Donut Days Read Online Free PDF Page B

Redeemer’s congregation had kept my parents too busy with endless phone calls, counseling sessions, and prayer requests that sucked away their time. I used to resent the demands, but now I thought it was a lucky break. Would I even want to go to college if my parents had taken the time to keep me at home studying Joseph’s coat of colors?
    “If you don’t choose a Christian school, then your funds will be withheld,” he said simply. My brain suddenly felt like it was pulsing, trying to process his words.
    “Are you being serious?”
    Dad nodded. “Very. Your mother agrees with me on this.”
    I felt out of breath. How could they do this? I’d worked my tail off to get good grades in high school, and here they were saying it was all for nothing, since my mind was about to be boxed in. How was that even fair?
    “Are you doing this because of the baptism?” I asked. “Are you doing this because I don’t speak in tongues?”
    Dad looked at Mom. “I’m not sure we want to directly attribute this to anything that happened today . . .” He trailed off. My blood hot and pumping, I snatched up the Holy Cross brochure and tore it in half.
    “Emma!” Mom cried, like I’d just torn up a picture of Jesus. I ignored her and walked out of the kitchen as fast as I could. I took the stairs two at a time and slammed my door when I reached my bedroom.
    From that moment on, I’d started figuring out how to get out of Birch Lake without my parents’ college money. If they were going to support me only if I went to a Christian college, then I’d figure out a way to support myself. Besides, it wasn’t as if I didn’t have practice at it. Every time my mom bought Lizzie something new, it meant I had to work twice as hard to make sure I had what I needed.
    By the end of the summer, I’d seen all the Press publicity about the scholarship and reasoned that the story I’d write about the camp was my ticket to freedom—my ticket out of the Bible-soaked existence I was swimming in. And even if I lost the contest (which wasn’t going to happen, but still, my dad always taught me to have a backup plan “in case God’s will is different than what you think it is”), I figured I could take out loans for a semester or two at a state school—maybe the University of Minnesota—and if I worked a couple jobs while I studied, I could eventually get my college education.
    A non-Christian college education, thank you very much.
     
     
     
    I’d felt so brave planning to be at the camp, so thrilled to be around groups of people who were passionate about something other than the New Testament, but actually standing there while a sea of people jostled around me was a different story. I wasn’t going to just automatically fit in here, like I’d thought. It was going to be work—just like everything else. Maybe this is a bad idea , I thought. I craned my neck to see if I could still spot Mrs. Stein’s tail-lights, but she was long gone.
    I suddenly wanted to call Jake so badly, I ached. He was the only one who might actually understand what I was going through. I knew the University of Minnesota hadn’t started fall classes yet. Maybe there was a chance Jake was still in town and we could pick up right where we left off. Except for the part where I was a jerk-face, of course.
    Before I could overthink everything, I snapped open the phone, found his name, and pressed talk. My feet shuffled as I counted the rings. One, two, three . . .
    “Hello?” Jake’s voice sounded exactly the same as I’d remembered. I instantly felt better just hearing it.
    “Uh, hey. Jake. This is Emma.”
    There was a silence so long, I thought Jake had hung up. Then I heard, “Um, wow. Okay. Hi, Emma.”
    “Hey,” I replied, trying to be casual, like we hadn’t gone the whole summer without speaking. “How are you?”
    “Er, fine. How are you?”
    Oh, awesome. My mom gave a crazy sermon tonight and now I’m in the middle of a donut camp by myself.