Sparks: The Epic, Completely True Blue, (Almost) Holy Quest of Debbie by S.J. Adams

Author:S.J. Adams [Adams, S.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2011-09-25T22:00:00+00:00

Twelve

I ducked into a bathroom to take a quick pee, since I couldn’t wait any longer, then walked down the hall until I found the back door. It was made of glass, so I could see Emma and Tim on the other side.

Emma gave me the thumbs-up.

“Hang on,” I mouthed. “I’ll let you in.”

I started looking around for the latch or whatever, but I couldn’t find anything to unlock the door. I shrugged. Emma shrugged back.

“Is there a switch on the edge of the door?” she shouted. “Sometimes there’s a switch.” I could barely hear her through the thick glass—no wonder whoever was in the place hadn’t heard us before.

“Go around to the front,” I mouthed, waving my arms around in case she couldn’t read my lips well enough. “I’ll try that one.”

She must have gotten the message, because she and Tim darted around the corner, out of sight.

I was on my own.

It was spooky in there—I totally understood what Emma and Tim meant about feeling freaked out when they turned out the lights in empty spaces. I could hear the sounds of at least one person moving around and making noise somewhere in the church. Either it was haunted or there were still people in there someplace. But I didn’t think I believed in ghosts.

I did sort of believe that dreams could mean something, though, and now I was living out the dreams I’d had about sneaking around someplace where I wasn’t welcome. I had those so often that I’d even asked my mom about them, and she looked them up in some dream dictionary that she had.

“Dreams about intruding are very common,” she said. “It usually means that you worry that someone knows a secret about you, or that you’re trying to force yourself on someone who may not want you. But you never know. Dreams mean different things to different people.”

At the time, I’d kept myself from thinking that maybe I was worried about forcing myself on Lisa, and decided that the dreams were just a natural extension of my constant worrying about people knowing what I was thinking. It made sense.

But I was sort of forcing myself on Lisa. I was hanging around with her, joining all the same clubs as her, pretending to like all the same things and be the same religion as her, all in the vague hope that someday she’d fall in love with me. If that wasn’t forcing myself on her, I didn’t know what was.

But it was all going to end tonight.

The lights were on in the hallway, and I could see that every other room nearby seemed to be Sunday school stuff, too. Some of the rooms were clearly for older kids—instead of cartoons of shepherds, the wall had posters of contemporary Christian bands, and those really graphic posters of Jesus on the cross with things like “body piercing can save your life” written in a spray paint font. There were about a million copies of that “Footprints” poster on the walls.

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