I don’t remember what sparked the argument. But we stood outside the cloakroom inside the second-floor classroom in the old brick school that’s long since crumbled. The classroom where the fire escape tunnel slide exited. The tunnel we loved to play in after school while we waited for the two buses to return for their second loads.
“Well, I have a different Bible,” I declared.
My friend laughed at me. “There’s only one Bible.”
She might as well have ended it with, “You dummy.”
I don’t remember if she did, but her tone implied the same thing.
And she would have been right. I was a dummy when it came to things like God and the Bible.
But I really, really wanted to be a church girl . . .
(continued over at Michelle’s as part of her I am a Spiritual Misfit series)
In the stillness,