Page 1 of False Idols

NEVAEH

FOUR YEARS AGO…

I’m fifteen years old and my name is Nevaeh.

It’s heaven spelled backwards, because my mother loves church. It’s her favorite thing in the world. I know she would pick it over me if someone asked her. She makes sure we are front and center every Sunday morning for the first service at our church—Crown of Thorns in Bloom, Kansas. The name makes me think of the thorns on the blackberry bush outside of my grandmother’s house. I always manage to stab myself on them when she sends me out to pick enough berries to satisfy her compulsive need to can and preserve on the hottest summer days. Pastor Mike said that’s why he picked the name when he founded the church fifteen years ago. To remind us of the price Christ paid for our sins, which I guess makes sense. Even though it makes me sad, there must be a reason Pastor Mike wants me to be sad when I think of Christ. My mom says that Pastor Mike is always right. My mom loves church and she loves Pastor Mike, because when we go to church, folks in town have to be nice to us. Even if we live in the trailer park outside of town and she has to clean their houses.

“When we’re at church, everyone's the same. That’s the gift of grace.”

My mom makes sure we don’t just go on Sundays, like the people she calls fair-weather Christians. We’re there for Wednesday Bible study, too. She even leads one of the women’s life group meetings on Tuesday. At the library, because our trailer isn’t nice enough. She insists I go to Youth Group on Saturday nights and I do, because she means well. I know that, even if the walls of Crown of Thorns are stifling. There is one thing that makes it all worth it.

Well, one person. And he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

Beau.

It’s the perfect name for him, because Beau means beautiful and that’s exactly what he is. His hair is dark as midnight, so black that it shines blue in the light. And while I’ve heard the other girls in the youth group talk about Beau’s body or how tall and strong he is, I love his eyes. They’re blue—the color indigo ringed with lashes so long and perfect I think they touch his cheeks when he closes his eyes. Beau comes from the Du Ponts and my mom cleans their house on Mondays and Thursdays during the week, plus every other Saturday. She made sure to only take certain days so she didn’t miss any of the church meetings. Seeing as the Du Ponts are part of the church leadership, they arranged it special for her. Beau Du Pont is four years older than me and when I tag along with my mom, I get to see him. It’s the only time outside of church that I get to see him. There’s school, but he’s a senior and I’m a freshman, so we don’t really cross paths unless I manage to stay late for his football practice. There’s always a group of girls on the bleachers just for Beau, so I don’t do that too often. Besides, seeing him at his house is special. Almost as special as when we’re in youth group together—that’s when Beau talks to me.

When we’re at Beau’s house, he doesn’t talk to me. But that’s because he doesn’t notice me. He’s busy when he’s at home. Studying, working out, watching after his younger cousins. Reading to his grandfather or driving his mom to errands. There’s always something for Beau to do when he’s at home. When we’re at youth group though, everything changes. That’s when there’s nothing for Beau to do but hang out with everyone. This is the only time I understand what my mom means about grace and everyone being equal. Because even though he’s four years older than me, Beau talks to me like we're the same age. When Beau talks to me, I can’t help the butterflies I get or the smile on my face—he makes me so happy. Beau makes everyone happy. But I like to pretend it’s only me when he sits down beside me before movie night and asks me what’s playing, or when he offers me a snack from the refreshment table.

I’m always too nervous to talk much to Beau because I have a crush on him, but it’s okay. I just need more time with him and he’ll see how much he means to me. Sometimes he’s the only nice part of my day, especially when I have to help my mom clean on Saturdays. I don’t like those days, but I owe my mom. She never misses a chance to bring it up, so I guess I do. I keep hoping she’ll stop saying it if I help her enough, so I never complain when she tells me to get her supplies ready for work on a Saturday morning. Today is one of those days, but I keep a smile on my face and work as fast as I can, because I know I’ll see Beau. It’s hard to keep smiling when I hear the scary news about the girl a town over that was found cut up in her bed.

“You better keep all the windows in the house shut and locked tonight, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m not kidding, Neveah. There’s a sicko cutting up girls in their beds, and I know you sleep with that window open. Swear it now.”

“I swear it, ma’am.”

My mom is jumpy as a cat as she talks about the girl they found, but I try not to listen. I don’t want to hear what the killer has done to her. She isn’t the only girl that’s been found the way she was, with a cross carved into her chest.

“Maybe it’s an X,” I tried to tell my mom, when she was sniffling over the thought of a cross being used that way.

“It’s not an X, you idiot! It’s a cross. He's a satanist. I know it! This is demonic!”

I try to ignore my mom. It isn’t the easiest thing to do when she gets hysterical like this, but it doesn’t help that everyone we meet in town is of the same mind. I make it through the day, but just barely, because I know I’ll get to see Beau. Except when I walk into the youth group room, Beau isn’t there. No one really mentions Beau not being there, so I can’t bring it up, not with the way they’re all going on about the murder. But I keep an eye on the door. Every time someone walks past, I think it's him, but it never is. My face must show how disappointed I am, because when my mom picks me up to go home she comments on my “ugly face.”

“No one is going to want to court you if you frown like that, Nevaeh.” She snaps her fingers at me. “Fix it, girl.”

I force myself to smile for her. “Yes, ma’am.” She won’t let me rest if I don't. Doesn’t matter if I don’t want anyone to court me or not. There is only Beau, and he isn’t around to see my face. The ride home passes like it normally does, with my mother going on about the new jobs she is hoping to get in town and what she plans to do with the money. Most of it is going to be saved to get us into a better house in the “nice part of town, where they won’t look down their noses at us.”

I don’t have to ask who ‘they’ are. It’s the same people she talks about from church as talking to us like equals. I know my mom doesn’t like them, so I keep quiet and nod while she goes on about what we’ll have for dinner. I smile the whole time, even though it makes my cheeks hurt. It’s after dinner, when my mom goes to watch her stories while I clean the kitchen and do the dishes, that my mind goes to Beau.

Where had he been? He never misses youth nights, but maybe he was upset about the murder? He’s there like clock work, so what's changed? It’s his senior year and I know he will be leaving soon and my chances at working up the nerve to talk to him are running out. He’ll go to the college in town. Even if he stayed in Bloom, it wouldn't be the same. I bet he’ll live in the dorms then and play football for the school. Beau is that good at football. There’s no way I’ll get to see him again, when we clean his house on Saturdays. The thought makes my chest hurt. I have to get out of the house. It’s a summer night and there’s no central air in the trailer we own, so it’s hot. The rotating fan by my mom’s chair really doesn’t do much but circulate the already warm air. I finish cleaning the kitchen and then go to my room. It’s off of the kitchen, so my mom doesn’t notice, not with the way she’s glued to her shows. I have to think and I can’t do it here, not in the warm trailer with the tv blaring in the next room. When I’m in my room, I go straight for my flashlight and grab my notebook and Bible before I climb out of my window.

The second the night air hits my skin, I let out a sigh of relief. It’s warm, but it’s still so much cooler than our trailer. I flick the switch of my flashlight, giving it a smack when the light flickers, but a second later it’s steady. I’m careful to keep the light away from the living room windows where I know my mom is sitting and set off on a walk through the trees to the trail that runs behind the trailer park and up the hill that overlooks town. The Mineral Belt Trail is a path that joggers and mountain bikers use. It’s not paved, so I always get my shoes dirty when I use it. It makes a big twelve mile loop around town. I shouldn’t be out here this late. Not with what’s been going on around town lately. My mom would pitch a fit if she knew, but I know she’ll be watching her shows for another two hours, so I’ve got time. My shoulders drop the longer I walk and the quiet sounds of the trees settle over me. I can hear the chirp of crickets and the rustle of birds settling in to roost for the night while a gentle breeze moves through the leaves. I pass by something rooting around in the leaves just out of the reach of my light. I don’t bother looking for what’s making the noise. It’s just an animal. Even if it wasn’t, I don’t want to find anyone else right now. It’s nice to be alone. Peaceful, even. I’ve walked this path so many times that my feet know exactly where to go and I can let my mind wander. I think about Beau, about school, about why my mom wants someone to court me. That’s dating, but in a nice way. The way Pastor Mike says is acceptable for young ladies and men to act before marriage.

Naturally, my thoughts go to Beau. Is there anyone he wants to court? Will he wait to finish college to do that? Would he ever look at someone like me and want that? Butterflies come to life in my belly at the thought, but when I try to picture the kind of girl Beau would want to marry, I can’t. I don’t want to think about that too much, anyway. There’s no way a girl like me would be the one for him. I live in a busted trailer with no air conditioning and help my mom clean his house on the weekends. I bite my lip and hold my Bible and journal tighter while I walk faster, as if I can outrun the thoughts.

The ground slopes under my feet. It’s steeper here and I know I’m almost to the top of the hill. I have to work to keep the same pace. After another minute, I turn off my light and continue on in the dark, so I don’t let anyone know that I’m coming up the path. At the top of Bloom Hill, there’s a clearing high schoolers and college kids park in to drink and listen to music, but I know they smoke weed up here, too. I can smell it when I climb up to my favorite spot to write at night. It’s a flat rock that’s tucked to the side of the clearing, just behind some trees so I can always see who’s parking at Bloom Hill. I recognize a lot of cars from church, and I make a game trying to see how many I can spot while I journal.

The most I’ve ever seen is seven.

Tonight there’s just one, but it’s the most important car I could ever think to see at the top of Bloom Hill.

It’s Beau’s car.

I’d always recognize the familiar profile of the jeep that I know has a Crown of Thorns Church sticker on its side window and a DARE bumper sticker on the back. If I got close enough, I’d be able to see the number twelve, for Beau’s jersey number, that the high school girls stenciled onto his car when school let out a month ago. I turn and squint at the jeep from where I’m sitting in the trees and I jump in surprise when a second later I see a girl hop out of the door. She’s pulling on the straps of her dress. It’s short and white and it glows in the moonlight as she gets her dress on and lights up a cigarette. The cherry red butt of it dances in the air as she flicks it a couple of times and turns when the driver door opens and I see Beau get out. My throat goes tight at the sight of him rounding the jeep to stand beside her. She hands him the cigarette and Beau takes a long drag before he leans back against the jeep. She says something to him and he laughs, the sound of it is like music in the air to me, but it’s all wrong.

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