Donut Days Read Online Free PDF

I said, aware that everyone was staring at me intently—even Lizzie.
    “You must have some idea,” my dad said.
    I picked up a brochure and turned it over in my hands, my mind working. I had, in fact, thought about it for a while now, but I couldn’t recall my dad ever having asked me about it before. It seemed like an odd time to bring it up, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
    Dad got up from the table and joined me over at the counter. “How about this one?” he asked, pulling out a brochure for Holy Cross—a conservative Christian college about an hour north of Birch Lake.
    I actually laughed. I thought he was joking. But then he just stood there, all six feet four inches of him, looming over me in his khakis and black sweater, and I realized he wasn’t kidding at all.
    “Um,” I started, and my dad raised his eyebrows so high, I thought they would disappear into his hairline.
    “Dad, I just—I’m not sure I want to go to a college that doesn’t teach geology or evolution.”
    “But why not?” my dad asked.
    “Because the faculty will think the earth is, like, five thousand years old,” I said.
    “But the earth is five thousand years old,” my dad replied, tapping the Holy Cross brochure with a long finger.
    My jaw clenched. This wasn’t the first time my dad and I had clashed over whether God created the earth in six days or in billions of years. “You know there’s no science to support your theory,” I said.
    “And you know I don’t need science when I have the Word,” my dad replied.
    I was suddenly glad I was standing at the counter, because the cheap laminate felt like the only thing supporting me at that moment. I looked at the brochure, then at my dad. I couldn’t help but think that this conversation was connected to my baptism and what had happened there. Or what hadn’t happened. “Look,” I said, trying to sound ultra-reasonable. “I can see why Holy Cross would be appealing for you guys, but it’s not really about that for me. I mean, I carry around the Bible enough as it is. I don’t want to carry it around as a textbook too.”
    Mom took in a big breath when I said that. Her hands were still sudsy and her fingernails, which she never painted because she said it was too flashy, were nearly translucent from the water.
    I knew right away I’d said a very stupid thing. Both my parents were already on edge from Mr. O’Connor’s prophecy, and I was making it worse. I needed to diffuse the situation—pronto.
    “Listen,” I started, but my dad held up a hand.
    “Emma,” he interjected, “we are concerned about your spiritual development. It’s important for us that you grow into someone who is both intellectually and spiritually advanced.”
    This didn’t sound good.
    “Your college funds are for you to attend an institution that would build on, not tear down, your foundations of faith,” my dad continued. “In that sense, we want you to choose a higher-education institution that fosters multiple venues of advancement.”
    Multiple venues of advancement? He suddenly sounded like a lawyer. Or a salesman. Or both. I glanced at the Holy Cross brochure and tried to locate the word journalism on it. It wasn’t there. How could my parents seriously want me to go to a place that didn’t even offer degrees in the subjects I was interested in?
    “Dad,” I said, “I’m not sure I really get what you’re saying here.”
    “I’m saying—and your mom agrees with me—that when you start applying to schools a few short months from now, you should choose from Holy Cross and schools like it.”
    I tried again. “Dad, I don’t want to go to Holy Cross. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
    He nodded. “Then you can choose another Christian college.”
    “But I don’t want to go to a Christian college,” I said, my voice rising slightly. In the moment of silence that followed, I realized what a miracle it was that I hadn’t been homeschooled. Living Word