“I know you’ll be discreet,” Aunt Brenda told Charlotte. “So I’m just going to tell you the whole sordid story. To help you understand. So you can be sensitive to Wavy’s situation.”

Only Aunt Brenda didn’t tell the whole sordid story. She never told anyone about the deposition, but especially not Charlotte. As much as Charlotte loved crying and hugging, she loved to talk about sex more. Or she loved to talk about how you weren’t supposed to have sex.

“God made your body a temple to honor him and he wants you to cherish that gift. He doesn’t want you to put drugs in it. He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself driving recklessly. And He doesn’t want you to share yourself with just anyone. The gift of your temple is for you to share with the special person God has chosen for you.” Charlotte always looked so happy when she talked like that. Ecstatic.

God also didn’t want you to “pollute yourself.” Touching yourself for pleasure wasn’t what God designed your temple for, according to Charlotte. Either God was stupid or Charlotte was confused, because my temple was clearly designed for that.

“When you get married, the purity of your temple will be a gift you give not only to your spouse but to God. The gift of honoring His commandments.” Charlotte wasn’t married and sometimes I caught her looking at Kellen’s ring on my finger.

I wondered, was Charlotte saving her loud-mouthed temple for someone?

The girl in front of me had a better question: “But what about people who aren’t virgins when they get married?”

“Our God is a merciful God,” Charlotte said. “If a person honestly regrets what they’ve done—”

“But what if it’s not their fault?”

“Yeah, like what if a girl gets raped?” Amy’s best friend Angela said. She sounded mad.

Charlotte’s mouth made a big O.

“That’s not the same thing,” said Marcus. He had a crush on Amy, but he might as well have been at home polluting his temple as sitting there mooning over her.

“Marcus is right, that’s not the same thing.” Charlotte’s voice went into its pre-cry quaver. “God understands that bad things can happen to good people.”

“But it still means you’re not a virgin,” said the girl in front of me.

“God can make everything right if we trust Him. If we pray, He can take cancer away. He can bring people back to life.”

“So God could make you a virgin again?”

People laughed at the girl for asking that, but Charlotte said, “Why is that so funny? God parted the Red Sea and Jesus resurrected Lazarus. He can do anything.”

When everybody broke for snacks, I stayed in my corner reading. Sometimes Amy and Angela sat with me, but Leslie was there that night, wanting to run away from college and sneak back into her safe high school life. The three of them were at the refreshment table, when Charlotte walked over to me.

“Can we talk, Wavy?” Without waiting for an answer Charlotte sat down and scooted her chair up as close as she could, so no one else would hear. Like I would want to have a secret with her. “I want you to know that I believe what I said with all my heart. What happened to you, God can heal you of that. Because He knows that in your heart, you’re still pure.”

Charlotte’s hand swooped toward my arm, but stopped short of touching me.

“Will you let me pray with you? Ask God to heal you? To take away what was done to you and make you whole?”

“I don’t want your god to make me a virgin,” I said.

12

AMY

1986–1987

Wavy said it loud enough that everyone in the youth group lounge heard her. Then she walked over to Leslie and held out her hand.

“Car keys?”

“Wavy, she’s just trying to help,” Leslie said.

Charlotte hurried up to us and gasped, “Will you ask Wavy to come into my office to talk, Leslie?”

Wavy snapped her fingers angrily at Leslie. I could see in Wavy’s eyes that she had maybe only ten seconds of calm left. Angela saw it, too, and said, “Jeez, Les, give her the keys.”

“They’re in my purse.”

“Oh, Wavy. Please, let me help you.” Charlotte was getting ready to cry.

Wavy turned on her heel, crossed to where Leslie’s purse hung over the back of her chair. In one economical movement, she emptied Leslie’s purse on the seat and picked up the keys. Five steps to the door and she was gone.

“She doesn’t want your help,” Angela said.

“God wants to heal her, if only she would open her heart,” Charlotte said.

“She’s fine.” Only as I said it did I realize it was true. Considering everything she’d been through, Wavy was doing pretty well.

“We better go,” Leslie said.

One of those rare occasions when Leslie and I agreed. She put her stuff back in her purse and we left. Behind us, Charlotte sniffled.

When we got to the car, Wavy was curled up in the backseat. I got in beside her while Angela rode up front with Leslie.

“What a witch,” Angela said. “She’s probably not even a virgin. Not that I can imagine anyone having sex with her.”

“It’s not true.” Wavy’s voice was flat.

“Charlotte’s right. I know you don’t like her, but she’s right. What happened to you doesn’t count,” Leslie said. I didn’t know if she wanted to reassure Wavy or reassert Charlotte’s ecclesiastical authority on renewable virginity.