerator, putting it away.

After the second plate is dried and put away, Holly grabs my arm. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go upstairs.” She drags me through the house. I’d probably resist more if I weren’t so tired after that big meal. All I really want is to do is lie down and sleep for a few days.

We reach the stairs and I hear Beth in another room at the foot of the stairs. The door is partially open and I stop, pulling my arm free of Holly’s grasp to listen.

“Look,” Beth says. “You aren’t supposed to call here, Leah. Now, I understand you’re upset-”

“Hey!” Holly shouts at me from the top of the stairs, making me jump. “You coming or not?”

I open my mouth to respond as the door to the room starts to open. Rushing forward, I scramble up the stairs, clumsily. My legs feel like lead by the time I reach the top.

“What’s going on out here?” Beth calls up the stairs.

“Nuh-thing!” Holly sing-songs, grabbing my arm.

She pulls me past the bathroom Beth mentioned. It passes in a blur, but everything in it is turquoise; the floor, the walls, even the toilet. The shower curtain, however, is the brightest shade of pink I’ve ever seen in my life.

Holly’s room is at the end of the hallway. Her door is painted dark blue, like the sky just after sunset when all the pinks and oranges are gone. As soon she pushes open the door, my eyes widen in awe.

Each wall is a different color; yellow, orange, blue, and pink. Her bed has tall white posts that stretch toward the ceiling with a white bedspread and pillows in varying shades of pink, purple, and yellow, shaped like hibiscus flowers.

“What are those?” I ask pointing at the wooden boards mounted on the wall over her dresser.

“Surf boards,” she says, hopping up onto her bed. “For surfing.”

“Oh.” I have no idea what surfing is.

She leans back, propping herself up on her elbows, and looks me over. I’m careful to keep eye contact and not stare at her bare legs.

“I gotta ask,” she says, finally. “Are they like, Kool-Aid drinking weirdoes or the gun-stashing kind?”

Frowning, I clasp my hands behind my back. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Your cult,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t allow guns in Shiloh. And I don’t know what cool aide is.”

She squints at me. “So, more like Amish weirdoes, then. But without the bomb-ass furniture and stuff. Did y’all have electricity out there?”

My forehead wrinkles. “Of course.” Who
doesn’t
have electricity?

“How’s the breeding work? Like, sisters marrying their dads and shit? Or dudes having eight wives?” She tilts her head to the side, smirking slightly and I realize that she’s being unkind with her questions.

I lift my chin. “A man is allowed to take one wife and she must be from another family.”

“What if someone’s gay? Y’all allow that?”

Scowling, I open my mouth to ask what “gay” is, but she sits up, sliding off the bed. “No, the real question is what did they beat you for? That shit was all over the news.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously.

The question cuts like a knife. “Why are you being cruel? I haven’t done anything to you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, shrugging. “I’m not being cruel. I’m curious.”

For a moment, we stare at each other. I don’t know how to handle her. I’ve never met a girl who spoke so much with no regard for what she says. She just blurts terrible things and feels no remorse.

“Please,” she says after a long silence, “let me fix your hair.”

I relent, tired of arguing with her, and perch on the edge of her bed.

She’s surprisingly gentle as she works out the knots and tangles, unlike Mother who has no patience for my hair. After that, she tells me she’s going to straighten it. She runs her mouth the whole time as she runs her “flat iron” over my hair, mostly talking about things that mean nothing to me, using words I don’t understand, discussing people I’ve never met.

When she’s done, she hands me a mirror. My hair is smooth, like hers, and so straight it looks unnatural. I hope it’s not permanent.

“Let me trim it,” she says, getting up and pulling scissors out of a drawer in her desk.

My eyes widen. “What? No!”

“Just the ends. They’re all split and gross.” She steps toward me and I stand quickly.

“No. A woman of the Lord-”

“Blah blah blah,” she says, cutting me off. “It’ll grow back. Just an inch. I’m not about to shave your head or nothing.”

I shake my head and back toward the door. “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll be going now.” With that, I slip into the hallway and hurry to my room.

I wake to the smell of something that makes my mouth water, but I can’t place it. I’m disoriented as I slide off the bed. The room is dark, making it difficult to find my way as I fumble around, knocking into the dresser as I go. I worry I’ll wake Mother until I remember that she’s not here. I’m still alone in this place.

Opening the door a crack, I peek out into the brightly lit hallway. No one is there, but I hear voices coming from Holly’s room, along with a rhythmic thumping sound.

Tip-toeing down the hall, I wait outside her door, listening.

Holly’s voice is easily recognizable over the thumping. “…gone, but now she’s here.”

“That sucks! You said they were like, Amish or something, right? Maybe tell her it’s normal. Like say your mom lets you. She won’t know.” The other voice is female, but deeper than Holly’s.

“No, Mom cancelled the trip entirely. There’s no way now.”

“Alaina?” Beth’s voice makes me jump and I turn.

“I wasn’t listening,” I say, quickly. “I was going to knock but didn’t want to interrupt.” I feel terrible for lying and immediately blurt, “That’s a lie! I wasn’t going to knock!”

Beth smiles. “It’s okay. Why don’t you come downstairs? I was just getting ready to call the girls down for dinner.”

Swallowing hard, I nod. “Okay.” I glance up at her. “Did you…Have you heard from my mother?”

Beth’s face changes into a look I can’t decipher. “She called, yes. She’s going to call you as soon as the court allows her to, okay?” She smiles.

“The court?”

“Yes, she has some things she has to do first and then she’ll be allowed to call you,” Beth reassures me. “Head downstairs and we’ll have dinner.”

Skirting past her, I head for the stairs.