Read Online Chloe by Cleveland McLeish - Free Book Online Page A

James funnel into the building with other members
and take their seats in the pews. She wishes James did not want to sit so close
to the stage. The choir, outfitted in purple robes, assumes their places on the
bleachers. They start singing with piano accompaniment. James stands and
prompts Chloe to do the same. She is reluctant at first, but when she realizes
that everyone else is standing, she joins him.
    Some members listen attentively, swaying, while others are
actively raising hands and singing along. Chloe is oddly fascinated.
    She can hear all manner of voices blending together in the
air around her. The one directly behind her is in desperate need of lessons.
Chloe stands passively with her lips shut and her hands folded. The black
polish does not go unnoticed by an elderly couple to their right. James is
actively participating beside her. She rarely hears him sing. He has a pleasant
voice. The choir finishes and James sits. Chloe sits down too. She sinks low in
her seat.
    Pastor Kathleen Jones ascends the stairs of the squat stage
and walks to the podium. She faces the audience with a warm and welcoming smile
on her face.
    “Such a beautiful congregation. Greetings,” she begins.
    “Greetings,” they respond collectively. The wave of voices
startle Chloe. She frowns, slightly unnerved by the robotic nature of the
reply, and resumes slouching against the back of the bench. Kathleen continues
to address the congregation.
    “You ok?” James whispers, leaning closer to Chloe. Chloe’s
face is drawn into a dour mask, staring straight ahead. She brusquely points at
a cluster of people staring at them off to the left. They promptly turn away
when she points, a few flipping through their bibles.
    “Reminders of why I don’t go to church,” she declares.
    James is undaunted. He smiles at her affectionately and
gently bumps up against her elbow. “It’s their problem if they can’t appreciate
different,” he whispers.
    With her eyes downcast, Chloe starts picking at the polish
on her nails. “It’s ok if you don’t want to sit with me,” she whispers. “Can’t
imagine what it’s like for the Pastor’s son to be seen sitting with a Goth.”
    “I’m sitting exactly where I want to sit,” James replies
confidently. A lady sitting behind them, probably the one who is tone deaf,
leans forward and makes a shushing noise, prompting them to be quiet. Chloe
folds her arms defiantly, adopting a pugnacious frown. James is trying to
suppress a smile.
    Kathleen’s hands are raised. “—today we have in our midst
Prophet Phil, who will bring us the word. Make him welcome.”
    Kathleen Jones gestures towards a willowy young man, probably
in his mid-thirties, ascending the steps with an air of sophistication. He
wears thick rimmed glasses and a freshly pressed suit. His hair is neatly
gelled back. Everyone applauds and some of the people cheer as Phil crosses the
stage to the podium, clutching his well-used bible. Kathleen greets him with an
affectionate squeeze of his hand, which he returns with a warm smile.
    Chloe is reminded of her unfortunate experience at Orion’s.
She wishes she had this good of a reception there.
    Kathleen steps aside. Prophet Phil assumes the podium. He
smiles. The expression is serene and soothing. “Greetings brothers, sisters,
friends.” He nods to them.
    “Greetings,” they reply chorally. Chloe shakes her head a little,
still disturbed by the scripted nature of it all.
    “God gave me a Word for this church. Maybe not for everyone,
but particularly for one.” And to her horror, Phil’s eyes dart in the direction
of Chloe and James.
    Chloe blanches and starts to sink lower in her seat. “This
is not good.”
    James, suddenly worried, fixes her with a pleading look.
“Don’t leave,” he asks. Chloe cannot find the will power to move anyway, not
while Phil’s eyes are relentlessly pinning her in place.
    “Then don’t make him pick on me,” she suggests in a harsher
whisper.