Page 103 of Earth Girls are Easy… To Dominate
I’m about to find out…
CHAPTER SIX
“Did Prophet Green’s sermon inspire anything in you, Jimmy?” Mrs. Cloutier says to her son over brunch. I sink behind my stack of pancakes in hopes that she doesn’t ask me next.
His sermon was about the evils of consumerism and mall culture. He compared shoppers to the Pac-Man creatures in the arcade games, with the game’s ghosts representing the temptations that will steal your soul. He started with the Rated-R movies at the theater and went down the hall of stores, bashing every single one. Nothing was off-limits. Even KB Toys was deemed immoral due to scantily clad Barbie dolls. I thought International Swimmer Barbie should be in a red, white, and blue bathing suit, but what do I know?
The whole sermon made me squirm in my seat between Jimmy and my parents. The more nods in the crowd, the more I wanted to run away. To me, the mall represents freedom, expression, and my dreams of the future. Teens have a place to socialize, experiment with their look, and learn about food and technology. I’ve learned more about people working in the food court than I ever did at school. The place I work is nothing like the place described in today’s sermon. Yes, there is a ton of advertising…but how else would the mall stay open? Whetherit’s air conditioning for the homeless on a summer day or a safe place for dating, the mall provides the whole community with a service.
“That I shouldn’t waste my money on the arcade?” Jimmy squeaks.
“But you love those games!” I blurt out.
Mrs. Courtier’s fork hits her plate with a clatter. For someone who doesn’t believe in fashion, she’s meticulously put together. Only AquaNet would keep her hair so tall after such an outburst. Her floral dress is from the mall, too. I saw it in one of the shop windows two weeks ago. I guess she could phone-order it from a catalog, but then she wouldn’t have it for months. Her fashion would be delayed.
My father clears his throat and glares down at me before I can say more.
I silently plead with Jimmy to stand up to his mother…if not for me, then for his dream to create arcade games. His idea of lizards catching different colored bugs with super-long tongues will be a hit game someday. I believe in him.
“Jenny, hush,” hisses my father. “Be sweet.”
“I do—did love those games,” Jimmy says, amending his sentence after he catches his mother’s scowl. “But perhaps it would be better to use my talents for more Godly work since they come from God in the first place.”
Bastard can’t even look me in the eye as he lies. How could anyone think this worm is the man for me? Love won’t grow between two souls as mismatched as ours. I was so stupid to believe I could get lost in their brown depths. There’s no depth to this man! If there was, he’d have a backbone! He swishes his eggs around as if they’ve unscrambled and he needs to fix them. I bet there’s smoke coming out of my ears.
Jimmy will graduate with a computer science degree next year. He doodles characters all over his notebooks. The plan isfor us to move to New York, where he can take classes in art—maybe get a master’s degree in graphics—while I pound the pavement in my shoulder pads…until I get pregnant. Then I will be chained to the house like a parolee, and he’ll make the arcade games he loves while I keep the homefires burning. At least, thatwasthe plan.
“Jenny, pull your neckline straight, so it covers your bra strap,” my mother whispers in my ear. “You look like a tramp on the prowl for customers.”
“What else, Jimmy?” His mother asks, waving her fork at us.
He stops swishing to look at his mother. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. Why doesn’t he fight for his dream? He must not have wanted to be a videogame designer as much as he told me he did…or is too cowardly to stand up to her. What does the woman want? She already crushed his dream and ruined our future. What else can she take from him?
“That I shouldn’t spend my free time in the mall?” His voice cracks on the word free. Has he ever been free? Will I be free if I marry him? While I haven’t enjoyed the freedom of Lisa or my friends at school, my parents have always kept me on a relatively loose leash.
“Exactly,” she says, nodding in triumph. She takes a sip of her orange juice while letting Jimmy digest what he has just sentenced himself to. “I’m happy I won’t have to convince you to quit that RadioShack job. Prophet Green suggested that you create a program to organize the parish members’ contacts into a workable…thingy. Doesn’t that sound like a thrilling challenge?”
“A database? He wants their information entered into a searchable database?”
“See? I told him you were clever enough to help him. You would be doing God’s work?—”
“Entering data is what I’m learning in my typing classes. Jimmy’s talents—” My mother stomps on my foot under thetable. I know it’s bad form to upstage my betrothed’s talents by insisting I have them too, but the point has to be made that this project is beneath him.
“Then you can step in as soon as Jimmy makes the Base of Data,” Mrs. Courtier finishes my sentence with a smirk. “No need for you to work at the mall either. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Brown agree that having you kids working for the church is safer than in that evil mall.”
“What will we do when the data is entered? It’s not a job—that’s a summer project. I need a steady income to live,” I say, pressing my palms against the white tablecloth so I don’t sock her in the mouth.
“You won’t when you move in with Charlie and me—will they, Charlie?” She pauses half a breath for her husband to answer her, but he’s too busy shoveling pancakes in his mouth. He doesn’t look too sorry to have his mouth full when she turns her overbearing glare on him.
“I won’t give up my independence,” I shout.
“Yourwhat? You’re a woman,” she yells.
“Now, Judy—” At least my mother comes to my rescue. She may agree with Mrs. Courtier, but she won’t allow her to berate me in public.
“You’ve indulged her too much, Mary Ann. I’ve held my tongue, but you heard the prophet this morning. She’s been poisoned with consumerism and needs a spiritual detox. Women needing financial independence? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. That’s what husbands are for…”
“Jenny, come on,” Jimmy whispers. “There’s no use arguing. She’s just reminding us what’s right.”
