The Divine Economy of Salvation by Priscila Uppal Read Free Book Online Page B

small crack in its wooden seat. The desks were lined up so that two sets, on opposite sides of the classroom, faced each other, while the desks in the centre faced forward to the blackboard. The white tiled floor was slippery, recently washed, and dirt from our shoes instantly clung to it. The radiator gurgled on behind us and Sister Marguerite lectured loudly, tapping her pointer against the desks at the front for emphasis. Initially I was disappointed to be far from Rachel, but when the lecture began I realized I would be able to view her every movement, admire Rachel from afar.
    It was Francine’s association with Rachel and Caroline that I could not quite comprehend immediately. She was a mousy girl compared to them, a little more like me in that respect. Her reddish-blonde hair had unruly ends that curled in opposite directions, and the freckles on her face were unsymmetrical and blotchy. She squirmed in her skin whenever she moved, and she spoke demurely when forced to. Only later would I discover that Francine and Rachel had gone to elementary school together and theirparents had lived on the same street before Francine’s father got a job that required him to travel, his wife accompanying him on the business trips. Out of the four of us, Francine was the one who wasn’t always forced to stay over for the weekend. She chose to and her parents didn’t complain, were perhaps thrilled that their unspectacular daughter had friendships, and didn’t want to interfere. Rachel genuinely liked Francine, and protected her as she would later protect me, but you could sense if they hadn’t shared a past and had met for the first time at St. X. School for Girls, they wouldn’t have been friends. It was from Francine’s mouth that I heard about The Sisterhood. After a grammar lesson on active verbs and a short quiz on the Confederation of Canada from which I was compassionately exempt (it being my second day), we were excused for lunch. The bell clanged loudly in my ears, the noise escalating instantaneously as shoes shuffled and voices called to each other, desk chairs screeched across the tiled floors, and doors opened and closed down the hallway. Francine rushed by me, knocking my arm as I swivelled out of my seat, while I worried about who I might sit with at lunch or if I’d be alone. She quietly apologized and continued scrambling to the other side of the room, where Rachel and Caroline were gathering their pencils and books.
    I waited outside the class like a shadow without an object as girls from other grades breezed by me. I caught the girls discussing their club as they exited.
    â€œWe’ll have The Sisterhood meeting on Saturday,” Rachel said.
    â€œAfter the movie?” Francine asked, eager to keep pace with Rachel and Caroline, who walked side by side down the right sideof the hallway as girls walking the other way came by on the left. I shoved my loose-leaf papers into my binder without ordering them and followed behind. The hallway was narrow. A new row of orange lockers had recently been installed, and their shiny rectangular boxes jutted out, forcing girls to brush arms and offering a stark contrast to the dullness of the white tiled floors. The cramped hallway worked to my advantage, because there was no room for someone to steal my place in the line.
    â€œShould we invite Yvonne?” piped Caroline, her long braid swinging along her waist.
    â€œNah,” said Rachel. “We don’t need her any more.”
    Francine laughed uncomfortably. I judged at the time that she had not been part of their group long enough to make any decisions or offer her own opinions. But that was just the way Francine was, content to follow. I learned quickly that most girls were cruel unless you could force them to respect you. They didn’t want to suspect you needed them. They needed to feel like they needed you. And I didn’t have anything to offer. As they turned the