Leaving Fishers Read Free Page B

defiantly. She looked over at Angela, wanting her to say, “Oh, so do I!” or, “I was just there yesterday . . .” Angela’s expression didn’t change. She brought a forkful of salad to her mouth. Then shebent over to get a sip of milk. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face.
    “I’m not sure I know how to get there,” Lara said. “But it doesn’t matter. You can show me.”
    “Okay,” Dorry said, embarrassed. She bit into her sandwich. If it hadn’t been Angela in the blue car yesterday, Dorry was on the verge of making a fool of herself. How could she have thought Angela might live at Northview? Angela had on an expensive-looking sweater and earrings that were probably real diamonds. And she wanted to be Dorry’s friend. Dorry shouldn’t screw that up.
    Dorry ate with her new friends every day after that. It wasn’t always the same people—Brad and Angela were always there, but Lara, Kim, Michael, and Jay rotated in and out. Dorry started running into her friends in the halls between classes, too. Angela’s psychology class met around the corner from Dorry’s history class, and she began waiting outside the door afterward for Dorry. Brad popped up at the oddest moments, usually yelling through the halls, “Are we still on for lunch?”
    Dorry always hoped everyone in the crowded hall overheard. Sometimes other girls gave her odd looks, and Dorry had to stop herself from laughing out loud. Could these city girls be jealous?
    By Friday, Dorry had practically forgotten that she’d felt lonely and friendless only four days earlier. It was that afternoon that Lara helped her study The Scarlet Letter. Lara drove her to Burger King, treated her to fries and a milkshake, and patiently went through the book chapter by chapter until Dorry could discuss Hester Prynne’s sin and redemption almost as nimbly as Lara did.
    “Thanks to you, maybe I’ll be able to get a good enough grade to go to college after all,” Dorry said, only half joking, as they finished. “You’ve saved my life.”
    Lara didn’t smile back. She leaned forward, forehead wrinkled. “Speaking of salvation. . . . You’re using the right words, but do you really believe any of this?” she asked.
    Dorry took the straw out of her almost-empty milkshake cup and began playing with it. “What do you mean? Do I believe the book? It’s fiction, right?”
    Lara’s steady gaze made Dorry uncomfortable. She pretended to look for another French fry, though she knew they were all gone.
    “No, no. Forget The Scarlet Letter. I mean, do you believe in God? Do you believe that sin separates us from God?” Lara leaned in closer with each word.
    Dorry looked around. A group of teenagedboys was only three tables away. “I guess,” Dorry answered. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it much, but I guess I believe in God.”
    “I didn’t used to.” Lara sat back, suddenly acting almost relaxed. “It’s strange, but last year when I was writing all those right answers on Mrs. Crenshaw’s tests, I was an atheist.”
    “Really?” Dorry was fascinated. She’d never known an atheist before. “Why? Didn’t your parents and everybody tell you what you were supposed to believe?”
    “Oh, they didn’t care. It’s not like they really believe in anything. But they didn’t like the other things I was doing.”
    Dorry waited, torn between wanting to know the rest of Lara’s story and fearing Lara would tell it. What if it was really awful?
    “My parents got divorced when I was twelve,” Lara said. “I’m not proud of this, but after that I was really promiscuous. I slept with anyone who wanted me, and lots of guys did because, you know, I would.”
    “At twelve?” Dorry said. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she was still playing with dolls then.
    “Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, yeah. I thought I was so grown up. A lot of the guys treated me badly, and I figured, that’s life. I thought, what’s it matter? It didn’t make any