“Seriously,” I said, “what kind of Christian does that make me?”

  “A human one.”

  “But you said that we're supposed to love everyone. And that everyone is our neighbor. But I didn't feel any love toward Brooke and Amanda. I like Marissa more than them, and she's not even a Christian.”

  Caitlin slowly nodded. “I have a hard time loving some Christians too.”

  “You do?” Now this caught me totally off guard. “But you come across as the most loving person I know. You're like the perfect Christian.”

  She laughed. “Then you don't know me well enough.”

  “But I've seen you at youth group. You are sweet and kind to everyone—even kids who are totally obnoxious.”

  “Then it's God in me.”

  “But how?”

  Caitlin flipped to another part of her Bible. “Second Corinthians 12:9 is one of my favorite promises. You want to hear it?”

  “Sure.” I wrote this reference in my notebook too.

  “Okay, this is like Jesus speaking to us. ‘“My kindness is all you need. My power is strongest when you are weak.” So if Christ keeps giving me his power, I will gladly brag about how weak I am.’” She looked up at me. “That's how God works. When we come to Him with our inability to do something—like being kind or loving when we don't feel like it—He can help us do it with His power.”

  “But what if I really don't want to be loving? Okay, I'm trying to be honest here, and it's not going to sound very nice. But what if I really didn't give a flying fig about Brooke and Amanda? What if I just wanted them to go away and leave me alone?”

  “Well, that's always our choice, Maya. God won't force us to do anything. He wants us to come to Him for help. But He's not going to shove it down our throats.” She closed her Bible. “But you know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you didn't like that about yourself. I think that's why we're talking about it now.”

  I considered this. “I suppose that's true. I mean, I want to be a good Christian. I want to care about people. And I suppose I want to love everyone. At least a part of me does. Another part of me gets fed up.”

  “That's understandable. If it's any consolation, Jesus got fed up too.”

  “Huh?”

  “Jesus stood up against a lot of the religious leaders of His day. He called them hypocrites and snakes.”

  “Really?” Now this surprised me. Not that I claim to know a lot about Jesus or Bible history. But I did not know this.

  “Absolutely. Jesus had zero tolerance for the leaders who used religion to beat people up. He knew that kind of religion only separated people from God.”

  “So what about religious people who do that now? People who call themselves Christians? How does Jesus feel about that?”

  “It must make Him truly sad.”

  Then instead of focusing on Brooke and Amanda, I focused on myself. “So if I don't allow Jesus to love others through me,”—I paused to really consider my words—“then I probably make Him sad too.”

  Caitlin smiled. “Yes, but if you can admit to it, like you just did, there's still hope.”

  “I guess I really do want Jesus to help me love everyone.”

  “And maybe Jesus is going to use you to help girls like…well, like Brooke and Amanda.”

  I couldn't help but wince at this. “Yeah, maybe…”

  “And maybe Marissa too.”

  Okay, that was a little more encouraging.

  “I'm worried about her.” So I told Caitlin about Marissa going to that stupid drinking party last night.

  Caitlin nodded sadly. “Those lake parties have been going on for years. I could tell you lots of stories about kids who got hurt up there.”

  “I almost wanted to go with her. Just to help her stay out of trouble.” I frowned. “Do you think that would've been wrong? I mean, since I'm a Christian and it was a drinking party?”

  “My first reaction is to say yes. That's because I wouldn't want to see you in a bad situation. But there are some questions without real black-and-white answers. That's why we need to keep going to God on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Sometimes He might show you that it's right to do a certain thing. Yet another time He might show you just the opposite. If we don't stay tuned in to Him, we could become like those stodgy old religious people who relied on their made-up rules rather than God's leading.”

  That reminded me of Brooke and Amanda, but I didn't say so. I'd probably dissed those two enough for one day. Okay, more than enough.

  Of course we had run out of time by then. I was partly disappointed since I had more questions but partly relieved because that was a lot to take in. Fortunately, I had taken notes and had written down those Bible references. I thanked Caitlin for meeting with me. “I know I've got a lot to learn. I'm glad you're patient.”

  She just laughed. “Hey, I love meeting with girls like you, Maya. You've got a whole lot more going on than you realize.”

  “How's that?”

  “You seem genuinely hungry for God.” She nodded. “Nothing beats that.”

  Of course, her “hungry” comment made me realize it was almost noon and I really was hungry, which reminded me of my third question on the list, one that would have to wait until next week—vegan versus vegetarian versus meat eater. Which is right? Or does it even matter? Or maybe, like Dominic had recommended, I just need to approach God directly on this one.

  So as I left the Paradiso, I shot up a quick “Show me the way” kind of prayer. And it seemed God led me. Or maybe it was my stomach doing the leading. I'm not sure. But as I walked down the street, I smelled something delicious coming from the little pizzeria a few doors down, so I went inside.

  That's when I realized I was actually craving cheese. Go figure! So I ordered a green tea and an enormous slice of cheese pizza and snarfed down the whole thing. I think that settled it. Bye-bye, vegan. Hello, vegetarian. As far as meat goes…I don't think so.

  And here's the honest-to-goodness truth: I don't feel the least bit guilty about making this change. I still have a real sense of peace. I think that might be God's way of saying I'm on track.

  Maya's Green Tip for the Day

  Where do old sneakers go to die? Unfortunately, most of them end up in landfills, where they might take hundreds of years to decompose. But there's another way out. Nike has a program called Reuse-A-Shoe that recycles old athletic shoes (even if they're not Nikes). Most Nike stores have collection barrels for old tennis shoes, or you can collect them yourself and send them to the address below. But here's what's very cool. The recyclable parts of the shoes (rubber, foam, and fabric) are chopped up into a material called Nike Grind that's used for kids' playground surfacing. And that's way better than piling them up in landfills.

  Nike Recycling Center

  c/o Reuse-A-Shoe

  26755 SW 95th Ave.

  Wilsonville, OR 97070

  June 14, p.m.

  This afternoon I decided to get a summer job, and I plan to begin picking up applications on Monday. Not so much because I need the money. My dad's concert tour continues to be successful, and as a result he has been generous. He sends my uncle “more than enough” to cover my living expenses while I stay here. Plus, he sends me an additional thousand bucks a month. Okay, I think he's trying to make up for something—maybe a lot of somethings—but, hey, that's fine with me. It's not like I plan to send the money back.

  And with my mom safely tucked away in prison (doing her time for various convictions on illegal drug charges), I've managed to accrue a nice little pile of savings. Oh, it doesn't equal what dear sweet Mom stole from me last summer. Shannon emptied out the account where I'd stockpiled my emancipation money—the funds I had planned to use to get free of her. But at least I've made a start.

  Not that I'm obsessing over my emancipation plan so much these days. I mean, more than anything, I'd just like to experience a “normal” life. If that's even possible. I'd like to be a normal teenage girl, with normal friends, doing normal things. After what I've lived through the past several years, BORING sounds perfectly delightful to me.

  Of course, boring is probably one of those subjective things, sort of in the eyes of the beholder. For instance, I like to go out to where Aunt Patricia (that's Kim's mom, who died more than a year ago) had her garden. I've been trying to get everything back to how nice it must've been when she was alive and healthy. Because I love gardens, and I can be perfectly content out there for hours—just pulling weeds, working in compost, staking tomato plants, or watching a bumblebee fly. Nat (who lives next door) thinks I'm insane. But to be fair, I think she's insane too.

  Anyway, I haven't completely given up on being emancipated. Although I try not to think about it, since it usually stirs up stressful memories about how dysfunctional life used to be. I so don't want to go back to that. Just the thought of being stuck with Shannon again is horrifying. I'd rather be locked up in prison. At least you'd know what to expect there.

  And Shannon plans to appeal her sentencing. At first I thought no way would they let her out. But when I hear something on the news, like how a rapist was released, I get frightened. Not because I'm scared of the rapist. I'm afraid that my mom might be let out. What if she won her appeal? Shannon clean and sober can be very persuasive. And what if she went to court and demanded that I be returned to live with her? In my absence she might convince a judge that daughters are supposed to be with their mothers. Seriously, stranger things have happened—even in my life. I think that perhaps the best thing would be to free myself of Shannon before she gets another chance to turn my world upside down. I mean, I'm still only sixteen. Sixteen going on thirty.

  So I've decided to find a job, get my driver's license, and eventually buy a car. In other words, I'll get my ducks in a row and set myself up to be a free woman. Because it's occurred to me that Kim is going away to college in a few months. And my uncle, although a truly sweet man, might want some independence. I mean, he's been through a lot, dealing with his wife's illness, then losing her, raising his own teenage daughter, then taking in his crazy sister-in-law's teenage daughter. He might want a life of his own by next fall. Not that I get in his way or make myself a nuisance. At least I try not to. But who knows? He might want to sell this house and buy a sailboat and see the world. Or maybe he'd like to buy a condo in Florida. In fact, his mother lives down there. And a brother too, I think Kim said.

  Anyway, I've decided to do all I can to be independent. I already have my GED, and according to my PSAT scores, I shouldn't have any difficulty getting into college. And here is where I pause and let out a long, loud, tired sigh. The truth is, I'm not sure I'm ready for all that just yet. I still long to be a normal teenage girl. But I need to be strong. I need to be ready to stand on my own two feet. So I will bite the bullet and just do this. And to that end, I asked Uncle Allen to take me to the DMV (when convenient) so I can take my driver's test. He suggested Monday afternoon. I can't wait.

  Okay, enough about me. Oh yeah, this is my diary, and I'm supposed to write about myself. But I have something else to write about—something I'm trying not to obsess over, but it is bugging me. Earlier today I tried to set up a time to take the mural paint crew out for pizza. This sounds easier than it was.

  I called Marissa first, but she was too sleepy to talk. “Whatever,” she muttered. “Just let me know.” Then she hung up. But at least she'd made it home safely after that stupid drinking party. She apparently didn't end up spending the night in the drunk tank or juvenile detention or whatever they do with minors who break the rules. That was something. Next I called Dominic, and he reminded me that it was youth group night. So we agreed to do pizza before that. He suggested we try a new place not far from the church. “It's called Vittorio's,” he told me. “But I'm not sure they'll have anything vegan.” I assured him that was okay. Then he offered me a ride. And I accepted.

  Next I called Brooke. Rather, I called her home since I didn't have her cell phone number. Not that I'd asked. Of course, she hadn't offered it either. But I found what I assumed was her number in the book, then braced myself as the phone rang. A woman answered—I assumed her mom. But when I asked for Brooke, I was informed that she was unable to come to the phone and that she'd been injured in an accident.

  “Oh, I'm sorry. Is she okay?” As I said this, I suddenly felt guilty for all the bad feelings I've had toward Brooke.

  “We're not sure yet.”

  “Well, tell her I'll be, uh, praying for her.” It felt slightly strange to say that. Being a Christian is still kind of new to me, but I've heard others say that. And I did intend to pray for her.

  “Thank you. We appreciate that. May I tell her who called?”

  So I gave her my name, and suddenly the woman's voice got very crisp and chilly, like maybe Brooke had told her something bad about me, which wouldn't be surprising. Before I could find out more about Brooke, the woman thanked me for calling and hung up.

  As it turned out, neither Brooke nor Amanda came to our little pizza celebration. But both Jake and Spencer, although they had worked less than two days, were happy to come. Marissa arrived about fifteen minutes late.

  “It's about time,” said Eddie. “We've been waiting for you to get here so we could order.”

  Marissa grinned down at our group, already seated in the large round booth in the corner. “Maya and four guys… Interesting four-to-one ratio.”

  “Two to one now that you're here,” I pointed out.

  “Does that mean we're being snubbed by the little preacher girls?”

  “Brooke's been in some kind of an accident.” I handed her the menu.

  “Did a house fall on her?” Marissa chuckled as she looked over the pizza choices.

  “Huh?” Jake looked confused.

  “You know,” Marissa said, “like the witch in Oz.”

  Some of the guys laughed at Marissa's joke, but I was relieved to see that Dominic wasn't one of them. “Well, I hope she's okay. That girl seems a little accident prone,” he said.

  Marissa tossed the menu back at me. “I pretty much like anything on pizza. Other than that kind with pineapple and ham. Yuck. That's disgusting.”

  Marissa followed me up to the counter, waiting as I placed an order for two giant pizzas and a variety of toppings. “Was it a car wreck?” Marissa asked with mild interest.

  I turned and looked at her. “What?”

  “Brooke. Was she in a car wreck?”

  “I don't know. Her mom didn't say. She actually didn't seem to like me much.”

  “And that surprises you?”

  “Well…I don't really know her.”

  “Think about it, Maya. Like my grandma says, the apple never falls far from the tree.”

  I kind of laughed. “My grandma used to say the same thing.”

  She nudged me and smirked. “See, we are a lot alike, you and me.”

  I waited for her to order her soda. “You know, you're the one I was worried might get into a car accident last night.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Me? No way. I'm very careful in my car.”

  I decided not to push it. After all, we were here to celebrate.

  “So did you guys see the photo in today's paper?” I asked them.

  “My dad showed it to me,” Marissa said. “That probably helped me avoid consequences for getting home past curfew last night.” She laughed. “He was actually rather proud of his messed-up daughter for a change.”

  “We drove by on our way here,” Jake said, “to have a look at the mural. It turned out surprisingly cool.”

  “Meaning you thought it wouldn't?” I asked defensively.

  “It was hard to tell.”

  “Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “When we left, it looked like a paint truck had exploded.”

  “Because it wasn't finished.”

  “Well, here's to a completed project.” Marissa held her soda glass up in a toast. “And here's to Maya's vision for a really cool rainbow.”

  “Thanks.” I was surprised by this compliment. Still, it was nice.

  We ate and joked, and finally it was time to split for youth group. Dominic and I invited everyone to come with us, but Marissa quickly declined, and Eddie opted to catch a ride with her instead of being stuck going to youth group. I could tell Dominic was disappointed. And Jake, who sometimes goes to youth group, had been talked into seeing a movie with Spencer instead. So it was just Dominic and me heading over to the church.

  We were a few minutes late, and youth group was smaller than usual. But Josh and Caitlin, as usual, were there in front. It's always fun to see the two of them together. They're such an attractive couple. I've heard Kim compare them to a young version of Matt Damon and Gwyneth Paltrow (not that those two celebs are a couple, but the Millers are definitely a striking pair). Anyway, Josh had just started the worship time, but when he saw Dominic, he enticed him to come up and play guitar since the regular dude wasn't there. I didn't even know that Dominic played. But to my surprise, he agreed to help out. And when he did, he was pretty good.

  And Josh's message was pretty good too. In fact, I wondered if Caitlin had told him about our conversation this morning, because it seemed like he was hitting pretty hard on religious people who were hypocritical. But maybe it was a coincidence. Unfortunately, neither Brooke nor Amanda was there to hear it. Maybe someone taped it and they could get a copy later. Yeah, right.

  During refreshment time Caitlin came over with a concerned expression. “I'm sure you must've heard the news by now.”

  “What news?”

  “About Brooke.”

  I nodded. “Oh yeah…I heard she was in an accident. Was it a car wreck or some—”

  “I thought you knew.” Caitlin looked confused. “Didn't you tell me she fell off the scaffolding and—”

  “But that was yesterday. And she was perfectly fine. She didn't even want to—”

  “Apparently she wasn't perfectly fine.”

  “Really?”

  “According to her dad, she has a spinal injury.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “Seriously? Oh no—that's terrible.” Okay, part of me was shocked and concerned, but another part didn't get it. How does someone get up and walk around with a spinal injury? And she was definitely walking around.