Four feet, two inches high, with stringy brown hair, Beth Kingsley was every inch a criminal. Her feet slapped the wood floor with disconcerting and guilty thwacks. Her nightgown twisted and twirled like the ghost of her conscience as she paced the floor. She opened the white door a crack. Lucy’s back was to the door as she clicked away on her laptop; she did not so much as stir a dust particle at the creak. Her mass of perfect golden hair cascaded down from the thick black band of head phones. Beth peeped an “ahem.” Nothing.
She stuck her shoulders in the room, but her feet were so fused down, it seemed they might hollow themselves through the floor. Beth drew back like a magnet, and slowly assembled what specks of courage she had left. She bore her feet up and stepped through the doorway.
She stood there, not able to move forward, or back, her eyes avoiding the back of Lucy’s head and darting around like a ticking bomb. The pure colors of the room mocked her. Walls of palest pink were embroidered by shades of white. To Beth’s right stood the creaseless bed – ribbons of pink and white dance on the quilt and angel cloud pillows rested against a dark wood head board. Beth brushed the bed and shuddered. She was not fit to touch it. Straight ahead the off-white curtains of the window were still drawn back, revealing a dark sky dusted with stars and a brighter paper cut of light that was the moon. Beth caught a deep breath and approached the cherry wood desk next to the window.
“Lucy.” Her voice punctured the air like a little red tack.
The golden ripples bounced aside to reveal pink cheeks and a rounded mouth that transformed instantly into a smile. But as Lucy took in Beth’s sallow countenance and fidgeting fingers, her features drew together. She took off her headphones and held out her hand. “What’s wrong?”
Beth shook her head at Lucy’s gesture but let a lonely tear stroke her cheek. Her voice had left her. She swallowed. Lucy turned her chair around and sat hunched, with her hands clasped beyond her knees, her caring eyes focused on Beth’s down-turned ones.
“Lucy,” Beth started again. She blinked furiously to release the water from her lashes and swallowed once more. “Okay. I have to tell you something.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
Beth exhaled with might and stuck out her chin. She inhaled. “I did something bad.”
Lucy leaned in further, her golden tresses falling in her face. As she tucked them back behind her ears and tightened her gaze, her sister twisted uncomfortably. She gripped both sides of her nightgown and flitted her eyes to the left. Then in a whisper like a ghost ship sailing in at dawn, she said, “I stole six M&Ms from the candy machine.”
Lucy bolted straight in her chair and let out a giant snort through a Cheshire cat grin. “You WHAT?”
Beth started back.
“How?” Lucy inquired as she double over in her chair.
Beth frowned and stomped her foot. “Lucy!”
Tears began to stream down Lucy’s reddening face as Beth’s face changed expression to that of an angry baby cherub.
“Stop it,” she wined.
Through silent chuckles Lucy apologized. “Seriously, though.”
“Lucy!”
Lucy gave a giant last laugh and then calmed herself, waving her hands in front. “Okay, okay. I’m done. Tell me what happened.”
“Well, last week, when my class went to the bowling alley, Kurt Weems kept calling me a goody-two-shoes, and I didn’t like it. So Raven and me-”
“Raven and I.”
Beth looked at her sister and then to the left, “Raven and I went to the little candy machines, and I stuck my finger into the M&Ms machine and pulled out a couple of M&Ms and showed them to Kurt, but he didn’t believe that I had done it, so then I had to go back and show him. And so I pulled out four more. Two for him and two for his friends.”
“Hmmm…” Lucy twisted up her mouth in thought. “Why did you let Kurt get to you? You’re not a goodie-two-shoes, you just behave well, like God wants you to.”
“I’m going to HELL!” Beth sobbed. She collapsed into a hunch on the floor and buried her face in her hands, her stringy hair strewn all over her.
“Beth! Hush.” Lucy dropped to the floor and put her arm around her sister’s back. “God will forgive you if you’re sorry.”
Beth sniffed, and peering at Lucy with her wet cheek to the floor, said “But I don’t know if I am. I wanted to prove that I could be bad.”
“Why do you want to be bad?” Lucy stroked Beth’s back.
“I dunno…Kurt says it’s more fun to misbehave.”
“And you believed him?”
“Well, yeah. He laughs a lot.”
“What does he laugh about?”
“I dunno.”
“Yes you do.”
Beth shrugged her shoulders, still hunched, “I guess maybe, well, sometimes he laughs when people get hurt.”
Lucy was silent.
“Maybe a lot of the time.”
“And do you think he’s very happy? Do you think he likes himself?”
“I kind of like him.”
“Don’t you like God more?”
Beth nodded, her hair sliding against the floor.
“And you know that He wants you to be good.”
“Yes.”
“Then be good.”
Beth crawled into Lucy’s lap and looked out at the paper cut moon that was almost swallowed by the dark, and she clung to her sister.
