I want to go after her, but Kaylee is out the door and following Carolyn before I can even leave my seat. And then Mr. Martin calls everyone to attention, so I couldn’t leave the dining cabin even if I wanted to.
“I trust everyone enjoyed their phone calls home today!” he says. “And now I have another announcement to commemorate the summer’s halfway point—beginning tomorrow, you will all get to wear your own clothes again.”
Oh my God. Finally—gray area. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. The entire room breaks out in celebration: fist bumps, hugs (between members of the opposite sex only, of course), cheers, and lots and lots of applause.
Mr. Martin waits for everyone to settle down before continuing. “In one month, you’re all going to be leaving New Horizons. So the second half of the summer will focus on the real-life applications of what we’ve worked on thus far, to make that transition back to the outside world as seamless as possible. Of course, you won’t be wearing your New Horizons uniforms in your regular lives back home, so it’s important that we help you practice making good choices in the way that you present yourselves now. Brianna, anything to add?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Martin,” Brianna says. “I’d like to add that while you’ll be getting more freedom in your wardrobe from now on, there is a limit to what is acceptable attire. If we see you wearing anything that we don’t approve of, we will ask you to remove it immediately, and we expect your full cooperation.”
We all nod eagerly. Whatever wardrobe restrictions she has in mind still have to be better than the uniforms.
“We also have a limited reserve of men’s and women’s clothes in case you find that your old wardrobe doesn’t comply with who you are now,” Brianna says.
Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to wear anything of theirs ever again.
When we get back to the dorms, Carolyn is already in bed, reading Gatsby.
“Hey,” I say. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’m fine. Sorry I got upset.”
“It’s okay. I think the phone calls put everyone a little bit on edge. Except Matthew.” I smile.
She smiles back.
“So, I have some good news,” I say and pause for dramatic effect. “We don’t have to wear the uniforms anymore!”
Carolyn sits up, all traces of melancholy suddenly vanished. “Are you serious?!”
I grin. “Yup. Starting tomorrow. It’s so we can practice how to ‘make good choices in how we present ourselves’ or something.”
“Oh my God. Amazing!”
“I know, right?” We stay like that, grinning at each other, for a suspended moment. Then Deb announces fifteen minutes till lights out and Carolyn looks away.
“Here,” she says and hands me the book.
I clutch it to my chest.
***
The clothes in the bottom drawers of my dresser are like long lost friends. “Hi,” I whisper and give them a little wave. I don’t care if I look crazy.
I take all my clothes out of the drawers and spread them out on my bed, my heart giving an excited little jump each time I spot one of my favorites pieces. I resist the urge to roll around in them like a pig in mud, but I do pick up a few of them and bring them to my nose, breathing in the smell of home.
I finally decide what I’m going to wear today and then carefully place everything else back in the drawers. But unlike the last time I did this, this is not a good-bye. It’s just a see you later.
It takes a little longer than usual to get ready today because the counselors have to survey each camper from head to toe. They make little adjustments—buttoning up a top button here, nixing a studded belt there—but everyone cooperates. Even Melissa doesn’t complain.
When Brianna gets to me, she purses her lips, studying my layered tanks, skinny jeans, and black high-tops. “Some jewelry would help,” she says finally.
I’m already wearing the cross (none of us pressed our luck with that one), but I grab a long, beaded necklace from my vanity and slip it around my neck too.
Brianna nods and then walks away.
There’s a palpable change in the camp’s atmosphere today. Everyone’s a little extra smiley, chatting a little extra loudly. I think they all understand now what I knew all along—when you’re wearing something you love, you get to be confident. Comfortable. Happy. You get to be you.
Carolyn’s wearing a canary-yellow sleeveless dress with little teardrop earrings and flip-flops. Matthew’s in a pair of cargo shorts and a heather gray V-neck tee. And Daniel’s monochromatic in denim shorts and a baggy blue T-shirt that is way too big for him.
Matthew raises his glass of OJ. “To our last four weeks at New Horizons!” he says.
“And to no more uniforms!” I add.
“Hear, hear!” Carolyn says at the same time that Daniel says, “Cheers!”
We all clink glasses.
“Are you feeling better today, Carolyn?” Daniel asks.
I put my glass down, my good mood deflating a little. Why would he bring that up now, while we’re having such a happy moment?
But Carolyn just smiles and says, “Yes, much. Thanks for asking, Daniel.”
Damn. Now I wish I were the one who’d asked.
The activity for the day is Avoiding Satanic Influences. It’s in the classroom cabin, and we’re all in one big group again.
Mr. Martin begins by giving a speech about how the world is filled with evil and how resisting our SSA and resisting Satan go hand in hand. “Book of James, chapter four, verse seven,” he quotes. “‘Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you.’” He looks at us. “What are some ways you can resist the devil?”
Daniel’s hand goes up. “Don’t do drugs.”
“Very good. What else?”
“Go to church,” Sarah says.
“Yes, that’s very important.”
I catch Carolyn’s eye and she gives a tiny smile. I know what she’s thinking: the Church of Gatsby.
“What else?” Mr. Martin asks.
The list keeps growing. Follow the Ten Commandments. Don’t join a gang. Dress modestly. Wait until marriage for sex. Don’t masturbate.
Matthew rolls his eyes so much I wouldn’t be surprised if they got stuck like that. And a few times he actually bangs his head against his desk in frustration. Honestly, I don’t blame him. Some of this stuff is so ridiculous. I mean, in what world would I ever join a gang?
And I don’t really understand how all of these things can be considered on the same level. Joining a gang means killing people—obviously that’s bad. But dressing immodestly? How is that even in the same conversation?
The group has exhausted its devil-avoiding list, but Mr. Martin still has some ideas of his own to add.
“Halloween, pop music, sex on television…our culture has become so submerged in evil that half the time we don’t even realize it. Take Harry Potter, for example.”
Matthew and I exchange a wide-eyed can you believe this? look. Mr. Martin has really lost it now. How could cute little Harry Potter possibly be bad? Things just elevated to a whole new level of crazy.
“Harry Potter is luring innocent children to witchcraft and the occult,” he explains. “It teaches that you can leave the world of structure, safety, and family and go to a place where the rules don’t apply, where you can get whatever you want—as long as you access dark magic.” Mr. Martin shakes his head in dismay. “How many of you have read the Harry Potter series or seen the movies?”
Almost all of us raise our hands.
“And I’ll bet you never realized how it was corrupting you,” he says.
No one responds, but there are a few shrugs and headshakes. Matthew’s whole body shakes with silent laughter.
Then, suddenly, the silence is broken ever so slightly by Daniel, who whispers something down at his desk. I don’t think Mr. Martin hears way up at the front of the room, but those of us near Daniel turn our heads.
“What was that, Daniel?” Matthew asks.
Daniel looks up. His eyes widen when he sees so many of us looking at him. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“No, you said something,” Matthew presses. “If you have something to say, you should say it.”
“What’s going on back there?” Mr. Martin asks.
“Daniel has something to say,” Matthew announces.
Daniel’s face is the darkest shade of red I’ve ever seen it. “No, I don’t.”
Mr. Martin smiles. “Please, Daniel, if you have something to add, we’d love to hear it.”
Of course he wants to hear it—Daniel always agrees with him. If it were Matthew who had something to say though, I doubt he’d be so encouraging.
Daniel stares down at his desk. “Well…I was just wondering…if…” His voice is low, but it easily carries through the small, silent room. “Well, if you’ve ever read Harry Potter.”
“No, I must say I haven’t,” Mr. Martin says confidently. “I practice what I preach, of course.”
“Oh,” Daniel says. “Well, I don’t think it’s what you think.”
Everyone in the room is rapt with attention now, leaning in a little closer, craning their necks a little further. All eyes and ears are on Daniel.
“Oh? Please, explain,” Mr. Martin says, his voice still as sturdy as ever, but his smile beginning to falter slightly.
“Well, I actually think it’s a pretty Christian story. There’re a lot of parallels between Harry’s story and Jesus’s.”
Whoa. Daniel is standing up to Mr. Martin!
“How so, Daniel?” Mr. Martin says, his tone turning sour.
“It’s all about sacrifice and good winning out over evil and finding your faith, you know? And there are even Bible verses on Harry’s parents’ tombstones: ‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,’ which is from first Corinthians chapter fifteen, verse twenty-six, and ‘Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,’ which Jesus says in Matthew six, verse twenty-one.” Daniel’s confidence is growing now—he’s looking directly at Mr. Martin. “And of course, one of the main themes in The Deathly Hallows is resurrection.”
Mr. Martin swallows, and the muscles in his neck strain against his skin. “Thank you, Daniel. You’ve been very informative.” He manages a small smile. “That’s all for now, everyone. Please proceed to the dining cabin for lunch. Oh, and Matthew, may I see you in my office, please?”
“Now?” Matthew asks, surprised.
“Yes. Now.”
***
Matthew fills us in on what happened with Mr. Martin during leisure hours that night. The Monopoly board is set up between us, but it’s going largely ignored.
“He said that he was trying to give me time to adapt to being at New Horizons, but that by this point, my ‘attitude’ really should have ‘adjusted’ by now, and that he’s going to be a lot less tolerant of my ‘insolent behavior’ from now on.” He looks at Daniel. “Basically, he thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Daniel says. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
Matthew shakes his head. “Forget it. I can handle that asshole. And anyway, I’m the one who owes you an apology. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” But after a pause, he says, “But it was pretty great.” He grins at Daniel.
Daniel smiles too, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I can’t believe I did that. Mr. Martin is just trying to help us, and I was so disrespectful.”
“No, you weren’t,” I say. “You were perfectly respectful. You didn’t raise your voice or anything. You just disagreed with what he was saying. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But I shouldn’t be disagreeing with him in the first place,” Daniel says. “I’m here to learn from him. He won his fight with SSA. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Daniel, I really don’t think disagreeing with Mr. Martin about the merits of Harry Potter is going to be the thing that stops you from getting what you want,” I say gently. And that gets me thinking again about how some of us will get what we want and others won’t. I hope Daniel’s in the former category. I don’t know what category Carolyn’s in. I’m in the latter category, but no one will ever know that.
Because really, the only difference between someone who succeeds at the de-gayifying—like Kaylee—and someone who just pretends to succeed at it—like me—is the happiness level of that person. The rest of it—the hard work, the commitment, the actively pushing back against your nature—is all the same. It’s just that, for me, I imagine the “diet” will be a lot more like starvation.
Well, that’s depressing.
I look around the rec cabin. Kaylee, John, and Deb, the counselors who used to struggle with SSA, are all here tonight. Why are they capable of this and I’m not? What do they have that I don’t?
Somewhere along the way in my wandering, rambling thoughts, my gaze lands on Matthew as he confidently rolls the dice and gets the Monopoly game started.
There is one other possibility I haven’t considered…
What if the de-gayifying doesn’t work at all? What if the success stories are all lies?
Mr. Martin and his ten-year marriage to Nancy. Kaylee and her decision to work at New Horizons after going through the program herself. Daniel’s friend Peter and Counselor John and Marilynn Chaney’s grandnephew and the countless, nameless others…have they all made the same choice I have? Are they all faking it?
Or maybe they’ve been telling the lie so long that they’ve started to believe it themselves.
I lower my head and rest my cheek on the tabletop. The only thing I know for sure is there are a hell of a lot more questions than answers. And when it comes down to it, that’s like knowing nothing at all.