“Well, well. Don’t you look lovely?” Mom sipped from her coffee cup, leaning forward carefully so she wouldn’t spill on her church clothes—JC Penney knit separates in coordinating mauve and olive green.
Why doesn’t she get new clothes? Amber wondered, shaking her head at her mom’s dated and over-worn outfit. Visions of an eggplant ski bunny swooshed in her head. She could have had three outfits for the price of my new ski clothes.
Dad came into the kitchen as Amber spread butter onto her almost-burnt toast. He winked at Amber. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m going to church.” She held up her hand to ward off the onslaught of questions and squeals of excitement. “Brittany’s church.”
Mom deflated a bit, but almost immediately perked up. “That’s great, honey. What brought this on?”
“I just decided to go. No big deal.”
“Sounds good, sweetie. Have a good time.” Mom put her cup in the sink and grabbed her out-of-season-and-style white purse.
“Have fun.” Dad tucked his Bible under his arm and held the door to the garage for his wife.
That’s it? Shocked they let it go, Amber hurried to the dining-room window where she could see into the open garage. Her mom and dad stood beside the car giving each other big grins and a huge high-five. Dad made two fists and clenched tightly. Amber could read the Yes! on his lips.
So predictable. With a smile, Amber returned to the kitchen, shaking her head while she poured cereal into a bowl and added milk.
She hoped the service wouldn’t be too painful and would pass quickly—they planned to go shopping afterward. Brittany had originally offered to pick her up after church for the shopping part. Why hadn’t she agreed to do it that way? She could have slept in and avoided the whole church thing.
She must be feeling guilty for almost cheating.
No! Why would she feel guilty? She told Kyle no, and she meant it. But I considered it.
Nope! Amber shook her head to clear it of the raging inner battle.
Glancing at the clock on the microwave, she dumped her milk into the sink and rinsed out her bowl. She dried her hands on the towel next to the sink and glanced out the kitchen window just in time to see the silver Lexus pull into the driveway. The horn lightly sounded. She grabbed her purse and pulled the door shut behind her, checking to make sure she’d locked it.
She slid into the backseat next to Brittany. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Kim. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Is our pleasure, Amber.” Mrs. Kim looked into the backseat and smiled warmly. “We go to church, then Brittany take us home so you go shopping. We take a nap.”
Mr. Kim laughed along with his wife and turned on the radio. What nice people.
Amber finally turned her attention to Brittany, adorable in a new black cashmere sweater with a tiny turtle pattern. She also had a hot-pink scarf draped across her shoulders—it looked long enough to reach her knees—and a matching pink, black, and green slouchy hat over her silky hair. She had on the coolestjeans—stylish and nondescript, but Amber could tell by the perfect fit and the luxurious denim they were just as pricey as the rest of her outfit. Brittany always found the cutest clothes in those specialty boutiques she went to with her mom.
“Love the scarf.” Amber reached over and picked up one end and flung it over Brittany’s other shoulder.
“Thanks. It’s new.” Brittany laughed and repositioned the drape. She opened her slouchy, bright green Balenciaga bag and turned it discreetly toward Amber, and motioned for her to look in.
Amber leaned over so she could see inside the bag. Right on top laid two credit cards. The gold one sparkled. She looked up at Brittany. Huh?
Brittany pointed at Amber and back at herself. “Sky’s the limit,” she whispered and pointed both thumbs to the sky. “Dad got another raise.”
“Congratulations.” Amber tried to look happy for Brittany. She didn’t want Brittany to do without just because she had to—did she? And really, what did she have to do without anyway? Visions of her mom in her decade-old knit separates flashed through her mind.
“So, we have the gold card and permission touse it freely.” Brittany grinned, still whispering.
“We’ll see.” Amber didn’t like the idea of using Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s credit card for things her parents couldn’t buy her. How would Mom and Dad feel about that? But maybe they didn’t even have to know about it.
They arrived at the church for the contemporary English service even though there was a Korean service immediately following it. The Kims thought it helped them with their own English, and they enjoyed the music—they called it worship.
Amber considered her parents’ church. It didn’t have music, and the service reminded her more of a ninety-minute Bible study. What’s the word? Stifling. Much of it rose above her head, and she couldn’t be bothered trying to figure out all of the Greek mumbo-jumbo. At least Brittany’s church broke things up with music, soloists, instruments, and sometimes even little skits. Kept things interesting—as interesting as church could be, anyway.
As they walked into the sanctuary and found seats, Amber wondered if she could find God somewhere other than at church. There had to be other ways. She gazed around the auditorium and wondered what church looked like back when Jesus walked the earth. They probably didn’t have volleyball and basketball teams. Pretty sure there weren’t potluck dinners and Christmas plays. But what if this was the only way now? Scary thought.
The congregation rose to their feet as the band started to play. Some people raised their hands into the air; others clapped along to the music. Many people swayed along with the beat. They sang every song three times, at least. Why did they have to do that? Didn’t they know enough worshippy songs to do more of a variety rather than sing the same ones over and over?
Amber didn’t want to stare at Brittany, but—dying to know if she joined in on all the hoopla—she cast a subtle glance out of the left corner of her eye without turning her head at all.
Brittany sang along with the music. In fact, she knew the song well enough to sing along with her eyes closed. That must mean they did the same ones every week, too. Sigh.
The pastor took the microphone and invited people to come forward if they needed prayer for some reason. Amber stared openmouthed when Brittany’s mom scrambled over the feet of at least eight people to get to the other side of their seating section. She went down theaisle and stood before the pastor with the other hopefuls. Amber counted two women wearing hats, three men in ties, two kids she knew from school, one little boy with his arm in a cast, and an elderly man in a wheelchair being pushed by a bent-over woman—likely his wife. What did they all expect God to do for them? What could He do for them? It was different than the prayer time at the concert. This time the lights were bright, and people were just looking around like it was no big deal.
Amber checked her fingernails, then counted the lights hanging from the ceiling while the pastor prayed for the people up front and the band continued to play and sing soft repeats of the choruses they had already sung. The music finally ended, the pastor prayed again, the offering baskets passed from hand to hand, then, finally, sermon time. Half down, half to go.
Amber wished she’d mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open. But wait. She wanted to try to take it all in, didn’t she? I want to find God, right? She sat up straighter and popped a piece of gum into her mouth hoping the sugar would perk her up.
“… still small voice that He uses to call out to you in your life.” Pastor Johnson paced across the stage while he spoke. “It always seems like the devil, our enemy, shouts at us with temptations, taunts, sarcasm, while the Holy Spirit of God whispers through the storm. You see, He’s one classy guy. He doesn’t need to shout, beg, or make deals with us. He just speaks truth, quietly. He knows we’ll hear it when we’re ready to listen for it.” He paused and looked around at the people.
He’s right. Those voices, those battles she’d been having since the White Horse concert came to Amber’s mind. Why did the wrong things always look more appealing, more fun, but the right choices were quiet, difficult, and not nearly as shiny? I thought I was the only one who felt that way.
Pastor Johnson continued. “There is not one thing new under the sun. This isn’t any surprise to God, and it shouldn’t be any surprise to us. The Bible tells us how our enemy operates. It also tells us we need to shut off his access to us by not giving him an ear. Learn the sound of the voice of God, and meditate on His truths so you can’t mistake an imposter.”
The rest of the service moved swiftly, and they stood for the last chorus before Amber knew it. Time for shopping.
After they dropped Mr. and Mrs. Kim off at home, Brittany turned the car in the direction of the mall. “So?” She looked at Amber, her eyes big with hope. “Did you hate it this time?”
“Surprisingly, no.” Amber shook her head and thought hard about her answer. “In fact, there were a few things I’ll have to think about.” She didn’t want Brittany to get the wrong idea, though. “But, Britt. Come on, the music and stuff? That’s a little much for me.” She shook her head. “It’s like my mom and dad’s church goes to one extreme and yours goes to the other.”
“Yeah, it probably seems that way. You’d get used to it in time and eventually start to enjoy it, I promise.” Brittany looked thoughtful. “Hey, speaking of your parents’ church—between the two, which do you prefer?”
“Oh, no contest. If I had to choose, yours! Hands down.” Amber feigned horror at the thought. “That’s like asking if you prefer a funeral or a baby shower.” Both girls laughed.
Amber turned toward the window and realized they had passed the mall. “Where are we going? I thought we were going shopping.”
“We are. We’re going for the good stuff on Mom and Dad—forget the mall.” She pulled into the parking lot of a high-end strip center.
“Britt, I can’t let your parents pay for clothes for me. I don’t really need anything, anyway.” Amber reached for the door handle. “I’m calling this a window-shopping trip for me.”
“Come on. Don’t be silly.” Brittany waved the gold card in the air like a dangling carrot taunting Amber.
Amber laughed and shrugged. “We’ll see.”
They wandered through the stores, felt the rich fabrics, and tried on several outfits. Then they saw them. The perfect pair of Lucky Brand jeans—long, dark, just-right wash. Perfect.
“Amber, you need to try these on. They’ll never fit me.” Brittany shoved the hanger at her.
Amber lifted the price tag, then peered at it through one squinted eye. “One hundred dollars? You have GOT to be kidding. There’s no way.” She started to return them to the rack.
“Don’t look at the price. Try them on.” Brittany grabbed Amber’s shoulders and steered her toward the fitting rooms.
Against her better judgment, Amber slipped on the jeans. Ahh. Second skin. Made for her. “Well, you were right. They are perfect. But I’m not getting them.”
“Sure you are. Take them off.”
“Did you hear me, Britt? A hundred bucks! I’m not buying them.”
“No, you’re not buying them. I am. End of discussion.”
Amber got dressed quietly. She wanted those jeans—badly—but felt awkward having Brittany buy them for her. I guess that’s what friends are for, right?
By the time she’d finished dressing, Amber had decided to let Brittany buy the jeans for her if she really wanted to.
On the way to the cash register—Brittany with a small pile in her arms, and Amber with her pair of jeans—they passed the Donna Karan section. Amber stopped short at the sight of a mannequin wearing an emerald green pintucked blazer, black slacks, and a white blouse—the kind of outfit that never went out of style.
“I wish I could buy my mom that outfit right there.” Amber pointed at the mannequin.
“Well, get it for her. I told you, sky’s the limit.”
“No way! I’m not letting you buy something for my mom. I was just saying …” Amber checked the price tags. “Besides, it’s twice as much as my jeans. No way.”
“Seriously, Amber. If you don’t, I’m going to have to come all the way back here and get itlater. Save me the trip.” Brittany winked.
“No. Really. You can’t.” Amber pleaded with her eyes. “Mom would be really embarrassed. She’d never be able to take it and enjoy it. I’ll save up for it and get it for her birthday or something.”
“That’s a lot of money to save for a birthday present.” Brittany gave in but shrugged her shoulders. “It’s already March. Isn’t her birthday in August?”
Amber gazed out the storefront window. “Mom doesn’t care much about that stuff anyway.” She’s happy with what she has.