different."
"This is it!" He beamed at me and jokingly asked, "Who lowered your ears? Your haircut looks just awful!" Uncle was unaware of my sensitivity about my ears, but he knew who had run barber clippers recklessly around my head.
"It's good to see you!" he cried. He gave me a quick hug and patted my cropped hair. I presumed he was the usher when he held open the door to the sanctuary and gave me a strong push. I entered with my hands in semiprayer; the fingers were laced, but not shaped into a steeple. Music played while I lingered by the back wall for a few minutes. I scanned the members. Almost all the men sported the same kind of haircut that crowned my gourd. Everyone was singing with gusto and scenting the air with breakfast smells. I smelled ham and eggs, and waffles with little weenies on the side. The congregation was well fed, even sort of porky. One woman was so large that many children could stand in her shadow and be cool on a hot day.
The pastor, though, was a skinny man with a skinny tie. His singing voice was weak and his face plain as a piece of toast. But I liked him because he didn't embarrass me by announcing my sudden presence with a loud, "Now, who's this young man?" He just nodded his head in my direction.
I found a seat near the front. I spotted Jessica immediately, for she was at the pianoâthe girl was multitalented! Her pretty hands were on the ivories, except when she had to spank her sheet music back into place. It kept trying to close as she drummed out a slow song about rocks, flocks, and mighty winds.
The song ended and Jessica stood up, smoothing the back of her dress. She started to take her seat in a pew, but paused when she recognized me, then maneuvered in my direction. As she sat next to me, she smiled.
"My uncle comes here," I confided. I knew I probably shouldn't whisper in church, but I needed to lay the groundwork for our conversation. Everything was going according to plan. I was sure I would have a chance to talk to Jessica after church. She bit and asked, "Who's your uncle?"
"I'll give you a hint. He's a barber."
"Oh, you mean Mr. Mendoza."
I nodded and ran a hand over my head to signify that he had just cut my hair. I then turned my attention to the pastor, who was standing behind the pulpit shuffling papers. His cough was theatrical. He wiped his eyeglasses, also theatrically, before he set them back on his face and began his sermon.
While it didn't last longâten minutes, the time it took me to eat two Life SaversâI couldn't absorb a word. I was too conscious of Jessica beside me. She was beautiful as a flowerâno, lots of flowers set in a vase next to a crystal fruit bowl filled with bananas and apples. I could swear that the blood in me was rushing at super speed. Although when I'd met her at the awards banquet I'd been more interested in the cookies, now I couldn't blame Joey for liking her. She was not only beautiful, but she could do backflips, play the piano, and probably engage her mind in lots of other things. She also smelled good.
I turned to see if I knew anyone else and gulped when I spotted Mrs. Fuller, the gossip. She waved at me and hoisted a smile that was closer to a scowl.
"What's wrong?" Jessica asked.
"Nothing," I answered. My mouth was dry; most of my moisture was now on my face in the form of sweat.
I then nearly jumped when I noticed the two teenage boys who had scammed me and stolen my bike. They were down the row, slouched in the pew with their feet out in the aisle. I saw their dirty tennis shoes with the blackest of shoelaces, which had me musing whether their heartless souls were like that, too. Then a revelation struck me and moved the contents of my breakfast in my stomachâit was that strong. Was it possible that we humans were like shoelaces? You can either be tied up properly, or dragged through littered gutters.
Jessica touched my forearm again to point out that an elderly gent was reaching toward me with
"This is it!" He beamed at me and jokingly asked, "Who lowered your ears? Your haircut looks just awful!" Uncle was unaware of my sensitivity about my ears, but he knew who had run barber clippers recklessly around my head.
"It's good to see you!" he cried. He gave me a quick hug and patted my cropped hair. I presumed he was the usher when he held open the door to the sanctuary and gave me a strong push. I entered with my hands in semiprayer; the fingers were laced, but not shaped into a steeple. Music played while I lingered by the back wall for a few minutes. I scanned the members. Almost all the men sported the same kind of haircut that crowned my gourd. Everyone was singing with gusto and scenting the air with breakfast smells. I smelled ham and eggs, and waffles with little weenies on the side. The congregation was well fed, even sort of porky. One woman was so large that many children could stand in her shadow and be cool on a hot day.
The pastor, though, was a skinny man with a skinny tie. His singing voice was weak and his face plain as a piece of toast. But I liked him because he didn't embarrass me by announcing my sudden presence with a loud, "Now, who's this young man?" He just nodded his head in my direction.
I found a seat near the front. I spotted Jessica immediately, for she was at the pianoâthe girl was multitalented! Her pretty hands were on the ivories, except when she had to spank her sheet music back into place. It kept trying to close as she drummed out a slow song about rocks, flocks, and mighty winds.
The song ended and Jessica stood up, smoothing the back of her dress. She started to take her seat in a pew, but paused when she recognized me, then maneuvered in my direction. As she sat next to me, she smiled.
"My uncle comes here," I confided. I knew I probably shouldn't whisper in church, but I needed to lay the groundwork for our conversation. Everything was going according to plan. I was sure I would have a chance to talk to Jessica after church. She bit and asked, "Who's your uncle?"
"I'll give you a hint. He's a barber."
"Oh, you mean Mr. Mendoza."
I nodded and ran a hand over my head to signify that he had just cut my hair. I then turned my attention to the pastor, who was standing behind the pulpit shuffling papers. His cough was theatrical. He wiped his eyeglasses, also theatrically, before he set them back on his face and began his sermon.
While it didn't last longâten minutes, the time it took me to eat two Life SaversâI couldn't absorb a word. I was too conscious of Jessica beside me. She was beautiful as a flowerâno, lots of flowers set in a vase next to a crystal fruit bowl filled with bananas and apples. I could swear that the blood in me was rushing at super speed. Although when I'd met her at the awards banquet I'd been more interested in the cookies, now I couldn't blame Joey for liking her. She was not only beautiful, but she could do backflips, play the piano, and probably engage her mind in lots of other things. She also smelled good.
I turned to see if I knew anyone else and gulped when I spotted Mrs. Fuller, the gossip. She waved at me and hoisted a smile that was closer to a scowl.
"What's wrong?" Jessica asked.
"Nothing," I answered. My mouth was dry; most of my moisture was now on my face in the form of sweat.
I then nearly jumped when I noticed the two teenage boys who had scammed me and stolen my bike. They were down the row, slouched in the pew with their feet out in the aisle. I saw their dirty tennis shoes with the blackest of shoelaces, which had me musing whether their heartless souls were like that, too. Then a revelation struck me and moved the contents of my breakfast in my stomachâit was that strong. Was it possible that we humans were like shoelaces? You can either be tied up properly, or dragged through littered gutters.
Jessica touched my forearm again to point out that an elderly gent was reaching toward me with
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