Sunday Schooling by TheRoost (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📖

I woke up Sunday morning with the sun sliding behind the clouds. I looked at my room; I shared it with my older sister, Mary, who is 8 years old. She says that soon, for her birthday, she will get her own room and this one will be all for me. We have an extra bedroom, that used to be a toy room, but Father says toys make you reliant on consumer need, so he donated them to Salvation Army. That's where we get all of our clothes and games and movies, because Father says the people of the Salvation Army are Christian and don't rely on big companies. Father says that big companies like Target or Walmart are homes of the Devil and we must be pure so we can get into Heaven and be with Jesus.

I in turned on my side and looked out the window. I looked at the big white clouds, and I wondered if they were made of marshmallows. Mother says that as long as I don't know for sure, they can be what ever I want them to be. I want them to be marshmallows, so when I'm big, I can ride an airplane and collect the marshmallow clouds and give it to the orphans at Saint Mary's Christian Home for Unfortunate Children. Father says Mary is a holy name, but Mother rolled her eyes. She told me that names can't be holy, only the people who have them. I do not know who is right anymore.

I got dressed in my green church dress that Mother ironed special for me. It was like what the little girls in the magazine wears, with little puffed up sleeves and it was smooth. Mother said she sewed it herself, but that was in front of Father. She told me later that she bought it at a place called TJ-Max. She said it was on sale, she paid in cash, and as long as I didn't tell Father, and made sure the tags stayed inside the dress, he would never know and I could keep it. It's Mother and me's special secret that I will never, ever tell.

I went to the bathroom and climbed on the stepping stool. I was still small with lots of baby-fat in my cheeks. Father says they are full of childhood innocence, but Mary tells me I will lose it later because of puberty. She says once you go through puberty, you will never be the same again. Puberty scares me: I like being me. I will have to ask Mother about that later. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, combed my curly blond hair that Mother says is in Shirley Temple curls.

Many people tell me that I do no talk or act like a six year old girl. It is because Father says that misbehaving is a child's sin. I asked him what it was and he said that a child's sin is a sin against the parents, blood and the Holy Father too. I was to do as Father told me and Mother told me and what family told me, but Mother said not everything. Father gave her a bad look, his angry look when his eyes start to squint together. Mother said that a cousin of hers, Juliet, listened to a bad Uncle of her's and now she is scarred for life. Father's angry look went away and he told me that for once, Mother was right in manners of sin. Mother smiled and Father gave her another angry look, so she stopped smiling and went into the kitchen to clean. He told me that sometimes, adults did very bad things to children and that I was to tell Mother, Father, and the Preacher if an adult did something that made me have my clothes off with no swim-suit, made me hurt later, or made me uncomfortable. I promised.

Father and Mother say that lying is a sin, but that being totally honest is rude. I asked them if not being completely honest was lying. Father sent me to my room and lashed me on each ear with his belt for mouthing off to my elders. I asked him what I did. Mother said Father shouldn't have done that to me and that sometimes, people do things called "fibs", which is lying but politely. Like saying a meal tastes good if you don't like it, or saying an outfit looks nice on someone if it doesn't. That's what it means by not being completely honest. I asked if it was sinning. Mother said it could be considered sinning, but it was worse to be considered rude or ungrateful, and that our Holy Father forgave such sins. I pray for forgiveness for my parents anyway and if I find I have to fib, I just say nothing or talk of something else.

When I looked at the clock, it said it was 6:15am. I still had twenty minutes before I was even supposed to be up. Father will spank me with his belt if he catches me up this early.

My tummy growls and I wrap my arms around it and squeeze. "No, Mr.Tummy, we must be quiet." I know my tummy can't really talk or understand what I am saying, but it's my only real friend. All of the other little girl's at church stay far away from me. I once asked Mary why other children wouldn't come near me, when she had many friends. She kind of smiled, but it looked sad, and told me that they didn't want to catch what I had.

I was confused for a moment, but then I remembered; I can't walk, at least not very well. I can take a few steps, but I get tired and I have to sit. It's easier to be in my wheelchair. Because of that, we live in a one-story house. Mother hangs my clothes on a rod over my bed, so I can reach them without having to get up. I always have my chair open right next to my bed, so when I am dressed in the mornings, I can slide right. For my 5th birthday, Father got me a motorized wheelchair, so I could move on my own until I got big enough to push the wheels myself. Father says he hopes I will learn to walk on my own, and that it would be one of the greatest gifts his Lord would ever give him. Mother tells me she doubts I will ever fully walk and that Father is becoming delusional. She says that she may go away for a while with her friend Pastor Thomas, but that she will come back for me. Sometimes I hear her getting up in the night. Once, I snuck out of bed and crawled to see if she would really go. I saw Father yelling at her in whispered and hitting her with the belt. She cried and fell on the floor and Father continued to hit her over and over again. The next day, I asked Mother what she did wrong to make Father punish her like that. She said that she wasn't suppose to leave at night and Father thought he needed to teach her that. She would have told me something else, because I could see her lips ready to form the words, but Father walked in and she went quiet.

I am starting to lose my hearing too; I can't hear soft things anymore, like someone dropping a pencil or calling my name from far away. I used to be able to hear the click of a camera when they took school pictures for Bible School, but I can't hear it anymore. My teachers tell me they have to speak above the normal class tone because, to me, they are whispering. I told Mother and Father this and they looked at each other and said that it was probably nothing. I do not know though; afterwords, Mother signed me up with Mother Louisa, a deaf elder at our church, to learn sign language. I think Mother Louisa is my only friend, besides Mr.Tummy. I speak normally and sign at the same time, as I am supposed to do. I think that's why other children stay away from me; to them, I do weird things with my hands. I can also read lips.

This morning, I rolled into the kitchen to wait at the table for breakfast. Maybe Mother would let me help today

, I thought. Wouldn't that be splendid?

I smiled to myself as I rolled silently into the sitting room, but then I heard voices. They were angry voices, very loud even to me. Why did I not hear them in my room? I know Father put something in our walls, saying it was so the guests couldn't hear us playing, but maybe...does Father hurt Mother and I don't know it. I stopped and listened to the voices.

"No, Hector, I have put up with this abuse for too long!" It was Mother's voice, and she sounded hurt and scared and very angry. I pondered what she meant by abuse; this was a new word, and I could not connect it. I would have to ask Mother Louisa. "Not only do you hit me, you hit the children, and they think it's normal! You love your church more than you do us!"

"The church is love, Susanne, can't you understand? If I devote myself to my church, to the House of God, then my family shall be blest," Daddy yelled too, but he sounded hurt and confused.

"The church doesn't allow child abuse, or marital abuse! The church doesn't tell my children that shopping malls are for sluts and evil beings! The church doesn't say that when your wife tries to leave the house so she doesn't lose her husband, the husband should push her down the stairs!" Mother yelled at Father. I wheeled my chair closer, and I could see them now; Mother was with Pastor Thomas, and he was holding her suitcases. Mother had her car keys in her hand and her purse. She was in jeans and a blouse; this was not church-wear. Was she leaving us? And not even saying goodbye? I felt tears slide down my cheeks, but I fought to stay silent. Father was shaking with rage, his eyes holding hell-fire. He held a crushed envelope in his hand and his belt in the other. I saw a red mark on Mother's face. I cried some more.

"That was an accident and you know it!" Father yelled at her, walking closer. Pastor Thomas quickly held him back, forcing him across the room.

"Easy, Hector, easy. We can all just be calm and talk..." Pastor Thomas said.

"Bull!" He spat in Pastor Thomas's face. He turned to face Mother. "You cheated on me, you dirty whore. And you sinned with a preacher of our Lord."

"I did not, Hector! We haven't kissed, we haven't screwed, we just talked! I came for him for help; I was scarred and alone, because you scarred off any friends I made in that church! He listened, he gave me advice. We just talked, and you even encouraged it! He's here so I can leave you safely, and because I feel better about myself when I am with him. Janis was wrong to leave him, and I am going to make him happier than she ever did."

Pastor Thomas, still holding back Father, turned and smiled at Mother. It was...warm, loving, and sweet. It was the kind of smile Mother