But she knew that going to church would make her mom happy, and for some weird reason, she sort of looked forward to it, too, given how unsettled she was feeling these days. She wouldn’t mind actually having someone to talk to, assuming this priest was cool, which her mom said he was, and not some strict, old guy. She doubted that he could relate to her, but maybe he could help shed some light on what was wrong with her. Or maybe he could at least make her feel more calm.
As they walked, Scarlet reflected on her day. It had been another lousy one. After first period, everything was anti-climactic: she didn’t see Sage again all day, even though she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She wondered if he hated her now, for leaving like that. Despite herself, she hoped that he liked her. She looked for him all day, but saw no sign of him. It was so weird—it was like he disappeared.
At least thinking about him had taken the edge off of Blake. With Sage in her thoughts, she had hardly thought of Blake again that day; the one or two times she had seen him, out of the corner of her eye, she was sure that he had seen her too, and had quickly turned away. He definitely hadn’t texted her all day. So it was obvious that he wasn’t into her anymore. Which was starting to feel okay with her, as long as she thought of Sage.
Despite her efforts, she hadn’t crossed paths with Maria again that day; she was sure that Maria was giving her the cold shoulder—and worse, she could have sworn that Jasmin and Becca were avoiding her, too. She wondered if Maria had told them what had happened and had cast Scarlet in a bad light. She hadn’t seen any of them at lunch, which was unusual. Scarlet was increasingly feeling as if she had no one left to turn to. Her friends, Blake, her parents—she was feeling that everyone was aligned against her.
The final bell of the day had been a welcome sound and she’d hurried back home and checked her cell again, but had still received no texts from Maria, or any of her other friends. That was a sure sign. Maria was a chronic texter, as were the others. Clearly something was up. Maria had probably told them all Scarlet tried to steal her boyfriend—which was ridiculous, because Sage wasn’t Maria’s boyfriend, and because he didn’t even like her. Not to mention that Maria didn’t even have the guts to ask him, and that Scarlet had actually looked out for her by swapping partners. But still, obviously, in Maria’s mind, that was what had happened.
Scarlet figured she should be the bigger person, and finally texted Maria after school, giving her her perspective of what had happened. But Maria didn’t reply. It was so typical. Maria could be the most loyal friend in the world—but she could also be the most spiteful and territorial.
Scarlet had finally had enough, and had put her phone away and powered it off. These days, it seemed to give her nothing but aggravation anyway. She’d waited eagerly for her mom to get home from work and now that it was almost sunset, she was actually looking forward to hearing what this priest had to say. Clearly, her life couldn’t get any worse.
The heavy door to the church creaked open, and as they walked inside, Scarlet felt transported to another world. It was quiet and dark in here, and as she took in the smooth stone floors, the old, worn pews, the stained-glass windows, it gave her a sense of peace. She was surprised at how at-home she felt—and even more surprised that she had never been here before.
Suddenly, the church bells rang out, striking six o’clock. After the traditional bells, there followed a song, ringing out in chimes. It was the most beautiful thing Scarlet had ever heard, and she felt grateful to her mom.
“Thanks for bringing me,” she said to her mom.
Her mom squeezed her hand as her face broke into a smile, and Scarlet felt guilty she had been so stubborn.
A side door opened at the far end of the church, and in came Father McMullen, wearing a welcoming smile.
“And you must be Scarlet,” he said in a cheery voice, as he strutted towards them. He extended his hand way out in front of him, before he even reached them. Scarlet shook his hand, and he shook hers back, encasing it with both of his hands heartily.
“I’ve heard so many lovely things about you. Thank you for coming.”
“Thanks for having me,” she said, not knowing how to reply.
As he held her hands in his, he stared into her eyes, and as she looked up into his light blue eyes, she couldn’t help but feel as if he were dissecting her. As if he sensed something that surprised him.
He quickly withdrew his two hands. As he did, his expression changed to one of hesitation—maybe even fear.
He cleared his throat.
“Please, come this way,” he said as he turned and led them down the aisle.
They followed him down the long aisle, passing the pews, and as they did, Scarlet noticed him looking side to side, his expression increasingly worried. She turned to see what he was looking at, and noticed the rows of tall, burning candles: as they passed, one at a time, each candle burned out.
By the time they reached the end of the aisle, all the candles along the walls had been extinguished—and as they approached the altar, the dozens of small votive candles all suddenly blew out, too.
The Father stopped cold in his tracks. He stood there, his back to them, as if afraid to turn around.
Scarlet stared at the candles, not understanding what was happening. Had it been a draft? She hadn’t felt one.
The Father slowly turned and looked at her. From his fearful expression, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she were to blame.
She saw small beads of sweat form on his forehead, as his eyes travel down to her throat.
“That’s a beautiful necklace,” he said.
Scarlet detected a shakiness in his voice that wasn’t there a moment before. Clearly, he was freaked out. He was freaked out by her, she realized. That scared her, and she started to tremble.
“May I ask where you got it?” he asked.
“I gave it to her,” her mom chimed in. “For her sixteenth birthday. Just a few days ago.”
He turned and looked at her.
“Where did you get it?” he asked, with intensity.
“It’s been in my family for generations,” she responded. “My grandmother gave it to me. And her grandmother gave it to her.”
“May I look at it?” he asked, turning to Scarlet.
Scarlet nodded, not knowing what to say.
He reached out and gently lifted the cross with two fingers, staring at it in the light. As he did, his eyes widened in fear.