Faking Faith Read Online Free PDF Page A

my fundamentalist Christian homeschooled girl blog habit. I checked the sites like a drug addict looking for a fix, absorbing everything I could about their lives, pouring over pictures and links and Bible studies like it was my sole purpose on this planet.
    It’s not like I had anything else to do.
    And being acknowledged by one of them made me want even more. I wanted to be part of things, not just an anonymous voyeur or random commentator. I wanted to be known to them. I wanted to go deeper and further.
    And, in my mind, the logical way to achieve that was for me to set up my own blog.
    Not as myself. Not as Dylan Mahoney, Known Slut and Psycho Window Smasher. What nice girl would ever want to read her blog?
    But as Faith, my perfect alter ego.
    Faith … Faith … Faith .
    Faith had a lovely, wholesome life. She lived on a farm in southern Wisconsin with her three brothers and five sisters. Of course, Faith was homeschooled, loved to wear only dresses, and her favorite things to do were bake sourdough bread from scratch and study the Bible. Just like every other good fundamentalist girl, Faith fervently hoped that someday a godly man would ask her daddy if he could court and marry her.
    I snickered as I wrote that.
    “You girls don’t know how good you have it,” I muttered to my silent dark blue bedroom as I wrote my fake autobiography. After being chewed up and tossed aside by Blake, the idea of a genteel, parent-guided courtship was hilarious. And kind of weirdly appetizing.
    Once I had Faith’s blog set up, I decided that I needed a photo to really give it that personal touch. But not a stolen picture of some random stranger on the Internet. Everyone knows that trying to fake a photo online eventually leads to someone out there recognizing the ruse and exposing the lie. And this particular online world was small and insular—I had one shot to do this right. The picture had to actually be of me.
    I searched through my closet for a while and realized I had nothing appropriate to wear for such a photo. These girls only wore demure, dowdy dresses and skirts, and everything I owned was too tight or dark-colored or modern. So I went to the thrift stores looking for outfits.
    Even though I went alone, it was the most fun I’d had in months. I pretended Abigail was there with me, looking through the clothes and deciding which outfits were modest and proper. Together, we finally found one that worked.
    . . .
    “Wait, why am I doing this again?” Scottie asked, holding my digital camera.
    We were in the family room after school one Tuesday in early March. I was sitting in an armchair, attired in my recently acquired bleached-denim jumper that any girl in my school would rather die than be seen wearing. My dark hair was in a long braid over my shoulder instead of in its usual careless ponytail. I’d added a touch of pale pink lip-gloss and subtracted the chipped blue polish from my fingernails. I was looking positively pure.
    “Because I’m paying you ten bucks,” I said to Scottie sweetly. “Now no more questions. Just take the picture, please.”
    “Man, you look weird,” Scottie said, aiming the camera. “Like a brainwashed Little House on the Prairie freakshow.”
    I crossed my legs at the ankle and smiled angelically for the camera.
    “That’s the idea, little brother,” I replied.
    Once I had a suitable picture, I felt like I could really get into character. I began to write Faith’s blog entries. First I created an introductory post, talking in detail about my fake family and my fake life and my fake beliefs. I filled out a back story, giving Faith a perfect rustic childhood.
    It was weirdly exhilarating, and ten times better than any of the therapy sessions I’d suffered through immediately after the nastiness with Blake.
    “I have the sweetest Mama and most amazing Daddy in the whole world!” I wrote, in my dark bedroom in my empty house. “They are the best examples of godly parents that I could