Page 6 of The Pact

3.

A Boat

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Ausra

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A FEW WEEKS LATER

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“IF YOU’RE LIKE AN ARROW, you’re lending yourself to being used and manipulated by others. To be shot in any given direction without any saying about where you’re headed. If you’re like a bow, you’re just a means to an end. You’ll be used by others to achieve their own goals and then discarded when you’ve served your purpose. What you need to be is the hand that uses the bow and shoots the arrows, so you’ll be in control of your own destiny. How do I get to be the hand, Harold? You might ask. You need self-awareness and inner strength, you need to know yourself to make it impossible for others to force you in a direction that isn’t yours. Follow the five pillars of self-growth to reach enlightenment and be a champion to yourself and the whole community.”

My father looks imposing in his well tailored suit, on the podium speaking to his congregation. A real preacher.

The “chapel” he holds his Sunday services at is simple and has definitely been overgrown by the number of accolades in the past few years. Up until last year, Dad had to have two morning and two evening services to accommodate everyone in the immediate Shell Cove community. Since last year, after his Tube Channel really blew up, he began streaming them, so he’s back to one single service at eleven am. I’m relieved that’s the case because Mom and I, as his immediate family, were expected to be present at every single service.

Everyone rises to enunciate the five pillars of self-enlightenment: hope, mercy, honesty, charity and purity. “Hope is the foundation of everything,” Dad pontificates. “Mercy you need to show yourself first. Forgive yourself, so in turn you’ll be able to forgive others. Without honesty, true growth is impossible. Charity is because by giving to others you enrich your own soul. The first four pillars, will allow you to achieve purity. That’s the road to enlightenment. Brothers and sisters, don’t forget that you have a mission in this world. Bring the truth to many because communal growth is what fosters individual growth. This is why our council has decided to build a new, bigger church. So we’ll be able to better serve our community. We’ll be asking for donations from today and in the coming weeks ...”

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I look around hoping that no one heard its buzzing sound. Electronic devices are banned from functions aside from the cameras that stream the event. My mom is sitting by my side but she’s looking in front of her at my dad up at that pulpit with an adoring, rapt expression on her face. Dad is looking in front of him, trying to meet as many gazes as he can down the aisle in what he calls his main “sales technique.”

Nobody is paying attention to me, so I sneak out of the first row of seats and run to the bathroom where I can check my phone without being busted. I’m worried, thinking that it can only be McKayla, since anyone else who could have my number and text me is standing in the room I just left.

I quickly make my way to the bathroom, relieved that I’m alone as I lock the main door and take my phone out of my pocket.

Like I thought, my sister’s name flashes on the screen. Skye has one of her post-natal checkups tomorrow and McKayla is wondering if I wanted to go with them.

The appointment is shortly after school, so I could make it if I make sure that Mom will be attending the council meeting with Dad. I can say I have yearbook stuff and sneak out to see my sister and my niece. I have some more money to give her anyway, our English Lit teacher assigned a big essay and I sold quite a few really well thought out analyses of Pride and Prejudice.

A noise from behind me makes me turn abruptly, causing me to drop my phone into one of the sinks.

“I can’t believe this! Ausra Winthrop caught red handed breaking her father’s rules. Are you texting your boyfriend?” The voice belongs to Lynda Greggs, my father’s consultant’s daughter. I don’t answer her question as I stare at her reflection in the mirror. During the service Lynda was wearing a conservative dark green blouse and a black skirt that hit several inches below the knee. Her parents don’t require her to cover up as much as mine do with me but she definitely dresses modestly. A far cry from the skin tight black leather mini skirt and the red, low cut top she’s wearing now.

She must’ve been changing in the bathroom when I came in. “Where are you going?” I ask her as she swipes a dark red lipstick on her lips, admiring the result in the mirror.

I look at her with a pang of jealousy that I don’t quite know how to place or where it comes from. Lynda and I aren’t friends. She runs with a different crowd at school and I honestly don’t like her very much. She acts like everyone else is beneath her. Even when she’s come to my house with her parents, she’s never really been friendly. I know her father is my dad’s closet advisor and has made a fortune investing in the church. He’s been the driving force behind the tremendous popularity that Dad’s doctrine has been gaining recently. I don’t know if Mr. Greggs buys into my father’s newer, stricter rules, especially when it comes to women. I guess he doesn’t, not because of the way Lynda is dressed right now—it’s obvious that she came into the bathroom to change without her parents seeing her—but because of how she dresses at school. She has friends that don’t belong to the church and I know for a fact that she hangs out with them and has sleepovers and all the stuff that normal girls do. Not that I know of that stuff first hand but it’s what McKayla used to tell me her new friends did when she started rejecting Dad’s way of life.

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