By sci_geeek

Saturday, September 12 – Hannah Perales

Wow. It’s finally Sabbath.

If you knew the rest of my family, you’d think it strange that I’m a Seventh-day Adventist. Why? Well, look at the Perales side of the family, for example. Catholic. Pious ones. Except my dad – I guess the best way I can describe his religious convictions is by saying that he’s sort of Catholic. Don’t ask me when was the last time he went to mass or confession. I often forget that he even follows a religion.

Now look at the Wile side of the family. Bible Belt-type Baptists, can be generous but a bit on the extreme side with some beliefs. And I swear, nearly all of the adults have a gun with them. Freaks me out, especially since according to some of their minds I’m of an inferior race. My Hispanic heritage is often the trigger of heated discussions about politics that aren’t even my own. 

Whatever. At least I only see them once a year.

My mom grew up in that environment, but finally left. She’s not a Christian anymore, not at all. In fact, she’s taken an interest in Buddhism lately. Her recent meditation rituals creep me out. And the music she listens to now – it’s almost psychedelic, if you ask me.

I was never taught to follow any specific religion. It was always kind of up to me. So when I moved to Ontario and got enrolled at the church school, it was only natural that I chose to become an Adventist. Besides, I was being taught a much more loving God than those my mom and dad knew. I was baptized in seventh grade.

It hasn’t been too great lately, though. Frankly, I feel kind of…well, sour. My thoughts definitely are. I wonder if it’s reflected in my actions too.

I speed down the stairs and into the kitchen. “¡Buenos días, Papi!” Sniffing the warm smell of the fresh arepas my dad has just set on the table, I snatch one. “Ooh, hot hot hot…”

(Venezuelan arepas are kind of like thick corn tortillas, a bit crunchy on the outside and soft inside, and you fill them up like pita bread. And the fillings — always savory, never sweet.)

I juggle the arepa from hand to hand while reaching for a plate and a butter knife. I slit one end of the arepa and fill it with queso fresco — I’ve got no time to see if there are any tomatoes or black beans to add. I bow my head for a moment, cautiously wondering if Dad is watching. Then I wolf down the arepa. Like I said, I don’t have much time.

I race back up to my room after finishing my breakfast. I brush my teeth, fix my hair, do my makeup, and put on a yellow blouse and a white skirt. I grab my purse and throw my phone, some pencils, and a small sketch pad into it. After eating breakfast, I hurry outside. Sure enough, there’s the Lauriers’ car in our driveway, with Mr. Laurier, Dee Kay, Sean, and Joel waiting to pick me up for church. One of the car doors opens. “Hannah, come on in!” Dee Kay calls. 

I take a seat beside Dee Kay and buckle my seat belt. I look down at Dee Kay’s skirt. Below the knee. It might be for “modesty” or whatever, but I think her dad also has her wear those skirts from time to time because they’re hard to run in. I usually see her wearing them on Sabbaths after she’s done something crazy (ahem…climbing up a tree with a broken arm to get a Frisbee, anyone?). Chuckling, I ask her, “How are your wasp stings?”

“Oh here, look.” She shows me her arm and face. Her several wasp stings are still red and swollen, but definitely not as bad as yesterday. Knowing Dee Kay, she’ll probably be showing them off at Sabbath school. “I’ve been stung by bees before, but never wasps!” she exclaims, her cast waving around as she’s expressing herself. “This definitely hurt more than bee stings! Ughhh, the stings got all shrunken.”

“Shrunken?”

“I’m training for the Say The Antonyms of Words Instead of the Actual Words Challenge,” she explains. “I’m going to start the challenge on Monday.”

“Ahh.” Never heard of it before…but at least it doesn’t seem to be dangerous.

I change the subject. “Don’t do that again please,” I tell her, stifling laughter. “I warned you and everything. Davi was pretty much on the verge of a panic attack. You could’ve broken your other arm!”

“Huh? Ohh, don’t worry about it,” she reassures me. “I’ve broken bones before, it’s actually no big deal.”

Yeah, and one of those bones wasn’t hers. My elbow still hurts sometimes in winter.

“How’s taekwondo going?” I ask.

“It’s going spectacularly!” she replies. “It’s so exhilarating…” 

That’s something I really admire about Dee Kay. Nothing stops her. Not a broken arm, not a wasp attack, not a skirt that falls below her knees…and she always seems so happy. I wish I was like that. 

We get to church and the first person I recognize there is Maelynn from school. She seems really sweet, but she’s really shy too, so I barely know anything about her. At school, she usually tries to talk with Avalon. I don’t know how someone would want to become friends with Avalon, her being a jerk and all. It’s like she doesn’t care about anything, and she’s kind of rude about it too. That’s what I’m thinking when I spot Avalon in the lobby. I make a U-turn to the water fountain.

How can I be happier, like Dee Kay? They say that everyone has their problems, but other than all the injuries she’s sustained, it’s like she has none. Maybe it’s because she lives in the moment. Carpe diem. And she doesn’t let anything get in the way.

I’ve let my parents’ divorce get in the way. I have trouble concentrating in school and I’m worrying that I might ruin my friendships. I can’t even think of what to paint. The canvas on my easel at home is still empty. And so am I.