A Parthan Summer - Julie Steimle (large ebook reader TXT) 📗

From there, they silently crept up the hill, peeking over the crest of the grass where they watched the rest of the camp salute the flag and sing the national anthem. As soon as the service finished and the campers quickly filed into the lodge, they decided to take their chance to join the others for breakfast. Suppressing giggles, Joy, Michelle, Jennifer, and Stacey, with Zormna, hurried over the top of the hill and snuck through the doors of the lodge.

“And where have you girls been?”

They turned around. Their cabin counselor, Miss Betiford, frowned down on them with folded arms. The rest of their team was in line, Amanda shaking her head at the lot of them.

Excuses tumbled out of the girls’ mouths, but none came to an agreement. The counselor folded her arms tighter across her chest, her frown deepening.

“It is terribly unpatriotic to skip the flag raising,” the woman said.

“I’m not American,” Zormna said with a smirk then hopped into the line.

The four girls stared after her. Joy suddenly burst into giggles, soon followed by Jennifer. Stacey and Michelle covered their mouths despite their own surprise at how flippant Zormna had said it.

Miss Betiford still frowned, but with a wave she ushered them through the line.

Another camp week had begun.

The last days of the week had finished silently. After the first two days full of events, things had fallen into a regular routine. The kids pulled pranks at night between cabins, mostly among the girls (though a few Billsburg boys started doing pranks), and in the day only a minor cut or bruise marred the occasional event. On the whole, things ran smoothly since the day Jeff had been waylaid on the hike. Perhaps even because of it. No one wanted to start trouble with Mr. Hardt watching so sharply.

It was Sunday. And as such, compulsory sports activities had been suspended for a more leisurely approach. Those that wished to continue practice, could. Those that wished to have games, could. Those that wished to do crafts, or go hiking or swimming, could. But a worship service had been planned at ten that morning for those who were professed Christian.

Juggling the religious with the secular for a school-related camp was a problem in that district, which they remedied with the easy plan called the ‘Free Weekend’—that is, everyone could choose one day to set their own schedule. They had five students at camp that were Jewish, two who were Muslim, and three that were atheist and two agnostics—that is, those who boldly declared such. There were plenty undeclared as they didn’t want to get into the argument over separation of church and state. Their Seventh Day Adventist and Jewish team members could get let out of their Saturday activities, according to their agreement signed by their parents—which meant Jonathan Baker from Pennington wrestling didn’t have to go to wrestling on Saturday if he didn’t want to. Originally, the director was not going to allow for deviation from the planned schedule—but one of the Jewish kids fathers was a lawyer, and he made sure his child’s rights were secure so his kid would not neglect Sabbath worship. So, of course, Mr. Hardt had to make arrangements for everyone.

So, when breakfast had finished and everyone separated to their cabins with the announcement that Sunday services were going to be held in the lodge, Zormna walked back up the hill wondering what she ought to do for the rest of the day. In Pennington, the McLenna family dragged Zormna to their nondenominational church every Sunday. And though she did not object to church, she did object to wearing a dress at those meetings but could never get out of it. But when she returned to her cabin with no other thought than to take a nap, she glanced at Joy Henderson. Joy had taken a particular effort in making herself look especially nice. Zormna moaned as she dropped onto her cot, leaning her elbow on her knee.

Joy glanced at Zormna then smiled, walking over to her. “Are you coming to the church meeting?”

Zormna shrugged.

“You can come as you’re dressed,” Joy said. “I just like dressing up. We always do when I go to church.”

Sighing, Zormna stood up again and shrugged once more. “I don’t have anything to do. I guess I’ll just take a look.”

Joy smiled again, though she looked nervous. “It doesn’t matter to me. The priest coming isn’t from my church anyway. He’s some pastor from some church in Billsburg. But it might be interesting.”

Zormna noticed that Joy was trying to be flippant. Yet, having already met the Henderson family, she knew religion was important to them. Joy read from a book of scripture every morning and prayed over her meals. She also prayed at night and in the morning when she thought no one was looking. But she got embarrassed when people stared, as some people made fun of her for thinking about God. And since the Hendersons were such kind people, Zormna felt obliged to listen to them.

She went with Joy all the way back to the lodge. They entered the hall through the back door. And though Joy went in further, Zormna lingered in the doorway, peeking in.

The lodge benches and chairs were set up in two sections separated by an aisle. At the front of the room, a podium was placed. They used that podium a few times before when Mr. Hardt spoke, but looking at it now made her uncomfortable. It was just like most religious halls she had seen in Pennington. Had they lit the fire at the end of the hall, she would have felt more comfortable, because at least that would have been familiar. But the fire was out, and all there was sitting at the front was a handful of men in different suits with strange, stiff collars.

Still lingering in the back, not sure if she should leave or stay, Zormna watched a few more campers come in and take their seats. To be honest, even back Home she had not really attended religious services. For some reason, she had always been kept on duty those days. While still trying to decide whether to stay or not, she noticed Jeff enter the hall. Though he was not dressed in a suit like Brian Henderson (who was in a white shirt with a tie perfectly tied around his neck and his hair nicely combed—so much that the other boys teased him about it), Jeff wore one of his nicer shirts, one with a button-down front and a collar. He had also bothered to comb his long front mop of dark hair to the side. He looked nice. Even his bruises looked better. Washed at least.

Jeff, Brian, and Mark filed in the row where Joy was beckoning to them. Amy Fields was with her, along with a couple other girls. Mark rolled his eyes at Joy, tugging at her done-up hair. Joy swatted his hands away. As Jeff settled in his seat, he looked around with masked curiosity at the pastors up front. His eyes then scanned the room, watching people come inside. When his eye caught on Zormna, he smirked to himself then jerked his head, indicating for her to join them.

She looked away.

Others filled the hall, including the camp counselors of whom a few dressed in a nicer sets of clothes. The director wore a wool suit and tie. He sat up front as always, though he looked bored.

Zormna stood uncomfortably against the back wall. Jeff peeked back again, noticing her slowly inch toward the door. Catching her eye, he mouthed for her to sit down.

She stopped.

Jeff mouthed those words again. “Sit down.”

Rocking on her feet, drawing in a breath, Zormna stepped forward then sat on the bench closest to the door.

He masked a chuckle then turned again to face forward.

And the meeting began.

A middle-aged pastor, wearing a dark suit and the traditional protestant white collar that had a bare white square under his neck, stepped up to the podium. It was much like in the McLennas’ nondenominational church. The man smiled with a somewhat crooked set of teeth as he opened a large dark covered book that said Holy Bible on the spine. He read a passage.

“John chapter seventeen, verse twenty-two: And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one:” The priest looked over the congregation with a strong eye, and then cleared his throat to speak. “We should be one. We should love one another. But do we?” Looking around the room accusingly, he said, “No.”

Yep. The same as that church. With the McLennas, she had grown used to tuning out the pastor when he talked. This man continued with his sermon, pounding out the sins of contention and pride, and Zormna felt herself sinking deeper into her seat wondering if there ever was a pastor that could share a pleasant message rather than one of doom and gloom.

“Jesus Christ was the perfect example of what a man should be. He was humble. He was patient. He was kind, and he did not return harm for harm.” 

Several ‘Amens’ came from students in the crowd, though Joy and Brian shared looks as if the outburst was weird. Jeff covered his mouth with his hand to maintain a serious expression.

Zormna glanced back to the door again, wondering if she could escape without being noticed. As she looked through the crowd, making sure no one would care, her eyes stopped on Jeff again.

He wasn’t saying ‘amen’. He wasn’t echoing the words of the preacher like a couple of boys that sat in the row in front of him. But Jeff was still listening—which was strange considering his heritage. He was half seer class—the caste that focused primarily on the Arrassian religion. The religion of his mother. The group of devout believers. Though Zormna believed his undercity upbringing might have diluted that devotion some, it didn’t seem likely with how he had quoted their prophecy at her. In fact, he seemed more devoted. What was he getting out of this meeting that she wasn’t?

“Jesus was hurt!” the priest cried out.

Agreeing yeses echoed from the crowd.

“He was beaten!” 

The crowd reacted.

“And yes, He died!” Pausing for the dramatic effect, the preacher then said, “But Our Savior did not retaliate. No, He did not! Even when He was hanging on the cross He begged God, saying, ‘Father forgive them.’ He begged His Father to forgive those that were killing Him. That is power. That is humility.”

Zormna stared ahead at the priest now. What had he just said? That guy these Christians worshipped begged God to forgive the people that were killing him? She drew in a breath, wondering what normal person could possibly be like that.

The priest continued on, his words now drawing her in.

“The Gospel of Matthew chapter five, verse thirty eight through forty eight: ‘Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to them the other also’.”  

It was strange doctrine. Yet she had heard it before. The Hendersons called it ‘turning the other cheek’. Her people called it the Higher Law. And it resonated within her.

“Ye have heard that it hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you…I say unto you,” the priest read, repeating for emphasis, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good unto them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”

The back door of the hall slammed shut as if the wind had blown it. Heads turned around and stared at the back of the room, but returned again to the front of the hall. Jeff stared at Zormna’s empty seat, though Joy nudged Brian who shrugged. Carefully, Jeff wiped