Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Several years went by, relatively uneventfully. Amber grew accustomed to her affliction, her special talent. She learned how to manage it, as best she could. She even returned to school. She was permitted to keep mainly to herself. The playground was decreed off-limits. Fortunately, people tended to steer clear of her, for obvious reasons. She was deemed a freak, though not clinically insane. Parents didn’t want their children to associate with her—what if it were contagious?

One day, at school, the teacher, Ms. Westerly, was talking about God. “And so, God cares for all his children,” she said, “even when they don’t deserve it.” She smiled benignly, showing a neat row of teeth, her eyes sparkling like drops of morning dew. “But he wants us to be good, you and me, so that the world will be a happier place”. Amber was listening intently: “Does he ever sleep?” she asked. “No, he never sleeps,” Ms. Westerly replied. “He is always awake and always will be”. Amber persisted: “Does he ever get drowsy?” “No, he is always wide awake”. “Does he have any eyelids?” “That’s a funny question,” was the answer. “He isn’t human, so he has no eyes.” “What kind of person is he, then? What does he look like? What does he do all day? How does he spend his nights, if he has nights?” Ms. Westerly was growing impatient, her own eyes narrowing: “Amber, you are taking it too literally and your question is really not appropriate”. “I just want to understand what God is really like. Why does he let bad things happen?” At this her stomach tightened. “I would never let those things happen and I am just a girl.” The reply came: “I don’t think God wants to hear that kind of talk from you.” She wasn’t smiling now. “Why not? It just seems wrong. It makes me want to…” Ms. W. answered: “That will be quite enough from you. Don’t blame your own problems on God”. At this point Amber excused herself to go to the bathroom because she could feel an attack coming on. Her eyes were watering from holding it back. She jumped up and sprinted down the hall, just making it in time.

Back in the classroom the sniggering had subsided and the teacher looked a little shame-faced (she was quite a nice person really). The children had been warned about the strange little girl with the eating disorder. It might be catching. Best not to go too near her. She was obviously not quite all there in the head. Being sick at sin—they had never heard of such a thing. And who was she to say what sin is and isn’t? What gave her the right?